#also why are characters in armour with their faces covered always so hot

[kaiba-cave]

What, all I did was torture a guy a little…

[jaskierswolf]

🥺 Hi!

Can I have a little fake dating Geraskier? With a side of kisses to prove they're together? That maybe turn into a real make out session later? Because the idiots love each other but have no braincells?

🥺💗🥺💗💗🥺💗🥺

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVELY!! 💖💖💖 This is also on AO3. ________

Jaskier pouted at Geralt as he rested his chin on his arms. Geralt glowered at him and took a long sip of his ale. They’d been arguing for a good half an hour already but Jaskier still wasn’t ready to give in. He jutted out his bottom lip and gazed up at the witcher. He understood why Geralt was hesitant. The last banquet they’d been to together had not exactly ended well but this one was delightfully free of royalty and as long as Geralt didn’t feel the need to call the Law of Surprise… then it would be fine.

“No,” Geralt grumbled. Jaskier let out a long sigh and tilted his head.

“Come on…”

“No!”

“Come on!” Jaskier whined.

“I’m not being your bodyguard,” Geralt insisted. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Jaskier winked at the witcher as he bit his lip. “Looking at you like what?”

Geralt grunted.

“So… you’ll come to the banquet to protect me,” Jaskier sang as he sat up and sipped his wine. “but not as my bodyguard?”

Geralt furrowed his brow and hummed.

Jaskier rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Well you still refuse to use the term friend so that won’t work. You’ll have to be my plus one!” He laughed at his own joke, ignoring the spike in his heartbeat.

Just a joke, Jask.

Geralt hummed and tilted his head. “Alright.”

Jaskier choked on his drink, spraying red wine all over the table. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I said alright.”

Jaskier whimpered incoherently, his heart was in his throat. “Geralt.”

“When I act as your bodyguard people try to hire me as a mercenary. I’m a witcher. I  kill monsters not people,” Geralt muttered. “Just tell them I’m your husband or something, should stop the cuckolds too.”

Jaskier let out a long shaky breath. Geralt meant they would pretend to be dating. Of course he meant as an act. Jaskier’s traitorous heart had just began to hope that just maybe his love for the witcher would be requited. Shattered hope was surely one of the cruelest emotions in the universe; a shining star that becomes a black hole.

Jaskier snorted and flicked his fringe from his eyes. “You are a terrible actor, witcher. It will never work.”

Geralt smirked. “Oh yeah?”

Jaskier felt a buzz of excitement. The thrill of performance was addictive and it never got old. Jaskier was sure he’d be performing until he was old and grey. “No one will ever believe it.”

Geralt hummed and stood up, picking up his swords. Jaskier followed Geralt’s movement across the tavern with his eyes, still a little stunned by the turn of events. How the fuck was he supposed to pretend he was in love with Geralt without revealing that he was, in fact, actually in love with Geralt?

He groaned and thumped his head down on the table. He should just not go. It wasn’t worth the embarrassment, and it wasn’t even a royal court. He should just tell Geralt not to bother.

Oh but he was weak. A whole evening living out his dreams. How could he say no?

He allowed himself a moment to ogle Geralt’s sinfully round arse whilst the witcher wasn’t looking in his direction, sighing wistfully. He wondered if he would be allowed to squeeze it tonight. It had been far too long since he’d had the chance to massage Geralt and his lovely bottom.

He licked his lips and then scurried after Geralt as the witcher headed upstairs. Geralt didn’t acknowledge him as they entered their shared room. Jaskier jumped onto his bed and crossed his legs whilst he watched Geralt adjust the straps on his armour.

“You’re not wearing that tonight,” He said with a tilt of his head.

Geralt glanced over his shoulder with an exasperated look. “Why not?”

“My husband would not be wearing worn out armour to a banquet. Honestly, if you must wear armour on all occasions at least acquire some ceremonial armour or something! Something that hasn’t been covered in monster guts,” Jaskier waved his hand in the Geralt’s general direction.

“Your husband is a witcher and needs to wear appropriate clothing,” Geralt shot back, raising his eyebrow.

Jaskier glared and scooted to the edge of the bed, “My husband would know that he isn’t going tonight as a witcher or a bodyguard, so doesn’t need to wear bloodied armour.”

“It’s not bloody.”

“Stop being facetious!” Jaskier snapped stalked over to glare at Geralt. His nose pressed right up into the witcher’s space and he gripped Geralt’s shoulder.

“I’m not.”

Jaskier poked him in the chest. “You are. You know I’m right now take. it. off!”

“My husband is a bossy little shit,” Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier eventually managed to convince Geralt that a shopping trip was in order. The witcher scowled the whole time but Jaskier noticed the small flicker of a smile when they found a rather lovely new set of armour. It was a dark navy blue with black leather panels and would look rather dashing on Geralt. Jaskier just had to persuade him that it was for special occasions only. It would be a tragedy if this got ruined by griffin claws or selkimore guts. It had been too expensive for that. ___________

Jaskier’s lute was tuned and ready.

It was show time.

“Come on, darling,” Jaskier cooed as he linked his arm through Geralt’s.

Geralt grunted but let Jaskier lead the way. Jaskier smiled sweetly as he greeted his fellow musicians for the evening. He would be leading the troupe for the night’s festivities but he’d played with a couple of them before. They were a good bunch.

“And this is my husband,” He sang and gazed up at Geralt with the adoration that he usually had to hide. “Geralt of Rivia.”

Essi laughed gaily and put her hands on her hips. “Husband? Since when?”

Jaskier let out a nervous laugh. “Oh umm…well, Geralt?”

Geralt hummed. “We were hand-fasted this winter. It was a quick engagement. Jaskier hadn’t noticed I’d been trying to court him for years, too busy buttering his biscuit elsewhere.”

Jaskier’s jaw dropped before he remembered he had to stay in character. “Ah yes. A beautiful ceremony,” He squeaked. “The mountains are just sublime in the winter.”

“Hmm. It was a dream come true,” Geralt added.

“For both of us,” Jaskier agreed, smiling dopily up at Geralt.

Oh gods, he could see it all so clearly. He’d never been to the witcher’s keep but he could feel the cold mountain air on his face. He could see the puffs of breath escaping Geralt’s lips as he said his vows, eyes shining with love. He wondered what the witcher would wear for such an occasion, perhaps his new armour, or a thick dark winter cloak. The sunlight would be glittering on the snowy mountain peaks as they kissed for the first time as husbands.

Jaskier blushed and chewed on his lip, suddenly unable to meet his witcher’s gaze. It was too much. He wanted this to be real.

Fuck.

Essi narrowed her eyes and glared between the two of them, her long blonde hair falling in front of her face. “Bullshit,” She said. “I don’t believe it for a second.”

Jaskier huffed. “And why not?”

“You’re oblivious Jaskier, but not that much. You’ve been pining over Geralt for years. You would have noticed if Geralt was trying to court you.” Essi cross her arms in front of her chest.

Geralt snorted. “You would think.”

Jaskier gasped and put his hands on his hips to mirror Essi, finally letting go of Geralt’s arm. “I’ll have you know that Geralt didn’t notice my pining either.”

“I did.”

Jaskier glared up at him. “You didn’t say anything, husband,” He said pointedly. “ergo you didn’t notice.”

“We’re married now, husband,” Geralt replied in the same tone. “Let’s not fight.”

Essi still wasn’t convinced. A mischievous smile danced on her lips and Jaskier’s heart sank. He knew exactly what she was going to say before the words left her lips. “Prove it.”

“What?” He snapped.

“You’re not wearing rings, I don’t believe you’re married, or even together. Melitele knows why you would be pretending though.”

Jaskier groaned. “We’re not going to…”

His words were muffled by Geralt’s lips on his. Geralt’s hands cupped either side of his face and his lute fell off his shoulders. Jaskier moaned softly and wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck, kissing Geralt back in the way he’d always wished he could. If this was to be his only kiss with Geralt then he was bloody well going to make the most of it. Geralt’s hands slid into his hair as the kiss deepened. Jaskier whimpered against Geralt’s lips and he ran in his hands down Geralt’s back to grip his arse.

Geralt chuckled. “Behave, love.”

Jaskier opened his eyes and nipped at Geralt’s bottom lip. “Never, dearest.”

Geralt hummed and slid his hands to Jaskier’s lower back before dipping him towards the floor. Jaskier let out a surprised squeak before Geralt’s lips were on his. He melted into the kiss as Geralt pulled him back up to his feet.

Jaskier pouted as they parted, his lips chasing Geralt for one last peck. Geralt laughed softly and stroked a thumb along his cheek. His golden eyes bore down into Jaskier’s with such open affection that he felt weak at the knees.

“I love you,” Jaskier whispered, feeling the prickle of tears in his eyes. It was the only time he’d be allowed to say it out loud.

Fuck why did it hurt so much?

“Ok, alright, I get it. You’re married.” Essi snorted.

Both Geralt and Jaskier spun round to face her. Jaskier blushed, he’d forgotten his friend was there. “Yeah,” He muttered. “I. I need some air. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll come with you,” Geralt suggested.

“No!”

Geralt frowned but nodded. Jaskier was surely imagining the disappointment in the witcher’s eyes.

“I won’t be long,” He muttered and then fled to the courtyard with his lute on his back.

The cold night air was blissful as he burst through the doors. It was too hot in the hall. Geralt was too much. He was supposed to be a terrible actor. Jaskier had seen Geralt’s acting and it was really not good but for some reason, for a few moments, Jaskier had been utterly convinced.

“Get a grip, Jask,” He ran his hands through his hair and looked up at the stars. “There was no wedding. It’s just an act. He doesn’t love you. Stop acting like a fool!”

He paced outside for a few minutes, fingers dancing on his lute strap. “He doesn’t love you,” He kept repeating the words. Each time was like a dagger in his heart but he prayed to all the gods that his heart would finally get the fucking message. “He will never love you.”

“Who told you that?”

Jaskier tripped up and barely managed to stay on his feet as his eyes found Geralt. The witcher was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He looked… amused?

The fucker.

“Well it’s fucking obvious isn’t it?” Jaskier snapped with a wide wave of his hands.

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”

“Yes!” He paused. “Isn’t it?”

Geralt pushed off the wall and stalked towards Jaskier. Jaskier couldn’t help but stumble back. His heart was too fragile he wasn’t ready to face Geralt, not yet. Blasted witcher was getting his hopes up again. He whimpered as Geralt took his hand and brought his wrist up to his lips.

“No,” Geralt insisted.

“Oh.”

“Hmm.” Geralt turned Jaskier’s hand over and brushed a kiss against his knuckles. “At first I thought you knew. The new boots, sharing whatever I’d hunted, the necklace…” Geralt trailed off.

“Oh,” Jaskier said again, feeling his cheeks heat up. “I just thought… yay presents?”

Oh gods, he’d been an idiot.

“And then when I bought you the dagger last summer?” Geralt asked with a tilt of his head. “You just smiled and said thank you. Not even a kiss on the cheek. I knew then you had no idea. I’ve seen your dalliances, knew you weren’t bothered by propriety.”

Jaskier groaned and buried his face in Geralt’s chest. “I’ve been an idiot.”

“Mhmm.”

“I just thought you were sick of defending me all the time!”

Geralt snorted. “There’s that too.”

“So… the dagger?” Jaskier asked quietly. He was a former noble. He knew the significance of jewelled daggers as a courting gift, but he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

“I was asking you to marry me.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier groaned. “Seriously, fuck it all. How did I not see? I’m supposed to be a bard!”

Geralt’s finger tilted his chin up and he pouted up at the witcher. “So you see, it’s not impossible.”

Jaskier smiled weakly and then laughed as he remembered, “That’s why you agreed to be my plus one!”

Geralt nodded. “You were joking but,” he shrugged “why not?”

“You knew I loved you!” Jaskier cupped Geralt’s cheek.

“I hoped.”

“Can I kiss you?” Jaskier asked quietly. “For real this time.”

Geralt smirked and brushed his nose against Jaskier’s. “Was real last time.”

“Geralt!” He whined.

“You can kiss me.”

And so he did.

That winter they were married at Kaer Morhen and it was everything that Jaskier had imagined and more. ______ Tag list: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @awitchersbard  @innocentcinnamonpun @marvagon @elliestormfound @geraskier-trashh @panerato @moonysourenza @artistsfuneral @victorieschild @hailhailsatan @wherethewordsare @havenoffandoms @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @electricrituals @geralt-of-riviass @00qtee @kittynannygaming @stinastar @scribblesonmapleleaves @thecomfortofoldstorries @fontegagrilledcheese @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose

[ladyeroway]

Ezra Gage

 Shamelessly stolen from @lilactiefling and the character meme[X]

1) What is the character’s go-to drink order? (this one gets into how do they like to be publicly perceived, because there is always some level of theatricality to ordering drinks at a bar/restaurant)

Ezra does enjoy hot drinks and almost exclusively drinks black coffee and tea. Given his issues around sleep he drinks far more than he probably should. He doesn’t drink alcohol often, and in recent years has mostly given it up totally. He will occasionally have a brandy if it was rude not to take an alcoholic drink but he isn’t really comfortable with letting go of control by heavily drinking.

2. What is their grooming routine? (how do they treat themselves in private)

Ezra is very meticulous. He is a police officer and a detective and as such is a face of the Met so he takes care of his appearance. He shaves every day and takes great care to style his hair back so he looks put together. He isn’t one to spend a lot of time pampering himself as that would involve looking in the mirror too long which can be too uncomfortable for him seeing his markings. 

3. What was their most expensive purchase/where does their disposable income go? (Gets you thinking about socio-economic class, values, and how they spend their leisure time)

His gramophone was by far his most expensive purchase but it is one of the few pleasures that he spends time and money on. He is a big fan of classical music and the piano. It reminds him of his mother who used to play. Any disposable income goes towards new records and good tobacco. Especially for his pipe, so he can sit in the evening, unwind with some music and a smoke before he continues on his cases. 

4. Do they have any scars or tattoos? (good way to get into literal backstory)

Ezra doesn’t have any tattoo’s. His biggest scar is the one on his abdomen which is about 8 inches across where he was stabbed by a serial killer. Of course most of his “scars” are his markings, the black veins on his chest, neck and forearms. His hands are also black from fingers to forearms and icy cold. His hands read as condensed spectral energy which was why they are marked the way they are.

5. What was the last time they cried, and under what circumstances? (Good way to get some *emotional* backstory in.)

He hasn’t cried in a long time. And he probably should as he keeps his emotions very bottled up. The last time was in the hospital when he was injured. He was grieving the loss of his best friend and his partner. Oliver’s wife, Clara came to see him once in the hospital and he was so ashamed of not saving Oliver and his physical changes, when she left, he let out all the grief. 

6. Are they an oldest, middle, youngest or only child? (This one might be a me thing, because I LOVE writing/reading about family dynamics, but knowing what kinds of things were ‘normal’ for them growing up is important.)

He was an only child. Which partially explains why he isn’t the best socially. He was a conscientious child and didn’t make a lot of friends. Where many of the kids he grew up around wanted to play. He spent most of his time studying, determined to get into a good school so that he could pursue his career and move his parents and himself out of the Rookery. 

7. Describe the shoes they’re wearing. (This is a big catch all, gets into money, taste, practicality, level of wear, level of repair, literally what kind of shoes they require to live their life.)

Given how dangerous the world of Unhallowed Metropolis is, it is extremely important to be armoured up. Ezra has armoured leather boots that cover up to his thigh. This protects him from any potential animate when he is investigating murders. They are very expensive and he takes good care of them.. 

8. Describe the place where they sleep. (ie what does their safe space look like. How much (or how little) care / decoration / personal touch goes into it.)

Ezra has a bedroom...technically. But he doesn’t sleep there unless he is injured. Ezra’s safe space is his office. He keeps his flat very clean and without much personal possessions but his office is filled to the brim with files and research from cases. There are books and files on every surface of his large desk and all the shelves and filing cabinets. The chair is large and comfortable and he often wakes up there trying to get to the bottom of who killed his partner. 

 He keeps a few personal possessions here, a few pictures of his parents and of Oliver, Clara and the kids. The things he cared about and the things he has lost. 

9. What is their favorite holiday? (How do they relate to their culture/outside world. Also fun is least favorite holiday.)

Ezra doesn’t celebrate holiday’s. He used to enjoy going around to the Sinclair’s on boxing day as often worked the holidays to give time off to those with families and children. 

10. What objects do they always carry around with them? (What do they need for their normal, day-to-day routine? What does ‘normal’ even look like for them.)

A notepad, and pencils are his go to for taking notes on cases. He also keeps a spare set of gloves in his bag. Alternating between his leather gloves for being outside and a soft cotton set for indoors or when it would be seen as impolite to be wearing the leather set. He also carries around extra collars and cravats incase they get dirty or damaged. Because he wears his collars to hide the black veins on his neck this is an important safety net for him. He also always carries his rebreather, despite the fact he doesn’t have to use it, it makes others feel more comfortable. And of course his Heavy Pistol is always on him to deal with the horrors of Unhallowed London. 

[acourtofsnakes]

Ret'urcye Mhi - Rogue, Chapter 7 | The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (F)

Summary: Can things go back to normal after the Mandalorian saw you break down? Or have walls been torn down that can’t be replaced?

Warnings: Light swearing, I don’t want to give it away but no smut but… a ‘moment’ with some certainly hot thoughts and pining but nothing heavy though, reader has a back tattoo, let me know if I forgot anything!

AN: I have brought in Cara Dune in this, and she will be a frequent character. I by no means condone what Gina Carano did, and I am pleased and relieved that she is gone. However, I do like her character, as many others do. She IS only mentioned in this one briefly but will be a main character in a few future chapters. 

Also, Readers tattoo is loosely based on this design!(link)  I’m not sure who the exact creator is, but it was posted by Urban Threads on Pinterest, but if you know, please tell me! ❤️

Word Count: 8231

As always, credit to whoever owns the gif. I usually find them on Google or Pinterest, so message me if it’s yours ♥︎

Rogue Taglist:  @snipskixandbeskar   @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss​ @jackgrzs

Rogue Masterlist | Introduction| 1: Solus| 2: Arir | 3: Tor | 4: Gaa'tayl | 5: Kyr’am | 6: Cabur | 7: Ret'urcye Mhi |

Mando’a Translation: Ret'urcye mhi - Goodbye

Neither of you mentioned that afternoon. 

It hadn’t come up in the 3 days since, and it hadn’t come up today. You made sure of it. 

Every time Mando looked at you, and you just felt he was going to mention it, you’d change the subject. Or just walk away. You didn’t need to have that conversation with him. You couldn’t have that conversation with him. Or anyone. 

The Mandalorian had sat there, holding you for the hours it took for you to cry yourself out. When the shuddering sobs had given way to hitched breaths and a numb stare, he’d still sat there. Rubbing your back in gentle circles, in time with Duru’s tail gently swaying over your arm. He hadn’t uttered a single word either, just letting you break down in his arms. 

When the quiet ambiance of the ship and the pressure of his hand had lulled you into sleep, he’d carried you to his bed – well, the narrow cot that jutted out from the wall in what was supposed to be the medical area. He’d given up his sleeping compartment to Grogu a long time ago, to keep the little creature warm and safe. 

He’d laid you in, covering you with the blanket and then one more that he pulled out from a unit. 

You were asleep, so you hadn’t seen the way his gloved fingers gently brushed back the hair from your tear flushed cheeks, the way they’d lingered for a moment as he’d looked down at the soft strands gliding over his fingers. You hadn’t felt the way he’d frozen when a sudden want crashed through him, to yank off his gloves and run his bare hands through your hair, feel the silkiness and the texture for himself. 

And you also wouldn’t have noticed the way his breathing went ragged for a moment and he’d lurched back, stumbling away so quickly he nearly overturned a box on his way out of the door. 

Your sleep hadn’t remained easy. Only a few hours later, you had woken up screaming, unsure of where you were, why you were on a thin cot that smelled like metal and smoke and something distinctly unique and almost like sandalwood. It was somehow comforting, soothing. You had inhaled the scent, trying to calm down your pounding heard and regain control of your breathing.  

It was only when you could suck in a full breath that you realised where you were, who’s bed this was. 

A feeling of gratefulness had crashed over you, only to be immediately wiped out by shame. You had broken down in front of him, spat such awful, awful things to his face.

And when you heard footsteps outside the compartment door, the husky baritone of his voice as he called out your name softly, you’d gone still. Like you were back on the run, mere inches away from a hunter and one move would mean disaster. 

He’d lingered, you could see by the shadows of his feet under the tiny gap at the bottom of the door. A wild thought had come to you, that he had his hand pressed to the door and you could just.. open it. Open it and let him come in, let him carry the burden of your nightmares and your feelings even If it was just for a little while. You could share some of those plaguing thoughts that you’d unleashed today. And he would listen. You didn’t know him that well, but you knew him enough to be confident he would sit there, let you talk. He knew what it was like to be alone, to have emotions and worries that you had no choice to bear yourself. 

The temptation was so strong, you craved that contact and connection so much that you were halfway across the room before your snarling argument came back in full technicolour. The things you’d said to him. The appalling way you’d acted. 

No.

You couldn’t see him. You couldn’t face him after that. After what you had said and the way you had cracked. You shook your head firmly, waiting until you heard a sigh so soft you might have imagined it and retreating footsteps. 

It was only then you that you returned to the bed, pulling the twin blankets up high over your shoulders. 

You’d deal with seeing him in the morning, but for now, all you could do was bury your face in the thin pillow and try not to notice how it smelt like him.

Something had changed between the two of you since that afternoon. He had glimpsed a part of you that you normally kept perfectly hidden, even from yourself. 

…

You were on your way to another bounty, one of the last couple of pucks that Mando had left. 

Mando had mentioned it was a hot, desert planet and he’d prefer it if you stayed in the ship with Grogu. It’d be far too hot for the little guy out there. You had obliged happily, more than fine to stay in. You didn’t like to be too hot, it made you uncomfortable and agitated. 

The cockpit was quiet, a peaceful silence had descended upon it as Mando flew the ship. 

You’d found yourself drawn to watching his hands lately. There was something… oddly soothing about it. Watching him work the controls, hold Grogu, clean his weapons. 

You wondered if he missed the sensation of touch, and then wondered if yours and the kids presence here made it harder for him. Meant he had less chances to take off his armour and be free of it. 

Of course, that had then led you onto the thought of wondering if he slept naked when he was alone. 

The thought of him lying there, nothing hiding him, separating him from the world. 

The thin blankets sliding over the body you knew was toned, yet soft enough in all the right places. 

It made your mouth a little dry, your cheeks a little pink and you struggled to find something else to think about. 

Your eyes drifted to his hands again, remembering the sound of the gloves being drawn off the other night. 

They were mesmerising, agile, and you couldn’t stop thinking about them in your hair, on your skin. 

Stars above, get a grip, girl. 

You mentally scolded yourself for these thoughts, trying to steer your damned imagination onto something more appropriate. 

Luckily, your saviour came in the form of Mando himself. He tilted his head back slightly, enough for you to know he was talking to you, “What’s your favourite planet? Or one you’d like to visit?” 

The question surprised you, you had to admit. You weren’t used to people asking about your likes and dislikes. You smiled though, perhaps this was his gentle way to break any tension left over. “Hmm… I think… I’d have to say the planet I’d like to visit most... either Hoth or Coruscant.”

Mando laughed, that gorgeous rough, honey laugh, “Okay, Coruscant I can understand, but Hoth? Really?”

You pouted at the back of his head, “Yes!! It sounds beautiful.”

The Mandalorian laughed more, “Beautiful? Sweetheart, it’s covered in ice. It’s freezing there. All you would see is ice and snow… and more ice and more snow.”

You scowled at him now, throwing the leftover wrapper of Grogu’s cookies at his helmet, “And? Snow and ice are stunning. They’re powerful and strong. I’ve only ever been in a proper snowfall once, and I fell in love. The way the flakes float down and.. dance even if there’s the faintest breeze. And then when they land on your skin or your eyelashes like little cold kisses… The sound it makes under your boots when you walk on a fresh fall. And it softens everything, makes it easier on your eyes to see across the landscape… it’s quiet, muffled… Besides, I like the cold.”

Little did you know, Mando was grinning like an idiot under his helmet, adoring the way you defend it to him, the way you describe something as simple as ice and snow. “You like the cold, huh? Then why are you always grumbling that the heating is broken?” The teasing lilt to his voice was evident, so animated and content, compared to his usual cooler, calm silence.

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. “That is… completely irrelevant.” You looked at the back of his head, “What about you? If my choices are so hilarious.”

The Mandalorian made a thoughtful noise, “I wouldn’t say there’s one place in particular… But… there’s a few sanctuary planets dotted around. Places with really pretty, dense forests where you could walk for days and not spot anyone else. They’re protected and safe, no dangerous animals or anything allowed… literally sanctuaries. I’d like to take Grogu there… let him wander and have fun and eat things he shouldn’t without having to look over my shoulder.” 

It was the most you’d ever heard him speak in one go, and there was a tenderness in his voice that brought tears to your eyes. This man truly loved his little green adoptive son and would do anything for him. “That sounds... stunning. I’ve heard of those planets and always wondered what they were like...” 

He made a hum of agreement, fingers working over the control panel as he put it in autopilot. “One day…” He turned around in his chair, “What about your favourite colour?” 

You moved to sit cross-legged in the seat, defying the concept of a chair. “Blue. Darker blues, like a midnight blue.” You swayed your chair from side to side slightly, “Actually, the same colour as the cloak you got me. So well done, kudo’s for you.”

Mando leant back in his own chair, tapping the side of his helmet before resting his hands on his thighs again. “This thing lets me read minds; you know.”

You began pulling the pins from your hair, “Mmhm, and I can fly.” You raise an eyebrow at him, grinning. 

He chuckled, watching you intently behind the helmet though you wouldn’t know that, watching every pin get removed from holding up your hair, “It wouldn’t surprise me at this point, princess.” He tapped his thighs absently, “You wanna know the real secret?”

You nodded, reaching in for a pin that had become stuck deep in your hair, the last one. “Surprise me.” Got it. You yanked the pin out, letting your hair fall down and your fingers through it. You sighed a little in relief as you rubbed your fingertips against your scalp, chasing away any tightness from the day. 

Mando didn’t say anything. He was too distracted, to struck into silence by the sight of your hair. 

The light from the ship and coming in through the windows turned some of the strands to gold, igniting them with that fire that blazed within you – and that he’d been on the receiving end. 

His hands tightened over his thighs, because he was overtaken by a craving, a need to remove your hands and feel your hair for himself. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d had these thoughts. 

Fuck, he’d been having these thoughts since he first saw you. He just hadn’t realised them until that night he’d nearly lost his life and woken up to you passed out on his chest. 

He’d frozen, even his breathing stopping as he felt the warm weight of you, even though the armour. 

He couldn’t bear to move you, to take away that pressure, the closeness of another human that he had missed for so long. 

So, he hadn’t. He left you there. Spent hours watching you sleep, the warmth of your breath slightly fogging up the armour on his chest. 

“Lori? Anyone in there?” You tilted your head, watching the man before you that was staring at you intently, his breathing somewhat ragged. 

He startled slightly, coming back to himself, “Huh?”

You chuckled, “Where did you go? I was waiting for you to knock me off my feet with your revelation.”

He made a noise, “Uh… I.. actually can’t remember...” He tugged at his glove, an odd gesture so at odds with his usual confident demeanour. 

You tilted your head, still smiling a little, “Are you okay?”

Luckily, he was saved from answering by the beeping of the controls behind him. 

You’d arrived at the planet. 

~

It was hot. 

Beyond hot. 

The air was warm, the water was warm, you were warm. 

And already awake, having just calmed your breathing down from another nightmare, when you heard Grogu, his little coos and gurgled filtering down the hall to you. 

The poor little creature had probably woken up from the heat. You had been on this desert planet for a couple of days, opting to stay in and look after the Child whilst Mando hunted down the bounty. The days here were scorching, a dry heat that sucked the life from you immediately. Even the nights were hot, unlike normal freezing desert nights. 

Mando had returned this evening, panting from the heat after coming up from the carbonite chamber. “I swear it’s getting hotter out there.”

The cooling system on the Crest was just as temperamental as the heating, so it wasn’t exactly cool in here. The metal floors, which were normally always chilled, were warm underfoot. Mando had let you keep his room, and it was just as hot, being contained in with itself, so you’d been sleeping with the doors open. 

Not that it made a dent. Every single closed space was like a heat trap, especially Grogu’s little compartment. So, no wonder he had woken up. 

You stretched, then slipped from the cot and made your way to Grogu.

It didn’t take long to settle him, he was all tuckered out from the games you’d been playing today, so after patting his skin with a cool cloth, he had fallen back under. 

You were now at the small ‘kitchen’ area in the ship, washing out the cloth. You huffed, splashing some water on your wrists and pulling out the pin that was holding up your hair, and falling out. Grogu had a habit of tugging the ends of your hair in his little fist. 

You’d taken to wearing a thin floaty dress to bed, one you’d picked up in that market before it had turned into a horror show. The material was gauzy, allowing the heat to escape your body without it sticking to your clammy skin. What helped enormously was the large cut out in the back. It secured at the back of your neck, and then fell open, exposing almost your whole back before joining again at the base of your spine. 

It was probably the flimsiest, most sinful thing you’d ever worn, but it was gorgeous and hey, it did the job. 

You rolled your shoulders, pressing the cool cloth to your neck and you couldn’t help the sigh that escaped your lips and you could have sworn you heard a sizzle. 

Footsteps behind you startled you, breaking you from your reverie, and then Mando’s voice filtered through the silence, “Are you okay?”

You turned around, smiling when you saw him because he was still in all his armour… not that you were surprised. He must have been boiling though, under all those heavy layers. 

You nodded, lifting the cloth from your neck, “The kid was awake, but I settled him down, he was really warm.”  

His head was covered, naturally, so you wouldn’t have seen the way his eyes followed a bead of water rolling down your neck, and the unbidden thought of his tongue catching it “Thank you for seeing to him, I didn’t hear..” 

Weird. Normally he was so attuned to Grogu, hearing him before he even woke up if you were sitting together. Maybe he was tired, from his hunting. 

What you didn’t know, couldn’t know, was that he had been staring at the ceiling for the 3rd night in a row. Having thoughts that he should not be having, his body yearning for things it shouldn’t. 

You shook your head, still smiling and turned back to the sink area, “It’s no worries, I was awake anyway so… And you’ve been hunting. You deserve the rest.” You set down the cloth, running your hands through your hair and reaching for your pin to secure it back up. You faced him again, gathering your hair in your hands, “How was it?”

But he wasn’t listening. 

He suddenly moved forward, and then he was in front of you. “Wait.” His voice was low, almost strained. There was a husk to it that hadn’t been there before, but it ignited something within you. 

You froze, your hands still stuck in your hair. You looked up at him, raising your eyebrows slightly, “What..?” It was only now he was right in front of you that you could see his chest, rising and falling rapidly. “Mando, are you okay?”

He shook his head quickly, his helmet tilted down to you, his hands curling and uncurling at his sides, “Let your hair down.” His voice was still that rumbly order, and it was such an odd request that you did just that, letting it tumble back down again. Your own hands trembled slightly as you lowered them. 

A shudder seemed to roll through his body, and he rocked forward on his feet, lurching toward you in a movement that lacked his usual smooth elegance. It was unsteady, unsure. 

He stopped when he was a mere few inches away, the closest you’d been to each other since that afternoon. 

This close, you could practically feel the heat roiling off of him under his armour, and you tilted your head up to meet him, concern in your eyes, “Mando, you need to go and have a cold shower.. You sound like you’re burning up… do you feel flushed?” 

He shook his head jerkily, his hands raising, “Shh… please. I just.. I need to..” He broke off, a sharp intake of air cutting his words. 

Something else began to curl through the worry in your belly, like some instinct knew things you didn’t. You swallowed, your voice low when you next spoke, “You need to what..?”

The Mandalorian was shaking, his body tensing and untensing like he was fighting himself, telling himself not to do this. “I.. I need to touch your hair.” 

Stars, you could feel the flush that crept up his neck and cheeks, like it burned through his helmet but you stayed completely still. 

His words were whispered through gritted teeth, like he was physically trying to bite them back, “I just... I need to do this, please… I’m sorry, but I cant-” He sounded like he was in pain, still breathing raggedly. 

Heat flared through your blood, igniting a flame within you that was irresistible. You nodded, letting him see you, “Okay.” Like you could say no to him. 

The vocoder nearly didn’t pick up the huff of relief that escaped his lips and he curled his hands into fists again, “Turn around. And close your eyes.” That rough command was back and you were more than obliging to let him navigate this moment. 

You turned around, facing the kitchen area, looking over the darkened surroundings before shutting your eyes. It immediately threw all your other senses into overdrive, so you could hear every single rasp of his breath as you exposed your skin to him, and the pounding of your own heart. 

“You have to keep them closed. You cannot turn around or look.” There was a desperate plea in his voice, an edge to it that hurt your very soul. He was audibly torn, between his Creed… and this desire that he seemed to have given into. 

You nodded again, aching to reach back and reassure him, “I won’t. I won’t open my eyes or turn around until you tell me, I swear on it, Lori.” You let every ounce of truth and understanding seep through your words, praying that it would be enough to convince him he could trust you. 

Seemingly, it was, because the next noise that you heard could have struck you dead. 

It was the sound of leather rubbing against skin, the friction as they were pulled off, then a soft thump of the material on the floor. 

He had taken off his gloves. 

He was standing behind you… with his hands bare. 

You. A person he hasn’t known for very long at all, and he was partially bare, uncovered. 

Your head exploded, a million thoughts racing through it once, sending your heart into overdrive and your own breathing rapid and unsteady. 

There was a pause, like he was steeling himself and then… then the slightest sensation, like he was catching the ends of your hair, just brushing them. 

That simple movement sent a shiver down your spine, and it was enough to get him to move more. He lifted his hands and then you felt fingers slide into your hair at the back of your head, then slowly, slowly, drag down the length. 

You heard a sharp intake of breath behind you, and then a soft mutter, “It’s so soft..” You barely picked it up, even though the ship was silent. The fingers ghosted through your hair again, and his voice was bewildered, “How do you get it this soft in that tiny ‘fresher..” It was like he was talking to himself. 

You couldn’t help the soft laugh, a release of tension from this whole thing, “I can’t reveal my secrets, Lori. Can’t have your hair being softer than mine. There’s only room for one on this ship.”

He chuckled, and it ran over your bones like honey, dousing them in such a sweet sensation. “I’ll get it out of you one way or another, princess.” 

You rolled your eyes but didn’t get the chance to speak because then his fingers were running up your scalp from the base of your head to the crown, with a light pressure and the feeling was so unbelievably good, that you couldn’t help it. Your head leant back into his touch and the faintest sigh left your lips. “Keep doing that..” Your cheeks flushed, embarrassment crashing over you. Why did you have to say that?

The Mandalorian’s hands had paused, absorbing that soft sigh of pleasure and trying to cool his body. But you had a hold over him, he couldn’t say no. He merely did it again, with a firmer press of his fingers against your scalp, a light scrape of his nails just to get you to make that noise again, to be convinced that you were enjoying this just as much as he was.

You didn’t stop the next sigh, this one louder, more delighted. It was like you knew what the other was thinking, could read each other that well.  

He was driving you insane, rendering you speechless just from playing with your hair. 

You don’t know how long you stood there for, his hands running through the soft locks. 

He lifted it slightly, then made a soft noise. “I didn’t know you had a tattoo.”

A tattoo? Oh right. 

It was true, you did. It was a delicate piece, spanning from the top of your spine to just above your hips, lining your spine. It showed the phases of the moon, drawn in a minimalist style, with small stars and additional lines coming out of every other piece. 

You nodded quickly, “I’ve had it for years.” Fuck, could your voice sound anymore needy?

“What does it mean?” His words were murmured and then the next thing could have had you on your knees. 

You heard a sound that had haunted you since the night he nearly died, the sound of leather sliding over skin. The soft plop as it fell to the floor. 

No way. Has he just..

His fingers, his bare fingers ghosted down your spine, following the line of it with a touch so fleeting it almost made you whine. 

In fact, it did, a whimper rising from deep in your chest. 

He was touching you. 

His bare skin, skin that he had sworn by Creed to keep covered and hidden until marriage, was trailing down your spine as light as wings. 

Pleasure shot straight though you, making your nerves and blood sing, making your knees shake and your belly hot. 

A tug on your hair, a tug that was sharp enough to send a faint tinge of pain through your scalp had you moaning, you couldn’t help it. Your lips parted and the moan fell from them, soft, a little high and drawn. 

Mando swore under his breath, his whole body twitching behind yours, “I asked you a question, sweetheart.” There was a hoarseness to his voice that hadn’t been there before, a straining note like your moan had shot right through him. Which is had. 

What does it mean… what does it mean? Focus!!

“Um… right. When I was on the run, initially in the beginning, I never had a place to call home. Everything I knew had been torn away, and I could never settle anywhere. Every night, I would look up into the sky and watch the moon. No matter what planet I was on, no matter where I was, or if there two moons or 4, it was always there. I only had to look up, and there was something up there to ground me, give me some sense of comfort. It might look smaller, or be a different colour, but it was still the moon. And it made me feel… safe. Like it was a… a companion in a way. I just had to look a little closer, beneath the colours or the distance and there it was. It was always in the sky, so I wanted to get it tattooed so that it would always be with me. No matter if I was outside, as free as I could be, or inside and trapped.” You flushed a little, “That probably makes no sense and sounds so stupid.”

You could sense the Mandalorian shaking his head, his voice still low and soft, “No.. I think it’s beautiful. And I get it. I move around so much too, there’s only a few things that always remain the same. So I know the value of having something familiar.” He ghosted his fingers down it again, trailing all the way down to where the cut out portion of your dress stopped and then back up again. 

When his hand reached the top of the tattoo, he slid it up further, cupping the back of your neck in his broad, warm hand. 

It sent electricity shooting across your skin, that blazed as he wrapped his thumb and fingers around either side of your neck, just a gentle pressure there. 

You moaned again; you didn’t even try to hide it. Your head fell back, exposing your throat to him in a sign of instinctual submission, even though you knew he wouldn’t kiss you. You didn’t mind, you just needed more, more than this teasing touch, more than the faint brush of his fingertips. Your chest shuddered, knuckles white as you gripped the counter in an effort to stay still, “Lori…” You whined his name, hoping it would spark something in him, would force him to do something. 

You felt him shudder again, felt his hips draw back from your body like he was trying to hide just what these noises did to him. 

Fuck. 

It burned you, turned your belly molten and the power that washed over you was heady. You had turned him on just from your hair, your skin and your moans. 

The voice that came out was equally as tight, husky and you might have lived and died inside the low baritone “What is it, princess?”

Your fingers curled around the side of the counter in front of you, and you were glad he couldn’t see your face when you whispered, “Please..”. Your voice was low, pleading and aching. 

You felt him shudder behind you, a tiny groan echoing through the helmet.

His next words nearly undid you there and then, “Like I could say no to you.”

Then his fingers pressed into your spine, caressing down your back over the tattoo with such admiration, such warmth that it arched slightly, chasing more of that sensation. 

Your head was spinning, convinced you were dreaming, that this wasn’t real. 

This didn’t happen between you both. 

You flirted, sure. But that was harmless, playful. 

This… this was real. He was letting you feel his bare skin, uncovered and unhidden. 

And it was tearing you apart. 

The scrape of his thumbnail on your skin tore you from those thoughts, ripped you back to the present as it ran down the curve of your back. If your eyes had been open, they would have rolled into the back of your head. 

Your head fell forward, back arching completely into him and the sound that you let out was sinful. You could only concentrate on the that sharp, pleasurable hurt that you felt in your belly, the feeling of his other hand as it held your shoulder, holding you in that arch. 

Heat pooled low in your belly, and every dream, every thought you’d been trying to suppress about him came blasting into full technicolour. All because of his hands. 

Those damn hands you’d been pining over since saving his life. 

His head was so close over your shoulder that you could hear the low pant of his breath, the coolness of his armour barely brushing your shoulders as you pressed back into him. 

Fuck, did he want this as much as you did? 

By the way his hand tightened, he had to. You didn’t know how you knew it, but you did. 

You swallowed, licking your lips to say something, anything, spur him on but a harsh beeping suddenly broke through the thick tension on the room. A light was flashing, and by the time the fog of pleasure cleared in your head, he was gone. 

Gloves picked up and yanked on, boots disappearing up the ladder into the cockpit to check on the autopilot. 

The taut sensation in your body snapped, making you sink to the floor as though the strings had been cut.

You lifted shaking hands to your face, burying them in them with a low noise. Your head was a mess, you couldn’t get over it. Couldn’t stop feeling his fingers on your back, your hair. Hear the ragged pant of his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest against your shoulders. 

It was just touch, just the simple act of touch but it had igniting something so fierce within you. 

Something had changed. 

What the fuck was that?

You sat there on the floor for Maker knows how long, before dragging yourself up and hurrying off in search of a very, very cold shower. 

~

You weren’t quite sure how to face him the next morning. 

You had taken your cold shower, and it had done nothing to cool the fire in your blood so you had to take the initiative, hoping the crash of the water and the fact you were biting down the back of your free hand would cover the desperate moans you made. 

Little did you know, the Mandalorian was going through the exact same thing, back arched, lips biting into his lip to stop the groans. 

You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, stop thinking about what had occurred between you. 

Surely it broke some kind of rules of his Creed?

He had touched you with his bare skin. You weren’t married. You weren’t together. You didn’t even know his name. 

Yet he had touched you and.. reacted to you. 

Maybe that was just instinct, his body’s natural response to such things. 

But he had carried on… until you were disturbed anyway. 

Your head went round and round in these circles until your body had calmed down enough to sleep. 

…

You rose early, wanting to be washed, dressed and ready and doing something to occupy you before you had to think too much about what you were going to say.  Maybe just… Good morning?

Sure. Good morning was fine. 

Normal. 

It totally didn’t reveal what you’d had to do in the shower, or the thoughts you were still having about it. 

You had this discussion with yourself all the way up the ladder of the cockpit, and when you rose to your height, you blurted it out in a cheery voice before you could bail, “Morning!”

Breezy. Nailed it. 

The Mandalorian was sitting in the pilot’s chair, fiddling with controls and levers, gloves firmly on. “Good morning. Did you sleep okay in the heat?” 

You nodded, sinking down into the pilots chair and feeding Duru a treat, “Yes, thank you. Finally.” You stroked under Duru’s chin, your eyes straying to those hands as he slide them over some switches. 

The same hands that had cupped the back of your neck and trailed fire down your spine. 

A flush started to creep along your cheeks, so you quickly looked away, “Did you?”

The light bounced off of his helmet as he nodded, “Yes, thank you.”

Polite. His words were polite. Almost... distant. 

Okay… Okay, so maybe he just feels awkward?

You bit your bottom lip, worried if you should say something. 

No, leave it. He no doubt feels over-exposed and maybe shy about what happened last night. Don’t bring it up. Just act normal.

You nodded faintly to yourself and returned your attention back to Duru. 

~

Mando was ignoring you. 

You had been trying to deny it, but he most certainly was. 

Yesterday, he had engaged in talking to you now and then throughout the day, but only passing comments and a few spare words. 

You had spoken more when you were beating the shit out of each other. 

You kept telling yourself that it was just lingering awkwardness from how to go back to normal after that night, but the gnawing in your gut told you otherwise. 

It had been shouting at you this morning when he had parked the ship on a planet, announced he was going hunting and he’d be back in a few hours. 

Then he’d just gone. 

You had waited for him all day, mooched around the ship, played with Grogu and Duru and tried not to worry. 

You sat up for hours, even when the little ones had gone to sleep, waiting to talk to him. 

You’d convinced yourself that you should talk about. You should tell him you didn’t expect anything from him. That you didn’t hate him, that he didn’t hurt you or anything like that. 

Just to tell him whatever you needed to stop this frostiness. 

You had it all planned, had every phrase and comment worked out to stop this atmosphere. 

About 15 minutes ago, you’d heard the ramp open. 3 minutes after that, the hiss and echo of the carbonite chamber. 

Then you’d heard him go and check on the kid, then go to his quarters. 

And now, it was his booted feet on the steps to the cockpit that held your attention. 

You took a deep breath, prayed to the Maker and spun your seat to face him as he rose up. 

The mere sight of that beskar-clad body set your heart thumping, but you coaxed an easy smile on your lips anyway. “Hey, how was the hunt? Cause you any trouble?”

Mando didn’t turn his head to look at you, just padded over to his seat and spun it to the control panel, “It was fine. Easy.” His words were clipped, not harsh, just… efficient. Straight to the point. 

You swallowed, your courage faltering a little. 

Mentally, you scolded yourself. You didn’t falter in the face of a man who’d touched you and now wouldn’t talk to you. You didn’t whimper and pander to a tense atmosphere. 

You sat up a little straighter, pulling your shoulders back and you looked over at him. 

Now or never. 

“About the other night-”

“I’m taking you to Nevarro.”

What?

You had both spoken at the same time, your eyes now bewildered as you beheld him. “What?”

He said nothing, just fiddled with some controls. 

“Mando, what do you mean?” Your voice was shocked, but steady. Did nothing to betray the shock that had just hit your chest like a punch. 

You didn’t hear him swallow, only heard his words, “I’m taking you to Nevarro. We’re on the way now.” He said them softly, evenly. 

Hearing it again only made your heart drop to somewhere around your waist. 

He was leaving you. Dumping you on some planet. And going. 

Your hand tapped your leg as sort of nervous habit, and then the words were out, “Is this because of the other night?” 

It was his turn to sound bewildered, his head just turning to the side, but you knew he couldn’t see you in his peripheral, “What? What do you mean?” 

Your heart was starting to beat uncomfortably in your chest, a sense of shame beginning to creep over you, “Because of what happened in the kitchen. I didn’t see you, I didn’t see your skin.”

Mando turned to face you, one hand still on the panel, his hair half turned but head rotated all the way to look at you, “No, no it’s not because of that-“

You cut him off, “You didn’t… you didn’t offend me. Or hurt me. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry if.. if my reaction made you feel awkward or think something. I don’t.. I don’t expect anything from you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I never have, so please don’t think that.” You flushed, the shame colouring your cheeks. You couldn’t help it. But this was the reason, right? The only reason why he would be dumping you. 

He shook his head, “Stop. Stop..” His voice softened slightly, “No. It’s not because of… that. I know you didn’t see me. And I know you don’t expect anything from me.” He took a breath, “I’m taking you to Nevarro to keep you safe. That’s all. I have friends there, Cara Dune and Greef Karga. They’ll look after you. They’ve already set up accommodation for you, so you don’t need to worry about that. 

They already knew? 

Something like hurt flashed in your eyes, colouring your tone, “They… You already planned this..?” There was no bite in your voice like you would normally have in this situation, you were too shocked by the sudden change in direction your journey was taking. 

Mando tilted his head, “I contacted them whilst I was on the hunt… I wanted it set up before we got there, so you wouldn’t stand out to anyone looking.” He still looked at you, “Is that okay?”

You sensed you wouldn’t have a choice in this. So you decided to take the high road. You wouldn’t whine about this. 

You smoothed your expression over into a mask of calm, “Yes… I was just a little surprised that’s all. But thank you, really. I’ll… set about packing my things.”

He sounded confused, his head tilting back to watch you rise from your chair, “We have a couple of days yet.”

You nodded, “Oh, I know, I just want to make sure I have everything. And all the things I want to steal from you.” You laughed, even going so far as to nudge his shoulder before escaping. 

You were gone to quickly, so you wouldn’t have seen the way he slumped in his chair, dropped his head into his hands. You wouldn’t have heard the pained sigh that escaped his lips at the thought have having to part with you. 

~

~

~

The Mandalorian stood at the top of the ramp with you, staring out across the dusty, volcanic terrain of Nevarro. Your new home for… however long. 

You said nothing, running your fingers along the edge of your cloak, observing the landscape and trying not to let any emotion show on your face. You had kept up natural conversation the past few days. Saying nothing of the wrenching pain that tore in your chest every time you remembered you were departing. 

Mando cleared his throat, one arm holding Grogu and the other hand resting on his hip in a gesture that was becoming painfully familiar, “Cara and Greef know you’re coming. They’ll be waiting in Cara’s office for you.” 

Grogu was sulking, squirming every now and then to try and get out of Mando’s grip. He had screamed the whole morning, and only calmed down when you hugged him and sung to him on the way here. 

You nodded, also trying to ignore the thoughts swirling round in your mind as to why he was leaving you here. Was it because of your argument? The way you had broken down in front of him? Or was it because of the other night? The way his fingers had run through your hair, and then trailed down your spine, mapping your tattoo. His bare fingers. The things he’d whispered to you, “I just... I need to do this, please… I’m sorry, but I cant-”

“I’ve been thinking about this for days..”

Had he known then that he was going to leave you here? Or was it after that, that he’d decided he had broken one too many rules and had to get rid of you. 

Words floated over to you, and you realised he was talking again so you hauled your attention back to the conversation at hand. 

“-safe here. No one will come looking for you. Greef has taken all the pucks that have come through with your name on them and Cara will do sweeps every couple of days to make sure.”

You looked down at your feet, a bitter feeling leeching through your veins that was getting stronger with every moment you got closer to leaving the Crest. 

“Hey… look at me..” 

It was that honey softness of the Mandalorian’s tone that finally had you looking up at him, your expression perfectly masked to hide every ounce of emotion in you aside from a calm neutrality. 

He tilted his head a little, turning his body toward you, “Please don’t think I’m dumping you here. I had planned to bring you here since I destroyed the puck and the fob.”

Like that made you feel any better. 

He must have read the flicker in your eyes, because he stepped closer, his hand lifting to your upper arm, “I want you to be safe.” You could almost feel his eyes boring into yours, “I am more than grateful for everything you’ve done for me. And the kid. More than you’ll ever know. But, travelling with me.. it only increases the target on your back. People know you’re with me. I don’t want that for you.. you deserve to be free..”

And what about what I want?

You only smiled, forcing your expression to one of a lighter one and you nudged him gently, “Hey, I get it. You have to get rid of me because I’m showing you up on hunts. Can’t have anyone destroying your infamous reputation.” You rolled your eyes, laughing even if it did send daggers into your heart. 

And his. 

He squeezed your shoulder playfully, then dropped his hand. “You’re hilarious. I told you, the day you beat me is the day the stars implode.” You could feel a line of humour in his voice though, and it softened your shoulders, made you relax. 

He was doing this to keep you safe. He had planned this for weeks so you could have a break, a chance to rest. 

So, you lifted your head a little higher, your smile becoming more real. “Thank you, Mando. For everything. I can’t ever repay you for this, for what you’ve done.” You motioned to the outside. 

He nodded, his hand resting at his sides again now, “We’ll call it even.” His head remained focused on you, lingering on you and then he reached into a pouch and held out his free hand, “Here.”

You let him drop the objects in your hand, a small stack of credits. 

“It’s not much, I know, but it’ll be enough to get you some food and supplies you need. You don’t need to worry about a place to stay, Cara will show you but… You can get what you want and need.” He withdrew his hand slowly, almost reluctantly.  

You swallowed, closing your hand around the credits and you slipped them into the pocket inside your cloak. “Thank you..”

The Mandalorian merely nodded again, leaning back against the threshold of the ramp, his thumb absently rubbing circles on Grogu’s belly.  

It seemed that there was nothing else to draw this goodbye out, so you took a breath, straightening your cloak. “Well… I guess I’ll say goodbye then.” You looked up at him, then stuck out your hand for his, realising only a few seconds later how dumb that was. 

Before you could pull your hand back, he reached out and clasped your hand in his own, wrapping his fingers around your distinctly smaller hand. “Goodbye… princess.” You heard the smirk in his voice, and you couldn’t help the chuckle and the eye roll again, not failing to notice the way his hand tightened involuntarily and then withdrew. 

You looked at Grogu in his other arm, who was still avoiding looking at the pair of you, wriggling in his father’s arms. You bent down to draw your face to his level and you stroked his ears, “I’ll miss you, little guy. Make sure to keep your dad on his toes, okay? You gotta make up for both of us now.” You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, feeling his little hand pat your cheek with a mournful noise. Tears burned the back of your eyes, so you leant back, instead picking up Duru so she could say goodbye. 

Grogu cooed sadly again, stroking Duru’s cheek, looking up at her with his glossy eyes. 

You let Duru but her head against him, chitter a goodbye and then you stepped back, allowing her to climb up your shoulders as you looked up at Mando. 

You just watched him for a moment, his armour reflecting the light on one side and then, with a soft inhale of courage, you turned and walked down the ramp, Duru padding at your feet. 

You had only just cleared the ramp, stepping onto the hard, compacted ground when Mando called out, “Wait.”

You turned quickly, hope blooming in your heart, in your expression though you tried to stop it. 

He had made a step onto the ramp, body poised like it was trying to run to you but he was holding back. He hesitated, almost as if he were torn with what to say – or what not to say, but all that came out was, “Ret'urcye mhi.”

You couldn’t help the shiver that licked down your spine, the way his voice turned into dripping honey when he spoke Mando’a. “What does that mean..?” You prayed he couldn’t hear the slight hoarseness to your tone.

He tilted his head down to look at Grogu, then lifted it back up to you, “It means goodbye…. And maybe we’ll meet again..” 

Your heart swelled a little, a flush of pain going through it but you smiled softer, your expression melting and you inclined your head slightly, “I would like that.. very much…” 

There were a million other things that threatened to roll off your tongue, pour from you but before they could, you turned around, walking toward the town and feeling his eyes on you the entire time, burning into the back of your head like a fiery brand. 

You were about 4 metres away when you heard Grogu start crying, when your own tears broke through and spilled down your cheeks. You kept walking, even when your vision began to blur and go fuzzy.

So you didn’t see the way Mando hugged Grogu closer, whispered, “I know, kid, I don’t want her to go either.”

You’d be okay. It would be fine. 

So you and the Mandalorian were parting. It was no big deal. You had helped each other; you had returned each other’s debts. You owed each other nothing. 

The sound of engines whirring filtered into your ears, and you waited until you heard the Crest lift from the ground before turning round. 

You paused, wiping your cheeks as the ship that had become a haven of sorts lifted into the sky. It hovered for a second, as if hesitating and then shot up higher, taking with it the two people that you had come to mean more to you than you realised. It felt like the Razor Crest had taken your heart with it. 

How comes you hadn’t realised before how much they meant?

Too late now.

You remained watching the sky, long after the ship had vanished into the atmosphere. 

With a shuddering breath, you wiped your cheeks. You kissed Duru’s tail, and then returned to walking toward the town. 

You’d be okay… right?

Previous chapter| Next chapter

[chamomileteainabuttercup]

Dincobb Week Day 2 - Hurt/Comfort (SFW)

Welcome to my Dincobb Week fanfic posts! I've written stories and scenes of varying lengths and tones. For clarity I should say that most of these exist as miniature AUs of their own and have no continuity with each other or with anything else I've written about these characters, so in different pieces they may be described having different physical features, personal possessions, preferences, et cetera. (There are three exceptions which I'll note as such when they come out.) Thanks to @djarining, who helped me a lot with brainstorming and discussing my ideas!

For today I have two pieces, an SFW and an NSFW - the NSFW is scheduled to post an hour after this one. The SFW is the first of the three linked stories - the other two are SFW and NSFW for a finale (but the SFWs can stand alone if you prefer not to read the NSFW one).

Hurt/Comfort - Sunburn and Grief

“Oh, partner,” Cobb says with rueful sympathy. “Look at the state of you.”

Din doesn’t know how his face looks, but from the hot, tight feeling of the skin he guesses it’s much like what he can see of his arms, shoulders, chest — burned crimson. Even his eyelids feel burned, and puffy to boot. He’s feeling pretty angry with himself. Just because he’d been enjoying the newfound warmth of the sun on his face was no reason to decide to take his shirt off and feel it all over the top of his body. It was a dumb impulse and the fact it had felt blissfully good, so much so that after he lay down to bask on the patch of sand behind Cobb’s house that he jokingly calls the garden, he fell fast asleep, did not excuse it. This is his natural punishment, he guesses, for getting into a “nothing matters any more so I’ll do whatever I feel like” state of mind, exacerbated by day-drinking. He’s not sure if the splitting headache is because of the sunburn or more of a hangover symptom. Either way, he knows he deserves it — and he doesn’t deserve how gentle Cobb is being with him, guiding him into the cool shade of the house with a hand carefully on his unburned back.

“You don’t have to look after me,” Din says. “I deserve this.”

“You’re under my roof, so yes I do,” says Cobb. “We take hospitality seriously out here. Sit down.” He guides him into a chair by his kitchen table and looks him over again. “You’re already blistering, you poor dummy. Well, first things first, you’re dehydrated.” He brings him a tall glass of water. “Slow sips, now. You gulp it down and you’re liable to throw up. I once found that out the hard way.”

Din doesn’t want to be fussed over but he still has enough of a wish to survive that he takes the glass gratefully. He takes a first sip to wet his mouth and throat, then another that he tries to hold in his mouth for as long as he can before swallowing. Cobb’s left the room; he thinks he can hear him in the bathroom, opening and shutting the cabinets. It’s so hard to think clearly; his head aches and he’s still not really sober. He can’t think what he should be doing. Is this sunstroke? What are you supposed to do for sunstroke again? He doesn’t think he’s ever been sunburned before, maybe it always feels this awful and he just wouldn’t know. Not really a Mandalorian problem. And he’s not really a Mandalorian now, so it’s become his problem. He drinks the rest of the water, probably too fast, but if he throws up he probably deserves that too.

Cobb comes back with a handful of washcloths and a big jar of something pale yellow and waxy-looking. “Let’s get you cooled down,” he says, and goes about efficiently filling a big bowl with water, throwing in some ice from the freezer, soaking the cloths and laying them spread out on Din’s chest and arms. They feel shockingly cold at first and he flinches, but almost immediately they seem to grow warm from the heat of his skin. Cobb’s humming softly as he does it, a constant soothing sound. “Head back,” he says, and lays a wet cloth over Din’s face, then leaves again and comes back with something that he sets on the table beside him. There’s a click and a whirr and a fan is blowing across his body, helping to chill the wet cloths again. Cobb keeps re-dipping and replacing them. Quiet minutes pass. The coolness is so merciful. Din opens his mouth a bit and sucks some water from the cloth over his face. His lips really hurt, but it’s still comforting somehow. He remembers how Grogu was hellbent on sucking soapy water out of the washcloth whenever he gave him a bath, and the memory stabs him under the ribs. Why does he have to remember stuff like that? Stuff that was annoying and a little gross and worried him at the time, but that he’d now give an arm or a leg to have back in his life?

“Okay,” says Cobb, peeling the wet cloth back from his face, “I want you to drink some more water. I put some rehydration salts in this glass, so it may taste a little funny, but you need the electrolytes or whatever.” Din accepts the glass and drinks, obediently; he’s starting to feel very slightly better physically. “And I bet you have the mother of a headache, so take these too.” He gives him a couple of white capsules to swallow.

“Thanks,” Din says, his voice even more subdued than normal. Cobb is watching him with his elbow on the table and his chin on his hand. He looks concerned, which makes Din feel guilty, but also irritable because Cobb doesn’t have to concern himself. Yes, Din asked if he could stay here, but he could always have said no, he can always ask him to leave if he becomes a burden. He should leave, it was so selfish to come here just because he was miserable and didn’t want to be around anyone else. He doesn’t know where else to go, though. He can probably go and find Boba. He would give him a job. He should probably have stuck with him anyway, but he felt like he’d imposed on him a lot already. Or followed Bo-Katan and tried to sort out all the Darksaber political nonsense. Not come here just because he wanted to see Cobb. Because he missed him and wished he could have spent longer with him in the first place. And all he’s done since he got here is act like a depressed asshole. And for reasons unknown Cobb is putting up with it. Yes, he’s a good, kind person, and maybe he feels like he still owes Din for his help over and above giving him the armour, but he still shouldn’t put up with it. Maybe he won’t for much longer. Whatever good opinion Din bought back then must be eroding fast. And that thought stabs at him, too.

“Okay,” says Cobb, taking the washcloths off Din’s left arm, closer to him, resting on the wooden arm of the chair. “This is good for sunburn, windburn, you name it. The all-purpose old-fashioned Tatooine skin balm.” He takes the lid off the jar, scoops out a generous amount on his fingertips, and begins smoothing it onto the burned skin on the back of Din’s left hand. It looks waxy, but it’s so soft that it melts into his skin almost immediately. “Mind you, you’re bound to peel, as crispy as you are, but this’ll soothe the pain and help your skin recover.”

Din’s cracked lips tremble, and if he wasn’t dehydrated he’s pretty sure there would be tears in his eyes. Cobb’s hands are so gentle. Being touched on the sunburn hurts, too, but it’s the gentleness that makes him want to cry. Cobb quietly, patiently, continues up Din’s arm to the shoulder, then moves his chair to do the same on the other side. He’s humming all the while, an old Tatooine folk song, Din thinks. Or for all he knows, last summer’s big pop hit, it’s not like he keeps up with these things.

“Sure do have a lot of scars,” Cobb remarks as he reaches the top of Din’s arm. “Looks like some of these wounds were cauterised.”

“I can’t exactly give myself stitches,” mumbles Din.

“Life’s been like that, huh?” Cobb says sympathetically. “Been there. Things are better now.” His voice softens further. “Things do get better, if you give it time and don’t lose heart. Turn your chair towards me, I gotta get your front.”

When he removes one of the washcloths from Din’s chest, Din takes it from him and drapes it over his face again. Being covered is such a relief, even if he has no right to it now. It’s particularly a relief because Cobb’s hand stroking his belly and chest with soothing balm is… embarrassing. His face would be red even if it wasn’t burned. He’s not used to this kind of physical intimacy with… anyone really. The fact that it’s still somewhat painful to be touched and his head still aches is keeping him from enjoying it in any unseemly way, but he wishes he’d laid down to bask on his front. He could just have a burnt back then. Much less… confronting to have your back touched. Cobb’s hand is stroking his neck now; he’s even burned under his chin, which feels ridiculous.

“Okay,” says Cobb, “I need to see your face again.” He takes the washcloth and Din lifts his head again, but keeps his eyes closed. Cobb begins by smoothing a dab of balm over each puffy upper lid. Now he thinks about it, he must look pretty hideous, not just red but swollen. It’s not the sort of thing he’s used to thinking about, or caring about, but it does bother him a little to have Cobb see him look like this. Gentle but firm fingertips spread balm over his forehead, down his nose, across his cheeks, down to his chin. He must have absorbed enough water by now from the two glasses he drank; tears are sneaking from the corners of his eyes and stinging his skin painfully. He feels Cobb’s thumb brushing balm across his chapped lips, the last place on his face, and thinks that will be the end of it, but then he feels hands cupping the sides of his head, thumbs stroking his temples. “Look at me, Din,” Cobb says quietly.

Reluctantly, he opens his eyes. He isn’t prepared for what he sees in Cobb’s eyes, the tenderness and affection but also the trouble and fear.

“Don’t hurt yourself like this again,” Cobb says. “Please.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Din says, although his voice comes out weird, choked and husky.

“Wasn’t it?”

“Trust me,” he says with a little grim smile, “if I wanted to hurt myself I know a lot more efficient ways to do it.”

“But —”

“If I wanted to hurt myself I could just go out back and eat my blaster. Quick and easy. Roll down the dune and let the wind cover me up.”

“Please don’t talk like that,” Cobb says urgently. “Don’t be so flip like you don’t matter.”

“I — I don’t matter,” Din says. “I don’t matter any more. I — I’m nothing any more,” and then the dam breaks and he’s crying. It hurts, it hurts to stretch the burned skin of his face, it hurts where the tears cut through the balm, but it hurts worst inside his chest, around his heart.

“Oh, no,” says Cobb, and pulls him forward, pulls Din’s head to his shoulder, hugs him close, and Din feels his hands stroke his back, his unburned back where thank heavens, he can feel some real comfort from the touch. He still can’t stop crying. It’s a raw, ugly sound that tears his throat, a stupid, inarticulate a-hur-hur-hur. “No, darlin’, no,” Cobb’s telling him, “you’re so wrong, you matter so much to me, you are everything to me. You don’t know how happy I was to see you. To see your face! Or how broken up to see you so miserable. I wish I knew what to do for you, what to say.”

Din still can’t stop crying, but if he’s ever able to do so, he’ll want to tell Cobb that he’s doing and saying it now.

[light-yaers]

No Saints: Chapter Six

This content is explicit and is 18+

Warnings: Graphic sexual content, violence, implied effects of PTSD, death and explicit language.

Read on Ao3 here | Fic Masterpost

Word Count - 6.1k

Chapter Six

It was approaching a week later, when someone unexpected entered the shop. You stopped polishing a blaster, looking up at him and trying to keep your cool.

“Karga,” You said plainly. You forced on a small smile. “What brings you here?”

Karga strode around your shop curiously, taking in the décor, the storage boxes, and you. He still made your skin crawl whenever you thought back to saving Mando’s skin. Stars, it meant he thought of you in that way—vulnerable, tearful, a pitiful little girl, cowering in fear next to the Mandalorian.

“Miss, good day to you,” He said in greeting. “I... bring conversation,”

Conversation. That was just another way of saying he was about to threaten you.

But about what? You didn’t know.

“Now, I’m sure you know that Nevarro is small. Operations here are left to a select few, and members of the Guild are trusted,”

“Of course. The Guild code remains law,” You agreed, unsure of where he was going with this. You tried to stand your ground, while also adopting that same character you’d played in the bar. You couldn’t immediately change your personality; it would simply hint at how it had been a plan.

“Yes, indeed,” He approached your work desk, raising his hands to his hips. “Which is why, I make it my job to make sure no one steps out of line,”

Out of line... what did he know?

“A noble position, Karga,” You said, rising yourself up to meet him face to face, as much as it made you nauseous.

“And one I take seriously,” He sent you a knowing look. You kept your stare as plain as possible, trying to convey that you had done nothing wrong, nothing to betray him or the Guild. You weren’t even a Guild member, but respecting their rules is what kept you safe on this planet; it was suicide to go against the hunters here.

Karga moved his hand to his blaster slowly. You could see it in your peripheral, sensing a rising anxiety and adrenaline coursing through your gut. If he wanted a fight, you’d win. But if you won?

You’d have to leave. You’d be a wanted woman, once again.

“There’s been word that the Mandalorian comes in here often,” Oh, stars. You stopped yourself from swallowing down your nerves, dropping your face into something resembling fear as quick as you could.

“Yes, he does,” You said honestly. There was no use in lying if he’d got a tip. “That man—so many damaged weapons, all covered in blood and dirt,” You looked at your hands, as if in thought of how disgusting it was. “I’m thankful for his business in these trying times, but stars, he scares me half to death,”

If Mando were here, he would have scoffed. What a blatant lie, from a woman who had kissed his lips five days prior. His actual lips.

“It’s taken the Guild time to trust in him again,” Karga replied, taking his hand away from his blaster. It worked—stars, it fucking worked. He believed every word your lying mouth said. “He had a lapse of judgement a while back, but without him, quarries simply wouldn’t get collected as quickly or efficiently,”

You nodded severely, coating your gaze with a subtle sadness and trying desperately not to break. You hated acting like this—weak, spineless, like you didn’t know the ways of the Guild or hunters or killers, but sometimes it was the only thing that kept you safe.

“So, I was wondering, since times are tough,” Karga continued, moving his hand to his pocket slyly. “If you and I could strike a deal?”

He laid out five hundred credits on the work desk, letting you look at them, before looking back up to him. Fuck. Not another deal.

“Information on the Mandalorian, in exchange for Guild gratitude, and some credits to make these times easier to manage,” This was a fucking sham. You knew Guild contacts weren’t allowed to keep tabs on their members like this; it was heavily frowned upon and betrayed the initial trust.

But Karga had always been a snake. He was worse than the hunters, in some aspect. He expected honesty, respect, decorum; yet he often didn’t return the favour. He’d underpay his hunters, shoot them on site for being late without hearing their story, and evidently, spy on them behind their backs.

Oh, you would certainly be telling Mando about this.

“Karga, that’s so kind of you,” You began, shooting him a graceful smile and trying not to imagine what your fist round his jaw would look like. “But I’m afraid I have nothing to give. The Mandalorian doesn’t say two words to me when he comes in. He hands me a weapon, pays me, and waits in silence while I repair it,” Lies. All lies. He did more than sit there, and he certainly didn’t stay silent.

Stars, not now.

“Well—why don’t you try—,”

“Talking to him?” You interrupted. “Tried it, he never replies. It’s like I’m just talking to myself, most of the time. Stars, he’s a scary man,”

Karga’s face dropped into a frown.

“I’m grateful for the proposition, Karga,” You said, before silently pushing his credits back towards him on the desk. “But I think it would simply be a waste of your credits,”

Karga regraded you slyly, squinting slightly at the innocent expression you were plastering all over your face. “Well,” He sighed, taking back his credits. “That you for the honesty, Miss,” He nodded at you and you nodded back. “Good day to you,”

You held your breath as he walked out of the shop, not moving until you were sure he was around the corner of the street outside. And then you exhaled heavily, clutching your heart as the waves of anxiety and adrenaline finally caused you grief. That snake; that fucking snake.

You had no way of contacting Mando before he arrived back, so you’d simply have to hope that your lies would hold up during his next visit. If Karga was wary about this enough to ask you to strike a deal with him, then this wouldn’t go away quickly—

He was after something; something to incriminate Mando in the Guild.

You kept your communicator charged and strapped to your wrist at all times, just waiting for his modulated drawl to come through over the next few days. The man was on your mind at all times; while you worked, when you ate, shot, showered and before you went to sleep. His kiss had seeped into your very being, often reappearing in your mind randomly and making you jump. Your fingers brushed your lips whenever you thought of him. Soft, prickling pecks littered your entire body in anticipation of when he’d kiss you all over—

Your skin, your chest, your collarbones and between your thighs. Stars, you’d give up every part of yourself for him—not that you’d ever admit that to the bastard; it would only serve to fuel his ego and his over-the-top confidence when he finally broke you down, made you blush, made you whimper.

A week after waking in his ship, you turned your light out and crawled into bed. He was due back tomorrow and as much as you craved his touch and his voice, you were afraid of what Karga was plotting. You’d have to tell him immediately, to at least try and halt something from happening to him without his prior knowledge.

Eventually, you fell into a deep sleep, dreaming of sweet things. Blurs of greys and browns met you behind your eyelids, mimicking the subtle reflections of the moonlight off of Mando’s Beskar helmet. In your dream, he stood over you in your room, visor peering down at your sleeping body as he quietly began taking off portions of his armour and laying them on the floor in a neat pile.

He started with his shoulder pads, moving to his chest plate and pulling it from his front and back. His leg plates came off the easiest, with subtle tugs one by one until he wore only his under clothes and helmet. It was dark, but you smiled up at where you sensed his body to be, mumbling greetings at him before he moved round to other side of the bed.

Only when he slipped off his shoes and lifted the covers, did you realise you weren’t fucking dreaming—

Stars, you were awake, barely, and Mando was slipping into bed next to you. He’d picked the lock on the door, slotted off his Beskar and crawled in right next to you, all under the cover of Nevarro darkness and with no hesitation at all.

He rested his head on the pillow next to your own, softly wrapping his arms around you as you fought against the deep sleep weighing you down. You were incoherent, utterly confused but also blisteringly hot at what was going on. Inside, a voice screamed at you to wake up, to focus on what was happening, to tell him about Karga; but the other was simply letting out pleased moans and mumbles, hooking yourself into his embrace and feeling the immediate comfort of his warm body next to yours.

You would kick yourself for this in the morning, but as you fell asleep in each other’s arms, you almost didn’t care.

Almost.

Mando stirred awake first, but he didn’t move from your side. You felt his movements as he stretched his muscles and his joints under the duvet next to you, only to shove himself back into your embrace while he moaned sleepily. You fluttered your eyes open, feeling his beating heart on your back as he hugged you from behind.

“You picked my lock again,” You croaked out, sleep still present within your voice.

A small, modulated chuckle trickled over you. “Didn’t want to wake you,” He spoke, his voice just as raw and utterly delicious as it had been waking up to him last week.

You fluttered your fingers over his own, wrapped around your torso and dangling comfortably in front of your face. His hands twitched when you first touched them, but as he got used to the sensation, he squeezed your fingers back, swiping his thumb over your knuckles rhythmically.

“I have some news,” You let out gravely, swallowing down a sudden bout of nerves. Karga—you had to tell him about Karga. You shuffled in bed, rolling over to face him head on. That didn’t stop him from repositioning himself, allowing you to lay upon his forearm. “Karga came in here two days ago, asking about you,”

You half expected Mando to tense, to sit up immediately, to go straight into hunter mode, but he didn’t. He stayed put, almost mesmerised by your face looking directly at his own. Slowly, gently, he raised a hand to your cheek, rubbing his thumb over the morning blush that they possessed. He swiped his fingers over your jaw, slotting some stray hairs behind your ear and utterly ignoring the fact that you definitely had bed hair.

Exhaling, you closed your eyes. His fingers never lost their touch, never lost their softness. You happily melted whenever he touched you, igniting your senses while simultaneously making you feel as safe as he possibly could. You wondered if your touches, your stares, your movements, made him feel the same way?

You swallowed, forcing yourself to drift back to reality, opening up your eyes. “This is serious, Mando,” You persisted. “He offered me a deal. I had to make up an excuse to deny him. Someone’s spotted you coming here and they’re suspicious,” Mando continued traversing his fingers over your face.

“Did they see you leaving the Razor Crest?” He asked gently.

“If they did, Karga didn’t mention it,”

Mando was silent for a beat, indulging in you. Then he nodded once, sternly, seeming content with that answer.

“Good. Karga believed you?”

“He took back his credits and walked out. There were no threats, so that’s a win in my book,”

“Good,”

Good. You ignored the way your heart swelled at his words. He was worried about you in this situation, not about himself. You expected Mando had been through his fair share of hiccups with the Guild, especially after he told you about the shit with the kid. His ability to brush these things off frustrated you though; maybe he was careless, or maybe he was just used to it. Either way, you still had anxiety in your gut about the encounter.

“Do you want some caf?” You asked in a whisper, still relishing in the way his fingers were floating over your skin.

“Wait,” He said in reply, which prompted you to go completely still. His fingers wound up your forehead, touching you so lightly that you could barely feel them skimming your skin. You let out a pent-up breath, relaxing ever so slightly into his grasp and sinking further into his arm. You closed your eyes once more, trying to expel the stress you felt about Karga, the constant fears of messing up these meetings with Mando, and the incessant urge to kiss every portion of his bare skin until he whimpered.

This intimacy; you craved it. Him; you missed him.

As much as it pained you, you couldn’t stop the internal clock within you from counting down every second you were with him, knowing that eventually it would run out and he’d have to leave again. With every week that passed, you missed him more, and with every time he arrived at your doorstep, you wanted him to stay for longer and longer each time.

Stars. You’d become a wetwipe over a man whose face you’d never seen.

“You made yourself very comfortable here last night,” You said, keeping your eyes closed but shooting him an amused smile. You loved that he felt at home here, loved that after so many months he finally felt open to be this soft, this gentle. There was always another side to people, and with Mando it was something you’d never expected—

He was a hunter, a killer, so ingrained in his work that it was all he did between these brief visits of comfort and affection. Maybe you were helping; helping him to return to himself after tracking and capturing quarries. It made you feel worth something, for once in your life, without that worth being down to the amount of blood you spilled in your prior life.

“It’s easy to, when you fit perfectly in my grasp,” He uttered coarsely. You perked an eyebrow at him, which he tentatively fluttered his fingers over.

“Are you saying I’m small?” You joked.

“I’m saying, you’re more cooperative when you’re half asleep,” He joked back, letting out a breathy chuckle. Stars, what you’d do to feel his breath when he did that. The subtlety of his breath hitting your skin was another craving that you’d never known you’d wanted, until the prospect of falling for a man in a helmet arose.

You shot your eyes open, slowly bringing a hand up to his neck. You wrapped your fingers around his throat gently, slowly, relishing in the touch of his warm skin. His neck was something you’d agonised over. It was so long, so tempting to bite into that you’d had to stop yourself from doing so, when you’d plastered kisses all over his chest before. His Adam’s apple protruded attractively, bobbing up and down when he spoke to you ruggedly.

You applied a slight pressure against this blood vessels, avoiding pressing into his throat.

“Are you saying I’m uncooperative?” You spoke sensually, allowing your words to trickle all over him, until you’d got what you’d wanted; the feeling of his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath your hand—as he gulped.

Bingo.

At light speed, Mando grabbed your wrist, moving his body in the same motion to peer over you. He straddled you elegantly, pushing your wrist down into the pillow above your head. Stars, he looked good like this, and the feeling was even better. A warmth spiralled from your gut, spreading through your body as arousal began to take over all of your senses.

You squirmed slightly, prompting Mando to grab your other wrist and place it up top with your other hand, using only one of his to hold you in place. His hands were huge compared to yours, yet he was so skilful with the way he moved them. They weren’t clunky; they were stealthy, they were soft, but you also didn’t doubt his ability to snap you in two at any given moment, if he wanted to.

“Smart mouth, when will you learn to keep it shut?” He growled slowly, using his knees to pry open your legs, while he dug his free hand into your upper thigh. You obeyed, wrapping your legs around his hips and trying not to completely unfold at the feeling of your bare legs upon his clothes. Night clothes weren’t the sexist of attire to wear in a situation like this, but Mando didn’t fucking care—he had you right where he wanted you.

“I was raised never to be belittled by a man,” You replied, beginning to fight back against his grasp on your hands. Mando grunted, pressing on your wrists with increased ferocity.

“I was raised never to break a promise,” Mando let out, coming in closer, closer, closer, until his hips were pressed agonisingly between your legs. It was different this time, without the confines of cargo trousers keeping him separate from you, only a pair of thin shorts lay between you and his blissfully throbbing crotch. “The wound is healed,”

Oh, fuck. Stars, he—he didn’t mean—

Before you could widen your eyes, he was already jumping off the bed. You scrambled up to sitting, watching the intense way he strode to the blinds on your window and blacked them out completely. He scanned your floor quickly, bending down and picking up the closest item of clothing he could find, before standing over you, coiling the fabric in his hands anxiously.

You knew what he wanted; he wanted assurance that you wouldn’t see his face, not while his helmet was off and on your floor. Stars, off and on your floor. Your expression softened as you shuffled towards him, draping your legs off the bed and leaning back to look up at him.

Mando wasted no time tying the shirt over your eyes. He was gentle when he tightened it, making sure not to make it uncomfortable for you. He was sweet like that, but what he did next, was the furthest thing from sweet.

Before you could react, an arm had hooked around your back, the other under your legs, as Mando all but threw you back upon the bed. Your head hit the pillow, sprawling you out in front of him while you struggled against the pitch blackness of your vision. You let out a whimper as you sensed him over you, as his hands started trailing over every part of your body; your legs, your arms, teasing his fingers up and under your night shirt and fiddling temptingly at the waistband of your shorts.

Stars, you ceased to breath.

When he stopped, it was only to take off his helmet. You heard the way it ruffled his hair beneath as he tugged it off with a grunt. That voice; you couldn’t wait to hear his voice. Without the modulator, without the immediate lowering of his tone and monotonous ways Mando spoke while he wore it.

You were practically shaking in anticipation, not being able to see where he was, or know when he’d appear between your legs. You squirmed, letting out an incredibly nervous whimper, and Mando folded—he chuckled to himself, floating his delicious voice over the room, before you felt fingers curl around your waist snuggly.

He crawled his fingers up your shirt slowly, making sure to touch as much of you as he could. Electricity wound its way up your arms, your legs, your torso, heightening your remaining senses and making everything utterly blissful—you were in heaven, stars, you knew that he was going to be good. There was no doubting it, not after the display of his skills previously.

Mando curled the fabric of your shirt up and over your tender breasts, taking his time as he slalomed his fingers between them, circling back round to skim your nipples, causing the breath to hitch in the back of your throat—

“Smart mouth,” Mando growled. His face, his bare face, was just above you, relishing in the look of you utterly helpless, melting at his touches upon new areas of your body. You bit down on your bottom lip, loving the nickname he’d adopted for you—but fuck—that’s when he let out the most painful of moans. “Fuck—,” He forced out, and in an instant, his lips were upon yours—

You wasted no time wrapping your arms around his shoulders, overwhelmed by the pure feeling of him being this close once more. You could barely talk after he’d kissed you last, and you didn’t doubt the same thing would fucking happen this time, but stars, you didn’t care. If it gave Mando the confidence to go further, to touch you all over, to know that he made you weak, then that’s all you cared about.

Fuck your dignity. Fuck your blush. If Mando wanted it, you’d just about give him anything.

His tongue fell into your mouth, deliciously inhaling you and enjoying every second of being this close. He nipped at your lower lip, groaning into your mouth with strained pleasure, while his hands slowly—delicately, agonisingly—made their way further and further down your body, finding your waistband once more.

Without warning, Mando separated from you, breathing out heavily as you still felt him upon your lips—but his breath, you felt it. You felt him breathing, felt his puffs of air as he tried desperately to quench his thirst for you. Stars—it was fucking hot. You squirmed in pleasure as Mando’s hand trickled beneath your waistband, skimming the skin just before your warmth and making you blush brighter than ever before.

“You want me to stop?” He growled. He was hungry. And you’d be lying if you didn’t love it when he spoke to you like this. You shook your head feverishly, as Mando slowly began to pull down your shorts.

He started slow, making you whimper as the anticipation became too much, before ripping them off of you. You raised your legs to the sky as he pulled the fabric from each foot and threw them behind him, the same way he’d done with those tight trousers. You gasped when he stopped momentarily though, as his fingers brushed over the scarred skin on your right ankle—

You began to get up, to reach out and find his hand to stop him from looking at the mark, but all you got in return was Mando spreading your legs as wide as they could go. You collapsed back onto the bed, trying to stop your upper thighs from trembling, but it was far too late.

“You’re already drenched,” Mando breathed out, looking at your pussy head on; relishing in the way it glistened just for him. You whimpered, feeling the vulnerabilities of him staring at your slit and trying to close your legs as a reflex, but stars—Mando didn’t like that.

He didn’t like that one bit.

His fingers dug into your thighs as he opened your legs sternly, grunting in effort at the small fight you were putting up. “Don’t you dare,” He growled sternly, and stars, you all but froze in place. “Don’t hide,” He continued, softening his voice slightly as you continued to fucking die as the mere image of him descending upon your aching pussy. “Not from me, ever,”

Ever—when he said it, you flinched all over. Because you could feel his breath; you could feel it on your pussy. Right over your throbbing clit, right over your blistering warmth. Mando was biding his time, making you cry, making you whimper and whine, and he was loving it. The bastard, the fucking bastard.

“Mando—,” You stuttered out, but all too soon his mouth latched onto your pussy. You let out the longest groan you’d ever released as all of your muscles tensed at once. Your entire body was on fire, lit up from the subtle movements of Mando’s tongue slowly licking up and down over your sensitive slit.

His hands gripped your thighs hungrily, pulling you closer to his mouth with every breath and shudder that ran through your body. “Fuck—fuck—,” Was the only thing you could actually manage to get out, as his tongue began drawing circles around your clit, missing it intentionally as he riled you up intensely first.

There it was, that warmth—the warmth that signified the fucking want to burst was rising up faster than ever before while Mando ate you out sublimely, mixing up his movements to be both soft and incredibly fast. His tongue was perfection, his mouth was parted just for you, as his stubble caught on your lips and added to the pleasure tenfold.

You let out a moan when he came up for air, breathing shallowly while his hands settled upon your belly, pulling you closer than ever before. “You tell me when you’re close, and I won’t ever stop,” His voice was deep, slick, his lips covered in you and only you.

Before you could reply, he buried his face between your thighs. You fucking yelled, grabbing onto the closest thing you could for stability, which happened to be his hair. His hair, it was soft, matted, but just long enough for you to pull between your flinching fingers. Mando’s ferocity only increased as you scratched your nails over his scalp, making him moan into your opening and hazard a small nip upon your clit between his teeth—

You yelped, jumping up involuntarily at his reply to your hand placement. Mando pushed you back down by your belly, diving deep between your slit to continue those agonising circles, lapping up every last drop of you that he could. His speed was increasing slowly, agonisingly, as your gut continued to coil at the feel of his mouth upon your most sensitive area—an area that you’d dreamed he’d one day explore. Stars, he was fucking relentless, showing no mercy while you were on the brink of tears.

Oh, stars—you were going to cum.

You shuddered, going utterly silent while Mando continued lapping you up. You moved your hands to his face, placing them on either side of his cheeks and digging your fingers into his neck slightly. “M-Mando—,” You stuttered out, feeling the way your gut was contracting and knowing that it wouldn’t be long.

“Cum,” Was all he said in reply. “I can feel you. Let go,” He spoke into your slit, not removing himself from your pussy while you whimpered in pleasure, heartrate accelerating, breath hitching in the back of your throat constantly.

Stars, it was going to happen, you were so close—but that’s when Mando removed himself from your clit, pushing himself up quickly until you knew he was peering down at you, face to face. He got in close to your face, bringing a hand to gently curl around your neck. You whined intensely, smacking your hands on his chest in protest.

“Please—why the fuck did you—,” Mando cut you off by pressing his blistering lips against your own. That shut you up perfectly, as you tasted yourself upon his soft lips.

“Always so rude,” He moaned into your mouth. You bit his bottom lip suddenly, making him jump away from your face.

“Says the man who just edged me to oblivion,” You growled at him, letting out a snarl as you squirmed beneath him. Mando only chuckled, and stars, it just fucking turned on you more. You were still riding the coattails of almost coming into his mouth, but you had no idea what he was playing at by leaving your aching pussy to get lonely.

“I’m not finished yet,” He said slowly, gritting his teeth in pain. “So impatient—,” He stopped talking when you grabbed him by the neck and shoved his mouth onto your own once more. He pulled back after kissing you feverishly, tightening his grip on your neck slightly as you moaned in a new type of pleasure. “I wanted to see that blush, so I can notice the difference after you cum in my mouth,”

As fast as he’d stopped, Mando shoved his face into your slit once more, and stars—you had to stop yourself from screaming. His hand stayed plastered around your throat, relishing in the way he could feel every time the breath caught in the back of your throat at his movements. If he’d been somewhat gentle before, he’d now thrown all of that out of the fucking window, adopting a delicious, up-pace rhythm as you squirmed beneath him.

The feeling in your gut came back tenfold as you fought against the rising yells in your throat. Your entire body was buzzing with pleasure, as the tension in your muscles were begging for relief, for release, for Mando to tip you over the edge.

You fumbled as you wrapped your fingers around his arm, still holding your neck firmly and pressing down heavenly upon your blood vessels. With every subtle press, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, causing a new sensation to rise within you and only increase your overall pleasure. Stars, you knew he was going to be good—

But this good? This man must have learned this from somewhere, and stars, you wanted to fucking know what else he could do; how else he could make you unwind effortlessly.

You swallowed painfully, feeling a clear acceleration beneath your chest. You felt your hairs stand on end, as sweat started to pool on your chest and other parts of your bare skin. “I’m—,” You began, but had to stop and let out a back-arching moan, as Mando only sped up the motions of his tongue upon your quivering clit. “Gonna— cum,” You forced out sternly.

Mando kept to his promise—when you said the word, he didn’t fucking stop. He only kept going, increasing his speed, tightening his grip on your belly and your neck and making you see stars behind your eyelids. You squirmed, breathing shallowly, as if in panic, when in reality you were fucking seconds away from coming into the Mandalorian’s open mouth.

You let out a few static fucks, arching your back further and further, while Mando stayed latched onto you like a fucking leech, sucking you dry, making you moan and groan and sweat and ache, and then—in a wave of pleasure, you came.

You came hard, releasing a screaming groan hybrid and collapsing your legs to fall on Mando’s head. He didn’t mind though; he kept his lips glued to your pussy, occasionally licking along your slit to lap everything up neatly. He missed your clit though, not wanting you to feel overstimulated after orgasming the hardest you ever had in your life.

You tensed every few seconds, feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm while Mando slowly, delicately, unlatched himself from you. He let out a small chuckle in approval, no doubt admiring his work, before he crawled back up to your face. He placed pecks on your neon red cheeks, bringing his mouth down to press upon your own softly, gently, directly juxtaposing to the way he’d eaten you out just moments before.

Mando was many things; terrifying, mysterious, silent. But he also had a different side; funny, soft, warming and incredibly gentle. Whichever side you got, you always felt blessed. Especially here, t-shirt tied around your eyes to stop you from seeing his face, naked from your breasts down and limbs utterly exhausted and unable to move—

You were in bliss.

Because he was next to you.

And because he’d just made you cum really fucking hard.

“Look at this,” He whispered, placing another peck upon your exhausted lips. “She’s finally lost for words,”

Stars, you would have punched him in the gut if you had the strength, but all of it was being sucked up from the colossal release you were still feeling. You simply kept silent, eyes closed behind the makeshift blindfold, relishing this feeling. Mando reached down to grab his helmet, and all too soon it was slotted back over his head. You frowned when he gently took your mask off, revealing his chrome visor that you knew so well.

You smiled at him smally as he straddled your waist softly, reaching up to place a hand against the cold Beskar of his helmet. There was something about looking at him when you did this, which of course you couldn’t do when he had his mask off. As much as you loved feeling the lines of his face, his facial hair, his lips—you loved looking at him like this.

Exposed, vulnerable, trying to show him everything that you wanted to scream at his face, but couldn’t because of the way you were inherently afraid of weakness. Was liking someone a weakness? Was wanting to be around them, make them feel good, miss them when they were gone, weak?

Or was it a strength?

Mando curled his fingers around your wrist gently, just holding them there while you kept an unwavering stare on his visor. “I can make some caf,” He said quietly, his voice utterly different to the way he’d spoken when he was face deep in your cunt.

You couldn’t help it—you let out a scoff, draping an arm over your blushing face to cover yourself up from even more humiliation. “You just ate my pussy, made me cum, and now you’re going to make me caf?” You let out, stuttering out some involuntary chuckles after speaking.

Stars, you knew he was grinning beneath that fucking helmet, just from the way he was silently looking at you. “Yeah,” He replied simply, before getting up and heading to the small kitchenette of the shop.

Mando stayed for coffee, though he didn’t have any, obviously. He did lie next to you as you drank your own, watching the way you went over your schedule and agenda for the working day, noting things down with a tiny, over-sharpened pencil in a notepad and sipping at your caf throughout.

He didn’t say much, just light conversation about the kid, about his upcoming meeting with Karga later that morning, about the way you needed to brush your hair, before he was combing his fingers through your scalp without being asked to. Mando, you realised, had a love language; something to show his affection, his desires, to show his care. It wasn’t speaking, he was a man of little to no words. It was touching—

However small. A hand on your back, fingers combing through your hair, thumb swiping over your lips. That was him saying “I’m here. I’m here right now, with you.”

When it was time for him to leave, you tried not to pout. He slotted his Beskar back on, mumbling to himself about checking on the kid before heading to the bar, and then he was slinging his satchel over his shoulder and following you to the door. You hugged your arms coldly, patting bare feet upon the shop floor before you unlocked the front door and creaked it open.

Mando lingered in the doorway. “Meet me at the Razor Crest tonight,” He stated. You widened your eyes in surprise.

“Why?” You questioned. His visor didn’t meet your eyes.

“I need to ask you something,” He said finally. You nodded slowly, despite him not looking towards you. That’s when he left. No “See you next week”, no flirtatious banter that both of you had become accustomed to over the past few months. No nothing.

You felt slightly anxious when you shut the door, trying not to overthink his incredibly blunt nature, after such a comfortable night and intense morning together. Mando was many things; a hunter, a killer, and you knew he was dangerous. But that didn’t stop you from feeling these things. It didn’t stop you from second guessing every silent stare, every absent touch, every blunt reply.

Stars—men.

Nevertheless, you had work to do. You readied yourself for the day, all too aware of the ticking clock, counting down to when you’d next see your Mandalorian—

To when you’d get to kiss those lips once more.

[randomingoftherandomness]

What I am hoping for from Winner is King ( 烽火流金)

Okay, so at this point, let’s just be reals here, Word of Honor has kinda set the bar for me in terms of standards to expect from the slew of danmei adaptations this year. Granted, I know that there are some who think the way it was adapted was not up to their standards and that it could have been done better, please don’t bring it on this post because this is not the post for it.

In this post, I’m going to talk about  Winner is King (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑

Now, Sha Po Lang, the original novel, is for me one of the best things that I have read in a very long while. As such, I can be rather precious about what I am hoping to see come alive on the show and what I am hoping will be present in the portrayals I see. I know there are some concerns regarding the script and behind the scenes stuff - and they are very valid concerns that I feel too! - and with the recent announcement that instead of 45 episodes, we are only getting 40, I can foresee that there could be some rushed handlings of the very plotty nature of the source material and perhaps a sense that style can trump substance.

But as the actual show isn’t beaming right into our eyeballs just yet, here are some things I am looking forward to seeing in Winner is King and some things that I am crossing my fingers will make the final cut! 

Warning for some novel spoilers ahead. I’ll keep it under the read more.

Tagging @zhongwans because I said I would haha...

Things I am looking forward to:

The Changgu dynamic. I think it goes without saying that if the chemistry between your leads is a dud, the show doesn’t need to even pass Go, it can just shuffle itself off the board because it will be dead in the water. The Changgu dynamic has to be nailed; I need to see that self-doubt, that caring for the other but coming at it from the wrong way, that awkwardness that comes with trying to hold back the burden of your love and care because you don’t want to overwhelm the other... 

I need Gu Yun to be shamelessly sweet with his words and his coaxing of his Yan Wang from a sulk. I need Changgu saying “I hate you to death, Gu Yun” (pining)

Hu Ge Er. Let me just be clear here, I will cheer when she dies, but I hope that how they handle her characterisation will do her justice. There is no excusing the level of horrible that she is, but I hope that she isn’t written as a single dimension abusive piece of shit. Nuance, is what I am looking for. I need her to be the villain and the reason for Chang Geng.

I. NEED. THE. WOLF. ATTACK. SCENE. OUTSIDE. OF. YANHUI. TOWN. aka The First Time They Meet

There is legit no excuse for them to fuck this up, but the Steampunk elements. I would not know what else to say if they fuck this one thing up that is so integral and basic to the love of this IP. They cannot fuck this up. I am very sure I will join people in rioting if they do.

I need to see my Red Kites, my Heavy and Light Armours, my Dragons... I need to see the steam powered lamps, the iron puppets... I need them to get the Wind Slashers right. I need them to get this world-building right ok? I need to be dropped into this show and just swoon over just how accurate to imagination everything looks. Tencent does have the blessed ability to make very good looking productions, so on this note, I am assured. 

I need them to get the human element right; I need to understand why Gu Yun is the way he is, I need to know why the members of the Lin Yuan Pavillion will back Chang Geng and why they won’t. I need to know why Liao Chi would betray the Emperor. I need them to make me feel; I want them to make my heart hurt when Chang Geng’s heart is hurting, I want them to make me cry when Gu Yun is at his lowest and feels like he can’t go on. I want them to make me laugh, I want to feel for Shen Yi and Miss Chen’s awkward courting. 

On that note, I hope they get the Shen Yi and Gu Yun dynamic right too! These two are bros ok? Life and death, ride or die, best bros forever and I need, need them to nail just how integral these are to each other and how much they chose each other as family. I need the bickering, I need the protectiveness, I need the banter. 

I also need Chang Geng conspiring to marry Shen Yi off quickly so that he can have Gu Yun all to himself lol but lbr here if we can get an ending for this show from Tencent that even breathes the same atmosphere of air as satisfactory I will praise the heavens

The Bone of Impurity. I don’t know to what extent they will cover this or if they would do it the way the book does it, but this being an element that is integral to Chang Geng, I would be surprised if they dropped it entirely. So yeah, I am looking forward to seeing Chang Geng fretting and worrying and getting Bone of Impurity attacks.

Just the way that Gu Yun allows himself to be cared for my Chang Geng and how Chang Geng lets Gu Yun care for him

I want one acupuncture hedgehog scene please and thank you

I do want to see how they handle Chang Geng and his elder half-brother; how that dynamic unfolds will be something to pay some attention to, I think

Oh! That moment when Chang Geng kneels down in front of his brother and tells him to please bury any talk of his marriage and revealing to his brother the scars that he carries from his time living under Hu Ge Er’s roof (this is one brand of Whump that I promise you will hurt you very badly and it will be very good)

The argument at Jiangnan is something I really think will also make the final cut. It wouldn’t make sense to drop it seeing as this is a pivotal shift in their relationship where Chang Geng is finally holding his ground and not bending over backwards and believing everything his Yi Fu says. And this was the catalyst for their four year separation so yeah. I hope they do this justice.

I am not a betting person, but I high key bet that the scene between Gu Yun and the previous Emperor where he tells the man, “If you go, then I won’t have anyone left” and this being the moment that softens the dying fucker’s heart enough to give him a bracelet of beads that will be a major plot point towards the end

THE. BATTLE. SCENES.

Things I am hoping will happen:

At this point, speculation is that the point that tripped Winner Is King up for a recheck was the politics. This year is the 100th anniversary of the founding of the Communist Party in China and rumour has it that shit be sieving thick and so a lot of shows are erring on the side of caution. 

Politics is the highest likelihood of a recheck but I am hoping that it won’t be dumbed down or watered down too much because the politics and the way things played out in the book was absolutely divine and I really want to see that court intrigue and scheming and interplay unfold.

I’ve mentioned in my most recent podcast episode that I am banking on this show to scratch my itch for a Nirvana in Fire level of plottiness and infinite craftiness of the characters and I am crossing all fingers and toes for that to happen because All! The! Characters! Hold! Their! Own! And I need to see that play out please I am not asking for much...

The final sea battle with the Pope. I wouldn’t even know where they would even begin to shoot that scene but this is something I would love to see happen.

The Bone of Impurity attack after Gu Yun sneakily left the capital. That was the scene that caught me and hooked, lined and sinkered me for Chang Geng as a character. Listening to this scene be brought to life in the audio drama has really hammered it home that if they make this bit into the show, I will watch and weep if it is done right. 

Cao Niangzi being Cao Niangzi. I am thinking it might not happen the way I want, but I just need them to get them right.

Ge Chen peeing on the enemy’s face. Please. I laughed so hard. I need this. It will be a balm to my soul.

Please, I need Gu Yun’s soul crushing flute playing like I need Gong Jun to always be absolutely horrible at singing because baby this is your niche and this is your charm own it work it

I also need Gu Yun stealing a bamboo flute from a 10 year old because he got jealous please and thank you

Any flashback of Chang Geng and Hu Ge Er before Yanhui Town

I want to see that moment that Gu Yun hears first hand from someone who had knowledge of what Hu Ge Er would do to a baby Chang Geng and the horrible abuse she inflicted on him, because up to that point, he only knew that something went on, but never to the extent that revelation wrought unto him

Any of the Bone of Impurity moments; any mention of it, any visual representation of it... Gosh, just the idea of having the Bone of Impurity made visual is just... Ugh. Yes. Please. The suffering.

[bonus] Things I wish will happen but will probably not:

The hot spring scene or a version of it

An implication that baby cannibalism was involved in the making of a Bone of Impurity

The scene where they get to the goddess doll (the description of it in the book was so bone chilling and if they do this I will have nightmares, I’m just warning you)

I really, really want a scene where, after being crowned Emperor, Chang Geng goes to the frontlines to reclaim the South and upon hearing that he was there, Gu Yun immediately panicked like he was about to be caught with his pants down doing something illegal when all he did was ordered his subordinates to keep news of his injuries from being reported back to the capital

Any flashback of Chang Geng and Hu Ge Er before Yanhui Town; especially when they were with the Barbarians

I want to see some version of Hu Ge Er realising what she has done to her own child and to Chang Geng

Okay this got super long but what are you guys looking forward to seeing when Winner is King hits our screens? I’m looking forward to creating content for this fandom when it hits ೕ(˃̵ᴗ˂̵ ๑) In the meantime, sound off on what you’re expecting and what you’re maybe wary about!

[ijustwant2write]

Stressed-Merlin x Reader

(GIF credit to @merlin-sindrome​)

Requested by @ballorawan740​: ‘Hi can you make an imagine/headcanon for Merlin x Reader where the reader is stressed’

Characters: Merlin x Reader. Gaius x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Stress, mention of sores/blisters, fluff

                                   *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

My name was yelled out in the servants corridor, demanding I run to the person calling. It was the matron, and even though I knew I hadn't done anything wrong, my heart still raced, sweat slowly forming on my forehead after running around all day to complete my chores. I finally found the matron, who was stood with her arms folded across her chest, looking angry as she usually did (no one had ever seen her smile). 

"You called matron?" I said as I struggled to get my breath back. 

She pursed her lips."What chores have you completed today? The polishing?" 

"Yes."

"Sweeping?" 

"Yes."

"Laundry?"

"Yes."

"No you haven't." 

I tried not to frown at her."I have matron." 

"No you haven't, because the knights have just returned, and their clothes are filthy. They've thrown their mud covered robes all over the fresh clothes as a mistake. You'll have to do it all again." 

"Yes matron."

I kept an expressionless face as I agreed and even when I turned away from her. Heading back the way I came, I made no eye contact with anyone that passed by, scared they would ask what was wrong and I would break. When I arrived in the laundry room, I moaned at the piles of dirty clothes on top of my clean, fresh ones. I had to do all of this by myself. Glancing down at my hands, I winced when I saw how red and sore they were, some blisters already forming. 

Sat outside, managing to find some shade to wash the clothes, I mumbled complaints under my breath. Why didn't those knights have the common sense to see that there were clearly clean clothes in here? Some people had such disregard for those of us who worked day in and out, cleaning up after their messes. I understood they went off scouting and fighting to keep us safe, but we also kept them looking immaculate, fed them decent meals and made sure their armour and weapons were in top shape.

One shirt was not wanting to get clean, no matter how much I soaked or scrubbed it. Multiple times I had scraped my hands, yelping out at the pain. I wanted to throw it away, tear it to pieces, but if one thing was dirty, matron would have my head. Letting out a frustrated groan, I threw the wet shirt back into the tub of water, feeling stupid when some water splashed back onto me.

"What did that shirt ever do to you?" Merlin suddenly appeared behind me.

"I can't get any of the stains out. I've been here for two hours and nothing has worked. I'm hot, tired, aching and sweating." I whined, collapsing my head into my hands.

"Hey," he was closer now, taking my hands in his,"it'll be alright-"

"I'm tired of this Merlin! We all work so hard and never even get a thank you. And when people do arrogant things like this, I can't help but feel angry." 

“I can speak to them for you. They’re my friends, I’m sure they would listen.”

“No, please don’t! If matron finds out, she’ll make me scrub the floors with a tiny handkerchief.”

He took my hands in his, thumbs gently brushing over the red marks.“You need to stop.”

“If I stop-”

“Matron isn’t going to do anything to you. I promise.”

“That woman is worse than any evil being you’ve fought.”

He chuckled.“You’re not wrong there. Come on.”

He pulled me to my feet.“Merlin, I can’t leave my chores.”

“Someone else has to do it.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“You’re far too ill to be working.” he smirked.

I was about to protest when he picked up his pace, dragging me along. I giggled, thankful that we hadn’t passed by anyone. He wasn’t holding my hand, making it look odd that he was dragging me by my wrist, but I knew it was because it hurt to hold hands. Merlin had taken me to his chambers, sitting me down on the patient bed. He started gathering bandages and ointments before perching beside me.

“You don’t think you’re going to get into trouble for this do you?” I asked as he started cleaning my hands.

He paused his actions, glancing into my eyes for a second and smiling before going back to my hands.“Stop worrying.”

“But...how am I meant to go back-”

“You’re not going to go back to chores today. You’re ill.”

“Being stressed doesn’t count.”

“It does if you saw yourself as I saw you.”

“You’re being biased.”

“I promise you that even if I wasn’t in love with you, I would be helping you.”

I blushed.“So, Doctor Merlin, do you think I’ll live?”

Merlin collected the supplies he used, placing them on a nearby table.“Just to make sure, I recommend you stay here for the rest of the day.” he pushed me back to lay down, covering me with a blanket.

“Alright, this is a bit excessive isn’t it?” I laughed.

“Nope. I’m the professional here.” he pulled up a chair and placed it beside me, reaching for my now bandaged hand again.

“Thank you Merlin. You’re too sweet.”

“I can’t see you like that. If I could give you a better life...when I can give you a better life than this, I’ll be taking you to it straight away.”

“Oh, Merlin, you can’t be saying things like that.”

“You’re right, about it not being fair. I see you working harder than anybody else here, you take on more work so the older servants rest, and you never talk back when being snapped at over nothing.”

“You’ve already made my life a lot happier, you know that don’t you? Even when we became friends, I was happy to have you. But don’t beat yourself up about all of this, neither of us can control this.”

“I just want to make sure you’re not actually making yourself ill over this.”

“I’m not! No one chooses to be a servant. I’m sure we would all rather be princes and princesses.”

He tenderly kissed the back of my hand.“I love you. I want to take care of you.”

Just as our loving moment intensified, the door opened. I craned my neck upwards to see who it was, slightly relieved when I saw Gaius, though bashful over what he had walked in on. He halted in the doorway, raising an eyebrow at us as he closed the door.

“Not interrupting, am I?” he asked as he walked in.

Merlin playfully rolled his eyes.“Impeccable timing as always. (Y/N) is genuinely here for a reason, she’s stressing herself too much.”

“I told him it wasn’t a good enough reason Gaius.” I pointed out.

“On the contrary my dear, he is right. Merlin has expressed how worried he was about you. It was only a matter of time.” Merlin and I bashfully looked at each other.“Don’t worry you two, I won’t ruin your time together. Though don’t be surprised if I run back in here to hide from matron.”

[teletraan-meets-jarvis]

Monster - Part 2

AO3 Link

Characters: Commander Fox (Main), Commander Wolffe, Commander Cody, Captain Rex, Commander Stone, Corrie Medic Triage (OC).

Summary: Fox deals with the aftermath of his actions, unsure as to whether his brothers can forgive him.

Warnings: 16+, swearing, mentions of death.

Word Count: 3.5k

Part 1 here

Author’s Notes: I've been agonising over this chapter for far longer than necessary so please take it from me. Hopefully it's not complete gibberish. Feedback is appreciated as always, it's my first time writing such prominent clones all as proper characters in a fic so would be great to know what went well and where I can improve! This fic ends with this chapter but the ending leaves it open for imagination, if anyone has any cool thoughts for what may happen my inbox is always open to discuss further! Fic is below the cut, enjoy 😊.

When Fox next came around he was on the cheap sofa in his office. The rigid object making his back stiff, he must’ve been out for a while. He groaned as he attempted to sit up. He felt weak, his entire body sore and sensitive as he shuffled about.

“Welcome back, sunshine.” Stone greeted him while Triage appeared and started poking at him. Stone must’ve relieved Thorn from Fox babysitting duty. The thought made the Commander groan.

“How you feeling, boss?” The medic questioned as he started shining a small light into his eyes.

“Shit” he replied truthfully. “What happened?”

“You had a breakdown, a bad one.” The matter-of-fact bedside manner of the Guard’s chief medical officer was something Fox usually favoured, except when he was on the receiving end of it of course.

“Oh”

“It’s lucky Thorn found you when he did.” Triage chided while tapping away at his Datapad. His clean-shaven face focused as he went about the task. “You’ve got a visitor by the way”

“Hey vod” the gruff voice was followed by an even gruffer Commander strolling into view. What was Wolffe doing here?

“Thorn called.” Hm apparently he’d asked his question aloud.

Fox hadn’t seen Wolffe in months, he was always away on missions and rarely got down time when his Jedi had to return to Coruscant. His scar still stood out prominently against his tanned skin, but it looked better each time he saw him again, like it was slowly settling in to being a part of him. His armour was tattered, the grey paint scratched and chipped while the white plastoid was covered in the dirt of battle.

“Well I’m fi-“

“Don’t try it mir’sheb. I know what happened.” Fox flinched. Wolffe’s tone was flat when he spoke, his face unreadable and despite being one of the eldest of their batch, Fox felt very vulnerable under his little brother’s gaze.

As cadets and during command training, their batch had always been close, but Fox could confidently call Wolffe his best friend out of the lot. Their competitive nature pushed them to always be the best, their dry humour so cutting that only the other could truly understand it for what it was. Both of them were blunt, but over the years, the war had moulded them slightly differently. Where Fox was hardened and distant from his time on Coruscant, surprisingly, some of Wolffe’s ragged edges to his personality had softened. Not really noticeable if you didn’t know him from before, but Fox chalked it up to the friendship and mentoring of his wise Jedi and also his position as a Commander. Wolffe had lost his entire battalion early on in the war and Fox had held his heartbroken vodas he swore he would never let anything come between him and his men ever again. From that point on, Wolffe had gotten to know each member of his squad personally, always ensuring that they knew that despite his hard exterior, he’d always be there for them if they needed it.

Despite all this and how well Fox knew his brother, all that knowledge was doing nothing for him in his current situation. Wolffe knew that he’d killed another clone, yet he hadn’t lashed out yet. Was he just waiting until they were alone? The tension in the air threatening to smother them with each second that passed. Fox wasn’t ready for this conversation.

“We’ll give you two some privacy.” Triage announced before dragging a worried looking Stone out behind him.

Fox didn’t say anything, he just waited for the onslaught from his younger brother. He was sporting his signature frown which could mean a hundred different things.

“Before we even get into this, I just need you to know that we don’t hate you, Fox. We’ll always love you, you di’kut.” Wolffe’s voice finally carried some emotion now that they were alone. It held a mixture of things, brotherly frustration at Fox’s self-loathing, a fear for finding out things he might not want the answer to and the smallest twinge of betrayal for what Fox had done. But among the rest of it, among the words said, there was love. Fox huffed out a humourless laugh.

“Beats me as to why”

“We’re family. We don’t need a reason. We’re stuck with each other, whether you like it or not.”

Silence lingered between them as Fox finally found the courage to speak about the elephant in the room.

“I don’t know why I did it. I didn’t mean to.” His voice was faint, almost like if he said it any louder it’d all be real.

“I know ori’vod”

Fox finally launched into an explanation of what happened. His chest constricting further and further, threatening to rob his body of air as he pushed himself to get the story out. His hands shook in fear of what his closest brother would think of him, of what he’d done. Wolffe hadn’t spoken during the entire story, resigned to just watching him from his perch on his desk. Fox was panicking.

After what felt like the longest silence of Fox’s life, the younger Commander exhaled roughly, his bare hands rubbing at his scar out of habit as he processed the information. “You told Rex this?” Fox was shocked that out of everything to ask, that that was his question. The Guard Commander shook his head.

“Well, we better get him over here” Fox jumped out of his seat and placed a hand over his brother’s comm link.

“Kriff Wolffe, the poor guy has suffered enough. Last thing he needs is me begging for forgiveness for something he can’t forgive. I killed one of our own, one of his last few best friends. He hates me. And I really don’t blame him.”

“Maybe so, but he deserves to hear the truth from you. Whether or not he believes it is up to him.” Reluctantly, he let his arm go and stalked back over to the sofa. “I’ll comm Cody, he’s over there with him now.”

“Didn’t realise you were both planet side.” Fox grunted out, he could really do with some caff, his body was exhausted.

“The 104th were on their way back since Plo had some Jedi stuff to do, we touched down this afternoon. As for the 212th, they finished their last mission and once they heard about everything that’d been going on, General Kenobi requested they come back to help out. Though I have a feeling that was Cody wanting to check in on Rex.”

Fox wanted to ask how Rex was, but the searing guilt that burned in his chest couldn’t bear to ask the question. So he decided to check on some people who potentially hated him a smidge less, only a smidge though.

“Have you heard from the others?”

Wolffe nodded and went on to tell him about what the rest of their batch had been up to. Gree had recently been assigned to General Yoda, who he was absolutely terrified of. Fox didn’t blame him, the Jedi was extremely powerful for someone so pint sized, he’d also heard that he had a wicked sense of humour which would definitely stress Gree out, much to the amusement to the rest of his batch. Ponds was getting on nicely with Mace, they’d recently had a successful campaign near the outer rim and were due back on Coruscant soon. The eldest of their batch, Bly, was doing well too. Apparently Wolffe thought he had the hots for his General as Bly apparently refused to shut up about how amazing and strong and caring she was. Fox wasn’t sure if he was messing with him or not, but the thought brought a small smile to his face nonetheless. Trust Bly to fall in love with his Jedi General.

“What about you? How’s life in the Corrie Guard?” Wolffe asked.

Where could he even begin. Fox never offloaded about his problems onto anyone, except maybe his fellow Commanders in the Guard who he shared the burden with. Wolffe wouldn’t understand. A part of him also wanted to be the dutiful big brother and not place any worries or fears onto his vod’ika.

“Not much to report, same as always” he wasn’t lying at least. It was easier this way, for them not to know. They could keep thinking he was safe away from the battlefield. Their hopes in this war were already pretty low, they didn’t need to know about the horrors that lurked away, hidden among the senate corridors and the low levels of Coruscant.

——————————

Anxiety gripped at Fox’s chest as he paced a hole into his metal office floor. Waiting for Cody and Rex made him feel as if he was waiting for a death sentence. He thought of all the ways he could potentially escape but he knew Wolffe would be all over him. The 104th Commander always was a fan of tough love and things didn’t get tougher than this.

There was a slight commotion outside which pulled the both of them to attention.

Rex came storming in, his face set like stone, an angry frown marring his features and deepening the creases in his forehead. Once he set his sights on Fox nothing could deter him. “Rex, wait!” Wolffe shouted but he couldn’t stop him in time. Rex’s fist slammed into Fox’s nose with a sickening crack, sending the Commander sprawling backwards, catching himself on his desk as his nose started gushing blood.

Cody ran in from nowhere and locked Rex’s arms behind his back, trying to calm their little brother. “Rex, will you just listen to him.” He shouted down his ear while Fox recovered from the blow, cradling his now broken nose as Wolffe came to his side to help him back up.

“Why? Why should I listen? He didn’t listen to Fives!” Rex screamed back as he writhed in Cody’s arms. His words cut into Fox, making him grimace.

“I know. I’m so sorry, Rex.” Fox apologised with a burning sincerity, but it only deepened the frown on Rex’s face.

“I don’t want your apologies.” The Captain shouted back, gone was his usual professional composure. Right now he was a broken man who’d lost one of the last few people he’d let get close to him. There was no rank in this room right now, they were just a group of hurting vod, trying to pick up the pieces.

Rex spat his words out at Fox with a look that could kill, he probably wanted it to. He looked like he wanted Fox to hurt as much as he was right now. “Maker, I know Palpatine had you wrapped around his finger, I just didn’t realise how much.” Ouch.

“Rex” Cody reprimanded, his Marshall Commander voice coming out as he tried to defuse the situation. The Captain’s face was still masked in hurt and anger, but he did back down slightly after his verbal blow. “The past couple days has been hard for you vod, we know that and we’re here for you. But we wouldn’t be asking you to listen to Fox right now if we didn’t think it was worth it. Please, just give him a chance.” Once he finished, he nodded at Fox to signal him to get started. He took a deep breath and readied himself to try and explain the unexplainable.

“I know it sounds ridiculous but what happened back there, It wasn’t me” he started, and Rex just scoffed, still struggling against Cody’s hold. “Look, I can’t explain it. But I set that gun to stun, I swear to you, Rex. I know you all think I’m some cold, order-following droid but I would’ve brought him… I would’ve brought Fives, in for questioning. You- you have to believe me.” Fox pleaded, blood still trickling down his face from his broken nose. He wasn’t their usual, sarcastic, caffeine deprived big brother. No, Fox was a complete mess as he tried to reason with Rex. He couldn’t bare his brothers thinking that he did this willingly, that he’d turn on his own kind with just a simple order.

“What do you mean it wasn’t you?” Rex’s gaze was still unsure, but he’d never seen Fox like this before. He looked desperate, much like Fives had.

“I- I blacked out. One minute we were moving in and as soon as I saw Fives, and I know this sounds crazy, it’s like something else took over. I was just watching from the sidelines.” Fox gave an exasperated sigh as he tried to explain himself.

“Like something was controlling you?” Rex asked, the cogs in his brain turning as he waited for a reply. Fox just gave an ashamed nod and dreaded realisation dawned on Rex’s face.

“Maybe Fives wasn’t crazy” he said it as barely a whisper but with the silence in the room they all managed to hear it.

“What do you mean?” Cody questioned as he finally let his vod’ika go, content that he wasn’t going to assault the Guard Commander further. Rex used the freedom to go and lock the door to Fox’s office.

“What I’m about to say doesn’t leave this room, understand? No one can know, not our vode, not your Jedi, nobody.” The three of them nodded.

“Before he died, Fives was trying to explain what was going on to General Skywalker and me, he said that there’s something in our heads that could make us do whatever someone wanted… Even kill the Jedi.” Wolffe and Cody’s eyes widened at the thought, finding it impossible to even comprehend hurting their Generals who they cared for deeply.

“And if, if, he’s right about that, well, he said the Chancellor is in on the whole thing. That he set him up. And as insane as it sounds, that could explain why he sent Fox, of all people, to hunt him down.” Rex finally spared him a glance that wasn’t filled with complete hate, there was a slight bit of pity in for good measure instead.

“You’re saying that the Chancellor has some sort of control over me?” Fox replied. The colour draining from his face as he considered the option.

“I’m saying… it’s a possibility. After seeing what happened with Tup, what you’re saying happened to you doesn’t seem far off. He had no idea why he killed General Tiplar. Said he didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“Okay hold on, so you’re trying to tell us that Fives uncovered a plot by the Chancellor which involves all of the clones having something in their heads which allows them to be controlled, with the likely purpose of it being to kill the Jedi?” Wolffe asked with the hopes that he might wake up from this weird dream he found himself in.

“Pretty much” Rex replied.

“Ozik” Cody cursed. “And you believe him? Fives? You sure he didn’t just lose it?” The Marshal Commander needed this final confirmation from his brother.

“I-” Rex exhaled and dragged a gloved hand down his face “I think I do. I wasn’t sure before but with what Fox is saying, it’s all a bit too much of a coincidence. I believe him enough to at least look into what he was talking about. He wouldn’t have risked everything he did for nothing.”

Fox tried to keep breathing as the conversation went on. Controlled. A plot to kill the Jedi. Maker this was too much. Surely they had to be wrong. But then he remembered his shit show of a life, the things that the chancellor made him do, things he’d never do willingly if he had the choice like a true sentient being. Maybe it wasn’t such a faraway reality. He repressed the shiver that threatened his body.

“You do realise we’ll get executed on the spot if we’re found looking into this. This is treason. If what you’re saying is true, then it sounds like they went to some pretty serious lengths to keep Fives from outing them.” Wolffe added, ever the pessimist. Not that Fox blamed him, they were moving into dangerous territory with this talk.

“You three can walk away, but I owe this to Fives and Tup.” Rex said, conviction written all over his face.

“I’m in” Fox announced as he wiped most of the blood away from his nose and mouth. The ache from his broken nose setting in as the adrenaline from his and Rex’s confrontation started wearing off.

Wolffe and Cody shared a glance, a silent conversation taking place between the two of them. They both shared strong bonds with their Jedi in different ways, they wanted to do everything in their power to protect them, but could they keep this a secret for long enough? Obi-Wan and Plo were very in touch with their Commander’s emotions. There was a chance they’ll figure out something was up sooner than they’d like. They would just have to work fast. Cody nodded at Wolffe, and the decision was made.

“We’re in too” Wolffe confirmed. “I don’t want any more of our brothers to die if we can help it.”

“What about Skywalker? He was with you and Fives, do we at least have him on side?” Cody asked and Rex pulled a disappointed face.

“As soon as Fives mentioned the Chancellor being involved, Anakin wrote the whole thing off… It’s just us.”

“We can work with that” Cody comforted with a hand on his little brother’s shoulder and a small smile. The Commander’s comm link started chirping and he gave them all a sorry look. “It’s the General, I better take this and head back. But we’ll catch up later.”

“79’s?” Wolffe offered. Despite none of them fancying a night out, there was no better place to get privacy than a noisy bar filled with identical faces. Cody nodded and quickly departed.

Eventually they had to call Triage back to deal with Fox’s nose. He’d done well to hide the pain during the chat between the four of them, but it had quickly started to take over his thoughts. Thankfully his CMO came armed with pain stims and for once, Fox didn’t get absolutely ripped into by the medic as this injury wasn’t a result of his own stupidity. Well, to be fair, he was sure that assessment was up for debate, especially from Rex who was talking quietly with Wolffe around Fox’s desk.

Fox poked at the metal brace and bandages on his nose, the Bacta patch under it was a squishy texture. Triage knocked his hand away like a parent would a child who was reaching for the last cookie. “Don’t touch it” he warned, and Fox moved his hands back down to his side. “Given our accelerated cell regen and the Bacta patch, you should be good to wear your helmet again by tomorrow” Fox gave his thanks to the medic by clasping his wrist in a handshake before he was left alone with his vode again.

Wolffe conveniently dipped out to use the fresher, leaving Rex and Fox alone for the first time since the incident. Fox’s heart rate sped up as he thought about it, the scenes of Fives’ death playing over and over again in his head like a horror film on repeat. That look on Rex’s face when their eyes met over Fives’ body, seared into his brain as a constant reminder of what he did.

They stared at each other from across the room, Fox was still sat on his cheap, rock solid couch while Rex was stood by his desk.

Fox couldn’t hold the eye contact; he broke it off and shifted his gaze to his hands.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. It’s not what I’m asking for, you're well within your rights to hate me. But I just want you to know that I wouldn’t hurt you like this willingly. It’s the last thing I’d ever want.” Fox broke the silence. Still not brave enough to meet Rex’s eyes, to see the disappointment and betrayal which would likely be waiting for him.

He heard some shuffling and the couch sink down slightly beside him. He dared a look over and saw Rex’s scratched leg armour.

“I don’t hate you, Fox. I know you were put in a tough situation. I know I like to think I would’ve handled it differently, but truth be told, I don’t know what could’ve happened if Fives didn't put us in that ray shield. And while I don’t want to think about it, I have a feeling someone would’ve got to him eventually. It was inevitable.” He paused and took a shuddering breath. “I just… I just need a bit of time.”

“I appreciate that, take all the time you need.” They both shared a small smile, content that they’d get past this together. There was light on the other side of this dark tunnel.

Rex really did care about Fox; he’d always looked up to him over the years. He remembers the small stuff, the words of encouragement when a training simulator went wrong, the proud look on his face when he got promoted to Captain, the many nights of drinking Thire’s rocket-fuel moonshine in Fox’s office when Rex needed to escape from the war for a few hours.

They’d be fine, time was always the best healer. Fox just hoped that they had enough time left.

Back to Part 1

Back to Masterlist

[amerrierworld]

Babysitter (pt 9)

Thor (Ragnarok) - fanfiction

Pt 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 

Summary: A Loki interlude.

Characters: Hela, Loki

Word Count: 2,111

Warnings: Idk, swearing?

Loki was incredibly annoyed at the current situation. 

He’d woken up on a random, clunky spaceship with a pounding head and a bruised neck. He remembered the world going blank and being quite certain that he’d been dead until, frustratingly so, his lungs gasped for the most painful breath he’d ever taken. 

A janky pirate ship had snatched him from floating in space amongst the debris, stripped him of his armour -no doubt to sell or melt down into other knick knacks- and left him in the back amongst the cargo. They’d presumed he was dead, so when he had woken up, they had a bit of a shock. 

Not a word was comprehensible, Loki couldn't understand whatever gibberish language they spoke, so he ignored them and shuffled to their food supply. That got him a whack on his back from a whip and a kick to the back of the knees. 

Trying to take back his armour also earned him a few bruises. They didn’t seem very dangerous, but quite a nuisance. 

Amongst the cargo he found familiar debris that struck an icy chord inside Loki. There were piles of Asgardian clothing- ripped and filthy, but Asgardian nonetheless. Bags with very few belongings, and metal scraps of the ship they had been on. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the remainder of the ship of refugees was probably lost. When the pirates began to beat him again for rummaging through their stuff, a rusty old pipe amongst the stolen goods helped quiet them down immensely. 

With his kidnappers knocked out, Loki scarfed down what measly rations they had and set course for Earth at light speed -well, the closest speed they got to light speed which was more like a quick paced jog. 

He tied up the crew and tossed them in the back, and lounged in the cockpit as the ship traveled on autopilot, picking scraps of food from between his teeth. 

Communications on this ship were absolute garbage, he concluded. There was barely any signal and he couldn’t figure out where the closest planet was. So, he took a nap, ate some more food, and tried not to think too much about the harrowing experience of Thanos choking him to death.

Hours later, they entered a very familiar atmosphere. Loki let the ship crash-land, grabbed a bag of few supplies and hopped out just before they hit the ground. 

He marched on through the thicket of trees where they landed. Angry shouts that were no doubt curse words echoed from the smoking ship as he left them behind and tried to gather his bearings. 

An old cabin was the first building he saw. With a rusty dagger at the ready, he inspected the home around the back, looking for a vehicle he could take, something to get him moving faster than his legs, when suddenly a high pitched shriek nearly shattered his eardrums.

A young girl, no older than six, was staring at him with big brown eyes. Rain boots covered in mud, an aged stuffy in her hands. Loki put his finger to his lips, dreading that he was going to have to kill the girl before she gave him away or screamed bloody murder. 

“Daddy! There’s an Avenger in the yard!” she sped off towards a shed, where there was a light on inside. Loki’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. Whatever outcome he was expecting, this was by far the worst. 

“I’m not- fuck.”

He shoved the dagger away and out of sight and stomped towards the shed, fuming with annoyance. He was about to go off at the man for letting his daughter talk to random strangers and how he certainly was not an Avenger, but the man in question had a large saw in hand and about 200 pounds of muscle to carry, so he snapped his mouth shut. 

“Oh, hello there,” he said, his daughter bouncing about the workshop. “What brings one of you all the way out here?”

“And where exactly is out here?” Loki asked.

“Canada! What, you superheroes never been to Canada before? Always hanging around New York, eh? Are you taking a trip or something?”

“No. I, uh, crash-landed here.”

“From space?” the girl piped up, gawking.

“Yes, from space,” Loki said through gritted teeth. “Fighting angry aliens.”

“I told you, Daddy! He’s a hero!”

“I bet you’re trying to find your way to America, then? Lord knows why, there’s all kinds of weird things happening around town nowadays.”

“What do you mean?”

“Half the world’s gone! Poof! Just like that, some alien business I bet.”

“Are you going to save us from them?” his daughter asked again. Loki sighed.

“I’ll try my best. Now, can you please show me how to get to New York as fast as possible?”

The lumberjack’s husband took Loki and his daughter in his jeep and drove a merry long way to the nearest airport. On the way, the little girl asked him all sorts of questions about the Avengers, that he could only half-answer.

“Is it true Thor is super powerful?”

“Well. He's not that powerful. He just uses a hammer. Anyone with a hammer can use it as a weapon and suddenly be considered powerful.”

“I wish I had a super powerful hammer. Then my brothers would stop teasing me so much.”

“Hey,” her second father softly scolded.

“They’re mean!”

“Sibling feuds? I know the feeling,” Loki muttered.

“Do you have siblings, Mr. Avenger?”

“Sure do,” he smiled wryly. “Absolute bullies.”

“Me too!”

“Hey now, let our guest settle down a bit,” her dad said. “She gets a little excited around new people, so sorry.”

“It’s no problem.”

“The local airport’s just up here. It’ll take you to Detroit, and then you gotta get a connection flight to New York.”

“Thank you,” Loki said, genuinely.

“Why are you going to New York, Mr. Avenger?”

“To find my siblings,” Loki sighed. “At least, one of them should still be there.”

“But they’re mean to you?”

“Yeah,” Loki pondered as the car came to a stop. “But they’re family. I suppose.”

-

A few cunning lies and disguises later, Loki was suddenly landing in New York, amidst chaos. It had been a few days since he’d woken up, and apparently a few days since what they call the ‘Blip’. Humans clearly don’t like having their realities altered. 

Your home was abandoned. Alfred didn't even greet Loki at the door, and no amount of pulling and prying opened it for him. The lights were off, and he feared the worst.

It wasn’t until he was in the streets and overhead muttering about some crazy goth lady terrorizing a nearby street that Loki thought he had finally found something.  

He marched down the street until, to his surprise, he found Hela sitting hunched on the side walk, scowling and daring anyone to come close to her. She looked incredibly tired and disheveled, but her eyes were clear and angry, and recognized her idiot brother immediately. 

“What the hell brought you back here?” Hela snarled. 

“A toddler’s wisdom, if you’ll believe it,” Loki said, ignoring her glare as he sat down next to her. 

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks. So do you.”

Hela grumbled. 

“Have you eaten?”

“Since when did you become Mother? I don't need your help.”

“Really?” Loki picked up a filthy scoop from a pile of three ice cream tubs that were fully devoured. He dangled it from his fingertips for a moment, pulling a face. “I think you do.”

“You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Glad to see you too, sister.”

Silence. Hela really did look like shit, Loki noted. Her hair was mussed, and there were rips and broken pieces in her armour, reminiscent of the time they’d met. She had to be weak not to bother fixing it with her powers, or was just too preoccupied to even think to fix it. 

“Where’s Y/N?” Loki asked. 

“Beats me.”

“Did you kill her?”

Hela’s eyes snapped to his, a sudden fire in them. “How dare you say that?”

“Well, her home is abandoned and no one answered the door, and you’re here  cowering like a criminal. One makes conclusions.”

Something changed in her expression, and she turned her body to face him. “Abandoned?”

Loki frowned, “yes. Didn't you know?”

“No- I.. I’ve been here, the last time I saw her...” 

Hela jumped to her feet, nearly kicking Loki in the process. “That bastard, he took her, didn’t he? Him and his awful, forsaken pieces of shit he calls friends.”

“Who?”

“Our darling brother,” she spat. “He came in and- and threatened me, and then took her from me.”

She paced in front of him, green fire trailing behind her heels, hot with anger. She had expected you to come find her, take her back to your home, make her feel safe. But when you never came she had assumed you had abandoned her. Now, knowing Thor had taken you instead, filled her with rage.

“Where does your little posse hang out, hm? Some supposed secret lair? A great big castle in the sky?”

Loki blinked at her, at her sudden outbursts, at the scared glances from passerbys, and didn’t know what to say.

“Fine then, I’ll get her myself,” she growled, turning away from him. 

Loki nearly let her walk away, let her walk into whatever doom she was getting  herself into, but with a groan and a mad realization, he knew she was the only one he could rely on right now.

“Wait,” he said, reluctantly, hurrying after her and grabbing her arm. “You can’t just go running off. Tell me what happened.”

Hela spat at his feet. “I don’t need to tell you anything.”

“You care about her, don't you? Y/N? Why else would you want to ‘rescue’ her from our brother?”

“Be silent,” she hissed.

“No, no, I’m right, aren’t I? You care for her, but you messed up, and now you have no one on your side. That’s why you left, and that’s why Thor had to take her.”

Hela yanked her arm away before Loki could see her face, but he knew what she felt; remorse, and loss. 

“Tell me.”

And so, reluctantly, knowing she had no other choice, Hela sat him down, this time on an actual park bench rather than the ground. She told him what had happened, how her mistrust had turned to affection for you, and how Thanos had destroyed everything in the end, and how the Avengers had fought her out of fear.

“I know the feeling,” Loki agreed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, watching an elderly lady feed a bunch of pigeons as if nothing drastic had happened to the world the past few days. 

“And now I don't know where she is, and she probably hates me, but who am I to blame her for that?”

“If I know anything about Y/N, is that she cares about everyone, but it takes a lot more to win her love. She doesn’t hate you. She’s just afraid. I mean, you did after all break her window and run off into nowhere.”

Hela stayed quiet, made an annoyed sound in her throat, and looked away.

“I’m starving, how did you get all that ice-cream? Why not an actual meal? Or were you just eating your feelings?”

“Y/N doesn’t like it when I kill people, so it was either massacre the street or steal their dairy products,” Hela bristled. 

“Fair enough.”

“Now what, hm? You come out here, seemingly from the dead, chastise me for messing up, and now judge my diet? What do you really want, Loki?”

“Not sure, to be perfectly honest,” Loki said. “I thought I was dead, and then I wasn’t. Frankly, my priorities are shifting.”

“And what is your current priority?”

“Getting you back to Y/N so you stop moping around and fix this.”

“And how do you suppose we do that?”

Loki grinned, standing up. His armour shimmered and regained its full glamour; horned helmet and deep green cloak. 

“Taking notes from me, are we?” Hela grumbled. Loki glared at her.

“I was wearing this look long before you got here. Now, get up, we’re going to infiltrate the Avengers and give you your romantic happily-ever-after so you stop being such a pain in everyone’s neck.”

“You think we’ll just be able to get in? You really are as mad as Father was.”

“I’ve broken into quite a few places over the years, I’ll have you know. I’m the God of Mischief after all.”

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” Hela stood, her own armour strengthening again. 

“Shut it.”

A/N: Loki is not dead! I know he’s technically alive in an alternate universe or whatever.. but I wanted the Odin Trio to be together sooooo here we are. Let me know what you think!!

taglist: @midnight-lestrange​​ @cheerfullyvenomous​ @germansarechill​@gaylorrds @amii-nyc​ @waitingfortheendtocome​ @novakitten0901​@marvels-writings​ 

[skyriderwednesday]

Related to my post about Sam's nose/sense of smell and regarding having his nose fixed:

It has been six days since the swelling went down and, from Sam Vimes's perspective, six days since he developed a sense of smell. He hates it. It's overwhelming.

Being able to breathe in with his mouth shut should be worth it, but it isn't useful yet. It won't be until his memory catches up to the fact he now can.

His nose is closer now to what's supposed to be its proper shape, which makes his face look a bit less weird, but at the same time more weird. The bridge of his nose is actually in the middle of his face. He's not sure symmetry suits him.

There are positives. He can breathe while eating, food tastes of more. He knows what coffee tastes like now and he's reconsidering exactly how much sugar he usually puts into it. He understands now why pepper makes people sneeze.

He doesn't have to turn his head so much to kiss Sybil, and they can kiss for a lot longer now. Sure she keeps touching his face, but she does call him handsome whenever she does it. It's not true, and he still doesn't like compliments, but Sybil makes him feel fuzzy with her smile and he can never help himself from smiling at her back.

If only he didn't keep smelling things by accident.

He could smell the dragons already, the sour burnt odour that caused his sinuses to barricade themselves, but now he can distinguish exactly what makes up that smell. He was almost sick the first time he walked into the pens on Monday evening, and that was not long after they had been cleaned. It's going to take him a long time to go as blind to the smell as he had.

He could also have done without having his nose fixed in the summer. He could always smell the river when it was really hot and the wind wasn't blowing, but the air stinks of it even when the weather is mild. Cloud cover makes it worse, and humidity... gods, not even the rain manages to wash the stench away. Sam always wondered why he'd occasionally see people wearing cloth masks over their faces in the summer, now he thinks he might join them. The smell makes his eyes burn if he's out in it too long.

He's almost glad that he'd already experienced the river and the dragons however, otherwise Nobby might actually have made him sick. There are too many smells there, he doesn't want to know what most of them are. Some of them are masked by cigarette smoke, which isn't really an improvement.

His office smells too heavily of cigar smoke, which he didn't realise was all that different from cigarettes. It also smells like damp paper which... yeah, Sam doesn't like that smell. It reminds him of something, when he was very small and... the memory is too blurry to make out, but he knows he doesn't want to remember it.

Carrot smells like armour polish. Cheery smells like flowery perfume and faintly of burnt hair. Angua smells less like dog than he would have expected her to and more like something he can't pin down. Reg doesn't actually smell that bad, just sort of dry and weird. Fred smells like... uh... Fred? Sam's fairly sure that's closer to what your average bloke is supposed to smell like, but he realises he doesn't know many average blokes.

Igor, who smells of disinfectant most of the time, keeps taking notes. Lots of notes. It's like Sam is the subject of his newest experiment. Which he wouldn't mind really, if Igor would stop trying to make him smell things, and if there were fewer iconographs of the faces he pulls in reaction to things.

Why the hell does Vetinari smell like ginger? And... mint? Sam had to go through the kitchen for reference for those. It's weird, those scents are too much on him. Sam hadn't expected him to smell like anything honestly, and if he really thinks about it, the mint might have something to do with aftershave (which reminds him, it turns out he really hates his) but ginger? That will take some figuring out.

He'll get used to it, Sybil says. She, by the way, smells warm, a bit like dragons but in a way he likes, and her perfume is much subtler than Cheery's. It's lemony, and a bit like grapes. It's probably very sophisticated, but he has to be right up against her to smell it.

He's sure she's right, everyone else smells things all the time, but he hasn't been able to smell much of anything since he was thirteen, and getting it all back at once... well he could have done with a bit more warning. Waking up being able to smell things gives him a headache and if that carries on, he's not sure he's going to be able to cope with it all.

--

His ears are ringing when he wakes up. He can taste old blood on the back of his tongue and his entire face hurts like hell. His jaw aches and his nose is throbbing. What exactly it was that hit him in the face, Sam doesn't know, but it knocked him out cold, and – he can already tell – broke his nose for the tenth (or is that eleventh?) time in his life. He can feel the bandages, he thinks there's something splinting one side of his nose. At least he seems to still have most of his teeth.

By the time the bruising has cleared up and his nose has mostly healed, Sam's sense of smell is once again dulled. His breathing isn't too bad, but he again has to try if he wants to smell subtle things, and the strongest smells have had the worst taken out of them. His nose is crooked again, but it gives him back 'some of his old character' according to Sybil.

Two months? Was that all it lasted? Oh well. That's life for you.

He won't have it fixed again. He'd probably only get his nose broken again even sooner if he did.

[words-with-wren]

you’ll be alright, no one can hurt you now

Words: 3,500ish

Fandom: Tangled the Series

Characters: Varian, Eugene, Rapunzel, Ruddiger (also Pascal make an appearance)

Warnings: minor whump (I keep putting Varian through it i’m not sorry), flashbacks, probably bad portrayal of PTSD

___

“So what, exactly, is this amazing new job you have?” Varian asked. He was sitting on a barrel in the armoury, Ruddiger dozing in his lap. The armoury was not Varian’s favourite place in the castle, to say the least, but Eugene had invited him along while he got ready and Varian wasn’t going to say no to a Team Awesome adventure, as small though it was. 

Something heavy hit the ground around the corner where Eugene was getting changed. A muffled curse followed, Eugene muttering something under his breath. There was a moment of silence, in which Varian smiled fondly and stroked Ruddiger’s ears. 

“Uh, yeah, fancy new job - as captain of the guard I have the prestigious honour of standing by and looking fancy while the important boatload of people comes in from Ingvarr.” 

Varian couldn’t help but smile at the way he spoke - he clearly wasn't that keen on the job opportunity. 

“You’ll be great at it, isn’t standing around looking fancy what you do most of the day anyway?” 

“Ha!” Eugene shot back from behind the wall, and Varian grinned again. “I’ll have you know it’s taken a lot of effort to look this fancy.” 

A pair of guards marched passed the door and Varian shifted to watch them, suddenly on edge. He slipped off the barrel, relocating a slightly grumpy Ruddiger to his shoulder and stepped a little closer towards the wall Eugene was behind. 

“So, why exactly, did we need to come down here? Are you not fancy enough already?” he asked, forcing himself to relax. There wasn’t anything to be nervous about - he just didn’t like this part of the castle. 

“Kid I am always fancy enough,” Eugene said, sounding almost offended. Varian rolled his eyes with a grin. “However, as captain of the guard, I have the ability to… dress up a little.” He stepped out into view and Varian froze. 

It wasn’t that he was surprised - he had suspected this was why they had come down here in the first place. It was more the sudden wave of memories and emotions that seeing Eugene in the guard uniform brought back. 

Cold, stone walls. Cruel faces, hard blows, pushes, kicks, hungry days and endless nights. Gold metal, flashing off the dim light that shone through his tiny window. Red fabric, red like the blood he found on his hands sometimes.

He was breathing quickly, frozen, unable to move, unable to properly think. Somehow, it was worse seeing Eugene in their uniform. Eugene was comfort, friendship, home, happiness. The guards were hard, cruel, pain, loneliness. He couldn’t connect the two in his mind and seeing Eugene in the armour made him feel sick. 

And yet Eugene stood before him, the sparkling gold chest plate of the Corona guard shining on his chest. And Varian froze, the achingly familiar expression of hardness and emotionlessness settling on his face instinctively. 

“Kid?” Eugene asked, taking a hesitant step forward. He hadn’t missed the panic that flashed across Varian’s face before being replaced with a carefully schooled expression that betrayed nothing. Ruddiger chattered nervously, gently butting Varian’s cheek. Varian, as though he wasn’t aware of what he was doing, pulled Ruddiger down, hugging him close, watching Eugene with an expression he didn’t like. 

“Do I really look that bad?” Eugene asked, keeping his voice light. He took a step forward but Varian flinched, stepping back quickly and Eugene froze. “Hey, it’s alright kid.” He crouched, trying to make himself seem less threatening, unsure what exactly had Varian so spooked. 

“I -” Varian began, his voice shaky. 

“It’s just Eugene,” he tried to tell himself, but the armour in front of him brought back too many memories, too many long faded bruises and hopeless nights. “Eugene wouldn’t hurt me.” 

But the guards would. And standing in front of him was a guard. 

“Varian, talk to me buddy,” Eugene's voice was even and Varian took a shaky breath, pressing his face into Ruddiger’s fur. 

“It’s just Eugene,” he told himself again. 

“Everything alright, captain?” 

The voice sent a rush of panic through him, nausea rising for a moment. He knew that voice - it had been directed towards him many times. The scornful, mocking, cruel voice of one of the guards who had frequented him while he was in prison. 

(For a moment, he was back, the walls drawing in around him, the helplessness weighing on him again and he couldn’t breathe.) 

“Everything is fine, Rick,” Eugene said, his voice hard. He didn’t stand, looking past Varian’s slightly shaking form. He had butted heads with the man a few times since becoming captain - Rick was one of the vocal guard members who were not a fan of having a former criminal become captain of the guard. 

He had also, from memory, run into him from time to time while running as Flynn Rider. None of the interactions had been pleasant. And from the way Varian was shaking, the boy had a similar experience. 

“Are you sure? Because I can deal with him, if you want me to.” There was an air of smugness about Rick, as though he knew Eugene couldn’t do anything to him. Realistically, he was right - even as captain, there was only so much Eugene could do. Especially with half the guard waiting for him to fail. 

A small whimper escaped from Varian at the words and he took an uncertain step towards Eugene. He was holding Ruddiger so tightly, Eugene wondered briefly if he was hurting the animal, but Ruddiger wasn’t complaining, pressing his face into Varian’s chin in a comforting gesture. 

Eugene stood slowly, not missing the slight flinch the movement drew from Varian. He was beginning to piece the picture together - Corona was infamous for its mistreatment of criminals after Rapunzel had been taken. Eugene himself had experienced abuse at the hands of the Corona guard on the few occasions they had managed to catch him. 

He had just been a petty thief. Varian had been a traitor. Had kidnapped the queen and threatened Corona’s beloved princess. 

A slow flame of anger began burning in Eugene’s chest as the thoughts flashed through his mind in a second. Varian was standing between himself and Rick, shivering slightly, holding Ruddiger tight and Eugene clenched his fists. 

“I think you should leave,” he said, struggling to keep his voice under control. Rick eyed him for a long moment and then smirked. 

“And what are you going to do, Rider. Criminals sticking together, I see.” He spat the last, taking a threatening step forward. 

Varian felt fear clench at his chest and he took a step back, towards the comforting presence of Eugene. But the flash of gold from Eugene’s uniform caught the corner of his eye and he bit his lip, trying to not to show emotion. 

And then a hand was placed on his shoulder and Varian couldn’t handle it anymore. Terror shot through him, the memories of all the beatings and pain and fear and hopelessness overwhelming him. He couldn't breathe for a moment -  he had to move, to get away from the gold armour and the sneers. The memories of that darkness. He had to run. He shoved back against the hand on his shoulder, needing to get away before the beatings began, before the pain returned. 

He barely knew where he was going, just that he had to run, had to get away, had to find somewhere safe. Ruddiger was warm in his arms and he buried his face in the raccoon’s fur, hot tears leaking from his eyes as he ran. 

A part of him hated that he was running. Hated that he was running from Eugene. But the wild, animal fear and panic overtook him and he ran. 

Eugene raised his hand with an internal curse - Varian usually loved touch, loved casual hands on his shoulder or hair ruffles. But clearly this had been too much and Eugene berated himself for not seeing that. 

Rick let out a short laugh as Varian bolted from the room. 

“Looks like you caught him in another crime. What was he doing this time? Sabotaging the water?”

He laughed as though it were funny and Eugene fought down the urge to punch him. He forced his anger back with effort, clenching his fists by his side and quickly leaving the room. 

“We’re going to have a talk later,” he said as he left, his voice sharp. Rick only laughed again, and Eugene tried not to let that get to him. 

Varian had vanished, and Eugene tried not to let worry take over. He took a shaky breath and decided that was probably for the best - however he had spooked Varian to begin with, he probably wasn’t the best person to be tracking down the kid. 

He didn’t even knock as he pushed open the door to Rapunzel’s room. She looked up in surprise as he entered, lowering the brush she was running through her hair. 

“Eugene, what’s wrong?” she asked, instantly sensing his concern. He let out a long breath, pacing the room. 

“I lost the kid,” he muttered. “He spooked, or something and… just ran.” 

“Varian?” Rapunzel asked, and Eugene nodded, stopping in the middle of the room and playing with the glove on one hand. 

“I’m not sure what exactly it was,” he said. “Bad memories… something. Rick didn’t help,” he added darkly. “But I don’t think I’m the best person to be looking for him right now.” 

“I’ll find him,” Rapunzel said, without hesitation. She placed the brush down and stood and Eugene couldn’t help but feel relieved, even though he knew she would help. He reached out to take her hand, moving hair out of her face with his other hand. “If the ambassador arrives before I find him -”

“I’ll cover for you, don’t worry,” he said, holding her hands with his. She smiled, reaching up to kiss him quickly. “Thanks, Sunshine,” he said as she pulled away, Pascal bounding up her dress onto her shoulder. 

“I’ll find him, don’t worry,” Rapunzel said as she left the room. Eugene let out a long breath as she left, running a hand through his hair and forcing himself to breathe. 

Pascal chirped in Rapunzel’s ear as she moved quickly through the halls, trying to guess where Varian might be hiding. She was vaguely aware of the greetings from various guards and maids in the halls as she made her way towards Varian’s lab. Each greeting she returned, but her heart wasn’t in it, concern for her friend growing. 

“Varian?” she called, knocking lightly in the laboratory door. There was no answer, so she pushed it open slowly. 

The room was empty, a complicated pattern of pipes and jars set up on the table, messy notes scribble along the walls. Rapunzel stepped into the room, flicking off the flame that was burning under a vial of some bubbling blue chemical (that really didn’t seem safe) and turning to take in the whole room. 

“Varian?” she called. Pascal crawled down her dress to examine under the table, in case he was hiding there. There was no answer, and Rapunzel frowned, worried. Pascal bounded back to her and she bent to pick him up, lifting her back to her shoulder. “Where could he be?” she muttered. Pascal shrugged. 

Eugene had said something had spooked him, it was likely he would find somewhere to hide. She mentally ran through a checklist of places, rejecting a few (there would be too many people in the kitchen, he couldn’t climb like Pascal, he was much larger than Pascal) and finally began to move through the castle. 

It was the third place she looked that she finally found him. The linen cupboard on the second floor, curled up on the bottom shelf so small she almost missed him when she opened the door. Ruddiger caught her attention, trilling softly. 

She settled on her knees, bending down to see him. He was curled in a tight ball, clutching Ruddigier, his face turned away from her. 

“Varian?” she asked quietly. He took a shaky breath and looked up, a clearly forced smile on his face. 

“Oh, uh, he-hey, princess,” he said, rubbing a hand across his face. “Uh, sorry I was just..” 

Rapunzel resisted the urge to haul him into a hug - he seemed raw, fragile and she wasn’t sure if that would help or make things worse. Instead, she shifted, sitting cross-legged and smiled. 

“It’s okay,” she said. “You want to talk?” 

He hesitated, looking down at Ruddiger and running a hand through the raccoon’s fur. 

“I don’t know,” he said finally, not looking up. 

“How about a hug then?” Rapunzel asked. He looked up finally, a small real smile on his face. 

“Yeah, I could go for that,” he said. Rapunzel didn’t hesitate any longer, reaching into the cupboard and pulling him into her arms. He relaxed into her, Ruddiger pressed in between them. For a long time, she stayed like that, holding him, and slowly, she became aware that he was crying, his shoulders shaking silently. 

“Varian?” she asked, burying a hand in his hair. He pulled back, sitting on the edge of the shelf and looking down. His eyes were wet and he ran a hand through Ruddiger’s fur, not meeting her eyes. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, blinking a few times. Rapunzel leaned forward, laying a hand on his shoulder. 

“Don’t be,” she said quietly. 

“I just…” He wrapped a hand around himself, the other still buried in Ruddiger’s fur. “I saw Eugene in that uniform and… eh-heh. It brought back bad memories.” He looked up, meeting her eyes for a second and then dropping his. “Is… I mean… Eugene, he’s…” He trailed off, unable to find the words. 

“Eugene understands,” she said quietly. “And he doesn’t blame you - no one does.” She shifted, standing and holding out a hand. “Want to find somewhere more comfortable to talk about it? Besides,” she added, a slight grin in her voice, “we want to get away before Old Lady Crowley finds us in her linens - she’ll make us wash them all.”  

That got a small smile out of Varian. He hesitated a moment, then took her hand and let her pull him up. Ruddiger bounded onto his shoulder as Rapunzel led him back towards her room, his hand still firmly grasped in hers. 

They were settled on Rapunzel’s bed when there was a soft knock at the door, and Eugene’s face appeared. Relief washed across his face as he caught sight of Varian. 

“You found him,” he said, the relief clear in his voice. “I’ll… leave you to it, then.” He began to close the door but Varian stopped him before he left fully. 

“No!” he called. “No, I… I mean… you don’t have too.” He rubbed Ruddiger’s fur between his fingers, forcing a small smile. Eugene seemed relieved at the invitation, stepping into the room. 

To Varian’s relief, he was no longer wearing the uniform. He crossed the room, settling on the bed a little apart from them, concern clear on his face. But no accusation. No blame, and Varian was grateful for that. 

Unable to take the distance between them anymore, Varian moved across the bed, wrapping his arms around Eugene and hugging him tightly. For a moment, Eugene reacted in surprise, then he returned the embrace, rubbing Varian’s back. 

“Sorry,” Varian whispered. 

“Hey, don’t be kiddo,” Eugene said. Varian pulled back with a smile and Rapunzel shifted closer to them. 

“You want to talk?” Rapunzel asked, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Ruddiger bounded back into his lap and suddenly, nestled between Rapunzel and Eugene, Varian realised he did want to talk. 

He hadn’t spoken to anyone about what that year had been like. Hadn’t shown anyone except Ruddiger how much it had worn away at him, how much it had chipped him down and exhausted him. It had seemed too dark, too hard to revisit. 

But Eugene’s arm around him was strong, Rapunzel’s warm. They were both watching him, unaccusingly, unpitying, just lovingly. Ruddiger purred softly, giving him the strength he needed to talk. 

He talked. He told them about the anger, about the rage he felt towards everyone who had betrayed him. He told them about the cold cell, about the prison food, about the long nights, the loneliness. He told them about the guards, how they accused him, beat him, starved him. (He felt Eugene’s fist clench behind his back, saw Rapunzel’s face harden, knew they were angry, but not at him.) 

He told them about the darkness, about the coldness, about the hopelessness. He told them about way they slowly chipped away at everything that made him who he was, turned him into a shell of anger and hurt and brokenness. 

He told them about Andrew, about the false hope he had grasped at. He told them about how he had clung to the Saporians like a lifeline, how he had internalised every comment, how he had seen no other way out. He told them how he had broken, and for a moment, he broke again in their arms. 

They held him for a long time after he finished. They held him and let him cry, warm and safe in their arms. 

“I’m sorry,” Rapunzel said softly, and there was a weight to her words that told Varian she meant more than just what had happened after he had been arrested. Varian leaned forward and took her hand, leaning into her. He had long ago forgiven her for that night. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said quietly, his voice raw with emotions. 

“It still shouldn’t have happened.” Eugene’s voice was hard when he spoke and there was a dangerous light in his eyes. 

“Maybe it should have,” Varian whispered, half hoping they didn’t hear him. That was his deepest fear, the thought that haunted him at night. That he deserved what had happened after everything he had done. 

“Don’t say that,” Rapunzel said. She gently cupped his face in her hands, lifting his chin so he looked up and her. “Don’t ever say that.” 

“The things I did…” Varian couldn’t meet her eyes. Sometimes, when he was laughing with Eugene or experimenting with Rapunzel, it felt like a distant dream, all that anger and fear and rage. The things he had done, the bonds he had broken, the people he had betrayed. 

Sometimes, it felt like only a few days since it had happened and he was starkly reminded of the monster he had become. 

“Hey,” Eugene said, rubbing a hand along Varian’s back. “Yeah, you did some bad things. But you were scared, and you were alone. I’m sorry we weren’t there for you.” 

“Eugene’s right,” Rapunzel said, and Varian looked up at her. “And whatever the case, no one should have to go through what you did.” Something in her expression hardened. “And I intend to have a long talk with my father about that.” 

Varian leaned back into her embrace, closing his eyes and for a moment, letting himself be loved. 

A soft knock on the door and the queen’s voice interrupted them. 

“Rapunzel, honey - the ambassador is nearly here, you’re needed.” 

Eugene and Rapunzel exchanged a look over Varian’s head, silent communication passing between them. 

“You should go,” Varian said before their silent conversation had finished, before Rapunzel had a chance to insist she stay. Because she would - he could see it in her eyes. She would stay because last time she hadn’t. He pushed himself up, leaving Rapunzel’s embrace a little reluctantly. “Your kingdom needs you. I’ll be alright.” 

“I’ll stay,” Eugene said quietly, laying a hand on Varian’s shoulder, and Varian couldn’t help but be a little relieved. As important as Rapunzel being there for her kingdom was, he didn’t really want to be alone at the moment. 

“Thank you,” Rapunzel said. She slipped off the bed, glancing in the mirror to check she was presentable. “And Varian,” she added as she left the room, Pascal on her shoulder. “If you ever need to talk, or even just a hug-” 

“I know. Thank you,” Varian said, smiling slightly. She returned the smile, slipping out of the room. 

Eugene slung an arm around Varian’s shoulder and the boy leaned into him, Ruddiger warm in his lap. 

“How’re feeling, kiddo?” Eugene asked quietly. 

“Honestly? Tired,” Varian admitted. “But… good. Thank you for listening.” 

“Anytime.” A long, comfortable silence filled the room, and then Eugene spoke up again. “Hey, maybe you can help me redesign the guard uniform.” 

“Huh?” Varian shifted, looking up at him. “You don’t have to-” 

“Neh, uniform’s kinda ugly anyway. Besides, blue is much more my colour.” 

“You can’t just… change the guard uniforms. For me,” Varian said, an almost laugh in his voice. Eugene gently shoved him, grinning. 

“Why not? I’m the captain of the guard now, I can do what I want.” 

“Careful you don’t abuse your power,” Varian said, shouldering him back. Eugene grinned, ruffling his hair. 

“I would never.” 

If, a few days later, a number of guards found themselves out of a job - Rick included - no one would accuse Eugene of abusing his power. 

[old-hyper-super-clover]

Trouble in Devildom Town, Part 1/3

In this short story, our dear Leviathan is back with another one of his “hey I teleport you Normies into a game world”- kinda games. What will the happen inside the world of the game “Trouble in Terrorist Town”??

This story contains two OCs/ MCs, so if you´d like to know more about the girls Violet and Clover, you can check out their character designs & descriptions on my blog :D

Hope you´ll have fun on this three-parted adventure!

 Approximate reading time: 10~15 minutes

Words: 3.156 words

 It was a calm, neat Saturday evening, when a new message hit the "House of Lamentation" group chat...

 Leviathan:

OMGGGGGG

GUYS (and girls LOL)

YOU NEED TO COME OVER TO MY ROOM ASAP

 Satan:

?

 Mammon:

To your room? Seriously?!

 Asmodeus:

I can't remember having Levi calling us over ever before... What's going on??

 Leviathan:

LESS TALKING, MORE COMING OVER.

 Lucifer:

I do hope for you this matter is worth the ruckus...

 Clover:

We'll be there in a sec!

  And so, the whole mansion's population found themselves in the third-born's room a few minutes later.

"Levi..." Being the last one to step inside the crowded room, Belphegor was rubbing his eyes in a tired manner. "Would you tell us what's going on now...?"

However, Leviathan wasn't really going to answer any of their questions.

Instead, he was prompting his guests to close the door, his gaze drifting over all of them.

Lucifer crossed his arms.

"This maniac expression on your face is highly worrying, Levi," Lucifer said.

Levi turned towards his computer, hectically mashing his keyboard, clicking on several pop-ups that appeared on his monitors, before finally turning around to properly face them.

He wore a crazy smile.

"Dammit, Levi," Mammon burst out, "I'm not in the mood for your weird shi-"

Ignoring him, Levi spoke in his best terrifying voice.

"I welcome you..."

Before anyone could react, he pressed a last key, then the monitors emitted such a strong light that all of them had to close their eyes.

  Slowly able to see again, the nine of them suddenly found themselves in a little shack.

"What... What happened...?" Violet was the first one to take a proper look around. "Where are we?!"

Leviathan's laugh pulled them out of their confusion. He spread his arms triumphantly.

"Welllcome tooo....

Trouble in Terrorist Town, the special, virtual reality but actually it's true reality -edition!!"

"Trouble in... What?" Mammon asked.

"Wait..." Clover was searching for Levi's attention. "I know this game, I've played TTT before. But why are we... really here?"

Satan shot his otaku brother a glare.

"Is this one of your real life games that you are only allowed to leave when you win??"

"Kind of," Levi laughed. "Don't worry though, if you die here, you don't die for real. You'll get kicked into a spectator lobby and we'll all respawn together once the round is over."

The oldest brother gave a stressed sigh.

"Really, now..." Lucifer rubbed his temples in distress. "Why do you always force us into playing your games without asking first...?"

"Well... I feared all of you would say no if I did" Levi responded, actually in a slightly sad tone.

When Lucifer breathed another sigh, they heard Asmo giving a weird squeal.

"Look at our outfits tho~!" he hummed.

He was standing in front of a partly broken mirror, posing while blowing his reflection some hot kisses.

"A simple black, military look, slightly armoured just at the right places... And oh my, tight clothes just show all those curves and perfections of my astonishing body..."

As he was looking around to find someone who would agree with him, his eyes landed on Clover.

"Isn't that right, darling~?"

The girl didn't even look at him.

Instead, she was staring at somebody else with a heavy blush covering her face.

"Y-yeah... Curves and... Perf... Perfection..."

Asmo wouldn't need to, but nonetheless he followed her gaze to find the sixth-born.

Of course, Beelzebub noticed this piercing glare that laid on him, but (fortunately for the girl), he was too pure to correctly interpret the thirst behind it.

"Huh? Clover? Are you not feeling well? You look like you have a fever..."

He hurried over to check that her face was truly burning hot, and of course only getting warmer now that he was this close, in this soldier like, perfect, absolutely stunning uniform that just-

"GUYS!!"

Thankfully, Leviathan saved the girl from passing out.

"The game is about to start soon and you don't even know the rules!!"

With a little frown, Violet leaned against the wooden wall that Satan was already rested against.

"So we're really going to play this crazy game...?" she mumbled so only the blond could hear.

She gained a chuckle.

"I guess so..." Satan whispered. "Although I must say, weird and extreme as they may be, but Levi's games can be quite amusing if you just go with the flow."

She mustered him, then a smile spread on her face as well.

"Well, I guess we should take all the opportunities we can to do crazy stuff while Clover and I are here in the Devildom."

Before Satan could answer, Levi threw a pebble at them.

"You listen as well, Normie!!"

Then, he finally went to explain the rules...

  "In our group of nine, there are three that are not like the rest...

They are traitors.

They work as a trio, trying to kill all the other players in order to win the game.

But who are they, you ask yourself?

Well, that is a thing only they know, and THE thing the innocent one's have to find out.

To their guidance is the almighty detective.

Unlike the traitors, the detective can, or should, reveal his role so that the remaining players, called the 'innocents', can protect him better.

Then, logically, the innocents' and detective's goal is to find the three traitors and eliminate them.

When the game starts, we may run out of this shack and will have additional two minutes to spread over the map. Keep in mind that in those two minutes it is impossible to harm your co-players, but after that, it's time for war.

The map is covered with all sorts of weapons that may help you in the epic fights we will have.

But behold!

Both, the traitors and the detective, have access to special weapon shops, where they can, any time, any place, trade achievement points for super cool, limited items to grant their victory!

On your wrists, a health bar will appear, but you can only see your own. Once your life points reach zero, you will be put into said spectator lobby and may follow the game like ghosties in the sky! Then you will also see who has which role."

 Levi took a look around after having finished.

"Any other questions?"

Belphie raised his hand.

"Do the traitors know who the other traitors are? Or can they kill each other?"

"Very good questions! They know of each other, but they may also kill each other if it gives any tactical advantages. Their goal is to have at least one traitor alive at the end of the game while the rest is dead.

Ah, I forgot to say...! If an innocent person or the detective kills another innocent one, they will die as well, as a penalty."

After a round of silence, everyone looked as if they were ready.

"Good to go?" Levi checked one last time.

Gaining nods as an answer, a big smile grew on Levi's face.

"Alright!!! Then...

Let's begin!!!"

  The players were just about all out of the shack when the game officially started.

A giant countdown manifested in the bright sky of day that, judging by the bright sunlight, must have been the sky of the human world.

Two minutes were slowly ticking down.

Levi was pointing up at the clock...

"After this preparation time starts the overall time of one hour. If that time is over, the innocents will win as well. But for every person the traitors kill, they gain five minutes to add to the counter."

... And then he pointed down on his arm.

"You should all see a role written on here. And the traitors will see two other player's names on here as well."

He gained a round of hesitant nods.

"Our player names are displayed above our heads. Be careful, they might reveal your position if you're not hiding well enough."

They heard Belphie snort with laughter.

He pointed above Mammon's head.

"'StupidMammon'? I like that name, it's better than your real one!"

"Huh?!" Mammon looked up to see it himself. "WhAT?! Levi, did you give me this shitty name AGAIN?!??"

"Lolololol, sorry Mammon, I had to."

Kind of automatically, everyone needed to check their names before doing anything else.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow.

"Most of our names are normal, though... We have Beel, Belphie, I am 'Lucifer' as usual..."

"Yep! I am Levi-chan, and the Normies are Violet-chan and Clover-chan."

"What an honour to have a naming scheme fitting your name," Violet smiled.

"Well, I felt kind today. Don't push your luck, or I'll change it into Normie #1 and Normie #2 for the next round."

O moment later, Satan gave a sigh.

"... Why am I called 'Stan'?"

Levi looked at his name.

"... Oh. Must be a typo lololol"

The others laughed a little, while the Avatar of Wrath tried to contain his displease, but out of all, Asmo seemed to find it the most amusing.

Which was weird, because he was completely ignoring the fact that his nickname wasn't normal either, but there was an extra fat "Ass-mo" written above his head...

 After a round of getting used to the sensation of being inside a video game, Violet clasped her hands to finally get things started.

"Could we get going? There's only less then a minute left before the friendly fire wears off."

Very grateful for helping to get the game going, Levi was about to dismiss everyone, when he remembered one important detail.

"WAIT!!" he screamed.

"What?! I wanna go already...!" Asmo whined.

Levi looked around.

"The most important role!! Who's the detective?!"

Everybody shot each other glances, then, finally, a little "ah!" caught their attention.

Their gazes landed on Mammon.

"There's 'detective' written on my left arm, so I guess it's me?"

"WHAT?!" Levi pressed out. "OH, MAN....! Why does it have to be MAMMON?!"

"Well, I guess the innocents are on their own, then," Satan agreed to Levi's resignation.

"With Mammon as the most powerful innocent, the traitors have a clear advantage," Lucifer agreed, too.

"Aw, maaan, and I was hoping for an exciting first round..." Asmo pouted, of course, in agreement.

The white haired male gave a growl.

"H-hey!!! Don't be like this, I'll kill those traitor bitches in no time!!"

But no one was listening.

In a collective sigh, all the others automatically started to move, not a single soul feeling the need to stick to the one person they knew was one of the good ones.

"Hey!!" Mammon called out again. "Aren't ya innocents s'posed to guard me?! Where are y'all going?!?!"

... But no one was listening.

"Grr... Just you wait...! I'll slay this game!!"

And with that, he turned to follow behind Lucifer and Violet, whining and screaming at them to wait for him, only to see how Lucifer was fastening his step.

   Walking through the deserted village and onto a wide, open area, Clover soon felt her fear of being chased kick in.

Somehow, she had ended up all by herself, but that only made stumbling about so much worse.

But now, as she turned her head to check if someone was following her, she saw how Satan had been trying to follow her in silence.

As they locked eyes, however, he greeted her with a smile and went up to her as if nothing had happened.

"... Hi," Clover mumbled carefully.

"Please don't mind my behaviour," the blond said while gesturing to continue walking together. "I still have to figure out how to properly behave in this situation. I mean, it's not every day that we suddenly face each other as maybe allies, maybe enemies... right?"

The girl shot him a sceptical glance.

"Well, that's true... But if your goal is to not appear suspicious, then... Don't to that again. Just a friendly little piece of advice."

Satan laughed.

"Yes, my apologies. You see, you have mentioned you know this game, so I found it best to stick to you."

They halted as they found a pistol laying on a boulder nearby, a package of ammunition right next to it.

Both of them were hesitating, then Satan turned around to continue.

"You take it," he said, obviously trusting that Clover wouldn't shoot his back right this instant.

Well this, or he was already bearing a weapon...

"I've seen people play this game lots," Clover continued the conversation. "I know how everything works, but I'm afraid I'm pretty bad at all the aiming stuff..."

The two reached a weird cliff that parted the land in a huge gap, no ground to be seen in the huge depths. One of those super unstable-looking wooden bridges was leading to the other side.

The platform on the other side was rather small, with only a few buildings in the middle of it.

Satan held his chin in a contemplative manner.

"I bet there must be some rare items waiting for those who would go that far and cross the bridge..."

Clover gave a nod.

"Probably... Welp, you can get the stuff, I have terrible fear of heights, so I'm not going over that wobbly bridge thingy."

The girl was about to leave again, but the male got hold of her wrist.

"No, you're coming with me."

"What?! Why?"

He searched for her eyes.

"Look. I trust that you're innocent, and I ask you to trust me, too. I could have already killed you if I wanted to, when you were all alone. But we need to work together if we want to stand a chance against the traitors and whatever special weapons they might have."

He made a little pause while the girl fought with herself to make up her mind.

"Please," he said again.

Finally, Clover gave an annoyed grunt.

"Fiiiine..." she grumbled. So, she pointed at the bridge. "But you go first... Mister Stan."

She stressed his nickname in a manner to mock him.

Satan looked at her for a moment, dazzled, then he turned around and could only give a breathy laugh.

"See, now you can be sure that I am innocent. Because if I was allowed to kill you just now, I definitely would have."

  "Oooh, Leviii!"

Asmo was nearly doing little jumps while trotting alongside the third-born. His excitement was visible, but very odd, and of course Leviathan noticed that his brother was acting strange.

"Asmo, for Lord Diavolo's sake, what's wrong with you?!"

Putting on his best puppy eyes, Asmo looked at him all innocent.

"Eeh? Shouldn't you be happy that somebody actually enjoys your weird games for once?"

Levi growled in response, moving through the deserted village with such care, as if death could be waiting behind every next corner.

... Well, it could, yes, but his super secret agent act was just... a little too much...

"Sure, but... You're almost TOO excited about this. A little shady, if you ask me... Like, out of all games, why would one where we kill each other be one to wake your interest?!"

He gained a dramatic rolling-of-eyes.

"Oh, please, Levi! It's not the killing or tactical contemplation that gets me excited... But think about the potential that this scenario bears!"

They peeked inside one of the empty houses.

There were two weapons inside, a crowbar and a shotgun without ammunition.

Breaking the nearest window, Levi climbed inside to pick them up, and was kind enough to give Asmo the crowbar even though he hasn't done anything worth gaining it (as Asmo had even been too scared to get a cut from climbing through the broken window so he didn't move an inch).

"What potential, exactly?" Levi asked, more because he felt like Asmo would pressure him into asking that anyway.

Glad that he could continue his speech, Asmo placed a dramatic hand on his forehead.

"The potential for drama, Levi!! Just imagine... us lonely wolves lumbering through the streets, and our maidens Violet and Clover shivering in fear!"

He changed his pose, wrapping his arms around himself as if hugging someone.

"Oh, whom should they trust?? Their hearts, their minds, or just nobody at all?!"

Then, he suddenly grabbed Levi by his shoulders, getting pretty close to his face.

"Love blooms in times of war, Levi! And I will take every chance I can to see those flowers in their full beauty!"

Silence.

Then, Levi gave an exhausted sigh.

"... Can you please go away...?"

And Asmo let go of him.

"Tsk. Okay, if you're not mentally able to understand the depth of my words, then I shall find a better place to fulfill my tasks...!"

  "Sooo, Beel, where you wanna go?"

The twins were already out of town, kind of heading towards the edge of a nearby forest.

The taller one seemed to be searching for something.

Then, he held his stomach.

"I'm... Hungr-"

"No, don't even say it" Belphie sighed. "Are you, really? Even inside a game?"

Beel only gave a pout, so Belphie continued after a while.

"Well, if we must secure you won't go on a rampage and destroy the whole game, then the forest might be the best place to find something for you."

And so, Belphie continued heading straight towards the green.

After a while, however, Belphie noticed how his brother wasn't following any more.

Turning around, Beel had stopped completely and was looking off into the distance behind them.

When Belphegor asked him what was wrong, the other male slowly shook his head.

"Where did everyone run off to?" Beel asked. "I can't see any of the other players..."

"Hm... I saw Violet, Lucifer and Mammon go into the forest as well... Asmo and Levi seemed to have stayed near the village... And I don't know where Satan has gone."

Now Beel turned his head.

"And Clover?"

"Uhm... She went somewhere... there, I think. I heard her talk with Levi when we left, but it seemed like she wasn't going to stay with him."

"So she's all alone right now?"

Belphie got a little confused over Beel's worried expression.

"Well, maybe. But she could be a traitor, so why are you so worried about her?"

Beelzebub's gaze drifted away again.

"I just... Don't like that thought." He snapped back at his smaller brother. "And by the way, you could be a traitor as well."

Belphie leaned back in a carefree manner.

"Yeah, but I told you I'm not. You don't believe me? I believe you're innocent, too!"

Beel gave a little sigh.

"But you can read me like a book, even if I tried lying to you..."

They kept standing there in a little silence.

Then, without further ado, Beel grabbed his brother by his arm, turned around, and kept going into a different direction.

"Beel, what are you...?! Weren't you hungry?! What about the forest??"

"... I sense food over there. Don't worry, and let's get going."

[sanoiro]

Lucifer 5x04 - The Mega Meta

This episode, the one all the cast and writers praised turned out to be the most challenging for the audience. Several hated it mainly for interrupting the flow of S5P1 whilst introducing a ‘weak’ story for Lucifer’s ring. Others loved it for all the meta, the concealed trivia and details that exist in that episode. 

In my opinion 5x04 took it’s time to warm up to my heart and therefore today it’s time to write a meta on it. I’ll try to cover all the bases and if I miss something I apologise! 

This meta will analyse, lines, settings, songs hopefully with the order they appear in the episode, as well as hints that it gives us for P2, the end of the series and many more things. 

The credits open to Lucifer whistling as per Netflix’s subtitles ‘Chattanooga Choo Choo’

A song of about a man waiting for his train as he gets a shoe shine. The lyrics reveal at the end that a girl is waiting him at his destination and that he intents to marry her and settle... A good foreshadowing about Lucifer no? Especially after the S3 game night fiasco...  

There's gonna be a certain party at the station Satin and lace, I used to call funny face She's gonna cry until I tell her that I'll never roam

By the way what’s this obsession over daggers and them killing people? Didn’t we have enough with the Flaming Sword in S2? 

Trixie: Has it ever killed anyone?

Let’s keep it that way kid... Although I doubt it. 

Now take a moment to realise that Lucifer was in Hell for thousands of years. He hasn’t had sex since his relationship with Eve and for his last night on Earth he prefers to play a game of Monopoly with Trixie and only when she turns him down Lucifer suggests getting a drink at LUX always in her company. That’s progress...

It also busts all claims of Lucifer being a sex obsessed maniac. 

The year is 1946...

WW2 is over and we find Lucifer in a new setting, a familiar one where through the episode we see that he has not just visited again but he is frequent visitor around that time. Just a few years later after all he was seen through Kinley’s photos in Nazi Germany. Now we know it was because apparently he owns a castle there, in the Austrian Alps... Not exactly in mint condition after the war though... 

By the way the castle that corresponds to that 22 bedroom description Lucifer gives is Schloss Ernegg Castle which belongs to the same family since the 17th century and it’s in great condition. Actually it operates as a hotel! 

The Hurry plays as we see Ellis strolling the WB New York area of the lot. Great old ones were shot there.. Like The Big Sleep (1946) staring Bogart and Bacall which was shot in 1944, reshot some parts in 1945 but was released after all the ‘proper’ war time movies were released first. 

A bit like this episode The Big Sleep carries ‘process of a criminal investigation, not its results’. Also around that time we have The Killers coming out, The Killers is important to mention as aside from being based on a story by Hemingway who was in Cuba in 1946 not in New York as Lucifer claims, it was directed by Robert :. Siodmak made most of the Hollywood’s noir classics and was always faithful to the doomed attraction which would always resolve to a nihilistic conclusion... (Thank you wiki! :P)

The connection to Lucifer, between the lines and the off hand comments like Hemingway is that noir films were based on the German Expressionism in cinema, and one of the most prominent figure for the US was that one German director Robert Siodmak. 

The purpose of the above information is in order to tell you that a black & whte effect and a crime story is not what makes a noir episode. The writers were faithful to the core of noir. Entrapment, flashbacks, narration. The tropes of murder, jealousy, backstabbing and crime is also there, easy to replicate after all for sure. A dead man walking and ‘selective’ amnesia is also convenient... 

Triumph and tragedy can be found and lost in the maze of the cities and in questionable establishments... Like in bars... 

Moving on!

The credits open and we listen to The Hurry Up played by The Heath And His Orchestra. Dear Heath was British not an American. A subtle nod to Ellis probably as the leading man. But here is the thing Heath was the performer not the composer of that piece. The composer was Kenny Graham (Again British) and probably that piece was written after 1958 but anyways it’s an inconsistency we (-I-) can certainly live with!

Lucifer and Lilith last meeting was at around 1770 (Marie Antoinette was born in 1755) now whether in Austria or France who knows....  I would assume that Lucifer stayed in Austria until WW2 as aside from the wars and other issues it had a great cultural field for him to explore such as literature, music and lacked the brashness of the new-founded then US (1776). 

Tiny issue here... Moctezuma (The 2nd) who Lilith claims to have met died in 1520, a bit after Cortés arrived in what we know today as Mexico so we can assume that Lilith travelled between the New World and Europe until Lucifer found her in New York in 1946. 

Lilith in a relationship with Tommy Stomponato who owned the club, she probably influenced him enough to name it ‘The Garden’ as se admits to Gertie later in the episode, she really loved that Garden hence why she took a small part of it with her. 

Now the name Tommy Stomponato is directly influenced by Johnny Stomponato part and bodyguard of the Cohen Mafia boss Mickey Cohen. Now funny thing he was stabbed by Lana Turner’s (Hollywood star) daughter Cheryl Crane... That remind us a bit of Gertie as she yes both were stabbed by a woman but both were not prosecuted. The first as Lilith didn’t want Gertie to lose the limited time she had with her husband and Cheryl because she claimed self-defense. 

The first time we see Lesley Ann as Lilith she sings ‘I want to be evil’ originally performed at the debut of Eartha Kitt and first released in 1953. It is considered brilliant for it’s feminism and ‘video clip’ starring Kitt... 

It’s a song that carries Lilith’s agony which even Eve carried. The need for freedom, the need to break the chains of what they should be and what we see that even Maze carries throughout the series. It’s a song that reaffirms that betrayal towards God, Adam and Lucifer in Maze’s case is not an act of evilness but the need of these women to re-sculpture themselves without aid or instructions. In Kitt’s case it was social conformity. Also Johnnie Ray was the ‘guy who cries’ aside from his hit song in 1951 ‘Cry’ him crying after his wedding was received with mixed feelings I believe from the press and his fans. 

Now we see that crime for Lucifer was fun and again he wanted to Laugh with Hemingway who again in 1946 was not in New York but had just starting to write his novel ‘Garden of Eden (published posthumously in 1986) and it explored the reversal of gender roles a bit like this Lucifer episode does. 

So Lucifer accepts the case of finding the ring but needs help. Jack Monroe is the one that can help him and the name is inspired probably by Iowa’s born Jack Monroe Marvel character who lived in New York, fought the Nazi (See Jack talking about the Battle of the Bulge), sidekick to Captain America - in a way - and ended up shot and killed. The character had many cliche detective phrases. But that’s mostly a likely speculation :P 

Now as Jack goes to talk to the ‘rat’ Lucifer comments on Gertie serving him a drink ‘Just what the doctor ordered’ an obvious connection to Harris playing Dr Linda. 

A nice prop is the machine gun over the bar an alleged gift from Al Capone who had been arrested 17 years earlier and died in 1947.

Thanks for listening, XOXO A. Capone

Now Lucky Larry who ends up dead is wearing an eyepatch probably a nod to another great director of noir films and of german expressionism in cinematography Fritz Lang. 

At that point we have the talk between Lucifer and Jack concerning the laters problem with his wife.  The story as everyone has noticed is a parallel with the issue that Lucifer and Chloe never begun on an equal ground. Someone had manipulated them and in both cases both parties suffered. Both men were manipulated by someone over them in hierarchy and both stood on a dilemma on how to proceed. It took Lucifer over 60 years to realise how difficult it was to leave and even then in 2x14 he returned. 

 As Jack and Lucifer get to Willy’s mansion all the paintings depict him as a great warrior in all possible eras. As Napoleon, Fritz of Austro-Hungarian Empire, Henry the 8th, Ivan, and that armour I believe it was from Carlomagne?

Also Hannibal crossing the Alps? 

The little sausages are self-explenatory for the character and perhaps the lilies in his house a connection to the episode and the P1′s plot. 

Lucifer checking the armour’s genital protector? Priceless :P As was Willy’s connection to Dan. 

Now something that always make me wonder is why Lilith calls God Adam’s father as if she never considered him her own. At the same time she gives us a big hint there. She never walked away she was ‘sent’ away. 

Gertie reveals there that her husband was wounded at the Guadalcanal campaign which ended in 1943 meaning that Bill was unresponsive for about three years at that point. The good news is that Bill seems to have been inspired by Bill Lentsch. Lentsch wrote a memoir called My Story and then adapted under the Title Hope For Wounded Warriors.

As a wounded warrior, Bill Lentsch knows the frustrating feelings of apparent helplessness and hopelessness. A sea-going Marine on the cruiser USS Vincennes at the beginning of World War II, he was a "hot shell catcher". The story of Bill's survival when the Vincennes sank is a story of miracles. In contrast, the story of his post-war rehabilitation and readjustment to civilian life, including a bad marriage {Sanoiro: At this point we have a differentiation but you never know}, contains more than its share of dark pages and the consequences of poor choices. Contemplating the option of murder, then suicide, was a vivid reality. Thankfully, the story of his later years brings hope and inspiration as Bill shares his personal journey of discovery.

Meanwhile the investigation continues.  In the apartment we see pigeon cages a rather popular hobby back then in New York and not just for the messages they transported. Also do notice the WB water tower in the back. Iconic!

Lucifer finds a cuban cigar. Romeo y Juliet. The meta here obvious bit nonetheless important to our main love story. 

With Stomponato dead we have a chance to delve a bit to Egyptian mythology. 

First the missing heart. The main organ that according to ancient Egyptians held the answer of how well you had done while you lived and what you deserved after death. It was measured and a conclusion sent you to afterlife or to damnation. 

Second the Anubis mask. He was the God of Death who oversaw the heart weighting process. The colour black symbolised the Nile’s sand and thus regeneration as the river was a symbol of life. Anubis was adopted by Isis

Third the Eye of Horus. The Eye of Horus was used as a sign of prosperity and protection, derived from the myth of Isis and Osiris. This symbol has an astonishing connection between neuroanatomical structure and function.  

That’s the basics but you can go further from there if you want to just remember that Egyptian deities hold an Ankh the symbol and work of life. 

In 504 we learn that death is final, there is no eternal life. It cannot be given as a commodity, the ring cannot help so I would focus more on the stone itself and if Lilith’s immortality is used then it will not be used as it is in my opinion but more about that later on. 

The shop sacred eye and the high priest take us back to two episodes of S1. First in 1x07 - Wingman where the high priest parallels the auctioner who was ready to sell everything of ‘supernatural’ worth knowing they were mostly garbage to make money. Second 1x12 - #TeamLucifer the satanic high priest who had said ‘-the Devil ain't gonna buy me an Aston Martin’. In 504 the High Priest wanted a Pontiac. 

Lucifer comment on Tutankhamun loving the pre-sacrificed bloody heart might have to do with the Egyptian mythology that  If a heart during the scaling was judged to be not pure, Ammit (female demon/god) would devour it, and the person undergoing judgment would not allowed to continue their afterlife journey.

One of the best lines delivered in this episode is also foreshadowing P2 in my opinion and why not some bts but not clear or definite ones. 

In the modern age, we are taught to fear death. But the ancients understood that death... is power. - High Priest (Lucifer 5x04)

It is why I always say that death is not the last frontier in our series and as such it should be taken neither as the final chapter to an individual’s story nor as irreversible (with the right collaterals always) somehow. Although you cannot cheat death forever, this is the beauty of our story. Death is valued just as much as life. 

As such as we are in the High Priest ‘office’ it is not accidental we see the Tree of Life (See my Tree of Life Meta *Here*). The designs are Celtic around the mirroring tree of Life in what we can assume is in Life and Death is as vibrant and ‘alive’ in both sides. 

1) triskelion: meaning the three legs, is an ancient pre-celtic symbol that can be traced to the bronze era. It symbolises the holy trinity in Christianism but also the inner and outer world of spirits. As you can tell it holds a variety of meanings and even if it is just there, picked in random from the WB prop house we should note that it also symbolises the trinity of life, death and rebirth as well as the trinity of the transition of womanhood. The Triple Goddess: maiden, mother and the (older?) wise woman. 

For this meta we will take the trinity of life, death and rebirth as well as elevate it to the transition of our lead characters. Chloe as a young woman, a mother and now a ‘wise’ older and more mature woman. Lucifer as the young rebel, a struggling with maturity and responsibility man and what he may become by the end of S5 without shedding any of his prior roles and identities. Only this time his identities no longer ‘stain’ him. 

2) Knotted symbol - Eternal knot: We see them in many cultures and religions in Buddhism they represent birth, death and rebirth. In the inside we see Solmon’s Knot a symbol of immortality and eternity but some also parallel it to Lover’s Knot (See True Lover’s Knot), an ancient symbol of commitment and love. From this keep the eternal part of the symbolism which is often depicted in jewish cemeteries. 

3) Celtic Cross: They are said to be based on some cases to the Egyptian Ankh (See Coptic Crosses), some also allege the design in the combination of the Christian cross and the pagan sun disk. 

4) The Celtic Tree of Life: For this I take what is written in this site

The tree represents rebirth. Trees were said to guard the land and acted as a doorway into the spirit world.

The Tree of Life connects the lower and upper worlds as its roots grow far down while its branches reach high. The tree trunk connects both of these worlds to the Earth’s plane. It was with this connection of worlds, that it was said that people are able communicate with the gods in the heavens using the Tree of Life.

Tree of Life knots symbolize the branches and roots of a tree which are woven together with no end to show how the cycle of life is continuous.

Through the second part of the episode I was always looking at Lucifer’s tie. I might be wrong but it reminded me a lot of gears, with a heart and clocks on it. Essentially the clock is ticking... in more ways that one as well as for Lilith but give me some more lines before I return to this meta point.

As Lucifer asks how humans believe her ring makes her immortal she ends her story with the line:

“I survive, and... somebody writes it on a stone tablet. You know how these things start.”

For me that was always a direct reference to the Favourite Son deal we had with the book in episode 2x17. As Lucifer said in 2x18 when Chloe asked whether his Dad said that Amenadiel was His favourite, Lucifer replies: 

In so many Sumerian words. 

Later on in S3 (3x14) Lucifer tells to Cain that Amenadiel is the favourite when he asks him as: 

But the quick version: a book said it, so it must be true.

To be honest this re-occurring mentioning makes me hold to my belief that something was translated wrong there...

As the 5x04 sceheme to get the ring back is underway Lilith looks at Jack & Shirley’s interaction which is interesting not because it’s when Lilith starts to perhaps thinking of retiring her immortality but because a very special question comes to mind. 

Michael knew the ring’s story. He claimed that he was the one who manipulated Lucifer into having his vacation, but his vacation just ‘happened’ to be at the same time Chloe was on Earth? 

Here is a speculative meta. 

Lilith asks Lucifer if he ever connected with anyone emotionally to which he replies: 

Absolutely not. It would take a literal miracle for me to want something like that, and I'm fairly certain my father's not handing those out anymore.

It makes you wonder whether Michael was around listening, planning carefully his next moves. That that’s how he knew the ring’s story, or how he may have plotted Chloe’s miraculous birth by manipulating God. 

At this point everything is possible but we should never forget that God at that point is still powerful and omniscience so Michael might be only alf of the explanation why Chloe is on Earth as a key for Michael to take down his brother and materialise his other plans. The other half is only known by God but will he be willing to share in P2 or even in S6 if he appears there? 

Lesley-Ann as Lilith starts to sing ‘Someone to Watch Over Me’ a song written over the songwritter’s (Ira Gershwin) wedding anniversary, a true love song on many levels written in 1926 and featured in the Brodway Musical ‘Hey, Kay!’. 

The musical’s plot is about an engaged womaniser falls in love with Kay and the song after lots of thought was placed to reveal to the audience of Kay’s realising that she is in love with the male lead, womaniser Jimmy. 

We will never perhaps know if by imminence to Lilith’s first song lyrics, Lilith to a point was in love with Lucifer and held on to hope until she surrendered everything for a normal life not wanting to wait for the impossible. Of course that’s just one interpretation not a hard conviction of mine. 

An analysis of the song writes: 

When first composing this piece, the Gershwin brothers tried to capture the feeling of safety (and love) that everybody longs to have. The addition of the doll (a doll was added as the listener of the song in the rehearsals and stayed in the show) only enhanced the childlike, vulnerable side of the song that was being hinted at in lyrics such as, “I’m a little lamb who’s lost in the woods.”

Although many artists sing this like a love song, its first performance, directed at a doll, gave the piece an aura of safety not usually present in romantic songs.

Perhaps that safety should be also attributed here. Lilith still has her safety still holding on to her immortality knowing though that she will surrender it. Lucifer is unaware he one day will surrender his willingly because he fell in love. 

In the end they both carry the vulnerability of needing someone to understand and love them. No matter how cynical we find both Lilith and Lucifer with his brutal Caligula orgy comments, they both crave about someone. Both have lost hope to their Shepard aka God/Dad.

 Perhaps I’m wrong on my first impression with Lilith and her affection towards Lucifer. Perhaps they both are the prodigal children, lost in the woods wishing for someone to finally take care of them but no longer hoping for one, until Lilith takes the leap. Lucifer will need almost 80 more years and Chloe Decker to let someone take care of him. 

Perhaps that’s why they do a duet on the lyrics:

Someone who'll watch over me

I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood I know I could, always be good To one who'll watch over me

And the case is back to move the episode forward and enter the present Lucifer Trixie interlude and ‘Forget it Trix. It’s Chinatown!’

That line was the most obvious one as it comes from the more recent noir movie with Bogart and Chinatown (1974).  In the movie aside from the mystery plot Evelyn - the mother eventually dies, the twist is that of an abuse which led to her daughter/sister’s birth and although that does not fit our serie’s plot the death of the main lady might. All a speculation so do not be dishearten remember all the above and this is not an S&S it’s a meta :P 

After all Lucifer’s line goes back to the complex dealings in Chinatown and how understanding something fully is not always feasible. 

Interesting is also how Lucifer shots, albeit the foot not the leg, of willy to prove Willy is not immortal. Like Chloe did to him in 1x04 and to Michael in 5x02. Jewelry is not going to save anyone. Big words but you know me. I believe in other provisions or actions even if they include the ring. 

We all die, Lily. And that's okay. Truth is... I'd rather die today trying to save the man I love... than live forever without him.

The past, the present and perhaps the future?

The case is resolved and Jack follows Shirley to Des Moines (Capital of Iowa). That’s an inner joke as Joe Henderson is from Iowa and graduated from the University of Iowa. 

Before Jack follows her remember that Shirley had asked more from him when he told her to be careful. A bit like Chloe in the evidence room in 5x08. If some have watched unconditional love then you might remember the scene where Kathy Bates tells to her husband played by Dan Aykroyd that him telling her ‘I love you was never a condition but at that point it now was. Similar to what we saw Chloe asking from Lucifer. A foreshadowing perhaps that eventually Lucifer will follow Chloe. 

Now two things. Lucifer in episode 504 prepares their game night. He is now comfortable and even enjoying their game nights, he find himself right where he wants to be without being fearful of being dull. He is a shoe and that’s fine. 

When Trixie asks Lucifer whether Jack and Shirley had a happy ending he tells her probably not as they moved to Des Moines meaning it was a boring move between New York and Iowa in general. Iowa and Des Moines have been used several times in jokes by the way due to Henderson. 

Now back to Lucifer, at that point he does not see that sometimes sacrifices that lead to ‘boring’ lives are the best outcome and happiness is not equal to excitement but he is a slowly maturing Devil... 

That part can help us to analyse the end of the story from 1946. 

Lucifer says: Once you do this, there's no going back.

This implies that whether you surrender your immortality or gain it -for the second I’m quite doubtful it can be done on the same terms - it is forever. No going back. 

Lilith’s next words reveal a broken woman who gets her Hail Mary and hopes for the best. As a parent she offered her children the best place to never realise they are lacking but Lucifer by bringing Maze to earth undid that as Maze slowly reaches her potential, learning there is a different way. God’s words echo since 3x26.

So was Lucifer a kindergarten guardian for Lilith? In a way yes but Lucifer in 5x04 understood Lilith’s logic. In their distorted image of how you can break an individual, the Lilims seemed safe from Lucifer’s and Lilith’s fates. Cast out, punished, unloved, lonely and in an unspoken despair to connect but too afraid to try again until Lilith tried again. The end of 504 showed she didn’t succeed o find what she was looking for. We have no way of knowing if we will see her again in P2 but it’s probable. 

Lilith kisses Lucifer goodbye, making me once again wonder if a part of her did had feelings for him and wishes him back to enjoy the rest of his life as if somehow she knew, although she couldn’t. 

The story ends here and perhaps the clock starts ticking for Lucifer through Michael. Perhaps the planning started with Penelope and John that were meant to be born, get married but not have children and then Chloe came along. But that’s just a theory...

And before the screen fades to dark, Lilith walks away with Lucifer standing in the middle of the street and we listen to ‘This Is Ours’ by Peter Sivo’s Band (1946-1961).

This is Ours lyrics are the words of a man which mystify me. For me it is a song that gives us a couple together after a very long time that reconnects. It was a meant to be couple but the past had to happen. He had to get married, for both of them to live apart their own lives until one day they get back together and now they can be together. There is no sadness, there is relief, contentment. 

Several say that How I Met Your Mother had an awful ending. If you have not watched it and want to please stop here but know that I believe that the ending was just right. 

In How I Met Your Mother, the lead (father) marries the mother of his children but it is revealed that she eventually dies and some years later he starts telling them a story that lasts ten years as all aspects of it in his belief is about how he met their mother. His daughter interrupts him saying that no it’s about how he met the woman he wants to be together now. They all know that the Mother was loved and was the One but in this life there is more, there are second chances because life happens and it’s not a bad thing and the time in between is as joyful as the future despite of the tragedies in between. 

So a part of me wonders if Deckerstar will go a bit through that to a point. 

Forget the past, for this is ours...

The thing is that a bittersweet ending gives as a possibility and then we are left wondering past that. 

Trixie: I bet Jack and Shirley talked the whole bus ride and fixed everything. Lucifer: Yes. Yes, perhaps they did.

After all they did move to Des Moines... After that we can only guess. 

[koukouture]

A quick rant about angels because it’s interesting as fuck

So idk why but Angelism is so interesting?? Like, I just wanted to research stuff for my story and I went down this rabbit hole analyzing the different classes and looking at what they stand for because I noticed an odd correlation between the archangels and some of the lesser named angels (because the archangels is sort of a mess) and the angel hierarchy. 

Basically the angel hierarchy goes: 

 seraphim - six winged angels and sometimes are depicted covered in eyes, they guardians of God’s throne or sometimes they help run Heaven which is confusing for reasons we will see later. Also Lucifer/Satan was one of these???

 cherubim/cherub - also six wings but they have four faces: a person, an ox, an eagle/hawk, and a lion and sometimes have eyes on their wings, they provide wisdom and I guess the represent scholars

Thrones/Ophanim - two rings nestled into each other covered in eyes, sometimes they have wings and sometimes the don’t, also they’re on fire and are said to be wheels for God/the archangels’ chariot

Dominians - they look like regular angels and give out guidance

Virtues - looks normal and they provide enlightenment. What kind I’m not sure but I’m assuming any kind of enlightenment. Also they’re angels of choice and motion, and by motion I assume that means life

Powers - they’re warrior angels and as such they wear armour 

Principalities - they wear crowns and have scepters/staffs, they are leaders/guardians and also are angels of time 

Archangels - Apparently they’re the ruling class of angels but are put close to the bottom of the hierarchy???? Idk. If they’re the ruling class than why are they at the bottom? Are the angels ranked by power or importance??? The confusing thing is this word is only used to describe Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael, fuck sometimes ONLY Michael since he’s the only one that’s called an archangel in all versions of the Bible.  It’s also really confusing as to who is an archangel and who isn’t, because how many archangels there is heavily debated. Sometimes there are three, sometimes four, and sometimes SEVEN. But even then no one is consistent and like I said before, Michael is the only one referred to as an archangel in all versions of the Bible. So this might not even be a class of angels and just a title or even ONE FUCKING PERSON but we’ll never know because even if you take all versions of the Bible into account, there aren’t enough angels to suggest that this is an entire class since each is differentiated by 1) one specific thing/set of abilities/job and 2) there are hundreds of them, and as far as I know, all of the archangels stand for something different anyways so it’s more of a title??? Anyways point is the archangels are confusing and I hate it so much and also I don’t think this should be a class if NO ONE CAN AGREE ON WHAT THE FUCK IT IS. 

Angels - run of the mill angels, they’re the “guardian angels” and messengers. Yeah. There are some angels that are named that aren't the archangels but idk what class they are so I’m going to put them here. 

.

Ok so with all that in mind, take a look at the archangels, except only four because the other three are never consistent and therefor I cannot speak for them: 

Michael - he’s the like chief angel, he’s the one in charge. It’s unclear if he replaced Lucifer/if Lucifer was an archangel but that’s not important here. Anyways, Michael is depicted as a warrior and sometimes holds a scale. As the chief angel he is obviously very close to God like the seraphims, he is a warrior and looks like the powers. Also, unrelated but I drew Michael in seventh grade for this weird saint project I had and my friend said he looked hot. Oh also, he’s associated with lighting and warriors which is really badass. In my story he’s got a saviour complex and is really serious so yeah. I find it so funny that he overlaps with figures from other religions that go against EVERYTHING he stands for and it’s so funny imagining a very serious and composed Michael loosing his shit bc he overlaps with Mr. Fucks-everything-with-a-hole-Zeus who is the cause of most problems in Greek mythology, and Thor who has no brain cells whatsoever in Norse mythology. Just Michael chewing out Zeus like “YOU CAN’T STICK YOUR DICK IN EVERYTHING AND EXPECT IT TO BE OK, NOW GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER AND SPEND TIME WITH YOUR WIFE, AND BE A PROPER LEADER WHILE YOU’RE AT IT” while Thor eats a chicken thigh in the background. (I wanna draw this now lol-) 

Gabriel - he’s a messenger, so it’s pretty obvious which class of angel he’s close to: the regular angels. Not much more to say but interestingly enough, if the only thing he does is send messages on behalf of God/Michael.  He seems really chill and does not deserve all of the shitty iterations he has in media. I’m looking at you, Constantine Gabriel. You bitch. Gabriel is the most popular for some reason bc of how he’s involved with Christmas, so most people make him out to be this warrior/corrupted angel when really he’s just a chill messenger god? Like I’m sorry are filmmakers allergic to proper research of topics they want to have their films revolve around? 

Raphael - ok before we get to his connection, I love this guy so much. He’s like the Bible’s version of Hermes (in character at least) So he’s really charismatic and funny + I love seeing similarities between religions. Also he’s bros with this human named Tobias. Anyhow, Raphael is associated with nature and life, and the colour green. The virtues also sometimes have control over the elements which are associated with nature so yeah, I’m saying he’s with the virtues. I like this guy a lot, super interesting and chill, Bible Hermes, 9/10, solid guy. 

Uriel - He. Baby. My mom was watching Lucifer and told me that he’s the youngest of the angels and idk I always think that Uriel is really young now. In my story he is the youngest of the angels so I now associate Uriel with children. But that aside, he’s actually a relentless judge so no more bby.  Seeing as he’s a judge I associate that with choice for some reason so the virtues, however he is sometimes a cherubim/seraphim so that just adds to my confusion about the archangels? 

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Lost (B.Barnes) (Pt. 2)

PART 1

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Buck having one of his triggers. Tony being Tony. Steve being Steve. Some Buck and Sam fight as per usual? 😅 But, with his favorite knife involved. Uh-oh. (Btw, I suck at action and there's probably lots of errors and such. 😢😂)

Words: 2,000+

A/N: I feel so loved by you all! THANK YOU! ENJOY THIS SECOND PART OF ‘LOST’! 

Disclaimer: GIF'S and pictures used are not mine. Only the edits are and the oneshot of course. 😉 Credits to the owners of the GIFS.

Tag list for this oneshot: @justlovelifeblog​ @wolfiegal98​ 

"H-Help..please," Dirt, grime and blood. You were covered with bits of glass that scratched your clothed body. Your suit ruined and slashed from the bombing. Everything that happened was too fast, catching you completely off guard.

"Go, Sam. I'll catch up." You shouted, running in a fast pace. Your partner, Sam Wilson flying above you. "Wha-What?!" He did a double take, and before he knew it you were gone in a flash.

"Damn it, Y/N." He uttered through the blue tooth. Flying back towards the Quinjet as he saw Natasha carrying Clint around his waist. All bloody and wounded. Sam could hear your staggering breath turn louder as you run back towards the underground compound. "What are you doing?!"

You huffed, breathing out of your mouth as you saw the little girl whom was trapped inside a small cage who was named Nadia that had a tattoo of a red octopus on her tiny, frail arm. Hydra. "Saving a little girl's childhood, Wilson!"

"Barnes is gonna kill me when you ain't here with me!"

"I can manage, Sam! I'm capable of taking care of myself!"

"Y/N--" The line was getting choppy and so was your eye vision. No. You couldn't faint right now. Not in the middle of a battle. The little girl sobbed harder when the both of you heard the earth rattle above you. "Shh, shh. Don't cry, little one. I've got you,"

"Get out--" Then the line went dead and so was your signal. You grabbed onto the little girl who was sucking her thumb, her violet eyes all red and completely swollen from crying all day.

There was something about Nadia that made you go back.

Thus, it was a huge mistake because there was only a second before the bomb went off.

"C-Cap?" You whispered so quietly that even one single word could pain you inside. Every move that you wish to do was left undone because you were wounded, weak and bleeding as you laid on the rocky ground, holding Nadia in your arms.

The kid was still alive, had a pulse but she definitely fainted from the shock and impact.

"J-James?" The tiny shake of the ground made your broken hopes heal, followed by faded foot steps which made you peacefully enter a different rialm that had Bucky, you and Nadia in it.

The snow made everything difficult for the hunt. Yet, nothing can stop Bucky Barnes when he was in the hunt for you. Especially when he knows you've been bombed and probably wounded or to make his heart shatter..you were already dead without him knowing.

"Barnes," Sam landed with a thud after the three of them did. Barnes couldn't help but scowl as he heard his voice. He was her partner. He trusted her that he'll be with her by hook or by crook but what happened? "You don't get to talk, Wilson."

Bucky unclasped the parachute and dropped it with a loud thud. The scowl turning nastier when he felt Sam walk closer to him. "I couldn't contact her--the signal's been jammed--"

"I trusted you with her, Sam!" He barked back, glaring at the Falcon with a nasty glint in his eyes. Oh, he was in rage. "Jesus Christ! I fucking trusted you with her because you've been her partner since day 1!" Bucky spat with venom in his words. Completely heedless that he was grabbing onto the body of his knife that he kept on his pocket.

Sam was unaware that he was grabbing onto his beloved knife, he was entirely focused on his fiery Steele blue eyes that suddenly turned a shade darker, in a blink of an eye, he could see that the person in front of him wasn't Bucky anymore and that made his heart skip a beat in the most frightening way.

Bucky was entirely kept uncompromised and so they didn't saw how fast he went to attack their co-Avenger, gripping him by the neck with his metal hand that made him growl as he fell on the ground with Bucky's weight on either side of him, tightly clutching onto him like a wild cat. Choking him and wanting nothing more than to stop him from breathing. The sharp tip of his knife right above his pulse, dipping it in the right amount that made it ooze blood.

It wasn't Bucky who was acting all hostile right now and they were all too shocked from the sudden change of character.

"S-Steve...N-Not--" Sam groaned, tugging onto his metal fingers wrapped around his neck. Groaning out the pain he could feel as Bucky was pressing his knife on his pulse, dripping more blood. Every second turning like he was drowning in hell because Bucky was also choking him tighter. "--B-Bucky!"

"Buck, stop!" Steve began to intervene, about to pull him away from his friend Sam but the man in front of him was faster to hit his core with his elbow, making him back away from the impact. "Damn it," Steve muttered beneath his breath and he noted how Tony finally decided to jump in and help after minutes of being awol.

"Language, Rogers." Tony spoke through the intercom, making everyone hear what he said. "Momma' will be so disappointed in you, Capsicle."

Steve could feel him get thrown on the ground, making him whimper. Bucky had him by the neck now, leaving Sam coughing out air as he tried to recover. "You're my mission,"

Tony was flying above the air, trying to search for you as well, however he got too distracted by what Bucky said because he could sense that Bucky wasn't entirely Bucky right now and it made him roll his eyes. "Oh, God. Not this again," Steve screeched from the sudden attack that Bucky did as he was his next target aside from Sam. Everybody who was in his way was like a Bull being taunted with a red cloth in front him. He was in for the kill. His fingers tightened around Steve's neck, using his legs to unstabilize Steve's right hand, pinning them on the ground with his knee that made him cry from how it was insanely twisted.

"It's amusing to watch him murder you, Cap." Tony uttered with amusement. Trying hard not to laugh out. "Damn..you..Tony! He's not...Bucky right...now!"

"I could tell," He mused, slightly chuckling as he watched the fight  from above. "Hey, Natasha--" Tony started, but was immediately cut off with a quick message as Natasha turned the intercom's after. "Not now, Tony. Get them to stop while I find Y/N." Toot.

Well, what a chirper.

Tony sighed, enthusiastically having his best hero landing beside Bucky who was planning to murder his 100 year old best friend. "Manchurian Candidate, step away from the grandpa," Iron man welcomed before he was kicked on the core, making him fly towards a dead tree.

Tony began to gather himself, standing up in a hot second like nothing happened. Guess he wouldn't turn back that easily. "Why do you always have to be so hostile, Barnes?" He asked more to himself, immediately detecting where Bucky was before he came to attack back.

Tony propelled forward till he pushed Bucky away from Steve. Bucky instantly rolled on the ground with an angry growl that made the snowy ground shake.

"Cap, will you do the honor? Or you're still going to be a little pissy because I basically ruined your moment with your best friend?"

Steve gathered himself, standing up from the ground and helping Sam go up on his feet, lending a helpful hand to pull his friend up. Tony eyed Bucky who seemed to had the 'I'm going to murder you' gaze that made him cuss in the back of his genius mind. "He's not stopping," He stated the obvious. Glancing back at Steve and Sam who were dusting the cold snow off their clothes. "Bucky, you gonna stop or??"

Apparently, Steve sounded so unamused. "He's not gonna stop, Tony."

"And you're letting him kill me next?"

Bucky was marching towards his way, grudgingly marching towards the man of Iron while stretching his metal arm that made a satisfying sound. Tony rolled his eyes, feeling the fatigue hit him hard. They were battling for days and now they didn't need another one of Bucky's triggered, Winter Soldier phases. "Christ. I'm blasting him off to bring him back,"

"Tony--" Steve started, stretching his twisted, slightly injured wrist, yet he was too late to react.

"Yep. Totally blasting him off."

He brought his armoured hands halfway, the familiar sound of his blasters turning on. "No--"

"Sleepy-bye, Barnes." His target turned red, and before Steve knew it. Tony just blasted his best friend off out in the air, making Bucky fall inside a hill full of snow that made him blackout. Well, he'll wake up any time soon. So, it was definitely not a problem.

"Yeet."

He heard a loud sigh came from Sam's place and Tony knew it was Steve and he was trying his hardest not to give him a little of his scolding. "Precautionary measures, Cap." Tony quickly saved himself from the long scolding from the famous Captain America. "Atleast, I didn't blast his robotic arm off,"

"Tony," Sam begun to start for Steve, and Tony opened his mask to see them face to face. He had a ridiculous look that made the both of them shook their heads in disappointment. "What? What was I supposed to do?!" Tony responded, pointing towards where Bucky flew and it was only a few meters away from them. "He was giving me the murder gaze!"

Steve tried to turn on his intercoms, tapping his ear as he tried calling out for Natasha. About to ask where she was because she was suddenly gone in a flash. "Nat?"

Tony decided to answer for him. "She turned the blue tooth off. Noting that I finish your kiddie games with Barnes and Noble over there." They could hear somebody's feet scratching the snowy ground, in their peripheral vision. The three Avengers could see a metal armed man lying prone on the cold, hard ground.

He stood up on his own, groaning at the same time as he grudgingly dragged his feet to where they were. A skeptical look on their heroic faces. "What the hell?" Bucky rasped, his head pounding from the fall. "What happened?"

"You were being the terminator again, Barnes." Tony answered for the three of them. "Oh, God. Was I?"

Their intercoms went static, it screeched that made the group of heroic walking testorerone wince from the sound. Something was bugging up their connection from Natasha.

"Nat?" Bucky decided to talk through the static connection, ceasing once he did.

"Winter was triggered that your princess was hurt, Barnes." Natasha breathed through the intercoms, her breathing loud before it quickly faded and turned normal. "Never worry, though." She added lightheartedly, "Cause I already have her in my arms,"

She promptly stood up from her position, as she knelt beside you a while ago. Caressing your bloody hair with pity and dread. "But she isn't in a very good condition," She spoke through the intercom, sounding like she was in a hurry.

"As well as this kid,"

Bucky's heart fell because he knew Natasha wasn't exaggerating and he'll be facing the consequences once you'll be brought back to the headquarters.

It will be one heck of a consequence that could break Bucky's healing soul.

TELL ME WHAT YA THINK ABOUT THIS ONE SHOT, TATER TOTS! THE FIRST PART IS LOCATED AT THE VERY TOP OF THIS ONE SHOT! I’VE INCLUDED THE LINK THERE! THANK YOU FOR ALL THE SUPPORT TATER TOTS!

XOXO, TATA  ❤💕