#canon typical murder

[lacefedora]

Eyes in the Dark, Devils Minion Armandaniel

for @miwadake who requested Armand stalking Daniel post turning.

sorry this one took me a little while I was away from home -

Daniel can tell he's being watched. To be fair, he could tell when he was mortal too. They were good instincts to have as a reporter. Especially in war zones and the like. But this was different. At first he just thought it was wishful thinking. Louis was fuckin' right... the bond between maker and fledgling was very real. Visceral in a way that he hadn't been expecting.. He had felt Armand's eyes boring into him before, but now, Daniel could be walking through a crowd of hundreds but he knew it was him watching. He would talk to him sometimes. He knew Armand could hear him. He never heard from him directly though. No matter what shit Daniel said to bait him. And he had said a lot of shit to bait him.

Tonight though. Tonight he saw him.

It was just his eyes at first. A flash red-orange eyes in the dark, reflecting the light like a panther's. Daniel's seen his own eyes do that as well. It's a fucking weird thing to witness in yourself... But he immediately knew it was him. He had spent a long time looks at those eyes in those weeks in Dubai. Then he sees dark curls passing by him and he turns, Armand is gone before he can turn fully. He spends the rest of the night chasing shadows, trying to catch up with him. Finally he makes himself stop, starts looking for a meal instead. He bites his tongue, wishing he could scream at Armand. Either in his head or in person. He takes a breath... He wouldn't give him the satisfaction. If he wanted to be a fucking creeper instead of talking to him that was his priority. It's simple enough to find someone to eat. Though he knows he'll have to be fast. He manages to lure his kill to an ally. He was in New York. It really shouldn't have been that easy. As he bites down he's so caught up in the euphoria of the blood on his tongue that he doesn't notices the other presence at first. There's movement and then Armand is just *there*. He's picking up Daniel's dinner's wrist and biting down on it. Daniel jolts back from his own bite when he sees him. "Holy shit man." He snaps at him. "What in the fuck, Armand?" He demands. Armand doesn't let got of his hold on the wrist. He just shifts, looking at Daniel and raising a brow as if to say 'why did you stop?'. "You... are such an asshole." Daniel says but dammit he is hungry. He leans in to drink more blood. He didn't want the fucker to keel over before he had the chance to drink his fill. Drinking from the same victim is an odd and intimate experience. Fuck Louis was right about that too. With the two of them drinking, it's a simple thing to drain him. Daniel pulls back, breathing a little heavy. His heart pounding, face flushing with the new infusion of Blood. He turns and finds Armand staring at him. Daniel stares back not sure where to start.

Armand reaches out and touches Daniel's face. His thumb swipes over Daniel's chin, then his lower lip. It takes Daniel a moment to realize Armand's gathering blood that he had spilled when he pulled back the first time. He's uncomfortably aroused when Armand licks the blood off his thumb.

"Dawn is close. Go home. I will dispose of the body." Armand tells him.

"Oh fuck no. I'm not leaving unless you swear I'll see you after I wake up. Otherwise I'm not letting you out of my fucking sight, Maker." Daniel growls. Armand looks tense at being issued an ultimatum. He would wait. Even if it meant racing the sun. He had left himself enough time to get home.

"I swear you will see me tomorrow after you wake." Armand says finally. Daniel curses softly, then nods. He steps back, heading to his apartment before dawn.

The next evening he finds no Armand in his apartment... disappointing. But he does see red-orange eyes down the ally he passes... baby steps.

[honeyjynxxed]

What Choice but Simple Duty?

Korako was there, kneeling in the entrance to the nursery. On her shoulder the white, spectral bird that haunted the streets of...His mouth swallowed around the taste of ash at even the thought of his city's false name. His hands were covered in blood, it streaked across his chest and his face in terrible splashes. Where his sword hung in his hands it dripped to the floor painfully loud amidst the silence. The Citadel had never been this quiet before. Always in some corner there was sound and life and existence.

Now the blue of it was stained red in too many places to count. Viscera and blood from not just the gods but those too who's minds had been too broken to allow to live. They who cried at the discovery of the bodies instead of cheered, they who turned on them with threats and fear and grief. In his chest Eril-Fane felt that same grief try to stir time and time again but his fury kept cutting it back each time. He couldn't afford to let a single thought stray him from his task. He raised his sword, stolen from the collection of the god king, prepared to strike the Goddess of Secrets down when she spoke, her eyes meeting his.

"The children-" She appeared to cut herself off, voice thick with her own unshed tears. "Their talents-" A man makes painful choices.

Eril-Fane's blade swung true and her head rolled into her own pleading and outstretched hands before her body slumped over. When he stepped over her body into the nursery he saw two women, nursemaids, already dead and couldn't decide if Korako had done this or not. She'd not had any blood on her hands or her clothes but that didn't mean she wasn't capable. Already several of the chil- godspawn he corrected himself lay dead in their cots. Now was the time to finish them off.

For Azareen, his beauty, what choice but simple duty? These thoughts consumed his mind but they were not enough to drown out the screams of the terrified and dying children around him. He was not the only one dirtying his hands though. They all had a past to bury in this room.

[idlingmoons]

cw: blood

hallo! i worked on this for a week because i’m silly like that. i normally don’t post this sort of stuff—my longer projects—here but i’m trying to use tumblr more, so i offer this to you :)

song is 退廃的人生讃歌 (Hymn to the Decadent Life) by ro2noki

[pnfc]

its hot when they make an au where heinz is explicitly amoral and has disregard for ppl's lives (willing to kill/kidnap) but still has the same flirty thing going on with perry. like star wars au is the best for this, juatchadoon is good too, guy has a woman and child shoved in a pit and p's just doing a big gay dance about it

[levemetal]

Local minor heavenly official ignoring instructions to not approach calamity ghost.

Day 5: Caught / Found

Ascended Yue Qingyuan and Calamity SJ! Consider this a continuation of Day 2 :) There's their happy ending, they finally meet again. Fits for both prompts tho I drew this with Found in mind.

memey extra under cut

[roseofhybrids]

FC Doll might not be as proactive with murder, but she does have all her organs intact for now

[amarriageoftrueminds]

AU Idea I had last night:

Late-Teen Will either discovering that there's been a trust fund for him all along, left by his mother on the condition that it's used for fees at a fancy boarding school, or getting into fancy boarding school for graduation year because of merit / earning a scholarship and previously-unknown legacy-association with his estranged mother's family. Getting shipped off to said prestigious boarding school but being miserable there / struggling. He's the new boy, out-performing his peers, the poorest student there by a mile and constantly bullied for that and his innate weirdness and because girls like him.

Enter: temp-professor Hannibal (27; maybe he is on sabbatical from surgeon-ing for a year, before retraining as a psychiatrist.).

He notices Will's brilliance, takes a shine to him, and becomes a sort of mentor to him. He transforms Will's nightmarish experience of school almost overnight: eating lunch with him (giving him safe place to go, or ensuring he's safe wherever he is), tutoring him, seeing off his bullies, 'discovering' grants Will can use to pay for expenses since he's a scholarship student, etc etc.

(What does Hannibal teach? Art? Anatomy? Biology, dissecting things? Temps for the Phys.Ed. teacher and kicks ass / humiliates Will's bullies in an impromptu kendo lesson??)

Essentially, he makes Will feel he has room to breathe, and might actually have a chance to make the most of this golden opportunity. Also makes him feel cool by association because Hannibal has Chosen him and all the teenage boys basically want to be Hannibal. (Also, maybe it's a co-ed school and all the cheerleaders are mooning over dreamy Hannibal.)

Canon-style totally platonic but wildly homoerotic relationship because oblivious!Will still thinks he's straight and oblivious!Hannibal thinks he's only gawping at Will's beauty because he's an aesthete. 🤦‍♀️

Meanwhile, nasty 'accidents' keep befalling the worst of Will's bullies, the cruelest/most predatory teachers, etc. and Hannibal encourages Will to listen to his 'instincts.'

Ends with Will graduating and getting into prestigious ivy league school and Hannibal promptly quitting his teaching position to go and live with Will and be his sugar-daddy through college while Hannibal re-trains in psychiatry. (Or maybe Hannibal offers to fund a gap-year so he and Will can do a Grand Tour of Europe together.)

visual inspo under the cut:

90s Mads

Oxbridge Hugh

[payasita]

Speaking of fic stuff: The Lamb and Nari wake up one morning covered in bandages, surrounded by empty bottles. They have ZERO recollection of the night before. Now what?

He awakes to a taste like bile and rust, and with one hand wrapped in at least twenty layers of gauze.

Narinder takes a second to stare at it, wiggling immobile fingers and contemplating the mechanics of sitting up with a head somehow filled with both cotton and lead. He drops the hand and decides against it, rolling over and pulling a blanket over his head. The movement does absolutely heinous things to his stomach.

A slow minute passes before he realizes he is not under a blanket at all. It's comfortable regardless, so he cannot summon the effort to care. Far softer than anything yet available in the commune. The familiar scent doesn't hurt, warm and securely claimed with his own, and indeed does a good job in blocking out the currently unmanageable stench of the outside world.

Until it's nearly pulled away from him. He clutches onto it with a hiss, and instantly regrets moving so quickly.

"Oh good, you're alive." The Lamb gives it another tug. "Give me back my fleece."

Narinder vaguely remembers having lost a battle against them while at his full divine potential. He'd even had both hands available to him and everything. He cannot truly imagine the odds are with him now.

"Thank you," they huff when he unlatches his claws. He searches for something else to cover his face while they clothe themself. His skull appears to be imploding.

"I am dying," he declares. There's a few seconds of silence. Contemplation on the Lamb's end. Abject suffering on Narinder's.

"Nope. Not sensing it."

"Your competence with the Crown is dubious at best."

"You're not dying," they assure him, lightheartedly, "It just feels like it."

He groans, rolling over and hitting himself in the face with the large gauze lump in his attempt to throw his arm over his eyes. He snarls, and begins blindly picking at it with his free claw to find the edge.

The Lamb snorts, leaning over him. They have an armful of empty bottles under an arm, and are looking infuriatingly chipper.

"How'd you go and do that to yourself?"

He glares at them, pointedly.

"I clearly cannot have done this on my own."

"What, you don't remember?"

"...No," he admits. "What happened, then?"

"Oh, hell if I know," the Lamb laughs, and is saved from having that smile shorn off their face by his vertigo alone.

They move around him and pick up another bottle, inspecting it. "I was at the same feast you were, y'know. And if you'd had all this yourself, you probably would be dead," they gesture to the bundle under their arm, already five or six strong and slipping a bit.

"... Actually, we should probably both still be dead," they tut. "I don't even know what the flock puts in this stuff, 'sides from berries. But wow, they're good at it. Hey, actually, do you think maybe we have the makings of something worth exporting to the outside world? Plimbo's always making trips back and forth to who-knows-where, I bet we could--"

"Lamb."

"Mm?"

"Your chattering is causing me physical pain."

"Oop. ...Guess I should be grateful for the divine healing factor, huh?"

Narinder ponders the irony of wishing Death incarnate to choke, and finally finishes unraveling his hand. He squints at it. He sees no damage whatsoever that might have compelled anyone to waste medical resources on him. Not a strand out of place. He inspects his claws, and finds a bit of blood under them. Odd.

"There must be, like, a dozen bottles of wine in here. Do you think I drank most of it? I remember everyone in the temple cheering when I started chugging one. ...Or, uh. Three," the Lamb recounts, setting the pile down on a nearby table. Narinder watches them, scanning down their body for any abnormalities. No claw marks or stab wounds remain, but they would be gone by now. Still. The fact that he feels metal when he pushes his hand under his pillow is probably worth noting.

"You have a basket around here?" the Lamb asks after a point, "I need somewhere to put these."

Narinder says, "I do not live here."

"...Whuh?"

"This is not my hut."

The Lamb pauses. They glance around, newly curious. Narinder grasps at the bit of metal under his pillow, and retrieves a dagger. It is smeared with blood. He eyes it, vaguely toying with the way light plays off of the dull blade.

"Did I attempt to kill you last night?" he asks idly. The Lamb looks over. They see the knife.

"...Nnnno?" They try, not even attempting to sound certain.

"I believe," Narinder mutters, hardly feeling bothered to spare the focus, "I might have killed someone."

The Lamb looks at him, having the grace to at least look troubled. Narinder, on the other hand, remains far more concerned with the roiling in his stomach.

"... Okay, wait. Wait, I think I remember-- yeah," the Lamb snaps, and points at him. "Yeah! You lost your hand privileges."

"What," Narinder says.

"Yeah! You were doing-- something," the Lamb waves off vaguely, "Yeah, I think I remember-- I had to take the claws away? I mean. That would explain the bandages?"

Narinder glances over. It certainly sounds like the sort of logic they would act upon, in the event of his own uninhibited violence.

"...So I did try and kill you, again."

"Iiii, dunno? I mean. Maybe?" Again, they don't sound remotely sure. The "divine healing factor" does not, it appears, account for episodes of alcoholic blackout. Good to know.

So, trying to kill his spouse was one possible explanation. Admittedly, it wasn't even a far-fetched one. But the ambient stench of this hut offers another.

"Lamb," Narinder sits up, winning a valiant battle with his own vertigo, "Whose shelter is this?"

The Lamb pauses. They look around again at all the bottles strewn about. They look up. At the same time they do, a droplet of blood plops onto their cheek.

"...I think his name was Bremar," the Lamb hums.

"You think?"

"I mean, the Crown can only tell me so much. 'Specially when the corpse in question has somehow been reduced to... uh... streamers."

"Ah."

"So, uh, we should--- we should go."

Narinder growls. His stomach does not agree with the prospect of standing up anytime soon.

"Ten more minutes."

"Nari," the Lamb deadpans, "You eviscerated a guy."

"...Five, then."

[lgbtlunaverse]

I have been thinking on the nature of mdzs as a deliberately vague text that leaves many things up to interpretation, and how i've slowly come to understand "up for interpretation" less as "there is One True version of this story i must find" and not even as " Everyone has a different One True Version of this story inside their head be based on their interpretations and the differences don't make one wrong and the other right" but as "There is no One True Version. Even in my own subjective interpretation of the text multiple things can be true at once" specifically, in regard to Jin Guangyao and the many things which are left up in the air as to whether he did them or not, most notably killing his son.

There's evidence for this, but it's non conclusuve (jgy saying he killed him while also saying he killed Qin Su, who very much killed herself. The speculations on how he'd have killed him being sect leader yao just saying shit. ) it is, esentially, just up in the air enough that if you decisively fall on one side of the debate is probably says more about you and your general opinion of jgy than it does about the "true" events of canon.

I have, as a proud apologist, always fallen on the "he didn't kill him but felt in some way responsible for his death." Side but recently have become more okay with the interpretation that maybe he DID kill him, and that at the very least, that when he tells Qin Su their son "needed to die" he is being genuine. Which, once you look at it beyond. "Is jgy a poor lil meow meow who it is Okay to Like or an irredeemable baby murderer" becomes both INCREDIBLY tragic and deeply interesting. Because here is a man condemned for who his parents were and who wants nothing more than to live, saying that it is possible to be so cursed by your heritage that you need to die. There is no existence for you. The exact same thing that has been said to him.

Of course being born out of wedlock to a sex worker and being a product of incest are different things, but that begs the question: where is the line? What crimes of the father can mean death for the son? How cursed can you be until your existence is so incompatible with society it is you who needs to give? And if there is... where is it? Qin su clearly thought she was past it. Was his son really past it? Is he?

[sisaloofafump]

Planning to visit Metropolis? Here's what you need to know:

Metropolis is the shining city of tomorrow, and well worth the visit. You can pick up brochures and newspapers at any street corner, or from one of our many news-kids cycling around!

Navigate around the city following the maps and history on our website! With in-depth guides to all our neighborhoods and their attractions, you'll always find something exciting to do.

In preparation for an emergency, turn on notifications for our City Alert page on Chirper. You can find this page through the red alarm buttons in our website, or through searching for @mtp.alerts online.

Pay no attention to our neighboring city, Gotham. Despite its guise as the perfect summer destination for thrill seekers and clout chasers alike, the mortality rates are high enough that our experts can guarantee you will die out there.

You may have heard influencers like those on Coast City Craniums, famous for their viral quotes: "Everyone is so scared of Gotham, like no one wants to survive anymore, man. Go on, throw me in Gotham. Watch me come out a millionaire," and "anyone who takes the grindset seriously is moving to Gotham." Words like these contribute to the misconception that Gotham is the best tourist city on the East Coast.

Rest in peace, the Coast City Craniums crew. The team at MetTravels extends our sympathies to their families. We will miss you, and hope you reunite in the afterlife with your late friends at Rogues Remember.

In any news, Metropolis is a beautiful city this time of year (and any other time too) and we cannot be more excited to welcome you to the city of tomorrow. Make sure you stop by the MetTravel booths throughout Senneville, Newtown, and the Superman Museum!

[lacefedora]

for @miwadake who requested Armand stalking Daniel post turning.

sorry this one took me a little while I was away from home -

Daniel can tell he's being watched. To be fair, he could tell when he was mortal too. They were good instincts to have as a reporter. Especially in war zones and the like. But this was different. At first he just thought it was wishful thinking. Louis was fuckin' right... the bond between maker and fledgling was very real. Visceral in a way that he hadn't been expecting.. He had felt Armand's eyes boring into him before, but now, Daniel could be walking through a crowd of hundreds but he knew it was him watching. He would talk to him sometimes. He knew Armand could hear him. He never heard from him directly though. No matter what shit Daniel said to bait him. And he had said a lot of shit to bait him.

Tonight though. Tonight he saw him.

It was just his eyes at first. A flash red-orange eyes in the dark, reflecting the light like a panther's. Daniel's seen his own eyes do that as well. It's a fucking weird thing to witness in yourself... But he immediately knew it was him. He had spent a long time looks at those eyes in those weeks in Dubai. Then he sees dark curls passing by him and he turns, Armand is gone before he can turn fully. He spends the rest of the night chasing shadows, trying to catch up with him. Finally he makes himself stop, starts looking for a meal instead. He bites his tongue, wishing he could scream at Armand. Either in his head or in person. He takes a breath... He wouldn't give him the satisfaction. If he wanted to be a fucking creeper instead of talking to him that was his priority. It's simple enough to find someone to eat. Though he knows he'll have to be fast. He manages to lure his kill to an ally. He was in New York. It really shouldn't have been that easy. As he bites down he's so caught up in the euphoria of the blood on his tongue that he doesn't notices the other presence at first. There's movement and then Armand is just *there*. He's picking up Daniel's dinner's wrist and biting down on it. Daniel jolts back from his own bite when he sees him. "Holy shit man." He snaps at him. "What in the fuck, Armand?" He demands. Armand doesn't let got of his hold on the wrist. He just shifts, looking at Daniel and raising a brow as if to say 'why did you stop?'. "You... are such an asshole." Daniel says but dammit he is hungry. He leans in to drink more blood. He didn't want the fucker to keel over before he had the chance to drink his fill. Drinking from the same victim is an odd and intimate experience. Fuck Louis was right about that too. With the two of them drinking, it's a simple thing to drain him. Daniel pulls back, breathing a little heavy. His heart pounding, face flushing with the new infusion of Blood. He turns and finds Armand staring at him. Daniel stares back not sure where to start.

Armand reaches out and touches Daniel's face. His thumb swipes over Daniel's chin, then his lower lip. It takes Daniel a moment to realize Armand's gathering blood that he had spilled when he pulled back the first time. He's uncomfortably aroused when Armand licks the blood off his thumb.

"Dawn is close. Go home. I will dispose of the body." Armand tells him.

"Oh fuck no. I'm not leaving unless you swear I'll see you after I wake up. Otherwise I'm not letting you out of my fucking sight, Maker." Daniel growls. Armand looks tense at being issued an ultimatum. He would wait. Even if it meant racing the sun. He had left himself enough time to get home.

"I swear you will see me tomorrow after you wake." Armand says finally. Daniel curses softly, then nods. He steps back, heading to his apartment before dawn.

The next evening he finds no Armand in his apartment... disappointing. But he does see red-orange eyes down the ally he passes... baby steps.

Anyone interested in sending me some AMC IWTV Devil's Minion/Armandaniel drabble prompts? Here or in my ask box is fine.

[cassiaratheslytherpuff]

Prongsfoot Week 2024 day 3

Favorite Canon/Potentially Canon moment - IE, something like Sirius comforting James after the DADA OWL and Lily’s reaction or (even though it’s platonic) the moment James asked Sirius to be Harry’s godfather.  

I think, because I am a sucker for angst, it might be Sirius's best man speech at the wedding. This all falls under potentially canon, heavy on the potentially. But I imagine Sirius was in love with James, and James loved Sirius. Because there's just no world where they don't love each other. It's just that James loved Lily too, and in the 70s/80s one of them was a more acceptable choice than the other. And it never really hit him that what he was doing with Sirius wasn't exactly fitting within the box of 'best friends'. He just loved Sirius, and that would always be true. And then his parents got sick and wanted to see him happy before they died, and James wanted to have them there for as much as possible, and he'd never questioned what his future would be and he didn't then either. He'd always known he'd marry a beautiful woman and have children to run around the house with their toy wands. And he did love Lily.

Sirius loved James in every way someone can love someone else. So it wasn't even a choice for him; if he didn't get to have James romantically he would take the pain of that rather than give up all the rest of it. He didn't tell James he would never love someone else. He didn't tell James he was in love in the first place. Instead, he encouraged James to go after Lily. Because Sirius loved James in every way someone can love someone else, and more than anything he wanted James to be safe and happy out in the sunshine. And he could only ever have the shadows with Sirius. Something hidden and shameful and illegal. And they could be best friends. Sirius loved him like that too, and it could be enough. Only, as one does, James's speech at the wedding was all about how lucky he was to be marrying his best friend and when Sirius stood up to speak not long after he could only hope everyone would believe the tears were just nostalgia and happiness for his friend.

I imagine he stood up and looked down at the man he loved, and the wife that Sirius had grown to care for. I imagine he wished them well, and meant it with his whole heart. I imagine he told stories about James asking Lily out and being turned down, about how James grew up and they actually got to know one another. I imagine he spoke about James's nerves before the first date, and didn't mention that Sirius sucked him off to soothe them. I imagine he didn't say how that was the last time they ever did anything like it, that he didn't say how much he wished the world was different and he could be the one in white. I imagine there wasn't a dry eye in the room, I imagine Sirius sighed with relief that they were all smiling too. I imagine he looked at Lily and asked her to take care of James for him. And I imagine if he'd looked at James he would have seen the heartbreak as he realised Sirius loved him in every way a person can love someone else, which James hadn't known until that very moment was even an option.

[regretfullyrave]

We cooking w this one 👀

"Never look back. 

But Uzi does, she turns on her heels to face her attacker. Just momentarily to reassess the situation, get a good sense of what she's dealing with and maybe attempt to fight back once more. Grave mistake. 

The second she does she's met with an X shining as bright as the midnight sun, reflecting off of her visor and piercing her like thousands of daggers— like the blade wings, each catching a hint of the yellow glow, warping it and distorting it in unimaginable ways, creating a complex array of light that burns a hole of terror into her core.

It's an empty second, no movement, no life, just stale existence. It lasts an eternity. "

Wc: 4377 (so far)

[averlym]

do you want to settle? or do you want to fly?

[writingsofestella]

vespera - ch. 0

Apostate!Din Djarin x Ex!Jedi!OC -(no use of Y/N Canon Divergent - some plot changed for sake of story, the razor crest lives )

tws // general canon violence, usage of blasters and weapons, mentions of death, minors DNI 18+ only, angst, mature content, more tags to be added later on

a/n: first chapter of the new story. posting this into the void and hoping someone likes it to read it. this story has been spiralling around in my brain for weeks now and i wanted to share it and get it out there. let me know what you all think, and i hope you like it.

wc: 2637

It was nice to see people celebrating. With all of the chaos in the galaxy, it was good to see celebrations of happiness, now and then. Children laughing and chasing each other, adults holding one another tightly, neighbors helping neighbors, excitedly talking and cheering.

The great stone water fountain in the middle of the small village hadn't been running for years. The marshal had seemingly had the only working fountain in the entire town in his home. Of course, he was a businessman first, and couldn't help but use that to his gain. Man had to make credits somehow, he claimed.

How ironic it was that after an anonymous tip, the people investigated the water lines that ran through the town, through the buildings, only to find that the pipes had been turned off and rerouted. The marshal, who had claimed to have his people's best interests at heart, had pled innocence.

It was also ironic how, overnight, he ghosted the town. By morning light, the great fountain in the center was bursting forth with fresh water from the underground spring. Other smaller fountains in the town were filled with water once again, restoring life to the dying town.

If someone were to be paying attention, they'd think it strange that all this seemingly happened within the few weeks after the stranger had arrived to their little town.

The hooded stranger paid them all no mind, as she stood in the shadow of an alleyway. She leaned against the cool stone wall, taking comfort in it.

The heat that bore down on the planet Utov from its' two suns was almost unbearable for her to handle, which might have been another reason the town's fountains were now back in order.

Maybe she just hated seeing old men in power.

It was all just coincidental, of course.

One of the townsfolk, a young mother with a kid on her hip, excitedly came up to her. She had a wide smile on her face, relief and joy evident on her once worn and tired features. "Fyra, isn't it amazing? We won't have to worry about water anymore!" 

Fyra smiled from under her scarf. "It is. What does the little one think?" She asked, looking from the mother to the child. 

"Oh, he's got all sorts of ideas in his head about who did it." The mother, who was named Siane, teased, lightly. 

The kid, a young boy no older than six, looked at Fyra with wide eyes and a toothy smile. "You did it, didn't you?" He loudly whispered. "They said it was a shadow in the night, that no one really saw who it was!" 

"Hush now! We don't want to be bothering our traveler with that." Siane lightly chastised, teasingly pinching the boy's ear.

He let out a whine in protest, squirming.

Fyra simply gave a tilt of her head, amused. "What a shadow that must've been then." She responded lightly, holding her fingers out and wiggling them playfully. 

The boy giggled, and reached his own little hand out for her to take. She squeezed his hand playfully, before letting it go. Fyra didn't miss the inquisitive look she received, however, from Siane.

"These kids and their imaginations." She sighed out, shaking her head, but there was a happy smile on her face. "We're going to Danthi's later to celebrate. Are you coming?" Siane asked, tilting her head slightly.

"I don't know. I might, might not." Fyra said, undecided yet. "You know I'm not one for large celebrations." She said.

Siane let out a snort, shaking her head. "Yeah, I can tell. You're over here sulking in the corner instead of coming out and celebrating with us."

"I'm not sulking, I'm in the shade." Fyra retorted, shaking her head.

Siane let out an exasperated sigh, and then shook her head. "Alright, alright. Well, if you wanna go, you know where we'll be at." She says, as her little boy starting squirming to be let down and go run around with the other children. "I'll see you later then." She said, and with a nod, was being dragged out to the crowd by her child.

Fyra let out a quiet huff, that smile still playing on her lips, as she shook her head. She slipped away from the main celebration, making her way down the alleyway. She might go get a drink later, maybe something refreshing since she felt parched already from the day.

As she walked around the corner, however, a sinking feeling filled her stomach, and the hairs on the back of her neck and her arms stood straight up. She held her breath as she slowed her steps.

Without warning, a vibrocord whip flew past her head and she swerved, just in time to avoid getting trapped in it.

The culprit of the vibrocord stepped around the corner as it whipped back to its owner. A Mandalorian, in worn, chipped armor, appeared in the shadows of the alleyway. The only thing new on him was his beskar helmet, which stared down at her, unrelenting. His fingers twitched over the blaster at his hip.

A bounty hunter.

All the way out here.

"That's a rude way to say hello." She found herself saying, body tense, ready to run.

"You're a hard woman to find." He spoke back, voice rough through the modulator in the helmet.

"Maybe that's the point."

He gave the slightest tilt of his head. "They told me not to bother speaking to you, just to bring you in." He spoke out, voice even, controlled. "But I'll offer you a deal. You can come with me peacefully, or, I can drag you, kicking and screaming."

"That's not much of a deal." She retorted back, her body tense with the adrenaline filling her to run once again. Her heart raced as she tried to will the Force to calm her, help her think rationally so she'd make it out of this alive.

"Murderers with a bounty of their head don't usually get deals at all." He retorted, taking a threatening, stalking step toward her.

She cursed internally. She thought she'd gotten far enough away to not have any bounty hunters follow her this far out.

She had thought wrong.

"How kind of you." She retorted, voice dry as she took a cautionary step backwards. "Too bad I'll have to decline your deal."

With a roll and a duck, she narrowly avoided the vibrocord whip that shot past her head. Without hesitation, she used that momentum to bolt forward. 

Right Into the busy marketplace. 

She didn't hesitate. Ducking and weaving in between people, she ignored the yells of profanity as she pushed through. She could hear his footsteps, heavy and powerful, chasing after her. The screams and yells of the people they pushed through.

She could only hope the people would slow him down enough for her to escape. She pushed herself further into the crowd, no longer pushing, blending in and moving with the crowd. 

Sharply, she turned into an alleyway, a small cantina set in the back. Making her way, briskly, past the couples lingering outside, she was quick to get inside. It took her a minute to blink, for her eyes to adjust, but she was still moving. She couldn't stop. Her heart raced, chest heaving, as she tried to keep the panic at bay.

The cantina wasn't busy, most crowds outside still in the marketplace, celebrating. There were a few people she knew inside, people she had helped, setting up for the party.

Her eyes landed on the bartender, who was hanging something up. 

Danthi, with her greying hair pulled back into a tight bun and a towel over her shoulder, immediately shot up to look at her. Her hazel eyes locked onto her.

Frya pulled down the cloth over her face. "Danthi-" She sucked in a panicked breath. 

"Oh Fyra! What's got you so panicked, you look like you've seen a ghost!" She immediately gushed out, coming down off of the ladder to her side.

"There's a Mandalorian after me." She said, trying to reign in her fear. "I don't know how he found me but-"

Danthi gently grasped her arms, standing in front of her. "Calm down, breathe." She said, voice soothing. She started to lead her behind the bar. "Hey, you two!" She yelled at the two sitting near the door. "Whoever distracts the Mandalorian gets free drinks for the next month." She barked out.

The two aliens grinned. Downed their drinks. They cracked their necks, then walked outside, casually, as if not going up to face a Mandalorian bounty hunter. 

Danthi turned back to her. "We knew this would eventually happen, right?" She said, continuing to lead her around the bar. Pushing open the half door, she led her in. 

"Yes, but I didn't think it'd happen so soon- I just came back here not that long ago." She breathed out, adrenaline pumping through her veins.

"There's a trapdoor leading to underground tunnels. Follow it, straight, 'till it dead-ends. You'll find a transport droid that'll take you to a port." She ducked under the bar, grabbing a canvas bag, giving it to her. "Take this and run." 

Fyra was overwhelmed with emotion, with information. She tried to control it, letting the Force in to try and let it wash over her again. "But what if he comes in here?" 

She gave a shrug, a grin growing on her face. "I'm not scared of any man, let alone a Mandalorian." She tucked Fyra's scarf better atop her head. "You need to go. Let this be your payment for helping us." She said. "Let us help you, just this once." 

"Danthi-" 

She pulled Fyra into a tight, quick hug, before pulling back. She pulled out the key from under the collar of her shirt, unlocking the trapdoor.

It looked dark, dimly lit.��Like a dungeon or a tomb for the dead, dust and dirt spewing out down below.

Looking back up to Danthi, she gave one more look. "Thank you." She breathed out. 

"Go. May the Force be with you." She smiled, giving one last squeeze of Fyra's arms. 

They could hear yelling outside. An argument. She could sense the rising danger just outside the cantina doors.

"Come on, Mando! Don't you ever take a day off and drink?!" 

"You think there's a living bein' under that armor or do you think he is the armor?"

The two women locked eyes again, and Danthi all but pushed her down the trapdoor. 

She landed on her feet, half stumbling, with a cloud of dust, dirt, and sand shooting up around her. Jerking her head back up, she got one last look at Danthi's confident, grinning face, before it was sealed back up.

And she was left in complete darkness.

Swallowing thickly, she took in a steadying breath. Letting it out, she reached to her side for the silver-hilted weapon she kept at her side. Her fingers ran over the worn but familiar buttons, but she did not ignite it. Instead, she reached for the flashlight she kept on her belt.

Yellow flickering light ignited in the tunnel as the flashlight came to life. It casted shadows against the walls, down the endless tunnels. Little creatures of the darkness slithered back into it, hissing and clicking noises following as they disappeared back into their darkness.

Ignoring the shiver that ran up her spine, she slid her scarf back over her face. She started walking down the tunnel, heading straight and true as Danthi told her. She tried to keep her memories in check. She was not being left behind in a tomb. She was not being abandoned by her Master. 

There was, however, someone hunting her down once more.

She could sense danger up above her and she had no doubt that it was the Mandalorian. Quickening her steps, she continued down the tunnel, trying to keep herself calm and grounded. She had to keep moving, had to keep going. 

Reaching the end of the tunnel, she heard a noise that made her heart drop to her stomach. It was the sound of flame, and then, metal melting. 

She turned off the light, sliding it back onto her holster, swift. Jumping up onto the ladder, she could hear the metal trapdoor being melted, falling away and crashing to the ground. She pushed away any and all thoughts about Danti being hurt. She couldn't. She couldn't let herself slow or let Danthi's efforts go in vain to get her out safe.

She was fine. She had to be.

Rapidly, she climbed up the ladder, using her shoulder to try and open it. "Dank ferrik!" She hissed out when it didn't budge. With a lift of her hand, she swiped it across the lock. 

A click resounded and it flung open. 

She pulled herself up and out, finding herself in another alleyway, on the outskirts of town. Heaving for air as she pulled herself up, she saw the transport droids with the sandships, hovering and waiting. 

Shoving the trapdoor back, with a loud, resounding SLAM and another flick of her wrist, it locked behind her, sealing it shut. She bolted toward the ship, not caring if anyone was out to see her frantic movements. 

She slid to a stop in front of the sandship, wide eyes, heaving chest, looking at the R2 droid in the ship.

"I need to get to the port. Now." She commanded.

It beeped in response. A question of where she wanted to go.

"Doesn't matter. Closest one. One that can get me off-planet." She retorted, hopping into the sandship, tying the bag Danthi had given her around her back and under her shoulder. 

Within seconds, she was taking off, zooming across the dry, hot desert. She felt the blaster before she heard it, the heat flying past her ear.

She gasped, ducking down immediately, head shooting back to look behind them. 

The Mandalorian had made it out, standing with a blaster in hand. A shiver raced down her spine as their gazes locked. 

He fired again, and she did not hesitate to use the Force to project an invisible shield around them. 

The droid screamed in fear and the ship dipped to the side, swerving. She slammed into the side of the ship with a forceful exhale.

She sucked in a fast breath, pain in her ribs. "It's alright!" She yelled to the little droid, breathless from the impact. "I got you, keep going!" 

The droid sped along, and she used the Force to protect them from any other blaster shots, seemingly redirecting them as they flew past them.

The Mandalorian's form, shining and reflecting the dying suns' light, stared her down, slowly lowering the blaster as he grew smaller and smaller behind her. 

She knew, without a doubt, he was not giving up. Mandalorians, as they were, never gave up, never stopped, until they were dying. This would not be the last time she saw him. She only hoped she was far enough way when she did that she could escape him again.

With the rising stars and moon above, she could only hope to the Force that she'd have the strength to keep one step ahead. That the universe would guide her where she needed to go.

As he disappeared with the town growing steadily smaller and smaller, she let the town, and its' people, go from her heart. She would hold their kindness in her chest, but she knew she probably would never be able to come back again.

The life of a Jedi in this galaxy would never be safe.

all writing is my own. please do not redistribute, repost, or share on other platforms. thank you

[flywolfwriting]

Throw Me in the Deep End Ch. 10

Lucifer drummed his fingers on the table, trying not to bounce his leg. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. He glanced over his shoulder again, searching for that familiar figure, fearing those eyes that so enraptured him. Where normally he would seek Alastor in excitement now he was terrified of discovery - and Charlie hadn’t even arrived yet.

He bit his lip.

“You came.”

He turned back around to find her standing behind the chair opposite him, arms crossed over her chest and fingers twisting in the hem of her sleeve.

Lucifer hastily stood, stepping around the table, and then aborting the attempted hug and instead pulling out her chair for her. She offered him a shy smile and sat. “Thanks,” she said.

He returned her smile, sitting back down and offering her the chocolate milkshake he’d ordered. Her face lit up and she accepted it, taking a long sip and humming her appreciation. They sat in awkward silence for a long moment before Lucifer said, “Do you… remember that night?”

Charlie’s gaze cut away.

Great job, Lucifer, he thought. Let’s just start with the worst night of your life. And hopefully the worst night of her life, because that meant Alastor wasn’t lying and she’d had a good childhood.

“Only a little,” she said. “Just bits and pieces. I remember how terrified I was, and Alastor taking me home.”

“Do you remember if she said anything to you?”

Her brow scrunched and then she shook her head. She opened her mouth, like she wanted to ask something, and then took a drink of her milkshake instead.

Lucifer had to clench his fist to avoid fidgeting again. After a moment he said, “...How do you like school?”

This seemed a topic Charlie was more comfortable with. “I haven’t been since the old schoolhouse closed down, but Rosie’s been teaching me at home. She used to be a teacher, you know, until she decided to open her boutique.”

Lucifer frowned. “You don’t go to school?”

Charlie gave him a flat look. “The only schools that have survived the depression are white only, and Alastor is not that.”

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