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doctenwho · 3 years ago

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Hangovers, Love and Space Vodka (PE Pt. 2)

Hello! Requests are definitely open, even if I’m awfully slow! I feel bad at how slow these are coming out especially since there’s so many in waiting, but writing just hasn’t been on the table recently. Apologies for that!

But I’ve found the time and the motivation, so I decided to get this done! Thank you for your patience! This is such a cute idea, and it always makes me happy that people like the first parts enough to request a continuation. I had a lot of fun writing it, so I hope you readers like it too!

So, please enjoy the continuation of Purest Expression (also, you should probably read that one if you haven’t already, this fic heavily references it!) Also, I just thought the name was funny and I was in desperate need for one, so feel free to suggest others if you’ve got one!

Warnings: Talk of alcohol, but no drinking!

Word Count: 4,050

Summary: Check out the prompt above! :)

(Gif doesn’t belong to me, credit to the talented creator!)

You didn’t really remember a lot when you woke up. All you really knew was you'd drank far too much of that delicious cocktail, and that your brain was pounding in your head. This was quite possibly one of the worst hangovers you’d had, but honestly, you’d do it all over again to have another one of those space cocktails.

You rolled onto your back, lifting your hands to cover your eyes in an attempt to block out what little light managed to stream into the room. Your stomach churned at the movement, but it settled out easily enough after you didn’t move a muscle for a few minutes following your roll.

You relaxed back into the bed when your stomach settled down, and finally uncovered your eyes, staring up at the ceiling with a bleary gaze.

As you laid there, you tried to piece together the evening. The bits and pieces between arriving and having enough to drink that you could no longer walk a straight line.

You knew you’d gone out on the town with the Doctor—he'd been excited to show you things. He'd raved enthusiastically about the planet, and you’d listened along as your own excitement grew too. Then, you remember finally stepping out of the TARDIS and being completely astounded by this new planet, with all its colours, music and general liveliness.

The cute little bar wedged between two buildings; you remember that too. And of course, you remember the cocktail—you'd had two, or three, or... had it been four? You couldn’t really pinpoint it. The Doctor had said it was weaker than earth vodka, and maybe it was, but the after effects were definitely more intense to a human that human vodka was. That said you’d still be down for another drink or two before you left.

It was well worth the pain of a hangover to taste that drink again. Just the thought of it made your tastebuds tingle.

You let out a light laugh before rolling back over onto you side, but this time following it up with pulling yourself to a sitting position. The nausea was still there, but hardly noticeable; just a subtle warning to keep your movements slow and steady lest you start gagging.

Your head was still pounding, but you knew that wasn’t going to go away without pain killers, so you stumbled to your feet to go find the Doctor. He’d have something that could help, and at this point, you didn’t care what planet it came from, so long as it killed the raging headache and... well, didn’t kill you.

You found the Doctor in the kitchen of all places.

He was perched at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee in front of him, as well as a book. He startled when you stepped into the room, breathing a light, “oh, (Y/N),” as a greeting.

You continued into the room, wobbling on your feet for just a second, “good morning,” you greeted in return, forcing a smile onto your lips despite the headache, “you don’t happen to have any pain killers do you?”

The Doctor frowned, “are you unwell?”

“Just a bit of a hangover,” you promised with a wave of your hand, “a little worse than an earth alcohol hangover, but it’s manageable. I’ll be fine, my head just really hurts.”

“Right, of course,” the Doctor nodded, pushing himself up and moving towards the cupboards. He rifled around the cabinets, reading labels of things and putting them back before he finally found what he was looking for, “these aren’t of your earth, but they are basically the same thing as your planet’s Advils. I’m sorry I don’t have anything that’ll help from your earth, I should really invest in some if I’m going to keep soliciting companions from earth.”

“Soliciting?” You snorted a laugh, which made you wince lightly, “really?”

“Well, I do tempt you humans away with the offer of the entirety of the universe, now, don’t I?” You smiled at the Doctor’s cheeky grin as he joined you at your side, setting the pill bottle in front of you to do with as you pleased, whether that was to ignore it, or take a couple, before he carried on to the counter. “No different really, I offer the universe in exchange for companionship, and I’m proud to say very few have ever declined. Now, would you like a tea, or coffee?”

“Jokes on the ones who declined, they’re really missing out,” you huffed out as you picked up the pill bottle, surveying over the list of ingredients. None looked too out of the world, but honestly, you’d do anything at this point to ease the thrum of your headache, so you uncapped the bottle, “surprise me.”

The Doctor turned back to flash you a grin from where he’d busied himself at the counter, “will do, my Dear.”

You shook a few pills into your hand from the bottle, eyeing them as if they were about to change colours or something similarly alien-like, but when none of that happened, you frowned, “how many do I take?”

“Well...” the Doctor turned thoughtfully to lean against the counter, “I’d say to start off with one and see if it does anything for you. There will be small differences from planet to planet, and we wouldn’t want you to overdose. After a half an hour you can try taking another pill if one doesn’t help.”

“Sounds good,” you popped a single pill into your mouth before you could hesitate. As if the Doctor was magic, he slid a mug of you go-to morning beverage towards you, and you washed the pill down with a sip of the perfectly prepared drink.

You savored the taste of your drink, sighing into the warmth. When you’d had a couple sips, you put the cap back on the pill bottle and slid the bottle to the center of the table. You watched the Doctor move around the small kitchen as he made himself another coffee before joining you at the table.

The two of you settled into a silence, thankfully. You hunched over the table, your elbows on the surface and your cheeks cupped in your palms, as the Doctor continued reading, but he looked like he was lost in his thoughts instead of actually reading.

“How long have you been up?” you asked slowly, squeezing your eyes shut before blinking them open again to see the Doctor’s gaze on you. “You’re kinda spacing out.”

“I’ve just... some things on my mind,” the Doctor admits with a tiny curl upwards of his lips. It didn’t really answer the question, but at the same time it did. You didn’t think the Doctor had even gone to sleep. “Has the headache eased at all?”

Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape noticing suddenly that the headache was in fact almost gone. You hadn’t even realized, “yeah,” you informed with a laugh, “almost gone. I didn’t even notice—space things are so much better than earth things; the drugs and alcohol.”

“That would be a very worrying observation if I didn’t know exactly what you were talking about,” the Doctor snorted a laugh. You laughed along too, even if the statement was completely true—it had only been about ten minutes and the space Advil was already working wonders, where as the earth stuff could take anywhere from fifteen to thirty minutes to actually kick in.

“So,” you drawled after another string of comfortable silence between the two of you, “what’s been on you mind then?”

The Doctor eyed you up and down briefly before sighing, running his fingers through his hair and making his already untamed locks stand up at odder angles, “I was just thinking about yesterday.”

“Yesterday,” you parroted under your breath. You’d been thinking about yesterday too. How could you not be? There were still gaps in time where you don’t really remember what happened. “What happened yesterday?”

“You don’t remember?” The Doctor blinked.

“No, I do,” you leaned back in your chair with a sigh, “well, most of it, I think. But some of it... I don’t know? It’s kind of a blur. I guess the cocktails started hitting me towards the end of the evening, I barely remember coming back.”

“You were a bit out of it,” the Doctor admits sheepishly, “glad I cut you off at three drinks then.”

“I could’ve handled more,” you scoffed, smiling widely in a teasing way.

The Doctor rolled his eyes, leaning forwards, closer to you as his voice dropped, “I do believe three is probably your limit, Love.”

You let out a bout of bright laughter and the Doctor smiled softly. You loved how easy it was to banter with the man—how the two of you were so comfortable with the other that you could tease back and forth like this.

As if to prove his point, your head gave a warning thrum of pain that drew a shallow breath from you, “yeah,” you shook the pain off, “you’re probably right about three being my space-cocktail limit.”

The Doctor shook his head fondly at you as he settled back in his chair, “so, anything you’d like to know about yesterday? I did promise I’d tell you anything you’d like to know?”

You thought back to what you remembered about yesterday: the walk from the TARDIS to the bar, the ideal seating at the bar, those amazing rainbow cocktails that tasted like dreams. Drinking and chatting and laughing with the Doctor—splitting a plate of chips that were unbelievably delicious... and then... well, the space English the TARDIS didn’t bother translating for you.

“What was the bartender saying to you?”

The Doctor drew in a breath as his cheeks dusted the faintest pink, “nothing important, I assure.”

“C’mon,” you pouted, cradling your half drank, significantly cooled drink between your hands as you leaned towards the Doctor this time, “you said you promised to tell me about yesterday, right?”

The man chewed at his lip, subdued, but clearly trying to figure out the best course of action, “alright, well, we... I suppose we were acting a tad bit... involved? And... some assumptions were made about us by the barkeep.”

“Involved how?” you raised a questioning eyebrow. “And... what kind of assumptions?”

“Involved involved,” the Doctor cleared his throat, eyeing your level of understanding before rubbing his forehead and adding, “uhm, romantically involved. Those were, well, the main assumptions made as well.”

You gaped for a second before a thought came back to you suddenly, “he kept calling us lovers.”

“Yes,” the Doctor managed a light, fond smile, “I did try to explain it to him: us, our companionship—but, well, he... he didn’t believe me.”

“He didn’t believe you?” You repeated back, surprised.

“No,” the Doctor laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, “he made some pretty solid points in favor of us being romantically involved too, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” you teased, “and what points might those be?”

“Well, we were sitting fairly close--”

“As friends do,” the excuse came easily. The Doctor raised an eyebrow, but continued on like you hadn’t spoken.

“--I was hovering close to you, I suppose... A bit at least--”

“You were worried about me,” you interjected with a fond eyeroll at how wrong the bartender had been. Lovers? Come on, no way. You guys were... you were friends. Obviously. Though the thought of the Doctor hovering over you, making sure you were okay warmed your heart.

“--we leaned into each other’s sides, uhm, multiple times throughout the evening--”

You struggled for an excuse for that one, you did tend to lean into his space, not that the Doctor ever seemed to mind. And he liked to press into your personal space as well—neither of you really cared about proximity, so you managed a one shouldered shrug, “it was just loud in the bar, hard to hear each other.”

“--and, well, he pointed out I was staring at you occasionally; odd for him to have noticed, when I didn’t even realize I was doing it.”

You couldn’t come up with an excuse for that one, eyebrows furrowing in confusion that made your breath catch in the weirdest way. He’d been staring at you? Why did that make you feel so happy?

“And then the fact that you returned the stare when I wasn’t looking. Honestly, that barkeep spent more time watching us than he did working last night, I’m sure.” The Doctor let out a playful scoff, genuinely amused that the bartender had put more time into them than his job.

You however, were suddenly caught up in the information.

He’d been staring at you when you weren’t looking—fondly, you were sure, if it had caught the bartender’s attention and led him to believe the two of you were in a relationship. Then there was the fact that you were staring at him in return? You’d been caught by someone staring at the Doctor? You knew you did it sometimes, how could you not? He was a good-looking, kind, compassionate man who liked your company. Just being with him made your heart speed up.

“That doesn’t mean we’re a couple,” you forced yourself to say, even if... well, you were questioning it just slightly. You knew, of course, that the two of you weren’t a couple but... “That bartender was just bored and looking too far into us, I’m sure he was doing it to everyone...”

“Of course not, surely we’d know if we were, right?” the Doctor agreed with a light grin. The grin only lingered for a second before it faltered and he chewed at his bottom lip. You were about to question it, but he spoke again before you could, “but, well, I suppose there is the song he had to go off of as well.”

“The song?” You questioned before it all flooded back—well, most of it, at least, “we were on a stage. We... we sang together. Was that a karaoke bar or something?”

“We were,” the Doctor ducked his head in a nod, “we... did. And it, well, it was kind of like your earth karaoke bar. Do you remember anything about it?”

You tried to remember, you know the Doctor explained it last night after he’d gotten the information from the barkeeper, but you still don’t really know. And you’re sure there were bits and pieces that he didn’t tell you last night as well. So, you shook your head.

“Right,” the man nodded, settling his elbows on the tabletop as he held his chin up, “well, the concept of the song ritual we were roped into performing is that you sing whatever song best corresponds to what you think about your peer. I’m not exactly sure how it works to be honest, the expression through song is just strong.”

“So, whatever I felt about you would be... conveyed through a song?”

“Yes.” The Doctor gives a light nod.

“And whatever you felt about me would... would also be?”

“Indeed,” his head tilts as he surveys you, trying to piece together where you were going with this string of questions.

“But... we sang a duet, didn’t we?” You furrowed your eyebrows, running a finger along the rim of your mug. You faintly remembered chiming in with the Doctor’s song, instantly knowing the new lines to his song despite not knowing his lines, or the actual song. “Does that happen? What... what does it mean?”

“Well,” the Doctor cleared his throat, looking nervous. “It does happen, it’s just, well, it’s rare? I suppose. The barkeeper, just before we left, told me that the last time he saw a duet happen during the expression through song ceremony was when he was a child.”

“Wow, okay,” you bit the inside of your cheek. You had a feeling you knew what it meant, and the thought made your cheeks heat up, but you asked anyways, “what does a duet mean?”

“Well, generally speaking...” the Doctor shot you a small, crooked smile, “it means that we feel exactly the same way about each other. Exactly the same to the point that our expression would be through the same song, at the same time.”

“Wow,” you couldn’t help but repeat, “that’s... wow. So it really is unusual then? Why did it happen to us? Was it a fluke?”

“No, don’t think so,” the Doctor shakes his head, a blush rising to his cheeks as his fingers tap against the table, “something like that would be hard to fake, so I doubt it was a fluke. We chose the song—deep in our subconscious when thinking of the other... I mean... I didn’t know the lyrics beforehand, did you?”

“No,” you breathed out, fingers fiddling with your empty mug, “I don’t even think I remember the lyrics now. They were just... in my head when they needed to be. I didn’t even know your lines of the song. It’s weird that we were the people that got the duet—random visitors.”

“It was the same for me,” the Doctor sends you a small smile, “I think few people view their... companion the same way their companion views them. It seems highly unlikely that any two people can feel the exact same way...”

You’re not sure why, but there’s something different about the way the Doctor says companion this time around. Maybe he holds a different fondness than you’re used to, or perhaps some other reason, but there’s an unfamiliar warmth in the word.

“But we did,” you whisper, looking up momentarily and catching the Doctor’s eyes before dropping your gaze back to your cup.

“But we did,” the Doctor repeats, just slightly louder than you. Like he too can’t wrap his brain around it. There’s a pause before the Doctor’s clearing his throat, forcing a crooked smile onto his lips. “Well, I promised you we head to the shops for some alcohol and other treats, didn’t I?”

The Doctor stands, moving swiftly towards the door without looking back.

“I meant it, you know?” You speak before you even realize you’re speaking. You don’t see the Doctor stop, since you’re facing the other direction, but you hear his steps come to a halt, feet planting in spot.

He doesn’t say anything for a second, which prompts you on, “I do need you.”

He still doesn’t say anything, or move, so you stand and gather both your mug and his own, walking in the opposite direction from him towards the sink. You set the mugs in but don’t touch the faucet, instead mumbling a soft, “I want you.”

You’re not even sure if he’d still there anymore, or if he’d taken you moving as his cue to escape. You don’t turn to look, afraid to not find him there, so instead you whisper what little of your lyrics from yesterday that you remember, “come on back to me.”

Another moment of silence drags in before you hear the Doctor moving. His steps are quick, and you think he’s leaving out the door when suddenly hands are on your waist and he’s swiftly turning you around and gently pushing you against the edge of the counter beside the sink.

You manage to muffle your surprise as his lips press against yours, soft but urgently all the same.

You melt into his lips, eyes slipping shut as his hands leave your waist, one wrapping around your middle, as the other rises to cup at your jaw. It spurs you on too, your arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him just slightest bit close, to which he blindly follows your lead.

You don’t pull away until the need to breath outweighs how good it feels to be kissing him.

You both gasp for breath, but neither of you pull away, lips still touching the faintest bit, “I didn’t think you even remembered the lyrics... how... intimate the duet was...” It’s the first thing the Doctor’s said since trying to flee the room.

You slowly open your eyes, catching his eyes waiting to make contact and a smile pulls at your lips. You pull away a bit, pushing your forehead against his, “I didn’t really remember the lyrics until just now, but I never forgot the feeling of singing them to you, and hearing you singing them back to me.”

The arm around your waist tightens around you, “I didn’t know you felt the same way,” the Doctor whispers. “I didn’t want to... make you uncomfortable, or chase you away. And then you woke up this morning, and didn’t remember anything with the hangover, so I... was going to let it go.”

You’re sure you make a noise of protest, maybe even disappointment, but you only assume because the Doctor lets out a chuckle before stealing another kiss that you’re more than happy to give.

When he goes to pull back, you snake your hand up to hold him in place, mumbling softly against his lips the last of your lyrics, a message he’d sure to understand, “I love you sundown.”

The Doctor freezes against you pulling back just enough to look into your eyes before a smile creeps onto his face. You smile at his smile, watching him fondly as his head tilts in that adorable way, affection bright in his eyes, “and I, you, my Love.”

You melt at the words leaning into him and pressing your head against his chest, fitted perfectly under his chin like a puzzle piece. Your arms wrap around him, and his move to hold you against himself just as you had done to him seconds earlier.

You stay like that for a while—you're not sure how long. You feel protected tucked against the Doctor, and it’s a feeling you’re never going to forget.

“How’s your head?” he asks softly above you, the voice after so long of nothing by his steady heart beats startles you. The Doctor presses an apologetic kiss to the top of your head.

“Better,” you decide, nuzzling closer to him, “why?”

“Well, I did promise we’d check out the shops, if you’re feeling up to it.”

“I almost forgot about that,” you laugh, finally pulling away. The Doctor unwraps his hand begrudgingly, frowning as he does so. You let out a laugh, slipping your hand into his. “I wanna see the shops before we leave this evening. We’ve gotta get some of that vodka.”

“I see more hangovers in your near future,” the Doctor snorts as he leads you along by the hand.

“Oh, and, we should definitely pick up a gift for the bartender from last night,” you add, ignoring the Doctor’s teasing jab at your weak human alcohol tolerance.

“Why’s that?”

“Well, without his instance that we sing, and his instance that we were a couple, none of this,” you gesture down to your interlocked hands as the two of you step out of the TARDIS and onto the busy, colourful streets, “would’ve happened.”

The Doctor’s quiet for a second as the two of you fall into step. “There’s nothing in the universe that can ever thank him enough for what he’s done,” the man softly admits, giving your hand an adoring squeeze that drives his words home.

Your cheeks heat up as you tuck yourself in his side. He moves easily to accommodate you, releasing your hand to wrap his arm over your shoulders instead. You move your hand to squeeze around his waist, grinning as you respond cheekily, “I don’t know, Doctor, the space vodka is pretty good...”

The man sputters at your response, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow, “I was being all cute and you’re comparing the gift of our newfound relationship to vodka?” the man questions, genuinely dumbfounded.

You give a one shouldered shrug at his side, giggling at his reaction. It wasn’t long until the man was letting out a fond sigh, thumb stroking against your collarbone, “what am I going to do with you?”

The tease in his words has you smiling. There really is nothing in the universe that seems equivalent to the gift the bartender bestowed to you, but... yeah, a bottle of space vodka was a nice start.

<><><><>

Hello again! Hopefully you liked this continuation. Not sure if it kept to the prompt exactly, I got a bit carried away writing it, but nonetheless, I hope it was good! Feel free to prompt again if it wasn’t what you were looking for, as always!

I’ll try to keep up with the prompts but idk how well I’ll be able to manage between life and the other works in other fandoms. Anyways, hope you have a great morning/day/night!

#Tenth Doctor #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #10 #10th doctor #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor x you #doctor who #doctor who 2005 #reader insert #dw #TARDIS #ten #writing prompt #writing requests #fanfiction #fanfic

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wanderinginksplot · 3 years ago

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Bad Batch + Carnival (Part One)

Dedicated to middleearth2asgard on AO3, who requested something in this vein literal months ago. Sorry it took so long, but I finally had the inspiration to (hopefully) do your prompt justice!

Batch Batch and gn!reader, no pairing. Word Count: 3,300 Warnings: Competitive troopers and bullying (seriously, I made myself furious writing this, so tread lightly)

"This serves no purpose," Tech grumbled, stripping off the last of his armor.

"Bonding is a purpose," Echo countered. "It will make us a better team."

"We're already a team," Crosshair complained.

"It'll be fun!" Wrecker boomed, nudging everyone closer to the door of the Havoc Marauder.

Privately, you agreed with Wrecker. The Bad Batch was on leave, and it had kicked in before you even got back to Coruscant. The result was that you had a few hours on Cartao, a mid-rim planet that was currently hosting, of all things, a traveling carnival.

It was undoubtedly frivolous, taking such highly trained men to such a silly, time-wasting event, but that was probably also why it was so important for them to go. The missions and constant battles were manageable, but they were also draining. This chance wouldn't come around again, the perfect overlap of time and place.

Despite your endorsement, the carnival was not your idea. It was Hunter’s. He had spoken to you about it yesterday, concerned about the minor squabbles and competitions he had been seeing among the Batch lately. “They’re trained commandos,” he had told you, “but they’re also men. If they don’t blow off some steam here and there, they’ll be impossible to live with. This will help cut down on any casualties from friendly fire.”

That was something you could get behind. When Bad Batchers got bored, things turned sour very quickly. As you let Wrecker usher you through the door, you smiled to yourself. This was going to be fun.

Hunter had managed to land the Marauder just outside of the grounds where the carnival had been set up. As your boots touched the surface of Cartao, you took a deep breath. The smell of disturbed dirt and warm sweets hung thick in the air, threatening to overpower the scent of good farmland that the rest of the planet had boasted. The lights were dazzling even from a distance, and children of every species ran beneath them, looking just as entranced as you felt. Large paddocks held animals of various sizes and types, docilely letting people pat at their sides and faces.

"Look, a sharpshooting range!" you pointed out, elbowing Crosshair. The sniper looked less than enthused, but that was what he deserved for walking so close to your side.

"Strength tester?" Wrecker scoffed, staring in the opposite direction. "I could beat that flimsy thing with one finger!"

Tech, on the other hand, was peering suspiciously at a booth with highly doubtful phrases painted across the front. "What would a galactic trivia champion be doing at a traveling carnival?"

"Whatever they want, probably," Echo countered logically. "Not a lot of call for trivia champions in the galaxy right now."

"I have a challenge, if anyone thinks they're up for it," Hunter said, instantly getting the attention of the hyper-competitive group. "Each of us has to play one of the carnival games. The one who does best on their game wins a prize.”

"Prize?" Wrecker asked eagerly. "What is it?"

"It's, uhhh…" Hunter drew out, clearly not prepared for his challenge to be accepted so quickly. "You get to skip your next guard shift."

"Not much of a prize," Echo told him.

"Yes, shift trades are something we do too regularly to be impressed by them," Tech agreed. "It should be something rare."

"Okay," Hunter accepted. "Like what?"

"That," Crosshair suggested, pointing past you.

Hunter turned to look. "The haunted house? If you want to go through, Cross, you can just go. It doesn't need to be a prize."

"Not the house itself, but someone coming along," Crosshair amended, jerking his chin at you.

You took a half-step back before you could help it. You hated haunted houses. In fact, you were a notorious wimp when it came to anything horror-based. Holofilms, music, themed events… You hated it all. This house looked especially creepy, set to a rather insensitive Dathomir theme.

"Oh, no," you refused immediately. "I don't do scary stuff, you guys know that."

"That’s the point," Echo told you.

"C'mon," Wrecker encouraged. "Live a little!"

"Look at that thing!" you countered, gesturing at the house in question. "I'm trying to live, that's why I don't want to go in there!"

Everyone turned to look at the house with you. 'House' was a misleading name for it. A meadow unfolded in front of the entrance to a cave. False trees dotted the grass, burial pods swaying unnervingly from their branches. When beings made it through the meadow, they entered the cave, lit only by eerie green phosphorescence. Workers dressed as either Dathomir witches or decayed bodies ambushed beings near the trees, in the tall grass, or at the mouth of the cave.

"It looks structurally stable," Tech said unhelpfully.

"Not the part I'm worried about, Tech," you told him dryly.

“We’re all going out of our comfort zones,” Hunter persuaded.

“Are you?” you asked, arching a brow. “I just heard that you would play carnival games. Not exactly pushing the boundaries of the imaginable.”

“Did I forget to mention it?” Hunter asked mischievously. “The other members of the Batch get to choose each game… and none of them can match up with the player’s genetically enhanced talents.”

That, at least, sounded fairly amusing for you. “Fine. I’ll go into the house of nightmares with whoever ends up winning.”

“Now we’re talking!” Wrecker cheered. “Let’s do this!”

“Fine, you go first,” Crosshair volunteered him with a scowl.

Hunter passed you some credits. “You and Wrecker go buy tickets for the games and two entrance passes for the haunted house. We’ll pick out a game for him.”

Echo, Tech, Hunter, and Crosshair huddled into a group, frantically whispering among themselves as you and Wrecker went to do as Hunter had asked. “Are you nervous?” you asked.

“Nah,” Wrecker shrugged off. “They’re my brothers. Plus, they can’t do anything worse than embarrass me. And I’m not shy!”

You had to agree with that, since Wrecker’s last sentence had been nearly bellowed. He had now attracted the attention of roughly half of the carnival.

“I suppose that’s a fair point,” you agreed lowly.

When the two of you got back to your group, the rest of the Batch led Wrecker to a stand. It had a long lane leading to a collection of rings at the end.

“Is this a skee-ball machine?” you asked.

“Yes,” Echo replied, short and sweet. “Tech had a theory.”

You hummed noncommittally. You had questions, but the least you could do is wait to see how it went. At least if Wrecker took you through the haunted house, you may have fewer beings trying to scare you. Wrecker was intimidating enough to make anyone think twice about jumping out at him.

Wrecker picked up the disproportionately heavy ball - it looked ridiculously tiny in his large hand - and bowled it down the lane with a broad grin on his face. It hit the fold at the end and launched upward… soaring directly over all of the hoops. It hit the backboard with a loud thwack! and rolled down into the collection section that gave him no points.

“Kriff,” Wrecker complained.

“Try easing off a bit, Wreck,” Hunter advised.

“Okay, I will,” Wrecker agreed.

But the next throw went exactly the same. And the next one. And the one after that. By the time the game ended, Wrecker had earned only five points… and those were only because Crosshair had kicked him in the back of the knee as he threw and messed up his balance.

“Guess I’m not taking you through the house,” Wrecker admitted with a shrug.

“That’s okay, Wrecker,” you said kindly, patting him on the arm. “Besides, you got five points. There’s always a chance that will be the best score.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Crosshair told you as he slouched past.

As the Bad Batch wandered back toward the center of the carnival, you caught up to them. “I thought you said the game you chose couldn’t have anything to do with the player’s genetic enhancement?”

“It did not,” Tech said, tone suggesting it should have been obvious. “That was not a game of strength, it was a game of skill.”

“Fine line, I guess,” you muttered to yourself. “Who’s next?”

“Tech,” Wrecker said decisively. The next moment, everyone left to huddle up, leaving you alone with Tech.

In interest of fairness, you asked him the same question you had asked Wrecker: “Are you nervous about what they’ll pick?”

“Not in the slightest,” Tech answered, adjusting his goggles slightly. “At the risk of sounding overconfident, intellect is a skill that is difficult to beat.”

When the decision had been made, Tech was brought to a booth full of strange objects. The sign above the stand - written in more languages than you had often seen collected in one place - said Guess the Weight.

You sighed irritably.

Hunter, standing near enough to hear it with his enhanced senses, quirked a brow at you. “What’s wrong with you?”

“When Tech wins, I won’t let him record me in the house. That’s cheating.” You were all for honoring an agreement, but Tech recorded everything. If he won, the entire Batch would see you at your most cowardly.

Hunter chuckled. “I wouldn’t worry too much about that.”

Before you could ask what he met, the game started. The carnival worker - a violet-skinned Theelin with lovely indigo hair - pointed to a large, jagged-looking piece of stone. “How much do you think it weighs?”

“What is the type of stone?” Tech asked.

The worker wagged her finger at him. “You don’t get to ask questions about them.”

“But how can I be expected to guess accurately if I have no information?” Tech frowned. “Can I at least know the planet of origin?”

“No,” the worker told him with a sly little smile.

“Then I cannot possibly guess.”

“Just say anything, Tech!” Wrecker encouraged.

Tech glanced back at him, looking extremely offended. As he launched into a lecture about how even guesses should be made reasonably accurate, Hunter grinned at you. “Told you. He’s too logic-driven for stuff like this.”

You fought back a smile of your own. “And aren’t you glad? That’s saved all of our lives more than once.”

“True,” Echo agreed. “But we’re not on a mission now. We’re playing to win.”

In the end, Tech ran out of time before he had made even one guess.

“Well, at least we know the worst possible score,” Crosshair snarked.

You frowned at him, but Echo interrupted before you could say anything that would lead to an argument. “I’ll go next.”

Without further encouragement, everyone gathered to discuss the best choice of game for Echo. You glanced up at the cybernetically-enhanced trooper. “Nervous?”

Echo chuckled. “I know my own abilities. I’ll be fine.”

When the Bad Batch revealed their choice of game for Echo, you were more displeased than he was. It was a simple, classic carnival game: throwing a soft ball at a target.

Wrecker elbowed you, knocking the breath from your lungs. “Echo was always right-handed. Well, his right hand’s gone now!”

“Excuse me?” you asked as soon as you were able to breathe again, still unable to make the question as sharp as you had originally planned. “Are you seriously telling me that you-”

You were interrupted by the sound of laughter from the group as Echo missed shot after shot. His throws were clumsy and uncoordinated, and the game ended without him getting a single point.

While the rest of the group decided that Hunter was next, you were absolutely fuming. Echo bumped his shoulder against yours. “If you glare any harder at that tent, you’re going to set it on fire.”

“Were they serious?” you sputtered. “How could they- Wait. Didn’t you tell me…” you paused, eying him suspiciously. “Maybe I’m misremembering, but I swear you told me once that you were ambidextrous even before the explosion. Am I wrong?”

“You’re not wrong,” Echo agreed. “I can use my left hand pretty easily.”

“Then why..?”

Echo shrugged. “I don’t like haunted houses either, honestly. I took a dive and I’ll sit this one out. No problem for me.”

“That’s… clever, actually,” you said, half-admiringly. “Still, we’re going to have a long conversation about what’s appropriate when we get back to the Marauder.”

You hadn’t gotten the chance to ask Hunter if he was nervous. In fact, you only just saw his game start by jogging after Echo to rejoin the Bad Batch.

Whack-a-Seppie, the sign encouraged, featuring small, poorly drawn caricatures of famous Separatist generals and leaders. Tasteless? Definitely. But this was the Inner Rim, far from the most violent fronts of the war. The people needed some way to feel connected to the chaos in the galaxy. The alternative was to live in ignorance of the biggest threat to liberty the galaxy had seen in a century. Comfortable, but dangerous.

Hunter stood holding a comically large padded mallet. In front of him was a table studded with holes. Presumably, the Seppies in question would rise through the openings and he would hit them. Simple, straightforward. It didn’t match up with anything the Batch had done so far with this challenge, and you were immediately suspicious.

The moment the game started, you knew why it had been chosen for Hunter: bright lights came on, flashing wildly while loud music played. Even startled and overwhelmed, Hunter managed to hit a few of the Seppies, but every hit led to an even louder sound effect blasting through the area. Hunter’s movements with the mallet grew more hesitant until the game had finally ended. He had earned twenty points.

The rest of the Bad Batch was laughing among themselves - at least, they were until you rounded on them. “Are you proud of yourselves?”

“A little,” Crosshair admitted freely, a broad grin on his tattooed face.

“It was the perfect game for Hunter,” Tech explained, as if you didn’t understand. “The lights and sound effects-”

“Oh, I know exactly why you chose it,” you cut in. “The only question is how dare you? This was supposed to be a silly little challenge, a simple way for everyone to blow off some steam, to have fun as a group. Instead, you twisted it, chose to hurt each other.”

“No one got hurt,” Wrecker argued, looking surprised.

“Didn’t they?” you asked. “Maybe you didn’t, Wrecker, and Tech was more frustrated than anything, but Echo and Hunter… You chose a game that you thought would highlight everything Echo lost in the explosion that almost killed him. That’s not something you do to your friend. And you all know Hunter gets sensory overload. You’ve seen a migraine take him down for a full day - the sergeant who can handle everything the droids throw his way, betrayed by his own body. And what did you do with that knowledge? You used it to make him lose a kriffing carnival game. You did your best to trigger a migraine so you could win a nonsensical prize.”

You cut yourself off, taking stock of faces. Wrecker looked shocked, Tech confused, Echo embarrassed, Hunter sheepish under the pain of his sensory overload, and Crosshair guilty. There was no getting around it: you needed a few minutes, needed some time to cool down. If you stayed, your attitude wouldn’t improve.

“You know what? Here are the tickets for your haunted house. I’m not interested.”

After you had handed the tickets to Crosshair, you stalked away. Your first thought was to go back to the Havoc Marauder, but you were too mad to confine yourself to a small space. Instead, you walked around the carnival for a bit, moving until you had burned off some of the manic anger energy. When you had finished, you wanted to sit down more than anything, so you bought a ticket for the Ferris wheel. The view from the top was soothing to your soul. By the time you rotated back down to the bottom, you were calm enough that the sight of the Bad Batch waiting for you didn’t make you immediately enraged.

“You were right,” Wrecker told you as you approached the group, soothing you even further.

“We were too competitive,” Tech chimed in, adjusting his goggles.

Hunter grunted something in the affirmative. “We took it too far.”

Echo nodded and even Crosshair looked reasonably contrite - more than you had expected from any of the Batch. Most times, they were too stubborn for their own good… something you had in common with them, to be honest.

“We still have one more game to play, if you’ll forgive us enough to participate?” Echo asked carefully, tipping his head in Crosshair’s direction.

“I’ll watch,” you agreed. “I’ll even agree to go in the stupid haunted house, but I want to help you choose Crosshair’s game. And I want to be able to veto if you make a bad choice.”

“Nah,” Crosshair told you. “I’m not afraid of anything they can think up. I don’t need your protection.”

“Watch it, Cross,” Hunter told him quietly.

“No, it’s okay,” you reassured him. “Go ahead and choose a game for him.”

If you were being truthful with yourself, you hadn’t expected Crosshair to easily accept the idea of you stepping in on anyone’s behalf, much less his own. In any case, you didn’t expect Crosshair to do well on whatever game his brothers picked. He had never shown any real acceptance of you or your place in the Bad Batch. Of all of them, Crosshair would have less reason than anyone to do his best in a carnival game.

In the end, the Batch chose a strength tester for him - the same one Wrecker had pointed out on your way into the carnival.

“You do realize I was engineered for strength as much as the rest of you,” Crosshair pointed out.

“Look at the label,” Echo instructed. “It’s a product of Devaron. It should be difficult, even for an enhanced trooper.”

“Besides, Hunter tested it earlier,” Tech said. “He was only able to score 10 points, and he spends more time working on his combat strength than you do. It should work well enough for our purposes.”

Crosshair sighed and glanced your way. You tried not to look too… anything. You just wanted to be unobjectionable. Silly you; Crosshair could find a way to object to anything.

He stepped forward, feeding a ticket into the machine and pressing the button to start the game. The brightly lit display told him he would get to hit the padded target twice. The higher score would be his final one.

Crosshair planted his feet and got into his favorite stance for combat. He pulled back and lashed out decisively, making contact with the target in a satisfying thump! The screen tallied for a moment, eventually flashing an 8.

“Not bad, Cross!” Wrecker cheered.

“Little more this time!” Echo told him encouragingly.

Cross looked back at them, his eyes traveling across the group before pausing on you. His jaw clenched, making the ever-present toothpick in his mouth wobble. He stepped forward again, but didn’t strike. Instead, he moved up next to the machine, pulled the toothpick from between his teeth, and jabbed it into the hinge of the hanging target. With that done, he stepped back and punched again. The screen flickered for a moment, tallying his second hit. It took long enough that you started to wonder if he had broken the machine completely. Finally the screen displayed a number: 100.

Crosshair turned back to the Batch with a triumphant grin on his lean face.

“Nicely done, Cross,” Hunter congratulated, his words mirrored by the other Bad Batch members and yourself.

He nodded to accept their compliments, then strutted up to you. He held out the tickets for the haunted house that you had thrust at him before you stormed off earlier. “Ready?”

The smile faded from your face as your stomach tightened. Over the course of the evening, you had somehow managed to forget that you had agreed to go through the house. And since you had forgiven the boys for their behavior, you were out of reasons not to go through. You swallowed nervously, but nodded anyway.

“Let’s go.”

---

A/N - I already spent way too much time on this fic to try and invent an in-universe way of explaining skee ball. Sorry if that jarred anyone out of a Star Wars headspace!

Remember, friends, competition is not an excuse to be a bully. Part two of this fic will be out later this week!

Check out more works on my masterlist or request a one-shot of your own!

Part Two of this work has now been posted!

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celticcrossanon · 3 years ago

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BRF Reading - 26th of September 2021

This is speculation only

Cards drawn 26th of September 2021

Question: What will be the consequences of this pseudo-royal NYC 'Tour' (to the Harkles)?

Interpretation: It will be a burden to them and link them to Prince Andrew in some way.

Card One: The Ten of Wands. This is a card of feeling burdened, of losing creative energy, of having your dreams turn to dust around you. The card shows Jason sitting in a burning shelter made out of planks from his ship, the Argo. The results of his adventures, the golden fleece, lies discarded on the ground.

Here Jason stands for the Harkles. They have built a pseudo-royal tour based on what they have used for attention since they left the BRF - PR contacts and money (shelter from the beams from the Argo). This tour is burning down around them. It is not going the way they expected and it will become a burden to them in the future. The prize they have gained since leaving the BRF, their narrative of having to leave the toxic BRF/being victims of the BRF, has been undermined and discarded by this royal cos-play (the golden fleece).

You can not say you were forced to leave a toxic BRF for your mental health, do everything you can to build a new life separate from the BRF where you are 'thriving', and then do a pseudo-royal tour that screams "Look at us! We are royals!". The hypocrisy is obvious to everyone except the Harkles. They have destroyed their narrative for a pseudo-royal tour that is turning out the opposite of what they expected. As the card shows, their dream of being celebrity royals is burning to the ground around them right now, leaving them with nothing but ashes.

Card Two: The Page of Wands. In this reading, the Page of Wands is coming across as a PR message. I drew two clarifiers and they were the Six of Cups, the card of childhood, and the Knight of Wands, my card for Harry when he is being an idiot - that is, when he is indulging in hasty actions without thinking them through. So the PR message indicated by the Page of Wands involves Harry, a child of the BRF, sending a message to the BRF.

What the message is can be seen through the figure on the card - a boy riding the golden sheep who will later become the golden fleece, waving a torch. The boy is Harry, the golden sheep is what Harry sees as the success of this 'tour', and the torch is the PR he is using to send his message to the BRF, saying "Look at me on the way to success without you! I don't need you! I can royal all by myself!". So even thought the tour is turning into a disaster for them and will become a burden for them, Harry is flaunting it to the BRF as a huge success - he can royal better than them (and without obeying their stuffy rules). The BRF, of course, is quite capable of sending a message back via PR, but I don't think Harry has thought of that.

Card Three: The World. The World is a card about the end of a cycle, of looking back at what you have done to get where you are, tying up any lose ends, and then celebrating your achievement before moving on. This pseudo-royal 'tour' can certainly be seen as a celebration of the Harkles' delusions, vut that is not the main energy I am getting from this card.

The energy of this card is of ending. It is over. Something has finished and can not be resurrected. I think that this end of a cycle refers to the Harkles's victim narrative, with the toxic BRF, as their 'tour' has seriously damaged the credibility of that narrative and exposed them as attention seekers. The ending could also be of the pseudo-royal tour itself - that they got this one and no more, as it would not surprise me if the word came down through diplomatic channels that these events with the Harkles are not to be allowed in the future.

The World is the major arcana card for Saturn, and Saturn is the planet that shows Karma, your past actions coming back to you. It is the planet of hard work - if you work hard and follow the rules, Saturn will reward you at some point in the future. It is the planet of time, as Saturn is all about the future consequences of present actions, and it is the planet of authority and authority figures, like the parent who makes you do your homework instead of playing. The Harkles have not worked hard, they have disobeyed the rules set down for Megxit and the rules of common decency, and they have flouted the authority of their parents/grandparents, disowning Thomas Markle and publicly mocking the BRF and hence HMTQ. Having the planet Saturn, the planet of consequences for your actions, appear in a spread about consequences under those circumstances - well, it is not the best card to have, to say the least.

As a consequence of this 'tour', I expect at lot of things to end for the Harkles, both expected and unexpected.

Card Four: The Knight of Cups. This is a water sign card, particularly a Pisces, and in this reading it is coming across as Prince Andrew, a sun-sign Pisces. Coming after The World card, this tells me that the ending of a cycle and Saturn consequences shown by that card will involve Prince Andrew in some way. The Harkles may be exposed as being linked to him and his activities as a consequence of this pseudo-royal 'tour'.

I drew a clarifier for this card, and it was the Nine of Pentacles. Pentacles is the money suit, so that indicates a link to Prince Andrew and his activities involving money, i.e. his shady business deals (this came up in my spread yesterday as well).

The Nine of Pentacles is also the card of being happy, rich and Single, the Knight of Cups can be a very romantic attitude to things or about romance in general, Prince Andrew is divorced, and taking all these things together this could be hinting at Harry being single as a consequence of this tour (again, this came up in my reading yesterday - divorce energy).

Card Five: The Five of Swords. This is a card of not being able to win for losing. It can be a card of conflict and disagreements. Whatever you do, you will not be happy with the result. In my deck, it carries a message of having to do your duty, however distasteful. The card shows the god Apollo appearing to Orestes, who is in exile, and telling him that his duty is to kill his mother, an act that will damn him in the eyes of the gods, but not doing it will damn him as well.

The Five of Swords can mean legal troubles, as an extension of its meaning of conflicts and disagreements. Coming after the Knight of Cups representing Prince Andrew, it could indicate that the Harkles will be involved in Prince Andrews legal troubles in some way (how, I don't know).

In its meaning as doing your duty, however distasteful, this card is a general message both to the Harkles (which they have ignored up until now, so I don't think they will listen to it) and to the next card, with which it is strongly linked.

I drew a clarifier for this card and it was the Seven of Pentacles. This is usually my card of dodgy sex acts, and as such reaffirms the link between the Harkles and Prince Andrew's legal matters. The Seven of pentacles can also show a case of divided allegiance, not knowing where to invest your time and talents. The divided allegiance energy is coming through strongly with respect to the Harkles. I don't know if one of them is going to decide to turn back to HMTQ, thus splitting the pair, especially after the divorce hints in the proceeding card (don't trust them Your Majesty!), or if the divided allegiance refers to their involvement in Prince Andrew's court case and they will work for their own interests in this matter, or if it is something else. I only know that that is the meaning that is coming through this card with respect to the consequences of this tour - a divided allegiance, and that ties in with the 'doing your duty' and 'not winning for losing' aspects of the Five of Swords card.

Card Six: The King of Cups. This is a water sign person, particularly a Scorpio, and it is coming across as Prince Charles. It is also coming across as strongly linked to the Five of Swords card in the sense of doing your duty, however unpleasant. Something about this pseudo-royal 'tour' is going to result in Prince Charles being forced to do his duty, a duty that he regards as unpleasant and that will not benefit him personally. The energy is very much that Prince Charles is forced into this and does not do t willingly, but rather because he has no other choice.

Underlying Energy One: The Chariot. The Chariot is the card of cancer, and this card is coming across as Prince William, who is a sun sign Cancer. Whatever the consequences of this tour are for the Harkles, Prince William will be behind them and pushing to make sure they are enacted. He will be like the Chariot card - going around or overcoming all obstacles and driving straight ahead until he achieves this.

Underlying Energy Two: The Hierophant. This is the card for institutions, and here it comes across as the BRF. The card is linked to the one before it, the Chariot. Consequences will come either from the BRF or from how the Harkles have mocked the BRF by this tour, or both areas. With the consequences from the BRF, they will be pushed through by Prince William, with the support of the BRF.

Underlying Energy Three: The King of Wands. This is a fire sign person, particularly a Leo. This is usually my card for Meghan, and her energy is here, but there is also the energy of a member of the BRF - Princess Beatrice, also a sun sign Leo. Princess Beatrice will be involved with whatever the BRF is doing, and she will support it.

Meghan's energy is a surprise, but it is definitely here. The 'tour' is going to have consequences for her and Harry, and she will be the one behind some of the consequences that fall on Prince Harry. I just drew two clarifiers for this card - The Two of Cups, the card of relationships, especially romantic ones, and deciding whether to pursue the relationship or not, and the Hermit, which is the card for Virgo, the sun sign of Prince harry, and is also the card for being alone/single. The Hermit card shows Kronus, the god also known as Saturn, who is our modern figure of Father Tim,e carrying the scythe associated with death/the grim reaper. The consequences from Meghan will affect the relationship between her and Prince Harry and may , in time, lead to Harry becoming single, i.e. lead to divorce/the death of their relationship.

Conclusion: This pseudo-royal tour will become a burden to the Harkles and expose the hypocrisy of their 'toxic BRF' victim narrative. It is being used by Harry to send a message to the BRF, and that message as well as the tour itself will lead to the ending of things for the Harkles, both expected and unexpected, as part of the consequences of their actions coming home to them. Prince Andrew will be involved in some way; they may be linked to him via shady money matters, or via his legal troubles, or both. Prince Charles will be forced to perform an unpleasant duty that is related to this 'tour' by the Harkles. Prince William will push through whatever actions come from the BRF, and these actions will be involve the support of Princess Beatrice. There will also be consequences for the Harkle relationship, with Meghan taking action against Harry, and there are indications of a divorce in the future.

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pascalpanic · 4 years ago

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Burning The Midnight Oil (Javier Peña x gn!Reader)

Summary: Javier has been burning the candle at both ends. He just needs some rest. Luckily, you’ve got your husband covered.

W/C: 3.4K

Warnings: oh boy um. language, non sexual nudity, brief sexual jokes/innuendo, lots of talk of sleep deprivation bc that’s a plot point here, brief mentions of alcohol and guns (maybe once each), mostly talk of food/eating, eating meat/pork (Javier does, not reader) otherwise I’d say it’s fluffy for the most part

A/N: ☄️ anon, god bless your soul for this idea!! I really love it so I banged it out in one night and here we are!!

You haven’t seen your husband in days. You know he’s exhausted, only ever showing up at home when you’re off at work. It’s a terrible situation, the only contact you’ve had with him being at odd hours over the phone.

The DEA has been all hands on deck this week, requiring their men to be there at all times unless they’re at home and sleeping; even then, they only get about six hours off at a time, many of them too wired to sleep. Javier only gets to come home every other day, usually during the middle of the day. He’s been staying up for a dangerous amount of time, in your opinion, leaving you just about ready to find the heads of the cartel and beat their asses yourself.

During the work week, you can’t complain. You have no right to. You knew when you and Javier had eloped and married that the man’s job was a baggage you’d be forced to carry as a couple. You normally didn’t mind, but when it goes into the weekend, that’s when you get mad. Not just that you don’t get your husband at home with you, but that he doesn’t get to be home. He deserves it. Javier hardly relaxes during the weekends, and essentially does not relax on weeknights until he’s fallen asleep with his head on your chest.

Saturday found you running errands, expecting Javier home by midday at the very latest. Returning home with a pep in your step and finding no Javier there, your mood and smile fell instantly. It’s Saturday; your husband should be home. They should be letting them go home, you thought angrily as you took your anger out by chopping the vegetables to go into your dinner. Surely Javier will be home by dinnertime.

Nothing. 6 P.M., 7 P.M., no Javier, just a dinner growing cold and your heart sinking. You knew Javier had got his break yesterday, and had been in the apartment while you worked, but a slightly rumpled bed was the only evidence he was even there.

At 8, you walk to the phone and dial the DEA office, specifically Javier’s extension.

Your husband picks up and his voice wrecks your heart. “Peña,” he mumbles, his voice crackly. It sounds like his morning grumble after a long night of sleep next to you.

“Javi,” you coo, heart breaking. “Baby, when are you coming home?”

Javier perches on the edge of his desk, phone tucked between his cheek and shoulder. “Fuck, cariño, I don’t know,” he admits, rubbing his face. “I just woke up, I got an hour nap in the break room office. We have to keep going. We’re so close, I can tell.”

You understand his desperation, but you know exactly what he looks like now, a stubble growing thanks to his time away from home, his eyes bloodshot and drooping. His hair is probably messy and his shirt is probably all wrinkly; you’re absolutely certain he’s holding a mug of the sludgy black coffee the office brews. He’s most definitely the picture of exhaustion, and even though you can’t see him, you know your husband. He is a wreck. “I can let Saturday slide, but you’re coming home tomorrow, I don’t care how long. I need to see you and you need to be taken care of.” “I’m doing just fine,” Javier shakes his head and you can hear a flick of a lighter as he’s most likely lighting a cigarette.

“You’re not, and don’t try to pull that card with me. I know you. You’re a disaster; I can tell from your voice. You haven’t eaten and you haven’t slept and you can’t deny it. I want you home as soon as you can tomorrow, you got it? Don’t you even fucking dare try it, Javier Fernando Peña.”

The full name: ouch. He sighs and exhales the cigarette smoke, then takes a sip of his coffee before answering you. “God, I fucking love you,” he chuckles softly. “Okay.”

Another sign of Javier’s exhaustion: how easily he gives in. Javier is a stubborn man, but over your years together he’s learned that you’re just as hard to budge. When both of you are set, neither of you can be moved. Your sarcasm and wit and willpower was what drew him to you in the first place; Javier could never have a compliant, submitting partner. He’d be a mess. He needs you to ground him, he knew and still knows it. It’s why you’re married now.

“I love you too, handsome. Call me before you come home, okay baby? I want to be awake for you,” you say, a soft smile on your face. Your voice is much warmer, less jagged and rough.

It’s the way you always get Javi, the thing that makes him melt the most: when you’re snapping one second and gentle the next. God, he fucking loves you. You understand him, you don’t question him when he comes home and doesn’t speak. You read him and then you hold him, and all of his fears dissipate with his calming breath. “Okay. I love you,” he repeats again, more earnest and purposeful. He wants you to know it; he worries you haven’t felt it in the past week. It’s also another sign of his exhaustion.

“I love you too, Javi,” you remind him as you chuckle and stand. “Don’t fall asleep on the job. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Javier groans and cracks his neck after hanging up, sliding the typewriter back to the beginning. Just a little longer, he tells himself, then he gets to come home to you.

The phone rings around 5 in the morning, waking you from a restless slumber. The sun is just starting to rise, making the sky lighter and colorful from its previous midnight blue. Knowing Javier would be calling, it was impossible for you to sleep fully, leaving you in a dozing state more similar to a daydream than to any form of REM.

“Hello?” You answer with a groggy voice, hoping it’s Javier. Who else could it be, at this hour on a Sunday morning?

“Hey, dulzura,” Javier sighs into the phone. “I’m packing up my shit now. We didn’t get Escobar, but we got one of his big guys late last night. They’re bringing in some Search Bloc guys and giving us tomorrow off.”

You nearly cry in relief at his words, making a noise between a sigh and a squeal, heavy and happy. Javier laughs softly at your noise of relief, allowing himself to smile. His vision is hazy from the lack of sleep, but he’ll be cognizant enough after this last cup of coffee kicks in. “Get your ass home, Javi,” you tell him with a voice just as sleepy as his own. “You got an ETA for me?”

There’s a moment of silence as he looks at his watch. “5:45.”

Your eyes haven’t even opened yet, and you finally let them as you look at the clock. That’s soon, really soon, and it makes your heart speed up a little as your body forces you awake. “Great. I’ll see you then. Drive safe. If you’re too tired-”

“Steve will not be driving,” he cuts you off with a grumble. It makes you giggle a little, his adamance that Steve could never possibly do something better than him, more competently.

“Just reminding you. I’ll see you,” you tell him and hang up before he can make another sarcastic comment.

He’s glad you hang up so fast. He doesn’t have the brain power for a classic witty retort.

Javier goes to unlock the apartment door about half an hour later, but finds that his keys aren’t necessary: you’ve left the door unlocked for him.

He’d be ashamed to admit it to anyone but you, but it really does happen: Javier’s eyes water as he walks inside to the smell of cooking, the stream of soft light through the kitchen window, the sound of soft Sunday morning music drifting from the radio.

You’re at the oven, cooking, and turn when you hear a noise, grinning to see Javier. “Hey, handsome,” you squeal and rush over, wrapping your arms around him.

Javier buries his face in your hair, throwing his arms back around you. You smell fresh and clean, so soft in the fluffy robe he bought you for your birthday a few months ago now. You’re surprised to feel warm water drip from his eyes to your neck, and you pull away with a frown, cupping his face. “Are you okay, love?” You ask, wiping the tears from his eyes.

He nods. “So tired,” he admits and swallows hard. “So glad I’m home. So lucky I have you.”

You have a feeling he doesn’t have the energy to kiss you. Instead, you press your forehead to his and squeeze him tight in your arms. “Okay. I cooked breakfast. You need it. Why don’t you go take a shower?” You ask, breaking away and rubbing his arms.

He shakes his head. “My arms feel like lead. I don’t know if I can even wash my hair,” he admits, his voice a low rumble from his chest. “Just let me sleep, baby.”

“I’ll come with you, then,” you offer, already unbuttoning his shirt and working it off of him purely for comfort. You know your way around your husband’s body by now. You could unbutton his shirts blind; in fact, you have. “Come on, cariño,” you murmur and pull him along to the bathroom by the side of an unbuttoned shirt.

Once in the bathroom, Javier blinks and squints at the bright vanity lights, overwhelmed. You turn on the shower, the bathroom filling with warmth as the water heats and steam fills the air. Even in his tired state, Javier loves to undress you. He tugs the belt from your fuzzy robe, sliding it off your shoulders and tossing it on the counter. You then strip off your respective clothes, and you’re the first to step into the stream of the warm water.

Javi doesn’t have to say anything; you can tell his thoughts from your gaze. His eyes rake your body, taking in the sight of his most beloved person on the planet in all of your naked glory. He climbs in after you, and you grab a bar of soap and get to scrubbing, covering all of Javier’s body with the cucumber-scented suds. He leans his head back against the shower wall, loving your warm hands and the hot water. If he wasn’t standing, if his back wasn’t aching so hard, he’d fall asleep here and now. He’s never been more blissful.

You rinse his body then work his shampoo into his thick hair, your fingers scratching his scalp and massaging his head. “You’re the fucking best,” Javi mumbles sleepily. You just chuckle and work the soap into his hair, stripping it of the grime and cigarette smoke of the office, until he’s wiped clean, ready to start anew.

Later, you wash yourself and let Javier enjoy the hot stream of the water. He’s so zoned out you can’t even tell if he’s awake. You have to actually check. “Javi, baby?”

“Hm?” He mumbles

“Did you fall asleep on me?” You chuckle as you turn off the shower, which makes Javier frown at the loss of warmth.

“‘Course not,” he grumbles, taking the fluffy towel from you and wiping his face.

After the two of you have dressed in fresh clothes, you sit on the edge of your bed and wait for Javier to finish. He pulls a worn t-shirt over his head, then comes and sits next to you, kissing the side of your head. “You’re so good to me,” he mumbles into your temple.

He goes to flop back but you put an arm around him, catching him. “Excuse me, Agent. I made breakfast,” you chuckle and sneak a kiss from his lips, chuckling at the way his mustache is still a little damp. “When was the last time you ate?”

Javier stares off as he considers it. It takes a while for him to respond. You nod at that. “Exactly. Come on, I made breakfast just the way you like it.”

The food is still somewhat warm when you find your way to the kitchen. Javier loves the local cuisine, always has, but something about an American breakfast makes him weak at the knees. He sits at the kitchen counter and sighs as you hand him a plate of buttered toast. “There’s your appetizer,” you chuckle and head back to the stove. Half-cooked bacon, which you turned off when he came in, sits in a pan, and you turn it back on to finish. You crack a couple of eggs into another pan, making sure they sit just right so they’re the way Javi likes them: fried. You sprinkle them with salt and pepper, humming to the radio as you cook.

The sizzling bacon makes Javier’s stomach grumble. The toast isn’t even that warm anymore, but the carby goodness fills Javi’s mouth and suddenly he’s never felt so ravenous. The two pieces of buttered toast are devoured in a heartbeat.

Bringing him a mug, you pour some coffee and his favorite creamer in. “You’d better tip me later,” you tease him with a wink as you return to the stove, flipping the bacon and putting some onto a plate.

“I will tip you anything you want, I swear,” he murmurs before sipping at the ceramic mug, the warm coffee going down like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, warming him from the inside out. The A/C blasts in the apartment, making his dripping hair feel even colder.

In yet another pan, you start pouring the premade pancake mix you’d prepared before he got home. “All of this and the sun is barely up,” He muses, wandering to the other side of the counter and stealing a strip of bacon.

“Quit,” you whine and smack his hand, making the bacon fall back onto the plate. “Your order isn’t ready yet, sir. Stop harassing the cook.” When his arms wrap around you, your defenses fall. “Go sit down,” you say weakly as he kisses your neck.

At least he obeys. Javier sits in his chair and watches you intently, downing his coffee in a short amount of time.

Finally, the feast all comes together, and you present it to Javier on a large plate: bacon, fried eggs, fruit (which you know he won’t eat, but it’s worth a shot), and heart-shaped pancakes. “I wanted to make a pistol, but I’m not super artistic,” you chuckle as you refer to the fluffy cakes on the plate.

Javier shakes his head but smiles. “Thank you, dulzura,” he manages out before he digs in, devouring the plate at a breakneck speed. You’re content to watch, standing across from him. You go to refill his coffee and come back to find the pancakes completely gone.

It doesn’t take much time at all before the plate is wiped clean, the entire thing in Javier’s stomach. Food has never been the biggest concern for him; he skips meals often for work, and you suspect he hasn’t done much more than snack here or there over the past week. His eyes droop even further now that he has a full stomach, and it warms your heart. You’ve got your husband cleaned and fed; now all you need is one last step before you have your beloved Javi back.

“Alright, handsome,” you smile as you drape your arms across his shoulders. “Nap time.”

He can’t deny that. He stands, letting your arms fall off his shoulders. He pulls you around to his front and wraps his arms around you; you know what comes next in this routine. Your feet slide on top of his and Javier walks the two of you to the bedroom, you backwards and being led by him. Javier is not an overly affectionate man: kisses and sex, primarily, hugs if one of you really needs it. This is his one little act he insists on, since you don’t let him carry you.

As you waddle along, you kiss along Javier’s jaw, giving him all of the affection he missed out on in the past week. When you finally enter your bedroom, you stop as you feel the backs of your calves against the bed. You know this routine all too well. It’s usually reserved for when Javier can’t get his hands off of you, when you desperately need him on top of you, surrounding you, kissing your neck. “Wait,” you murmur and step off of his feet, going to pull back the covers.

You return to the end of the bed, standing on top of his feet again. “There,” you say with a grin, and Javi has no choice but to grin back then kiss you. “Okay, continue.”

Then your routine resumes: you fall backwards onto the bed and Javier falls on top of you. You both grunt with the impact but you smile, wrapping one arm around Javi while the other grabs the sheets and blankets and pulls them over the both of you.

Javi’s cheek is nestled against your chest, listening to your heartbeat, his eyes already shut. “Real cute. Get off of me now,” you tease and nudge his side.

His body beneath yours is all he’s needed, all he’s dreamt about while half-consciously dreaming on the apartment couch. He can feel your chest rise and fall, his head going with it. “No,” he simply mutters, his face squished against the skin encasing your beating heart. “M’comftrble.”

You can’t deny him that, you chuckle, your hands reaching down to entangle your fingers in his dark brown hair, nearly black from the dampness it holds. “Fine,” you sigh, whispering the word to him. “I love you so much, Javi. Missed you. Missed my man.”

“Missed you too, dulzura,” Javi mumbles back, but it’s clear he’s almost already out.

“How long were you up, minus that nap, Javi?” You ask.

He thinks on it for a minute, and you think he might’ve fallen asleep until he responds. “36.”

“Hours?” you exclaim quietly, massaging his scalp. “Baby.”

“I know. Had’ta.”

“Well, you can sleep as long as you need to now, love,” you murmur and kiss his forehead. He makes a soft noise of disapproval. “Just a nap. Wake me in like an hour.”

“Okay,” you lie, knowing you’ll let him sleep as long as his body needs it. “Rest now, baby.”

Javier nods and you exhale deeply, holding his head to your chest. He’s back now, your husband, and you know he’s safe, know he’s healthy and well taken-care of: you did it yourself. His breathing slows. You can feel it against your chest, the way the steady rise and fall becomes slower and slower and you know you’ve won when you hear a soft snore, his parted lips smashed against your chest.

You stay like that for a while, Javier lying on top of you and resting. It’s a comfort to have him pressed against you, to feel your husband’s body and know that he’s here. It’s even better to know he’s resting well, deeply, from the way he slumbers against your body. You intermittently kiss his head, continuing to rub his head in hopes it’ll loosen the tension he’ll surely have when he wakes.

About an hour passes, and you find yourself drowsier and drowsier as the sun rises higher and higher in the sky. Scooting out from beneath Javier, you replace your chest with a pillow to support his face. Rolling him slightly to the side, you cuddle in behind him and spoon him, your arms around him.

The quiet Sunday morning is all too perfect. You drift off too, then wake up an hour or two later and proceed about your household chores. You burn some pretty candles, clean, listen to the radio.

Javier doesn’t wake until 10 P.M. that night, 15 hours after he fell asleep.

Some nap.

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ducklooney · 3 years ago

Photo

After a long time, I managed to do this as well. And please don’t attack me for this, I still love other franchises outside of Disney. I wanted to post this yesterday, but for some reason I was prevented from doing this. And now the final part regarding Quack Week, which ended a week ago anyway. And it’s definitely tied to a crossover and it’s two crossovers and connected to Warner Bros. If you want a real crossover, this is what you were looking for.

Quack Pack Week- Crossovers

The first part is definitely related to my favorites and the best ducks with my team, which are Donald Duck from Disney and Daffy Duck from Warner Bros. This time as superheroes or other names for other egos, Duck Avenger (Paperinik) and Duck Dodgers (Duck Dodgers in 24 and 1⁄2 century!), who are otherwise one of my favorite superheroes, and Duck Dodgers is one of my favorite series. The two seem to have found themselves in the same century (although Paperinik in PKNA goes into the future mostly in the 23rd century, where he meets Odin Eidolon) and travel together in space (the background is mostly surrounded by stars and various planets, and they are on one planet where one can breathe freely). By the way, Donald and Daffy met once before, in the movie “Who Framed a Roger Rabbit,” one of my favorite movies and best crossovers, where the two of them got into a fight over playing the piano. Like this, they met again (and maybe they met before), but as superheroes. You can imagine a lot of their egos in one place. It would be funny. In addition to the two of them, there are also their teams. With Daffy Duck are also, Porky Pig as a space cadet, Plucky Duck from Tiny Toons (Daffy's student and in my headcanon and Daffy's adopted nephew) as Duck Dodgers Junior and certainly Melissa Duck as Daffy's girlfriend and companion (I changed her a bit). With Donald Duck (Paperinik from PKNA from European comics) there are also Uno (One-computer duck that gives instructions for Paperinik), Daisy Duck as Super Daisy (Paperinika) and Louie Duck as Paperinik Junior, or a bit of my version by my headcanon). And behind them are the villains, I mean the funny villains that I love. Marvin the Martian as Commander X-2 from Duck Dodgers and Zoster (member of the Euronian Empire and one of the infamous members of the aggressive alien ducks or Evronians) from PKNA. Unfortunately, not everyone stopped me, so I apologize for the fact that it turned out a little bad. I definitely hope for more crossovers like this. Yes, this is the second Paperinik crossover with another Duck hero, before that it was the Duck Avenger crossover with Darkwing Duck.

The second drawing represents Donald’s nephews, namely Quack Pack triplets with a team from Tiny Toons and Animaniacs. Someone asked a long time ago because for some Quack Pack humor and dynamics are reminiscent of Tiny Toons and Animaniacs, so I drew them together. Of course I drew in their new suits as they are all teenagers together, and took inspiration from some episodes of Tiny Toons and Animaniacs as well as taking inspiration from some fanarts who draw great Tiny Toons and Animaniacs characters. There are besides Huey, Dewey and Louie Duck, there is also Plucky Duck (who is angry at Huey Duck as well as Huey at him, yet the two of them have similar traits in part), Buster Bunny, Babs Bunny, Hampton Pig, Shirley the Loon, Fifi Le Fume and Warner siblings, Yakko, Wakko and Dot (Yakko is in a 90s tracksuit, Dot is wearing a dress, and Wakko is in a sleeveless shirt and Yakko and Wakko are holding Louie, and Louie is all cheerful). Some are happy and some are not. My only apology is that it turned out a little bad, yet for the first time to draw characters from Warner Bros. Also, although I prefer the original Animaniacs, their reboot doesn't look bad, the second season will be coming soon, and as for the Tiny Toons reboot, it will be good.

In addition to the crossover with Astro Boyd, this is another crossover that is outside of Disney and there may be more drawings like this if I have more free time. This is still my end for Quack Pack Week for this year and I hope for even better content than this and certainly this is the beginning for Duckvember in which I will participate for the first time. Thank you all and sorry for some mistakes and sorry for the long text. I hope to work on other franchises as well, not just Disney.

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diana-3 · 4 years ago

Text

Crow’s Nest.

Diana sighed as she climbed the last few stairs to Devrim’s perch. The Gentlemen Sniper pulled his rifle back inside the windowsill and turned, having earlier waved to Diana he smiled at her approach. “Ah,” His warm tone brought a smile to her face, “Di, hello dear, how are you?”

“I’m alright I guess..s’been a while...huh?” There was guilt layering her tone, like a child who was admitting to a wrong--ready for a scolding.

“Works kept you busy,” Devrim settled against the wall and his smile held, but his eyes turned downward and with it the mood lowered. “Seems as if the whole world is trying to burn around us.” He nodded to the radio on the shabby table with the teaset near by. “I’ve been keeping up on the radio chatter, you’ve been busy out toward the Tangled Shore lately?”

“Oh yeah,” Dianna removed her helmet and went to settle on the floor next to Devrim who glanced out the window. “There’s this new baddie, Xivu Arath? A hive celebrant...whatever that means...trying to corrupt Fal---Eliskni and Cabal into being Hive mind slaves. Causing a lot of trouble on the Shore and in the Dreaming City. Been working with Spider’s crew to get it cleaned up but its been weeks now.”

“A month yesterday,” Joel corrected as he appeared by Diana’s side. “I overheard Glint and Crow talking about it as we were walking away yesterday.”

“A month…” Diana repeated with weight behind her long sigh that followed. “Has it been that long already?”

“Between the constant crucible matches and vanguard operations to charge the lure, not to mention the individual hunts themselves, I’m not surprised we hadn’t realized.” Even Joel sounded exhausted, flying low until he settled in Diana’s hands as she crossed her legs and closed her eyes. “It’s been...hectic to say the least.”

“When was the last time you had any time off?” Devrim asked, raising a dark brow as he removed himself from the window completely now. Hanging his rifle on carefully placed hooks in the collapsing church to avoid accidental misfires. “You both look absolutely ragged.”

Diana hummed in thought. Her head slowly lulling from side to side before she spoke. “The Festival of the Lost?”

“Can’t really count that as time off when we were fixing the infinite forest…” Joel reminded her and she nodded.

“Soooo, before then?”

“My word,” Devrim’s shocked outburst made the tired guardian and her ghost both open their eyes and look at him. He was standing with his teapot in hand, “You’re going to need something a bit more strong than tea then to unwind.”

“You know what I want?” Diana chuckled softly, the fatigue showing through her defeated tone. “A nap. A nice, warm nap.”

“You’re more than welcome to come back to the farm,” Devrim offered, putting down his teapot and reaching for clean cups and saucers. “You could rant about anything bothering you until you can rest, or you’re free to do so after over a nice hot cup of tea.”

Diana smiled, watching the older man go through his motions to prepare his staple drink. The care he put into making it and the glance he gave her when he felt her stare. “Thanks,” She smiled back, “But,” She tapped Joel’s shell and woke the little Ghost from his quiet rest, his eye blinking open and his shell twitching in a stretch. “I think seeing Mythrax would just wind me back up again...remind me of everything going on on Europa.”

“Ah,” Devrim’s smile fell as he watched Joel take a lazy flight, hovering just above Diana’s shoulder as she climbed to her feet wearily. “Do you have somewhere else to stay then? I have no bed or blanket here, but I can offer great conversation and drink, a little light on snacks I’m afraid.”

“Actually…” Diana rubbed her head before her face and sighed, “I think there’s somewhere I want to...revisit. It’s not the Tower, but right now I’d rather avoid the tower if possible too…”

“Just seems like there's nowhere for us to go to get a rest away from everyone.” Joel admitted, his eye downcast as his shell shook side from side. “There's always someone looking for the next report, the next ship out, the next bounty to be taken…” He glanced at Diana who was lost in thought, her cyan eyes following the floorboard toward the window. When she slowly walked away to peer out Devrim’s window, Joel flew near Devrim and whispered. “She’s had a lot thrust onto her shoulders lately Devrim, I don’t know...I don’t know how to help her right now…”

“Is she alright?” Devrim asked, pretending to busy himself with cleaning his table as he waited for the water to boil.

“Physically she’s fine, she’s just so mentally worn out...A lot of old emotional wounds opened up…” Joel twitched in the air, flying a few degrees lower, “You’ve heard about Io, Mercury and Titan?”

“I had.” Devrim nodded, his face stern with thought. “She had friends on those planets didn’t she?”

“Yes, Asher Mir for one,” Joel shook his shell, “She’s still holding out hope that he’s in the Pyramidian, holding out. But no one’s heard from him...or Sloane and Vance...Then...we heard about Sagria…”

“Sagria?” Devrim whispered back, glancing over his shoulder to Diana, who was watching something out the window. “A guardian?”

“

A Ghost,” Joel corrected, “She was Osiris’ ghost...she sacrificed herself to save Osris from Xivu Arath’s influence...he’s Ghostless now...without the light...he’s taken refuge in the tower and asks Diana about how she and Crow--”

“Crow?” Devrim asked, raising a dark brow as he picked up the teapot and began pouring the tea into two cups. “Is that a guardian?”

“S-something like that…” Joel hesitated a tad too long and it drew a long and measured look from the marksman. “He’s a new guardian but...it’s part of the old emotional wounds opening up...that’s all I can say…”

“Mmhmm..” Devrim kept his stare on the little ghost who twitched and flew a few inches away.

“The less you know, the better.” Joel sighed.

“Wouldn’t happen to wear red pants...would this...Crow?” Devrim asked softly, glancing back at Diana who was still preoccupied with scanning the distance.

“You’ve seen him?!” Joel flew close to Devrim’s face, making the older man chuckle and straighten his back a bit.

“I’ve seen someone bustling around in the distance,” Devrim nodded with his head toward the direction of the dam, “He’s never come close though, and always seems to keep a hood up or a helmet on..I’ve never seen his face. Causing our girl some trouble is he?”

“He doesn’t mean to,” Joel said, “He’s new to everything and Di….she doesn’t know how to handle her feelings. He really reminds her of someone she’d rather forget, but at the same time she’s grown closer to him, and is having trouble letting go of that….resemblance.”

“Sounds messy,” Devrim picked up the cup and took a small sip to taste before nodding. “She needs a good rest, and time to herself away from everyone to let herself work through things. Is there a Hunter hideout where she might be able to take cover?”

“None that wouldn’t turn her over to Zavala to keep themselves from being called to the tower..” Joel had a hint of irritation in his voice, “We tried a few of the old spots, but some people have a sore spot for Di. Shaw hasn’t exactly warmed up to her and he’s made a name for himself in the cosmodrome. People think, that she thinks she’s too important, that she abandoned them in their greatest hour of need…And with the Hunters still without a leader...”

“Did they forget the part where the entire universe was at stake?” Devrim asked too loudly, drawing Diana’s tired attention finally from the window.

“Who knew the Cosmodrome was separate from our universe.” She had no mirth to her voice now, she seemed to shake slightly from side to side as she pushed away from the window and walked over to take the cup offered to her gingerly from Devrim. “Thanks…”

“I’m sorry that you’re dealing with so much,” Devrim put a gentle hand on Diana’s shoulder and squeezed it. A flicker in her eyes caught him off guard, was she going to cry? “I hope that the vanguard has at least given you some hefty time off to recoup after running you so ragged?”

“Hawthorne helped,” Joel said with a hint of pride, “When Diana was ready to just drop off the tower to get away from Zavala and Shaw, she spoke up and advocated for Diana to have a relief mission.”

“Tore into them did she?” Devrim chuckled warmly, “Ah, I can hear her now.”

“It was quite a sight,” Joel laughed, his shell squinting as he bobbed up, like a smile. “She wasn’t about to let Zavala just walk all over Diana.”

“M’ just too tired to fight anymore.” Diana admitted as she took a drink from the cup, taking a moment to shiver at the bitterness. “I wanna sleep for a week in a hole in the ground…” She paused…”Or...in a wall…” Her eyes widened slowly before she downed the rest of the cup, filled only half of the way before handing the cup back to Devrim. “If anyone asks,”

“I haven’t heard from you in months.” Devrim winked at her as he took her cup and replaced it on the table. “No idea where you could be. Haven't’ seen you in the EDZ in quite some time.” He turned and lifted his own teacup to her in salute, “I really should contact you via radio to come spend some time with this old man.” He could hear Diana and Joel speaking softly as he turned and sipped at his tea, trying not to listen to the quiet planning. He couldn’t help but hear.

“Are you sure you want to go there?” Joel was asking, concern filling his voice.

“Where else can we go right now? Unless you really wanna watch me dig a hole and bury ourselves.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this...but we could go to the Derlict?” Joel offered in a hushed tone, “Drifter would hide you for a while.”

“He’d also bug me to death for answers, or to get me into Gambit again…” Diana sighed heavily. Devrim kept himself turned around, studying the hand written notes from Marc laying on his desk, hidden out of direct sight behind the radio he used to listen to chatter, or talk to Suraya who was living in the Tower now. “No, I think it’ll be the one place no one, except one person would think to look…”

“Do you think he would?” Joel asked softly.

“No, his leash is too short right now. He might wonder to himself, maybe to Glint, but he won’t actually come looking. Which will give us all the time we need to rest.” Diana sounded sure of herself and her mind was made up. Wherever they were going, it was going to be a secret between them.

“It won’t be very comfortable,” Joel complained slightly.

“We can find a few ways to make it work.” Diana said a little more loudly, the time for private conversation over with. Devrim was refilling his cup, still pretending to be lost in his own little world when he felt two taps on his shoulder. He put down his cup and turned to receive the gentle hug Diana offered without thinking. “I’ll come by again soon Devrim, thank you for letting us rest and clear our head.”

“I don’t need to tell you that you are always welcome,” Devrim told her as he squeezed her, returning the hug. “But I will anyway, just so I’m sure you know. You can always come up here to hide out, and I won’t tell a soul if you don’t want me to.” He felt her start to pull away and he kept his hold until she leaned more heavily against him, allowing him to share her weight. “You be careful out there, hm?”

“Yes sir,” Diana’s chest vibrated with her voice, chuckling into his ear as she squeezed him back. “I’ll make sure to stop by for the dawning.” When Devrim pulled away she nodded, “I’ll remember the Shortbread cookies you love so much.”

“It pairs so well with my favorite festive tea,” Devrim sighed at the thought of such a comfort item. “It is getting around that time...isn’t it?”

“A few more weeks…” Diana nodded, “Hopefully I’ll get to feeling better before then. I’d like to go to the tower to see everyone…”

“Then you best get to it,” Devrim winked at her and grabbed a small bag from under his table, protected by a sheet that had hidden it from sight. “Here, take this, a self care package if you will.”

“Tea?” Diana laughed as she took the bag without looking at it.

“And a few biscuits and hot cocoa, some tripemines to set up a perimeter, clean water etcetera.” Devrim smiled as he poured a second cup for himself. “Little things that will help make the roughing it less...rough.”

“Thanks Devrim but shouldn’t you need this?” She asked, holding the bag up.

“Not for a while, I’m going on vacation too..of a sort. It’s Marc’s Rezzing day soon. We decided to go to Suraya in the city and spend time together. I’ll have all the comfort I need. And I can replenish my supplies.” Devrim watched as Diana nodded and looked toward the stairs. “Go on now, I won’t keep you any longer.” He turned his back and pretended to busy himself with the radio dial until a heavy baritone voice came over the waves.

“Thanks again…” Diana gave a small salute before disappearing over the ledge, not bothering with the stairs.

“It’s like they’re allergic to safety,” Devrim mused to himself, chuckling as he watched her go.

“Are you sure about this?” Joel asked as Diana picked her way over the rubble, careful to make sure that Devrim’s care package wouldn’t rip.

“Like I said, I’m out of ideas, unless you know of somewhere else we can go…’S not like we can go chill with Asher anymore…” She paused down the dimly lit corridor and sighed. “I miss him.”

“I know,” Joel touched his feckle to her cheek and accepted the loving caress she gave him that pinned him to her cheek gently. “I do too.”

“So this is the one place I can think of that...they won’t know to look and if they did think to look, I don’t think he’d tell.” Diana finished softly. She was outside the little alcove now and started to go inside but hesitated.

“What's wrong?” Joel asked, blinking his yellow cat eye and watching how she hesitated. It wasn’t like her.

“I should ask permission…” She said firmly. “This is the one place that’s his and his alone...if I were just to barge in here and use it without asking? I’d be taking that away from him, I’d be just as bad as Spider. We’re not that close...in reality. He might think...I’m overstepping boundaries if I don’t ask…” The heavy silence in the air didn’t last long before she asked, “Can you patch me into a secure line to him?”

“Just a moment.” Joel busied himself with twitching, extending his shell and rotating back and forth until the sound of static washed away and a familiar voice asked.

“Who is this?”

“Glint, it’s us. It’s secure right?” Joel asked, replacing his shell to its rightful shape. Diana noticed one of his cat ears was coming untapped and tried to push it back down in place, only to knock it off and make her gasp in both shock and sadness.

“Of course!” Glint’s voice perked up, “It’s the Guardian and her Ghost!”

“You can call me Joel,” Ghost reminded him, “And Di.”

“New news on Xivu Arath or some wrathborn? A new cryptolith?” Crow’s voice came over the coms and Joel watched Diana pause in her fussing over his shell.

“No,” Diana admitted after a moment of silence. “I’ve...I’ve been given some...a reprieve…” She said slowly, remembering once what Glint had said over coms after a hunt. “But I…” She paused again and the lights inside her mouth dimmed with a sigh. “Could I...Would it bother you if I...used your...nest, for a while?”

“It’s most certainly not a nest.” Crow said a little too quickly. Diana could practically hear the flush to his blue-grey face. “But...why? I thought you would have a place in the tower in the last city?”

“I do, but not everyone understands the need for...alone time.” Diana admitted.

“About your report, could you do this run for me, we should go out tonight, could you sit in on this mission debriefing, we need someone on coms for this vanguard operation, could you help me adjust my sights,” Joel started listening off all the things that had been asked of them when they had returned to the tower the last time. “It’s like it never ends. We used to go hide out on Io when things got like this…”

“I see.” Crow interjected before silence could fall and swallow them up. “You...need a place to breathe for a while. Of course, feel free. I’m...honored that I could help you this way...Guar--”

“Di.” Diana reminded.

“Di…” Crow’s voice was soft, like he was afraid of breaking her name should he say it with too much force. “I’m sorry it’s such a mess, I haven’t been out there in a while and Glint’s a terrible maid.”

“It’s not my fault you keep everything you find that has a little shine to it.” Glint said playfully, hinting at his name.

“It’s not exactly comfortable either, but it works...in a pinch.” Crow continued, ignoring Glint’s jest. “Use it as long as you like.”

“Thanks,” Diana smiled and looked inside the alcove at the small collection of crow’s things. “I owe you one.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Crow chuckled softly, “You could have used it and I never would have known. It’s not as if I’m in and out of there a lot these days.”

“Boundaries and Respect are important.” Diana told him firmly. “Guardians and good people a like do not trample over either…” She put a hand to her head and realized how much like Quin she sounded. She shook her metal head and continued. “Want me to get you some time off?” Diana asked as she stepped through the crack that served as the door. “You deserve it as much as I do.”

“Spider wouldn’t allow--”

“Spider won’t know the difference if I tell him I need you in the EDZ to track down Hive movement. Maybe they’re trying to set up a cryptolith here? Savathun did find that piece of the Traveler where we found the new Hawkmoon.”

“Not to mention we could give you a run through on being a Lightbearer. Guardian school if you will. More tips and tricks to make you more effective for Spider.” Joel added, his shell contracting in the way that made Diana say it looked like a smile.

“Time away from Spider,” Diana said in a singsong voice, “Nice hot fires under the stars, good drinks. Stories swapped.” She flopped down on the sleeping bag Crow had left on the concrete slab and regretted it, there was still a bit of debris under it and it hurt. “R and R is just as important to Guardians as it is to non-lightbearers.” She added with a grunt.

“That’s true...I just don’t think Spider would allow it.” Crow sounded defeated, tired and annoyed.

“Well, I am not going back to work for a bit….you think about it and when you want me to, I’ll talk to Spider.” Diana stood and rolled the sleeping bag up, watching how the dust and concrete of the collapsing ceiling was leaving a layer of dust on everything.

“Spider called him.” Glint said in a hushed tone, “I think some time off and not so alone would be good for him. He’s been obsessing over these Cryptoliths. He’s so sad to see the Eliskni that was good to him turn into...wrathborn…”

“He needs time away just as much as we do,” Joel sighed.

“It would be good for him, all he does is talk about work, and when he asks about Guardian things, he feels like such a stranger to it all. I think a fellow Guardian talking to him would make it feel more real, for now its just...stories of something he thinks he doesn’t deserve..” During the pause, Joel and Diana gave a look to one another. Sadness. Fatigue. Guilt. “I’ve been called by Spider, cutting the link. You two have a good rest.”

“Glint--” Joel started to speak but then hesitated. “The line’s dead.” He rotated to see Diana removing rubble from the concrete slab and cleaning it off with her hand. “This place really is a mess...huh?”

“He’s tried to make it his own…” Diana said softly. “It reminds me...of that cave in the Cosmodrome we had when we first started out...Remember?”

“Heh.” Joel floated closer and bobbed before rolling his shell over. “You kept Hive bones until you heard about Dredgen Yor, then you dumped them all over the cliffside and wanted nothing more to do with them.”

“Got rid of the dice I whittled too.” She nodded and replaced the sleeping bag, stretching it out to find it wouldn’t fit, the slab was too short. She glanced around the tiny alcove, at all of Crow’s belongings. A sleeping bag that had holes in it. A pristine Dawning bowl. His death shroud. A hive knight sword from when he save Osiris. A table and chair. A tool chest as tall as her and tools to fill it with. 8 things. He only owned 8 things. Yet the room told so much about him.

He was a repairer. Using things left over and forgotten to serve a new purpose. “It’s almost...poetic...or.” She laughed, “Ironic, whichever you wanna look at it...I guess…”

“What is?” Joel had floated off on his own, inspecting the crack in the wall that filtered in some sunlight from a room beyond the rubble.

“He takes things that are broken or forgotten. Things people don’t think twice about because to them it's used up and gives it new life...new purpose…” She picked up the bowl and placed it on the sleeping bag. “Like a guardian...we were just empty shells until you guys came along.” She smiled at Joel who twitched in silent thought. “You found me, an empty shell. Having used up all my life and been lost to time and the elements and you gave me a purpose. You brought new life into me and told me what I could do to help those around me.” She picked up his death shroud and frowned. “Uldren was a cold hearted bastard of a person.” Her grip tightened on the cloth before she sighed heavily.

“He paid his price. Blood for blood. Eye for an Eye. The debt for Cayde was settled. I know his tapes said he’d be…” She started folding the shroud gently. “Crow was a shell that was tossed away. People were trying to forget...or avoid remembering for the time. Including myself...And Glint gave him new life and purpose. He’s a guardian now. He’s not who he was before. And now he takes things Spider tries to throw away or has forgotten about and makes them into new things.” When the shroud was folded into the shape of a flag, she placed it into the bowl and busied herself cleaning off the slab where it had been placed haphazardly. “He’s just like a Ghost that way. A repairman. An artist..” She recalled the art form he had mentioned before when she saw his nest the first time. “He mentioned an artform with precious metals...do you know what it's called?”

“I hadn’t when he first mentioned it, but I talked to Zavala’s ghost and he knew what it was called, apparently it's called Kintsugi, or kintsukuroi, it’s a Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. It treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise.” He paused for a moment and flew a little lower, “Oh, I see what you mean.”

Diana straightened up the room in silence for a while. Dusting everything with her hands as best she could and being as gentle as possible. It didn’t take her long to clean up the room, tossing out the debris into the hall. She looked around and realized it wasn’t cleaning she wanted to do.

“I wanna do something nice for him.” She said out loud, throwing out a fist sized piece of concrete into the hall. “And I don’t mean dusting.” Joel was flying around the room and scanning the area, inspecting the walls and ceiling.

“He doesn’t have a lot does he?” he asked as he came down to her height. “We could get a few things for him.”

“Yeah..spruce the place up a bit...he deserves better than this but…” She glanced at the shroud sticking up from the bowl where she had placed it. “Baby steps.”

“What do you think he would like?” Joel asked.

“Anything is better than this…” she glanced at the mop bucket in the corner, and cringed. “We could get him a sturdy cot to sleep on. A better sleeping bag…” She looked back to his area and tilted her head, “Another table, a chair...we could clear these slabs out.” She kicked at the one he had been using for a bed. “Hang that sword up.” She pointed to the sword as it was propped up against the wall, waiting to topple over. “And a heater…”

“A heater?” Joel asked, spinning back to watch her as she nodded.

“It’ll be snowing soon. If he’s gonna get time off and come stay, then he’s gonna need heat...and some food that won’t spoil…” Her faceplates shifted to show irritation. “The boy doesn’t even have the basic necessities to live on his own. He won’t be under Spider’s four thumbs forever.”

“You think he’s going to let Crow go eventually?” Joel didn’t sound convinced, but when Diana settled her cyan eyes on him, he knew that look. He’d seen it before the battle against Crota...Oryx...Gaul and the darkness. It was what he called her ‘try me’ look.

“Oh he will. And we’re getting that bomb outta Glint too.” She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “Glint doesn’t deserve that treatment, and neither does Crow. The boys are literally as pure as new fallen snow, and Crow’s as green as Venus.”

“I remember when Leland used to say the same about you,” Joel offered softly, flying close to her chest, his sign he wanted to be held in her hands. She obliged him, cradling him gently and stroking his feckle lovingly.

“I’m not gonna comment on that,” she chuckled and planted a kiss on her Ghost’s shell. Going to sit on the sleeping bag. “I guess this means we’re going back to the city after all.”

“What are we gonna tell people who ask what we’re doing?” Joel twitched his shell so he was looking up at Di from her hands she stared longingly at the Dawning bowl.

“That we’re helping out a kinderguardian. They’re new and scared to come to the city. Or that I’m literally burying myself in a hole and making a fuck off bunker so people will leave me alone for once.” She stopped and blinked, “By the light, I sound like Osris now.”

“I like the second one better,” Joel laughed, “It sounds more like you than Osiris.”

Both of them laughed, their voices bouncing off the three and a half walls until it sounded like it would drown all their sorrows. They hadn’t laughed like that in a while. It made Diana sad to realize this. She tried not to look at it, but it was like a living thing staring at her. The death shroud. One of the triangle corners was peeking up from the bowl and taunting her until she stared at it.

“I’m not...weird am I?” She asked Joel, still staring at the white cloth.

“Is that a question you want me to answer honestly, or be serious?” Joel asked with mirth still in his voice.

“No, I mean…” Diana’s tone made Joel twitch in her hands, bringing her attention to him. “I know I didn’t remember anything, not a thing when you brought me back. But you said I’d been dead a long time...I’ve never…” She trailed off and looked toward the floor. “I’ve never run into anyone who recognized me before. But Uldren...he…” She sighed. “He killed dad...I know I said Crow was different and he IS but…” she made a clicking noise. “Sometimes when it gets quiet, and I see him, I can still SEE Uldren there. Does that make me a bad person?” She looked to Joel sadly. “Am I a horrible person because I sometimes still see him inside someone who's new? If Crow didn’t have the same meatsuit...if he’d been changed into an Exo like me when he was first brought back...I woulda never known….I wouldn’t be...questioning myself like this.” She looked to the shroud again. “He’d just be a new guardian. A fellow exo. A nice guy...But I find myself wanting to reach out to him. Be...more than kind to him. To be someone for him and then that moment happens when I don’t see Crow, I see…and then I feel like I’m betraying Dad’s memory by being chummy with the meatsuit that killed my leader...”

“I could tell,” Joel admitted softly, speaking in barely a whisper, as if afraid the truth would cause the ground to swallow them up. “When you two are having a good talk and it gets quiet, I see the way you look at him. It’s kindness and then fear, mixed with guilt.” He twitched again and the eye blinked. The other ear was starting to come loose and Diana peeled it off with a gentle hand. “You’re trying so hard to not hold him accountable for a crime you know Crow didn’t commit. But it’s still the same face. It’s still the same hand.” he blinked again, “It’s a situation I don’t think any other guardian has ever had to face like this before.” Only a heartbeat passed before he added. “I don’t think it makes you a bad person, I think you’re struggling with a situation that no one else has ever had to be in before and you’re doing a lot better than others who have seen his face.” He flew up from her hands and hovered a little ways from her face.

“You loved Cayde like a father, and he was taken from you by someone you didn’t particularly care for when you knew him. Now that person is no more, but their body is still up walking around with someone new inside...sorta. It’s like that pottery thing, he has his scars. His past is part of him, but he has a new life and a new outlook.” he tilted his shell toward the ground. “Uldren hated Guardians, he tried to make our life hell when we had to deal with the awoken. But,” he titled his shell upward and squinched himself into a smile, “I’ve seen Crow absolutely light up when you walk in a room. He’s excited to see you, to work with you. If that’s not proof he’s totally different then I dunno what would be.”

When she didn’t respond he bonked her on the forehead with his feckle and made her blink at him in bewilderment. “Others have outright killed Crow when they saw his face. You didn’t.”

“I tried…” She put a hand on the spot where he hit her. “If Quin hadn’t stopped me...I would have put a bullet in him.”

“Are you glad she stopped you?” Joel asked firmly.

“Yes?” she sounded unsure, when Joel tightened his shell around him she felt like he was glaring at her so she repeated with conviction. “....Yes. I am.”

“Would you put a bullet in him now?” Joel’s voice was hard, he was trying to test her resolve. He already knew he answer, he just needed her to know it.

“No, absolutely not, I’d...” She paused and remembered her fight with Hunter-1, they still hadn’t spoken since they introduced Crow to him. When he tried to murder Crow, even after learning he was a guardian and Uldren no more. Quin had ushered Crow to safety while Diana wrestled with the fellow Exo. He hadn’t looked at her the same since. On Wrathborn hunts he wouldn’t watch her back anymore, and he would ignore her when she spoke to him. “I’d fight those who would try...”

“Then you’re already leaps and bounds ahead of others.” Joel told her with a flip. “And the fact you want to give him what he needs to survive on his own, until he can be accepted as Crow and not as Uldren, shows you have compassion for him.” He tilted his shell halfway, like he was being coy. “And do not think for one millisecond I haven’t seen you smile at him with that same look you used to give Drifter either missy.”

“I. Give. No. Looks.” Diana’s voice was low, gravely, she was willing to die on this hill.

“And I wasn’t born in the Light.” Joel gave a small hummpf sound before flying out of the crack, forcing Diana to follow along behind him if she wanted to argue.

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thebibliomancer · 4 years ago

Text

Essential Avengers: Marvel Super Heroes Secret Wars #7-9

November, 1984

BERSERKER!

The death of an Avenger! The X-Men’s greatest battle! And, introducing the all-new SPIDER-WOMAN!

The cover sure isn’t burying the lede. This comic sure does introduce an All-New (presumably All-Different) Spider-Woman! Jessica Drew, move over! For now. You’ll be the Spider-Woman that endures in the long run.

Last times on Secret Wars: Some amazingly powerful being from Beyond the universe called the Beyonder kidnaps a bunch of heroes, villains, shades thereof, and chunks of random planets to put on a big toy commercial where action figures can bonk off each other.

The X-Men ditched the other heroes to do their own thing, as they’re wont to do. The villains storm the hero base and drop a mountain on them. The heroes take refuge at a small village where Johnny Storm finds a new girlfriend but there’s also a Galactus.

Galactus starts preparing a device to eat Battleworld, which would let him win the toy commercial in one fell swoop.

Oh, and Wasp was kidnapped by Magneto, escaped, crashed her escape ship, found the Lizard, and then got lasered to death by the Wrecking Crew. It was a Bad Time and I am sad, even though we know Wasp will be okay by the time they get back from Battleworld.

This time: Further not burying the lede.

The cover promised a new Spider-Woman and dammit, here’s one right away, first page. Truth in advertising!

Spider-Woman herself wastes no time introducing herself to everyone, that she comes from a chunk of Denver that got raptured by the Beyonder (still want that miniseries), that she came to help when she saw evidence of super fighting, and that she can pick up and throw large rocks so clearly she’d be able to help.

Captain America is hesitant about all this and Spider-Woman assumes that he thinks she’s a spy but as Captain America points out, why would Doom need to mess around with spies when he’s got so much power at his disposal.

Spider-Man is also hesitant at this new character. For different reasons.

Spider-Man: “She tossed that boulder as easily as I could have... at least! I wonder if she sticks to walls, too! And I wonder if I can sue her for infringing on my shticks! I should have gotten a patent or trademark or something...”

Cap tries to settle on the argument that a Secret War is too dangerous but Spider-Woman has the exceptional point “I suspect that it’s no less dangerous for the spectators, Captain America -- I might as well pitch in!”

And then the obvious toy pitch vehicle that the Wrecking Crew was driving in the swamp yesterday drives through the village blowing shit up, restarting the fires that the heroes just put out, and most insultingly of all, throwing Wasp van Dyne’s dead deceased corpse out the hatch before driving off.

Those dicks.

The heroes rush to Wasp and take her to Zsaji. That cool lady tries to heal Wasp but Jan has no pulse and isn’t breathing and might be beyond Cura. This may take Phoenix Down.

But since she went and got herself disintegrated on the Moon, Wasp is clearly dead forever.

-Looks over at Avengers #243- Hush, you!

The assembled heroes want to rush Doombase and kick the shit out of the villains and specifically the Wrecking Crew but Captain America tells them no.

Captain America: “Now, listen to me -- ! While we’re off getting even, what if Galactus starts to use that world-eating machine he’s building up on that mountain? Then every living thing on this world -- including these innocent villagers and all those people from that suburb of Denver will die! We’ve got to stay right here, ready to attack him! We may have only seconds to react when it begins!”

She-Hulk storms off while the other heroes debate the Galactus situation.

I’m sure this is fine.

Meanwhile, on the more volcano-y side of the planet, Xavier orders Cyclops, Rogue, and Wolverine to pursue Doom’s Four villains Molecule Man, Titania, Absorbing Man, and Doctor Octopus to try to capture them before they can return to Doom.

Back over at Doombase, Titania sees that her “little Owie” has been badly hurt and begs Enchantress to help.

Volcana: “Enchantress! You’re a sorceress! You could use your magic to transport me to my Owen!”

Enchantress -busy getting drunk-: “Yes... but why would I, mortal?”

Volcana: “Well... because... because I need you to! I can’t fly a ship! I -- I don’t even have a driver’s license for a car! Ultron won’t help me -- ! He only takes orders from Doom!”

Enchantress: “It takes much energy to transport a body as bloated as yours! I cannot be bothered!”

Wow! You’re a dick!

Volcana catches a lot of fat jokes and she’s not depicted as looking any different from Standard Comic Book Body Type. But also, don’t fatshame at all, Enchantress.

Anyway, Volcana promises anything to Enchantress if she helps.

Enchantress: “Rash words, mortal wench... and later, you shall deeply regret them!”

Its very handy for the villains that Volcana just showed up because their airship almost immediately gets show down by the X-Men. So even with Molecule Man out of commission, their numbers are back to Doom’s Four. And Volcana calls dibs on beating up Wolverine.

The X-Men have numbers but they’re not doing super well. Professor X is on the scene trying to be the field leader but the chaos of the battle and the villains’ minds being blocked by Enchantress’ magic makes it hard for him to coordinate.

Magneto even gets smack-talked by Absorbing Man.

Absorbing Man: “Tell me, Magneto. What’s scum like you doin’ hangin’ around with the X-Men? Sure, they’re outlaws -- but I thought you was big time! You got mass murder raps, manslaughter, terrorism, what else? Probably everything! You’re one of us! On second thought, a creampuff like you belongs with them losers!”

I can’t believe Magneto has to take that from a man who constantly carries a large metal orb with him everywhere.

Wolverine manages to slice off Absorbing Man’s arm, although the guy was made of rock at the time so it wasn’t as gory as it could have been.

Absorbing Man just. Picks up his arm and runs off to hit someone with it.

Amazing.

The villains manage to pin down the heroes with some Volcana blast and then steal one of the X-Men’s ships and get away.

Professor X declares that this is Totally a victory.

Xavier: “We lost nothing, save one of our ships -- which matters little -- and we gained much! We coalesced as a fighting unit passing our greatest test to date and I think we proved ourselves -- beyond a doubt!”

Like, you had a scuffle with some villains that ended inconclusively even though you had the advantage of a sneak attack, the villains stole one of your ships, and there was no major damage to either side.

It was largely pointless. But I guess Xavier has a vested interest in declaring it a huge success since it was his inaugural go at being field commander.

Meanwhile, skulking around Galactus’ ship, DOOM complains about doing that.

Doom: “Doctor Doom - a burglar! Rummaging about in another being’s home, seeking to steal some priceless thing! Bah! What choice do I have? I need a key, a way -- ! My armor’s sensors have led me to prize after prize -- hundreds, thousands of devices which, in the hands of a man as brilliant as myself could provide power to conquer entire galaxies -- ! Yet, all of them combined are not enough to defeat Galactus -- let alone the Beyonder! There must be a way! Doom must be supreme!”

Unfortunately for Doom, despite the volcano distraction making Galactus sigh and have to spend time fixing the planet so he can eat it, he senses something amiss in his house and mentally yeets Doom back to Battleworld.

The villains return back to Doombase but Doctor Octopus can’t help Molecule Man because dammit he’s a nuclear physicist, not a medical doctor! Ultron tells Volcana that there are medical devices that could fix Molecule Man up nicely but since he doesn’t have any relevant orders from Doom, he’s just going to stand here and look pretty. And Enchantress says she could heal him with a wave of her hand but refuses to because Volcana already gave her a blank check.

Absorbing Man returns and reattaches his arm by basically hoping like hell it’ll just be better if he holds it in place when he reverts to skin flesh.

And the Wrecking Crew have to throw the Lizard into a cell because he hasn’t stopped trying to eat their faces for killing Wasp, his new best friend.

The Wrecking Crew doesn’t get a chance to enjoy being back at base because She-Hulk has broken in and beats the crap out of them off-screen.

Titania comes in and starts fighting She-Hulk STARTING AN ENDURING RIVALRY.

Its fun how much got its start in Secret Wars.

The two fight more or less evenly from what I can tell but uh Doctor Octopus joins in as does the Absorbing Man and the Wrecking Crew once they catch their breath.

And She-Hulk is strong but this is a stomp.

In another part of Doombase where the Enchantress is sitting in “sullen reverie” refusing to get involved in the fight she can here, instead thinking about how much she’s going to seduce the crap out of Thor.

Doom arrives at Himbase after being expelled from Galactus’ ship and refuses to explain anything to Enchantress. He just stumbles over to his sweet bed and collapses in it.

Doom: “It is over... Finished...”

Back over at Zsaji’s Village, the heroes realize that She-Hulk took off. Hawkeye figures that she went after the villains and asks to go after her.

Hawkeye: “She can’t take ‘em alone, Cap! She needs us!”

Huh! When the chips are down even though they fought, Clint and Jen sure are coworkers.

Hulk also asks to go after her since she’s his cousin. The acknowledgement of which is what I’ve been wanting all along.

But Cap tells them no.

Hulk: “I don’t suppose you’d consider putting it to a vote?”

Trying to appeal to his love of democracy. How wily.

Captain America: “My heart would vote ‘yes’ in a minute... Too many innocent lives are at stake here, though! Many more than the few people on this planet -- we’ve got a universe depending on what we do here! We can’t allow ourselves the luxury of making decisions with our hearts!”

But Cap receives a psychic skype from Professor X who tells him that the X-Men can take Galactus watching duty for a bit so run along and save your teammate, you scamp.

Cap accepts.

Its fun how the tide of battle has shifted back and forth.

Now the heroes are largely fresh, having been sitting on their ass staring at Galactus, and the villains are bloodied from several fights with the X-Men and She-Hulk. Plus, their big gun Molecule Man got Wolverine’d.

But next issue is something so big that it overshadows basically everything else in Secret Wars.

December, 1984

INVASION!

YEAH ITS VENOM

OR WILL BE

Also, a bunch of other stuff happens. The cover is kind of funny for maybe unintentionally presaging what would happen where the black costume being more remembered than everything else in Secret Wars in general but definitely this issue specifically.

There’s actually a lot of really cool stuff happening in this issue.

Cap(tain America)’s group of heroes storms Doom’s Doombase, lucking out that Doom is too stunned by being expelled from Galactus’ ship to attempt any kind of defense and nobody else on his team has the braincells to be watching out for an attack.

Enchantress hears the heroes breaking in but she’s well and truly drunk by this point.

And bemoans her secret god meeting with Thor. That she was going to try to cast a spell on him to bend him to her will but is aware that she might have flipped good for him instead. And even now wonders what she’ll do if Thor shows up in front of her.

The villains still beating She-Hulk to her death hear the heroes breaking into the base and run off to ambush them, Doc Ock slamming She-Hulk against some wreckage as a coup de grace.

Wrecker gets the jump on Iron Man and Doc Ock dumps a convenient tank of water on Human Torch but Spider-Man jumps in and drops Bulldozer with one punch before he can pulp an extinguished Johnny.

The Thing tries fighting Absorbing Man but wouldn’t you know it, the Thing’s thingness fades at the worst time again, leaving him powerless.

Spider-Woman jumps in to save him.

She didn’t get to really do much in her actual introductory issue, despite being on the cover and splash. She just kinda shows up and goes ‘i can definitely help!’

She makes a much better second impression this time. Almost like she’s aware that she needs to sell herself.

Spider-Woman: “A clean knockout -- ! Of the awesome Absorbing Man -- ! And it’s only the fifth time I’ve ever been in a fight! The new Spider-Woman wins again!”

Marvel really wants you to like this non-Jessica Drew.

Piledriver charges Hawkeye, mocking him for missing with his arrows and gloating that arrows are useless to a guy who’s immune to bullets.

Piledriver: “Hawkeye the Archer! Hah! Boy you gonna need Hawkeye the M.A.S.H. doctor in a minute -- ‘cause I reckon this good ol’ boy is gonna ‘mash’ you!”

Good one, Piledriver. Good banter.

Hawkeye: “Those shots were just warnings, dummy! I don’t want to have to hit you! From my bow, at this range, an arrow hits a lot harder than any bullet! Back off... please...”

We did learn in the Hawkeye mini that Hawkeye’s bow has a ridiculous draw strength.

This is a pretty good Hawkeye moment people don’t really point to a lot.

Also, I do love when an invincible or durable person who isn’t used to getting hurt gets hurt once and goes ‘NOPE! I DO NOT CARE FOR THIS!’

Hulk busts into Enchantress’ drinking room and unfortunately falls for her “I am but a helpless female!” routine. She gets all up in his business, magically puts him to sleep, and then pours herself another drink.

It could have been a good day for Enchantress if Captain America hadn’t come in right after.

Captain America: “What have you done to the Hulk?”

Enchantress: “For the moment, he is merely asleep. Doubtless dreaming dreams of me! But, alas, he can never truly have me, for I am yours, my handsome captain! Am I not beautiful? Come to me...”

Points for audacity but Captain America is a champion of not thinking with his dick. Blah blah willpower is legendary, socked Prometheus in the noggin. You get it.

Anyway, he socks Enchantress in the noggin with his shield and knocks her out.

Hawkeye and unthinged Ben try to find the rest of the heroes but run into Klaw and Lizard, who Klaw let out of his cell because he didn’t like to see anyone imprisoned but also because he liked the way Lizard talks. What an audiophile.

Ben Grimm: “Uh... any ideas, Hawk?”

Hawkeye: “Well... I guess we’ll have to outwit ‘em!”

Ben Grimm: “Us?!”

Hah.

Thor, Iron Man, Spider-Woman, and Mr Fantastic find Volcana and Molecule Man.

Iron Man makes the dubious tactical decision to charge right into Volcana’s plasma burst and burns out his armor.

Mr Fantastic pulls him out of the way and the other heroes try to get through Molecule Man’s fused air molecules invisible shield. They fail until Captain Marvel just lightbeams right through it. Because its transparent.

Love it. Love that her power works like that. Because it should.

Captain Marvel grabbing Molecule Man pulls open his Wolverine wounds and he passes out. Volcana surrenders to spare her boyfriend more pain.

Not that Monica intended that or knew he was wounded. This is still early Monica before Nextwave hardened her outlook. This is the Monica who was horrified when Blackout and Moonstone got pulled through a singularity.

Titania tried to drop a forty-ton beam on the heroes’ heads but is interrupted by Spider-Man thanks to his spectacular spider-sense.

She out-muscles him by a lot but she can’t actually lay a hit on him because he’s got superior spider agility. Maybe if she had more experience it’d be different but she’s basically in the angry flailing stage of her skill tree so far.

Spidey brags “With a little room to operate, no one can lay a glove on me -- not the X-Men, not the Absorbing Man, and not you!”

Titania: “When I get you I’ll -- AGGH!”

Spider-Man: “All you’re going to get is frustrated... and, eventually, trashed!”

Titania: “No! It’s not fair! *UHH!*”

Spider-Man: “But, if we were fighting in a broom closet, that’d be fair, right?”

Titania: “Stop it! Stop it! Stop -- !”

Spider-Man: “You ought to be happy, cuddles! You aspired to be a bully, and, man, you’re a classic! You talk tough and nasty when you’ve got the upper hand -- but when you’re losing -- well, that’s when the whining little wimp-ette inside comes spilling out!”

And then he defenestrates her without a window.

Fun fact: she apparently developed a Spider-Man phobia from this.

Understandably.

Y’know, in terms of embarrassing and traumatizing people, Spider-Man is having a good run in this story.

Captain American and Human Torch find a passed out Piledriver who fainted from blood loss after staggering away. And they find Ultron, standing between them and Doom.

Ultron is an Avengers-tier stomper who takes down entire teams and there’s just two heroes who coincidentally were both portrayed by Chris Evans. And the Human Torch’s fire is ineffective as Ultron gloats.

Ultron: “The core of the hottest star could not melt my adamantium body, human! Nothing can harm me! I am invincible! I am mechanically precise and computer-swift! I am perfect!”

When Ultron grapples Human Torch and starts throttling him, Cap tells him to use his nova-flame. Then hides behind his shield.

The flame melts a good portion of the room and the air being superheated somehow doesn’t make Cap crispy. And when the nova flare of the nova flame fades, Ultron’s chassis is still intact.

But the heat damaged something inside and Ultron is down. Johnny is also down, spent from the nova.

I like that the Fantastic Four would have their own way to deal with Ultron should that ever come up. Has it? You’d think it would.

Captain America proceeds to Doom alone but Doom is non-responsive from being Galactus’d.

And Reed, Spider-Man, and Hulk finds Hawkeye and Ben Grimm, where they have outwitted Klaw and Lizard.

Lizard: “Disssturb our gamess-s and the Lizard will dessstroy you! Once we finissh, we will do as you s-ssay!”

Well, whatever works!

With the fighting done, Captain Marvel finds She-Hulk, barely alive. The heroes jam her into a healing tube saving her in the nick of time.

The heroes also jam the villains into healing tubes because they’re heroes and are nice like that.

Considering the heroes were fighting to take prisoners and the villains very much weren’t, it’s lucky that the heroes won the majority of conflicts and got away from the one they didn’t.

The villains that didn’t need bacta treatments - or whatever is in those tubes - got shoved into cells. Also, Doom, because he might need the healing juice but it would require peeling him out of his armor and its probably booby-trapped.

Hawkeye and Captain Marvel return to the village to bring Wasp’s body to DoomHerobase for a funeral but they’re in for a surprise.

It turns out that Zsaji WAS able to heal Wasp who wasn’t dead just in a laser-induced death-like stasis. AS YA DO. It nearly killed Zsaji to bring Wasp back from such grievous injuries.

Colossus learns this by getting into her exposition drugs while she’s passed out and mind-melding with her.

Of course, it just makes the big lug fall deeper in love with her.

The important takeaway is that Wasp is alive. Just like we knew that she would be. The universe has been set right.

Over at Herobase, Reed Richards fixes the Iron Man armor after Rhodey got it a little melted.

Iron Man, James Rhodes: “I’m curious... were you surprised there was a black man under the metal?”

Reed Richards: “Hmm... No, I never gave it a thought! I knew there was a man under there...”

Its a nice exchange.

Its kinda ruined retroactively by Illuminati revealing that Reed knew Tony was Iron Man and would have known about Tony having to step down due to his alcoholism and likely knew about Rhodey taking over.

Dammit, Illuminati!

Elsewhere in the base, Spider-Man spots Hulk and Thor coming out of a room with Thor sporting a brand new cape and helmet. They tell Spidey that there’s a device in there that will make any clothes you want.

Except Spider-Man doesn’t bother asking which device and they don’t bother specifying so Spidey just picks the likeliest one and gets a black glob.

An important black glob.

To eventually be revealed to be an alien goo symbiote and later eventually tied to a dark god that predates the universe.

But for right now, its a way to incorporate a new costume design that a fan submitted. And Spider-Man handwaves it not looking like his old costume by assuming he was thinking of the new Spider-Woman.

So that’s how it is, Pete? She ‘ripped’ you off so you’re gonna rip her off?

You know whats really funny?

A month before this came out, in Spider-Man’s own book, he had learned that the costume was a living symbiote and had gotten rid of it.

It be like that with Secret Wars but its still funny that we’re finally seeing him get the costume just as he’s getting rid of it.

Anyway, Spider-Man’s new costume buzz is interrupted by the planet shaking and someone yelling in his brain.

Professor X: “CAPTAIN AMERICA! COME AT ONCE! IT HAS BEGUN! GALACTUS IS DEVOURING THE PLANET!”

It’s nice that the crises are waiting their turn.

January, 1985

ASSAULT ON GALACTUS!

The issue titles for this story are all so excited.

The X-Men were left on Galactus watching duty so when the big lug starts trying to eat the planet, the X-Men charge in to attack him.

Hm.

Y’know, I sometimes wonder what iconic storylines would have been like if a different set of characters handled it. This used to be great What If fodder. I know there was one where the Avengers tackled Galactus’ first appearance. And because it was the tone of What If at the time to viciously shoot down any divergence of the 616 timeline, THINGS WENT HORRIBLY WRONG.

Think of it like the Turn Left episode of Doctor Who.

POINT BEING, I wonder how the X-Men would have handled Galactus’ first appearance. Of course, this would be the O5 roster so they’d have their work cut out for them.

Heck, even with Storm on the team, the X-Men are over their heads with Galactus.

She hits him with two massive lightning bolts and Galactus keeps working like he didn’t even notice.

The X-Men seem to realize how out of their depth they are (especially sans Phoenixes, their usual Galactus-fighting go-to) but at Professor Xavier’s command they charge in anyway.

Galactus sends out a defensive drone so he can continue not paying the X-Men any mind and the mutants find themselves completely bogged down in fighting the drone while Galactus does his thing.

And from Zsaji’s sweet village, Captain Marvel, Wasp, and Hawkeye see a massive explosion where the X-Men were.

I guess they’re totally dead forever.

Wasp: “Should we head up there now?”

Hawkeye: “No! We’d better wait for Cap... and strike as a unit!”

Hah.

Its the expression, really. Like Hawkeye thinking to himself ‘oh I want no part of that.’

The non-X-Men assemble at Herobase to rush to the fight.

Mr. Fantastic: “Hurry! No telling how long the X-Men can hold out!”

Spider-Man: “Yeah! Where’s the rest of the alphabet when you need it?”

HAH!

Oh, Spider-Man, you are a delight.

In the airship over, Thor notices that Hulk looks glum and tries to cheer him up.

Thor: “If ‘tis that you do not fit in these chairs that depresses you, count yourself fortunate! They were made, I think, for insect men... or by trolls, for torture! If ‘tis the impending battle troubling thee -- just think! What greater chance for glory has man or god e’er known? More even than Ragnarok, this is the battle I was born millennia ago to fight! You, too, are a warrior born, Hulk! A taste of battle and the berserker battle-lust shall rise in thy soul!”

Hulk: “I doubt it! I lost that when I gained the intelligence of my human side -- Bruce Banner! And now I’m slowly losing that, too! I’m not savage enough... or smart enough to be a relevant factor!”

Well, You Tried, Thor.

Johnny Torch is trying to cheer up Ben Grimm who is as grim as his name over his powers popping in and out as they please.

And then the rocks pop back on just as Ben is dramatically bemoaning that he can’t control them.

The Thing: “Whoopie! I’m the Thing again! I’m so happy, I even like you!”

Human Torch: “Yeow! You lummox! Put me down! Jeez, I can see the headlines -- ‘affectionate hug slays Human Torch en route to battle -- universe destroyed as a result’!’“

This book has some decent lines.

Iron Man ogles Spider-Woman under the pretense of not trusting her but then goes a little ‘I’ll show them all!’

Iron Man: “A lot of guys have worked with Iron Man before -- but that was when Tony Stark was in this suit! I think they’ve started to realize there’s a different guy in here, now... an’ they got their doubts! They’re keepin’ their distance -- don’t quite trust me yet! Don’t matter! As long as I got this armor, I’m one ba-ad dude -- especially since Richards souped it up! As soon as that fight starts, I’ll show ‘em -- show ‘em I’m Iron Man! The real Iron Man! James Rhodes is Iron Man -- now and forever!”

Rhodey pls.

Also meanwhile, because this is a long flight, Spider-Man starts hopping all around the interior of the airship overexcited because he’s just discovered that the totally benign goo suit he got has webshooters!

And he squirts Johnny in the face to prove it because that’s just how Spider-Man is sometimes.

Johnny complains that this webbing is even harder to burn than his old stuff which will turn itself into a bit of a plot hole down the line when its revealed that symbiotes are weak to fire.

Whoops.

Its fine though. Pre-modern Venom has always had sloppy writing around it.

He also demonstrates the goo suit’s ability to change shape.

I can’t believe that Marvel were cowards and never had Peter go around in the Summer Variant suit.

Reed lets himself go down a melancholic musing rabbit hole and starts poking holes in the story logic.

Mr. Fantastic: “At face value, the whole thing is absurd! Why would a being so far removed from us and so powerful as the Beyonder bring us across the universe for a stupid, simplistic ‘good-versus-evil’ gladiatorial contest? Is he a mad god? A cosmic idiot? And why us? Why this odd collection of beings, mostly from Earth? And why Galactus? He doesn’t fit! Human beings and even gods may be tempted, but Galactus is a force of nature -- no more capable of having enemies than a hurricane or an earthquake! Why is he here? There must be more to this... but what possible purpose could there be?”

Credit where its due, these are things I’ve been wondering!

But Reed is so busy pondering this that he runs the airship into the energy discharge from Galactus’ machine and crashes the ship on top of Colossus.

Smooth move, absent minded professor.

With only seconds before the world starts to burn, the Avengers, Fantastic Four, and assorted leap into battle against Galactus.

Iron Man manages to get past Galactus’ defense drones and punch his world eating engine, thanks to the upgrades done to the armor.

But now that they’re being successful, Reed interjects and tells them to stop winning so hard. Yes, really.

Mr. Fantastic: “Ben, we can’t go through with this! At last I see a purpose here -- a meaning to the universe for this insane conflict! WE MUST NOT STOP GALACTUS!’

Then Galactus effortlessly blasts the heroes away.

Which, if nothing else, gives Reed a chance to catch his breath to EXPOSIT MORE.

Mr. Fantastic: “For the first time this whole thing makes seom sense to me! I see a possible purpose in it! This is a chance to rid our universe of the threat of Galactus! All we have to do is let him win this contest! If the Beyonder indeed, grants hsi wish, he’ll be freed of his planet-consuming hunger at long last!”

The Thing: “And if the Beyonder reneges?”

Mr. Fantastic: “Re-energized by consuming this world, Galactuc will attack -- I know it! And force the Beyonder to pay up -- or be destroyed in the attempt. Any way you look at it... the universe wins! Countless billions who would have eventually fallen prey to Galactus -- will live in peace!”

Spider-Man: “Yeah, but why us? Why were we picked to decide the fate of the universe?”

Mr. Fantastic: “Why not us? We picked ourselves, remember? Besides... we beings of Earth seem to have a knack for being pivotal in the cosmic scheme of things.”

Reed, some offense but you’re the last person who should be speaking on this.

Galactus is only alive now because you had a hunch that he had some Big Important Role in the cosmic order and saved his life.

You may remember that because THE ENTIRETY OF SPACE PUT YOU ON TRIAL FOR IT.

Turning around on that because now you have a different hunch that everything will be a-okay if the Beyonder kills Galactus, is just such a classic Reed move.

Anyway, the discussion ends because Galactus raptures Reed and the entire mountaintop his machine was sitting on.

Since the suspects of Reed rapturing were Galactus or the Beyonder, its not very surprising that its Galactus forcibly inviting Reed up to his solar-system sized apartment.

What, you thought that the Beyonder would be more present in this story that it initiated? Fool.

Anyway, Galactus wants to have a friendly talk at Reed. Because Galactus is one of the few people that can talk down at Reed and he just has to sit tight and listen.

Meanwhile, over at the former Doombase, locked in a Doomcell, its Doom. Still in his catatonia OR IS IT?

Doom: “THE WORLD SHIP IS THE WAY! Galactus’s home itself is the way I seek! At last, I see!”

He activates the get-out-of-jail-free button hidden in his ankle which activates a point-singularity power supply that busts the door off his cell.

He ignores all of the other imprisoned villains to free Klaw.

Doom: “You, yourself, Klaw, are a ‘recording’ of sorts, due to the time you spent as a wave of vibratory energy coursing through the walls of Galactus’s homeworld! Come with me!”

Klaw: “Where to? Toodle-oo, toodle-oo!”

Doom: “To the lab! I’m going to dissect you!”

Klaw: “Oh, good!”

If it were anyone else that would read as sarcastic.

Its also revealed that Doom talks to himself because he is constantly recording.

Doom: “Every utterance of Doom must be recorded for posterity!”

How on-brand.

Meanwhile, back over at where the fight was, Cyclops OPTIC BLASTS out of the hole Magneto buried the X-Men in to save them from Galactus’ exploding drone.

Good job, Magneto.

Buuut. The fight is over so the X-Men just vaguely wander over to Zsaji’s village to catch up with Captain America’s group.

Zsaji wakes up from her Wasp-healing coma and runs over... right past Colossus to embrace Johnny. To make Colossus sad in the background.

But Johnny is too worried about Reed being raptured to make out with his new space girlfriend right now.

The heroes debate what to do.

Cap(tain America) wants to just stand ready until Galactus comes back and Cap(tain Marvel) suggests finding some spaceships at former Doombase and mounting an assault on Galactus’ imagination-ruiningly huge homeship.

The Thing offers the daring option of ‘hey Reed said not to fight Galactus and dangit what Reed says goes!’

He’s as bad as the Inhumans, I swear.

Reed reappears right about when Iron Man and the Thing are about to come to blows over the ‘do whatever Reed says’ plan.

The Thing: “Stretch! What happened?”

Mr. Fantastic: “Not much! We had tea...”

NOW I KNOW that Galactus likely has some robot servant or device that makes tea for him. But I can’t get the image out of my head of Galactus holding a tiny teapot and serving Reed tea.

How dare this comic cut away and let that happen off-panel!

Anyway, their big OFF-PANEL talk?

Mr. Fantastic: “He told me that I was a ‘force of the universe’ just as he is -- ! That I’m a ‘universal champion of life’ just as he is an instrument of death!”

Now. Nooooow. Champion slash Avatar of Life is a legitimate thing in Marvel, once filled by, uh, Captain Marvel. The Kree guy version. So the position is open.

I just find it easier to believe that Galactus was saying random nonsense to try to befuddle Reed into doing what Galactus wants rather than it being official.

The Avatar of Life page on marvel wiki doesn’t seem to credit it. It only has two versions of Adam Warlock, Drax, and Cancerverse Mar-Vell.

Anyway.

Mr. Fantastic: “I don’t what to say! I’m more convinced than ever that it’s right to let Galactus do what he must! And if I’m a ‘Champion of Life’ does it not make sense to allow Galactus to slay us so that countless billions will live? Or was he telling me that I must fight to serve even these relatively few lives here? I just don’t know...”

Yeeeeah. More convinced than ever that Galactus was filling Reed’s brain with cognitive chaff so to speak.

But Ben “Thing” Grimm is like ‘hey if Reed tells me I gotta die for the good of the universe then I’m ready to die so we’re not fighting unless Reed says so.’

Hawkeye: “This is a real crock! We’ve got to fight! Quitters! Cowards!”

I rarely say this but I think Hawkeye has a point.

Anyway, Galactus reappears the mountaintop, his machine, and himself to get back to snacking on the planet.

Far be it from me to tell Galactus how to ‘mortals are beneath my notice’ but maybe he’d get better results relocating his machine to the other side of the planet. Get some element of surprise, a head start.

No? Fine.

Captain America: “All right, listen up! I’m going to fight! The rest of you come or not as your conscience dictates!”

Wasp: “We’re with you, Cap!”

Captain America: “Good! But first... I just want to tell you, Professor Xavier, that despite our differences, you and your people did us -- and the universe, as far as I’m concerned -- a great service, earlier!”

Professor Xavier: “It was an honor!”

Captain America: “I hope you, the X-Men... and Magneto will come and fight side by side with us now! No one here will deny you’ve earned that much!”

Think about all the grief that could have been saved if people were willing to give Magneto the benefit of the doubt at the beginning of the story! Womp womp!

Meanwhile at Doombase (because the heroes are all off doing stuff and when the heroes are away Doom gets his base back), Doom observes the battle against Galactus starting AND that the Beyonder has cracked open his portal to watch the fight.

But more importantly, Doom cut Klaw into slices.

Back over at the heroes fighting Galactus, the heroes are fighting Galactus.

As in, directly. No drones.

Its a sign that they’re making some sort of progress.

He’s still batting them around like leaves in the wind.

But the Terrific Three show up to actually help.

Mr. Fantastic: “Galactus used enormous amounts of energy transporting his homeworld here -- and I’m sure he hasn’t fed for months! His power is almost depleted! We can take him!”

Captain America: “Richards, I -- I’m glad you’re here -- but what made you change your mind?”

Mr. Fantastic: “I... thought about what Galactus said -- and I’m still not certain that, in the cosmic scheme of things, what we’re doing is right -- but I realized just how badly I want to see my baby born, Cap! I want that more than anything -- ! And I’m going to fight for it!”

Aww.

He’s going to be waiting a long time for that baby though.

Not because of comic book time but because of intense drama reasons.

The heroes manage to reach the top of the mountain and start trashing Galactus’ machine despite Reed insisting that they ignore it and prevent Galactus from escaping.

And Galactus just animation-cell-slides-up ‘I must return to my homeworld’ style.

And as Reed explains how badly they done fucked up, Galactus takes a last look around his homeworld/spaceship. Because he doesn’t need his machine to eat planets. It just makes the process more efficient. So if the heroes are going to be annoying about him eating Battleworld, he’s just going to eat his own dang home!

Mr. Fantastic: “He’s devouring his own living world -- perhaps the greatest energy source in the universe! Moments after he’s finished, this godforsaken planet will be next! We won’t be able to stop him this time! Then he’ll probably consume the sun too! He’ll want every iota of energy available in case he must do battle with the Beyonder! We’re dead men!”

Wow. Is that the most kirby krackle we’ve ever seen?

But as Galactus converts his home into POWER COSMIC, Doom is ready with his own plan to steal that power, aided by a series of lenses he’s turned Klaw into.

As ya do?

You’ll have to tune in to the last quarter of Secret Wars to see if Doom succeeds in doing that thing that he always tries to do.

My thought is: maybe.

Follow @essential-avengers for the good job I’m doing with these Secret Warses. Like and reblog maybe.

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ask-them-bois · 4 years ago

Text

A King and His Solider, part 3/3

TW: Blood, Violence, Minor Character Death

“Come on, you punk bitch!” The fuchsia snarled as their fist connected with Makeno’s jaw, sending the violet stumbling into the brick wall of a dead end alley. “What was it you were saying about my face? Say it again!”

Makeno hissed, his fins flared as his royal hue dribbled out of his nose and split lips. He spat blood on the ground and pushed himself back to his feet, wiping his face on the back of his hand.

“Fay, he’s not worth it.” A watching blueblood complained, looking bored.

“No! Not even my quadmates get away with disrespecting me! What the fuck did you say, Maky?”

“I said you’ve got a mug not even a lusus could love. Apparently you’ve got underdeveloped hearing ducts, too.” Makeno snarled. He drew himself up, stepping closer; with blood on his face and his razor teeth, he was far more intimidating than the others, and he knew it.

“I could have you culled for that, violet! Remember your place!” Fay shoved him, hard enough that he tripped and fell on his ass. “You belong under me!”

“Do it! Call the fucking drones!” Makeno shouted up at him, his vision going red, “Call the goddamn Fleet! See if I fear god, let alone some pissant soldiers! My only place is standing above your grave, you bubblegum bitch!”

He threw himself upwards, lunging for the fuchsia’s belt. In one swift motion, he tore a needle knife off their belt and surged towards their face. He swung his arm in an arch, and felt as the blade connected.

The fuchsia reeled back with a shriek, clutching the deep, jagged wound that cut across his lips and neck.

“Dude’s fucking crazy! Let’s get the fuck out of here!” One of the onlookers shouted. The group of highbloods took off, and the fuchsia stumbled after them.

He paused at the mouth of the alleyway and looked back, pink oozing between their fingers. “We’re over, Makeno. You’re an unlovable monster. I tried to save you, but you’re hopeless. I’m the only one who could ever stand you- I love you, Makeno, I really do, but… You’re too horrible for anyone to love.”

Makeno only bared his teeth, throwing the knife aside. With a hiss, he tore off his leather jacket, too, the gold-and-red scorpion-shaped patch on the back scuffed from his fall. “That’s what I fucking thought, Fayroe; run away, you cowardly piece of shit.” His voice rose as their back disappeared around the corner, “Run away! I don’t need you anyway! I don’t need anyone!”

***

“Mngh… fuck.” Makeno raised his head, blinking blearily at the walls of his recuperacoon. Through the hatch, he could hear his alarm beeping shrilly. Slime dripped off of him as he slowly sat up, rubbing his face tiredly. He frowned down at himself, the last remnants of his dream slipping away from him. One hand hesitantly traced the tattoo of bubbles on his chest; for a moment, they felt important again, but exactly why escaped him.

“Ken-ken?” A sleepy voice beside him mumbled. Looking down, Makeno’s expression softened into a gentle smile; on his left, their leg still thrown over Makeno’s, was his morail. Corden gazed up at him with half-open eyes, face slack with sleep.

“It’s okay, Cordy. I gotta go to work now.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the goldblood’s forehead.

“Nooo… Stay.” Corden rolled over and hooked his arm around Makeno’s waist, pressing his face into the violet’s thigh. “I need you more than work does.”

Makeno opened his mouth to respond, when a second pair of arms looped around his waist from his right; looking over, he saw his also-half-asleep husband had chosen to cling to him, too.

All three of them had curled up in Makeno’s more-than-big-enough recuperacoon for the day, sandwiching the violetblood in the middle.

Makeno sighed softly, running a hand through both trolls’ hair, smearing slime through them. “Guys, I can’t just blow off work.”

“Yeah you can, you own the place. Just text ‘em.” Corden mumbled.

“No, I really can’t. I’m covering for Vrasil- he had to take his mate to the medicalhive yesterday after they broke their foot.” Makeno said gently, before he began untangling the entrapment of limbs.

He reached up and opened the hatch, making his quads recoil into the warm slime as cold air rushed in. Chuckling, Makeno turned and kissed his husband, papping his morail’s cheek as he hauled himself up.

He clambered out of the recuperacoon and headed to the washblock, remembering to turn off his alarm on the way. A quick shower, and he returned to his respiteblock to find Corden was sitting on his sleepingplank, reattaching his robotic arm. At least the gold had been nice enough to wipe the slime off himself before sitting on Makeno’s clean sheets, the seadweller thought, amused.

“Ken-ken?” His morail asked as Makeno rummaged for clothes.

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure you can’t stay? I… after what Zeruki said-”

“Cordy, it’ll be okay. I heard the warning. I’ve stayed home for three nights, if he was going to break in to see me he would have done it by now. The restaurant is a twenty minute walk away, I’ll get someone to drive me home if I need to. I can’t leave my team to deal with everything themselves, can I?”

“No… But…”

Makeno paused and turned to his morail. “But?”

“But I’m scared!” Corden burst out. With a quick glance at the recuperacoon, he lowered his voice, “You’re married now, Ken. How do you think he’ll react when he finds out? He’ll go nuts! He could go after Ferris, after our friends- what if he tries to get you back into the Empire’s-”

“Cordy.” Makeno buttoned his pants- a pair of bright red jeans with a garishly teal, plaid pattern- and approached his morail. He sat beside him, taking both his hands in his own. “It’s gonna be okay, alright? F…” He steeled himself and forced the name out between clenched teeth, “Fayroe is a monster; I have no intention of ever speaking to him again. I’d rather spend a week with Almawt.” He curled his lip, and that made Corden giggle.

“Musrio’s not so bad, you know. You just don’t like him because he kicked your ass.”

“It was unprovoked!” Makeno said defensively.

“He said not to touch him. And you touched him.” Corden blinked, unsympathetic.

Makeno looked away, his fins flushing. “At least you made friends with his mate and not him.”

“That’s ‘cause Drayco’s cool.” Corden shrugged.

“Drayco’s great.” Makeno agreed, “But- ugh, their matesprit is… less than fun.” He sighed, raising Corden’s hands to his face. He kissed the knuckles on both hands, before releasing them and standing up. “I gotta finish getting ready.”

Corden’s smile fell slowly, and he nodded, sighing.

In five minutes, Makeno had a shirt on, his hair was slicked back, and he had his keys, wallet, and palmhusk in his pockets. He ate quickly, getting his shoes on between gulps of coffee. Finally, he adjusted the band on his finger and headed for the door.

A hand touched his as he opened the door. Looking back, he saw Corden gazing up at him pensively.

“Be safe.” The gold robot whispered.

“I will. You be good, okay?”

He pulled his hand away and slipped out the door.

***

Lurking was not one of his favorite activities, but he supposed that’s what he was doing, as a scumblood bled out behind him; their last words gurgled in their throat, unheard by his flawless fins. He wiped his knife clean with a silk handkerchief, and slid it back into his belt loop, before looking towards the structure across the street.

The restaurant was certainly pretty, they thought; Makeno had put a lot of work into it. A building made of marble and silver, with neatly trimmed rose bushes and tinted glass windows.

Above the ornate doors, a pair of sirens wrapped around one another in an embrace, their tails swirling around in opposite directions; they were seated on a large, flat stone, their faces hidden in one another’s shoulders. Below them, written upon the stone in lights, was “The Siren’s Rock,” the name of Makeno’s proud establishment.

He stood, gazing up at the building; it sat on a street corner like a place of worship. They scowled, crossing their arms across their chest; a place of worship! “Ha!” They said aloud, “As if he’s the one deserving any sort of praise.”

As they watched, a pair of quadmates walked inside, hand in hand and laughing together. He ran his tongue across his teeth in thought, scowling; their laughter needled into his earfins and made him hiss.

A snuffling in his pocket made him look down; in the pocket of their leather jacket, barely a sweep old, was their best friend. He smiled, reached down to run a hand through her fur as she poked her head out of the pocket to look around.

“Oh, her majesty wishes to see? Wants to take a little looky?” They purred, scooping the rabbit out and cradling it close to his chest. “What say you, your majesty? Should we go see our dear Maky? We do miss him, don’t we? Yes.”

He gently scratched under the rabbit’s chin, looking up at the building again; how dare he make a place so lovely. How dare he move on, when they hadn’t. They shivered as their own claws traced the tattooed line of bubbles that streamed upwards, from his hip to his belly. He dug his nails in, as if to pop them, and felt warmth drip around his clawtips.

Chuckling, he withdrew his claws and wiped his hand clean on the kerchief again. With a nod, they gently set the rabbit back in their pocket, making sure she was comfortable.

As they moved to cross the road, however, their fins suddenly flared. With reflexes faster than most, they whirled, a needle-like knife practically appearing in his hand as he spun. He raised it in time to block the thin, saber-like blade that was swinging for his head.

“Oh! So it is true, darling? Marvelous!”

He froze, his eyes following the sword backwards. The pommel was shaped like a flaming bird, gripped in a green-gloved hand. Following the arm- there was an arm, it was attached to a body, as they usually were, until he got ahold of them- he found the face.

Oh, no, that was not someone he wanted. Not here, not near him, not on his planet. Curling his lip, he stepped back, deflecting their sword to the side. Smiling to herself, the newcomer sheathed the blade, into a white cane.

“Who are you?” They demanded, twirling the blade between their fingers. “I- we do not want you here. You are nothing.”

“Nothing? That’s rude, isn’t it?” The oliveblood tipped his head- too far, they thought with alarm- too far to be normal. They were not normal- like him? He had to wonder. But no one was like him! He was the pinnacle! The greatest and best! But they spoke his language. He tipped his head, too.

“You’re nothing to me.” They corrected, a wavering, strained smile rippling across their face. “Who are you?”

The oliveblood had the good graces to bow low- as he should. “Hello, Fayroe Fallen. My name is Oliver Maddel, and I think it’s time the two of us have a talk.”

#a king and his solider #part 3 #long post #very long post #minor character death #blood #violence #makeno faslet #corden blalit #oliver maddel #fayroe fallen #clown fish #aquatic robotic #backstory stuff #new troll

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chasingthepoguelife · 4 years ago

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Lonely Boys Do Stupid Things Part 1

Lonely boys do stupid things Part 1

(gif credits to @rafecameron)

Summary: Rafe is tired of an already boring summer, constantly being judged by everyone on the island, and is looking for a challenge. When the group is introduced to the new girl hanging out with Kiara, Topper suggests a challenge and Rafe accepts only to be conflicted along the way.

Author’s: So in this world Rafe is still a bad guy, just not a “I killed a cop and have all these daddy issues” bad, Topper hasn’t developed yet, and also John B hasn’t dragged anyone into his stupid shit and there is a civil ground between kooks and pogues and Ward isn’t a “I love two out my three children and murdered my friend” dad. For reference, I do not support Rafe’s canon character. I’m just blinded by the attraction I feel for him and I love Drew, but will never condone or excuse Rafe’s actions. Also, I’m not writing y/n with many descriptions. I know all types of people might read this and I want to make everyone feel included but I also don’t want to do it the wrong way so I’m leaving a lot of physical features up to the reader’s imagination. I would also accept tips and constructive criticism to be more of an inclusive writer.

Warning: For part 1 I don’t think there is anything.

Another summer week has come and passed for the kooks of Figure Eight. The Cameron kids made quite the headlines last year, Sarah dating a boy from the Cut, and the eldest Rafe Cameron, having to save one of his father’s many businesses after almost running it to the ground. The chatter and nosiness of other Figure Eight residents died down in the winter, but they always stick their noses in the Cameron’s business around summer time. Rafe awaited the month of September where he could escape to the mainland again, but after only two weeks down, and what felt like two years, he had no idea how he would survive the next six weeks.

“Come on get up!” Rafe heard with a pillow meeting his face. He looked over at his clock, 1:30pm, and was greeted with Sarah hovering over his night stand.

“Sarah, I have no desire to go anywhere except for the kitchen, “Rafe groaned.

“I’m not going to let you wither away like a pathetic sap. Get your bathing suit on and head outside. We’re meeting John B and Kiara, even your friends bothered to tag along.”

“Why do you have to make things even more fucked than they already are?” Rafe questioned.

“If John B and I can move around the island and shut down the lonely gossiping housewives, then you can get on a boat!”

After Rafe groaned and didn’t move for ten minutes, Sarah had to come back in to make sure he was alive and moving.

“Five minutes Rafe!” Sarah yelled, pulling off his comforter.

After fifteen minutes, Rafe managed to get himself dressed and meet his sister and John B on their father’s boat. Ward had suggested they take the boat for a joy ride, all day, wherever they wanted. A year ago, Rafe’s blood would’ve boiled at the thought of a pogue being so close, but things have changed. He actually admires how John B lives his life, not caring what other people think, although he’d rather choke before admitting he looks up to a younger pogue.

“Ok so Rafe’s a sad sack that barley moves and John B as your girlfriend I automatically make the rules so we’re heading south to meet Kie for the day. I’m going to sail so you two make nice and enjoy the ride,” Sarah demanded.

As Sarah started the boat’s engine, the group heard screaming, looking up towards the Cameron house, seeing a tall blonde boy in a pink polo, running like his life depended on it.

“You- said- 215pm- Sarah!” the boy gasped out of breath.

“No Topper, I’m pretty sure I said 2,” Sarah said sarcastically.

After almost a year, Sarah is still playing jokes on her ex- boyfriend and brother for the way they treated John B and his friends.

“Rafe boy, you tired of me already?” Topper laughed.

“Obviously, look at my new best friend here,” Rafe pointed to John B.

“I’m going to get us beers if this is how the whole ride is going to be,” John B said.

“You tired of us already Rafey?” Topper joked.

“I’m always tired of you and Kelce,” Rafe laughed.

“You know he’s on some better path spiritual shit this summer, giving up booze?” Topper said in disbelief (A/N: in season 2 I want better for Kelce as in he deserves better friends)

“It has to be better than this. I don’t want to deal with everyone’s judgmental shit so I keep a low profile, and all that’s got me is a boat ride with my sister and John B, and to see more pogues!”

Rafe and Topper have become more tolerant of the residents of the Cut, but no doubt they wake up every morning still thinking they’re a gift to this planet.

“I don’t know if I can handle another 6 weeks of this shit, I’m going insane!” Rafe yelled.

“I’m sure we will find something to fill those weeks. If we go looking long enough, something fun will fall in our lap,” Topper smirked.

John B had come back with drinks for the group, actually engaging in civil conversation with his girlfriend’s ex and her loopy brother. The boys have adjusted to this civil relationship, something Figure Eight residents loved to gossip about. Not too long after, the kook boys started to see that they would be arriving shortly after passing Heywards, marking their entrance into pogue world. Rafe will never admit it, but the pogue he hates the most is Pope Heyward. He hates how hardworking and smart he is, how his father would do anything for him, but more so how he has an entire group of friends ready to drop everything to help him. Topper is his good friend, but there’s no way he’d do half the things John B and JJ do for Pope.

“There’s Kie on her dad’s boat,” Sarah pointed out. “I’m going to anchor down close to hers and we can figure it out from there.”

As Sarah found a good place to drop the anchor, everyone on the boat could here Kie and another voice mixing of loud laughter. Kie was running around on the boat deck as another girl the group had never seen before followed behind her. Surprised by the presence of unknown person, the group couldn’t help but stare.

“Kie!” Sarah waved enthusiastically. The one good thing out of last year’s madness was that Sarah got her childhood best friend back. Kie and the unknown girl started making their way onto the Druthers as it is bigger than Kie’s boat. Everyone watched the girls make their way on, especially Rafe. He wasn’t sure what to make of this girl, but he definitely noticed her long legs climbing onto the boat and that’s when he thought, what else she was capable of doing with legs that long. His thoughts were interrupted as he heard a new voice.

“I’m y/n”, she said as everyone stared.

“Nice to meet you, y/n, I’m John B, this is Sarah, that’s Topper, and that last one is Rafe.”

As y/n took in the new people in front of her, Topper noticed how her eyes kept lingering on Rafe.

“Kie, are you going to tell us about your new gorgeous friend?” Topper smirked.

“No, she won’t, but I will!” y/n chimed in.

“Well obviously I’m y/n. I’m 18 years old. I’m new to the Outer Banks. My dad had to move us out here for a business deal that he’s got going with Kiara’s dad, I have a 14-year-old brother, and at any time you can either find me in the water or looking for snacks.”

“Where do you live y/n”? John B asked.

“Not too far. My parents managed to find a cute little house in the Marigold neighborhood. (A/N: I made this location up) Everyone except Kie stopped in their tracks. The group although already divided, had nothing to do with the residents of Marigold. Anyone in that area of the island was neither a pogue nor a kook. They really had no identity as they were not rich enough to be kooks but not poor enough to be a pogue from the Cut. Most people living there are Marigold born and raised, considered to be more of an outcast than pogues. The rest of the island didn’t know how to label Marigolds. There wasn’t enough money to buy a yacht, but you could still eat enough everyday and rest your head on a comfortable big bed every night.

An awkward silence lingered in the group that no one knew how to break. Kie pulled y/n by the arm and explained.

“Y/n I told you, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with where you live, but on this island, everyone is classist and territorial. You’re better off saying you’re from my neighborhood to make it easier for you.”

“This group is already messed up, what’s one more thing to stir the pot? Welcome to the group y/n!” John B cheered.

As the tension cleared in the group, the sun came out in full force. Sarah steered the Druthers further out into the ocean for a nice swim. The music began bumping, drinks were passed around, and y/n felt like she knew the group for years. After a few hours, the only ones who needed a break were Topper and Rafe. The two climbed back onto the boat to rest.

“So, for a Marigold this new girl seems decent?” Topper questioned.

“She’s alright, just not for me. The last thing I need on top of all this other shit is for me to be seen around the island with a girl like that. The Figure Eight would have a field day.”

“Maybe that’s it,” Topper smirked. “This is something you’ve never experienced before. It would be a challenge. She’s not the worst thing to look at, you could have some fun with her.”

“Top if I really wanted to, I could have my pick of any pogue or kook chick in my bed like yesterday,” Rafe boasted.

“No man, hear me out. You have 6 weeks left. I challenge you to make her head over heels for you in that time. It will give you something to do, you’ll get some and then poof you leave for the mainland. By the time you see her again she’ll be over it. Plus, she seemed to focus on you a bit longer back at the docks so she probably already has a thing for youI get why we had to change with the pogues but at least they know where they stand. This girl thought she’d move here and live like she’s the main character of a tv show but it’s only going to cause more problems, “Topper shared his concerns.

Rafe had to pause for a moment. Last year he would’ve said yes right away, but lately he’s been finding himself questioning his morals and values, thinking if he behaved more the gossip would stop. It would be wrong to mess with someone like this, but he is bored after all, and he doesn’t want to look like a pussy in front of Topper. He looked out into the ocean watching her swim so happily amongst the waves.

“This is going to be the easiest thing I’ve ever done,” Rafe declared.

#rafe cameron #drew starkey #pope heyward #kiara carrera #john b #sarah cameron #Outer Banks #obx #topper thornton

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martellthemandalor · 4 years ago

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Assistance - Chapter 6

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader (No Y/N, reader is nicknamed)

Warnings: swearing, bombs/explosions, angst

Rating: 15

Word count: 5k+

Summary: Mando asks something he shouldn’t and things get explosive.

A/N: this chapter has taken me a while to write but i’m glad i took my time on it, its possibly one of my favourite chapters so far!! As always i love reading your comments and all reblogs help, so don’t be a stranger :))

Masterlist

You awoke to soft light streaming through the cracks in the ceiling, hazy beams of light criss-crossing above your head. The day ahead was going to be another long day of walking and one sided talking, so you were contented to take this moment of rest to watch the dust specks dance lazily in the rays of light. It was only dawn, but the temperature inside the barn had already risen considerably compared the cool temperament of last night.

You rolled onto your side and peered across at the sleeping Tin Can. He was laying stock still on his back, one hand draped across his stomach. The only indication that your companion was still alive was the visibly steady rise and fall of it. You dropped your head back onto the firm stems beneath your body, starting to regret choosing such uneven bedding. A nest seemed so cosy at the time but the uneven lumps of your stack were prominent, even under the thick blankets. You just knew that the minute you tried to get up your body would be stiff and unforgiving.

You lay there a few minutes more, slowly gearing up for the long day ahead. Sighing, you finally gathered the will to move, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and pushing yourself up and out. The second you straightened up you felt it, the tightness across yours muscles in your back and extending into your legs. Well isn’t this just perfect? You glanced at the sleeping pile of Beskar, thankfully his visor was fixed looking straight up.

You let out a quiet breath, thankful he was still asleep. While the flimsy fabric of your base clothes weren’t see through, you were still anxious to get your armour back on before he wakes up. At this rate however that wouldn’t happen unless you sorted out your damn back first.

Keeping an eye on your assistant you lay on your stomach, placed your hands under your shoulders and pushed up against the cold floor, raising just your upper body. Your hips dug uncomfortably into the solid and somewhat cracked surface beneath you, but the instant relief that spread from your spine as it arched back was worth it. Holding there you closed your eyes, letting your breathing shift to natural deep breaths.

Then you rocked backward, letting your legs fold underneath you, hands stretched in front of you. It was the final stretch you needed. You felt your body release all the tension from your back and legs in a long, blissful wave. You rested your forehead against the ground, letting the rough texture press against your soft skin.

There’s always something.

You’ve never been completely relaxed, there’s always been something standing in way. More often than not it was the adrenaline that surged through your veins when hunting, though admittedly you loved the feeling. Sometimes it’s the quiet anxiety that you are being followed or something more physical such as an uncomfortable bed. Even now as you settled completely into this position, the coarse texture beneath you was preventing true relaxation.

The soft clanging of metal against metal drew you out of your mind. You sat back onto your heels and before you even looked in his direction you could feel the usual weight of his stare.

It was different to you now though, the familiarity behind the pressure of it remained for sure but it was like something had…shifted. You felt even more vulnerable and exposed without your armour than usual and the urge to talk yourself out rose fast, falling back on your only working distraction.

“I should have followed your lead and chosen a bail, my kriffing pile left me stiff.” The words fell carefully from your mouth. A confident tone helping detract attention from the way your brows had pulled together and the extra tension in your limbs. You let your body go through the motions of replacing your armour, talking all the while. “Thank god this dirt ball of a planet has cool nights, I don’t know how I would survive if I had to sleep in the maker-forsaken heat of the day. Did you sleep well? I can’t imagine sleeping in that armour is exactly comfortable.”

You caught yourself there, replaying the events of last night. The images you were trying so hard to repress flew vividly across your mind. How close he was, how wordlessly he helped and how hesitant he was to touch you. How part of you wanted him to do it again. You cleared your throat, pushing the thoughts down. Say something.

“Thank you for last night, I’m sure my back would have been a lot worse if I’d slept with everything on.”

He didn’t stop observing you, not for a moment, just sat there motionless with his visor fixed on you. You managed to replace the last piece of your armour under his unwavering gaze, finally feeling yourself again.

“Your shoulder feeling better then?” He asked simply, helmet tilting somewhat. In all honesty you’d forgotten about the shoulder, it hadn’t hurt during your stretches, but as you probed at it now you could feel the dull pain of it under the plate of armour. You shrugged at him.

“I guess so. I can move it and lift shit apparently, it’s just when I touch it.”

“Don’t touch it then.”

“Ah yes thank you doctor,” You returned, rolling your eyes at him. At a glance you thought you caught his chest and shoulders shaking slightly for a moment. Did he just laugh? You try to meet his stare. The second your eyes met the dark glass of his visor however, his helmet swung away from you, his attention suddenly drawn to his rummaging through his bag. Great. Does he feel it to?

“Anyway, I think there’s only another day and a half’s journey before we reach the quarry, that’s if we keep up the pace of yesterday of course. I’m going to go and ask the owners if we can refill our water from their reserves and you will be taking one of them this time.” You began to pack up your things, folding away blankets and neatly placing your tool kit into your bag.

You talked the whole time, not really caring if he was listening. It was natural to you, speaking into the silence like this. It made things easier, a distraction from whatever menial task you were doing and it wasn’t long before you were packed and ready to leave.

“You ready then?” You asked the Mandalorian, although the answer was clear as Naboo waters. He stood silently stoic by the knotted wooden doors of the barn, pulse rifle and bag secure on his frame.

You had no idea how long he’d been waiting for you, he’d made no attempt to interrupt your chatter and hurry you along. It didn’t surprise you. In fact a part of you preferred it, silence doesn’t cause complications. A curt nod of his helmet offered his confirmation. “Okay, let’s get these pouches filled and we can get off.”

The family had been more than happy to let you fill the bladders. They even sent you off with fresh Gratham grain bread, which you thanked them for, along with the kind offer of the barn, with a charming and brightly-smiled façade.

You had waited until you were long out of view of the farm before you let the disarming upturn of your lips drop. Hunger was gnawing it your stomach, a steady and dull ache that only got worse once you remembered there was actual warm bread waiting beneath the wraps of fabric in your hand. Glancing across at the Mandalorian you could see him cradling his own small package, holding it with the same reverence as you in a gentle grip.

You swore you weren’t going to eat until he could. It just wouldn’t be right to make him watch again, but the reverence of that vow was waning. With every passing second you could feel the gentle heat seeping through the bandages and onto your fingertips, fuelling your hunger.

“I bet you’ve seen some weird planets during your hunts. I think the weirdest I’ve seen would have to be Felucia. It’s mostly made up of this awful humid jungle, but the colours of it are just exquisite. The organic life is 90% these various fungi plants, like nothing you’ve ever seen I guarantee,” You said. You were hoping that if you spoke enough it would be a sufficient distraction from the gentle ache in your belly.

“What I really like about it though is what lies deep in the remote areas of the planet. Scattered across the ground and hung from trees are battle remnants from the clone wars itself. Seriously, there were untouched chunks of armour and destroyed weapons everywhere. My quarry had hidden themselves inside the trunk of this big-“

“Why do you do that?” His rough voice suddenly asks, interrupting your spiel. You turned your head to him, only to find he wasn’t even looking at you. His visor was fixed dead ahead, leaving you to watch your own distorted reflection in the dull shine of the helmets beskar.

You clocked your drawn in brows, lips pressed together and wandered when your face had changed so dramatically. You were normally so guarded in your expressions, or so you thought. You needed to fix that. The wrong expression could easily get you killed in this job.

“Why do I do what?” You tilted your head at him slightly, eyes flicking between your reflection, bathed in residual red tones of the world around you, and the path ahead of you.

“You talk a lot, but you never say anything. It’s confusing.” He replied steadily. Still he didn’t look at you.

The Mandalorian was trying to figure you out. Reading people is essential for bounty hunting, know how a person thinks and it’s ten times easier to track them down, predict their next move. It’s also vital for knowing who to trust and who will betray him first chance they get, especially now that the guild are after him. You were perplexing to him, almost impossible to read. Usually someone who talks so much give away at least a little bit of who they are, you however disclose nothing. At all.

You looked away from him. Of course you knew what he meant.

Maker, how could he be so intense without even looking at you?

It was there again, that feeling, and right now it was pulling on something in you to tell him. Actually tell him. What was wrong with you? You hoped it was the steadily rising heat from the unobstructed sun that was making your palms damp and your thoughts swirl like this. Maybe you were getting solarstroke again?

You reached for your water and took a long swig.

You glanced over at him again. This time your eyes were met by the inky pool of his visor. The black of it looked almost soulless in this vicious sunlight, and it took that invisible pressure of his stare to remind you that he was still very much alive under there. Still with you.

Kriffing maker alive.

You sighed, running a hand down your face. Pressing your tongue into your cheek you took another look at the emotionless giant next to you, a breathy chuckle escaping your lips.

“Okay, you really want to know?” You ask, quirking a brow at him.

He nods, the tilt of his helmet catching a particularly bright ray that flashes painfully into your eyes. You squint and blink away the temporary soreness. You’d expected him to have looked away from you again, but as your eyes refocused you saw he still was fixated on your face.

“Talking gives me power, the more I talk the more I can command a room. Talking allows me to change a mind, to intimidate a bounty, to disguise myself from a target. Most simply though? It allows me to be seen,” You run your hand through your hair, beginning to regret opening your mouth this time.

“You can walk into a room, all silent and stoic and every eye will be on you. Everyone will know who you are and remember you by the time you leave,” You throw him a look. Not one of distain or anger, but jealousy. He would never have to work as hard as you for a good reputation, in the guild or anywhere else. “I have to talk my way into being remembered, into having a reputation. One that’s now been stripped off me of course.”

Your eyes drop to the floor and spot a sizeable rock laying a few steps ahead. The second you get close you boot it, watching as it bounced and rolled away from you. “Now as to why I don’t ‘say anything’? To be utterly honest for once, Mandalorian, it’s just easier. Not talking about me makes it easier. Just lying makes it all easier. I can be whoever, whenever. It keeps me safe too; you can’t be predictable when no one knows who you really are.”

A small noise escapes the vocoder of the man next to you. A scoff. The Mandalorian actually just scoffed at you. He’s not looking at you anymore, no, he’s looking straight ahead and shaking his head slightly.

“What?” You scoff back. Your brow quirked at him again, arms coming to cross along your chest.

“Has anything you told me been the truth?” He asked quietly. His hands were fisted at his side, swinging with slightly more vigour than before.

“Everything that just came out of my mouth just now was the truth,” You said carefully, taken more than a little aback at his accusatory tone. You could feel your own frustration starting to bubble in your chest.

“And? Anything before that? What about your name?” He was still quiet, his words were clipped and chosen with care.

Your eyes shot wide open, brows arched high as you blinked at him in disbelief. You slowly uncrossed your arms, hands clenched tight by your sides.

How dare he.

“And the Jawas call the Ewoks short! My name protects me, I chose it, it’s mine, does it really matter if it’s not the one I was given?” You hissed at him, teeth baring as frustration turned to simmering anger, the stifling heat of the planet doing nothing to quell the slow boil of your blood. “I don’t ask your name! I don’t ask to see under your helmet! So do not fucking think for one moment that it is remotely okay to ask the same of me.”

He didn’t say anything to that. The two of you reverted back to what would be tense silence, if it weren’t for your heart knocking against your ribs and the blood rushing in your ears. You were nearly breathless with anger, your throat scratching with each sharp intake of the dry air. You all but ripped your water pouch from its place on your belt and chugged a good few mouthfuls. You unceremoniously wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, harshly clipping the pouch back.

Breathe.

You brought a hand to your chest, trying to ground your highflying emotion as you took a long breath in. You were normally pretty good at keeping a lid on your feelings, but you’d always had particularly short fuse and it take much pressure to spark a spectacular explosion.

Beneath your chest plate your heartrate had slowed considerably, a few minutes of particularly deep breaths later and you were nearly calm again. Nearly. There was a small twinge of guilt eating at your gut that you’d exploded like that. It wasn’t like yours and Tin Can’s situations were really the same. That didn’t mean you were going to apologise though.

Your stomach was the one to break the quietude again, a low rumble emanating from your belly in a reminder that you were, in fact, still hungry. The packaged roll in your clenched fist drew your attention once more. It was still warm, the sun and the heat of your hand seeing to that, the mere sensation of the firm swaddling against your palm making you salivate.

“You should eat.” It was almost inaudible, but by no means unmistakably him. That rough and slightly modulated voice gently directed at you. You didn’t reply, merely gave him a look that roughly translated to a slightly aggressive ‘You need to eat to’. He dismissively waved his hand. “I’ve gone longer without it. I can wait until we settle again.”

That small pang of guilt grew a little as you unwrap the parcel. However, the sweet smell that escaped the binding of the fabric assaulted your nose, overriding any restraint you were going to show.

You pulled the blue tinted crust of the bread apart with your thumbs, exposing the cloud-like aqua insides. The first bite tasted of pure heaven, the fluffy dough melting across your taste buds as you ate. You groaned at the taste. It had been so long since you’d had fresh bread, let alone a homemade loaf.

You practically inhaled the roll, not stopping to take an actual breath as you ate. As you cleaned the crumbs off your fingers you glanced over at the armoured man next to you. He was seemingly unaffected, nothing betrayed if he was actually hungry, jealous or still angry. That was if he even was angry in the first place.

You turned your attention back your track, the blue line on your eyepiece still blinking steadily in front of your eye. Still no danger, thank the maker.

It was like you were numb to time. The Mandalorian and you just continuously trekked on along endless scarlet fields. Where you had initially noticed small differences between each expanse of grass, be it a different set of flora or discoloured bushes, it was now impossible for you to distinguish them. The only thing that really alerted you to the passage of time was the stark sun, crawling its way across the sky and steadily raising the temperature of the planet below.

You used the cloth left from your small breakfast to wipe away the sweat that was once again pooling uncomfortably at your brow. You couldn’t bear this anymore. How was it possibly even hotter than yesterday?

“Stop,” You command, freezing where you stood. It took the Mandalorian a couple of steps to register what you had said, but once it had gone in he turned on his heel to face you. He saw you tapping commands into your gauntlet, and then pressing a button on the side of your headset. You were looking around, but your eyes only flickered over where he stood, as if you couldn’t even see him. It made him want to speak, to move, anything to make your gaze linger a little longer.

You were trying to reroute the two of you, hopefully through a forest or a village, so you could get out of this murderous sun. You nearly cried when nothing picked up on your scan.

“What are you doing?” He asked, walking back up to you, his cape billowing behind him.

“I’m basically dying in this heat, so I’m trying to find some shade,” You said sharply, eyes staying on your gauntlet. You tap into the control panel on your arm, extending the search range in a vain attempt to find some structures. You turn your head to track the scan. As you slowly surveyed the land you all but gave up hope.

It was in the exact moment you did however, a small blip showed in the distance. The corners of your mouth turned up into a hopeful smile, eyes coming alive with a glint as you tapped at your gauntlet once more. The image on your eyepiece zoomed in and enhanced.

You almost wept with joy when it displayed a series of, from the looks of things, stone ruins. They would definitely have plenty of shade, and hopefully wouldn’t have any people to pester you either.

Locking in the new route you looked up at the Mandalorian, the second your eyes met the silver of his helmet your smile dropped from your face. The blue line in your eye jumped position and you wasted no time in striding in its new direction. You didn’t offer as much as a ‘come on’ in the direction of your assistant, just walked away. You knew he’d follow. And follow he did.

It took another three hours of walking, though it felt more like a full day of it, before you were met with the delicious sight of crumbling stonework. The place was definitely abandoned and had been for a long time, that much was obvious from the ribbons of grass that had fought its way through the cobbles beneath your feet. The path looked as if it had been slashed, open wounds of crimson tones where the growths of grass had forced the once sturdy slabs apart. The buildings weren’t much better, worn rocks of the walls now crumbling away and leaving gaping holes and vulnerabilities where once there had been safety.

You continued following the uneven path, the winding and disjointed stones beneath you drawing you further into the centre of chaos. Looking around you deduced this must have been a village at some point. The clusters of smaller, somewhat sturdier to judging by their better state, buildings must have been houses and the bigger ruins had to have been some form of communal spaces.

You could almost feel the life this place once had, the people moving around and talking, baskets of gratham stems and other goods in hand, trading for clothes and tools, maybe the occasional game for the little ones. It was so familiar and yet, so distant.

The way the walls of the bigger buildings had caved in had left arching tendrils of dusty stone, beckoning arms that begged you to walk towards them, to peer into the depths of the rooms they guarded. While your interest was piqued with finding what lay within the wayward walls, you were more fascinated with discovering what lay at the centre of the village. So much so that you hadn’t even noticed that the Mandalorian wasn’t following you anymore.

He’d been close by your side since you entered the village. That was until a small yellow frog almost jumped under his boot. He froze, initially it was from not wanting to crush the little thing, but that quickly melted into missing the kid. The guilt that had faded from your earlier argument surged to the front of his mind with renewed vigour, fresh with worry that he’d felt when left the child alone with a stranger. Sure she looked kind and the place had been busy with other children for the kid to play with, he’d also payed out a handsome fee to her for the trouble.

All that however didn’t stop the nagging feeling that someone was going to find him. The last time he’d left them alone Calican had got to them and- maker alive- they nearly got taken from him. And so down the spiral he fell, with the Mandalorian slowly following the darting yellow jumper, stalking it the way the kid would be if they were there.

You could see the village core, a sizeable round plaza, with paths stretching off at five regular points. You’d abandoned caution when you had entered the stoned space, the shadows of the ruins providing much needed relief that caused you to drop your guard.

Rookie kriffing mistake.

You should have seen it. You should have noticed the way these slabs were sitting just a little above the ground, the fact that they were paler than the rest, or just the fact that the circle of stones seemed perfectly preserved. No growths, no wear and no tracks.

One foot crossed the threshold, and your whole body tensed as you felt the stone sink slowly into the dirt. Kriff. The familiar rhythmic beeping of alert overrode your senses, blinking red lights scattered your eyepiece as you looked down.

Your reaction was instant, every nerve you have firing as adrenaline spiked through your veins. You snapped around. No time wasted as you took off from the plaza. Feet pounding against the mottled path, each push giving you more and more momentum. You tried desperately to keep your breathing steady as your heart hammered in your chest. You could hear the ground breaking up behind you. Great cracking and thundering crashes as rock collided with rock. The sound snapped you out of your laser focus to one gut wrenching realisation. He wasn’t with you.

You forced yourself not to stop, not to yell out just yet. Just keep sprinting. Your eyes darted as your legs carried you at speed, head snapping from side to side as you peered into wrecked buildings and alleyways. Tears were beginning to prick at your eyes from the effort of keeping them open in the dry heat, blurring your invaluable vision. Sweat dripped down your face. A sheen of it forming over your body from exertion. Your lungs were screaming at you, begging for respite. The pain of it was almost enough to make you give in.

“SHIRYN?”

His voice carried through the ruins to greet your straining ears. The mere sound sharpened your senses, head jerking in the direction of the sound. You were vaguely aware of a new sound too. Thrusters, very small but undoubtedly powerful thrusters. The realisation of what was about to happen hit you as your caped assistant ran into view. He was right there. Just a few more paces in front of you. The new serpentile hissing at your back spurred you towards the Mandalorian’s shine, his helmet tilted towards the expanse above your head.

“MANDO!” You screamed at him.

Time seemed to slow around you, your goal making everything else fade away. You felt the shocks of the first impact rippling beneath your feet, it didn’t matter though because he was within your grasp, just one step away. Your arms reached out to him.

You nearly collided with him. Hands grasping at his pauldrons and pulling him with you. You hauled him, with all your strength, into the house on your left, throwing him to the ground once you were through the threshold. You fell on top of him, curling your body instinctively around his, legs tight around his hips, arms either side of his head, your own head cradled in the space between his shoulder and helmet, pinning his body beneath yours.

The explosions started milliseconds after you hit the ground. The sheer volume of each impact made your ears feel like they were about to bleed and the floor beneath you shook violently. Heat from the each detonation licked through door and fanned out across your clothes, making you sweat even heavier under the already sticky fabric.

Your eyes were screwed tight shut. Every muscle in your body constricted tighter with each wash of heat, your pulse thrumming in your ear. Any hope of controlling your breathing was abandoned as you shakily panted. Inhaling the thick smoky air in a vain attempt to draw in sweet, sweet oxygen. You tried to draw yourself away from destruction that was happening right outside the stone walls, to let yourself drown in the sound of your own heartbeat, of the feeling of Mando’s cold beskar pressed against the side of your face. You were so wrapped in distracting yourself you didn’t notice the firm grip of his arms circling your waist. Anchoring you to him.

Rocks were beginning to fall around you, the once sturdy structure beginning to fail its purpose. Your grip on the Mandalorian beneath you tightened as stones fractured across the floor, each collision making you flinch slightly. You were bracing for an inevitable impact when you felt your whole world shift dramatically, your body being rolled beneath a substantial weight. You expected to hit the ground hard, but your impact was softened by a pair of arms, one secured under your back and the other cradling the back of your head. Holding you to him.

Your hands grasped at him blindly until you found purchase on his arms, fingers digging into the rough fabric of his sleeves. Tentatively, you opened your eyes. You had expected to see the slowly collapsing ceiling, but your view was thankfully obstructed by Mando’s chest plate. Right as the two of you settled into this new position, a hefty chunk of stone hit the ground where you had been mere moments before.

It felt like an age before the sounds of chaos outside the safety of the building began to fade, the time between explosions lengthening exponentially. Even the house you’d dove into seemed to be stabilising, the rock-fall slowing as the tremors of the floor began to cease. You found yourself calming down, your body relaxing a little as you managed to take regular strong breaths, or as much as you could do at least in the unrelenting hold of Mando.

A few more drawn out minutes passed before the attack seemed to cease completely. Still though, you stayed encased in each other’s grip, anxiously listening for any stray detonations. You both seemed to come to the conclusion that it was over at the same time, your grip on his arms loosening as he released your head, lowering it gently to the now rubble filled floor.

Using his free arm he pushed up from you, but made no effort to retract his other arm or roll off you. Instead, he looked down at you, your skin glistening with sweat and hair wild beneath him. He watched your eyes with intent, curious as they darted around the room before settling back on his visor. You’d called him Mando. He was replaying that fleeting moment over and over as he looked at you, praying to the maker that you wouldn’t go back to referring to him as Mandalorian. His heart kicked up a notch when you cocked your brow at him, the miniscule change in your expression dragging him from his thoughts to the realisation that he was still pressed close against you. The last time he had felt anything like this was back on Sorgan, but here… kriffing hell he wished he knew what you were thinking right now.

Your eyes flitted between where you thought his own lay behind the visor, though you weren’t exactly sure what you were looking for. Being this close to him you could hear his breathing through his vocoder, hell you could feel the rise and fall of his chest against your own. Part of you was yelling to get away, scramble from the precipice you just knew you were teetering on, and do not fall in. Yet a different part wanted to stay, to lean in and press your forehead against his the smooth surface of his helmet.

You swallowed. Hands releasing his biceps, you trailed your fingertips with a feather light touch across his shoulders to land on his chest plate.

Then you turned your head away from him, choosing to look at a crumbling wall instead of his visor as you lightly pushed him away.

Mando took the hint. He carefully extracted his arm from under you and rolled off, landing with a solid thud to the side of you. You wasted no time in sitting up and beginning to search yourself for injuries, sighing in relief when you found none.

He hadn’t been so lucky. It didn’t even register with him that he had been wounded, not until pain spiked up his leg at his attempt to sit up. The soft grunt that escaped him alerted you almost instantly.

“Mando, what’s wrong?” You asked sternly. Turning to face him you scanned over his figure, seizing up when you saw the tell-tale scarlet stain slowly darkening at his inner thigh, just above his knee. Shit. You shot to his side, hands working on removing his cuisse.

“Shiryn, it’s noth-“

“I get to decide when it’s nothing,” You snapped. Your tone probably came off sharp and abrasive, but you didn’t care. There was only one thought running circles round your mind right now. That this? This was entirely your fault.

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op-law · 4 years ago

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Charlotte Kato x Reader {I Need You} Ch 2

Kato's Pov

When the young girl didn't reply to my initial attempt to speak to her, I tried again but this time I spoke louder. "Did you hear me (Y/n)? I said your Father's death wasn't your fault" There was something special about this girl and I had felt the need to comfort her but I also didn't appreciate her tears pouring down against my skin. "W-Who said that?" I could hear the fear laced within her voice though in a way it was almost cute. "Down here (Y/n) and please stop crying on me" At first the girl didn't move an inch though she was most likely just scared. "T-The pumpkin?... W-What are you talking about?"

"Yes, the pumpkin, or I believe you know me better as Kato. Please turn me around (Y/n)" I had been stuck in that maze for days now while I tried to gain the attention of anyone that would listen but no one had been able to understand me except (Y/n). "K-Kato? T-That's impossible he's just a-a-a-ahhhhh!" Alright, so I didn't fully think this plan through very much since as soon as (Y/n) seen my face she threw me out of her lap. After I had heard the girl speak so highly of me to her little sister, I would have figured she would have been thrilled to find out my true identity but the reaction she showed me was not the one I expected at all.

"W-What the hell are you!?"

"My name is Charlotte Kato and I'm not sure how I ended up as a pumpkin. Though you're the only person that has been to be able to see my face as well as understand what I'm saying. I need your help (Y/n) maybe if I can get back to Mama then she can do something about this" As I watched her wipe away the last remaining tears, she started to crawl over towards me. "You're really him?... I hate to be the one to tell you this Kato but you're nowhere near Whole Cake Island and this isn't even your world. In this world, you're only a character from an anime so I'm not sure how I would even be able to help you. I'm sorr- Wait just a second did you lick me earlier!?"

"Your hand was covering my mouth (Y/n) though you didn't taste very good" When the girl started to glare at me, I realized that probably wasn't the response she wanted to hear but at least it was the truth. "Come along my little Kato let's get going so we can find out how to break this curse you're under"

~~~~~~~~~~

A Few Hours Later...

(Y/n)'s Pov

"Is something wrong (Y/n)? You look like you're about to cry and I don't like it" As my eyes shifted over to the pumpkin that sat at the end of my bed, I let out a sign before I replied to it. "I don't have a pumpkin to carve for Halloween anymore. My Mom said she wouldn't buy me another one since I already got you"

"Don't you have the Beri to buy your own?" When I shook my head at Kato, I moved to be closer to him though his facial expression didn't show much. "So, my little orange friend have you thought about how we could break this curse of yours? I'm assuming it's a curse unless you have reason to believe it's something else"

"Well, I've read quite of fables over the years, and usually true loves first kiss does the trick to break a curse though I highly doubt you love me so we'll have to cross that idea off of the list. Do you have any ideas (Y/n)?... Why are you blushing?" As I tried to cover my cheeks from the man's view, I sat up on the bed and held my hands to my face. "H-How do you know that I d-don't love you?"

"Hm, I've never met you before (Y/n) though you seem to know a lot about me. You mentioned that I was an anime character in this world can you please explain that a little bit more to me? I don't understand what you meant by it. Also, your sister is rather rude" When I uncovered my cheeks, I briefly looked over at the mirror to double-check that there was no longer bright red though once I confirmed they were back to normal I turned to Kato.

"Well, an anime is like a tv show that we watch for entertainment here. Though I'll admit there's not much information available about you and you're only in a few episodes sadly but I really like you. Hehehe. I guess I have a special place in my heart for the unappreciated characters. Oh, that reminds me I even draw some fan art of you. Would you like to see it? I'm not the best artist in the world but I think it turned out quite good"

"You drew a picture of me? Hmm, I've never had someone freely draw me before. Sure, I'd love to this drawing of yours (Y/n)" As I went to find the drawing in question, I kept looking over at Kato though maybe it was a hopeless thing to actually think a kiss from my lips would break his curse. "Ah, here it is... What do you think Kato?"

"It's rather well done (Y/n) but why are you drawing pictures of me? I'm not the most attractive male in the world and like your sister said I'm just a pumpkin freak. Why would you even draw someone as ugly as me?" What Kato said had really started to pull at my heartstrings since sure he looked different from the others guys but that didn't make him ugly. "I don't care what you look like on the outside Kato. All that matters to me is what's on the inside. You could be the most attractive person on the planet but if your heart is ugly then the rest of you is to"

"Did you want to kiss me and see if anything happens? I mean it's not going to hurt anything to try it" I thought about the man's question for a second though I slowly started to nod my head as I picked him up within my grip. "Y-Yah, we can try it" My face was probably on fire at the moment but all I had to do was press my lips against his and hope for the best. "(Y/n)! Mom wants you to take the trash ou- What in the hell are you doing to that poor pumpkin?"

I really needed to buy a lock for that door since Yuki clearly didn't know how to knock. "I-I'm just thinking about the design I want to crave into it. Why does Mom want me to take the trash out? I did it yesterday so tell her that TJ has to do it" When Yuki replied back to me, I slowly started to groan as my feet moved onto the ground.

"Yeah, TJ left to his friend's house so you need to do it. I'm sorry Sis I would have done it for you but the doctor doesn't want me to put a lot of pressure on my wrist since the break could worsen" When my eyes drifted to the girl's wrist, I reminded myself that she had strained to during her volleyball game last week. "It's fine Yuki. Tell Mom that I'll be down in a minute I just need to finish up something and please for the love of God learn how to knock"

"Hehehe. It's not like your ever doing anything interesting in here (Y/n)... Unless of course, you have some kind of dirty secret you're attempting to hide from me~" Yuki didn't even wait for a response before she ran out of the room. "That girl is rather annoying but she reminds me of my little sister Flampe. Does she like the sight of blood? Flampe can't stand it though that doesn't stop her cruel ways"

"Blood? Yuki gets hurt all the time but I've never seen her uncomfortable with it. Who's Flampe again? There are so many members of your family that I can't remember you all but I do know a few like Katakuri the really tall guy who loves donuts and tea"

"Hm, don't worry about it (Y/n). Now I believe that you were going to kiss me were you not?" I had almost forgotten about that but since Yuki was gone, I could finish what I started though I was getting slightly nervous about kissing the man. "What's going to happen if this works Kato and you turn back into your human form?" Since this wasn't his world, I couldn't exactly just allow him to leave the house since the government would surely want to experiment on him.

"I haven't thought that far ahead but let's just see if this kiss will even work then we can discuss things afterward" That sounded like a good idea so before I could back out from the plan, I pressed my lips against where his carved smile was located. It was the weirdest feeling in the world to kiss a pumpkin though once I had pulled away, I sat him down and waited a few seconds. "I'm sorry Kato it didn't work... Don't go anywhere I'll be right back"

"It's alright (Y/n) if it makes you feel any better your lips are really soft and I liked the kiss"

"T-Thanks K-Kato... When I-I get back we can think about what we can try next" Before the man could say another word, I had already left the room and started to the kitchen where my mother was waiting. "(Y/n) there you are I was beginning to think that you were going to stay locked in your bedroom all day. The garbage is over by the door I just need you to take it to the end of the driveway"

"First of all, my door does not have a lock on it so it's impossible for me to stay locked in there, and second of all, wasn't it garbage day yesterday?" When my mother turned away from the window, I could see she had fresh tears in her eyes. "No matter how old you get (Y/n) you'll always be my baby girl. I know one day soon you're going to leave this house but I'm afraid you won't even say goodbye to me. Please promise me that when that day comes, you'll at least let me see you off"

"What makes you so sure that I'm going to leave this house? I hadn't even decided on the college I want to attend yet and my grades aren't exactly anything special" My Mother only shook her head before she started to walk past me though I did manage to hear her whisper something under her breath. "We don't meet people by accident. They are meant to cross our paths for a reason"

As I thought about what my Mother could have meant I made my way over to the front door before I grabbed the trash bags and headed outside. Thankfully there were only two bags but they weighed quite a bit. "What the hell could she have thrown away? Garbage day was yesterday so there shouldn't be this much trash... Oh, it's the big garbage pickup week isn't it?" As I continued on down the driveway, I finally made it to the end though based on the dark clouds that were approaching from the east I knew it was going to rain soon.

"I should hurry back to the house before the rain starts... though then again it wouldn't be so bad if I did stay out here for a while. Hm, I wonder if Kato would like to join me?" Since we lived in the middle of nowhere, we had this long dirt driveway but I liked the fact that we didn't have any neighbors for miles. "I'll go see if my Pumpkin King wants to play outside with me~ Hehehe"

~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter 2

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sushiandstarlight · 4 years ago

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Cookies: Chapter 16

This chapter includes yesterday’s prompt “evergreen” and today’s prompt “lights.”

Previous Story: Of All The Beds In All The Hotels In All The World

Chapter 1-3 / Chapter 4 / Chapters 5 & 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15

Read this chapter on AO3

Rated: G, light teen for suggestion, nothing explicit

It took some amount of time to get downstairs, what with the way Crowley pinned his angel to the bed. And then Aziraphale's wandering hands in the shower. And the way they wound up snogging each other senseless at the top of the stairs, almost winding up at the bottom by way of running afoul of gravity. By the time they made their entrance into the kitchen, hands linked, they were pink in the face and couldn't stop smiling at one another.

That was, until Aziraphale saw the pies lined up on the kitchen island: apple crumble, cherry lattice with sparkling sugar on top, and mince were all present but also accompanied by blackberry and peach. Aziraphale drew close and hovered over the pies, cooing about how beautiful they were. He reached out to touch one, but Edie smacked his hand with a spatula.

“Ow!” he yelped, yanking back his hand.

“They are for dinner tomorrow night,” Edie sounded deathly serious.

“Oh, alright, but they are beautiful,” Aziraphale sat on one of the barstools, continuing to admire them. Crowley recognized the rapt attention, remembering how Aziraphale had looked at him in the shower. He took a quick mental turn from that image before he was overwhelmed with the urge to grab the angel's wrist and drag him back to their bedroom.

“What have we got here, then?” Crowley sauntered to the counter, also admiring the pies. They were a thing of beauty. Gladys and Edie clearly had talent. Edie pointed out each type with the spatula and Crowley crowed, “you missed a couple, Angel. Off your game.”

“I was a bit distracted,” Aziraphale hmphed. Crowley approached his stool and spun it around to face him.

“You can only smell some pies over my mouth-watering aroma, then?”

“Or maybe you still smell like butter and sugar. It's distracting.”

“I've bathed!”

“I know, I helped!”

Crowley felt his face go crimson. He looked over at the ladies only to find them looking suddenly very busy facing the opposite counter.

“Maybe I'll be rubbing down with butter and sugar every day for you when we get home,” Crowley pressed his forehead to Aziraphale's and smirked at him.

“Oh, that would be a terrible mess on my sheets.”

“Tell me, in this vision are they tartan?”

“...yes.”

“No loss there.”

“Hey!”

“That's okay, Angel,” Crowley wagged his eyebrows at him, “they're tartan in my vision, too.”

Aziraphale smiled and wiggled happily on the stool.

“Alright, that's enough mushiness near the pies, you're going to melt the pastry,” Edie swatted Crowley with a tea towel.

“Fine, fine. We'll move it along,” Crowley made a motion towards the sun room and set off for it. Aziraphale lingered, smiling bashfully at Edie and Gladys.

“You don't really mind, do you?” Aziraphale stood to leave.

“Nah,” Gladys winked at him and handed him a tiny mince pie, “Run along, now.”

Aziraphale smiled broadly and left, catching up with Crowley.

“Pssh, really?” Crowley had spotted the pie.

“Told you she likes me,” Aziraphale's smile was smug now.

“I think you're the favorite.”

“Do you want a piece.”

“Nah, I would rather watch you eat it.”

“I still don't understand what you get out of watching me eat,” Aziraphale sat on the loveseat, peering up at him. Crowley hadn't actually meant to say that out loud.

“Well,” he shrugged, going for casual, “I like to watch you take pleasure in things. I like knowing you're enjoying yourself.” He sprawled on the other side of the loveseat, managing to take up most of the room while Aziraphale sat up properly. He rested his head on the back of the sofa and waited, watching Aziraphale with a lazy smile on his face.

“Could you...” Aziraphale trailed off, looking away.

“Naw, now don't do that,” Crowley nudged the angel's knee with his own, “Whatever you want.”

“Oh, that's a list,” he looked back at Crowley, “I wondered if you might tip your glasses down while you watch me. I like watching you, too. Your eyes... they're so expressive.”

“Didn't know you liked 'em,” Crowley pulled his shades down his nose part way and peered at Aziraphale.

“I do. I like that you take them off when we're alone.”

“I've got nothing to hide from you,” Crowley watched as he took a small bit of the pie and hummed happily, “Except for Christmas.”

“Yes, I suppose that makes two of us.”

“Tomorrow, no secrets then.”

“Yes, I will feel better not keeping it from you.”

Crowley grunted, watching him take another bite and let out another hum, wiggling on the part of the cushion that Crowley wasn't currently sprawled over. Crowley kept watching him even as he finished, patting the sides of his lips with a napkin and brushing invisible crumbs off his trousers.

“It was one thing,” Crowley cleared his throat, but it did nothing to get rid of the gravelly sound his voice had dipped into, “before I knew what you sounded like when you... you know. Those little sounds you make, Angel, they would keep me up at night after our dinner dates. But, now I know...” He shifted in his seat, glancing at the door and pushing up his glasses.

“Maybe a little dessert is in order.”

“Dessert,” Crowley blinked, confused, “But you just had pie.”

“It really does devil with your brains, doesn't it?”

“What?”

Aziraphale stood and made for the door, leaving the confused demon still on the sofa as he turned and went up the stairs.

“You dummy,” Edie poked her head around the door frame, from out of nowhere, “he wants you for dessert! You best get up there.”

He should have been mortified, but instead he just smiled at her and hoped he'd willed down the color that wanted to rush to his cheeks.

She high-fived him as he ran past her.

After supper it was decided that they would all go out and have a look at the lights that Aziraphale had been diligently hanging outside the inn. Crowley was happy enough to look at them, but still reluctant on account of the weather. The snow had continued to fall and it was ankle-deep now. He shivered as he peered out the the front door.

“You're not going out like that!” Gladys was behind him, shoving a long black coat into his hands, “You'll catch your death. I insist.” She watched him as he put it on and buttoned it and then wrapped a red and green scarf around his neck enough times that his chin was nearly lost inside it. And then she handed him mittens.

“Really? Where on this planet did you find men's sized mittens?”

“I made them.”

“What? Why?”

“For you! You always look cold. You make me cold just looking at you sometimes.”

He put on the green mittens, even though they made him feel silly. Pretty much instantly his hands felt warmer, but he wasn't about to tell her that. One look from her, told him she already knew, though.

“See, I thought you might take better care of yourself if doing so meant using a meaningful gift.”

Crowley clutched his hands to his chest and leaned in to her, whispering, “I'll treasure them, really.”

“Don't much care for treasuring, I'll be happy knowing you're using them.”

Aziraphale bustled by them in a cream-colored overcoat. He also had knitted mittens, but they were white with faux fur around the wrists. He pulled on a matching hat and stood by the door.

“Are we ready to go have a look?” Aziraphale craned to look past Gladys, “Where's Edie.”

“I'm coming, I'm coming!” Edie appeared from the kitchen with a tray of hot chocolates and passed them out. “No need to stand around out there freezing our buns off without something to keep us properly warm.”

“Finally, someone's speaking sense.”

“Oh, you poor dear,” she handed him his cocoa and patted his cheek- her hand was still warm from holding the cup- “if I'm the one speaking sense, we're in loads of trouble.”

Aziraphale opened the door and led them out into the parking lot. There wasn't a strong wind, but enough that it nipped sharply at Crowley's ears as he followed behind the others. He burrowed his face down into the scarf.

“Alright, turn back... now,” Aziraphale walked around and stood behind them as they turned back to the inn. They gasped and smiled and turned one at a time to congratulate him: The whole front of the inn was outlined in white lights, gently fading off and on at random. The walls were outlined in red and draped with net lights the same color. All the bushes were strewn with red and green lights.

Crowley was staring hard at the white lights, trying to discern a pattern to their tranquil flashing when he felt something warm and fuzzy slide over his ears. He jumped, reaching up to find earmuffs.

“Wha-”

“Consider it an early Christmas present,” Aziraphale hugged him from behind. There were too many layers to feel the angel's warmth and Crowley felt the pity of it. Still, his ears had stopped stinging.

“Thanks,” he leaned back and kissed the angel's chilly cheek and shivered dramatically, “The lights are beautiful.”

Gladys appeared in front of them and clutched both of their chins.

“You boys have made this Christmas so special, you know that right? We couldn't have done all of this without you.” She was looking at them very earnestly from beneath the low brim of her knit cap. It had a giant pompom on top that was wiggling with the light breeze.

“I think we're thoroughly enjoying our stay,” Aziraphale's voice sounded a little pinched.

“I think we'll all enjoy our stay more inside,” Crowley burrowed up to his sunglasses into the scarf around his neck, “Not that the lights aren't pretty.”

They went back inside, still sipping their cocoa.

“By the way,” Gladys said as she unbuttoned her coat and hung it on one of the hooks by the door, “I got a call from the group holding the bake sale. All the baskets sold.”

“Oh, what marvelous news!” Aziraphale clapped his hands together happily.

“Someone, one person, bought all of them.”

“Wow, that's a lot of cookies for one person...” Crowley grumbled.

“And then donated the cookies to the orphans...” Gladys was eyeing them suspiciously.

“Don't look at me! I've been here the whole time,” Crowley squawked.

“I do wish I had thought of it, but I confess that I didn't,” Aziraphale looked honestly contrite.

“Whoever did it, it was an unexpected kindness,” Edie was still eyeing Crowley who shrugged at her.

“Anyway,” Gladys threw up her hands, giving up on having an answer tonight, “We all better get to bed. Santa's coming tonight! But he won't visit until we're all in our beds. Goodnight, boys.”

“Goodnight, Gladys. Edie.” Aziraphale nodded to them and they watched the two wander off down the hall.

“You,” Aziraphale turned to Crowley, “You bought all the cookies, didn't you?”

“Yeah.”

“That was a wonderful thing to do.”

“Nah, it was alright.”

“The children will love them.”

“Come on now.”

“I think,” Crowley found himself being pressed against the nearest flat surface- the wall, thankfully next to the coat hooks,- and kissed sweetly, “You should be rewarded for your good deed.”

“Is it a good deed if there's a reward?”

“Sure, if the reward was unexpected,” Aziraphale practically dragged him up the stairs. As if he was going to protest.

Chapter 17 is now up!

#aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #good omens #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #star light-reads #30 days of prompts #nanowrimo #nanowrimo 2020 #of all the beds in all the hotels in all the world #sequel #christmas fluff #fluff #oi at this point even i'm like 'get a room guys'#but wait they do have a room #it's the honeymoon suite #might as well make good use of that!

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starfirette · 5 years ago

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Every Which Way : Chapter Five

The Way Towards Family

➡️Previously

➡️a/n: this is it. This is the chapter I have been dying to write. After this there’s only one other scene I am on the edge of my seat for, but that comes much later 😈 also, I just realized that I’d been advertising this chapter as chapter four. it’s actually chapter five. fml. I TRIED MY BEST TO EDIT THIS FAST SO I’M SORRY BUT HERE IT IS! LIKE COMMENT SUBSCRIBE SEE YA NEXT TIME GAMERS

➡️ OC page, if you care: chapter includes Wendi and Ryder

Even knowing morning has come, you linger in your bed a while. The silence of the room has become a comfort, and the only noise you ever hear is the occasional cuff of boots by your door.

This morning as you stare into the cracks of the ceiling you hear the soft voices of Mandalorian children murmuring rumors.

“I heard she is so ugly that her planet doesn’t want her anymore,” one voice exclaims in a loud whisper.

Another child hissed a remark: “That’s not true. I heard she’s so beautiful that there was a fight over who could keep her.”

You haven't seen many children around the covert. The tunnels are mostly littered with Mandalorians who sharpen their weapons and keep keen watch.

The time came to rise long after those children had scurried off; you could not hide in your room all day. Dressing slowly in your long sleeved tunic and pants, you became lost in thought; your life would take its final turn in a matter of hours. The wedding would commence, and the court guardian in covert captivity would be sent back to Aniri to spread the news that the infamous, fugitive, servant girl would never come back. She would never be repossessed, no matter how many fits Emelea, the new queen, threw. The servant girl would be Din Djarren’s wife.

The thought did make you tremble. Your belly flipped as you laced up your boots without really looking at them. The confession he gave last night still felt like a dream. He’d departed too quickly after the engagement, his only goodbye being the tender press of his helmet against your forehead. He hadn’t returned all night, though you stayed awake hoping he would. The revelation of his feelings felt fraudulent—you couldn’t be sure he wasn’t lying to you, and you never could be. You had to live on and figure this out as you went through the motions, succumbing to the waves of your brand new Way of life.

Combing the knots from your hair with remarkably still fingers, you found yourself contemplating once more.

Contemplation has proved to be your natural enemy these past days. Forming ideas in your mind is a dangerous thing, for once forged, you couldn’t ever forget them. You will never forget the words Din had just spit out so recently. He doesn’t care about you, he isn’t your friend, he has nothing to give to you. You’d interpreted all of that from the single sentence he’d offered like a rotten fruit.

I do not care about you.

And even after saying this, he’d come to your room and begged for your hand in marriage. You’d agreed because at the time you were swayed into believing him, but given his abrupt departure you couldn’t help but contemplate his words. Sweet words can be said any time, any day, but they would never erase the cruel ones.

And Din had said such sweet words. Some you wanted to believe in so badly.

You slipped your belt around your hips, attaching the buckles at the bone then around your thighs. You carried three total weapons now. The pistol, the beskad, and the besbev. Your beskad weighed heavy on your leg, the curve of the blade wrangling against the angle of your stride a bit awkwardly. The besbev had become your closest friend of all the three. It’s beautiful to look at and more beautiful to play. It is a traditional instrument from the older age of Mandalore, a flute, with a blade sharp enough to split skin by the seams at the opposite end. The pistol is self explanatory. It’s not nearly as easy to use as you’d thought. From yesterday’s squabble in the desert your arm ached so, so badly. The recoil of every shot had done its due diligence.

Sheathing the final weapon on your hip, you take a deep breath that ricochets in a wheeze through your chest. Striding among the Mandalorians like your one of them feels like an epic crime. Compared to even a random woman from any other planet you’re small. You’re weak and unable to do well in battle. Compared to these women, why would Din want you?

You lingered around the furnace entrance for a moment, watching as Gold hammered away at no doubt another weapon. You cleared your throat on the off beat of the rhythm, catching Gold’s attention.

“Good morning,” she greets with a cordial nod of her head.

You don’t reply. You walk into the furnace and stand as close as you can to Gold without being molested by runaway sparks.

“You made that choice for me,” you speak, cutting into Gold’s question. She put down her hammer and gestured for you to continue. Through a clenched breath, you ranted out: “Din brought my off Aniri so I could have freedom. To earn that freedom, a choice was made, in which I was not involved, or even consulted. You should have told me.”

Gold inclined her head. “I am sorry,” she says simply.

There’s nothing else she can say to ease your anger. You know this, accepting her apology with a short huff. "Where's Din?"

Harboring sparks over her leather apron, Gold shook her head. “Unaware. I would suspect he’s preparing for the ceremony or he’s further interrogating the captive.”

“Curious,” you note. “What else would he need to know?”

Gold looked at you with a blank expression—even through the helmet, you can tell you should know what Din could want from the court guardian.

“You’re to be his wife, child,” Golds says, suddenly gentle. “Do you blame him for wanting to ensure your lifelong safety? You must know by now that he loves you.”

You calculate the chances of Din telling her to say that. As low as they might be, you still can’t bring yourself to truly believe it. Brushing the detail away with your hand, you looked Gold straight in the visor. “The guardian said we had twenty four hours,” you prompt. “Yesterday.”

“Do relax,” Gold eases you. “Everything is being taken care of.”

“I don’t like hearing that,” you say snippingly. “The last time someone said that to me, I was signed into marriage. Please don’t mistake my aggression for sensitivity.”

Gold had nothing to say to that. She exhaled, a half laugh sort of sound. “There will be a wedding tonight. The guardian will bear witness and he can send a transmission first thing after the ceremony. Tomorrow Paz and his brother will escort the man back to his own planet.”

You lifted one of your brows. “Brother?” You repeated.

“Ryder,” Gold clarified.

Your jaw dropped. “Ryder and Paz are brothers?”

You would have never guessed, with Ryder’s harsh attitude and Paz’s gentle way of doing anything. You shook your head.

“What do I have to do?”

“For one, you have to be at the ceremony,” Gold snickered. You didn’t appreciate the humor at the suspenseful moment. Huffing a tiny sigh, Gold shook her head. “Mandalorian marriage is a rather traditional occasion. The entire covert will be watching. The contract will have to be sealed with blood.”

You drew back, looking absolutely startled.

Gold raised her hand. “Not a great deal. It’s a simple prick of your finger. There will be a second contract which you will have to sign. It’s to be recognized by the Anirian council. There will have been two signed contracts, so there will not be any mistakes. I don’t have to tell you what else you’ll be doing,” she then concluded. She tilted her helmet up, as if she were sneaking a glance of you through her hair. “I don’t, do I?”

“What else do I have to do?” You asked, a feeling of nausea overcoming you once again.

“You will have to consummate the marriage.”

“‘Consummate?’” You repeated. A foreign word. Paz hadn’t taught you that one.

“Yes,” Gold said carefully. “That is...well, child, you will have to have sex with Din.”

You nodded, though your face burned with fierce embarrassment. “Thank you for pointing that out to me,” you say sarcastically.

“I won’t lie. I did think that you didn’t know what sex is,” Gold continued.

“I do,” you assure her.

“You do. Well, this is good, because you have to do it.”

“I know,” you grit through your teeth.

“Do you know how?” Gold then asked.

You shut your eyes, wishing this would end already. “I didn’t come here to ask how to give a man a blowjob,” you say loudly. “Trust me when I tell you I am not completely naïve!”

Gold looked down at her feet. She coughed into her leather glove. “Hello, Din.”

You spun on your heels to see that Din has entered the furnace, having just stepped foot past the threshold.

You abruptly seized up in your stance. A stiff thank you to Gold and then you left, making sure not to brush arms with Din’s armor.

You wished now above all other times that you could have seen Din’s face. He probably looked as mortified as you felt.

What a bother this entire day is turning out to be, you think as you retreat back into your room. You sifted through your basket of snacks and proceeded to eat cheese.

You sank into your pillows as you ate your cheese, feeling rather content with the comfort it provided your stomach. You’ve learned that good food can do lots of things. It can brighten a sour day, such as this cheese has done for you. Your final hours of being a single woman would be spent eating cheese. You wouldn't ask for it any other way truth be told. Cheese is a good treat. It’s a comfort. A luxury, even.

Yes, yes, you think as you anxiously bite into your cheese. At least as a married woman you could still eat cheese.

Being completely honest with yourself you had actually forgotten that sex was a necessary detail in a married woman’s life. Your knowledge on sex is...limited.

In the servant ranks you had been often assigned with another girl to clean and dust and polish the upper level of the palace. This happened to have a grandiose library. Because none of the girls could read, Vidia would pick and choose the small amount of books that had photos printed inside. She stole picture books often, distributing them to other girls for the price of their bread rolls or rice balls at dinner time. It was the only joy you could recall from being amongst the ranks. Vidia often brought that feeling, and as she was your usual cleaning partner, you could pick many favorable memories with her. One being huddled in the darker corners of the library, flipping through a book that could only be described as indecent. Vidia giggled while you blushed and frantically shook her arm, trying to convince her to put the book back before she became caught. At that time, she never did. You’d seen the various sexual positions and orientations. Girls could love girls, boys could love boys, and either one could be easily repulsed by anything sexual.

You wished you could read then. The book had several chapters on various topics. You couldn’t decipher anything but the photos.

Still; you’d seen how sex was supposed to work. It never occurred to you that you could enjoy sex in your lifetime. The council’s teachings made anything indecent clearly criminal, hence the reason for the rags and makeup in the first place. You’d long before associated sex with punishment. Real punishment, not the sort of punishment you’d seen painted in the book.

The very type of punishment Vidia received one day.

The thought of a penis being in close proximity to your general body hadn’t been appealing before.

It’s almost naughty of you to be a little bit thrilled at the idea of Din’s naked body flush with yours.

You only could assume that sex was something most people did for fun because the pictures always had everyone smiling.

It’s a shock that the book had even been in the library considering how conservative the council is.

You’d be forever grateful for it. Forever grateful for Vidia and her mischievous ways. In some strangled way she had saved you from eternal embarrassment on your wedding night. Although you couldn’t say confidently that tonight would go well.

You had never even touched yourself before! You didn’t know that was a thing until the book.

Maybe you’re focusing too strongly on the book.

You should be focusing more on earning your freedom rather than your first time being with a person. But as you recalled the images of girls laying in naked rows and giggling as they cuddled close, you felt yourself become sweatier by the minute.

“OW!” You yowled. You’d been preoccupied in thought and had nibbled onto your finger, having finished your block of cheese.

A knock on the door came, and you were eager to fly from your bed to answer it. Anything to distract yourself from sex with Din. And what better distraction would that be besides, surprise, surprise, Din himself.

You stared up at the T of his visor, lips tightly pressed shut.

“I’m here to take your things,” Din says bluntly.

Out of nervous habit you tucked hair behind your ears. “Why can’t I have my things?”

Fearful for the loss of what little items you possessed you tried to lessen the entry way by inching the door closed.

“Wouldn’t you rather have them in my room?” Din asked, stopping the door with the toe of his boot.

A breath of relief sounded off from your chest. Din shook his head. “I wish you would understand,” he says quietly.

“Understand what?”

“Understand that you’re truly free,” he says. “I am…”

He trailed off, looking fumbled and at a loss for words. “I am here to move your things, as I said.”

You couldn’t exactly argue. Considering he’d be your husband, you’d have to share a room with him, although you can’t exactly imagine having the space with rooms like these.

You helped him gather the little amount of possessions you did own. The new clothes he’d gotten for you you gathered in your own arms. Din made busy with gathering up the amount of books you had from Paz. “Do you enjoy reading?” Din asks. He flips through the history book you’d gotten yesterday.

“I’d enjoy it more if I could actually read,” you mutter.

Din snapped the book shut. “If you’d like, I can help you. I could read to you at night.”

Shifting the weight between your legs, all while your face and ears burned, you stuttered, “That sounds very nice.” It did sound nice. It sounded like something a real married couple would do.

You didn’t realize you would be comfortable with anyone else knowing about your illiteracy besides Paz. Din did not make it seem like a burden, or a red flag, or a flaw. He did take advantage of your stunned silence to take your clothes in his arms. “Should I lead the way?” He asks, his voice strangely vivid in your ears. The bass of his words resonated down to your eardrums, making your chest feel warm as melted butter.

You took one last look around at your bedroom, suddenly saddened by the fact you would be leaving it. It is as plain as it had been when you got it. The simple furniture and the low ceiling; despite all of that it had felt like home.

“Mesh’la,” Din says carefully. “I’m sorry.”

Snapping out of your silent goodbye you looked up at Din. “What for?” You pressed. With furrowed brows you took count of everything Din had to be sorry for.

“About the marriage,” he clarifies. “It wasn’t my first choice for you. I tried everything. Even if you moved to some other planet, they could still come for you. This is the only way to keep you truly safe.”

You smiled at the floor. “You talk about my safety a lot,” you point out.

“I care about it,” Din answered in the same knowledgeable tone. You pucker your lips, at a loss for a retort.

Walking side by side with Din, through the tunnel, felt very strange. His pace was never so concise with yours before today. Looking at him you can see he isn’t struggling. He seems natural; human, even, if you could believe it. He didn’t seem to step out of a two feet radius from you at any given time, and if one of you were to fall behind, it would always be him.

As the tunnel and its crowd thinned into a hall of silence, you looked through the walls searching for doors. A few here and there.

“Some of these are classrooms,” Din says, as if he had sensed your questions. “Some house younglings. Foundlings sleep with the younglings to encourage interaction and connection. Those who have been here the longest, with the strongest clan, tend to get the bigger rooms. It’s a bit of a social pyramid.”

Stopping at what had to be the last room in the entire covert, Din gestured for you to open the door to your new home.

The inside isn’t as shocking as you thought it would be. It’s just a bedroom. There’s a bigger bed in the center of the north wall, the quilts in a folded heap at the foot. A wide vanity and a full length mirror sits in the corner to the right of the bed; to the left, a tall wardrobe. A smaller sized bookshelf and two soft cushioned armchairs linger just beside you at the wall of the entrance. It’s not decorated or filled with anything you could use to guess it belongs to Din.

“The quilts are new,” Din explains as he shuts the door behind him. “It’s not much.”

“It’s perfect,” you tell him. “As perfect as a bedroom can be,” you quickly add, ears burning as you realize what he could have interpreted. You hurry to take the set of books from him. Awkwardly hovering over the shelf you look at him for permission.

“You could rearrange the room however you’d like and I wouldn’t say a word,” Din says. You couldn’t muster any response as you pushed the books against his.

“If you want to sleep separately I can get another bed,” Din continues as he strains himself to stand still in the corner. You step in front of him, grabbing your clothes from his arms as you sigh, “And here I thought you wanted to sleep with me.”

“I—That is not what I meant,” Din stresses.

You laughed at his reaction. “I’m teasing you,” you promise him as you journey to the wardrobe.

“I don’t like being teased,” Din grumbles.

“I’m sorry to say that I’m learning that teasing is a great deal of my personality.” You sent him a look over your shoulder, the smallest of smiles preened over your mouth.

“I don’t like being teased,” Din repeated,

Something boiled in your stomach when he said that, but it felt pleasant. Blushing furiously, you got to folding away your tunics and trousers. Din’s own clothes are folded away. You still remember the smell of his soap from the little bed on his ship. Tonight and every night after that smell would linger beside you.

Staring at the mattress, you couldn’t help but wonder how Din slept at night. Sprawled limbs? Curled? On his stomach, maybe, with one arm hooked underneath a pillow.

The bed would be the scene of consummation tonight, and bearing that in mind you quickly looked away from it.

“Thank you for thinking of doing this,” you say as you come back from the reeling dizziness Din had instilled with his words. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” you add. “I will never be able to repay you.”

Din lets out a heavy sigh. He hangs his head down, his shoulders shaking as he laughs. “I wish you would understand, mesh’la. There's nothing I ask from you other than to be my wife."

The floor swayed beneath your feet as the words rushed to your ego. You took a tiny breath to ease your conscious before taking a careful seat on the mattress.

You looked to him through loose bits of your hair as you patted a seat beside yourself. The heavy stomping of his boots shake through your toes that point down into the floor. He takes an uneasy seat, the bed creaking underneath his armor.

“You’re very kind,” you say as a natural moment of silence has passed the room. “Will I be able to see your face tonight?”

Din, almost seeming startled, clenched his hands that rested over his thighs. “Yes.”

You chewed your tongue, trying hard not to laugh or smile. He seemed as nervous as you. It is a comfort to know that the world’s most elite warrior’s could be nervous. “I hope you’ve shaved,” you say again in a teasing way.

“Oh, I have,” Din says reassuringly. Your eyes grew wide. “Do you have facial hair?” you asked hopefully, wanting something to look forward to.

A quiet laugh passed through his modulator. “I could. If you liked that, then I’d say yes.”

“And if I don’t like that?” you ask.

“Then I’d shave every day.”

You wrapped your arms around your stomach that ached as you laughed harder than you ever had before. Perhaps you’re just hysterical given the impending wedding that looms a mere few hours away. “You’ll be very agreeable if you do everything I asked of you,” you say.

Din shrugged. “I just might,” he teases. You would have rolled your eyes if you hadn’t felt so watched. You can feel his eyes glued on you, helmet or no helmet.

“If that’s true, would you answer all my questions?” you challenged.

“To the best of my abilities,” Din agreed, albeit hesitantly.

“What is a Mandalorian wedding like?”

He seemed to have not been expecting that question because he became lost in thought. His fingers splayed over his legs as he relaxed at your side. “Not what I think you’re used to. It’s as traditional as anything else we do. Unlike other cultures, we do not usually make up vows. The binding ceremony is generally the same for each couple. The same words and the same contract. We’re not expected to kiss in front of a crowd. The rules don’t change. But tonight, after the contract is signed, it will be expected of me to remove my helmet. Removing the helmets is a custom saved only for the couple.”

You nod. “I see. But I don’t have a helmet.”

“Not to spoil the surprise, but you’ll soon see everything has been arranged. This wedding will be unlike any other. Rather than one Mandalorian vow, you and I will exchange vows set by Anirian standards. It’s important that the council recognizes our marriage as legal.”

You shiver at the idea of Emelea refusing to accept your marriage. You aren’t entirely certain she’ll be quick to disregard you just because you married Din. You aren’t so much focused on the legality of the ceremony, though. You’re fearful for the outcome that may destroy the covert.

“What are you thinking?” Din asks. His soft voice passed over you like a fluffy cloud, shielding you from the burning sun. You basked in the feeling it gave you for a second.

“I’m thinking that I would never forgive myself if your people went to war because of me.” You sounded quiet and sad, something you didn’t want to convey, but you couldn’t help the feeling.

“We’re Mandalorians, mesh’la,” Din says confidently. “I’m sure we’d be fine.”

You cast your future husband a disregarding look. “This is a covert for a reason,” you argued. “The Armorer told me everything. Other Mandalorians may be able to afford a war, but not mine. Not you.”

Din’s heavy hand placed gently over your thigh, the warmth of his palm seeping through the fabric of your trousers. “When it comes to you, I am more than capable of taking down entire armies.”

You felt the urge to hold his hands twinge in your fingers. You might have taken the opportunity to kiss him if you could’ve.

Rather than voice this, you opted to put your hand on top of his, squeezing his grip around your leg. “I’m excited to see what you look like,” you beam. “Before, I was nervous. I’m not so nervous anymore.” You bring your hand up to touch the side of his helmet, where the metal contoured like cheek bones. “You sound like your eyes are brown.”

Din took his turn to hold you next, holding your hand in place.

“No hints?” You asked after a moment of intense staring.

“None.”

With a final squeeze to your hand, Din moved you away then took to his feet. “We should get ready. Wendi will be looking for you, soon.”

You frowned deeply, crossing your arms as you remained intent on hiding in your new bedroom. “Why?”

“I told you that Mandalorian weddings are very traditional,” Din points out, the smirk evident in his voice. “You will have to get ready eventually.”

You groaned. Knowing that Wendi doesn’t like you unsurprisingly turns you off from getting her help. Besides, she’s most likely angry at you for getting her yelled at yesterday after the fight with the guardians.

Begrudgingly you followed Din to the furnace. You considered holding his hand, but chose not to, as you weren’t sure just how affectionate he’s ready to be.

Wendi, Paz, Ryder, and the Armorer already lingered around, having a low conversation while two female Mandalorians worked silently in the corner, using rags to polish armor cuffs.

“Well, if it isn’t the lovebirds of the hour,” Ryder snides. He rests up against the lockers, huge arms strapped over his chest. You resisted a loud huff, telling yourself it’s better to let him be than to give him the satisfaction of getting a reaction.

Wendi’s blue helmet juts a nod in your direction as a greeting.

“Here I was hoping you two would just elope,” Wendi says with a sneer in her voice.

So much for the brief moment of indifference.

“I hope you’re both well rested,” Gold says curtly. “Revisions have just been made. The ceremony may commence at any time.”

You and Din looked to each other. You felt the sense of something like camaraderie, but more intimate. It’s not as though the relationship is like anything anyone’s ever had. There are doubts and feelings still unspoken. Despite that, there’s more than what meets the eye.

The agreement became finalized as Din gave a single nod of his head.

“I’m ready if Din is.”

Ryder cackled while he rubbed his oversized hands together. “I’m ready for something finally exciting,” he exclaimed.

He sauntered forward, grabbing Din by the arm. “Time for your bachelor party,” he declared as he led Din out of the furnace. You felt cold without him by your side; cold and aware of the emptiness beside you. You remained tall, pushing your shoulders out and leaving your chin high in the air. “What happens now?”

Paz spoke this time. “The bride and groom should review their vows while they get dressed. The bride wears a special dress underneath armor. It’s common for Mandalorians to marry non-Mandalorians. Even then it’s important to uphold tradition. On their wedding night, the face of the riduur is reserved for their significant other. After today, the helmet will be yours. It’s up to you whether or not you want to uphold the creed, but tonight, you must.”

That was Paz’s kind way of telling you dressing in Mandalorian garb is a necessary effort you cannot and should not decline. Paz clicked his heels together in a quick bow of goodbye. “I will see you at the ceremony.”

“Thank you, Paz,” you said before he could leave the furnace.

The short nod of his head was a silent form of ‘you’re welcome.’

When only the ladies remained in the furnace, the door became shut and locked, which you’d never seen before. The furnace had always been open for everyone.

“Y/n, please meet Genevieve and Nyra,” the Armorer said as she gestured to the two females who had been silent until now.

“Nice to meet you,” they both said softly, which you reciprocated, including the bow of your head.

“They are under my apprenticeship and have been younglings in our covert for many years. They helped make your wedding armor.”

Genevieve stood about 5 feet tall, if not a few inches taller, and her armor is sprayed a deep, almost pastel purple. You can see she scratched in designs on the cuffs and leather, like wildflowers and stars.

Nyra, on the other hand, stood two heads taller than Gen. Her armor was polished to a mirror like glaze and every plate and leather strap in perfect place.

Wendi tapped her foot anxiously as she watched you interact with the younger girls instead of getting dressed. “Not to be a jerk, but the sun’s already going down. If we want to get the guardian off planet by trooper rotation, then Y/n’s gotta be dressed and married by the next hour.”

You grimace. “I suppose we should get on with it,” you agreed.

You undressed to your undergarments, watching as Nyra and Gen took a sheer black dress from a locker. It reached your knees and fit loosely around your body, mostly the waist and shoulders where the straps felt loose.

“It’s meant to be that way,” Gen promises as she makes some adjustments. She sounds kind through her modulator. “It’s only meant to go underneath the armor.”

You looked down at yourself, feeling quite like a widow rather than a bride as the black skirt swished around your knees.

Wendi and Nyra brought over the first pieces of your armor. Wendi straightens your shoulders for you, a bit too forcefully to be kind. You sent her a glowering look as Nyra fit the breast plate against your chest. You held it in place while Gen attached the shoulder plates.

You would then wear knee and shin guards made of the same white gold as your chest plate. You enjoyed getting the new pair of shoes the most, though; heavy boots as bold as any other Mandalorian’s, but velvety black with white laces. The toes had steel inside, as you could tell as you tapped the toe of each boot against the cobblestone floors.

“Wendi,” Gold says tamely, holding out a hair comb. “Can you be trusted with such a task?”

Wendi plucked the comb from her hand. “Why would I not be?” she snubbed.

You flinched when Wendi took a fistful of your hair in her gloved hands. To your surprise, she was gentle as she twisted it up into a knot on the back of your head, using the comb to stick the bun in place.

“You make an agreeable riduur,” Nyra notes from across the furnace.

“Thank you,” you say. “Although, I’m not sure I know what a riduur is.”

“It’s a mando’a, gender neutral term for a spouse,” Gen fills you in. “Bride, groom, wife, husband, or even neither and both.”

You nod. “So, mando’a is the language you all speak?”

“It used to be,” Gold says from her usual place by her stove.

“Before the purge,” you guessed.

“It was our first language as children,” Gold explains. “We are lucky if a youngling can even pick it up these days.”

“Hey! Ner mando’a...it’s...ah, it’s slipped my mind,” Gen said, defeated. “Still, I can at least understand it.”

You wondered what it would be like to understand two languages; you can’t even read your own. Rather than letting that tear you down, you return your focus to your armor and dress. “I won’t have to wear makeup, right?” you asked fearfully.

“Oh, no,” Gen says in a gasp. “Only your husband shall see your face tonight. It is an honor to see a newlywed’s face! We did make you something special.”

Gen and Nyra pressed at Gold to hurry on and show ‘it’ to you, and you watched with anxiety as Gold dug through her cooler. Presenting to you the latest object of her creation, you couldn’t help but gasp.

It was a helmet, of Mandalorian design, sculpted just for you out of rosegold and beskar. The T of the visor rippled like a wavy vine across the front.

Gold set the helmet in your hands.The weight could be balanced perfectly if you held it in your two palms perfectly upright. It’s pretty to look at with the rose gold sheen that glimmers when it hits the light in that certain way.

“There’s a hidden design,” Gen proudly says. She ushers herself over, guiding her hand to the underside of the helmet. At the touch of a button, the visor would roll up, revealing your face through the hollow part of the helmet.

“Amazing,” you guffawed.

“It was my idea,” Gen beamed. “It didn’t feel right to force you to hide your face, again. This way you can at least look like a Mandalorian, but still feel free and safe.”

Her words felt like shocks to your chest. You held onto the helmet with a tight grip, staring into the center of it as you tried to push back tears of sentiment. You would not cry on what should be a happy day. The day you are to earn your freedom has finally come, with new people and a blossom of affection that could bloom into the strongest love if tended.

“It was very thoughtful of all of you to do this,” you say in a brief whisper. “Shall I wear it now?”

Gold gestured for you to do so, looking at you tenderly from behind her own golden helmet.

Yours fit snuggly around your head. It didn’t feel uncomfortable in the least with the padding on the inside of it. You felt around the inside which brushes your cheek, looking for the button that Gen had spoken of.

When you pressed it, the screen shot downward silently, and you could see the world the way other Mandalorians did. The image is crystal clear. Nearly enhanced. You could even hear yourself breathing through the modulator, the sound the very same as everyone else’s.

“This is for you to keep,” Gold says as she waves something at you. You go towards the stove’s counter. The pair of gloves she holds in her hands fit tightly over your fingers. On the inside, over the palm of your dominant hand, is a button. “Each helmet has certain modes for certain environments. Yours is equipped with heat signatures, night vision, and aim.”

Each click of the button took you through the three modes. Aim is by far your favorite. It focused on the item or person you wanted it to through patient staring, the screen highlighting your target.

You pressed the button again, taking you once more to the normal screen.

“Thank you,” you said, breathless. You are at a loss for words. “I’m not sure what to say…”

From her position against the door, Wendi whistled to get your attention. “Say nothing. That’s preferable.”

You exhaled a heavy sigh, which came off as a hiss through the modulator.

“There is one more thing for you to wear,” Nyra says before Wendi can continue the banter. In her hands she weighed back and forth a plain necklace, the charm being a heavy oval of metal. You pulled it over your head, leaving it to rest against your breast plate. “Typically,” Gold explains, “the signet of your spouse is printed on the necklace. However, Din has yet to receive one. Until then your necklace will be blank, but that is no excuse-always wear it with pride.”

“I will,” you swear.

Gen put a hand over your shoulder, looking to you with what you imagined to be excitement. “Would you like to look in the mirror?” she asked.

Breaking out of the furnace in your Mandalorian garb felt unreal. You’d never once imagined this would be your life. Marrying Din, wearing the helmet, the armor.

The full length mirror in an unused room not far from the furnace showed you the image of a young woman who has only known the life of fire and glory. You were not that woman, you know it, and you feel guilt pull your heart down into your stomach as you tell yourself you are unworthy to wear the Mandalorian uniform.

Trembling in your armor you dare to contradict yourself. What you were before does not matter, and it likely won’t ever matter again.

Today, tomorrow, and the next, you will be Din Djarren’s wife-and by legality, a Mandalorian.

No one would want to touch you, then. Who would dare to pick a fight with a Mandalorian? A Jedi, who are but legends and stories?

“Are you ready?” Wendi asked from the doorway.

“I think so,” you say. It’s difficult to catch a steady breath under all of this pressure that’s suddenly coming down on you.

“It’s exhilarating, right?” she asked. “The first time you wear the helmet. You either think you’re not worthy or you become too egotistical about it. Ryder was egotistic. Paz was all depressed. I’m sure you can guess me. But Din? I’ll never know. No one will, besides you. So do me a favor once you two are...official.”

You tilted your head, silently asking her what she meant.

She laughed. “Get that guy to relax a bit.”

The aisle is less of an aisle and more of a general area for you to walk through. There are many Mandalorians in tow, all cast aside to the corners of the room as they watched you appear. You hadn’t realized how many Mandalorians lived in the covert until you were seeing them. Parents held their children by the shoulders; little girls cooed and boys gawked at the armor that plated your body.

Din waited for you at the end of your makeshift aisle. He wore standard armor but bore no weapons; weaponless Din seemed awkward to look at. He probably felt as awkward as you do.

There is no priest or council member standing between you and Din.

“Take off on glove,” Din says softly. You’re certain you’re the only one who can hear him.

Where your hands trembled, his were calm as the sea before a storm. Upon revealing to the audience two bare hands, there was a sudden outcry of happiness; applause. It had made you flinch at first but you could pick out the whoops of victory.

“Just look at me,” Din whispers again. He held his bare hand to you, and you gripped it for dear life. “And now,” he says, “repeat after me.”

His voice declared the Mandalorian vows perfectly. He was born to speak Mando’a, his voice a perfect marble depiction of the words and their value.

“Mhi solus tohme,” Din says clearly.

You did your best. Mando’a is a difficult language, you realized once you were expected to say it loud enough without messing up. “M-Mhi solus tohme.”

“That means, ‘we are one when we are together,’” Din translates. “Mhi solus dar’tohme.”

“Mhi solus dar’tohme.”

“We are one when apart. And now, mhi me'dinui an. Mhi ba'juri verde. We will share everything. We will raise warriors.”

Your affection for Din snapped, releasing it’s full force within your chest as your heart beat painfully. “Mhi me’dinui an. Mhi ba’juri verde.”

As soon as you’d spoken those words, the crowd went into an uproar of laughter and applause. Music started to play from some corner of the room, Mandalorians playing mandolins and flutes.

You had to reach out for Din to keep steady on your feet. “That was anticlimactic,” you said over the chaos.

He caught you swiftly, holding you upright by your forearms. “We aren’t done just yet, mesh’la.”

Vaguely wondering what that meant you followed after Din as he took you across the room, through the crowd and to a table that had been set for a proper meeting. Paz in one chair, Gold in another-and the court guardian Din hadn’t killed just between them.

Din pulled the chair out for you. “Thank you,” you muttered, unsure if he could even hear it above the party.

Now that you both faced the guardian, you reapplied your gloves.

“I hope that was to your satisifaction,” you snubbed. Something about being face to face with a man who had been in league with your abusers made you very angry. It might be valid, it might not be. You don’t care. You could just remember the feeling of taking one of their lives, and you felt less uneasy.

The guardian gestured his hands carefully; his wrists are bound by thick chains he could not break, but you still felt as if you had to be on guard.

“It was a beautiful ceremony, ma’am,” he promises. “As much,” he continued, in a rapid stutter, “as I wish it was enough, it was not. There is more.”

Paz pushed forward a few papers with lots and lots of words on them. You could sound out one of the pages; one was a Mandalorian paper, with your name and Din’s at the bottom. Gold passed over a dagger. “It must be signed.”

Din sighed, once more pulling off his glove. He pricked his finger over the tip of the dagger and pressed it like a stamp by his name. The blade is then passed to you. You did the same, feeling less confident and wincing, but stamping your bloody fingerprint by your own name.

Din gently took your hand and gestured for you to tick your wounded finger out. He pressed both fingertips together so the blood mixed, and you both stamped again in the very center.

It was poetic, in a way, but it still made you frown.

“And now?” you ask as you nurse your finger with a cloth napkin.

“Marriage vows,” Paz explains. “But they must be written out.”

You looked absolutely floundered. “I thought there wasn’t a need for marriage vows,” you said loudly.

“Not for a Mandalorian wedding,” Gold explains. “But the council wants a marriage by their own terms. This is what they want.”

Din took an ink pen and a blank parchment paper. “I understand,” he murmurs as he leans over the page, starting to write.

You shot Paz a look. What would you do? Could you ask him to write it for you?

Paz shook his head. “I’m sorry, Y/n. Just do your best. It’s not a test or something we are judging you on.”

You took a pen in your hand. It weighed heavy and felt uncomfortable all tugged against the small joints of your fingers.

You put the tip down to the paper, a large blot forming on the page. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know what to do. It’s nerve wracking for a long minute. Under the music you peered at Din’s paper. He had a lot already.

“Kriff,” you swear to yourself. You started writing carefully.

A large “I” in the center of the page. You’d chosen the wrong spot to start with, but you couldn’t go back. You finished up terribly slow, walking yourself through each word many times to ensure you wouldn’t make a spelling mistake. The end product wasn’t much. But it worked:

WILL

LOVE

HIM

You signed your name at the bottom. You passed the page to Gold, quick enough that Din wouldn’t be able to see it.

“We’re done, then,” Gold says confidently once she has Din’s paper. “You are officially married.”

You dropped the pen with a breath of relief. “Thank goodness,” you muttered.

“Ah, ori’jate,” Paz murmurs as he looks through the papers. “Y/n and Din. Congratulations, from the bottom of my heart. Kandosii! I am off to make proper copies of your certificates. Then, we will be sending them, along with our friend, here, back to where he came from. Have a wonderful rest of your evening.”

Paz pulled the guardian up to his feet, dragging him along to wherever they would be going to make their copies. You looked at Gold timidly. “Now, what?”

“Now, I go to my room and have a wonderful night’s sleep,” Gold says. “You’re officially free, Y/n,” she says. “My congratulations. Enjoy the rest of your night, both of you.”

As Gold disappeared into the party, you and Din sat shoulder to shoulder, unbearably still for a long time. You both sat and listened to four songs come and go. He wouldn’t muster the strength to speak up or move, and you simply couldn’t.

As the seventh song started, Din threw down the napkin he’d been using to nurse his finger. He slipped his glove back on and stood. “Would you like dinner?”

You accepted his offered hand, using it to stand to your feet. You agreed, though not hungry at all.

You secretly felt grateful for the visor that separated you from the vivacious party.

At the large table of food, several people congratulated you. You met and shook hands with Mandalorians you would likely never meet again.

Din thanked everyone in that low-key way of his; you might have found it charming if it didn’t intimidate you to your core. He filled up a basket, which he’d grabbed from some other table, with enough food to keep your room stocked for two days.

A little girl tugged at Din’s leg. “Din, Din!” she exclaimed. “Please take some uj! I helped Mam make it, and I even tasted it before her! It’s very delicious.”

Din knelt down to speak to her. “It looks amazing, Aiya. I will make sure to have plenty. Thank you.”

Aiya grabbed at Din’s shoulders to tug him closer so they could touch foreheads. “Have fun, Din,” Aiya’s mother laughed. “You as well, Y/n. Welcome to our family.”

Ah.

Family.

An interesting word. Not the word you would have used too loosely. You suppose Aiya and her mother have the privilege to throw the term around. You, on the other hand, were not a four year old girl; you never had a real family to call your own. Now that you’ve found Din, you were not going to soil the word ‘family’ by addressing any stranger with it.

The hall stretched fearfully beyond you as you and Din set course for the bedroom.

You hoped you weren’t breathing as loud as you think you are. You’d become conscious of it; you manually pumped your lungs out, just to have something to focus on. Your insides just felt like a jumble, like the color grey. You didn’t have a clear input on anything, anymore. Since the ceremony, everything has been vivid to the point it seemed unreal.

The clicking of your boots aligned with Din’s, the paces being set by the rhythm of your heart. It felt like you’d ran from the hall to Din’s bedroom.

Din opened up the door and gestured for you to go in first. It wasn’t as if you could yell “NO” and run away. Besides--that’s not what you want to do.

Din sets the basket down on one of the armchairs.

“Are you alright?” he asks you.

“I am,” you answered.

“Would you like to eat?” Din asked, gesturing his arm to the basket.

With your heart racing, you pulled off your glove and your helmet. “I’m not very hungry,” you admit as you look for a place to set the helmet down.

“I usually leave mine on one of the chairs,” Din murmured. You did that, filled with unease.

“You weren’t kidding about tradition,” you noted. “It was all very...traditional.” “Overwhelming?” Din guessed what you actually meant.

You faltered out a smile. “Honestly, yes. I thought I would die from shame if I ruined the vows bit.”

“You did very good,” Din said, as if he’d been praising your performance. “I was impressed, at least.”

You coughed on a laugh. He really is quite awkward underneath all of that armor and intensity. And speaking of armor, you realized that the next step on this night is to see his face. “Well...are you hungry?” you asked.

Din struggled to find a good place to stand. His overflow of shuddering fear flooded the room to its edges.

He would not come to you, you realized, so you would have to come to him. You unlaced your boots while he watched. Numb fingers peeled away at the laces and leather as you kicked the shoes away.

All Din seems to ever do is watch you intensely. With brown eyes, no doubt. You know that for sure. His eyes are brown.

With the floor uneven as you walked his way, you brought your mind to one thought.

The color brown.

There are several shades. Several ways brown could be beautiful. Many of the girls who had been in the servant ranks had brown eyes, and you’d known ever since then that brown eyes were, and always would be, undeniably beautiful.

His eyes could be brown like a piece of smokey quartz, dark and mysterious with its shadows.

His eyes could be lighter, like topaz, a warm pool of late sunshine.

His eyes could be almost golden, like amber, like sweet honey.

Your hands, now bare, reached out for the helmet. You half expected resistance; maybe Din would have second thoughts?

However, there was none. There would never be any, you realized, now that you two had married.

You slid your fingers beneath the helmet, finding the soft skin of his jaw. Smooth, you note, so that’s a no on the facial hair.

“I shaved,” Din answered your silent question. You smiled in response.

You took no more hazarding chances. It was time. You could feel it. You want it, and it’s very close.

You lift the helmet, standing on your toes to do so, and Din’s face becomes revealed to you in the matter of a split second.

Brown eyes.

Darker, brown eyes. You could have guessed that. They match the sound of his voice. And his skin is as though he were made by the sun.

There is a line of hair just over his top lip, a thicker mustache that made him look ever angry. You touched the tip of his nose, then his chin, then his cheeks.

“You’re very handsome,” you tell him in the gentlest voice you could summon. You doubt you could speak any louder right now. The beauty of him has you breathless, again, and at a loss for any other words.

Calling him handsome is a real understatement. He’s unlike any person you’ve ever laid eyes on.

“I don’t get that a lot, believe it or not,” Din mutters. He holds your hand that cradles his face. “I want to kiss you.”

Shocked by his words, you stared into his eyes with a gaping mouth. No one had ever said such things to you. You’ve never felt such an affect; warmth like honey and butter that slid down your chest and thighs as one of Din’s thumbs slowly brushed over your lower lip.

The hand that cradles your chin lifted up, and the tender feeling of Din’s mouth overtook yours.

He smelled the same as his leather jacket. Soap, a smoky summer’s day, and all of him.

Your chest plates clattered as Din carefully pulled you closer.

You were startled as his tongue poked through your lips, but the sensation that came with it left you gaping, a perfect opportunity for Din’s tongue to trace the crevices of your mouth. His lips felt like a drug. You couldn’t believe you’ve lived without kissing until now, as an adult. Now that you’ve felt it you never want to live without it again.

It seemed like a skill. You could easily stand there and fade into the euphoria, but you could not swish your tongue and lips like he could without feeling like a wild mudhorn cleaning himself.

When Din became breathless, he pulled away, but his hand still fiercely attached to your face.

You gasped for air.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the first night we spent together,” Din rasps. “Watching you...in the small shirt...and you were fawning over me. I wanted you badly.”

Your face burned fiercely at the words. You’d never have speculated…! Sputtering for a reply, you wrapped your arms over the shoulder plates of Din’s armor. “You have a good way of hiding your feelings,” you tell him with a shake of your head.

Din’s hands fell to your hips, which he squeezed as he shook his head with a smile. It was shocking. You felt yourself become stunned at the prospect of a simple smile, of a half laugh whisping from his lips.

What affection you’d felt for him before burst into a blossoming flower, delicate but beautiful.

“I can’t believe how handsome you are,” you say.

Din sighs. “I really don’t know what I’ll do if you keep on saying that.”

You blushed at the tips of your ears. “I-I mean we should-right?”

Din’s mouth twitched at the idea you’d prodded for the first time all day. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says in a dark voice.

“Why?” You weren’t ‘disappointed’ but you were confused.

“I shouldn’t force this onto you,” he said. “It’s enough you’ve married me. We can save that for another night.”

Ah. His chivalry strikes again. You shake your head. “What if I had been looking forward to it?” you prodded.

Din grabbed your chin once more and kissed, this time harder than before. “I told you already,” he rasps. “I don’t like being teased.”

Knees shaking, face burning, you looked into Din’s eyes with a wide smile. “Alright.”

According to Din then, helping each other out of the armor is customary for the wedding night. Din took this opportunity to teach you how to disassemble, then reassemble, armor on your own.

Beneath the armor you were not naked. You still had your sheer dress, and Din had his trousers and fitted tunic. The necklace stayed on, the pendant hanging at your chest. You’d declined Din’s prompt to remove it.

Guiding you to the bed to sit, Din placed more kisses over your face. Propping yourself onto your knees, you watched Din eagerly while he untied his own boots. His helmet got placed next to yours. Shoes, next to yours. He climbed into the bed with the basket of food in hand.

You reached for the first piece of cheese you found.

“What do we do now that we’re properly married?” you asked.

Din caught your wrist and guided the cheese to his mouth, where he then took a huge bite of your food. Through a grin, Din shrugged. “Get to know one another, I’d say,” he prompts.

It went back and forth from then on. He asked questions about your childhood, and you’d give mostly depressing answers. You explained to him the in depth details of life in the servant ranks. You’d been born into it by a servant girl who was impregnated while unmarried. You were born, only to have your mother executed hours after. You’d never known her, so it didn’t feel truly sad at first look. Though the more you thought about it, the more sinking realizations settled in your mind.

Din reminisced his story of how he’d lost his family. He’d been rescued by a Mandalorian group under the name of Death Watch. The story was long and intricate. You were mesmerized by Din’s story, by the way his mouth moved when he spoke and said certain words. You were deeply embedded into the story. The history of Death Watch had been explained in thorough detail by your husband. It had once been a group of heroic warriors, dedicated to protecting and upholding the Way.

Paz and Ryder’s father had been a strong part of it.

Everything changed with the rise of the Empire.

Death Watch had been seized by a man who sought the powers of a sith lord. And that had only been the start of the end of Mandalore.

Din managed to escape most damage by moving along with his covert. He was one of the lucky ones.

After his story, he asked you more questions. Life among the ranks; friends; memorable stories. You told him everything. You’d witnessed many defectors become dragged by the hair to the red circle. Often times, servants were gathered to watch as their sister was executed. It was meant to be a lesson learnt.

You didn’t learn it.

Neither did your friend Vidia.

You’d not spoken Vidia’s name aloud in many years, so sharing her story to Din moved you to deep tears that trickled down your face before you stopped them. She lived on through the stories you told. Her mischief, the way she could ease any girl’s worry; and, of course, the time she tried to defect. She tried so hard. She almost succeeded. She’d organized a revolt against the council with the other older girls. It almost worked.

But they were all caught and killed.

You learned from her death that life on Aniri would never get better; from then, you’d watch the ways of the palace and plot. You were going to escape, for Vidia, at first. Then you’d decided you would escape for you.

While the time passed between you, all in between the smaller questions like favorite colors and first kisses (yours had been with Din, and he was happy for it), you both ate happily from the basket.

When he was ready for bed, Din rolled off the mattress. He set the basket up and you could only watch with burning cheeks as he pulled out of his tunic. He folded it up and pushed it into the wardrobe.

He found a tin can and popped something from it into his mouth. He offered you the tin. You tested the waters with a lick to the tablets.

“Are these mints?” you demanded.

“Yeah.”

“Wow.”

Mints were high quality on Aniri! You expressed this to him with a wide smile. “I never thought I would have one...I never thought I’d have this sort of life,” you added as you chewed the mint. You scrambled to get under the blankets as Din approached the bed with a thoughtful smile on his mouth. You tried your absolute hardest not to look. You couldn’t really help it. You’d never seen a shirtless person before. It was intoxicating how amazing Din looked. His stomach is well sculpted, his shoulders wide and strong, and his collarbones had an intense effect on you.

Din shut out the lights on his way to bed. He shifted around, pulling the blankets over himself as well. It didn’t take long for you to reach out for one another. As soon as your eyes had adjusted, Din reached out for you. He pulled you by the waist so you were aligned with his torso. Your dress ruffled up against your thighs as you laid there, being kissed and becoming dizzy. There wasn’t much you could do. You didn’t know how to do anything.

You could only do as your body reacted, which was to push up against his bare skin as much as you could manage. You spread out one of your legs, wrapping over Din’s hips so your thigh pressed into him.

You gasped into his mouth as his calloused hand ran over your thigh, up very high to where you could something happening. Something interesting, really. Something definitely new.

“You should ask me to stop,” Din grumbles against your neck. His lips had puckered over your quick pulse, sucking and biting at the skin that had never once been touched before.

“S-stop,” you breathed as you pulled his face back up. You pressed your mouth against his. Trying your hand at kissing back felt messy. It felt sloppy. But Din didn’t seem to mind all that much.

He yanked you closer. “Do you mean it?” he asked you in a rough voice.

“Not really,” you giggled.

Your leg that is cast over his hips got pulled at. He seemed to stretch it out wider so he could run his hand way up beneath your black dress.

His thumb passed over your wet center and you trembled against his chest.

“What was that?” you exclaimed, struggling to catch your breath.

Din looked down at you through the darkness. “This?” he asked. His thumb pressed on that one spot again and you gasped loudly. “What is that?” you asked again.

“Something I can easily stop if you asked me to,” Din says firmly. You gripped onto his bicep as you shook your head. “I do not want that,” you quickly say.

Din chuckled. He pressed another kiss to your mouth as he moved his thumb in small circles. You grabbed onto Din for your utter life. You recalled the feeling of being thrown around the Razor Crest while Din navigated you to safety. This feeling is very similar, but in a way you couldn’t possibly put into words. It’s warm, fuzzy, but it makes your blood run cold in your veins. The feeling has you breathing hard and clinging onto Din, tugging on his messy, brown hair.

And just as soon as it had started, there was a gigantic wave of euphoria that passed over you. Something burst inside your stomach. It was like the feeling had reached its peak and then ended.

You shuddered against Din’s torso, still reeling from the experience. You breathed hard, muttering his name over and over. “How,” you asked, “did you do that?”

Din laughed. The sound rumbled through his chest, low and baritone. He slides his arm up your dress and around to the small of your back. He tugs you closer to his grasp. “It’s a Mandalorian secret,” he tells you.

“Would you do it again?” you asked.

Din laughed. He rolled over you, pressing you into the pillows as he looked down at you through the darkness. In the silence you could hear that the party still raved on in the meeting hall.

“I could. But I won’t.” You gripped at his hair, lips puckered in a desperate attempt to kiss him some more. “Why?” you gasped. “I told you, mesh’la,” Din mutters. He kisses your lips once; it’s softer, gentler, and it eases you to comply with the cuddling hug Din rolls you into. “I don’t like being teased.”

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