#I’m hoping putting the major ones will help spread it. oof.

[bolt-x0]

This may not go anywhere but I’m curious, please reblog to spread and maybe add what mcyt fandom you’re in!

I would add more but I can’t so, sorry 😞

Again this is *predominantly* what you listen to

An example of the last one would be cavetown, last I saw he was signed to either sire records or triple crown.

[gossamer-green]

any characters (beyond the Obvious, o7 Ashe love you) that you want to see return for pd s3? or any ideas of HOW you want them to return or scenes/events you want to see happen w them?

ohohoho well

i do have another obvious character i wanna see again, and that's tide. i'm really sad we didn't get to see any of the past 10 months, including william and vyncent finding out that tide had been depowered. i want to learn more about that, but from his end, and i want to know what's been up with him since. bizly better have made that one tweet just to be mean...

and on a related note, i wanna see the prime force again. or any of the other heroes who showed up at the end of s1 who william and vynce told to fuck off. it got brought up in one of the rolleds that if the issue with the chaos demons spreads enough, it might draw the attention of the prime force/other major heroes the boys know. i’d love love love for the PDs to have to team up with them again and to see some tensions between the heroes, a hostile william and vyncent, and dakota—the only one of the three who accepts the reasoning that the heroes were all always too busy to help them before. (i am lightheartedly shaking my fist at grizzly for the ending of the zeroes to heroes oneshot bc oof he wasn’t kidding in the rolled for ep24 he doesn’t get itttttt)

i wanna see summer again too! william kept going to school after s1, but what happened to her? the PDs tried to warn her how dangerous getting involved with their superhero business was, but she still viewed it as mostly something to spice up her otherwise boring normal life, and so she poked her nose in anyway. and then she got kidnapped. i want to see her again so we get even just a glimpse of how she’s holding up and if she’s been deterred from inserting herself into superpowered situations now or not. or maybe her memory got wiped, so she doesn’t even remember anything that would endanger her? (idr, was there a time range limit on the use of the memory devices, or no?) i think it’d be cool if she was put into some sort of witness protection program and the boys ran into her living under a new identity. (i don’t expect that to be canon or anything, just throwing it out there as a cool hypothetical bc we literally have no clue what happened with her!!)

and!! i wanna see mark again!!! really really bad. i know all of the guys hate mark, but i like him and i wanna see him again in s3, although idk what the context will be. i was really confused when he winked at the boys in the supermax?? because with the way the woman who was walking them around the prison spoke about him—that he hasn't spoken much and it might not be a good idea to let him have visitors—it made me think "aw man, he's in a horrible place. makes sense." i'm positive that mark is gonna come back, since bizly hinted at it when someone (i think charlie) brought up that they don't know what happened to him since the prison break, and surely he's not dead. i was hoping that we might have a confrontation with him later on where he blames the boys for ashe being gone, but that doesn’t add up with the wink. hey, beebo?? what was with the wink???

then there’s. mal. he’s definitely gonna show up again, and i’m excited for it, but in the “i’m excited to be pissed off” kinda way. i want to see mal looking even rougher than he did in his appearance in s2 so i can shout “L!!” and make the L gesture at the screen, because yes it’ll technically mean bad things because the trickster will be gaining power but also get FUCKED, mallard conway. smarmy bastard. also also, if he touches william again, i am going to Scream. i need that man to evaporate.

[jaskiersvalley]

Your writing is DEVASTATINGLY lovely, thank you for sharing it with us!

Catch me tearing up at this, Nonnie. You are far too lovely and kind. Have a little thank you ficlet which I hope you enjoy <3

If you haven’t played Witcher 3 or read the books, this will contain major spoilers about Ciri!

To say that Geralt wasn’t friendly could be taken as a bit of an understatement. Somehow Jaskier had either missed that memo or he straight up didn’t care, sticking around until he became part of Geralt’s everyday landscape. Then Ciri came along and Geralt stopped fighting destiny. They were in Kaedwen when another figure turned up at their camp, looking dishevelled and exhausted. Cahir had been running north, away from Nilfgaard and hoping to help protect Ciri. Not that Geralt was having any of it, he gruffly tried to warn off the interloper on their camp.

“It’s you!” Ciri exclaimed. “I see you in my dreams.”

Politely baffled, Cahir offered her a hesitant smile. “I only know you’re Emhyr's daughter and I firmly believe that under no circumstance should you fall into his hands."

Being everyone's friend, Jaskier struck up conversation with Cahir. However, Geralt couldn't help but feel like they were being fooled, given a sob story of someone who grew to resent the empire they led an army for. It was just too perfect, like something Jaskier would make up to sing a heart-warming song about to bring everyone together on a dreary night. Still, Geralt wasn't in the habit of being aggressive with humans if he could help it. But he could still make things unbearably awkward so they didn't stick around. That had always been the case (with Jaskier being the exception) so Geralt kept to his tried and tested method.

Nights were spent on the cold forest floor. While Geralt would meditate and keep guard, Jaskier curled up with Ciri under all the blankets they had in an attempt to keep warm. It was too risky to have a fire. Only, Cahir wasn't allowed to curl up with them, even as he passed over one of his own furs when he saw Ciri shivering. That night, Geralt watched as the rather strange human huddled against a tree, tucked under as many of his paltry belonging as possible to stay warm. Even more strangely, he slept as if he trusted Geralt to keep him safe for the night.

"How long will you travel with us?" Ciri asked innocently a few mornings later. She didn't seem to notice the way Cahir was flexing his hands to try and get some heat back into his fingers. Not that Geralt cared, he had seen the hand flop out from under a cloak as Cahir had turned in the night. It served him right, the fool that he was for thinking he could just travel with a Witcher and his family of choice and Destiny.

"I don't know," Cahir replied, the honesty raw in his voice.

Ciri didn't waste time, smiling at him as she declared, "You should come with us! Geralt said Kaer Morhen is big, so there will be room for you too."

Such simple, childish logic. Geralt wished Ciri hadn't opened her mouth though. Judging my the hesitant look Cahir was casting him, it was quite evident the invitation wasn't taken to heart. Until Jaskier joined in too.

"Yes, come with us! It will be nice to have another boring old human among the beefcakes of Kaer Morhen." He must have seen Cahir looking at Geralt because Jaskier scoffed out a laugh. "ignore his sour demeanour. He's just a grouch until he gets home."

The trek to Kaer Morhen was slow and several times Geralt wondered whether he could guide then in a way that meant he could keep Ciri on Roach, a hand on Jaskier and if, by some mishap, Cahir slipped, they could all say it was an accident. However, Geralt had a moral code that was better than that, as much as he cursed himself for it. But they made it to Kaer Morhen as a quartet. Introductions were made swiftly and Geralt showed everyone to rooms. Jaskier would share with him, Ciri would be near by. However, he led Cahir to a further part of the old keep and opened the door to room that was still functional but it was definitely not, by any definition, nice. To Geralt, the further Cahir was from him and his family, the better.

"This is your room."

He didn't expect the large eyed awe and gratitude.

"You sure? I thought you'd put me in a communal room."

There were no communal rooms but Geralt didn't want to say that. Instead, he shrugged. "This room is yours now."

It wasn't like it had much, a lumpy, straw filled mattress, a rickety chest of drawers and a fireplace. Not much more would fit in there really. Yet Cahir seemed almost overwhelmed by it.

Everything Geralt tried to do to make Cahir less eager to stick around seemed to backfire. The pass was still open and Geralt hoped Cahir would try to go back to his masters and perish along the way. One less threat to Ciri that way. However, Cahir eagerly took to kitchen duties, saying he wanted to earn his keep. He also willingly joined in with training, even sharing some of Nilfgaard's fighting styles and dirty tricks with the others.

All of Geralt's pushing had an interesting side effect. While Cahir tried to give him space while living up to expectations, he got closer to the other Witchers. Especially, Lambert and Eskel. However, like with most things not in his immediate interest, Geralt decided to stick his head in the sand about it. It didn't concern him so it wasn't his problem.

He was making his last rounds of the keep, something he didn't feel the need to do quite so often anymore. However, a soft, very human snuffle from the stall next to Roach had him suspicious. Silently peering into the stall, Geralt's eyebrows rose to see Cahir under his cloak, curled into some straw.

"Something wrong with your room?"

The words startled Cahir and he jerked, staring wide eyed at Geralt. There was straw stuck in his hair.

"Sorry. No. The room you gave me is very nice and really generous of you." That should have been an absolute lie but Cahir didn't seem to be anything but honest. So Geralt stayed quiet and allowed him to fill the awkwardly lengthening silence. "It was so quiet, I'm not used to it. The army is noisy, even when it sleeps. And I missed the stars. It's been years since I've spent more than a couple of nights indoors at a time."

Life on the road was something Geralt could understand. But it sounded like maybe Cahir had been without creature comforts for a lot longer than a Witcher. At least Geralt had a home to return to. With Nilfgaard's aggressive spread, he could easily imagine Cahir being at the forefront of that. That realisation didn't sit well with Geralt, it gnawed away at him for some reason. So he did the only thing he was capable of, he grunted and left.

However, the next day he mentioned the encounter to Eskel, hoping that he or Lambert would have a better solution. They did, but not the way Geralt had hoped. He was the one to much out the stables that week. Mostly confident that the others had sorted his little problem, Geralt didn't think much of the noise he was making. At least, not until he walked past what should have been an empty stall. Twin sets of amber eyes glared at him from within. More straw had been piled into the stall, a few more throws and furs brought in too and Cahir was nestled between two Witchers, sleeping more soundly than Geralt had seen him before.

That should have been the worst of it but, that night, Geralt found his partner missing from their shared bed. Assuming Jaskier was singing to Ciri, he crept closer, puzzled by the silence. Her room was empty too. There weren't many places they could have gone, so Geralt headed down to the kitchen, determinedly not panicking. A Witcher didn't panic, especially not in his own home. He only encountered Vesemir who looked over him once.

"Ah, you're here. Take this to the others." Geralt was handed a tray of six steaming mugs. Vesemir was holding a seventh. At the hesitation in Geralt's posture, he rolled his eyes. "Take that to the stables."

Something akin to dread curled in Geralt's chest as he approached the stables. He hadn't been good to Cahir, so he wasn't likely to be welcomed into the group. So he'd just put the tray down and make a hasty retreat.

"Drinks!" Jaskier declared with a cheer and the others in the stall all seemed to brighten too. It looked quite cosy in an odd way. Ciri was between Jaskier and Eskel but she wormed her way out to grab a drink, eyes closed as the steam wafted over her face.

"You have the best ideas, thanks," she declared.

One by one, Geralt handed out the drinks until one more was left on the tray. Everyone stared at him until Cahir took pity.

"We have room for one more if you'd like to join."

Hesitant, Geralt settled down and let out an "oof" as Jaskier snuggled in on one side and Ciri vigorously claimed his other. It was nice, a little odd but not as alienating as Geralt had feared. Though Cahir's words had been a little bit of a lie, as Geralt found out the following year. There wasn't room for just one more. Because, against all odds, they managed to somehow squeeze in a Cat Witcher that Lambert had dragged home too.

[sarahjtv]

BNHA Chapter 300 Spoiler Thoughts: Crumbling Hero Society and Keeping Up with The Todoroki (Again)

OK, I got a good majority of my thoughts together for this chapter, so it’s time to start writing about it again:

Starting off, I haven’t seen anything about a special cover page for the big 300 yet and I doubt we’re getting a color page this time around.  Most likely we’ll see it when it officially drops.  I do hope it’s something light-hearted to lift our spirits up, but given where we’re at in the plot, it might be filled with some heavy symbolism which I’m also down for.

Edit: The full leaks are out and I saw nothing special about a cover/color page.  It’s just the usual chapter structure with the only exception being the title’s at the end like Katsuki Bakugo: Rising was.  I’m hoping for a sketch on Horikoshi’s Twitter at least since 300 chapters is worth celebrating, but there’s nothing super special with the chapter itself 😢

Villains are out and about after the Prison Breaks...  Of course they’re causing chaos wherever they go.  The citizens are actually fighting back using their own support items probably from Denarat since I believe the usual support items we’ve seen, like on heroes, have to be official via signed papers and such; they can’t just be bought off the market.

But, because of their lack of training, the citizens are causing more collateral damage than usual.  They’d rather depend on themselves than Pro Heroes anymore.  In a way, I get it (the authorities can’t always be relied on, unfortunately), but if you don’t have the proper training to deal with a situation, it can cause more harm than good.

I’m glad Wash is showing his worth as a hero!  He’s still protecting the citizens and helping them capture the villains.  It just sucks that he and a lot of other legit heroes are getting scolded for doing their job now.  This follows up with that one panel of the crowd of civilians from the last chapter where you saw some people happy to see Best Jeanist and others just angry or disappointed.  Hero society is crumbling at the seams and those cracks are only getting bigger.

Of course the number of Pro Heroes have decreased.  We all saw this coming.  What I didn’t see coming was the #9 Hero: Yoroimusha (the old samurai Hero) announcing his retirement.  Not because of his age, but because he only wanted to be appreciated.  It’s ok to want to be appreciated, but to use that as your drive to be a Pro Hero is less than heroic.  And we know that he’s not the only Pro Hero who chose to be a hero for these reasons (Stain was created to drive this very point home).  

I’ll get back to Stain in the next bullet point, but there’s one panel that shows that All Might statue at Kamino completely vandalized with a board sign around it saying “I AM NOT HERE”.  That... oof...  Look, All Might has his flaws as everyone else does, but the man has done so damn much for the people that he does not deserve this.  It’s not his fault he had to retire, he did everything he could during his run.  It would be a tough battle even if he was involved in the war.  There’s a reason why All Might was so well-loved even after he retired, so to see him being slandered like this just hurts... 

And Stain is back.  He escaped Tartarus like everyone else.  I’m curious to see where Horikoshi will take this guy.  My guess is that he’ll probably go back to killing non-heroic “heroes”, but maybe he’ll do something else after being stuck in prison for several months.  His vision of Hero Society is even more spread out than before at least.  

And now the Torodokis.  Hoo boy.  Endeavor’s awake and alive.  I’m personally glad because more character growth from him (I know some think otherwise and I respect that).  Some people still support him, but most everyone else has turned their back on him.  Endeavor reflects on Toya when he was a child pulling out his white hair to get his attention.  In the end, Endeavor focused on Shoto more.  I like that Horikoshi doesn’t let us forget that Endeavor was a piece of shit who abused his family.  Endeavor can atone and try for redemption all he wants, but that history of abuse will never go away.  It will always come back to bite him.  You reap what you sow, Endeavor.    

And, although Enji is alive, Endeavor has “died”.  He can’t fight Toya.  I’m guessing that means Endeavor is out as a Hero.  This was probably going to happen regardless.  Endeavor had too much against him to let him continue.  Now all Enji can do is try to fix what he can, though I doubt it will be much.  

Real quick, but there’s a funny page where Shoto walks in to see Enji crying (with a funny bloated face; Horikoshi why 😭), opens the door, and then immediately slams it shut!  Enji yells out the classic “SHOTOOOOO!!!!!” 🤣  Idk if it’s pettiness or awkwardness on Shoto’s part, but it’s good to see some humor still being put into this depressing Hospital Arc.  

Now, all the Todoroki are here together.  Fuyumi feels sympathy for her father (bless her ❤️), but everyone else is straight up done.  Natsuo is frustrated, Shoto’s probably conflicted given that he hardly looks his father in the eyes, and Rei is also done with Enji’s shit.  She’s basically telling him that a lot of people have it worse than him (probably because a lot of people died, of course), and that Enji needs to get his shit together right now.

Also, REI TODOROKI IS HERE!!! 💙 OUR QUEEN 👑  With the flower Enji gave her while in the mental ward no less (gotta love that symbolism).  Everyone, including myself, thought that seeing Dabi would through Rei off and send her back to a declining mental state.  I’m glad that it pretty much had the reverse effect.  It actually made her stronger than ever!  She’s finally ready to confront Enji and talk about her family, specifically about Toya.  My only disappointment is that we didn’t get to see Shoto’s reaction to seeing his mom out of the mental hospital for the first time in over a decade.  I want to see it, Horikoshi!  Give me some bittersweet feels 😭💙  

And that’s it for this chapter!  Heavy stuff in this episode’s “Keeping Up with The Todoroki” (love how that’s become a running gag in the fandom now).  I’m really happy to see Rei’s back, but Dabi’s damage on Hero Society definitely left it’s mark.  No Deku, Bakugo, Tamaki, or Kamanari this chapter so we don’t know what’s going on with them.  I doubt we’re going to see them next chapter either if Horkioshi chooses to stick with the Todoroki drama again for a while, which I’m cool with.  I would like to see Bakugo try talking to Deku though.  I need some more good 🥦💥 in my life.

[ev-pierce-writes]

The Promise

The Heir Chapter 3

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12K

Warnings: I can't even remember.

Note: Oof its been a while sorry

___

The council meeting was where everything started to go wrong. The members of the Neutral Systems were always dismissive and condescending toward you, but the presence of the Mandalorian made it worse.

"These people are not easy to convince, Din," you warned him before stepping into the meeting. "I don't know what your plan for Mandalore is but you are either about to make great allies or terrible enemies."

"I'll follow your lead," he said.

"You brought him here?" General Tarrow questioned incredulously the moment you appeared.

"Is there a problem with that?" you countered. Din sat silently beside you, helmet on, surveying the situation.

"You were always one to flirt with danger, Your Majesty. But I never expected you to court the enemy," Prince Cornith, representative of the Angor system, said. You hated his smug smile and arrogant posture. And his implication stoked an anger in your chest.

"And yet I'm not surprised at your apparent prejudice towards someone you've never met. The Mandalorian is not an enemy. He's an ally in need of assistance to fight for his people."

"How are you expecting this to play out? A little catfight amongst warrior clans who know nothing but to fight?" the General asked. A wave of laughter spread through the representatives. You did not join in.

"My people have seen Bo-Katan on Mandalore. She's gathering the people around her. Readying for battle. She needs to be stopped before this escalates and it spills over into other systems."

"So what you're saying is to prepare for war?" General Tarrow's questioned, jumping to a fairly major conclusion.

"I'm saying we need to be prepared for the possibility of one good Mandalorian having to face a hundred bad ones."

"Why should we even get involved in this? This guy can't be trusted," Cornith said, pointing an accusing finger at Din. "Take off the ridiculous helmet and then we'll see for real. Maybe he's a deformed monster under it all."

You bristled against the blatant insult but managed to remain collected. The Prince enjoyed getting a rise out of you and you knew no one would stand up for you if you fired back.

"If the wrong person ends up on the throne, and Mandalore returns to its militaristic ways, they will encroach on your territory. They used to control entire systems. Bo-Katan can and will take yours."

"We are prepared to deal with that if it happens."

"When it happens, General, it will be too late. None of us are a match for a well-organized Mandalorian army. We need to get ahead of this."

"Who's to say he's even the one we should be backing? We are the Neutral Systems for a reason. We don't take sides."

"Djarin is a good man. I trust him. Societies don't rebuild themselves overnight. We need to lay the right bricks now to build a foundation that won't just fall apart and take the whole structure with it. Djarin is the one to do that."

"I hate to argue with you, Your Majesty--" This was a lie. The Prince loved to argue. "--but I'm afraid your judgment is clouded by your shared history with Mandalore."

"And I'm afraid your judgment is clouded by your selfishness, Prince Cornith."

He stood. "I act only with my people's best interests at heart."

"As do I." You stood as well and stared the Prince down. General Tarrow watched the interaction from his seat, just as distrustful as Cornith but less vocal.

"What happens if Bo-Katan does take control and finds out we've been going behind her back to form an alliance?" Cornith said. "The rest of us are done for. Nhora might have the firepower to protect herself, but we don't."

In a way he was right. If this failed, everyone, including Nhora, would take the heat. Din had remained silent the entire time, unsure if he was even allowed to speak. But finally, he did. "You're right. I can't ask you to put your people on the line. All I can ask is that when the time comes you will support my people and their wishes. I just-- I want to protect my family. You can understand that right?"

Cornith eyed Din with distrust and then shook his head. "I'm out. Whatever deal you're going to try to make, I won't get involved."

"Can you at least promise not to align yourself with Bo-Katan?" you pleaded.

He sighed, almost apologetically. "I'm sorry, but I can't take that risk. I'll do what I think is best to protect my people. I'm out."

Cornith's hologram flickered and then disappeared. Two others followed, leaving only you and General Tarrow. And though he still hesitated, Din's words had appeared to make a dent in the tough General's shell. If he wasn't going to listen to you at least he would listen to Din. He sat up and leaned forward, completely ignoring you when he spoke and looking only at the Mandalorian.

"How many soldiers are we talking? How many will it take for this little operation of yours."

"Six," Din said.

"Six?" both you and the General exclaimed at the same time.

"At most."

"And here I thought we were arguing over hundreds. Six we can manage." That was far fewer than either of you were expecting. Din hadn't explained to you what his plan was yet. And if he was being honest, he wasn't quite sure himself. But this was a start.

"You do realize what you are up against, Mando," you questioned. "She'll be expecting you to make a move."

"I once took out an Imp base with fewer than that. Bo-Katan doesn't want a war. She needs to defeat me in battle, fairly, to regain the saber. I just need to get in."

"And then what? Kill or be killed?" The thought made your heart constrict.

"I hope not. But probably."

The room fell quiet at the gravity of his words.

"I'm going with you," Zena said abruptly. She had remained silent throughout the meeting but now spoke with determination.

"Absolutely not," Din said. "No offense but I need trained warriors for this."

You could tell by the look on Zena's face that she'd already made up her mind. "It wasn't a question, Mando," she said. "I'm the best warrior on this planet and I'm going with you."

Din was silent. "Okay," he consented, though sounding a bit taken aback. "That's one. I'll need that Jedi too, Skywalker."

"Good luck finding him," the General said. "I'll discuss this with my Lieutenants. We'll see about filling out your team. But I'm not making any promises, Mando. And you're going to have to deal with the consequences of the Angor system potentially aligning with Bo-Katan. Prince Cornith will follow whoever offers him the best price."

And then the General was gone as well. You sighed, finally able to let down the hardened exterior you had put up for the council meeting. "That did not go as well as I'd hoped."

"I hate that Angor guy," Zena said with a huff.

"Me too. Eyed you like a slab of meat," Din said quietly. It was the harshest language you'd ever heard out of his mouth, almost protective of you. But he moved on quickly. "I was expecting the worst. At least we might have the General. I have a...friend on the inside as well. But I'll need help getting in contact with her."

"I'll take care of that," you said, sinking deeper in your chair, now only thinking that Din's plan might be a suicide mission. Din followed your movements, noticing the stress that radiated from you in waves. You'd taken quite the verbal berating from the council. He wanted to reach out and ease your worry the way he had last night but was too conscious of Zena's watchful eye. So he settled on speaking.

"You can back out," he said. His words caught you off guard. "I can go forward without you. You don't need to put your people on the line like this."

"Too late for that, Mando," Zena said, answering for you. "Once she makes up her mind there's no going back."

---

Zena was right. Your mind was made up. You were suspiciously silent through the rest of the morning's meetings and disappeared directly afterward to your chambers, reappearing again only for lunch. You were planning, turning things over in your mind, wondering how best to move forward. The next logical step seemed to wait on the reappearance of the Jedi and his ward.

Din noticed it all, the concentrated look on your face, your abnormal silence. He wanted to draw you out of your shell, tell you it would be alright, but he didn't know how. So he focused on Zena.

"I didn't know you could fight," he said to her. Zena had offered to give him a tour of the grounds of the palace, and you trailed along behind, eager for a distraction from the stressful morning. The three of you had come upon the sparring grounds, piquing Din's curiosity.

"I come from the longest line of warriors on Nhora," she said. "My mother, her mother, her mother... Not that they passed on anything cool like beskar armor. Is it all beskar?"

"Yes. Though mine wasn't passed on either. I got it through more... dubious means."

"And that? Also beskar?" Zena motioned to the staff on Din's back, topped with a sharp spearhead.

Din unclipped the staff from his back and handed it to her with surprising trust. She took it gingerly, feeling out the balance in her hands. "It's very light. Do you fight with this?"

"Is that a challenge, Zena?"

"Hah, I could take you, Mando. You want to go a round?"

Din didn't need to be asked twice. He was eager to see how your royal advisor fared one on one.

You stood above them on the observation ledge of the sparring grounds, watching as they faced each other below, knowing this would be a good fight.

Zena tapped the staff against the ground. "Where's your weapon, Mando?"

"No weapon. Wouldn't want to give you an unfair disadvantage." Though Zena took those words as a challenge they were not said arrogantly. Din's cool confidence was built on experience and success.

But Din was not prepared for what he would get hit with next. Specifically what Zena hit him with next. Zena struck out with the first blow, slamming the staff in a dangerously accurate hit to the side of his head. The beskar sent vibrations through his helmet and he stumbled back in surprise. Taking advantage of his disorientation Zena dealt a second blow with her foot to his side, and Din gasped, bending over in pain. He'd forgotten about rule one, never underestimate your opponent. And rule number two, no distractions. Having you as an audience was a damn good one.

Zena lunged again, though this time Din was ready, taking hold with his gloved hands of the staff and hauling her forward. But Zena anticipated the attack and counterbalanced, shifting her weight down and using the staff as a lever to launch him onto his back.

Din landed with a groan on the ground. Watching a Mandalorian get his ass kicked by your advisor was a very sufficient diversion.

"Unfair disadvantage, Mando? You seem to be the one at a disadvantage," Zena taunted as Din hauled himself to his feet. "Perhaps you're distracted by a pretty woman on your mind."

"We both know you're trying to impress her too."

Your heart began to flutter. He was trying to impress you.

"Ah yes, but the difference is I've already impressed her. You are behind."

That comment finally got to him. Din struck next, easily knocking the staff from Zena's hands and pinning her arms behind her back to immobilize her upper body. The staff went clattering to the ground. But it wasn't the end for your advisor. She kicked out her legs and took both her and Din to the floor, reaching out and taking hold of the staff to swing at his head. Din rolled out of the way, but not without having to relinquish his hold on Zena. She lept to her feet gracefully and lashed out her leg, planting a solid and swift kick to one of Din's pauldrons, sending him back to the floor.

"You should really work on your hand-to-hand combat, Din Djarin. I expected better from a lifelong warrior."

"I'm good enough to get by," Din said with a huff, finally making his way to his feet again.

"Good enough isn't good enough, Mando. You need to be better. The best."

"Fine, if you want a fair fight, you'll get one." Din pulled something from his belt. It was hard to tell what it was, just an oblong object in his hand. But then he pressed a button and the full length of it emerged, glowing and humming with electricity. The Darksaber.

"So when I defeat you, does that mean I'm the new Mand'alor?"

Zena was taking the appearance of the most powerful handheld weapon in the galaxy in stride.

"If you win, yes. But you're not going to."

The saber met the staff with a crash, sending reverberations across the sparring grounds. You felt a jolt of electricity spread over your skin, vibrating your body down to the core. Din suddenly took on a new appearance, powerful, intense, confident. The shift was small but compelling and you thought perhaps the vibrations spreading through your body were not just from the force of the saber.

Din attacked again, forcing Zena backward in a fight that had taken on a new energy. Zena was skilled and agile. She anticipated Din's every move and blocked his strikes. But she was no match to the Darksaber in Din's hands and found herself forced to step back with each blow until she was up against the wall. The staff narrowly prevented the loss of her head.

"How about now, ready to tap out?"

Zena held up a fist in response, letting him know she knew she was done for.

"I take that back. You are good."

In an instant, the Darksaber was gone again, just a hilt in his hands. "No, the Darksaber is good. You were right. I could use some practice. And I wouldn't mind getting it from the best around."

Zena laughed.

"I train at dawn. See you there, metalhead." With an affectionate rap of her knuckles on his helmet, she handed Din back the staff. "I've got work to do. Perhaps Her Majesty could finish the tour."

She bowed toward you with a dubious smile and exited the sparring grounds, leaving you alone with Din. You walked down the stairs and met him in the center of the ring, the power of the Darksaber leaving your skin vibrating slightly with its intensity.

"So, did it work?" Din asked, his tone level and unreadable.

"Did what work?"

"Did I impress you."

You couldn't suppress the shy smile that danced across your lips. "The Darksaber certainly did."

It wasn't the answer Din had hoped for, but he'd broken your silence, which was enough for him. Without Zena around to watch you, he felt a bit more emboldened to pursue your fleeting smile.

"Give me your hand," he said, voice still serious.

"Why?"

"Just--" He didn't wait. Din grabbed your left hand and placed the Darksaber in it, wrapping your fingers around it with his own. "Point it away from your face. And anything else you value. Then press right here when you're ready."

The Darksaber was in your hand. You stood frozen in shock, unsure of what to make of this gesture. Din was putting his most valuable, and most controversial, possession under your control.

"Go on. I know you want to."

"Are you sure I'm allowed to?"

Din shrugged. "I don't really care. I didn't ask for the thing."

You took a deep breath and then held your arm out from your side, worried you would accidentally slice your own leg off. But Din was right. You wanted to. Another breath and then--

Vroom. The shaft of the saber extended from its hilt with a jolt and you took an involuntary step back. The glow was even brighter up close, and if you listened carefully you could hear the crackle of electricity. You weren't sure why you'd expected it to be heavy, it seemed such a heavy object, carrying the weight of a people and a planet within it. But it wasn't.

Din stepped behind you, you thought to get out of the way of your swing, but then he placed a hand on your hip, showing you how to plant your feet and stabilize you. The left reached out and wrapped around yours.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice soft and guiding in your ear. Oh Maker, he was so close that you could feel his beskar armor against your back. The hand on your hip was gentle but strong, grounding you not to the floor but to him. You couldn't speak so you nodded in reply.

Din brought your hand up to your opposite shoulder and then guided it into a swift slash across your body, leaving a flash of white light in its wake that seared your eyes. The air sparkled, electrified. A gasp escaped your mouth at the sheer amount of power you held. But only one thought entered your mind.

"Can I cut something in half?"

Din laughed, in awe that this was your only request. "Sure, as long as it isn't me. Remember to balance yourself in your hips. Keep your feet planted. And maybe use two hands this time."

He released you and you stepped across the grounds toward one of the sparring dummies. Din watched, and though you walked gingerly, a bit wary of the saber, you held your head high. You were more powerful than you thought.

"Sorry, bud. This is for a good cause," you addressed the motionless dummy. Plant your feet, balance in the hips, and two hands on the hilt. Check, check, check. Draw back and slash. The Darksaber sliced straight through the sack of hay and sand, spilling its guts across the floor.

You squealed in delight. "Oh Maker, I think I could get used to this."

The beaming smile on your face lit the world on fire. Din found himself staring not at the mess you'd just made but at your expression of pure joy, glowing white from the light of the Darksaber. He wanted to make you feel like that all the time, he realized.

---

"What are the people like on Mandalore?" you asked, guiding Din around the palace library. It was quiet today, especially between the stacks, as everyone seemed to be enjoying the good weather outside.

Din sighed, unsure how to answer the question. "They need help. But they're stubborn and won't ask."

"Sounds familiar," you said and Din laughed in response. You wished you could see his face at times like these when the conversation flowed easily and he let you tease him.

"You know, some people on Mandalore don't even believe you're real."

"They don't?"

"They think you're a figurehead. A distraction from the real people in charge. That you only show up to make appearances at official functions."

It wasn't that surprising for you to hear. You rarely left the palace and never left the planet. But there was another reason you suspected their disbelief.

"I think I know why," you said.

Din's silence urged you to continue.

"Meet me outside the palace. At four. I'll show you."

When Din stood at the grand doors of the entrance to the palace, he thought for a moment you had forgotten about him up. He was looking for the regal version of you, the version where you wore your extravagant robes and were surrounded by guards. That is not the version that appeared.

Instead, you were dressed modestly, having abandoned your synthsilk robes for brown linen pants. A dark green cape was wrapped around your shoulders, the hood hiding your face, but the heat signature on Din's visor was clearly yours. The transformation was astounding.

Din bowed as you approached. "Your Majesty," he addressed you.

"Stop that, you'll give me away. You should use my real name."

Your real name? He hadn't yet been offered the privilege of that knowledge, and it embarrassed him to discover what an intense reaction the thought of it elicited from him. His heart rate picked up erratically and he thanked the Maker for his helmet to hide the blush on his cheeks.

You leaned in, beckoning with a finger for him to come closer, and whispered to him in a soft voice. Your name. Your real name. It was a beautiful secret, a name all for himself to possess and wrap around his tongue. It suited you, Din thought.

He repeated it back to you, testing out its weight. You liked the way the syllables rolled around his mouth, even through the modulation of his helmet.

"Come on, we'll start at the market first. I have forty hard-earned credits to spend."

Din trailed behind you through the late afternoon crowds, weaving this way and that over bridges and around stalls. There was no way Din would have been able to find his way around, but you knew the place like the back of your hand, following the paved stone paths, recognizing your favorite shopkeepers, and pointing out the best spots.

Once fully immersed in the throng and away from any guards who may have recognized you, you let your hood fall from your head, tilting your face toward the sun and smiling contentedly. Though your face was no different than it always was, you had changed somehow. No one recognized you or even gave you a second glance, other than perhaps to admire the beauty of the sunlight reflecting from your untamed hair. At least, that's what Din was staring at.

And finally he understood, that beneath it all you weren't just a queen, you were any other person who could blend in with the crowd. He was jealous. He wanted to disappear like that.

"Keep up, Mando," you said, and reached out behind you to grab his hand. You did it to prevent him from getting swept up and lost to the swarms of people, but his heart fluttered at the intimacy and ease of the interaction as you pulled him closer.

"Why are there so many people?" he mumbled into your ear as you paused at one of the stalls to take a look.

"Tomorrow's the fertility festival. After the last day of planting the year's crops, everyone celebrates and prays for good yields. The city will be even more packed tomorrow, so the market prepares for the influx of people." You moved on, dragging Din along behind you. "But today is really the day to come. Fewer people and a better selection."

Selection of what? Din almost asked until you pulled him to a stop. Somehow, you were back at that stall Din had noticed during his first trip here, the one with the delicious smelling food that he'd been in too much of a hurry, and too poor, to buy. Din lingered behind you, eyeing the small pastries and steaming bowls of...something. He wasn't exactly sure what. But it still smelled just as amazing as he remembered, even through the filtered sterile air of his helmet.

"I'll take three of those," you said, pointing at the largest pastries on the top row of the display. The woman running the stall silently slid them into a paper bag, completely oblivious to your identity. You loved the liberating feeling of not having anyone call you by your title or even recognize who you truly were.

"And for the Mandalorian?" the woman asked, glancing slightly nervously at Din's hulking shape hovering just behind you.

You turned toward him. "Are you super hungry or just really hungry?" you asked with a grin.

"Oh, no thank you. I can't afford that."

You pulled a stack of credits from your pocket and handed them over, completely ignoring his comment. "We'll take two more fruit pastries and two of the vegetable ones, thank you."

And then you were off again before he could protest, guiding him further away from the palace and into the market. From the top of a bridge, you flagged down one of the canal taxis, stepping down the bank as it slowed to a stop.

"Now where are we going?"

You didn't respond, just pointed at the flat-bottomed boat, indicating for Din to get in. He did as he was told, jumping in easily, and you moved to follow, sitting on the edge of the stone wall to reduce how far you'd have to jump. But Din stopped you with his hands on your hips, lifting you easily with his arms into the boat so that you wouldn't have to jump.

"Where to?" the helmsman said.

You pointed along the canal in the direction opposite of the city. "Just follow on up that way."

"Lady, you're going to hit marsh. I can't go that far without my boat bottoming out."

"Just go until you can't anymore."

The taxi maneuvered up the canal, at first following the stone walls that lined the waters edge. Soon, however, they turned to grass as you left the boundary of the city, the market fading slowly behind you. The man was right. The canal quickly became more of a creek, marsh grasses and reeds growing up around you.

"This is as far as I can take you. Not sure why you'd want to be here, but I'm not coming back so good luck."

How kind. Din helped you out of the boat, a bit wary of your strange plan. There couldn't have been anything out here. But you were scrambling onto the grassy embankment, paper bag of food in tow, and he followed diligently behind.

"I'm starting to think you're a bit crazy," Din teased. He'd roughed it before, and this was by no means roughing it, but he hadn't expected this from you.

"I know what I'm doing, Din. Just follow me."

The ground leveled out, marshes to one side of the creek, a smattering of trees on the other. The two of you walked along the shrinking stream of water, a soft blanket of grass beneath your feet, until you found what you were apparently looking for.

"When I was a kid, I would hide out here. No one could find me."

Din wasn't surprised. The small clearing was absolutely secluded from the rest of the world, the city skyline was gone, the sounds of the market reduced to nothing. Around him, the chirping and croaking of wildlife was the only noise besides the rushing water of the shallow stream. The air was warm today, warmer than it had been in a while, and though the evening was waning, you pulled off your cape and tossed it to the ground.

Without a second thought, you plopped down on the ground next to the stream, back against a tree, and off came your shoes so you could dig your toes into the sandy bank. You opened the paper bag, fishing around for the first pastry. When Din didn't join you, you patted the ground next to you, inviting him to sit.

"You're sure we're safe?"

"Of course we're safe, Din. I know my way around my own planet."

Finally he sat, looking slightly out of place in all his beskar. But he removed his helmet when you handed him one of the vegetable pies, helping him to look a little more relaxed in these unfamiliar surroundings. He leaned back against the thick tree, looking around to better gauge his environment. You, and the planet you called home, never ceased to surprise him.

"Have you ever left?"

"Where? Nhora?"

"Yeah."

You looked up toward the sky where the sun was starting to set, casting an orange and pink glow through the clouds. But you weren't looking for the sunset. You were looking for the moons, already rising.

"There. See the smallest moon, up and to the left?" Din nodded in the direction you pointed. "It's actually the biggest, only it looks small because it's so far away. That's where I was born. But no, otherwise I haven't."

Din nodded solemly and took a bite of the pie. You weren't sure why he'd posed the question and he didn't seem inclined to explain. You watched as he chewed slowly, crumbs from the crust spilling onto his armor. And then his eyes went wide with enjoyment. The soft buttery pastry melted in his mouth, sweetness contrasting with the salty filling.

"Wow, this is delicious."

You smiled in satisfaction. That reaction was all you'd wanted all day, to see him blown away by the things you called home. He finished the first pastry in silence and then held out a hand, asking you wordlessly for another.

"I once visited a planet with no atmosphere," he said abruptly. It was surprising to hear him speak like this, freely, with no prompting. You held your tongue because it was the only way to encourage him to go on. "Then there was the planet where I couldn't stop moving unless I wanted to be someone's lunch."

He paused, thinking. "I know four languages. Aside from basic."

That one was impressive. You realized this was him opening up. Sharing. It made your heart tingle with warmth. Then Din fell into silence, indicating it was your turn.

"I can fly an x-wing," you said after a moment of thinking. "Not very well. But in a pinch. And I've never punched anyone, though I really want to punch that Angor prince sometimes."

"You can try it out on me."

"I think I'd rather not break my hand on your armor," you said with a laugh. What else? "I'm twenty-six years old."

Din took a deep breath. "I don't know how old I am. Maybe thirty-nine. Or forty."

"You look older than that."

Din glanced at you to gauge if you were joking. You were, in fact, joking, a big smile filling the round apples of your cheeks, mouth full of flaky pastry. "Alright, very funny. Your turn."

"I--" Where did you want to take this conversation? Din's presence next to you made you feel comfortable and warm and something about that inclined you to dig deeper, let him in a little more. "I don't know who my father was. Or is, I guess."

Din let out a quiet breath beside you. You were both watching the sunset, not one another, but you didn't have to see his face to feel comforted by his presence. "My parents are definitely dead if that makes you feel any better. No doubt about that."

The admission was a difficult one for him, and he was glad you didn't press any further. But then suddenly your hand was on his leg, gripping his knee tightly and telling him to be quiet.

"What's wrong?"

"Shh!" For a moment Din thought you were in imminent danger, but then he saw no alarm on your face, only excitement. "Don't move," you whispered.

The final light of the sun had dimmed, leaving you surrounded by a deep blue twilight. And yet, you still managed to spot the creature, sitting on a rock across the stream from you. You stood as quietly as possible, moving slowly so as not to scare it away. Without bothering to roll up the legs of your pants you stepped barefooted into the shallow stream, the cool water rushing around your ankles, not yet warmed by the sun of the warming season. But a little cold water wasn't going to stop you from catching the small creature.

Din watched as you bent over slowly and then snatched as quick as lightning, grabbing at something sitting on a rock. When you stood, triumph on your face, he nearly laughed. "What is that?"

"It's a glow frog, remember?"

Of course, he remembered. The animal you'd compared Grogu to. You were grasping the frog firmly but gently, holding it up for Din to see. It was a comical sight, a woman normally so regal and queen-like, shin-deep in marsh water, wild animal in her hands.

"So is the glow part just for kicks or..." The frog was not living up to its name. No glowing in sight.

"Just wait. It takes a second." The sun had fully dipped below the horizon now, the light from the three moons overhead the strongest source in the night sky. But then it happened. The small creature in your hands began to illuminate, green and fluorescent. It started slow, almost imperceptibly, until it shown bright, casting its glow across your face.

And you were right. The resemblance was uncanny. The frog opened its wide mouth, eyes large, and it croaked, surprising you enough into dropping it back into the water. You giggled, and suddenly Din spotted the youthful shine reappearing on your face the way it had the other night in the kitchen.

"They respond to pressure, releasing a chemical when you surprise them. I used to catch them all the time out here. The only downside is this," you said, holding up your hands which now fluoresced as well.

"That doesn't seem healthy."

"Oh, its fine. Look, it just washes off." You rinsed your hands in the water, the green fluorescence washing downstream, most of it coming off, though not all. When you pushed the hair out of your face with a wet hand, you left green glowing streaks behind on your cheeks. You glittered in the moonlight.

Din had never seen you so happy. What happened to you?

"What did you say?"

Oh Maker, he'd said that out loud. He hadn't meant to. And he could tell by the fallen look on your face that you had definitely heard him, only wanted him to repeat it to be sure. Din regretted the words immediately, watching as the joy faded from your face.

"Nothing. Forget it." But it was too late.

You waded back across the stream, a sudden chill running through your body as the night air cooled. You sat heavily, pondering the implications of actually opening up to the man next to you. You'd spent so long trying to bottle up how you felt, pretending it didn't exist, pretending you weren't attracted to him, that the tender gesture of Din replacing your cape around your shoulders forced it all out in one go.

Once you started speaking, you couldn't stop. And he listened.

"I was seven when the Clone Wars finally came to an end. It was a...brutal, destructive end. After my grandmother died, my grandfather came back to visit sometimes. He promised to protect us, even though it went against our customs. Something about Mandalorian creed. I'm sure you understand," you said, gesturing vaguely in Din's direction. "But Nhora seemed safe from the war. I was still living on Lunar Post 3 with the rest of the kids from noble families. It was easier like that, educating us all together in one place."

You took a breath, coming to the hard part.

"I had an older sister, Tia. She was so...perfect. I looked up to her. She was going to be queen and even though she was eleven years older than me she treated me like the only star in the sky." Tears pricked behind your eyes but you kept going, kept yourself steady by gazing up at the sky. "She and my mother came to visit for my birthday. It was the last trip she would make before her coronation. But everything went wrong. I don't remember it well, but when the explosions hit there was no one there to protect us, not the guards, and especially not my grandfather. The first one killed my mother. Tia died in the second, shielding me.

"The blasts were meant for me and the other noble children, the second borns, the replaceables, the one's who could be eliminated and then played like a bargaining chip to force my mother's hand to help the Independent Systems. I didn't understand. I'll never understand. I was too young. But instead they took out the royal line and left only me. And so began eleven years of non-stop training for a position I was not born to have. I wanted to escape so badly, to any planet as long as it wasn't this one, just to mourn them even. But this was all I had," you said, gesturing to your surroundings.

Din was silent, unsure what to say, but you were grateful for that. You preferred silence anyway.

"The scars have healed with time. Maybe one day they'll be gone."

"Emotional scars never heal," Din finally said. He was watching you, one knee propped up to support his elbow as he leaned against the trunk of the tree.

"Well, that's true, but I don't mean emotional scars. I mean physical ones."

"But you're so... well, you're so whole, so undamaged." He was thinking about your soft hands and how smooth they'd been on his face.

"That's not true. I have scars."

Din narrowed his eyes, prompting you to continue.

You shrugged your cape off again and started to unbutton to top buttons of your shirt. You had nothing to prove to this man, didn't need to do anything to earn his respect. And yet you wanted to show him the most vulnerable parts of you.

"You don't have to--"

You yanked the collar of your shirt down, effectively shutting him up, and putting the scar that sliced along your clavicle on full display. "Here's where the first blast hit."

Then you turned away, kneeling with your back to Din, and fully unbuttoned your shirt, letting it slip from your shoulders and gather at your waist to show him the second scar, another long slice that curved around your right shoulder blade. Both scars were old, softened and faded over the years from having grown much bigger than when they were inflicted. They no longer hurt to touch, though the searing pain of the memories was still there.

"How..." Din couldn't finish his sentence. He was too preoccupied with the sight of your bare back, smooth except for the line that hinted at the intense trauma from your past. And the scars were beautiful; you were beautiful. He realized with a shudder that you were now naked from the waist up, giving the marsh a show he'd been thinking of catching a glimpse of for a while now.

You heard Din move, heard him shift and lean forward, felt his warm presence behind you. You wondered momentarily if he would touch you and found you liked that thought.

You didn't feel him reaching out until a single finger touched your back gently, gliding along the path of your scar and sending a shiver down your spine. The goosebumps that followed his touch did not go unnoticed by either of you. You looked back over your shoulder, watching Din from the corner of your eye as several waves of emotions washed over him, pity, sadness, horror, fascination, admiration. But he couldn't seem to pull his hand away, ungloved, from the skin on skin contact.

"Do you miss your family?" His question was asked in barely a whisper.

"I don't really remember them anymore." It was difficult to admit that you had mostly forgotten what your mother and sister looked like.

"You can miss something you don't remember having." Din was right, of course, though he'd said it absentmindedly, thinking of his own family. His fingers were still tracing along the skin of your back, up your vertebrae, across your ribs. Something else had taken control of his hand, like he didn't know what he was doing anymore, unaware of his movements.

You could have stopped him. Brought him back from wherever his mind was floating up in space. But you didn't. You leaned into his touch, consenting to the reassurance of his presence. You let Din wrap his arm around your waist, place his warm hand against your bare tummy, and pull you in.

He didn't know what compelled him to hold you like this. He'd never wanted to touch anyone this way before. But you leaned into him, your body melting against his, a contented hum spreading through you and into the big hands that held you, and it felt like a piece of him he hadn't even known was missing had been returned to its rightful place.

It was oddly serene, this position of being encompassed by someone so much bigger than you. But he was hot against your naked skin, insulating you from the night air. He pressed his face against your neck, breathing you in, lips barely grazing your skin, and you thought you could sit like this forever, protected, safe, warm.

He didn't try to grope you, didn't try to get a peek at whatever you might look like from the front. It was intensely comforting, knowing that he respected you, knowing he wouldn't take advantage of you the way so many other men tried to do. He only wanted to inhale your scent and never let go of this feeling he had no name for. It was a feeling he'd only ever felt once before, while holding the kid for the last time, knowing he had to say goodbye. Neither of you wanted to move.

The sounds of the world melted away and it was only you and Din and his breath against your skin. You had no idea how long you stayed that way.

"We should go," you whispered. "Before someone realizes I'm gone."

Though reluctantly, Din pulled away, that all-encompassing warmth gone, and he helped you dress. He'd barely even seen you, barely even touched you, and he was craving more. He wanted to be linked to you forever, to hold your hand the way you had in the market, to kiss you. He'd never done any of it before and yet he knew without a doubt you were the person he wanted to be with. He just needed to know you felt the same.

"You don't have to do alone," he said, hoping you would understand what he was offering.

"Excuse me?" You turned back to look at him but the helmet was already on and you couldn't tell what he was implying underneath it.

"Rule. You don't have to rule alone. I know you can. I've seen you do it. But you don't have to."

You stood, suddenly feeling exposed though fully dressed again, like the Mandalorian had just read your mind and discovered every feeling that swirled around in there.

"Don't you dare tell me what I do or don't have to do, Djarin," you said sharply. But your voice cracked with suppressed tears."There are traditions to follow, customs I have to abide by. This is my place."

The words were harsh, more defensive than they should have been and you regretted saying them the moment they left your mouth. But Din had recognized in you what you truly wanted, to not be alone anymore, to have a family again, and it scared you.

"Are you afraid of heights?" he asked unexpectedly, standing as well.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, your words still laced with annoyance and defiance. You were still feeling defensive, but now you were equally as confused.

He repeated the question and you shook your head slowly. What was he planning?

"Good, I'm tired of walking," was all he said before he wrapped his arms around your waist, powered up his jetpack, and shot straight up into the air. Somehow, you managed not to vomit at the sudden change in altitude. But Maker, you were flying, and incredibly fast.

One moment you were frozen in shock and the next you were screaming, your voice lost to the wind that pummeled your face. You hid your face in the crook of Din's next, holding on tight. No, you weren't afraid of heights, but that wasn't the problem here. The problem was you felt like you were going to fall at any moment, no matter how tightly Din held you.

But it was a short flight. You landed less than gracefully at the front doors of the palace, stumbling like you'd just stepped off a boat. Din caught your elbow and righted you.

"Dank farrick, Din! You scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry. You were spiraling. I had to do something."

You realized he was right. The shock of adrenaline coursing through your body had completely distracted you from the emotions you had been overwhelmed with only a couple of minutes ago. But now they started to flood back, the loneliness, the fear. Why did you feel these things, but only now, with Din right next to you? Did he remind you of how hard it was to be alone, show you what you were missing? You had to get away, to be with your jumbled thoughts for a moment and collect yourself. You couldn't breathe.

"Thank you for... spending the evening with me. I--" You couldn't look him in the face, even though it was hidden behind the helmet. You didn't finish your sentence, just walked away, leaving the Mandalorian standing in the entrance to your quiet palace.

"You can't run forever." You were already halfway up the stairs when Din called out. You didn't stop, didn't turn around, just ran like the coward you were from the feelings you couldn't hide from him. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You were an idiot that couldn't tell the one good man on this maker-forsaken planet how you really felt.

In your bedroom you stripped, changing quickly into your pajamas and then curling up in bed under the covers. Maybe if you pressed your face into the pillow hard enough you could scream in frustration and no one would hear.

Din had watched as you walked, no, ran, away from him. He should have stopped you, should have told you how he felt. How did he feel, though? What words would he have to say to you, other than what he'd already said? And then what, just to have you throw his feelings right back in his face.

He didn't move until you'd disappeared from sight, only then making his way to his room. It wasn't often that Din got the opportunity to sleep without his armor on. He usually didn't feel safe enough. But here, in this palace, he pulled each piece off one by one and stacked it on the floor. Here, he could sleep in comfort, in peace, without anything to bother him--

Except that he knew he couldn't. Not when he felt there was something left unsaid. He hoped you wouldn't be asleep yet, hoped that when he saw your face he would know exactly what he wanted to say.

You didn't get the chance to scream into your pillow. Someone knocked softly at your bedroom door, disturbing your stress relief hours. You swore to the Maker, if it was Zena or one of your guards here to berate you for sneaking out again, you would actually scream, and not into a pillow but in their face.

But it wasn't Zena or a guard or anyone else. It was Din on the other side and you were wearing those damn transparent pajamas again like you knew what they did to him. But he had to focus. He had things he wanted to say. He'd caught a glimpse of the real you deep inside and he wanted it back, all for himself.

"I meant what I said." Din never raised his voice, but now he was becoming insistent. "You put so much into caring for others. But have you ever thought about accepting some help every once in a while?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your heart rate. Why did seeing his face like this make you so nervous? It excited you to find the Mandalorian standing patiently outside your bedroom, especially at this time of night.

"I don't need help," was all you managed to sputter out. Apparently, Din had made a stop in his room to shed his armor, the first time you'd seen him without it. You'd expected him to look smaller under it all but he still managed to fill your doorway and block your escape.

"Maker be damned, I'm trying to tell you that I want to take care of you. I'm not offering because I think you need me, I'm offering because you're allowed to need me." Din took a step forward, closing the gap between you even more. Written on his face was an urgency you'd only seen a few times before.

"I--" You didn't know what to say. I don't know how? "I can't think when you look at me like that."

"Like what?" Din's voice was low with earnest gravity.

"Like you care."

"I do care. I care a lot, but for some reason, you won't accept it." His hands found your face, holding your chin to force you to look into his eyes. "Somehow you think this is disingenuous. And I know you don't trust many people but let me be one of them."

Care. Trust. His words rattled around your brain and sent you spinning. He was so close, so warm. The world was hazy with that tingling feeling, the one that pulled you to him, made you reach out a hand to touch the dark fabric of his undershirt. You had no idea what you were doing, no control over the movement of your fingers as they took hold and dragged him closer.

"Stop running," he whispered softly, letting you pull your bodies together.

He cared. Oh Maker, he wanted you to lean on him, to give him some of the burden you carried. So you did, letting your hands find his shoulders and rest there.

"Do you trust me?" you asked in a hushed tone.

"Of course--"

"Then kiss me."

He didn't need to be told twice, closing the last of the distance between you and kissing you with the same urgency that was written on his face.

You were it, the first and last. Your lips were like a siren's song, dragging Din to the depths of a passion he'd suppressed for so long, calling for him to relent to their addictiveness. He would drown in this taste until he succumbed.

Din kissed you tenderly, carefully, as if he was afraid you would disappear the moment he let go. No man had ever kissed you this way. They had all been greedy, triumphant, dominating kisses, as if you were a prize to be won, a conquest to be conquered. But Din, Din kissed like he had everything to lose and nothing to gain in return. He only pulled away when you did, breathless and panting for air, foreheads pressed together.

Your hands were still grabbing his shirt greedily as you dragged him into your bedroom. Din was so lost in capturing your lips with his again he barely noticed being pushed onto the bed until he was flat on his back with your body stacked on top of his. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing your hips flush with his, your knees straddling his waist in return, and your elbows leaning on either side of his head.

No matter how tightly he held you it wasn't enough. He needed to fit that missing piece back into the hole in his heart. But your lips were a start. It was impossible to tell where yours ended and his began and that's how he liked it.

Was this what he was missing out on his whole life? When you prodded your tongue against his lips, he let you sink deep into his mouth, moaning in response and sending vibrations through his chest and into yours.  He ran his hands up and down your sides, memorizing every curve and contour, wishing the clothing that separated you two would disappear but not knowing how to make it happen.

You broke away to run your fingers through Din's hair, his really fucking soft hair, and place a kiss on the nose that was simply begging to be kissed. You'd wanted to do that for a while.

"How do you taste so good? Like heaven on my tongue," he mumbled. His words sent shivers down your spine and you pulled away to look at his face. Din's eyes were closed, heavy with bliss and experiencing the greatest pleasure of his life. Your body tingled with excitement.

"Have you never been kissed properly?" you asked teasingly. It was meant as a joke.

"Never been kissed," was his short reply, eyes still closed, a dumbstruck look on his face.

You stopped in your tracks, abruptly pulling away further and sitting up.

"What?" you asked, a bit louder than you'd intended.

Din's eyes flew open. He wasn't sure what to say. He'd thought it was obvious, considering how awkwardly unaware he was of what he was doing. "I've worn a helmet for three decades. Doesn't really aid in building romantic relationships."

Suddenly you felt like apologizing, afraid you'd forced him into something he didn't want. "Oh Maker, I'm sorry, if I'd known I would have--"

"Woah, slow down, Angel." You were speaking too fast, tumbling over your words a mile a minute. Din sat up as well, holding onto your hips to keep you straddling him, grounding you and letting you know it was okay. "Don't apologize. I want you. I need you."

Fuck, he needed you. The sincerity in his eyes and his tender use of a nickname eased your worry. But you were still unsure. What if this was some part of his Mandalorian creed, and you were breaking it? Din seemed to recognize the concern on your face, the way he always did.

"Look at me." You did. "I want this. I promise. I've dreamt about kissing you since the moment I met you. Fuck, you have no idea. I dream about holding you and touching you and making you feel good. I just--I don't know how. Tell me how."

This was...new. Uncharted territory. Men usually knew what they were doing. Or at least thought they did. Generally, they were arrogant enough to believe they were pleasuring you, even when they weren't. Never had anyone asked what you wanted. The fact that this man, the greatest warrior in the galaxy, was absolutely clueless but asking for your help, turned you on even more.

If he thought that kiss was good, you were about to blow his mind.

Din had seen naked women before. Once, he'd chased a bounty into a strip club and shackled the man as he was paying for a lap dance. But nothing could compare to you. The urgency that had dominated your kiss was gone, replaced by a deliberate craving. You guided his hands to the buttons of your shirt, urging him to take it off himself. He did, fingers grazing your skin as he slipped the item from your shoulders, leaving your heaving breasts bare before him. You were breathing rapidly and Din burned, knowing that he was the reason why.

"Tell me if you want to stop."

Din nodded, eyes roving all over you, from your face to your chest to the soft plane of your stomach. Between your breasts hung the round pendant of your necklace and he watched as it swung gently back and forth. You could tell he wanted to touch you but was unsure if he should, or how he should. So you took his hand, holding his fingers gently to place them on the soft skin of your neck.

"Follow your fingers with your lips."

At first, he was confused, but then you began to move his hand, dragging his fingers down your neck, along your collarbone, over the tender flesh of your breasts, across your hardening nipple, and down toward the hem of your pants. Din did as he was told, placing soft, open mouth kisses everywhere his fingers went. He placed his free hand on your back, stabilizing you as you leaned back to give him better access. He lingered on the soft mounds of your areolas, taking each into his mouth and sucking gently. He did it instinctually, not knowing what reaction he would receive from you, but taking immense pleasure in the moans he elicited from your mouth.

Mouth still tasting every inch of your bare skin, Din gripped your hips and flipped you around so that you were laying on the bed. He wasn't sure if it was what he was supposed to do, but it seemed like the right move. He continued to kiss you everywhere he could, meditating in the sweet floral scent that an evening spent in nature had left upon you. You nodded when he looked into your eyes, silently asking to remove your pants for you.

Maker, you were gorgeous. He took a ragged breath at the sight of you, slick with desire, all for him. You whispered his name, pulling his intense gaze away from your folds and back to your eyes.

"Watch," you said. And then you began to touch yourself, a lazy finger gathering your wetness and dragging along your slit. You let your legs fall open to give Din a better view as you pleasured yourself. With your middle finger, you found your clit and circled, easing into the satisfying feeling that you knew would build toward an orgasm. You added another finger, dipping slowly into your cunt and savoring the warmth you found there.

Din could tell you'd done this many times before, knew exactly how best to touch yourself. But now someone was watching you, intently, exploring your edges and lines with his gaze, cataloging every hitch in your breath and twitch of your stomach. He studied your patterns and movements like he did his bounties, learning what you liked, anticipating your reactions.

"Fuck," you cursed under your breath, the wicked voyeuristic sensation lighting something new in your core. What had once been your own dirty little secret you were now performing for an audience, an extremely attentive audience, and it was hot as fuck.

Din watched as your head flopped back in pleasure, a breathy moan escaping your throat, as your free hand came to your breast to pinch and twist the hard bud. Just seeing you this way, writhing beneath your own touch, was making his cock grow hard, but he wanted desperately to be the one to make you feel that way, edging you toward orgasm.

You noticed his need and grabbed his hand to replace it with your own, though not before bringing your fingers to Din's lips for a taste. He wrapped his mouth around your wetness with no reluctance, eyes sinking shut with heady desire and licking them clean.

Like heaven. He wanted you so badly, to know what every inch of you tasted like. He would have to be patient.

Everything about this was irritatingly slow, but it brought your craving for him to a new level. The urgency that had built as you worked toward your first orgasm had subsided to a dull ache without your consistent fingers, begging to be attended to. You knew you could finish yourself off, quickly and easily. But you wanted him to be the one to do. You wanted to know what it was like to unravel beneath the Mandalorian.

Din truly had no idea what he was doing and he couldn't sustain what you'd started. But he was curious, unafraid, and the acute learner in him caught on quickly. You gasped as a thick finger entered you, experimental and slow, and you grabbed onto his shoulders for both his support and your own. He added another finger, testing the velvet softness of your cunt and the ridges of your walls, filling you and stretching you in a way you couldn't do for yourself. He could get the angle right, you knew, better than your own fingers could, but it wasn't enough. You would have to show him.

You peeled open your eyes, unaware that they had even been shut in the first place, to watch him. He was taking you in with his eyes, leaving no part of you untouched by his gaze.

"Din, look at me." His eyes snapped to yours. "Like this."

You showed him how to curl his fingers, how to press his thumb to your clit at the same time. And when he did, Oh Maker, it was the sensation you'd always craved but could never perform for yourself. He filled you so well and only his fingers were touching you. A stifled cry left your lips and you gripped his shoulder harder, trying to ground yourself despite feeling like you were being lifted off into space. He leaned down, fingers still moving magically inside you, and took a nipple between his teeth, nibbling gently and soothing the searing sensation with a soft kiss before doing it all over again.

"Does this feel good, Your Majesty?" he asked against the skin of your chest, voice husky with arousal. It was utterly sinful, using your title while he was finger fucking you into oblivion.

You could barely do more than moan in response. He was catching on quickly, noticing how your hips jerked in response to the pressure on your clit and your walls clenched around his fingers when he simply curled them up and forward. You were falling apart slowly but surely, your breathing erratic, some very unqueenly curses falling from your perfect lips.

This was torture, this build-up, slow, consistent, inching. You could feel it coming, feel the heat pooling between your thighs and your pelvic floor spasming. But it was so fucking slow, like marching straight toward a cliff and not knowing when the edge would come, when the ground would fall out beneath your feet. And you loved every moment of it.

Din's face had fallen to your neck, his lips pressing heated kisses everywhere he could put them. He could feel your erratic pulse beneath his lips, the vibrations of your moans spreading through him. "Does this feel good? I need you to tell me. Tell me."

"Fuck, yes Din, don't stop. Don't-- don't do anything different. It's perfe--"

The words got stuck in your throat as you moaned into your approaching orgasm. You would cum any moment if--

And then, the edge of the cliff gave out and there was nothing beneath you but your crashing orgasm and Din's steady hand, guiding you through your pleasure. Oh Maker, the progress had been so measured and gradual you hadn't even known it was coming, but now you were falling and falling, only to be caught by Din's unyielding touch.

Din's face was buried in your neck as you came, your delicious cries breathed directly into his ear. It was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard, the sound of you fracturing into a million pieces by his hand. He cursed under his breath and you felt his words against your skin as you came down from your high, twitching and spasming.

"Are you okay, Angel?" he asked sweetly. He brushed the hair from your face to gaze deeply into your eyes, bewildered by what he'd just done to you.

"I'm more than okay," you replied with a giggle. You couldn't help the sound that bubbled up in your throat. "Come here."

You pulled at Din's shirt to drag him into a kiss and realized he was still fully clothed, the bastard. You wanted the shirt off with the rest of his clothes. You wanted nothing between you and him.

"Off. All of this off," you said, motioning to his clothes. Din complied and stood, tossing everything to the floor. You sat up onto your knees on the mattress so that you were at his eye level when he approached the edge of the bed once more. Reaching out to pull him in by his hips, you caught a glimpse of the amazing specimen before you. Broad and thick was the best way to describe him, both his shoulders and his cock. He had smooth, soft skin with hardened muscles beneath, no doubt from the taxing nature of his job, slightly tanned and beautifully scarred.

And he was hard for you. It sent a thrill up your spine to grasp gently at his thick length as he pulled you closer, lips against yours. He gasped into your mouth as he aligned his body with yours, bucking his hips involuntarily into your hand while you stroked him slowly. You took the opportunity to nibble his bottom lip, relishing in how fucking good it felt to press your skin to his. He was intoxicatingly warm, his big warm hands on your back, his big warm cock against your stomach.

"Can I ride you?" you asked against his mouth. Din groaned, eyes fluttering shut.

"I have no idea what that means but yes, please."

"Lay down." Oh Maker, it felt a little too good to tell this force of a man what to do and have him listen. But that was a feeling to be explored at another time. Now there was only fucking him into the next galaxy. You wanted to hear your name, your real name, from his lips.

You climbed across Din's lap, straddling him but not sinking onto him yet, instead letting his cock rest between your folds and tease your entrance gently. You were in no hurry, the high of your first orgasm still leaving you overly sensitive to touch, but you could tell Din was eager for release. He gripped your hips tightly as you leaned down, letting him take each of your breasts in his mouth, one by one.

When you began to grind your hips slowly against his, it took all his effort not to let the dam break right then and there. He'd gotten himself off plenty of times, even going so far as to hold back as long as he could to prolong the pleasure. But your folds were slick and warm against his twitching cock and he wasn't sure he could take the torture much longer. He needed to be inside you and he wasn't above begging.

"Are you going to take me or just fucking tease me all night?" Din huffed.

You smiled and pressed a kiss to his lips, wanting to taste his exclamations on your tongue when you finally sank your pussy around his length. And he did not disappoint. He was just as loud as you'd hoped he'd be, after finally lining your entrance with his length and easing down onto him. What you didn't expect was how good it would feel to have him inside you, your own moans mingling with his at the sensation. He filled you completely, stretching you further than his fingers had. It was slightly painful, but only in the sense that pleasure is often conflated with pain. You took him fully, feeling the head of his shaft press against the sensitive flesh of your cervix deep inside you.

Rolling your hips experimentally, Din jerked below you, trying to speed up your movements, but you wouldn't relent. With a hand on his face, thumb and fingers pressing into his cheeks, you maintained eye contact, the other hand against his chest for stability.

"Let me take care of you, Mando," you whispered with a hazy smile. He wanted so desperately to flip you over and fuck you however he pleased, but he held back, the sight of you beautiful and bare atop him mesmerizing and enthralling. The flush of your skin and the gentle bounce of your tits as you moved hypnotized him into obeying your request. He would do whatever his queen asked of him, he knew, without question.

You slowly picked up the pace, maintaining the rocking motion that dragged his cock along your g-spot and drove Din mad. He groaned and grunted beneath you, his sounds mixing with yours in the otherwise quiet bedroom. You leaned back, placing your hands flat against his thighs, and kept going, loving the way he let loose without inhibition or reserve. His hands gripped tightly at your hips, crashing you back down every time you rocked up, and you felt your second orgasm building in your core. It was now a question of who would come first. You suspected it would be Din.

It was his turn to fall apart, to lose control. You wanted him to relinquish his dignity the way you had to him. Finally, those precious words left his lips, at first a whisper and building louder, your name groaned over and over and over again. Your walls clenched at the sound and he choked beneath you at the sensation.

"Fuck, Angel, I'm gonna cum if you keep that up." You leaned forward again and noticed his eyes were screwed tight like he was holding back as best he could.

"Oh baby, that's the point. Cum for me, Din. Cum inside me, baby." The commanding words tumbled from your mouth, mixed with your shameless moans as you held back your own orgasm, wanting to clamp down around his cock as he came. With a jerk, you felt his cock twitch inside you, and Din cursed loudly with a groan. He seized your hips even harder than he had before, firmly holding you against his own as he came hard, his cum spilling deep inside you. With his heat filling you, you let go, releasing your own orgasm and contracting around his length, milking every drop.

You collapsed on top of Din with an overstimulated sob, not even bothering to pull off of his throbbing member. He wrapped his arms around your back and held you, his ragged breath in your ear slowly steadying and returning to normal.

"Fuck, that was beautiful," Din murmured. "You're beautiful. Oh Maker, you're so beautiful."

Din wasn't sure what was happening to him but he couldn't stop talking. Every thought, praises, rambling, absolute nonsense, that crossed his mind left his mouth, completely out of his control. You giggled, your own cock drunk brain unable to comprehend little else other than how sweet his soft grin was or how he had only one dimple on his left cheek.

"I'm going to just fall asleep like this if that's alright with you," Din said, rolling you over onto your side so he could pull the covers over the two of you and hold you. You giggled again as he rested his chin on the top of your head and you buried your face in his chest, letting his warmth wrap around you. "And then I'm never leaving."

Though he said the words lightly, it was difficult to ignore the finality they carried, so you deflected. "Didn't you promise Zena you would train with her in the morning?"

Din groaned at the reminder. "I did, didn't I?"

When you didn't respond, he looked down at your face. Your eyes had closed softly and your breath was deepening, sleep starting to tug at the edges of your brain. You hadn't realized how tired you were until you were hunkered down, feeling the security of Din's fingers pressed against your back, the rising and falling of his chest lulling you into a sense of safety.

Din pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, believing you to be asleep, but needing to say these next words anyway, needing to make up somehow the failures of your grandfather.

"I know I won't always be around. I can't always stay. But I'll always come back. I promise."

*Read Next Part*

[thebibliomancer]

Tides of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 24

Tides of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because THE MARINER IS BACK and that’s a bad thing. For the protagonists. I’m pretty excited about it personally.

Last times on book: Amri and co are on a quest to unify the Gelfling clans against the Skeksis. They’ve succeeded with the Sifa and Dousan, causing impressive pyrotechnics that burned a record of the plot into nearby surfaces. While they were working at that, All-Maudra Mayrin was killed by the Skeksis and they’ve installed her daughter Seladon as the new All-Maudra. After meeting the urRu Swimmer in a dream, maybe, Amri came up with a plan to use the Waystar Trees on the nearby mountains to reach out to the Vapra. The group finds the Swimmer’s secret mountain house and stops in to warm up but they’re surprised by skekSa the Mariner.

Chapter 24

Tavra makes an appeal to the Vapra; skekSa isn’t mad, she’s just disappointed. Also, she’s livid.

So last chapter ended with skekSa demanding to know where the Swimmer is.

“We don’t know what you’re talking about,” Naia said.

skekSa swept closer, filling the room. She tilted her head at Amri, counting the number of Gelfling before her, then leaned over the worktable and smoothed her claws along the paper and ink, touched the tomes and scrolls. Her gaze lingered on the maps they’d been looking at, then came back to the Gelfling before her.

“Maybe I believe you.”

“Why are you in Ha’rar?” Amri asked. “Weren’t you supposed to stay with the Sifa in Cera-Na?”

“Why would I? They abandoned me. Without their navigators and charts, I cannot escape this infernal mainland. Then Emperor skekSo called me to Ha’rar when things got, how shall we put it? Complicated. With All-Maudra Mayrin. And I remembered that there is someone with the charts I need, who keeps them in her tower near the Vapra Waystar grove.”

Oof.

You have to feel for skekSa a little.

Okay, so she wasn’t helping the Sifa escape out of the goodness of her heart, she desperately wanted to escape too.

She’s absolutely paranoid that the Emperor would send assassins after her for her defiance in, I guess, trying not to live in his hierarchy.

And even if you take into account the show where the death of a Skeksis is unthinkable to the Emperor, remember too that there’s a lot that the Skeksis will do to each other that won’t result in death.

I don’t blame her for wanting to escape.

But perceiving it as the Sifa abandoning her to not abandon the other Gelfling is not a healthy way of coming at it.

Anyway, this reminds Amri of the Swimmer saying “what is a compass without a ship” and he realizes that the inverse “what is a ship without a compass” is true too. But says it aloud for some reason.

And this makes skekSa very angry, although she calms down to go back to being classy hiding menace.

She mentions that skekZok told her about an encounter the Chamberlain had with a group of Gelfling where “one in particular -- a Vapra, to his memory, but I think he may be mistaken -- threw Sifa fire dust in his eye.”

“You wouldn’t know who that might have been, my little apothecary?”

Amri tried not to shrink back. “He was asking for it.”

“Oh, you can burn out both his weepy eyes for all I care.”

HAH!

No surprise that the Mariner who hates Skeksis politics would hate the Chamberlain. He practically is Skeksis politics.

But the major takeaway of the story was the Chamberlain’s description of the Drenchen in the group. A Drenchen who matched the description of the Drenchen who escaped the Castle of the Crystal.

Naia.

“Ritual Master skekZok is very keen in this aspect, you see. And since we are friends, he and I, then you can imagine I am keen as well.”

Ruh roh.

“Of course, I didn’t fully understand his interest in you when we met in Cera-Na,” skekSa continued. “But now that I do, and now that he’s offered a reward for your capture, how fortunate it is that you are here before me, trapped in this tiny room.”

RUH ROH.

Interesting that the Mariner did know who Naia was all along. She just didn’t care at the time when Operation Go Somewhere Else was on the table.

Naia promises she’ll die before she lets herself be drained but skekSa says that skekZok doesn’t want to drain her. The Skeksis need her and Gurjin to study their twin bond to answer some questions that many of them have been wondering.

Kylan stood up, standing firm beside Naia. “Aughra said you’re wrong. She said it’s not going to help you understand how to drain your other halves.”

skekSa scoffed.

“Is that what they think? Unfortunate.”

Hah.

The Skeksis are way off base but skekSa would get her reward for bringing Naia in either way. I like that she’s scornful at how they’re barking up the wrong tree.

Its what I expect from an accomplished pirate captain detective scientist like her.

But since a reward is a reward and because she doesn’t want to fool arond, she offers a deal. She gets to take Naia. In exchange, the rest of the group gets to go if they promise to leave the mountain immediately and not get in skekSa’s way again.

(Imagine from her point of view where you keep running into protagonists)

Naia pointed her dagger at skekSa. Before Amri could stop her, she said, “I’ll take that deal, but I won’t go without a fight.”

“Naia, no --”

Kylan’s protest was cut off by skekSa’s grin. She knocked aside her coat, baring the glinting gold handle of a long blade slung at her waist, putting a hand on the grip and sliding it loose with a deadly, metallic scrape.

“I accept your challenge,” she said.

Fairly accommodating of skekSa, really.

It lets her friends get away and it means she can try to run away because thats part of the struggle.

I mean, its not quite fair. Skeksis way outweigh Gelflings and hit like a truck. And skekSa is in the prime of her whatever age she is, not like those creaky castle dwelling Skeksis. Fresh salt air has done a body good.

Tae decides to stay and fight with Naia while the rest go and do the Plan they’d Planned on. And Tae is their best fighter.

Amri recognizes that this is the best chance they’ll get, hates it, but grabs an angry Kylan and runs anyway.

They (Amri, Kylan, and spider Tavra) trudge through the snow and up an almost vertical slope and reach the circular grove of glowing blue and white Waystar trees.

And at a good time. Far below in Ha’rar, the Vapra gather and the Skeksis will come to the gathering soon.

Hm. I wonder if whats taking the Skeksis so long is skekSa up and disappearing on a mountain hike. She was called to Ha’rar to help and she went off on a personal errand.

I can imagine skekZok looking for her around the Citadel, cursing as he finds her boots behind a curtain making it look like she was hiding behind that curtain. Or something like that.

Amri searches the Waystar trees, to find the ideal one whose roots burrow into the mountain and intertwine with the veins of water and ice that spread to the city below.

He finds the sturdiest tree and his rock sense or whatever lets him feel the whole mountain and every street of Ha’rar by touching its bark.

“It has grown here since long before the Vapra arrived,” he said. “Before Ha’rar. This tree knows the entire mountain, the entire valley. Runs under the citadel and through every street of Ha’rar. If it agrees to carry Tavra’s message, every Gelfling in the snowy land will see her dream. Hear her voice, and know they are not alone...”

AH HA! So that’s the plan! Amri’s rock sense, Kylan’s music magic, and Tavra’s Tavra to reach every Vapran in Ha’rar through something like dreamfasting that the Skeksis can’t overhear. Good the Plan, Amri!

Kylan starts playing a similar tune to the one he played before the Sanctuary Tree, causing the Waystar trees to glow even brighter.

Amri sees a dreamfast of the three of them standing in the grove but Tavra is with them in her Gelfling body, dressed as a Vapra princess.

“Hear me, Gelfling of Ha’rar. I can only hope you hear me and recognize my voice. I do not have much time, so I can only tell you part of all I have to say. And it is that the Skeksis have lied to all of us. The dream on the pink petals is true. The Skeksis have begun draining us, deep in the Castle of the Crystal. My mother the All-Maudra knew this and planned to rise against them. And in punishment, the Ritual Master and the General murdered her.”

Amri felt a tremble in the dream, as if the earth itself was shivering. The whispers that shuddered through the tree’s veins and the ice and rock were from the Vapra. From anyone who was listening, who heard Tavra’s voice.

“I do not know what the future holds for the Gelfling, but I know this: No matter what the Skeksis say to you, no matter how dark the night may seem -- there are friends in that darkness, waiting for you. Readying the torches we will bring against the Skeksis, when it is time for their reckoning. We will survive. We will endure. Wait for our signal. Let it guide you and we will be victorious, so long as we are together.”

It felt like the beginning of an electric storm crawling across the earth and skin. Amri felt the warming of kindling and a thin string of smoke. He felt footsteps, the earth shaking. Distant voices as Tavra finished:

“I know this and I wait for you, though it may be in the darkness. For in the shadows, we will light the fires of resistance.”

Heck of a speech, Tavra.

I notice that characteristically she doesn’t raise her voice or pepper around exclamation points. Just gives a simple, measured message of hope.

Anyway, its good that she finished up because the fight they left at the Swimmer’s mountain home spills over into the Waystar grove, destroying one of the trees.

Nobody is happy here. The two Gelfling and one Mariner are all wounded from the fight. Amri is not pleased that skekSa followed Tae and Naia to where the Plan was happening. And skekSa’s not happy that they’re all still on the mountain doing things.

The Mariner asks if this is how the Gelfling repay her benevolence in letting them go but Tae shoots back that the Sifa have trusted skekSa for trine and asks whether it was all a lie.

skekSa composed herself, just a fraction, standing straighter and sniffing.

“Little Tae,” she said, though a snarl sharpened the edge of her beak. She grabbed another of the Waystar trees and cracked its limbs in her claws, careless with her impossible strength. Its glow died like an ember pulled from the fire. “I would have taken Ethri and the Sifa across the Silver Sea. Far away from the Emperor and the castle and all of these stupid politics. But Ethri decided not to go. It was you who defied me. Declared your true allegiance. I am not an ally of the Sifa. I am your master.”

Oof.

The underlying thing in all benevolent paternalism is the paternalism. And that can turn ugly when its defied or not given the respect the whoever feels entitled to.

The thing with a parent/child relationship is knowing when to let them go and be adults of their own and that just won’t happen without bad feelings when a “superior” long-lived species rules over a “less advanced” shorter-lived one.

And even if skekSa disdained Skeksis politics and felt drawn to the Sifa for their shared love of that sailing life, at the end of the day, the Skeksis are gonna be around forever while Gelflings lead lives comparable to mayflies. Its hard to stand up against the only people who will share eternity with you.

Its why I think skekGra is the only Good Skeksis that can last. He’s removed himself from a position over anybody else. Just he and himself for company.

Anyway, back to the skekSa.

“Now, as your lord, I will tell you the same thing the General and the Ritual Master are telling the Vapra below. At this very minute. The rebellion is dead and a lie, burnt to cold ash along with the All-Maudra. The Vapra, and the rest of the Gelfling, have only one fate: To bow to the Skeksis, and to gaze upon us with immortal fear. To cower in utter submission.”

Her voice fell low and sinister as her breath clouded around them like a fog.

“There will be no more fires,” she said. “And there will be no resistance.”

Amri replies, basically, with ‘nuh uh’ and points towards Ha’rar.

The torches dotting the city flash through a rainbow of flames, burning bright enough to light the city like daytime. And the flames dream-etch onto every wall of the Vapra citadel, just like at Cera-Na and the Wellspring when the literal flames of resistance were lit.

[Amri] stared in wonder at the etchings as they rippled across the broad surface of the citadel, unraveling for all to see. The depictions of the Omerya, the Sifa, Maudra Ethri. The shade-filled leaves of the Wellspring Tree, protecting the Dousan from the darkening storm.

And now the next verse of the song, which they had told that very night atop the frozen bluffs: Shining like a star, radiant with light, was the image of a Vapra soldier-princess, the crest of six trees emblazoned on her living crown.

WOW!

The recap flames just nominated Tavra to be All-Maudra. Geez, sucks to be Seladon.

It makes a narrative sense in this version, I’m afraid.

Since we’ve stuck with Naia’s party, Seladon is barely a character. We haven’t seen her insecurities first hand and her struggling with her mother’s expectations and her own desires and all that. We don’t directly see her lean into Skeksis loyalty.

Tavra HAS been very present and active in the narrative of the three books. (And people have been VERY vocal about her being a better candidate for All-Maudra. Like very vocal. Seladon would have cried if she had been around for those conversations).

So just taking into consideration the YA novels continuity, we don’t know Seladon. We know Tavra and want good things for her especially since so many bad things have happened.

And another thing... what will happen after all the clans unite has been left vague but if the Skeksis don’t relinquish power gracefully, it could be war (as it was in the show). Maybe a soldier-princess All-Maudra is more fitting for the times the Gelfling are heading into instead of the trained stateswoman raised to be essentially the middle manager between Gelfling and Skeksis.

Sorry Seladon.

[starlightsearches]

Office Romance: Ch. 14 Undercover

General Hux and Kylo Ren have found themselves competing for the affection of a lieutenant aboard the Finalizer.

Series Warnings: Language, some violence, near-death experiences.

Masterlist

AN: Oof, some big warnings for this one, specifically sexual assault! The reader goes undercover and someone makes advances on her, so please read with caution. She also kills a man, but that’s not described.

The music was loud in your ears, the bass thumping through your entire body as you danced, performing the steps with a smile on your face, showing off for the crowd below. It was too hot, too noisy, but you had to look like you were enjoying yourself; the success of the mission depended on everything going smoothly. Besides, you should be grateful. You had fought to be here.

The first fight had been the most difficult. Convincing Allecull, the chief intelligence officer and your sworn enemy, that you deserved a spot on the ground team had almost been impossible, especially with both the general and Ren taking his side.

“You do realize that this man tried to have you killed?” Allecull had asked, like you were some kind of idiot. You had contained your anger; you knew that reacting in rage would not help your case. You had to seem calm, in control, or there was no way they’d let you go with them. It was terribly unfair, you certainly deserved to be angry.

“Yes, Major, I realize that. I’d like to return the favor.” Eventually, the ground team leader, Kane Cheepres, had convinced the others that you deserved a spot on the team, but not without three conditions. Number one: you would not engage the target; number two: you would stay under surveillance the entire time; and number three: you would leave at the first sign of trouble.

A new song started, and you forced yourself to recall the steps you had drilled into your head in the time before the mission, the movement relatively easy compared to what you were used to, even though it was a bit more lewd. You were playing the role of one of the clubs many dancers, who were spread around the area on individual, elevated stages. 

The stylist had told you that she wanted you to look fun, but what she had apparently meant was loud. You couldn’t help but feel exposed in the spangled, iridescent outfit: a pair of shorts for mobility and a crop top that exposed part of your midriff when you moved. It was not skin tight, at least, and she had opted for a casual pair of tennis shoes instead of heels like most of the other girls were wearing—better for running, in case you had to make a quick getaway. However, the wig she had put on you seemed to be made for nothing but inconvenience. It was long, grazing your tailbone when you moved, violet in color, and heavy. The whole ensemble made you feel like some kind of deranged butterfly, but it served its purpose; despite the intensity of your outfit, you still blended in rather well.

“No sign of the target,” you said quietly, knowing that the stealth comm placed near your mouth would pick up the sound, even over the thundering of the music. Your eyes scanned the space below you, searching for the man who had paid to see you dead. Antibree Soar.

According to Ren, Antibree was heir to Soar Weapons Manufacturing and the man who had ordered the hit. He had squandered his newfound fortune not long after his father’s death and targeted you, hoping that taking out a First Order officer would convince the Resistance and the Republic to see him as an ally, increasing his profits.

“Can anyone tell me why there’s a Resistance pilot here?” You heard the voice through the comms, belonging to Renaia Shadhin. She was the undercover operative who had been tasked with the actual elimination of Antibree, and was on the dance floor now, waiting for a sign of him. You searched for the pilot she was talking about, finding a familiar face near one of the lounge on your right. Poe Dameron. You had read his file. He was sitting in a chair, facing the crowd, a small smirk on his face, looking carefree and confident.

“I think I see him, too,” you responded, “on my right, in the lounge?”

“Black hair, brooding eyes, ruggedly handsome?” she asked in confirmation, and you couldn’t stifle your giggle quickly enough. You liked Renaia. She never lost her sense of humor, even in serious situations. How she could work with Allecull on a regular basis, you would never understand. As if on queue, another voice sounded off in your ear.

“Stay focused. You can fawn over Dameron later,” Allecull said. He was with the observation team in the transport that had taken you to Coruscant, along with the general, and Ren—who had insisted on coming—plus a few others, monitoring the holocam feeds in the club.

“I’ll keep my eye on Dameron. You two, work on locating the target,” Kane commanded, also undercover, moving from his place against the wall closer to the bar. You tried not to think about one of the many cam feeds trained on you as you performed, transmitting the image back to the observation team, and the ever-critical Allecull. Now was not the time to worry about your reputation.

“Hey doll!” A new voice called to you from below as the song ended, and you crouched down to speak to him. The manager of the club, a rat-faced man with a cheap hair piece, Braale, was down there, waving you off the stage. You hopped down carefully and bounced a little from foot to foot, trying to stretch out your legs.

“Yeah, boss?” you asked. You were playing peppy—eager-to-please—and it was obviously working. He giggled at the title, nudging the girl next to him, who tried to move out of his reach.

“Boss, huh? I like that. Hey, Marielle, remind me to tell the other girls to start calling me boss from now on!” The dancer nodded half-heartedly, rolling her eyes and giving you a dirty look.

“Marielle’s gonna be taking over for you here, I want you to go work the crowd. You’ve got quite a few fans already. On your first night, too!” he winked, pushing Marielle to the stage.

“You got it, boss,” you said brightly, walking past him and onto the churning dance floor. The crowd was sweaty and dense as you moved through it, bodies pressing up against you from every angle, some contact accidental and some decidedly not. You dodged the grabbing hands lithely, reminding yourself once again that you had wanted to be here. That you still wanted to be here.

“Make sure you stay visible, General,” Allecull ordered over the comm, and you rolled your eyes. Where did he think you were going to go? 

You found your way to the edge of the room, to one of the less populated bars, and asked the bartender for a water, hoping to cool yourself off a little. You had a decent view of the space when you turned back to the crowd—not as good as the one from the stage—but it would suffice. The club was less a room and more a giant, indoor arena—the dance floor impossibly huge and impossibly packed with the young, the rich, and the egotistical. Corsucant’s finest.

“I’ve got eyes on the target,” you heard Kane say, his urgency interrupting your thoughts, “on your left, Renaia. Lieutenant General, he’s heading for you.” You found him on the edge of the crowd, recognized him almost immediately from the photos. He looked young—younger than you—with chubby, smiling cheeks and a crop of fluffy blonde hair, scanning the crowd with eager eyes. He saw you looking, and looked back, moving to you with enthusiastic determination. Fuck.

“Get out of there, Lieutenant.” Hux’s voice came in over the comms channel. 

“I can’t, he’s already seen me. If I run it will only be more suspicious.” You took a few  deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. You were in disguise—he probably didn’t recognize you—and you could use that to your advantage, but you had to make a plan now before everything went to shit. 

“I’m going to turn off my mic,” you said quickly, “you’ll still have sound, but if I leave it on he might be able to hear you if he . . . if he gets too close.” Sounds of dissent poured into your ear, loud and overlapping, but you blocked them out, shutting off the speaker before you could second-guess yourself. 

Turning back to the bar, you prepared for impact, hoping to look more at ease than you were. You felt his presence as soon as he arrived, and then there was a hand at your waist, demanding, insistent, pushing you playfully into the bar. A pair of lips at your ear.

“Hello there,” he whispered, and you thought you might gag. Your instincts told you to whip around, ready to fight, to shove, to scream, to get this man away from you. But you were frozen. It was him; the man who had hoped to see you dead for his own gain. Antibree Soar.

You turned slowly, and he leaned against the bar, trapping you in his arms as you faced him. You glanced down, trying to look appropriately flirtatious, and then back up through your eyelashes. It had the desired effect.

“What’s your name?” He whispered, placing a hand at your hip, holding you to the bar forcefully. It would probably bruise.

“Kaytari,” the name rolled off your tongue so easily; despite the pounding of your heart, you were slipping into your disguise like a pool of water.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” His breath was thick with the scent of alcohol, and the fog of it clouded your nose, but you smiled at him, biting your lip. It was easy to pretend when you thought about killing him. About getting him alone.

“I saw you dancing earlier,” he said, his other hand having found a place on the back of your thigh, tracing your bare skin with a light touch, and you shivered involuntarily. You tried not to think about the cams, the men on the ship who were watching these events unfold, but it was difficult to clear your mind in a moment like this one when so much had gone wrong already.

“You’re very talented.” His whole body was against yours, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe, the pressure toxic, the feeling of him worming its way into your skin. Casually, you placed your hands behind you, jumping up onto the bar, trying to escape the poison of his touch.

“Thank you,” you said, and he forced his way between your legs, the suggestive contact making your stomach roll. You needed to end this, as soon as possible. “You know, dancing isn’t my only talent.”

“Oh, really? Tell me more.” You didn’t let yourself think about it before you leaned in and kissed him.

“I’ll give her one thing,” Allecull said, throwing his comm down in frustration, “she’s a damn good actress.” The transport was rife with tension as the events unfolded, all eyes trained on the video feed of you and Antibree. Hux could feel the embarrassment of the other observation team members, and a few of the men turned away from the projection, uncomfortable watching such a heated moment between a superior officer and potential murderer. General Hux swallowed hard, but he wouldn’t let himself look away. You were sitting on the bar, Antibree between your legs, your hands on the back of his neck, his hands all over you. His lips trailed from yours, down your jaw and to your neck, and you arched into his touch, pulling yourself even closer, a low moan escaping your lips like a wet dream from hell.

“Can’t you shut off the audio?” someone yelled to Allecull, and Hux put his hand out to stop him.

“If we turn off the comm, we lose all contact with the lieutenant. Leave it as is.” A sick anger wriggled into Hux’s mind, feelings of betrayal that he didn’t deserve but couldn’t stop pricking him like knives as he heard you whimper over the comm, and then say breathlessly, “if only there was somewhere we could go.” 

“Renaia, follow her,” Allecull ordered, watching closely as you slid from the bar, hand in hand with Soar. He pulled you around the edge of the club, towards a dark corner, and an exit guarded by two bouncers. Hux had seen layouts of the building; he knew what happened behind those doors. 

“They won’t let me back there on my own, sir,” Renaia responded anxiously, “I’ll keep watch outside.” With a twisting in his gut, Hux watched you disappear from view, out of reach of the holocams and into the hallway, and the crackle of your comm turned to an oppressive silence. Your mic had cut out.

Ren had been silent up until this point, watchful, leaning against the wall with barely-controlled rage, but he saw no use in trying to rein in his impulses now. The general argued with Allecull, trying to formulate some kind of plan to get the audio back online, or get you away from Antibree before he found out who you really were. Hux could argue all he wanted; Ren wasn’t going to sit around and wait.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Hux interrupted Allecull mid-sentence, addressing Ren, but he ignored him, heading to the exit of the ship, saber in hand. The exit led to an alleyway behind the club—disgusting and probably foul-smelling, Ren was grateful for his mask—but private as well. Despite the horde of people inside, the area behind the club was deserted. Ren didn’t know where he was going, but he walked on anyways, determined to find a path that led to you.

“Stop!” Hux ran out of the transport, not bothering to avoid the ancient puddles of water and shit and who-knew-what-else that littered the way. Ever the annoyance, the general ran in front of Ren, trying to block the exit. Ren didn’t bother to pause, flinging Hux into a wall and continuing out of the darkness of the alley. His rage was all-consuming; it had to be, if he let himself feel anything else, he’d be paralyzed.

“If you go in there, she’ll die.” Hux’s statement echoed down the alley. Ren hesitated.

“So we should wait around here for her to die, instead?” Ren knew he had to save his energy if he was going to get you out of there alive, but the temptation to end Hux’s miserable life right then was incredibly captivating.

“Don’t pretend you’re the only one concerned for her safety, Ren,” the general stood from the ground and joined him at the mouth of the alley, just deep enough in the shadows that they would not be seen if someone passed by. “You need to trust her.”

“Like you trust her, General?” The accusation made Ren livid, “with all of your spying? Please. Tell me, what has FN-2187 found out for you?”

“I trust the Lieutenant implicitly, Ren. It’s you I don’t trust.”

“We can’t just sit here and do nothing.” 

“If you walk in there, you’ll cause mass panic. There’s at least one Resistance operative inside, what would stop him from opening fire the second he sees you?” Ren hated that Hux was making sense, but he didn’t plan on listening. He needed to see you, alive. Now.

“I’m going in there; you won’t convince me otherwise. She needs my help.” He began walking forward again, and this time the general did not try to stop him.

“I don’t think you really believe that, Ren. You won’t admit it, but your motives are selfish,” Hux turned to go back to the ship, but was frozen in place when Ren seized control.

“Selfish?” The air in the alley turned cold, and Ren’s anger was like ice in his veins. He walked to the general, standing between him and the ship before letting go.

“Yes, selfish. You don’t really think she needs you. You want to save her so she’ll owe you something. It’s disgusting.” The low light of the alley turned red, and the air filled with the buzzing sound of Ren’s saber. Unconsciously, General Hux backed into the wall.

“Take it back,” Ren couldn’t speak above a whisper, his head reeling from the oppressive wrath threatening to take over, and, at least for a moment, the general seemed truly frightened.

“Go ahead, Ren. It won’t stop me from being right about you.” Hux’s voice was even but Ren’s hand shook with the force of his grip on the hilt of his saber, and for a moment, he truly believed that he would kill him.

A small cough echoed down the alley, and Ren and Hux both turned to see Mitaka at the mouth of the ship.

“Excuse me sirs, but,” he paused, and Ren reluctantly holstered his weapon, “the lieutenant general is back online. The target has been eliminated.”

Back on the ship, Hux tried to shake the fear that lingered from his encounter with Ren as he watched your image on the projection in front of him. It had been worth it, he thought, to protect you from Ren’s rash behavior, but his hands were shaking, and he held on tightly to the control panel in front of him so that no one would notice. On the holoprojector he could see the image of you wandering the dance floor, waiting for Renaia to meet up with you before leaving the godforsaken club once and for all. 

“Sir,” one of the men in the transport said, and Hux looked up to see one of the ensigns gesture to a different image, “I’ve got eyes on the Resistance pilot, he’s moving. It looks like he’s headed in the same direction as the Lieutenant General.” Hux searched the scene and located the pilot, who was closing in on you from behind. He was close, much too close for comfort. How had they missed him before?

“Dameron is approaching, General. Get clear of him,” Allecull told you over the comm, and you tried to move deeper into the crowd, but your path was blocked and suddenly he reached out, grabbing you by the shoulder.

“Hey,” the pilot’s voice was loud and slurring, and he leaned in so that you could hear him over the music, “don’t I know you from somewhere?” You ducked your face towards his ear, making sure he couldn’t get a good look at you. Hux was sure that the Resistance would have your photo by now, it had been circulated pretty widely after the HoloNet caught hold of the story of your attempted assassination. But would the pilot recognize you? And what would he do if he did? You were so close to being out of harm's way and now this man could ruin it all.

“I don’t think so,” you yelled back, “I’m new here, this is my first day.”

“Oh, you’re a dancer? No shit, huh? I swear to god I know your face from somewhere . . . “ he trailed off, but his grip did not loosen. He was swaying a little where he stood; still, Hux had a sneaking suspicion that the pilot was only acting inebriated, and a rising panic crept up his shoulder blades.

“Get out of there now, General.” Allecull commanded you over the speaker, and you panicked, trying to pull yourself out of his grasp. Hux was desperate to see you do something, anything, to get away, to cause some kind of scene and escape to safety, but you stood your ground, closing your eyes and taking in a deep breath.

“You don’t know me.” The others didn’t notice the modification of your demeanor, but Hux certainly did. Your tone of voice had changed completely; you were no longer yelling, but speaking low and quiet, and you raised your other hand up to his face with a small wave, a familiar gesture. Almost immediately, Dameron let go of you, his face going slack. He blinked a few times—like someone had flashed a bright light in his eyes—and then found your face again, but there was no recognition in his expression. Hux watched the scene unfold, his anxieties from earlier compounding into something dense and heavy in the pit of his stomach. Holy shit. 

“He’s completely intoxicated,” somebody in the transport yelled with a high-pitched laugh, and then another voice rose up, saying “stars, I can’t believe that worked.” 

“I’m sorry, do I know y-” Dameron said, before he was cut off by Renaia, who ran up behind you, grabbing you around the waist with a squeal.

“There you are!” she yelled, remarkably good at acting less-than-sober, “It’s our song, girl, let’s go!” You followed her into the crowd, turning back to Dameron with an apologetic shrug, but he didn’t seem to notice you leaving. He was still dazed, standing in the middle of the dance floor for a moment, looking around like he had just forgotten something important, but couldn’t remember what it was. 

“On our way back to base,” you said over the comms, and the men in the transport let out a collective sigh of relief. Hux scanned the room, trying to see if anyone had noticed anything odd about your escape from Dameron, but they all seemed to accept that he had been drunk. It didn’t make any sense. Last he had heard, the force was closed off to you, except in rare instances. Had you and Ren been hiding your true progress from him? Hux didn’t know everything there was to know about the force, but he knew that a mind-trick like that would be difficult without a considerable amount of training.

You and Renaia entered the transport, and a few of the men cheered, congratulating the both of you on the success of the mission. You accepted the praise graciously, but your expression showed some inner turmoil. You broke free of the group as the transport prepared for lift off.

“I need to speak with you, General” you said quietly, brushing past him casually before walking into the storage area of the transport. Ren followed closely behind as you and Hux entered the little room; you must have signaled to him silently. The space was cramped, but private, and you slid to the floor, finding a seat among the boxes and holding your head in your hands.

“What happened?” Hux asked.

“You saw what happened.” You sounded far away, dazed, and it terrified him. He didn’t understand.

“You used the force,” Ren said. Hux had already known, but hearing it said out loud was jarring. Ren kneeled in front of you on the floor of the storage room, and something moved between the two of you that Hux could not identify.

“How did you do it?” Ren asked urgently; he seemed just as confused as Hux did, maybe even more so.

“I don’t know,” your voice broke on the last word, “I knew I had to try something. I can’t believe it worked.”

“So you feel it, then? The force?” Ren asked again, and you nodded into your hands before looking up to Hux.

“I never been able to use it before, not consciously. We’ve been practicing some more simple things, like sensing emotions, but nothing has really worked . . . until now.”

“Then what changed?” He asked, and you shook your head.

“I’m not sure, but,” you paused, “I think that my father might have something to do with it. There’s something you need to know about Allegiant General Pryde.”

Tags: @acunningstargazer​, @itsa-pseudonym, @ddaeing​, @dark-night-sky-99​, @i-jus-wanna-writehappy​, @fresa-luna​, @leiadelreyy​

[hoe-doroki]

Alright, friends, your local demi is going to take one last bow before ace week is up.

I’m going to talk about myself, because I the lived experience of ace and acespec people isn’t talked about enough and, well, this is the week to talk about it!

Now that that’s out of the way, let’s bring in a good ol’ frame of reference:

78% pure. For those who don’t know this is the rice purity test, where high scores mean you haven’t participated in many “racy” activities and low scores mean you have.

First, let’s state that I don’t want to put too much stock on this test. Only 3/4 of the questions are about sex and dating while the remaining 1/4 is about alcohol, drugs, and illegal activity. (Part of the reason my score is so high is because I, unrelated to being acespec, don’t drink or smoke.) But, like I said, it’s a place to start.

Stats. I’m a 24-year-old woman. I am cisgender, straight, and demisexual/demiromantic (not asexual or aromantic). I have never had a boyfriend, I have never enjoyed kissing, I have never had sex.

Oof, and right away, I’m embarrassed saying that.

And that’s the whole problem.

(This post clocks in at ~1.6k, so the rest is under the cut. Trigger warning for suicidal ideation.)

Well, not my whole problem, haha, but it is why I’m bothering to talk about this instead of keeping it secret, like I prefer to. I want to dispel some myths that harm the way I view myself and keep me from being honest with others. Because I fear that when people look at me and hear “24-year-old virgin” they assume things about me that just aren’t true.

First thing’s first. The fact that I’m a virgin means nothing except that I have not had sexual intercourse with another person. There are no other assumptions to be made.

It hurts when people are surprised by this. I happen to fall mostly into the barbed categories of American conventional attractiveness, so when people hear that I have never had a boyfriend or that I’m a virgin, they assume there’s something wrong with me. Or that past men I’ve been around have missed an opportunity or something.

This is shitty on two levels. One, the assumption that my stats are the way they are because of some failure sucks. All it should be is a reflection of my agency and the fact that I am the queen of saying no. (In fact, it was my first word.) But then people are assuaged by the fact that I have, in fact, been approached for sex, as though that confirms for them the value that they assumed I had. As though that’s where any of my worth should be coming from.

Two, these assumptions, when flipped, imply that it would “make sense” for me to have my stats if I looked different or was less neurotypical.

Media--as it does--has played a role in these assumptions. I think about the characters who are “later-in-life virgins” and I think of Emma Pillsberry from Glee, who deals with extreme OCD and germophobia. Or Sheldon and Amy from The Big Bang Theory, the former of whom might very well be acespec and is likely on the autism spectrum as well, but who is shown to be very antisocial with many difficulties forming interpersonal relationships and the latter of whom comes from a very conservative family and a mother who ensured she couldn’t learn social skills until well into her thirties. Or the “what if” episode of Friends that basically asserts that Monica would have been too fat to get laid. Or The 40-Year-Old Virgin, which I don’t wish to talk about. (Oof, all such problematic examples)

And yes, these characters are all white (I am not) and that’s a discussion for another post better made by someone who is more of a media expert than me.

These characters are all portrayed to have something that “explains” why they haven’t yet had the privilege of having sex. And we see in movies like The 40-Year-Old Virgin, or a whole host of teen movies, that virginity is something to conquer--especially for male characters.

I don’t look how people expect virginity to look. I’ll be real--I have high self esteem. I think I’m awesome inside and out and I don’t see any reason why I should be shy about that. I know that if I wanted to have sex with a stranger, I could do it tonight (covid notwithstanding--be safe, friends).

And even if I were a different person who had less self confidence or looked different or came from a different background, that wouldn’t mean that I “deserve” to be a virgin or whatever it is media is telling us. Virginity still wouldn’t have a damn thing to do with the other things that make up a person.

So, louder for the people in the back: being a virgin doesn’t mean that there’s anything wrong with me.

Next point. Being a virgin doesn’t mean that I’m innocent, a prude, or that I’m “waiting for marriage.”

Gosh, I’ve been asked if I’m waiting for marriage too many times. Two things. 1. No. I’d rather know my sexual compatibility with a partner before marriage and 2. I’m an atheist. So no.

Also, I am not innocent or a prude.

My lack of experience makes me feel infantilized. It does. That’s a personal issue of mine and, ya’ll, I don’t have many answers for how to overcome it. But I have done what I can to change that.

Guys, some of the best choices I’ve made in my adulthood are the things I’ve done to reclaim my sexuality (meaning sexualness not orientation) for myself. Not gonna get super nsfw here, but I’ve invested in about a dozen sex toys and I intend to buy more. They always makes me feel so much more adult and sexy. And I’ve done things with them that I feel pretty confident that many of my sexually active, allosexual friends haven’t done. This kind of thing isn’t for everyone acespec, but it helps me reclaim my worth as a sexual being, without needing a partner to validate that.

I’m also fully valid to write erotica! I love erotica and it’s another way I take back my sexuality. It is just as valid for me to write as it is for anyone else. I am capable of research--both on my own body and from resources, experts, and classes. I don’t need to have had sex for my opinion to matter.

Oh, and being acespec has nothing to do with my sex drive. It seems that I have a libido that is either average or slightly above average--I’m also a person that the more I’m engaging with my libido, the higher it gets.

This often feels like a curse. I, unlike many, but not all, acespec people, strongly desire sex. Like, I’ve bundled up a 35-pound weighted blanket on top of myself whilst engaging in self-pleasure just to try and make the activity feel more partnered (pro tip: that didn’t work.) The truth is that I’m really sick of having to take care of my libido by myself and would much rather have a partner.

But it’s not easy.

I’ve tried online dating, guys. Many times. I can’t do it. That’s not true of all acespec individuals, but it is for me, at least right now. For me, my demisexuality means that the idea and experience of going out, even on a casual date, with someone I’m not already interested in is nearly intolerable. And my current lifestyle, for many reasons, doesn’t lend itself well to me naturally forming crushes.

I’ve only had one major crush in my life. And it was 10 years ago. So you understand the difficulty.

I hate being demisexual, guys. I do. I wish that I could write this post with the intent of spreading pride and positivity, but I can’t. That’s not where I’m truthfully at yet. I’m lonely to the point of suicidal ideation. I’m too young for it, but I’m already making contingency plans for freezing my eggs or trying to imagine a future where I could be a single mother and...I can’t yet reconcile it. I know that part of this is my dreams being created in society’s image, but all I’ve ever wanted is to be a wife and a mother. And it’s hard to see that future when I can only look at my past and see images of silicone and sexual repulsion.

Remember when I said I’ve never enjoyed kissing? I’ve had more stage kisses than “real” kisses and, I have to say, the staged ones were more enjoyable because at least I wasn’t forcing myself to do them. Forcing myself to try to kiss someone so that I could feel “normal.” Forcing myself to kiss someone just because I was curious about what it was other people were talking about. My first “real” kiss was at 20 years old and it was a night where I forced myself to do a lot of things for the sake of catching up with my peers and I’ve been deeply uncomfortable with that experience ever since, and I can only be grateful that I stopped it as early in the evening as I did.

Everyone’s experience is so different, ya’ll. I haven’t heard a story like mine before, so in no way can I claim it to be an experience that widely represents demisexuality. It certainly doesn’t represent asexuality, nor how queerness (or many other things) intersects with either of those things.

But, at the same time, I’ve never heard a story like mine before. Do you know how helpful it would have been to have been able to see a story like this a few years ago? Ten years ago? It would have been life changing. Because even though, in the middle of all that self-confidence I spouted off about paragraphs ago, there’s this kernel of self-hatred stuck in my teeth, I would have felt validated. I would have felt seen. I would have been able to DM someone who could have told me, hey, it hurts and I know no one seems to understand you, but I do.

That’s to say, if anyone is going through something similar and wants to talk about it, my DMs are always open. I’m no expert, and I bet some of the things I’ve said here aren’t going to hit some people right, but this is my experience. This is the most intimate part of my life. It is a privilege that I’m sharing this with you all, so please, hold it with care. I hope this means something to someone.

Happy ace week, ya’ll.

Oh, and the rice purity test doesn’t mean shit. It’s good fun if you want, but if it makes you feel any kind of way because your number is too low or too high, throw it away. That’s not where any part of your value comes from.

[olicitysecretsanta]

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

A Goodbye Olicity Exchange gift for Erin ( @canadianbeauty2 ).

 I hope you enjoy this fluffy Meet-cute! (Playlist will be posted with the story on AO3.)

xoxo Meegan ( @it-was-a-red-heeler, cfcureton)

“But—“ “I’m sorry, there’s nothing we can do.” The ticket agent didn’t look sorry. She looked more anxious than anything, and who could blame her? The skies outside the airport terminal were actually turning green. Felicity huffed a frustrated sigh. “What about tomorrow?” A snarky smile appeared and then vanished from the other woman’s face. “The airport won’t be open tomorrow. Or the next day. We’ll be lucky to be operational by the end of the week.” She stuck a hand on her hip behind the counter. “I suggest you find a hotel to hunker down in. Preferably on a high floor.”

The woman looked away then, back to her paperwork, back to shutting down her terminal so she and her fellow employees could skedaddle home as soon as they were given the go ahead. Felicity swallowed a very explicit swear word. She knew eastern seaboard hurricanes weren’t uncommon this time of year, she just never imagined one would hit while she happened to be in town. Sure, the labs at Wayne Enterprises had seemed empty these last couple of days, but she’d been too busy to ask why, and what little she’d been outside the weather hadn’t seemed all that threatening. It rained all the time in Gotham. By the time she’d realized she should get out of Dodge all the outbound flights that could make it before the storm hit had departed and her return ticket was useless; refunds weren’t an option for cancellations due to weather. Which she’d just learned. Felicity snatched the handle of her rolling bag and yanked it up as she spun on her heel—there had to be another solution to this problem—and walked straight into a solid wall. Wearing a plaid shirt. “Oof,” she said, staggering back a step with her glasses knocked askew. The wall had a hand, and it reached out to cover hers on the handle of the suitcase, stopping her in case she fell. “You okay?” The wall had a nice voice. Too bad she was not in the mood to appreciate it. “I’m fine. Sorry.” “No problem. Did you have any luck?” “None.” Felicity set her glasses right and finally looked up. The wall had piercing blue eyes, a good amount of scruff, and tousled hair that was either perfectly haphazard or intensively styled. The head tilt was a nice touch. “Are you trying to get out too?” she asked. “No, I just like hanging out at airports during natural disasters.” He shrugged both shoulders the slightest bit. “It’s a hobby.” Great. A comedian. She rolled her eyes internally and steered around him, determined not to let anything distract her from finding another way out of this city. The click of her heels was almost the only sound as she marched through the echoing terminal to the car rental counter. Only one employee manned the long line of counter space; he was at the very end, of course. He looked up with bored eyes as Felicity approached. “I need a car, please.” The clerk regarded her briefly before shuffling through a stack of papers. “You’re in luck. I have one left.” She sighed with relief even as she heard the zing of suitcase wheels approaching from behind. She couldn’t help glancing that direction to get a look at the poor bastard who’d just missed out on escaping the city. It was the wall. The paperwork slapped onto the counter as Felicity handed over her credit card and snatched up a pen, eager to get on the road. She was halfway through initialing all the boxes when the machine beeped and she heard the clerk grunt. “Your card’s declined.” “What?” He tossed it back on the counter. “Looks like it’s expired,” he offered by way of explanation. Dread flooded her veins. Oh, Frack. She could picture the new one, sitting on her kitchen counter at home. She’d meant to activate it before she left. The clerk must’ve read the expression on her face because he shot her a mildly incredulous look. “You don’t have another one?” “No,” she moaned. “I only carry one.” She heard the guy behind her shift his weight. “We take cash,” the clerk offered. “Here.” A hand reached around her from behind and laid a card on top of her paperwork. Felicity’s eyes went wide. “No, I—“ “We both need out of here ASAP. There’s only one car. We can share.” She whipped around so fast her ponytail flew. He met her eyes and smiled benignly. Felicity’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times, fish-like, as she tried to come up with an excuse to say no. She saw his eyes shift to glance at her mouth and her spine straightened in indignation. “I don’t think it would be appropriate, under the circumstances.” His smile never faltered. “Under the circumstances, I don’t think you have much of a choice. The airport’s closing, and no hotel will take your expired credit card either.” He spread his hands and waited. Felicity’s shoulders dropped, defeated, and she turned to finish signing her name. “Fine. But I’m driving.” ————————————————————————————————– The car was easy to spot in the otherwise empty lot. It was sporty. And red. Felicity suppressed an eye roll. He fit both their bags in the trunk—barely—without comment and waited patiently for her to unlock the doors before squeezing into the passenger seat. She was putting the key in the ignition when it hit her. “This isn’t going to work.” “Why not?” “It’s a stick shift. I can’t drive a manual.” The dread was back. She held her breath to keep from crying and scanned the empty space around her, praying this was just a crazy mistake and there was another vehicle waiting for her. “Can you?” she asked, still looking around. “Can I what?” “Drive a stick.” “I can.” Did he sound a little hesitant? Felicity looked at him. “So I’ll go back and add your name to the rental agreement and then you can drive. C’mon.” She was already unbuckling her belt, but he hadn’t moved. “What’s the matter?” “I don’t have my license.” “You’re traveling out of town but you don’t have your license?” He shook his head no once. “How does that even happen? Never mind. We don’t have time. What do I do first?” He stared at her, dumbfounded. “You want out of Gotham before this hurricane hits? Then teach me how to drive a manual.” He studied her for half a second, expressionless. “It would help if I knew your name.” Her eyes crinkled at the corners in a frown as she studied him. “First names only.” He nodded acceptance soberly. “I’m Felicity.” “Oliver. Nice to meet you.” “Tell me.” “Okay. Before you turn the key, make sure you’re in neutral. The pedal all the way to the left is the clutch…” ————————————————————————————————– “Do you learn everything this fast?” “Probably. Why?” “No reason. It’s just…impressive.” “Thanks. I think.” Felicity rolled up to the stop sign at the entrance to the parking lot and looked both directions to check for traffic. “And we’re off.” “Wait!” His hand fell to cover hers on the gear shift and she jumped in surprise. “Where are we going?” “To the nearest airport that’s still open.” “No, I mean ultimately. Where are you heading?” Felicity studied him. What if he was up to no good, this one? Her mother hadn’t raised a fool. Still… “Starling City,” she offered after a beat. His eyes lit with surprise. “Great! Me too.” “Huh.” “What?” She squinted at him, suspicious. “Nothing.” She checked both ways again and eased the sporty little car out into the street. “Let’s go.” Oliver looked uneasy. “You’re sure you have to fly?” “Fly? Yes. It’s how I got out here, so it’s how I’m getting back.” “But I can’t.” The gears ground a little. “I think you missed second.” Felicity grunted. “Fully aware.” They pulled up to a stop light at the entrance to the airport and waited for it to turn green. “Do I get on the highway from here?” “Am I supposed to know?” “You’re the navigator.” Oliver sighed but logged into his phone. “We should have a plan.” “We have a plan. Closest open airport. That’s the plan.” “What about a train?” “A train?!” “Yes. We could take the train.” “Like hobos?!” “There are still passenger trains in the 21st century, Felicity.” “Nope. No way. I have to be in Starling by Friday, no exceptions. I can’t poke across country by TRAIN.” “Okay, hear me out. Today’s Monday. It’s a twelve hour drive to Chicago. I have a buddy who’ll put us up for the night. From there it’s two days by train. Or,” he waved a hand around, “you can get yourself a flight outta O’Hare. Either way we’re back in Starling by Thursday at the latest. Straight ahead to the on ramp.” The light turned, and they rolled forward while Felicity made weird faces and fought with the gear shift. “Ungh.” “Just think about it. The closest major airport that’s still open is probably in Pennsylvania anyway. We’ve got time.” Traffic was heavy but moving as the last evacuees headed out of Gotham. They entered the highway and picked up speed, and Felicity shifted into fifth for the first time. “Smooth. Good job.” “Thanks. So tell me, when you showed up at the airport this morning you were planning to, what, use your boyish charm to get on a flight without government-issued ID?” “First of all, I’ve never heard anyone younger than my mother use the phrase ‘boyish charm’.” Felicity rolled her eyes. “Second?” “Second, I didn’t lose my license until late last night, so I haven’t exactly had a lot of time to come up with an alternate plan.” “No passport?” “Didn’t expect to leave the country so didn’t bring it.” “Guess that rules out taking any shortcuts through Canada.” “Funny.” Ten miles passed below the tires with neither of them speaking. Felicity watched him from the corner of her eye; he had his shirt sleeves rolled up and his jeans cuffed. Casual but very tidy. How his profile could be just as good as looking at him head on she would never know. Normal people never got that lucky. His thumbs danced around his phone screen before he glanced up. Her eyes flicked away and she prayed she hadn’t been caught looking. “My friend is willing to put us up if we decide to drive to Chicago.” Felicity’s nails tapped the steering wheel in a rapid pattern while she mulled over her choices. “Okay. We’re heading west in any event, so see if you can find me a flight from anywhere closer than Chicago. Otherwise we’ll plan to stay with your friend. Deal?” Oliver nodded once and got to work on his phone. ————————————————————————————————– She’d expected—probably irrationally—traffic to thin dramatically as soon as they left the city, but the lines of cars and trucks only increased as they caught up to the myriad of people who had left the path of the storm in a reasonable time frame. Before long the westbound lanes had slowed to a crawl. “Ugh, okay. Tell me again why people drive manuals on purpose,” she muttered, down shifting as taillights lit up in front of her. The sky was no longer green here, but the rain had started a few miles back and the air felt heavy. “Bad news, I’m afraid. No flights until we get to Cleveland, and those are going fast. It’s only five more hours to Chicago from there, and a free night’s stay.” Felicity spared him a glance and then wished she hadn’t; those eyebrows lifted in question and the faint puppy dog expression were her undoing. She sighed like a martyr. “Fine. But I get my own bed.” ————————————————————————————————– Hours passed. She discovered they liked the same music, or rather Oliver seemed to have no opinion on her tastes either way, so she didn’t have to pull rank to choose the radio station. He filled the car without asking, and always brought back some snack or treat she didn’t ask for when he returned from paying. Interstate traffic was back to normal, mostly just them and the big trucks, and Felicity was so grateful not to have to think about when to shift she wanted to fist pump. “I could drive,” he offered once. “That wouldn’t be legal.” “It would only be a problem if we got pulled over, which I would never let happen.” “Pulled over or involved in an accident.” “Well that’s morbid.” “That’s reality. I prefer being realistic. It keeps you from being disappointed.” Oliver was quiet then, staying so still she risked a glance at him. He was studying her. “Have you always been this way?” “What way?” “Closed off. Cynical.” Felicity’s mouth dropped open in shock. “I am NOT closed off. I have lots of friends. Many friends. A few…select…close friends. And ‘realistic’ and ‘cynical’ are two very different things.” “Is that so.” “Yes. People find me quite charming.” “People.” She shot him a look. “Historically.” This conversation was going nowhere good very quickly. Felicity could feel the beginnings of a babble bubbling up from her chest, and she didn’t dare let that happen. “We need to find a place to stop.” He said it in such an authoritative way she took her eyes off the road to stare at him. The nerve of him, ordering her like that. “Look, Mister—“ “Felicity, you’ve been driving practically non-stop for hours. You need to eat.” She waved the half-eaten candy bar in her lap at him in illustration, but he only huffed an annoyed sigh. “Real food. You need an actual meal, and time to move around. And relax.” “In my family, the driver gets to decide when and where we stop.” “Well in mine, the person paying makes the final call.” She was in the process of passing a semi so she could only throw a quick glare at him, but she didn’t miss the raised eyebrow he was giving her back. “The next exit has restaurants.” “Fine. But only if it’s fast food.” ————————————————————————————————– He chose a sit-down restaurant. Felicity sat on her side of the booth and tried to hold on to her annoyance, but everything on the menu looked amazing and she was so relieved not to be moving she wanted to weep with gratitude. When she glanced up Oliver was staring at her over his menu. “What?” “Nothing.” His eyes flicked down. “What are you going to get?” She watched him purse his lips as he considered. “The Monte Cristo, I think. You?” “An omelet sounds good. I can always go for breakfast.” He grunted agreement without looking up. The server came and went, and then Oliver leaned back and stretched his arms out across the back of the seat. He had an impressive wingspan, she noted. And those lovely ropey veins peeking out from under his sleeves— “So what’s waiting in Starling that has you rushing home?” Small talk now? Great. Okay. Felicity took a sip of water to stall. “I have, um, a presentation Friday. A present—a pres—an interview.” She shrugged and tried to pretend her face wasn’t turning red. “I have an interview.” “An interview.” “Yes.” “For a job.” “Yes for a job. What else?” His brow knit in concentration. “You just didn’t seem sure.” “It’s very, um, it’s a big step for me. You know, a challenge. Growth.” She shook her head enough to flick her ponytail over her shoulder and couldn’t meet his eye. “I’m excited about it.” “Yes. You look thrilled.” If this conversation didn’t end immediately Felicity was going to actually die. “I’m gonna go wash my hands,” she declared, already scooting out of her seat. The food was on the table by the time she returned, and they ate with little comment. Oliver made her get dessert, even after she protested that she was disgustingly full. When the check was paid he ushered her from the restaurant but snagged her arm to drag her three laps around the building to shake everything out. “Anything else, Coach?” she quipped as she rounded the front of the car to unlock the doors. He rolled his eyes, but she also thought she caught the hint of a smile as he ducked to get in on his side. The next few hours passed in a blur. Oliver quizzed her on trivia he unearthed on his phone, and once she’d explained the concept of Mad Libs to him, he went searching for those too. The sun was beginning to set when they pulled into the last rest stop before the final push to Chicago. “C’mon, Felicity, get those knees up,” he ordered, jogging in place in front of her on the sidewalk by the restrooms. “Oliver, this isn’t funny.” “You don’t wanna get a blood clot from sitting too long in one position.” “People are staring.” “Let ‘em.” Felicity called him a name under her breath but bounced around as instructed. Across the parking lot a trucker blew his horn in appreciation and she threw a hand out in that general direction. “You see what you’ve done?!” Oliver grinned and the sight of it made her a little light headed. She told herself it was all the jogging. A little before 10pm they pulled up to a big house in a nice suburban neighborhood; a McMansion, her mother would call it. Fittingly, Felicity killed the car in the driveway by accident, but neither of them commented as it shuddered to a halt, preferring to stare out the windshield at nothing. “That…was a long day,” she said finally. “Agreed.” He sighed. “Don’t forget the hand brake.” “Yup.” Oliver carried her suitcase up to the porch without being asked as a tall handsome stranger waited at the door. The two men hugged unabashedly while she stood a step below them, looking away discretely to allow them their moment. “Tommy, Felicity.” Oliver made the introductions with a motion of his head, his arms being full. Tommy smiled and stepped back to allow them to pass. “Welcome. It’s not often we get hurricane refugees this far west.” Tommy’s smile was rakish but friendly. “Guest room’s up and to the right. Bathroom’s across the hall.” Oliver set his suitcase down in the foyer and gestured with hers. “I’ll put this up there for you.” Felicity saw Tommy’s eyebrow twitch up in surprise and suddenly felt weird and exhausted and done with everything. “Thank you for your hospitality. I’m gonna go up now.” She caught Oliver glancing back at her from the stairs but ignored him in favor of shaking her host’s hand and wishing him a good night. “You okay?” Oliver asked quietly as she trailed him into the bedroom. “Fine. Just tired.” “You did an amazing job today. I still can’t believe how fast you picked up driving a stick.” “Thank you…for paying my way here…and for finding us a bed. Beds. A bed and a couch. Whatever.” Oliver chuckled at her accidental innuendo, but she could tell he was worn out too. “Good night, Felicity. Sleep well. I’ll be right downstairs if you need anything.” He showed himself out and closed the door as he went, and for the first time since the morning she thought about how crazy it was that she was trusting this virtual stranger—and now his friend—with her wellbeing. Felicity got ready for bed and was out by the time her head hit the pillow. Below her the low drone of male voices catching up carried on late into the night. ————————————————————————————————– It took Felicity a full minute the next morning to remember why she was waking up in a strange bedroom. “Oh God,” she muttered to no one as she collected her shower things and peeked out into the hall before scurrying to the bath. The house was silent. Felicity repacked her suitcase and perched on the bed to collect herself and check for flights out of O’Hare. She could get enough cash out of an ATM to cover a plane ticket, and then she’d arrange to repay Oliver for her share of the car rental and her meals. She could be home by dinner tonight. Easy peasy. A door downstairs closed and male voices drifted up the stairs, so she set her phone aside without picking a flight and went in search of breakfast. The house was nice, a little on the bachelor pad side, maybe, but clean enough. It appeared Tommy lived here alone. The man in question was perched on a bar stool at the kitchen island in sweats and a tee shirt, laughing at something Oliver was saying as he scrambled eggs in a skillet. It was such a domestic scene Felicity thought maybe she’d been under the wrong impression about her traveling companion. It was a strangely disappointing discovery. “Morning,” Tommy offered brightly. “Pull up a stool.” “How do you like your eggs?” Oliver asked. His hair was mussed from sleep, but even the flat spot on the side was endearingly sexy. Stop it, she admonished herself sharply. He’s gay. “I’m not, actually. Scrambled okay, or would you like another omelet?”

Oliver turned away smoothly to plate the current batch as Felicity’s jaw unhinged. Fracking frack, she’d said that out loud. Tommy was grinning openly at her. “He is awfully pretty, isn’t he? But he’s a total ladies’ man, I promise you.” Tommy gave her a bold wink. “We both are.” “Easy,” Oliver warned gently, sliding a plate of eggs and bacon to his friend and turning back to start again. “Scrambled’s fine,” Felicity muttered, mortified, from behind her hands. Next to her Tommy chortled. “I’m putting peppers and onions in it, just so you know. You don’t eat enough vegetables.” Felicity’s face popped up from behind her hands to protest. “Hey—“ He pointed at her without looking away from the stove. “Corn Nuts do not count. We’ve talked about this.” She huffed a sigh and looked away, only to find Tommy watching her with one curious eyebrow lifted. When her plate and his were ready Oliver circled the counter and threw a leg over the bar stool on Tommy’s other side. “Made up your mind about flying or taking the train?” Felicity stabbed her eggs. “I should fly. I have to finish my presentation.” “Plenty of time for that on a train.” “I need to fly. Besides, a train trip sounds expensive. I can’t ask you to cover both of us going.” Tommy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You know who he is, right?” “Shut up, Tommy. It’s not a problem, but I’ll do whatever you want. I’m gonna go take a shower.” Felicity didn’t miss the warning look he shot his friend before setting his empty plate in the sink and walking out of the room, but Tommy flipped on the small tv at the end of the counter to watch sports and ended any chance of her asking questions. She hauled her suitcase downstairs on her own and was sitting primly on a leather ottoman in Tommy’s living room when Oliver reappeared in a dark blue sweater with just a hint of white tee shirt sticking out underneath. Felicity pressed her lips together firmly to keep her thoughts on the inside. “Do you have time before your flight to drop me at the train station? If not, Tommy said he could do it.” “I—oh. I, um, I haven’t picked a flight yet.” Oliver stood and considered her silently for a moment. “No?” She shook her head, feeling more ridiculous by the second. She’d made her choice, now she needed to follow through. “I can drop you at the station on my way,” she decided. He nodded at the same time Tommy materialized over his shoulder. “You kids all set?” Felicity stood and stepped forward as Oliver shifted their bags onto the porch. “Thank you for everything, Tommy. It was great to meet you.” He bussed her cheek and then smiled down at her. “See ya around, I’m sure.” She felt her brow contract in confusion but didn’t ask him to clarify since Oliver was back and the two of them were busy hugging and back slapping their goodbye. “Don’t be a stranger, yeah? And say hi to your folks for me.” “Will do. Thanks, Tommy.” “Any time, brother.” Felicity groaned under her breath when she got into the damned stick shift car but started it on the first try all the same. Oliver looked impressed. The ride out of the suburbs was mostly silent save for Oliver’s directions. He was a good navigator and seemed to know the city’s layout well. Felicity tried to imagine dropping him at the curb and driving on to the airport, never to see him again. She took a deep breath in through her nose and out her mouth before making her decision. “Is there, um, a rental car return near the train station?” ————————————————————————————————– Felicity waited with the bags and people watched while Oliver bought the tickets. The train station was certainly an interesting place. He was running a hand through his hair as he returned, but she didn’t know him well enough yet to figure out if that meant bad news was coming with him. “Did you get tickets?” “Yep. It’s boarding now, we should hurry.” “Is everything okay?” “What? Oh, sure. It’s fine. It has its own bathroom, which is nice.” “It?” There was a pregnant pause as Oliver grabbed the handle of his suitcase but wouldn’t meet her eye. “It,” he repeated. “They only had one bedroom compartment left. It has two beds,” he added quickly, already wincing at her potential explosion. Felicity could only shake her head. “This is like bad fan fiction,” she muttered to the air. She trailed him through the station, watching him check the train ticket and follow the overhead signs to their platform. The closer they got to their destination the more crowded it became; other travelers jostled them as they moved either to or away from the waiting trains. And then Oliver was glancing back at her and reaching a hand out to grab her and pull her closer, not allowing them to get separated. Felicity stuck close, one hand on her suitcase handle and the other held protectively inside his, her mind a blank as she tried to process this new development. His broad shoulders made a great shield, preventing her from being bumped or stepped on as they negotiated the crowd on their way to the correct platform. She could smell him from this range, a mix of an understated cologne—or maybe deodorant—and whatever detergent he used. He stopped suddenly and she face planted softly against his sleeve with a small “oof”. It made her want to giggle. “You okay?” “Fine,” she grinned, slightly loopy on his scent and the feel of his warm firm grip on her hand. “This is it.” She peeked out around his (very nice) bicep at the big silver train in front of them. Oliver looked back at her and winked. “Here we go.” ————————————————————————————————– Felicity realized she was staring as he lifted her suitcase up onto the shelf and made herself look away. If she didn’t get it together this was going to be two very long days. She smoothed a hand over her tightly cinched ponytail and sighed. “Well, what do you think?” The room had two twin sized bunks–the bottom of which converted to a couch during the day–and an upholstered armchair, a window, and a door to a minuscule bathroom. That was it. “It’s…small.” Like, a mobile prison you have to pay to stay in small, she added in her head. “We don’t have to spend all our time here, you know. There’s a dining car for meals, and an observation car. You can work on your presentation interview thing while you watch the world go by. You’ll love it. Trust me.” This was so not ideal, and she wanted to be mad, or at least annoyed, but she was finding she did trust him, dammit. “Do you prefer to be on top or bottom?” Felicity stiffened, her face going hot. “I beg your pardon?” Oliver huffed a laugh. “The bunks. Would you like the top or the bottom?” “Oh. Um.” She studied them in what she hoped was a thoughtful manner, though she was really just trying to stop blushing. Honestly, the idea of sleeping in the bottom bunk had always made her nervous. What if the person above suddenly fell through? Ugh. It gave her shivers. “Top,” she decided. Oliver nodded, apparently satisfied with that answer. “You hungry? Thirsty?” He looked so earnest  Felicity almost laughed. “I could eat,” she decided. “Lead the way.” The train started moving while they were walking down the hall; Felicity yelped as she lost her balance and Oliver shot an arm out to steady her. This time she was the one to reach for his hand and he took it immediately. They stayed that way until he ushered her in front of him at the entrance to the dining car and they were shown to their table. Felicity scooted into her side of the booth with an eye on the neighborhoods of Chicago sliding past the window as the train picked up speed on its way out of the city. Heading west. Heading home. The thought filled her with something other than anxiety for the first time since she realized a hurricane was bearing down on Gotham. “What?” Her head swiveled back to Oliver in surprise. “What, what?” “What has you smiling?” She shrugged and tried not to blush as the server handed them their menus. “Just excited, I guess. I’ve never traveled by train before, unless it was the subway. You seem like you have, though.” Oliver nodded without looking up from his menu but saved any further explanation until after they’d received their drinks and ordered lunch. When the server had moved on, he leaned his elbows on the table and gave her his full attention. “I’ve known Tommy for as long as I can remember. His family and mine were very close when we were growing up. But then his mother died when we were nine years old. His father—“ his eyes dropped to the table—“was never the same, after. When we were twelve he moved them to Chicago, so the next summer and every one after that my parents let me take the train—this route, actually—out to stay with them for a month.” “That’s why you know Chicago so well.” He flashed her a quick grin, but he was clearly revisiting the past. “They lived downtown back then, and Malcolm was not a vigilant parent. We had the run of the city from an early age.” He huffed a laugh. “Probably way too early, actually.” His soup and her salad showed up, so he paused his story to let them both take a few bites. “We picked the same college here in the Midwest so we could be roommates. It made my dad furious that I didn’t go to his alma mater, but…” He shrugged. “Se la vie?” “Exactly.” “When’s the last time you saw Tommy?” “Oh, we try to get together once or twice a year. We meet up to ski or travel when we get the chance. Europe, Southeast Asia, wherever.” “That’s pretty good though, considering.” She grinned, suddenly feeling flirty. “Do you still take the train?” He smiled too. “No. It’s been many years since I rode the train.” His eyes lifted to scan the space around him before settling back on her. “It’s nice to be back.” Their entrees arrived and they both focused on making a start before they resumed their conversation. “What about you? Where did you go for college?” he asked. “Boston. But I grew up in Las Vegas.” “Mmm, I love Vegas.” “Yeah? You wouldn’t say that if you lived there.” “Probably not, but that’s true of a lot of places.” He took another bite of his sandwich before he went on. “So how did you end up in Starling?” Felicity had been munching happily on her burger, but now her brow crinkled into a frown. “A job opportunity. Or at least that was the idea. Let’s just say it didn’t go as planned.” Oliver quirked a brow. “Hence the impending job interview?” “Sort of.” “I feel like I’m missing something.” Felicity sighed and set her burger down. “I thought I had my dream job lined up in Starling, so I moved across the country only to bomb my interview. Bomb isn’t the right word. I nuked it.” She paused to illustrate an explosion with her hands, complete with sound effects. Oliver winced in sympathy. “I’d already spent the money to move, so I had to stay and find something else. The job I got has been a soul-crushing experience, to say the least.” “That sucks. I’m sorry. But hopefully this interview on Friday will get you something better. Something you love.” Felicity turned her attention to the view out the window, but she wasn’t really seeing it. “Maybe,” she said finally. ————————————————————————————————– He hadn’t been exaggerating about her loving the observation car. It was crowded, but Oliver managed to find them two seats near the back and motioned for her to sit. The chairs were large and comfortable and swiveled so they could be turned toward the view out the windows. The windows themselves carried on up into the roof, which let in lots of sunlight and beautiful views of the clear blue sky. “Wow,” she managed finally. She’d brought her laptop but for several minutes only sat with it on her knees while she watched the scenery flying past. Oliver chuckled his agreement, leaning back in the neighboring chair and stretching out his legs to cross at the ankles. Felicity made herself look away to get some work done while Oliver drifted off to sleep, but she found herself glancing up to peek at him from time to time. Since they were headed the same direction as the sun it stayed almost directly overhead through the afternoon, making her deliciously warm and sleepy, and eventually she stopped fighting it and curled up in her seat, work temporarily abandoned, to nap. His head was tilted her direction when she woke; it was obvious he’d been watching her sleep. She blinked at him a couple of times, clearing the cobwebs from her brain, and the corners of his mouth lifted briefly. “I like train travel,” she decided quietly, making his smile come back. She sat up and stretched before collecting the laptop she’d abandoned at her feet. “Get much work done?” “Not much,” she admitted. “But I finished the research in Gotham, so now I just have to write it up. Shouldn’t take long.” “You get out to Gotham a lot?” He showed no sign of being eager to leave their spot so Felicity folded herself back into her chair and swiveled further to face him. “Hardly ever. I called in a favor with a friend at Wayne Enterprises and managed to get some time in their labs.” She made a motion with her hand. “On the down low.” Oliver’s eyebrows lifted. “Sneaking around behind Bruce Wayne’s back? Impressive.” “It’s worse than that.” She grinned. “My friend IS Bruce Wayne.” His brow contracted then, and Felicity felt a thrilling little shiver run up her spine: Oliver was clearly a bit jealous. The frown only lasted a second and then he readjusted to sit up straight. “So what are you working on?” Felicity fought the urge to glance over her shoulder before speaking. It had been her secret for so long; even Bruce didn’t know exactly what she was working on. The best policy, she decided as she opened her mouth, was to be as vague as possible. “It’s a bio stimulant implant the size of a microchip with a basically limitless battery that will hopefully help people with traumatic spinal injuries walk again.” They both realized what she’d said at the same time. Oliver’s brows shot up into his hairline; hers did too, but for an entirely different reason. “Frack,” she whispered under her breath. Oliver chuckled. “It’s okay, Felicity, your secret’s safe with me.” He shook his head in wonder. “That sounds amazing. Where did you say you went to college?” “I didn’t. MIT.” His expression of wonder didn’t change. “Well I don’t know what company you interviewed with, but they were crazy not to hire you.” Felicity rolled her eyes. “You had to be in that interview. Ugh.” “What was so bad about it?” He leaned forward and rubbed his hands together. “Run me through it. Break it down.” “What, like sports?” He grinned wickedly and she sighed. “I can’t believe you’re gonna Monday Morning Quarterback me.” Oliver laughed. “Only if you want.” He glanced up behind her head at something. “You thirsty? We could get a drink before dinner.” Felicity decided a little alcohol might help dull the pain from the memory and nodded. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to slip her arm through his as they strolled to the club car. ————————————————————————————————– “So. The interview.” Felicity scooped up her wine glass and took a healthy swallow to fortify herself just as their appetizer appeared at the table. He raised an eyebrow. “You promised.” “I did no such thing!” Oliver indicated she should get first dibs on the mozzarella sticks before dipping his head to make her look at him. Felicity rolled her eyes dramatically and huffed a beleaguered sigh. “Okay.” She said it around a mouthful of cheese, dropping the remainder of her first stick back onto her plate and wiping her hands. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He grinned in that way he had, close-mouthed and dimples showing, and she almost choked on her bite; her eyes bugged as she swallowed. “First of all, the power went out in my hotel the morning of the interview, so—“ she waved a hand around her head—“my hair was still wet when I got there. And I’m pretty sure there was shampoo in it.” He chuckled and she pointed a warning finger at him. “Don’t laugh.” “Sorry. Please continue.” “You may have noticed I tend to babble when I’m nervous.” “It has not escaped my attention.” She nodded agreement. “And one of the heads of the company, I’m talking a VIP, was conducting the interview.” Felicity took another bite. “This is a woman I’ve seen on the cover of tech magazines. Sitting across the table from me. In Louboutins so new I could smell them.” Again with the smirk. He was too much. “I have no idea what all I said to her during those fifteen minutes. I’m pretty sure I blacked out for some of it. To top it all off my tablet wouldn’t talk to their system, so my presentation wouldn’t run. I basically had to explain my bio stimulant idea in interpretive dance, which is not a good look for someone with multiple degrees in Computer Science.” Oliver groaned in sympathy but then leaned forward on his elbows. “All that sounds like purely bad luck. You weren’t incompetent, Felicity, just a—“ he waved a hand around before selecting his own mozzarella stick—“victim of circumstance. Did they give you any feedback afterward?” She nodded as she swallowed her bite. “They said it was my lack of experience, which I can’t fault. I was coming straight out of graduate school. The degree looks good, but it doesn’t make up for actual work in the trenches. I think if the interview itself had gone better I might’ve convinced them to overlook that and give me a chance.” “Well,” Oliver decided after a sip of beer, “it still doesn’t sound like you nuked it. And it seems like you have a second chance to show them what you can do.” His eyes flicked from the marinara dipping sauce up to her. “I assume that’s where you’re interviewing Friday?” Felicity squirmed under his gaze. “The interview is actually with my current employer. For a promotion.” Oliver studied her. “The soul-sucking one? Do you really want to do that?” “I’m not sure I have much of a choice.” She sighed and shook her head quickly, wanting to change the subject so she didn’t have to think about it. “I’ve never asked what you do for a living. What had you out in Gotham just before a hurricane?” Oliver took his time finishing his bite; stalling, she thought. “I work for my family’s company. I was out on the coast entertaining clients.” “Entertaining.” “Yes. You know, wine, women, and song. Stuff like that.” Felicity tried to keep a serious face but failed miserably. “Is that your only job? Entertaining?” She pulled her lips in to keep from laughing, but he caught her anyway and mock glared. “I have other roles. Ribbon cutting, check presentation. This particular one just happens to play into some of my strengths from college.” “I see. Did you major in Wine, Women, and Song?” The stern look he was giving her was ruined by the twinkle in his eye. He took a sip of beer and shrugged. “More or less.” Felicity focused on dunking her last stick in sauce. “Well, there are worse jobs, I suppose.” “Very true.” He paused. “But the older I get the more I wish they’d give me a chance to be more than a glorified party host.” They chewed in silence for a moment, sucked down into temporary melancholy over the current state of their careers. Oliver swallowed and caught her eye. “Another drink?” “God yes.” ————————————————————————————————– Amtrak, as it turned out, made a pretty good steak. It wasn’t exactly a candlelit dinner in an intimate setting, but there were linen tablecloths and real napkins. Also, the baked potatoes were huge. “I know I’ve said this five times already, but yum.” Felicity wiped her mouth and sighed in contentment. “Better than an airplane, then?” There was a gleam in his eye as he said it. “Better than an airplane.” Felicity smiled at him. This felt good. It felt right, crazy as it sounded, sharing a meal with this man she’d known less than 48 hours as they rolled across the country chasing the sunset. Of course, after two and a half glasses of wine everything felt right. She swayed gently in her seat but told herself it was the train and not the alcohol. Trains were sway-ee. “I don’t think that’s a word.” “What?” Oliver smiled at her, a kind of indulgent look that transformed his face and told her she was adorable, even when she couldn’t control her brain-to-mouth conduit. It crinkled the skin around his eyes and exposed his utterly fantastic cheekbones. He was— “You’ll give me a complex if you’re not careful,” he said softly, looking down and brushing a crumb from the tablecloth. “Wha—what?” He chuckled. “You’re thinking out loud again. It might be time to call it a night.” “Really?” Felicity pouted. “Wait til you sleep on a train. It’s fantastic. Very soothing.” “Are you going to sleep with me?” Oliver coughed. “Sorry, what?” Felicity felt her face turn red. Her filter—or whatever passed for it in her brain—was gone. Washed away in a sea of red wine. The Red Wine Sea. She giggled self-consciously. “I didn’t mean SLEEP with you. I meant sleep with you. Sleep, sleep. Not…the other thing.” He was already scooting out of the booth and reaching for her hand, but he was smiling. “I know what you meant, Felicity. You’re safe with me.” She was on her feet suddenly, and close to him. So close she had to tip her head back to look at him. He was tall. And looking deep into her eyes. “You know that, right?” Felicity swallowed. “Know what?” She’d lost the thread of this conversation, but she didn’t really care. Everything was fuzzy and nice and she felt like giggling again. Oliver turned away with her hand in his but she pulled against him, leaning back on her heels and making him stop and turn to look over his shoulder. “I want to do something first.” ————————————————————————————————– The sunset was just a faint pink line separating the sky from the earth by the time they stepped into the observation car. The lights were dimmed, and the car was practically empty. Above them, unencumbered out here by light pollution, the night sky had exploded with stars; Felicity gasped when she saw it. Her hand slipped down from his arm and their fingers entwined as they took in the view. “It’s…” “Remarkable,” he finished, but when she glanced over, Oliver was looking at her, not the stars. ————————————————————————————————– Felicity awoke slowly, feeling fuzzy and parched and a little achy. The sunlight peeking around the edges of the window shade let her know it was probably time to be up, but the constant movement of the train was so comforting, she was tempted to let it lull her back to sleep. Wait. Train? Her eyes popped back open and she stared at the ceiling as she tried to puzzle out why the hell she was on a train. Train. Oliver. Oliver! She peeked her head slowly over the side of the bed, but the room appeared to be empty. His bed had been slept in, at least. Felicity sighed and ran her fingers through her hair and then flung the covers off and set about getting out—down? She had no memory of getting UP—from bed. She moved slowly down the ladder; the last thing she needed on this trip was a visit to the ER. How that would even be accomplished from a moving train she had no idea. Did the ambulance have to match speed, racing alongside as they passed her across on a stretcher? That didn’t seem right. She stopped thinking about it because thinking made her head hurt. A cursory inspection told her she was unharmed and dressed in her pjs. Had she dressed herself or… Too much. Too much to think about. Felicity squeezed into the ridiculously tiny bathroom—it was like camping at 60 miles per hour—to take care of things and put her hair in a haphazard ponytail. Her suitcase was basically unreachable on its high shelf in her current condition, but Oliver’s denim jacket was laying over the arm of the chair, waiting to be worn. Calling out to her. Felicity slipped her arms into the giant sleeves and wiggled her feet into her shoes. She found him in the observation car, in the same seat he’d occupied the day before. He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, cradling a cup of coffee in both hands. Oliver looked up as she approached and smiled softly; he looked exhausted. She opened her mouth to say hi but her eyes raised to the view out the window first and all thoughts vanished: sunrise over the northern plains had turned the world into a canvas of light and texture that, even hungover, she wanted to drink in. “Oh…” “Pretty cool, huh?” “It’s…” “I know.” The tone of his voice finally brought her around. Felicity dropped her gaze to his face and tried to process the way he was looking at her. Oliver waved to the empty chair next to him and she tucked herself up into it. When his eyes skimmed over the jacket she blushed. “Couldn’t get my suitcase down,” she explained. “It’s okay. Looks good on you.” She was swimming in it, so probably not, but it was sweet of him to say. He offered his coffee to her without comment, and any other day she would be sorely tempted, but her stomach flipped and she blanched and waved him off. Also, it appeared to be black; how someone could drink coffee with no cream or sugar or seasonal flavoring was beyond her. His mouth quirked into a brief smile. “A little rough this morning?” Felicity attempted a nod and immediately regretted it. “Mmhmm,” she offered instead. If she didn’t move her head, she could keep looking at the beautiful scenery without wanting to die. “What…exactly…happened last night? After the observation car?” Oliver took a sip of coffee. “I was wondering when you lost the thread.” His fingers rotated the paper cup as he spoke. “After the observation car you talked me into going back to the club car where you had one more drink and then sang karaoke for an hour.” Felicity cringed. “I didn’t know they even had karaoke on trains.” “They don’t.” Her eyes tracked slowly to him; he was expressionless except for an amused twinkle in his eye. “Oh.” “Yeah.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I am…SO sorry.” Oliver chuckled. “It’s okay. It was cute. The bartender was pretty good at harmonizing. You made a good team.” “Oh. God.” “Hey. Look at me.” She cracked open the eye closest to him. “It’s okay, Felicity. I didn’t mind taking care of you.” “Really?” “Really.” He stood and offered her his hand. “Ready to go get your suitcase down?” She unfolded from the seat and let him stabilize her as they moved through the car. “I still have questions.” “Shoot.” “How did I get into my pjs?” “You did that.” “And into bed?” “Well, I did that. You gave it a good try first, though.” “Oh God, Oliver.” He chuckled as he held the door for her. “You were adorable. Even the conductor thought so.” ————————————————————————————————– Felicity’s stomach rallied in time for lunch and then she climbed—unassisted—back into her bunk and fired up her laptop. She finished her presentation while Oliver napped below her; she would pause every few minutes to listen for his soft snores, and once she leaned out over the edge to look at him. He’d confessed over their meal that he’d feared she’d fall out of bed in the middle of the night and break her neck, so he’d hardly slept. He claimed she’d vehemently opposed the idea of sleeping on the bottom bunk when he suggested it, which had eventually brought the conductor down to check on all the commotion. She blushed fiercely every time she thought about it. Oliver stirred and sat up just as she saved her finished presentation and shut down her computer. “C’mon,” he said softly. “Let’s take a walk.” They grabbed a soda in the club car and wandered back to the observation car. The view out the windows had changed to oil fields and miles and miles of freight cars. Felicity jumped in surprise the first time a train passed them going the other direction at sixty miles an hour and they both laughed. Dinner was quiet; neither of them drank. They found little reason for small talk, preferring to say everything necessary with just looks and smiles. Every time Felicity thought of their arrival in Starling City the following morning she got an achy feeling in her chest, like the end of something precious was approaching. They sat up late in the club car and didn’t return to their compartment until almost midnight. Oliver waited in the hallway to give her privacy so she could get ready and tucked into her bunk before going to bed himself. They lay in the dark for several minutes before Felicity spoke up. “Oliver?” “Yeah?” “I have a confession.” “Okay.” “The presentation isn’t for my interview Friday. I don’t work at some fancy company. I work at a Tech Village. It was the only job I could find. I’m interviewing for a promotion to Assistant Manager.” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “The research on the implant is, well…I spent my entire savings on the plane ticket to Gotham just to prove to myself that my idea isn’t crazy. That I’m not actually a failure. I…I just thought you should know.” “Felicity, I think your idea is brilliant. And I think you should approach that first company and ask for another chance to prove yourself. You owe it to yourself to find out if things could be different.” She nodded into the dark but didn’t dare try to answer; a tear crept down her cheek. Below her Oliver sighed. “I have a confession too.” “‘Kay.” She sniffed discreetly. “I didn’t lose my driver’s license in Gotham. Not the way you think, anyway. The night before we met, I was entertaining clients, like I said, but things got out of hand and I ended up getting arrested. I spent several hours in the city jail and had my license revoked. As soon as we get to Starling, I have to come clean to my family and go to court and probably do community service.” He sighed into the dark and she turned over, tempted to climb down the ladder and give him a hug. “I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t tell you.” “Thank you,” she whispered, though it didn’t seem adequate for the way she felt. “You’re the one who deserves the thanks. I went to that airport having no idea how I would get home. If it wasn’t for you, I’d probably still be in Gotham somewhere, riding out a hurricane.” “Well I couldn’t have escaped without your credit card and your crash course in manual transmissions. No pun intended.” She heard him huff a laugh. “So really I should be thanking you.” “I guess we made a pretty good team.” She smiled into the dark. “Yeah, I guess so.” “Good night, Felicity.” “Night.” Far off in the distance, the mournful shriek of the train whistle announced their arrival at another crossing. ————————————————————————————————– Oliver Queen sat at his desk and stared out the window at the building across the street. The woman who had the office opposite him kept a variety of plants in the window and was giving them their daily drink of water. “Oliver? Your mother would like to see you.” “Okay. Thanks.” He ran a hand through his hair and grabbed his suit jacket. It was only four floors; he took the stairs. It had been exactly one week since he had parted from Felicity at the Starling City train station with a handshake. A handshake, for God’s sake, when what he’d really wanted to do was kiss her. He’d wanted to kiss her for days by that point, but at the last second he was afraid of ruining the bond they’d begun to form the second she demanded he teach her how to drive a stick. The memory made him shake his head as he flipped a wave to his mother’s EA and pushed through the glass door into her office. “Oliver, I want you to sit in on the interview I have in a few minutes.” “Okay. Any particular reason?” Moira Queen rolled her eyes without actually changing expression. It was one of her superpowers. “You’ve asked for more responsibility, so I’m giving it to you. I want your input on this potential new hire.” She passed him on her way out the door he was holding open. “Research and Development doesn’t really have an opening at the moment, but this person comes with a rather special referral letter.” “From who?” She glanced back at her son with a knowing smile. “Bruce Wayne.” Oliver groaned. The head of HR and a representative from R&D were already seated at the conference table when they took their seats. Oliver smoothed his tie, only half listening as his mother exchanged pleasantries. “Here we go again, eh?” the HR VP was saying. Moira pretended to fix her perfect hairdo. “Well it can’t be any worse than last time. I never did figure out what she was trying to say about my shoes. I assume it was an attempt at a compliment, though who could tell?” They both chuckled. “If what you’ve said about this idea of hers is legitimate,” the R&D rep put in, “I don’t care how awkward she is. A bio stimulant implant to reverse paralysis? That could be a game changer.” Oliver became very focused on the conversation going on around him. He sat forward and loosened his tie, suddenly warm. “But she has no experience,” his mother was saying. “Can we be sure the work is even hers?” “Mom…” “Exactly my point. Her resume says she currently works at…Tech Village.” “Mom, I…” Moira gestured through the glass at her EA, the signal to send in their victim. Oliver stood up. “Mom, I need to speak to you. Now.” She frowned at him. “Oliver, what—“ “Outside. Please.” She sighed elegantly and rose to follow him out into the hall opposite the one occupied by the EA. Damn Queen Consolidated’s glass offices; Oliver grabbed his mother’s elbow and gently steered her further away from the fishbowl of a conference room. “What is it, Oliver? I have a lot of appointments today—“ “Mom, the person you’re about to interview. I know it didn’t go well the last time, but I’m telling you, she’s the real deal. Felicity’s brilliant, and she learns so fast it’ll make your head spin. She has amazing ideas, and she’s funny, and kind, and you have to give her a second chance. You won’t regret it, I promise.” Moira searched her son’s face, confused. “Oliver, you know this young woman?” “Yes. She deserves this chance. Please.” She studied him a moment longer. “I’ll…I’ll keep your recommendation in mind. But right now we’re keeping her waiting.” He squeezed her elbow when she tried to turn away. “Mom, I—I can’t be in the interview.” She raised an eyebrow and waited. “It would be a conflict of interest.” “Oh, Oliver.” She sighed and gave him the look she usually reserved for Robert Queen. “No, it’s not like that. She’s a friend. I traveled cross country with her last week to get away from that hurricane. She learned to drive a stick in under ten minutes in an airport parking lot and then drove us twelve hours to Tommy’s, and…” He sighed. “I can’t.” Moira extracted her arm gently from his grip and smoothed a hand over his sleeve. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll let you know how it goes.” “Thanks. And mom?” She turned to look over her shoulder and Oliver gave her a brief grin. “Be nice.” ————————————————————————————————– ONE YEAR LATER “Here ya go. I got you the big bottle, just in case.” “Ungh. Thanks.” Felicity fiddled with the cap ineffectually until he grabbed it back and opened it for her. Oliver watched her take a swig before popping a pill. She chased it with more water and wiped her mouth. She was sweating; actual beads of sweat were forming on her forehead. He laid the back of his hand there to check for fever. “I’m okay. I’ll be okay. This is fine. I’m fine.” “You don’t look fine, Felicity. Is this—“ “Normal?” She swiped the back of her hand across her mouth again. “Unfortunately, yes.” A flight attendant passed them with an eye out for seatbelt violators and Felicity handed him back the water bottle so she could check hers for the fifteenth time. “How come you never told me you were afraid to fly?” Oliver prodded gently, still stunned by what he’d witnessed over the previous twenty minutes. “Six months ago, when I insisted we drive seventeen hours to Las Vegas to visit my mother, I thought that would be a clue.” “I figured you just wanted a road trip.” She shook her head quickly and moaned as the plane shifted back from the gate. “Nope.” She closed the shade over her window quickly. “You’re sure there isn’t a train we could take this time?” That surprised a laugh out of him. “There is, in fact, no train that will get us all the way to Hawaii, Felicity.” Oliver clicked his tongue in sympathy and took her hand. “I wish you’d said something, honey. We could’ve picked somewhere closer for a honeymoon.” “No way. I’ve always wanted to go to Hawaii. This will be fun. As soon as the pills kick in.” Oliver was still trying to process. “The day we met. At the airport. You…you’d flown out from Starling and were trying to get back…” Felicity smiled for the first time in hours, though it was strained. “The pills work, I’m telling you.” “And until then?” “Until then…oh God.” The plane began accelerating toward take off. “Felicity, look at me.” He waited until she opened her eyes. “It’s going to be fine. I love you.” And then he leaned toward her and captured her lips with his own. She melted against him as the world dropped away.

[mrs-berry]

Like the Sun

Read on AO3!

Summary: Marinette asks Chat Noir a question she really should not have asked. Chat Noir is ecstatic to give her more of an answer than she wanted, which leads to some regret and a major mistake... (Inspired by this post!)

Word Count: 2366

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It was an ordinary evening, just like any other. Chat Noir had come to visit his favourite civilian on her rooftop balcony, which was dimly lit with fairy lights.

The pair sipped on hot chocolate as they leaned over the railing and gazed at the beautiful view before them. The sun had begun its journey to the horizon, leaving a stunning array of oranges and reds amongst the sky.

Marinette set down her mug on the table behind her, rubbing her hands together to gather warmth from the slightly cool air.

"I'm probably going to regret asking this," Marinette mumbled to herself, but Chat's keen ears picked up on it anyway. "But why did you fall for Ladybug?"

Chat Noir's jaw dropped open in shock and he stared bug-eyed at her as if it was dumbest question he had ever heard. Which, in his mind, it just might be.

He put his hand to his chest as if the question personally offended him.

Then, a silky smooth cheshire grin slowly overtook his initial expression.

Now, he looked like the cat that got the cream.

Marinette was already regretting her question.

"Marinette. Princess. Mousinette. My little lady. Heh. I'm so glad you asked— even if the answer should be blindingly obvious," he spoke with a smug grin and air of total confidence. "Ladybug is amazing."

He paused dramatically, giving her time to brace herself for the holy reasons that only she would have the privilege of hearing. During his silence, he set down his mug as he would need both hands for his impassioned gesturing.

"... That's it?" she asked, clearly unimpressed.

Chat burst into laughter, the thought of that being all there was to say was completely laughable and insane. He loved Marinette, but she sure could be silly sometimes!

Wiping away the tears that had sprung to his eyes, he shook his head emphatically and put his hands across his chest in a big "X" to indicate she was totally wrong.

"No, you didn't let me finish—haha—my impatient princess," he finally managed to say as his laughter subsided.

"Well, you stopped talking, what else was I supposed to think?" she said, a wry grin on her face. He may have been laughing at her, but she still enjoyed hearing his laughter. It felt good. It felt free.

"I was pawsing to build up the anticipation—the excitement," he stated as if it should have been obvious, throwing out his hands as if measuring said excitement.

Marinette rolled her eyes.

"Well, purrdon me then. Carry on," she encouraged, bowing and gesturing that he had the floor now.

Chat beamed, glowing at her usage of a pun and her dramatics that mirrored his own. He was really rubbing off on her and it brought him immense glee.

"Well, where do I even begin? There's just so much! The first thing that made me realize she was amazing was when she threw me into the clutches of Stoneheart's fist. I thought she was crazy, but it turned out she was brilliant—a creative genius!" Chat gushed, relishing in the wonderful memory of their first battle together.

Marinette covered her mouth, kind of surprised he not only remembered it, but that he remembered it fondly. She also felt a bit embarrassed to hear him calling her a genius. He really did like to exaggerate and be all theatrical.

"It didn't take me long to fall for her. But the actual moment I knew I loved her—I'm talking head-over-heels in love—was when she stood up to Hawk Moth when she first met him. She made her declaration that we would find him and take his Miraculous and then she proceeded to capture and purify an enormous amount of Akumas. After that, she promised to all of Paris that we would protect everyone and keep them safe. It was the coolest speech I ever witnessed and I know I'm not doing it justice, but it was incredibly impressive and awe-inspiring. She was just... so badass and I'm lucky I got to witness it firsthand. I'm even luckier that I have the honour—nay, the privilege—of being her partner. I seriously love that girl..." he trailed off with a lovestruck expression and his hands clasped to his chest in pure adoration as he stared off into space, remembering the moment she stole his heart.

Marinette couldn't stop the liquid hot warmth that spread through her cheeks, her accelerated heart pumping blood throughout her body at ridiculous speeds.

His moment... it kind of reminded her of her moment with Adrien. Like her, Chat was able to pinpoint the moment his heart no longer belonged to himself; the moment the lightning had struck. She had that same moment on a stormy school day, outside with a new student who gave her a terrible first impression but spun things around so fast, she fell so hard and couldn't stop herself.

But with Chat, there was no specific moment she could pinpoint falling for him.

Wait.

She shook her head. That was a strange thought, seeing as she hadn't fallen for him.

Right?

"Anyway, that's just the beginning. There's so many more moments and things about her I love," he continued, complete oblivious to Marinette's inner dilemma and flustered state due to his own reminiscing.

"O-oh yeah, like what?" Marinette struggled to ask in a normal voice. She felt like she was in a sauna with how warm she had gotten.

Maybe she was getting sick?

(Of course! That would explain her delirious thoughts.)

"Milady is incredibly witty. No one else I know can banter with me like she does."

"Oof, I'm hurt," Marinette teased, having recovered slightly from her abnormal thoughts after chalking them up to her being unwell, and not actually offended due to obvious reasons (that is, her being Ladybug).

"Sorry, Marimouse, it's true you have sharp wit, too. Actually, thinking about it, you would probably give Ladybug a run for her money. I'd love to see you two go against each other in a battle of wits," he said, eyes alight at the idea.

"Eep!" Marinette squeaked, tugging at her sleeve nervously. "Uh, I bet she would win that. Haha."

Not that that can ever happen, she thought.

"Hmm, purrhaps. Anywho, back to my 101 reasons for catching the lovebug for my LoveBug," he sighed in bliss, his thoughts once again drifting to the girl of his dreams.

Marinette rolled her eyes again, trying to resist the blush that threatened to return. Her kitty was so silly.

Yet so cute.

Wait, what? Marinette mentally swatted away the totally uncalled-for thought.

"Ladybug can take the most hopeless and grim situation and turn it around. Her Lucky Charms are obscure, yet she always figures them out. She always manages to come up with a plan and I love how quirky they often end up being. It's exhilarating waiting to see what surprising ideas she'll come up with!"

"So... basically, you like her because she is crazy and weird?" Marinette asked, not really realizing what was so great about that.

"That's not how I see it. She's creative and unexpected. She makes things fun and exciting. She keeps me on my toes," he corrected her.

"O-okay. Well, is that it?" Marinette asked, kind of hoping that was all. She wasn't sure how much more praise she could handle.

"Not even close!" he retorted, as if shocked she could even harbor such a ridiculous thought. "Ladybug is a great leader. She takes responsibility, makes snap decisions, delegates tasks, and successfully executes her plans to thwart Hawk Moth. She trusts her instincts—and her instincts are good. She's a great problem solver. She really has a great mind and laser-sharp focus. She truly cares about Paris and her teammates. She is a good person, through and through," he listed with ease.

Marinette was speechless and felt a bit dizzy. She knew her partner liked her, but it never really sunk in how much and how highly he thought of her.

Marinette turned her face away. He was painting her way more highly than he should.

"Doesn't she ever make mistakes? Doesn't she ever get on your nerves?" Marinette asked. Surely, he recognized she had flaws as well.

"Of course she makes mistakes, she's still human even with the superpowers. But she does her best to fix them. Sometimes I wish she would rely on me and the others a little more than she does, but she's strongly independent. Still, when it really matters, she has always found the solution or gotten the help she needs. She's always been able to overcome whatever obstacles or mistakes she's made and come out stronger for it. Ladybug's resilient like that," he answered, still clearly filled with love for her.

Marinette didn't know what to say, so she just bit her lip and waited for him to continue.

"As for getting on my nerves? Sure, we've had our fights. Usually it's because she's stubborn about her responsibilities, so I can't really fault her for that. For example, I hated feeling left out about some things and I told her as much. I could tell she wasn't withholding information to hurt me, though. And shortly after telling her my feelings, she managed to convince one of our... 'teammates' that I should also be in the know regarding some matters. So she had taken my feelings seriously and I appreciate it. And when I was upset with her for not showing up that night—the one where I set up all the candles for her—she explained and apologized to me later after we fought Glaciator. Ladybug always has good reasons for doing what she does. She never intentionally hurts me or gets mad at me," Chat explained, a fond smile on his lips.

He was too good, too pure.

Marinette struggled to remain composed at how understanding he was. She hadn't fully realized before just how thoughtful her kitty was.

"Anyway, I love Ladybug. I love her for her strengths and how amazing she is, but I also love her for her flaws and how human she is. Everyone else probably just sees her as a responsible superhero—and she is—but I get to see her as so much more. I trust her with my life and with my heart," he confessed lovingly. Then sorrowfully added, "Even though she doesn't feel the same way."

Marinette felt her heart twist and put a comforting hand on his back. Even though he didn't know it, it was Marinette that had put that sad expression on him.

"You know, to me, Ladybug is like the sun," Chat admitted, his face suddenly brightening again.

Marinette raised an eyebrow at the change in subject, curious as to how he came to that conclusion.

"Her smile shines brilliantly," he began.

She couldn't stop the smile that spread. She quickly self-consciously covered her mouth, as she waited for him to continue.

"She's strong, mentally and physically," he continued. Then, with a chuckle, he said proudly, "She can lift and throw me like I'm the weight of a feather."

Marinette giggled at that, as well.

"She can give some good burns, with her sharp comebacks. I would know, as I've experience first-degree burns from her," he laughed again.

Marinette laughed too. He was very witty himself. Though he was usually too nice to "burn" her.

"She's impossible to miss. Rather than saying she lights up a room, I guess you could say she lights up any area she leaps into," he said with awe, gesturing widely with his hands.

Marinette shyly played with one of her pigtails. He was just exaggerating again, surely.

"She's warm and caring, she obviously loves Paris very much and I'm sure all of Paris can feel her warmth."

Paris wasn't the only thing feeling warm, Marinette thought as she began feeling like she had stepped back into that sauna again.

"She is needed and very important. Like the plants need the sun to grow, Paris needs her to survive and thrive," he spoke with sincerity, as he truly meant it.

Marinette was pretty sure she was going to combust any moment. She wasn't sure she could actually handle any more.

"Her mind is bright—blindingly so. I have never met anyone else quite as clever as her," he stated. Then he turned to Marinette with a wink, "Then again, I seem to know a few clever people. You're also one of them, of course. Again, you could pawsibly be competition for LB in that regard."

Marinette was about to protest again, but he spoke up before she had the chance.

"I cannot spend all my time with her. Just like the sun sets, she too must leave after a battle. But my heart is assured that she will reappear. Just like the sun rises, Ladybug will return when Paris needs her again. Though I wish it were more often." A bittersweet sigh escaped his lips.

Marinette just stared at him in wonder at this point, mouth agape and cheeks flushed.

"And, finally, I'd happily let my life revolve around her if she'd let me. Just like the planets revolve around the sun, which is centered in the solar system, I'd love her to be the centre of my life." He raised a hand to his heart as he gazed at the setting sun.

Then, Chat turned his whole body towards Marinette. He was looking at her with unconditional love in his eyes—the look he so frequently showed to Ladybug.

The look of pure love and adoration.

Oh.

And on instinct, without any coherent or logical thought, Marinette lurched forward, grasping his cheeks, pulling him down toward her, closed her eyes and kissed him point blank on the lips.

Chat froze in shock, eyes wide and pupils dilated.

Before he could even properly react, it was over.

Her lips suddenly felt cold from the sudden onset then absence of warm, soft lips. It took a moment for her to process what had just happened; what she had just initiated.

Oh god, what had she just done?

[lady-grae]

My Laughter, All For You

Prologue

Word Count: 1,710 words

Warnings: N/A

I have been working on this for the past week, trying to perfect it as much as possible. Honestly, I’m really proud of myself because this is the most I’ve ever written for a topic that is not considered educational in nature. I almost wish I could have this energy every time I write essays for classes. Anyway, I hope whoever reads this likes it! Enjoy!

Sadie sat in front of her vanity, deep in thought. In front of her sat a letter, worn from constant folding and unfolding. I should’ve kept my mouth shut that night, she thought as, for the countless time, she unfolded it once again to read its contents. Some of the ink had been smudged by her fingers, but she could still recognize the immaculate writing of her brother Lewis. 

Dear Sadie, it started:

A little birdie told me that you were thinking about moving to Gotham, possibly alone. What were you even thinking?! You know our mother would never rest comfortably if something were to happen to you! God knows that she would never let me hear the end of it.

I may have an idea that would work out for all parties: why don’t you come work at my toy company for a while? We may not be as famous as the Wayne family, but we’re slowly making a name for ourselves. Plus, I know you would enjoy working with all the children at events. Trust me on this, I don’t see how this couldn’t work out!

I know our cousin Rebecca has been looking for a roommate after her last living situation ended in a disaster (I still don’t know what happened, but maybe she’ll tell you). She’ll be so excited to have you around, you two always got along well when we were kids. I’ll be waiting for your response; don’t keep me waiting too long.

Your Big Brother, 

Lewis

P.S. If you don’t reply back within the week, I’ll just assume you’re staying home. Maybe it would be better that way. I don’t want to be keeping track of you constantly.

“Eugh,” Sadie groaned at that last part, and thumped her head down on the vanity. “I love you Lewis, but sometimes you can be a real ass.” She tossed the letter aside and stood up from the vanity. She walked over to the window, brushing aside the curtains. Outside, the towering skyscrapers and sooty grey sky of Gotham coldly greeted her.

Gotham. A cruel city filled with cruel people who, if given the chance, would quite literally throw someone under the subway train to get ahead. A city where a beating or mugging took place down nearly every alleyway, even during the day. At the moment a steady rain was falling from the sky, coating everything it touched in a dirty wet sheen. In the street three stories below, Sadie saw the flashing lights of a police car rush by, most likely on way to another murder.

Sadie hadn’t really wanted to move here; drunk one night with a friend, she had concocted a half-assed plan to move out of the house. But of course, word spread quickly among her social circle, and before she could do any damage control her brother had caught wind of it. When he had sent his letter, she had almost ignored his offer. If he couldn’t even bother to discuss this with her in person, why should she answer him? Besides, she had wanted to chart her own course in the world. But she needed money for that, and after recently completing graduate school with zero future job prospects, she knew she could not pass up the opportunity. So now, a few weeks later, here she was, living with their lovable and hyper cousin Rebecca.

A rapid knocking at the bedroom door made Sadie jump back from the window. “Come on, Sadie, we wouldn’t want to be late for your first real night here in Gotham!” a voice called from the other side.

“Just a minute!” Sadie answered back. Rebecca: now she was made for the hustle and bustle of Gotham. Sadie honestly did not know where she got all her energy from; it was so hard to keep her in one place for very long. Yet she could not deny Becca’s energy was at times contagious.

Sadie gave herself a quick glance over in the mirror. She ran her fingers through her wavy chin length dark auburn hair, noting it was just a little curlier than usual. The eyeliner around her hazel blue eyes was also a little smudged, but it would have to do. It would probably be wiped away by the end of the night anyway.

She looked down at the letter one last time. I hope I made the right choice in coming here, she thought. I guess I’ll just have to see what’s in store for me out there. She grabbed her pea coat from off the bed and left for a night on the town.

--------

Already out in the rainy Gotham night, Arthur Fleck slowly trudged along, his head hanging low. He had had another long, hard day at work; Randall had been nonstop in his teasing, driving Arthur to more than one uncontrollable laughing fit. And to make matters worse, some teenage boys at his job site had mocked his dancing, pushing him around a few times before finally growing bored and walking away. Try as he might to keep a happy face on after that, he wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and disappear.

As he continued walking home, Arthur kept his head down, both to avoid the rain and the eyes of strangers, and smoked another cigarette. The sidewalks were mostly empty, and the few people who were out brushed past him, their nights just as eventful as their days. One man bumped shoulders with him, even though he clearly had plenty of room to walk around. “Watch it, buddy,” the man growled, giving Arthur a menacing look. Arthur picked up his pace, slumping as far as he comfortably could into himself.

Suddenly, as he was nearing a street corner, he saw a blur rush by him: a young woman, dressed for a night of partying. “Come on! You better catch up!” she called back, laughing breathlessly as she continued running. He turned his head to briefly watch her pass; big mistake, for he heard a second pair a footsteps approaching fast.

“Becca, wait up!” another woman yelled. “Don’t-OOF!” As he rounded the corner, Arthur didn’t have enough time to step aside as the second young woman ran head on into him. They both fell to the ground, his cigarette flying into the air and her purse falling behind him. The wind firmly knocked out of him, Arthur managed to pull himself up on his elbows as the young woman did the same. 

Arthur glanced worriedly at her, waiting for the screaming and kicking to begin, the profanities to be hurled his way. A few small laughs left his mouth as his nerves started to get the best of him.

“Oh my goodness, are you okay?!” the woman asked him, her voice filled with-genuine concern? His head whipped up fast, his eyes catching hers and the laughter dying in his throat as shock filled his body. He noticed she had blue eyes and wavy dark hair surrounding her face. She didn’t look angry with him, but actually worried.

--------

Sadie pulled herself up from the ground, still holding the eyes of the man in front of her. He had beautiful green eyes and brown hair damp from the rain. He actually looked scared of her, like she might do or say something horrible to him. She held out her hand to him. “Here, let me help you,” she said, smiling down at him. 

He looked at her hand for several moments, and she was almost afraid he would say no when he hesitantly reached out and grabbed it. She helped pull him on his feet; he seemed to weigh almost nothing, and she noticed he was very slender. They were still looking at each other, each trying to feel the other out for signs of anger.

The man cleared his throat and nodded, looking away. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he answered in a quiet, scratchy voice. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” He laughed nervously, then started coughing, throwing his hand up to his mouth and turning away from her. 

“No, it was my fault,” Sadie protested. “I was the one running.” He still seemed to be fighting between laughing and coughing; strange, but not freaky. Perhaps he was just shaken from the fall.

Just then she realized she was no longer holding onto her bag. “Oh shit, my bag,” she said, turning around in a circle where she stood. When she turned back, she saw that he had bent down and was picking up her bag, which had somehow fallen behind him.

“Here, miss,” he said, holding it out to her. He glanced up and smiled at her sheepishly. He seemed to have stopped coughing/laughing.

“Oh thank you so much,” she said, being careful not to grab it from him too sharply. 

“It’s not a problem,” he replied, rocking back on his feet, putting his hands behind his back.

“Sadie!” Becca screamed. Sadie saw her running back up the street towards them.

“I’ve got to go,” Sadie said to him. “Please be safe going home, sir.” She smiled one last time at him before walking to meet Becca.

“You too,” she heard him say softly as he also quickly turned to walk away.

“Oh my god, was that guy bothering you?” Becca asked her, worry and anger lacing her voice.

“No, it was my fault,” Sadie looked back one more time to see his hunched figure moving around the corner. “Let’s go. And no running this time, please. I’m tired.” She linked arms with Becca as they resumed, walking this time, to their destination.

--------

Arthur sighed in relief; he had at least managed to keep his nerves from fully getting the best of him. He hated his laughing episodes and how they made people stare at him, especially in front of women like her-Sadie. He recalled how she had actually been kind to him, unlike majority of the people in this city. Unfortunately, he knew that he would most definitely never see her again. Shaking himself off from the memories of her lovely face, he continued walking home, not realizing how far from the truth he really was.

[jungwoohoos]

uni!hoseok

genre: fluff

word count: 2.2k

he really does look like linguini when he dances, but you guess you can’t resist that

You weren’t a party virgin per se

There was that one time the second weekend of first year that you went out with your roommate

She had met someone the night before and said he would give you two an in

How did she get someone’s number so quickly?? You didn’t understand

You once asked for someone’s email instead because the thought of asking for someone’s number was so personal

Your project group got a little annoyed that they had to email you everything they had already discussed in the group chat

But you always made sure to use the cute emojis that look like blobs of honey, so everything was good and your members didn’t annihilate you in the evaluation reports

Anyway, you lasted 20 minutes max at that party

It was a house party, but everyone was milling around in the backyard, which was nearly pitch black and really patchy

You could barely see your feet, so you had no idea how anyone could see who they were talking to

Everyone was also wearing hawaiian shirts

“Oooohhhhhh, it’s a hawaiian themed party,” your roommate had whispered while looking at your all black outfit

As if black jeans don’t exist in Hawaii >:(

She started talking to the guy she had met the night before, and it was getting a little steamy if you could say so yourself

You should take lessons because she was playing in the big leagues

Subtle touch on his arm

Laughing at everything he was saying

Although that one must’ve been a hard one to pull off because there’s only so much you could laugh about when a drunk dude’s retelling how much pain he was in when he thought his appendicitis was someone in an invisibility cloak stabbing him with an invisible knife

You had only come with your roommate, and she was busy trying to get with Chad over there

So you played on your phone a bit

Walked around the backyard, which was the size of a ping pong table, and got some fresh air

There was only so much bush you could look at at 11:30 pm

So you caught your roommate’s eyes (which were wandering suspiciously south)

And motioned that you were going to head out

And to text you if she was coming back

Because the way she was working her magic on Brad, the question was more of an “if” than a “when”

You walked through the sprinkler on your way back to your room, and that was the most fun part of the night by far

Two years later, you can proudly say you never stepped foot into another party

Because being in your bed nice and clean was your kind of party

Not the kind where you’re sweating not because you’re moving

But from sheer proximity to other sweaty bodies

So when Namjoon invited you to a small gathering he was having, you didn’t hesitate to say yes

You had met Namjoon earlier that semester in your botany class

The one that you both realized you only took because you had binge watched the same video of a guy grooming his garden full of bonsai plants

Trimming and landscaping and rearranging the formation of the pebbles surrounding the base

43:11 minutes of pure heaven

He squealed when you brought up BlissfulBonsai81 because yEs YES someone who understands

You’re at a coffee shop doing some work when he brings it up

Scrape of chair legs

The warm smell of cinnamon that wafts up to your nose when he hands you your drink

“Soooo since BlissfulBonsai81 mentioned in his last video that true happiness comes from celebration of small moments”

This man is his role model

“I’m gonna have a small gathering so we can celebrate the end of midterms woooo!!”

You haven’t met Namjoon’s other friends yet, but from what he’s mentioned, they seem fun

Hoseok seems a little wild though

But you trust Namjoon, and it’ll be nice to have some fun after the onslaught of exams

So you tell him you’ll go

“But only if there’s sweet and spicy sriracha wings”

“Small gathering” my ass

If Namjoon weren’t being a sweetheart and helping Youngchul in the bathroom, he would’ve been getting a piece of your mind

Your last exam was today

And to say that it burned you out would be a major understatement

Two hours of fluid dynamics and stupid pipes being smooth or rough and turbulent substances

You’ll show Namjoon turbulent when you’ve gotten your much deserved 12 hours of sleep

Even now, after the party’s died down a bit, there are at least 30 people

You couldn’t even walk up the stairs to use the bathroom without bumping into four couples making out

One was Jungkook and his new girlfriend, who he apparently officially met on an intramural volleyball team

He gave you a wave and a wink when you turned around to apologize for bumping into him

His girlfriend also smiled and gave a little wave

Probably the cutest couple you could’ve stumbled upon sucking faces

It’s nearing midnight, and you’re starting to feel the day catch up to you

The bass was a little too loud thrumming through your head

The cup you had barely touched was beginning to make your hand cramp

And that guy was still dancing

You’re half delirious and half inexperienced, but you’re pretty sure there’s no dancing at house parties

Not counting the disturbing bump and grinds happening off beat

But this guy’s been dancing for the last two hours

And you don’t know how he’s made it this far because he’s wearing jeans and a long sleeve

They make him look even more like the inflatable guys outside of car dealerships

He’s really not a bad dancer

Definitely has the flexibility for it if you can go off his limbs flying everywhere

And that huge smile’s been on his face the whole time, even though any sane person wouldn’t be smiling if they were wearing the insulator his clothes are

Any sane person also wouldn’t be doing the sprinkler to Kendrick Lamar

You’re still looking at him over the rim of your cup when you hear a small sigh next to you

Namjoon plucks the cup from your cup and downs it

“I’m never holding a party again” he groans and lets his head fall back onto the couch

You’re about to be a little sassy and correct him with “small gathering”, but he sat up when he saw you looking at the dancing noodle

“Ohh! You haven’t met Hobi hyung. Let me introduce you!!”

You’re being pulled straight off the couch and toward the middle of the room before you could blink

Oh he’s taller than you thought

“Hyung, hyung” 

Namjoon has to cup his armpit and squeeze to get his attention

There’s a squeal and Hobi turns around

He makes a little tsk sound when he sees Joon

“Eh, Joon. You know I hate when you do that”

He sees you looking at him

You look like you could use a good hibernation

He can’t help but smile when you go to shake his hand but yawn instead

Your nose scrunched up and you covered your mouth with the hand you were about to use to shake his

Namjoon’s rambling about something you two have in common

“You guys both like hot cheetos!! You can talk about that”

But you two are sizing each other up silently

He seems like too much energy, too much pep for your liking 

You literally just watched this guy flail for 2 hours

You don’t think you like him

He likes how you’re not afraid to make eye contact with him

You also smell like citrus, which smells like heaven compared to the overwhelming scent of dried beer and sweat

He likes you

Namjoon doesn’t know it because he’s still listing topics you could talk about

“...music? No, songs with tambourine accents are kinda niche...politics??”

You leave a little after that because your roommate got locked out while she was doing laundry, and she’s in her underwear

Hobi gives you a wink, and you narrow your eyes

He pops up a lot in the next few weeks

Sometimes just to call your name and shoot you a wink

But other times to ask how your day was and see if you want to get milkshakes

You don’t want to admit it, but you kind of enjoy spending time with him

You have to tell him to lower his voice numerous times because he ends up shouting

A problem in the library

And he likes listening, so he asks you to just talk a lot of the times

Which puts you in a weird position because you shouldn’t want to talk to someone you find loud and annoying right?

But you find yourself smiling when you hear his voice

And having to pretend to be grumpy when he interrupts your study sessions because he was bored

He’s nothing you thought you would like, but everything that made you happy

News started spreading that you and Hobi were hanging out because Hobi was beloved on campus

Even the janitors got excited to talk to him

Not many people knew who you were because you tended to keep to yourself

You were sitting on a bench one day, eating some carrots

Decapitating more like it

You were pissed

You missed your presentation this morning because your alarm didn’t go off

Professor Lee wouldn’t let you make it up even when you started crying

You were crying so much that you slipped down the stairs

Your butt now had a stair shaped bruise on it

And now you had to get ready for Namjoon’s birthday party because your present had taken 3 weeks to come in and you weren’t about to give it to him the day after his birthday

Which is why 2 hours later, you’re drunk

It only took one “what’s this pee colored drink??” 

You’re in the bathroom, trying to figure out how to turn on the sink

For some reason, the knobs won’t turn to either side

Maybe it’s automatic? You wave your hands underneath the spout but still no water

You didn’t hear the knock on the door

You didn’t even know it had opened and someone had walked in until you feel a solid body bounce against yours 

Hands caught your waist before you could topple over, and you let out a small “oof” when the momentum stopped and you bounced back against their chest

Mmmmmmm smells like freshly baked muffins

You fisted your hands into the fabric in front of you and buried your nose deeper

“Having fun there?”

“Mmmeppaph” you mumbled, moving your hands around to their back and letting your nose trace its way into the crook of their neck

Hobi hoped you couldn’t feel how quickly his heart was beating

Because it was about to bust out of his chest and if you hum against his neck one more ti--

“Hmmmmm”

You couldn’t help yourself because they were so warm and smelled so nice and made a really nice bed and huh, you were a little tired weren’t you

He felt your body give until you were slumped against him

The only thing that was keeping you upright was his hands on your waist

And your hands which have somehow dropped into his waistband

He shuffled out of the bathroom as carefully as possible

Your head lolled and hit the frame of the door before he could catch it, but you just gave a little huff

Only two more doors 

He fumbled with your body before he freed one hand to open his door

Laid you gently onto his bed

He thanked god that he washed his boxers that were laying on there earlier today

Brought a blanket and tucked you in

He couldn’t help himself from rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip because he doesn’t have the courage to do it when you’re awake

He’s never seen you asleep before, but he likes how peaceful you look

You’re not rolling your eyes at him or shooing him away

It makes it a little easier to imagine that you could like him

He initially doesn’t hear that you’re mumbling because it’s so quiet

And the blanket’s kinda in your mouth

He moves it away so he can hear you

It still takes you a couple times before you’re coherent

“Mmmmm can I tell you a secret?”

He smiles because the only secret you told him was that his socks smell like the plague

“Of course”

You shift so that you’re curled around him, your hand resting on his thigh

“I like Hobi, but don tell him ‘cause I don think he thinks I’m cute, even though I ammmmm”

He thinks his heart exploded when he saw you push your lower lip out

“And he’s too nice and good for me, but I’m shellfish and wanna be happy, and he makes me so so so so happy”

You blanched when he recited your words over breakfast and painkillers the next morning

He knew you were going to try to deny everything when you went to open your mouth

So he reached over the counter and cupped your cheek

“Be shellfish and let yourself be happy, okay? Because that makes me happy”

“Oh and by the way, very very cute”

You hum when you taste the syrup on his lips

[kpoptionate]

skz reaction: s/o pecking their lips in front of the members

stray kids masterlist // official masterlist

07.16.18

genre: fluff

requested: your-brookey

a/n: thanks for requesting babesss <3 i'm sorry if they sound a little similar, but i hope you enjoy it overall :) ______________________________

woojin ♡

you were sitting on the bed beside your boyfriend as he played a couple of tunes on his guitar, warming up before wanting to sing you a song he had been working on. as he finally started to play, his cheeks slightly pink from his shyness, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him - you were completely mesmerized by his voice. he looked you in the eyes as he sang the last lines of the song, and the two of you stared at each other for a moment before you giggled and quickly leaned forward to give him a quick peck on the lips. all was good until the two of you heard an “aw, how cute” from the doorway where there were eight ! boys standing there with admiration in their eyes and their phones in their hands, seemingly recording the whole time you two were together, woojin sputtering embarrassed apologies for his members’ behavior.

“aish, guys, can’t you just leave us alone for once? i’m sorry, y/n...”

i shouldn’t be this excited for finding a gif that matches the scenario ooF

chan ♡

chan had asked that you stayed for dinner with skz at their dorm, so that’s what you were doing. you offered to help cook since there were so many people to feed, but he insisted you didn’t need to since woojin was already with him and somebody needed to make sure the rest of the kids didn’t get too out of hand. when the two oldest came back with two plates of dinner, everyone froze and dropped what they were holding. the dorm was a complete w r e c k. chan looked at you like “wtf did i tell you i gave you one job” and you innocently skipped up to him and smiled widely, giving him a sheepish grin before standing on your tip-toes to place your lips against his, taking the plate he was holding and setting it down on the small table. his lips turned upwards into a proud smirk as he walked to sit down beside you, the boys pleased that they had finally seen their leader get kissed by their boyfriend/girlfriend.

“you know, y/n, if you ever wanna do that again, my lips are always open for business...”

minho ♡

one day, as you came to visit the guys in the practice room, minho begged you to let him show the guys a dance the two of you had been working on. you said sure, not thinking much of it since you guys had learned a few, but you would have said no had you known he was going to play the song to the dance y’al had been working on - one that was sorta kindaaa intimate? you were of course hesitant at first, but eventually gave in as the two of you performed in front of the members (cue woojin trying to cover jeongin’s eyes to preserve purity). towards the bridge of the song, minho playfully wiggled his eyebrows, as this was the part where you were supposed to kiss him! being the excited baby he is, he had told the guys this when you first started dancing, so they were pretty excited as well to finally see you guys kiss. shy as you are, however, you only gave him a quick peck and blushed through the rest of the dance, at the end hiding behind him to conceal your embarrassment, running with the frustrated groans of eight young men. minho, on the other hand, was confidently showing off to his members that they could hold in their frustration and wait for another time.

“y’all can’t say anything, at least i’m actually getting some!...”

changbin ♡

we all know that this boy is a cuddler™, so when you’re hanging out at the dorms with him and the other guys in the living room, that’s obv what you’re doing. you felt as if something was off, though, because usually changbin would give you little kisses when you cuddled ?? like was he mad at you ? did you do something wrong ? when you turn your head to face him and ask what’s the matter, everybody’s eyes immediately shift from their phones to the two of you. not knowing what you’re talking about, changbin shakes his head with a small look of confusion, asking why you asked. all you gave him was a slightly high-pitched “oh” before pecking his lips and turning back to your phone as if nothing happened. the guys, however...not so much. mouths practically dropped to the floor, they gush at changbin’s flushed state as he tries to hid his face in the crook of your neck, whispering something in your ear and smiling like an idiot before popping back up with a straight face (still pretty red, tho) and going back to his phone. gotta keep up the dark concept™, y’know?

“y/n, don’t do that in front of the guys, you’re gonna ruin my image...”

hyunjin ♡

the two of you were just trying to have a nice, quiet evening without the guys interrupting you. it was going pretty well - you guys were eating chinese takeout on the floor, giggling because of something hyunjin said, and you were about to kiss him when bam! the door busts open and in pours eight obnoxious teenagers (most of them anyway). they stop when they see the two of you on the floor eyeing them with death glares, but do they leave? no! these asshats sit with y’all and start eating your food! what a bummer. tired of the guys antics, you lean in and give hyunjin the kiss that was meant for earlier before standing up and motioning for him to follow you to his room, away from everyone. the guys absolutely flip their shit, hollering with food in their mouths. hyunjin was blushing since you had never done that in front of the guys before, but he didn’t let them see his reaction as he just walked away, flipping them off from behind his back.

“they really are annoying...but now that we’re alone again, i think you can do a little better than just a peck...”

jisung ♡

this dude probably has like a seashell collection or somethin tbh, but he didn’t want to look dumb with a pile of shells on his desk so he asked you to help him make it look aesthetic. his shells are dumb though (half of them are just rocks but you don’t have the heart to tell him), so you and him set out on a walk to the beach to collect some nicer ones. the boys, of course, tag along. when the sun finally sets and everyone’s a little tired from playing around all day, you were pretty proud of the work you had done with jisung. putting everything in a bag so you could fill a mason jar later, jisung was more than excited that you had helped him. he pulled you into a warm hug while your feet were in the cold water, and once he pulled away he got all giddy like a little kid over his shells. you couldn’t help but gush over how cute he was, so you kissed his lips before taking his hand and walking out of the water. the rest of the members were “oh”ing from behind, splashing water on jisung as you lead him away from the seaside.

“you’re sweet for picking out my shells, but...do you think you could kiss me one more time?”

felix ♡

you and the guys were all in your apartment quietly watching a movie (or at least the majority of you, jisung wouldn’t shut the hell up), snuggled against felix with his arm around your shoulder. the two of you had been going out for a whole month and neither of you had the guts to do anything more than a kiss on the cheek or forehead, so felix couldn’t help but tease you a little bit when a kiss scene came on the screen. “why don’t you ever kiss me like that? i don’t think you’ve even kissed me at all...” he faked a pout and a couple of the guys let out an “aw” (so sad alexa play despacito) when all of a sudden! you just kiss him! on the lips! and turn back to the movie like it was nothing. felix was taken abAck, he didn’t expect you to do that in front of the guys. nevertheless, you did, and his face was red as a tomato as he pressed his lips together, trying to hide a smile. but there was no way he was gonna let you embarrass him in front of the guys! he decided to grow a pair and stop being shy by cupping your cheeks with his hands and giving you a full kiss ! in front of everyone ! after a moment he pulled away, and the two of you sat there facing forward with the biggest grins on your faces, ignoring the guys’ excited screams. now who’s shy, y/n?

"you can’t win against me, y/n, especially in front of the guys, you should know this by now...”

seungmin ♡

aww, it’s the baby’s birthday ! you and the guys wanted to throw him a surprise party, but with everyone at jyp, not just skz, so somehow you convinced jyp to let everyone take a day off so you could have a big party! seungmin isn’t the kind to like this kind of thing probably but since it’s with his faves it’s alright :). anyway, later that night as all the groups were in the room, seungmin had got up to thank everyone for coming, and he mentioned you in his little speech for being sweet and organizing everything. when he was done talking and everyone was in their little conversations, you just smiled at him and quickly kissed him on the lips before spreading out to chatter - not just in front of the members, but all of jyp! wow! this boy could not have been more embarrassed, hiding his face and giggling behind his hands, as everyone in the room let out “aw”s and “cute!”s since the two of you are! so! small! and! adorable! nevertheless he was happy that you were comfortable enough with him to do something like that in front of so many people.

“aish, y/n, why do you always have to embarass me like that? especially in front of so many people...not that i didn’t like it though...”

jeongin ♡

this boy !!!!! you and the guys were just sitting on the practice floor chilling for a few hours since there was nothing else really to do. it started getting late and you needed to go back home, so after you got up and got your stuff you walked over to jeongin, telling you that you’ll see him later before pecking his lips and walking away. the guys of course started squealing and freaking out, screaming and hitting each other like fangirls. poor baby jeongin was a blushing mess, he couldn’t stop grinning like a child as he got on his knees and bowed down, trying to hide his face from his friends. as you closed the door, he let out a high-pitched scream and started giggling like crazy.

“aww, little jeongin’s all grown up now !!”

feel free to send in any requests, asks, comments, i don’t mind, i’ll answer anything :)

[sheyshen]

I mentioned the singing thing the other day, and well, ended up writing something today! hope you all like it. It’s been a while since I got to write something so it was nice to do.

    Ossus was hard fought and hard won. And Kara was more than grateful to be back home on Odessen with her family. It had been days since she had seen them in person, and she missed them all dearly. Striding through the quiet halls of the base, she made her way to the quarters she shared with Theron and Arcann. It was late and she was exhausted, and while knowing that the men she loved were likely asleep, that didn’t sway her from choosing to return now rather than wait til the morning and stay in her quarters on her ship instead.

    She figured what better way to surprise them than to show up in the middle of the night like this, ready to just wrap herself up in the blankets, comfortable in their embraces. The thought brought a smile to her face as she made her way through the war room, returning Teeseven’s jubilant beeps of greeting before heading straight down the hall to her quarters.

   HK-51 still stood guard in front of her door, the droid giving her a once over before opening the door for her without saying a word. Before she entered the room she could hear the sound of singing, the low rumble clearly marking the voice as Arcann’s.

    Entering the room she quietly made her way to the bed where she found him with Connor asleep on his chest. Theron leaned on his shoulder with Caleb in between them, both her husband and son fast asleep as well, with a datapad gripped tight in Caleb’s hands.

    “And Scyva-” Arcann stopped mid lyric as he noticed Kara enter, a smile spreading across his face. He tried to escape the bed without waking either Theron or the boys, but stopped when Kara gestured for him to stay put and quickly made her way to the bed. Settling back down he opted to greet her quietly. “Welcome home.”

    She seated herself on the bed next to him, kissing him gently and brushing the hair out of Connor’s face. “It’s good to be home.” She smiled at him, chuckling, “I hope they weren’t too much trouble while I was gone.”

    He shrugged his left shoulder in reply, trying to avoid jostling Theron. “Theron was working as much as usual, and the boys were the same as always.”

    She placed her hand on her chest in mock shock, “Nobody was worried about me being away all by my lonesome?” She grinned before continuing “I’m glad they were alright. Thank you.” She kicked off her boots before pushing herself to her feet to change into some pajamas, opting to swipe one of Theron’s shirts for the night. “So. You were singing.”

    “Yes.”

    “I didn’t know you could sing.” She climbed onto the bed, cuddling up to him and letting him pull her close with his left arm.

    “I don’t sing often. But Connor couldn’t sleep. I thought one of the songs mother used to sing might help. and..”

    “You ended up trapped under everyone instead.” She finished, earning a chuckle from the scarred prince.

Theron groaning as he woke made them pause, the spy’s eyes opening slowly at first before snapping the rest of the way open when he saw his wife. “Kara.” He said a little too loudly. “Welc-”

    His voice woke the remaining two who immediately sat up and turned to look at their mother before quickly latching onto her loudly and incoherently welcoming her home as her lovers took a chance to stretch now that they were free of the boy’s grasps. After they had settled enough and gotten their own returned greetings from Kara, she crawled over to settle herself in between her lovers, kissing Theron lovingly and returning his unfinished welcome home. She let out a quiet ‘oof’ when her sons took their chance to lay on her, squeezing themself in as best they could.

    Turning her attention to Arcann she spoke up again. “You don’t need to stop singing on my account.” She grinned at him.

    He shook his head, settling in next to her, Theron following suit. Once comfortable he replied. “I could be persuaded to continue.”

    Theron barked a laugh. “I don’t think now’s a good time for ‘persuasions’ Arcann.”

    He shot a look at Theron, “That’s not what I meant.” the spy returned the look before humming in disbelief.

    Kara laughed. “Well, I don’t know any Zakuulan music, but I can sing some of the ones that I learned from my dad or from the people around the cove. I promise, no shanties.” She smirked.

    “I know a few too,” Theron added, “I’m not the best, but I’ll embarrass myself for you guys.”

    Arcann sighed. “If you’re that insistant, I will.”

    “I like your singing papa.” Connor piped in, grinning tiredly. Caleb was already starting to doze off, but gave his own agreement on the matter.

    “Looks like we have the majority.” Kara leaned over to kiss him on the cheek before pulling up the blankets so her sons were tucked in nice and cosy as they fought to stay awake just a little longer.

    Defeated, Arcann agreed. “I suppose so.” He took a breath, thinking before starting to sing. The words weren’t anything that Kara could recognize, it was spoken in Zakuulan, but the names were ones that she recognized, Izax, Scyva, Aivela, the Gods that his people worshipped. Connor tiredly tried to sing along, but they came out in a mumble. Either due to him drifting off to sleep or due to the words being in a language he didn’t know, either way he still tried his best.

    Kara ran her fingers through her son’s hair, attempting to hum along when the chorus would repeat. The attempt becoming more and more difficult as she started drifting off to sleep as well. She could feel Theron settling in, his arm wrapping around to hold her close, careful not to squeeze Caleb. Arcann shifted to a new song, this one having words in basic mixed in, whether that was how it was meant to be sung or something the prince was doing to help them understand the meaning better, she wasn’t sure, but the sound of his voice was too soothing for her.

    Hearing him after spending so much time on Ossus fighting against the empire and their creations, she could already feel herself relaxing. He paused mid song to settle down in the bed, kissing her hair before continuing, his face close enough to her neck that she could feel the vibration from his voice. Connor squirmed in between them, finding a more comfortable spot and falling asleep once more quickly. Kara following soon after, enjoying this peaceful moment, her family falling asleep to the sound of his voice in the quiet of their home.

[talechaser-ffxiv]

Have you ever been harassed/stalked by a mun? How did you handle it?

Oof we’re starting with the hardest one so... get comfy. I’d put this under a cut but mobile won’t let me. What’s worse is there’s technically two muns (and the second was worse than this), but I won’t count the second one since they don’t RP much it at all. Neither of them is on tumblr to my knowledge but I’ll be avoiding naming them outright either way.

A couple years ago, @thedarkestdragonknight (referred to as Tox from now on) and I helped to create an rp group. It was small, mostly a well-knit circle of friends, and that’s more or less when and how we got closest. Tox wasn’t as good with people as she is now, and I was often playing therapist as well as helping to coach her and realize why some behaviors weren’t okay (which is really weird to say, but she’ll be the first to admit that she wasn’t very good at interacting or handling stress). But in that group we had one really close friend—for the sake of clarity we’ll call them X—who we trusted and spent a lot of time with. We let X get close, and even take part in some private, really dark RPs that I did with Tox for catharsis reasons to deal with my PTSD. Eventually X ended up developing a crush on me, but I turned them down gently because I wasn’t up to dating anyone and had just gotten out of an abusive relationship anyways. They handled it gracefully enough and things continued as normal, with the three of us being close and X wanting to be especially close with me.

That was 2012. Now we skip to 2013. Here’s where the heavy stuff begins, and I apologize if anything upsetting comes up. I’ll actually be cutting a lot of the trauma out.

On New Year’s Day, I was greeted with the news that my uncle had died. It was... very bad. I let the group know and went about my business, went to the funeral, and all that. The day I came back from the viewing and signed into the group, X immediately began hounding me with questions about why I wasn’t rping, despite at least one other person telling them not to. I explained over and over that my uncle had just passed away and I wasn’t up to rping, and eventually they let it drop. Fast forwards few months: my little sister came back with a diagnosis of two types of cancer. Again I let the group know (after all these were my friends, I wanted comfort and reassurance that I wasn’t about to lose my sister). Again, X decides to harass me about not rping. Again, people had told them to leave me alone.

After a while I ended up having to leave the group due to personal reasons, as did Tox. Things blew up when X decided to create a creature to replace Tox’s, but the design was uncomfortably different. Neither of us said a thing, but one of her friends spoke up in her defense, trying to ask X to credit Tox as the original creator. Suddenly I’m seeing messages from friends accusing Tox of setting her friend up to this, so I signed into the group, ultimately pulling two friends aside to explain that I was worried that the public fighting would get the group shut down. Apparently X used that argument to say that I was trying to get them shut down, and my two friends apparently ended up in a lot of hot water over it.

X had apparently been spreading rumors about me behind my back while I was in the group because I wasn’t rping with them, and since I was being quiet and withdrawn because of all the trauma I was dealing with (and keep in mind I’ve only mentioned two events), people believed it because they didn’t see proof otherwise. To make matters worse, X told people about those private RPs I did, just to laugh at me about it. Needless to say, I was mortified when I found that out.

Move forward to 2014. Here’s where we get to the “what I did about it”.

X wants to rp with a friend of ours who left the group and sided with me and Tox in all the drama. He tells X they have to ask me for permission (it was a private three-man rp group, consisting of Tox, me, and Awesome Friend). X comes to ask, and I say yes, and decide to let it be water under the bridge. Gradually I start getting in touch with everyone who cut me out before, and I connect them to Tox too. Of course, having a full time job and just before receiving my autism diagnosis again, I wasn’t rping as much as X wanted, and that confrontational behavior came out again.

I copied every argument. In full. I hid nothing, except one instance where X had a health scare and I decided to be courteous and redact it for the sake of not being an asshole. And I would show it to our mutual friends and ask where I went wrong.

This time, everyone sided with me. They saw the evidence for themselves, and they told off X whenever they lied or bragged about it. When X complained about me sharing our conversations, they called X out on sharing my secrets just to laugh at me about it, which was much different from me providing proof to defend myself.

I rejoined the group (which ended up closing a few months later), and despite me doing my best not to interact other than to be polite when necessary, X ended up abandoning their account with a lengthy callout post about what terribly people we were, and to this day there’s a notice on their abandoned account of what shit people Tox and I are.

This ordeal is actually why Tox and I have a lot of issues with rping and have panic attacks about sharing details about our characters at times. This rp community has been one of the best, but the ordeal was traumatizing (and Tox has been through even worse than me; given the story I just told, that should tell you something). That said, we’ve had a lot of time to heal and lots of amazing people to help us heal, so we’re doing better now. However, this is also a major reason I despise callout posts. No one deserves to have everyone turn on them, especially when people don’t necessarily know what the truth is. An entire circle of friends abandoned us because one nasty person decided that I should suffer because I wasn’t spending enough time with them... they bought into the lies and forgot (or ignored) about the things we had been going through. It was a horrible experience and I hope to never experience it again.

Munday Storytime!

[sp4c3-0ddity]

life saver

oof instead of working on my major-est WIP (sitting pretty at past 30k words now yay) i ended up pursuing an older idea based on a quibble i have with fandom...and something that happened early in season six. featuring pining Pidge...and pining Lance, though perhaps not the one you want. ~2000 words. enjoy?? <3

Tiny, sharp claws digging into her scalp woke Pidge.

At first the sensation drifted into her dream, of someone scratching her head and running fingers through her hair. But the nails grew more insistent, the feeling uncomfortable, so she jerked her head.

And jolted awake, swiping at her head to rid herself of the itching.

Her hand collided with something soft and squeaky.

“I’m sorry!” Pidge said, all traces of sleep vanishing in her alarm. She sat up and found the pink mouse - Chuchule, she thought - smoothing the fur on its head and glaring at her indignantly.

“Why the quiznak did you think I’d want a head massage in my sleep?” she wondered, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow at the mouse.

The tip of Chuchule’s tail twitched, and without acknowledging her question, it climbed down from her bed and skittered halfway to the door before pausing and looking back at her.

(Pidge nearly lost sight of Chuchule in all the junk scattered across her floor.)

“What?” She tilted her head, as if that would help her decipher the mouse’s purpose. “If you want food, Hunk’s the one you should bother.”

A different mouse - small and blue, perhaps Chulatt - emerged from underneath a discarded shirt, dragging something behind it. Behind it were the other two mice carrying a…Gameflux controller between them.

“Did you…drag that all the way here from Lance’s room?” Pidge asked suspiciously.

In reply, all four mice took hold of the controller’s cord in their tiny paws and brought it to their tiny jaws, poised beneath their tiny fangs.

Her heart jumped into her throat, and she lurched from her bed and dove for them. “Hey, don’t you dare!” she said, grabbing the controller and snatching the cord from their grips.

Three mice let go, but Chulatt, smaller and more insistent, dangled from the end by its paws as Pidge gathered the cord. She pulled it up to look Chulatt in the eye and narrowed her own. “What mischief has Allura put you up to?” she demanded.

Chulatt nibbled on the coating.

“What sort of demon rabbit are you?” Pidge shrieked, taking the mouse and gently tugging it off the cord.

It sat in her hand and blinked slowly at her.

Pidge rolled her eyes and squatted, lowering her hand so Chulatt could hop off. Then, to her surprise, all four mice convened, exchanging quick glances, and fled her room by climbing the fairy lights hanging over her bed and skittering into an air duct.

They left Pidge with a slightly damaged Gameflux controller sans console in her hand.

“Guess I should take this to Lance’s room,” she grumbled, winding the cord around the controller.

She knew it wasn’t a good idea - that maybe she should save this unimportant task for later - but if she didn’t do it now the controller would just be another piece of detritus covering her bedroom floor.

After changing into her clothes, Pidge left her room and padded down the hallway to Lance’s door. A part of her hoped he wouldn’t be there - she and Hunk had work to do and Lance would undoubtedly distract her either with a game or by dragging her to Kaltenecker’s enclosure - but a smile pushed at her lips anyway, anticipation hastening her.

She half-expected no answer when she knocked on the door, holding her breath and waiting for a reply. When she received none, she swallowed her disappointment and tried again; if he didn’t answer she’d just go in, return the controller to its place with the Gameflux, and leave.

“Not now, Hunk!” someone called from inside.

“It’s…me,” Pidge said lamely, wringing the controller cord in one hand while shifting her feet.

She flinched at the sound of a crash from inside, followed by a groan that put her on edge and had her reaching for the panel to open the door.

“Lance, are you—” The door slid open, and Pidge pulled up short, her gaze falling on Lance, sprawled on the floor with his legs tangled in his bedsheets. “Uh…what happened to you?”

Lance propped himself up on his elbows and shot her a glare. “Intrusion of privacy much, Pidge?”

She crossed her arms. “It sounded like you hurt yourself, but it seems the only thing you injured is your ego.”

He rolled his eyes and sat up, disentangling his legs from the sheets and rubbing the back of his head with a grimace. “Oh, ha ha, Pidge,” he mumbled.

“What were you doing?” Pidge wondered, scanning the room for anything unusual.

Lance was fully dressed, so that ruled out sleeping in (though not a nap), but it sounded like Hunk came by earlier and—

Something sparkling caught her attention, peeking out from underneath Lance’s sheets. Pidge crept closer to investigate, ignoring his cry of dismay, and twitched the blanket aside.

A necklace strung with translucent blue crystal beads that glittered in the light greeted her.

Her heart sank, reaching some conclusion faster than her mind could, but she broke the awkward silence with, “You make jewelry?”

“Uh…” Lance flushed red as he stood and snatched the necklace, hiding it behind his back. He cleared his throat and said, “I do now.”

Pidge raised an eyebrow at him. “For…?”

Lance grabbed his jacket from its hook on the wall and dropped the necklace into a pocket. “None of your business,” he muttered, refusing to meet her eyes.

But she knew.

The realization made her chest tighten, a lump lodging in her throat, and she swallowed and said, “I-I didn’t think you felt that strongly about Allura.”

“Okay, time for you to leave,” Lance said, pressing his hands to her shoulders and nudging her towards the open door.

Like every time he touched her, Pidge was torn between wanting to shove him off or pull him closer, but she stood her ground and said, “Wait—”

“Nope!” Lance insisted, pushing her with a little more force. “You’re just going to make fun of me like last time and—”

“I’m not,” Pidge protested. “I…” She bit her lip, taking in the frown and embarrassed flush in his cheeks, and admitted, “Maybe Hunk and I were a little…harsh.”

“Oh, only a little,” Lance retorted. But he dropped his arms and stepped away from her. “You needed something?”

“Not…really.” She offered him the Gameflux controller - which she’d nearly forgotten at the sight of the handmade necklace - and said, “This got into my room somehow”—thanks to the mice likely as not—”and the cord’s a bit…chewed.” She held up the damaged part of the cord for Lance to see.

To her relief, Lance smiled as he took the controller. “Why would they do that?” he wondered. “They’re not really…”

“Into vandalism?” Pidge suggested with an answering smile of her own.

“Yeah!” Lance laughed, then said, “Hey, while you’re here, you want to help me with the dungeon I’m stuck on?”

Pidge fidgeted with the hem of her sweater, torn between responsibility and…Lance. It was the Garrison all over again, but she no longer had her missing family tugging her in the opposite direction.

So this time she chose Lance.

Lance slumped in dejection as “Game Over” flashed across the screen. “Guess that dragon’s nastier than you thought,” he said.

Pidge snorted and held her hand out for the controller. “You just weren’t listening to me.”

Lance’s eyes narrowed as they landed on her outstretched hand. “If you think I’m letting you take over—”

Pidge sighed and snatched the controller from his hands. She ignored his indignant cry, instead focusing on the screen as the last save point appeared. “Look, it’s really not that hard,” she explained as she moved her avatar - or, well, Lance’s avatar - through the level. “So long as you keep your shield up - even if it slows you down - it’ll take more for an enemy to kill you.”

“Eh.” Lance shrugged, propping his knee on his leg and resting his chin in the palm of his hand. “I guess dying in video game beats dying for real.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Pidge replied snidely. “A lot of things beat dying for real.”

“What about eating food goo for every meal for the rest of your life?”

Pidge bit her lip, fighting the smile that rose to her lips almost without her permission. “Depends on how many meals I have left?” she said, laughing and nudging Lance in the side. When he didn’t respond beyond a noncommittal hum, she glanced sideways at him.

He frowned and said, “That’s…not really funny, Pidge.”

“You mentioned it first,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Right…”

“Okay!” Pidge said brightly. She paused the game, set the controller aside, and turned to face him with her hands resting on her ankles. “What the quiznak is eating at you?”

Lance had the audacity to feign nonchalance. He shrugged and pointed at the screen. “I can’t beat that—”

“To hell with the stupid game, Lance!” Pidge said, flailing her arms to resist the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. “What is going—”

“I thought she might like me, okay?”

Pidge’s jaws clicked shut, startled by the admission. “O-oh,” she said, something like numbness spreading through her. “She d-doesn’t,” she pointed out reluctantly, rubbing the back of her neck. “She’s obviously into—”

“I know that now, Pidge,” Lance snapped, leaning forward and scowling at the screen. “I just thought, after she basically resurrected me—”

“Wait, what?” She gaped at him, but the fool just kept talking:

“I mean, first I pushed her out of the way, but Red and I got hit instead and it killed me - I think - so somewhere between dying and living again I fooled myself into thinking she felt the same as I did.” He sighed, eyes unfocused as a frown that screamed lovesick crossed his face.

(Why did her own lips twist to match?)

But she blinked, startled by the torrent of words. “That was kind of…” Pidge cleared her throat. “When the quiznak did you die?”

Lance’s cheeks colored as he rubbed the back of his neck. “When Sendak attacked last,” he said.

“Oh,” Pidge said. “I—why didn’t you say anything?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t stay dead, right?”

“Right…but that might’ve been important.” Pidge smirked. “Also, you never miss a chance to brag, so receiving a, uh, did she revive you with CPR?”

Lance laughed without much humor. “No, she just used her weird magic powers,” he explained. “But it was enough.”

“I see, but…” Pidge rested her hand on his arm and wondered, “Why would her resurrecting you make you think that she…likes you too?”

“Because it was a moment, Pidge,” Lance grumbled, his face falling again. “We had a moment, and she did save my life. That’s pretty romantic, right?”

Pidge’s eyes widened, and a giggle escaped her. When he tossed her a reproachful glare, she said, “Lance, saving your life isn’t proof that she likes you like that.”

“I guess not…”

“If it was, you’d be in love with Coran!” Pidge covered her mouth to muffle her laughter, but her next thought sobered her immediately, her heart sinking at another ill-timed realization. “Quiznak, y-you’d be in love with me.”

Her tone wavered as the words left her mouth, and her next few breaths shook her.

Was that why irritation burrowed under her skin if he so much as expressed interest in another girl in front of her? Was this why it suddenly hurt just to breathe?

“Pidge?” Lance’s low voice pulled her from her spiraling thoughts, and when her eyes snapped up to meet his, he frowned and asked, “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Pidge said. She shook her head and tore her gaze away, returning it to the screen still waiting to resume game play. “I just spaced out.”

“Something eating at you?” Lance said with a slight smirk.

“There wasn’t,” she said carefully, reaching for the controller.

“Well, if you say so,” Lance said, sounding skeptical, but to her relief he didn’t press her. Instead he added, “I guess you’re right though.”

“I often am,” Pidge quipped. She toggled through the pause screen options, playing with the joystick. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

Lance rolled his eyes, then muttered, “You’re right about saving people not meaning…that.”

“Sure…” She peeked at him from the corner of her eye, frowning when she took in his downcast features. “Lance, I didn’t mean—”

“I’ll get over it, Pidge,” he said. He leaned back against his bed, his fingers drumming on his legs, and smiled. “I survived death, so what’s a little crush?”

Too much, Pidge thought when his shoulder brushed hers and heat rose to her face. But she smiled at him - in what she hoped was a reassuring manner - and agreed, “Nothing at all. In fact, it’s easier to beat than this dungeon.”

She only wished the words didn’t taste like a lie.