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whytheylosttheirminds · 5 months

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I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron

(Prologue and Chapter 1)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

Prologue

Before gold, before grams, before the gun, there was you. Back when there weren’t crosses to steal, lines to snort, cops to run from, there was you. Long summer nights on the Druthers, your mom blowing up your phone ‘cause you missed curfew again. Skipping class and riding to the beach on the back of his bike. All the way back to grade school, playing tag and pretending you were pirates. Then middle school, that kiss under the lifeguard tower, a first for both of you. In high school, the night you got back from the “character-building summer camp” you had been shipped off to and you shared your other first. When you were first together, it didn’t even hurt, but just felt like fucking finally.

He remembers it all, taking all of his strength to keep it stuffed under the surface. The coke, the violence, the drama he creates in his wake cover you up nicely, until those nights when he’s dead asleep and there you are again, leaving. When he wakes, it all comes back to him. How he sat on the curb and watched you go, bloody and hurt from the night that was your final straw. How he showed up on your doorstep the next day, like he was five-years-old again asking if you could come outside and play. How your mother told him you were gone and wouldn’t tell him where you went.

“Honey,” she said with something like pity in her voice, “Promise me, you’ll let her go, let her be happy.”

A promise he kept, until the day you rolled back into town with no warning. Your timing could not have been worse. After the summer from hell, the summer that made him a killer, he finally felt like he was in control. It wasn’t until he saw you, the only person in the world that ever really knew him, that he realized he had no idea who he was.

Chapter One

You clutched your phone tight, reading and rereading the message. One you used to get nearly every night but hadn’t seen in two long years.

party at cameron’s tonite !!

It was a group text, sent by the girl from your high school you bumped into in the grocery store earlier that day. You had been back on the island for all of an hour before inevitably seeing someone you knew. You tried to duck quickly into the cereal aisle, but she caught your eye before you could disappear, an action you were infamous for.

“Omg, we need to hang out soon!” She had said, before handing you her phone to put your new number in.

You smiled your fakest smile and said, “it’s a must!” You didn’t think either of you really meant it, but apparently she had.

There were eleven or twelve other numbers in the group text, none you had saved, but you assumed they were likely other people from your high school. She probably just added anyone in her contacts she could think of, not even stopping to realize she was inviting the Kook prince’s former princess to his party. Your relationship had been the stuff of legend on this island. Everyone had an opinion, you were practically a celebrity couple, and it was the biggest news on the island for months when you left, suddenly disappearing overnight. Some real shit must’ve gone down around here since then to make it such old news that this girl didn’t even think about it when adding you to this text.

Your heart pounding in your ears, you couldn’t believe it when you felt yourself typing out i’ll be there :)

You wore your hair down, the way you always used to have it in high school. After you left, you had cut it short, wanting to shed away as much of your old life as you could, but in the last few months you’d started to let it grow back. Now it flowed down to the middle of your back, tickling the skin of your shoulders where the thin spaghetti straps of the little dress you had on left them exposed. You let the front pieces fall around your face, a sort of curtain to keep an extra layer between you and the other partygoers.

You could not believe you were here. For real this time, not in a dream as you had been every night for two years, but really here.

As you walked down the gravel path, it all came rushing back. The smell of Rose’s garden, the distant sound of the ocean lapping against the shore, the low thud of the music echoing through the crisp evening air. How many times have you walked down this path? How many nights had you spent here, your senses filled with the glory of Tannyhill, the glory of him? And yet now it felt so heavy, the sights, sounds, smells of it all were nearly choking you. Tears welled in your eyes, but something kept your feet walking towards those grand front doors, towards him.

Four years earlier…

The glass panes of the front door are slightly blurred, only revealing the soft lighting of the grand entryway on the other side. You had crossed this threshold at least a thousand times in the ten years since your family moved to this island. Knocking felt strange, you felt so small standing here in the porch light, surrounded by moths and the thick coastal August air. An envelope, wrinkled from being opened and rifled through so many times, was clutched between your clammy hands.

A figure you couldn’t quite make out approached the door, and your heart pounded in your ears as you hoped desperately it would be him who opened the door. But it wasn’t.

“Oh, hey - I- hi, Mr. Cameron,” you stammered, ever intimidated by the island’s most powerful man.

“Y/N,” Ward nodded cordially. “It’s after 10pm.”

You smiled weakly, if you felt small before, you feel positively infantile now.

“I was just hoping I could see Rafe for like, just a second,” you pleaded, putting on your sweetest smile.

“He’s studying,” Ward said. “You can come back tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Before you could protest, the door was closed and the blurred figure retreated into the house.

Never one to give up, you stuffed the letter into the back pocket of your jeans, and stepped back from the porch, sizing up the massive house to see which rooms still had lights on. You knew the blueprint of this place by heart, checking off each family member mentally as you scanned their window for signs of life. Wheezie’s room? Dark. Sarah’s room? Dark. Rose and Ward’s room? Still lit. This would have to be a stealth mission.

You snuck around the side of the house and looked up at the last window on your list. To your excitement, the room was still lit. You saw a long shadow pass by the curtains, and you actually jumped a little from the thrill. After spending the longest summer of your life apart from the one person you wanted to spend it with, he was actually right there, just two stories off the ground.

You traveled 800 miles today, what was a few more feet? Blocking out the better judgment ringing in the back of your mind, you picked up a few pebbles from the rocky path that leads to the backyard, and started climbing the big tree that grew right up past Rafe’s balcony. How you were gonna get from the tree to the balcony? That was five-minutes-from-now-you’s problem. You chuckled to yourself as your body naturally found each branch and knot on the tree. You used to have competitions when you were kids to see who could climb this tree the fastest, and you beat Rafe everytime. You remembered the shocked look on his face the first time he saw you scurry up the tree, you were hoping for a similar level of approving surprise once you got where you were going.

Once you reached the branch directly across from Rafe’s balcony, you pulled one of the pebbles from your pocket and chucked it at his window as hard as you could.

“Shit,” you whisper-yelled as the throw fell short and the pebble dropped, loudly knocking into the first floor window below. You couldn’t afford another noise-causing miss, so you recalculated the throw and bit your lip as you lobbed the next pebble hard. It smacked into Rafe’s window with a loud TINK and you smiled in satisfaction. You waited a moment, then two, and still nothing. The shadowy figure did not return to the curtain. You only had one pebble left, and you had never been good at climbing back down this tree. Remembering the time you fell out of it onto the waiting Rafe below, and you both ended up needing stitches, your stomach twisted in fear. You took in a deep breath and held it, letting the last pebble fly. Another sharp TINK, and a moment of baited breath later, the tall shadow finally returned to the window.

Rafe opened the curtains harshly and you immediately broke into a wild smile. He looked so cute in his fitted gray t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, his normally gelled back her falling in messy pieces around his face. You held back a giggle, delighted by the completely confused look on his face as he searched out the window for the cause of the sound. He lifted the window open and examined the two pebbles that had fallen on the windowsill.

You took the opportunity to whisper a loud “psssst.” His face shot up in surprise and his eyes finally found you in the tree, just a few feet off of the balcony. Where you expected to see surprised delight on his face, you instead caught something cold and irritated.

“Y/N,” he whisper-called to you. “What are you doing?”

“I just got back, I wanted to see you!” You called to him, hoping his apparent anger was just in response to his own shock.

“I’m busy.” Rafe went to close the window and you felt your moment of opportunity slip away.

“Wait!” you stopped him. “Please don’t make me climb down. We both know it won’t end well.” You smiled a sweetly shy smile you hoped would melt his icy demeanor a bit.

He sighed and looked at you annoyed for a moment before climbing out the window, his height requiring him to duck low in order to make it through. He had grown even taller over the summer, he must have hit 6 foot by now, maybe more. Your stomach flipped as you watched his athletic frame emerge from his bedroom, now able to see how defined his arms looked in the moonlight. You’d always thought he was a cute boy, but the way he looked right now lit a fire in your belly. Then you realized what it was - while you were gone, the cute boy-next-door had become a man.

“Just reach over,” he directed you.

“I don’t think I can without falling,” you explained. “I think I’m gonna have to jump.”

“Are you stupid?” He scoffed humorlessly.

Your heart sank, the boy you left behind three months ago never would have called you stupid.

“It’ll be fine, you just have to catch me,” you explained.

He rolled his eyes and opened his arms, reaching them over the bannister of the balcony, “fine.”

The brief moment of joy you got from his submission faded fast as you made the mistake of looking down at the gap between the tree and the balcony.

“Actually…” you said, bravery fading.

“What, are you scared?” Rafe taunted.

“No!” you insisted. You smiled at him, suddenly feeling like the two of you were ten again and he was daring you to jump off the trampoline into the pool in your backyard.

Now or never. With a deep breath and a sharp yelp, you threw yourself out of the tree and towards his waiting arms on the balcony. As promised, he caught you, and pulled you quickly over the bannister. His arms wrapped around your waist, yours around his shoulders, he held you there just a few inches off the ground.

You flattened your hands against the taut muscles of his shoulders, delighting in the strong warmth of them. But before you could fully revel in the feeling of being in his arms, he released his grip on your waist and you dropped the final few inches to the ground. Rafe quickly stepped back, breaking the lock your arms had around his neck. Despite the southern summer heat, the air between you suddenly felt ice cold.

“Rafe,” you whispered, stepping towards him, but he only pulled further away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said without even looking at you.

Rafe started back towards his window, and something gave you the feeling he was not going to invite you to follow him through it.

“I need to talk to you,” you started to explain.

Rafe whipped around to face you, the way he towered over you at his new height sending goosebumps down your spine.

“Why don’t you go talk to your new boyfriend instead?” He snapped.

You were so stunned that you let out a little laugh, which only made his furrowed brow scrunch even more in anger.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“I saw the pictures your camp was posting on their website all summer. I saw you wrapped around that douchebag.”

It took a moment of confused silence for you to realize what he was talking about, when it finally dawned on you, you laughed again. He turned from you and started heading towards the window again, but you caught his arm, your hand not able to fit even halfway around it.

“No, Rafe,” you explained, “That was just Andy, one of the other campers. We were doing a trust fall exercise. He dropped me like two seconds after that!”

Despite himself, Rafe turned to look at you, eyes examining you nervously.

“Are you ok?” He asked in a small voice, wishing desperately that he didn’t care.

You smiled softly, there he was - your boy.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, showing him the small scar on your wrist. “Just a little scrape.”

A moment passed, he avoided your eyes but allowed you to step closer, your hand sliding down his arm and slipping into his, his fingers reluctantly intertwining with yours. You knew exactly what words he was struggling to find, but decided to let him get there on his own.

Finally, “Why didn’t you answer my letters?”

Your other hand reached into your back pocket and pulled out the envelope you had tucked away. You held it out to him wordlessly. He took the letter and held it to the light coming from his room, examining it with a confused look. The envelope was addressed to him at Tannyhill, from you at camp. When he finally noticed the “return to sender” label, it all clicked.

“They kept getting returned to me, I don’t know why,” you said as you squeezed his hand. “I asked to use my phone to let you know but they wouldn’t let me. I almost just snuck out of camp and came home so I could explain it to you.”

“Your mom would’ve been so mad,” he said, finally, finally smiling at you.

“Then she would’ve just taken away my phone and we’d be back where we started,” You said. “There’s like twenty more letters like that. I don’t know why they never made it to you, it’s like someone was sabotaging me.”

Rafe seemed satisfied with your explanation and the remaining bit of anger on his face melted away completely. He stuffed the letter in his pocket and suddenly threw his arms around you, lifting you in the air as you yelped in surprise, giggling as he started planting sloppy kisses all over your face and neck.

“Shhh, baby, my parents will hear you,” he whispered. “They’ve got me locked in my tower because I failed my last quiz in this fucking summer school pre-calc class.”

“Rafe!” you said in mock-scandal. “Naughty language!”

“Oh, baby, I can say way naughtier things than that,” he growled in your ear, your cheeks now burning from real-scandal.

“C’mon,” he said, setting you down and grabbing your hand, to lead you to his still-open window.

He placed his large hand on the small of your back as he helped you through the window, climbing in after you and closing it slowly so as to not make a sound.

You and Rafe had done some more-than-kissing things before, but that was the night you gave yourselves to each other completely. He held you after, softly kissing the scar on your arm from when Andy had dropped you.

“Never gonna let that Andy asshole touch you again,” he said between kisses. “He can find his own girl, you’re mine.”

You giggled and he looked up at you in confusion.

“Rafe,” you were laughing hard now. “Andy’s gay.”

He broke into a bashful grin, a quick blush of embarrassment swept across his cheeks before he grew serious again and started kissing up your arm.

“I don’t care,” he said. “They should all know - all the Andys and Jakes and Chads and whoeverthefucks,” his kisses had reached your neck, “no guy is ever gonna get to touch you like me.” He pulled back and looked into your eyes with a sincerity that squeezed your heart. “Gonna love you forever. Gonna marry you, make you a mom. Never gonna spend three months, or even three fucking days away from you again. That what you want?”

“Yes,” you breathed, meaning it with your whole being.

“Good.”

Now…

The memories flooded your brain as you opened the door and stepped into the home you used to think would be yours someday. The party was swelling, the vibe feeling so familiar and so uncomfortable at the same time.

You made your way straight to the kitchen, desperately needing a drink. Every step you took sent a memory flashing through your thoughts like a shock to your brain. You passed the living room and saw movie-nights-turned-make-out-sessions on the couch, playing mario kart with Sarah and Wheezie while Rafe laughed at your hyper-competitiveness, prom pictures in front of the fireplace. You passed the dining room and saw the first family dinner you were invited to, how you made Ward laugh with a story about fishing your own dad used to tell, how Rafe squeezed your thigh under the table in pride. You entered the kitchen and saw the time you and Rafe set off the smoke alarm trying to make pancakes, the time he lifted you onto the counter and went down on you when his family was out of town. And then, standing by the keg, you saw the girl who invited you, clearly plastered already.

“Omg!” She yelled when she saw you.

Everyone else in the large kitchen turned and looked at you. It felt dramatic, but you could swear the whole room fell silent when they saw you, a comical record scratch playing in your head.

The girl who invited you ran over to you, beer sloshing over the side of her solo cup and onto her shirt.

“I can not believe you came,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I completely forgot when I invited you, about, you know, you and-”

“Can I get one of those?” you cut her off quickly, gesturing towards her drink.

Before she could answer, a loud crash came from outside the kitchen’s open french doors. The heads that had all been watching you suddenly snapped toward the sound towards the crowded back yard. When the loud bellow of a man’s voice rang out, the people in the kitchen all ran towards the unfolding scene. You pushed through the crowd and out the doors, drawn inexplicably to the voice. Your heart dropped to your stomach when you realized why - it was Rafe.

There in the backyard, packed with drunk people and lit by string lights, Rafe stood with his fist clenched in the collar of some guy’s white button up, forcefully pulling the scared looking dude toward him while he yelled.

“I said none of that fucking cheap shit,” Rafe yelled at the guy you now realized was a cater-waiter.

“I’m sorry sir, I-” Rafe threw the man down and he fell back in the dirt.

“This isn’t some ghetto block party out in The Cut,” Rafe yelled. “Do you know who’s fucking house you’re at right now?”

The crowd around you watched, most smiling in support of the man they looked at like he was a rockstar. You cringed at the looks of admiration in their eyes and took Rafe in with your own.

He looked different, harder. His floppy blond locks had been shaved off, and he had traded old t-shirts and jeans for slacks and a polo. He was as tall and built as you remembered, but instead of it being endearing, it was just scary as he looked down at the poor server like he was gonna kill him.

Then he spat on him. He actually spat on another human being. It disgusted you in more ways than one, and you felt your heart breaking in your chest as you realized you had no idea who this man was. The boy who held you on that night four years ago and promised to be yours forever clearly didn’t live here anymore. You turned quickly and pushed back through the crowd, unable to watch another second of this sickening display of toxic masculinity.

Rafe glared down at the pogue-scum in the dirt below him, an eerily familiar feeling washed over him as something moved quickly in the corner of his eye. He turned at just the right moment to see a whip of long hair disappear through the crowd. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t possibly be. Surely, it was not you.

(chapter 2)

a/n: Hiiii this is the first fic I've posted in about 10 years!! Hope you enjoyed, forgive me if I'm rusty! More chapters to come :)

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anonymousewrites · 1 year

Text

One Hell of a Love

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Book 1:

Follows the events of Season One

Prologue: One Hell of a Meeting

Chapter One: One Hell of a Reunion

Chapter Two: One Hell of a Rat

Chapter Three: One Hell of a Fiancée

Chapter Four: One Hell of a Case

Chapter Five: One Hell of a Viscount

Chapter Six: One Hell of a Ripper

Chapter Seven: One Hell of a Reaper

Chapter Eight: One Hell of a Dog

Chapter Nine: One Hell of a Hound

Chapter Ten: One Hell of a Fair

Chapter Eleven: One Hell of a Ring

Chapter Twelve: One Hell of a Doll

Chapter Thirteen: One Hell of a Prince

Chapter Fourteen: One Hell of a Deer

Chapter Fifteen: One Hell of a Curry

Book 1.5:

Follows the non-manga-canon anime events of Season One and Season Two

Chapter One: One Hell of a Monastery

Chapter Two: One Hell of a Congregation

Chapter Three: One Hell of a Cleansing

Chapter Four: One Hell of an Arrest

Chapter Five: One Hell of a Torture

Chapter Six: One Hell of a Queen

Chapter Seven: One Hell of an Angel

Chapter Eight: One Hell of an End

Chapter Nine: One Hell of a Thief

Chapter Ten: One Hell of a Camera

Chapter Eleven: One Hell of a Train

Chapter Twelve: One Hell of a Crisis

Chapter Thirteen: One Hell of an Instrument

Chapter Fourteen: One Hell of a Dress

Chapter Fifteen: One Hell of a Ball

Chapter Sixteen: One Hell of a Dance

Chapter Seventeen: One Hell of an Order

Chapter Eighteen: One Hell of a Separation

Chapter Nineteen: One Hell of a Maze

Chapter Twenty: One Hell of a Loyalty

Book 2:

Follows the events of Book of Circus, Book of Murder, and Book of Atlantic

Chapter One: One Hell of a Circus

Chapter Two: One Hell of a Prosthesis

Chapter Three: One Hell of a Roommate

Chapter Four: One Hell of a Hallmark

Chapter Five: One Hell of a Cold

Chapter Six: One Hell of a Show

Chapter Seven: One Hell of a Fire

Chapter Eight: One Hell of a Nature

Chapter Nine: One Hell of a Banquet

Chapter Ten: One Hell of an Alibi

Chapter Eleven: One Hell of a Murder

Chapter Twelve: One Hell of a Discussion

Chapter Thirteen: One Hell of a Newcomer

Chapter Fourteen: One Hell of a Perpetrator

Chapter Fifteen: One Hell of a Reveal

Chapter Sixteen: One Hell of a Hire

Chapter Seventeen: One Hell of a Ship

Chapter Eighteen: One Hell of an Experiment

Chapter Nineteen: One Hell of a Corpse

Chapter Twenty: One Hell of a Lady

Chapter Twenty-One: One Hell of an Identity

Chapter Twenty-Two: One Hell of a Scythe

Chapter Twenty-Three: One Hell of a Past

Chapter Twenty-Four: One Hell of a Record

Chapter Twenty-Five: One Hell of a Confession

Book 3:

Follows the Events of Weston College Arc

Chapter One: One Hell of a College

Chapter Two: One Hell of an Appointment

Chapter Three: One Hell of an Investigation

Chapter Four: One Hell of a Trap

Chapter Five: One Hell of an Inquiry

Chapter Six: One Hell of an Exit

Chapter Seven: One Hell of a Celebration

Chapter Eight: One Hell of a Tournament

Chapter Nine: One Hell of a Match

Chapter Ten: One Hell of a Parade

Chapter Eleven: One Hell of a Tea

Chapter Twelve: One Hell of a Midnight

Chapter Thirteen: One Hell of an Incident

To be continued...

Specials:

General: OVA

Halloween Specials: 2023

Christmas Specials: 2023

Valentine's Day Specials: 2024

Pride Specials: 2024

Taglist:

@technikerin23

@im-making-an-effort

@izzieg3987

@jinxxangel13

@alexpangender

@otomyoli

@neenieweenie

@nex-crowley

@anxious-chick

@bellacastiel

@v1l-ismissing

@agentdedf1sh

@iamsexytrash

@oceansfloor

@sarkzjam

@temporarilyablog

@elaemae

@urlocalsabito

@roo024

@ittomain1

@whereismymonsterlover

@alythewolf

@serinity750

@cloberrii

@kniselle

@ray-rook

@yappydoo

@kitkatlover015

@snowy-violet

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hugmekenobi · 4 months

Text

S3: The Bad Batch (11)

Chapter Eleven: Point of No Return

Gif by @moonstrider9904

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: The Empire closes in on you and the Batch

Masterlist for S1 and S2

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, threats, food mentions, flash of PDA and fluff in the beginning, referenced character death, rip a certain ship :(, self-blame, brief injury mention, humour as a tool for deflection, overall angsty vibes

Word Count: 4.2K

Author's notes: Still sticking very close to the episode here but hope it's still enjoyable and episode 12 is in progress!!

Getting into the pirate’s ship had been all too easy. He wasn’t going to fail this time. CX-2 decrypted the coordinates before he put the transmission for Scorch through, “The Trandoshan’s intel paid off. I tracked the pirate and accessed her navicomputer. She tried to cover her tracks but I broke the encryption.”

“What did you find?”

“She frequented a planet in the Outer Rim. I’m headed there now to do recon.”

“Send the coordinates. I’ll have a full division on standby if you require a visual on the targets.” Scorch provided before he signed off.

CX-2 entered the coordinates for Pabu.

“That’s gotta be all of it, right?” Wrecker asked in disbelief as he saw the three of you approach and unload the next round of supplies.

“We still need to grab the rations.” Hunter told him. “Keep loading up the ship. We’ll be back.”

Wrecker groaned, “Fine. But at least bring me back an ice cone.”

“Just one?” You questioned with an enticing grin as you walked backwards away from him and the ship.

“No, no, no. You’re right! M-Make it two!” Wrecker corrected his error.

You gave a two-fingered salute in reply before you turned around and jogged to catch up with Hunter and Crosshair.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave.” Lyana said lowly as she led Omega through the Archium.

“Me too, but Hunter thinks it’s safer for everyone if we do.”

Lyana led her over to a gap in one of the ledges. “What do you think of this spot?”

“It’s perfect.” Omega said with a thankful smile.

“So, which treasures did you bring?” Lyana asked, her tone curious but respectful of what this moment meant to those that left things here and Omega would not be treated differently.

Omega tucked Lula under her arm and brought out Tech’s cracked goggles. She held them delicately in her hands as she let the memories that they brought wash over her.

“You sure you wanna leave these behind?” Lyana double checked gently.

“Pabu was the first place that felt like a home.” Omega placed both objects down with the utmost care. “This way, a piece of us is still here.”

Lyana laid a supportive hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Well, I’ll make sure these stay safe until you come back.” She looked at Omega with a new type of seriousness. “Because you will come back, right?”

“I hope so.” Omega replied, the harsh reality of the day quickly catching up to her as she realised this would be the last time she would see her for a while.

“And where are you going?” Hunter asked with a questioning smile and tilt of his head as you separated from them. “We’ve got rations to get.”

You feigned disgust at the very idea. “Hey, I have the very important ice-cone mission. I cannot be diverted with a mere ration run.” You said with a coy grin before you pressed a swift kiss to Hunter’s cheek and sauntered off with exaggerated determination.

“Get that lovesick smile of your face before I throw up.” Crosshair snickered with a roll of his eyes as he saw the way Hunter watched you go.

“Shut up.” Hunter shoved his brother’s shoulder before they carried on with their own search.

“I don’t even think there’s room on this ship for all this gear.” Wrecker complained to Gonky as he saw all that was still to be shifted and he knew there was still more to come. However, Gonky’s cheeky honks of reply were not the commiseration he was looking for. “Oh, yeah? Well, maybe I should leave you behind.” He retorted, smirking at the offended honks he got in response.

Wrecker brought more of the stuff on board, completely unaware that the proximity sensor had been flashing a half second before.

CX-2 landed the ship in the cavern and began his hunt.

Hunter paused as he heard the nervous squeaking on the island birds, their tone matching his own growing sense of unease.

“What is it?” Crosshair asked.

“Not sure, but I don’t like it.” Hunter brought out his comm. “Omega, time to go.”

Upon hearing that, you gave up your spot in line and joined up with Hunter and Crosshair. You’d make it up to Wrecker another time.

CX-2 scanned the bustling market stalls from above and that was when he caught sight of the two clones and the targets he’d been sent to acquire. He touched the control panel on his sleeve and got Scorch on his comm.

“Report.” Scorch demanded.

“I’ve got eyes on the targets.”

“Ground them and wait for the division. They must be recovered unharmed. No mistakes this time.”

“And the clones they’re with?” He asked as he saw the group of you leaving the area.

“If they get in your way, eliminate them.”

“We’re sorry to see you go, but you’re all welcome here anytime.” Shep said sincerely. “Those homes will be waiting for you when you get back.”

You bowed your head in gratitude.

“Thanks for everything, Shep.” Hunter said, shaking his hand.

Omega and Lyana shared in a hug.

“I’ll see you soon.” Lyana said as she parted from Omega.

The four of you and Batcher started to make your way back to Wrecker.

The sun had almost set by the time Wrecker finished getting the most recent batch of supplies onto the ship, but he just took relief in the fact that he wouldn’t be alone in shifting the next round of gear.

As he went to grab the last crate, he paused on the steps as he picked up on a faint but rapid series of beeps.

He recognised the sound.

He knew exactly what that meant.

He reacted quickly and with a shout, he abandoned the ship and grabbed Gonky just as the Marauder exploded, hurling both of them into the sea.

With the last of his strength, he managed to pull himself onto a piece of debris before his vision went dark.

Upon hearing the harsh echoing boom of an explosion, you all instantly ran to the edge of Upper Pabu and your heart thumped in a frantic panic as you saw the distant flames and charred remnants of what was once the Marauder.

Hunter brought out his binoculars and took in the scene. He saw Wrecker and Gonky floating in the water and felt his own panic set in at seeing his brother unconscious. He put on his helmet and started running for the docks.

You did the same with your coverings and Crosshair put on his helmet before the three of you followed close behind.

One of the locals had grabbed a boat and brought Wrecker and Gonky back to port.

You pushed your way through the crowd of people and stopped short as you saw Wrecker’s body.

Omega knelt down by Wrecker’s side. “Wrecker? Wrecker!” Omega gasped, desperately shaking his shoulders to try and rouse him but it did no good.

Your stomach dropped to your feet. It took all the training you had to not lose control upon seeing the lack of response from Wrecker. He was strong, he was always so strong. He had to be alright.

“Mox and Stak, take Wrecker to Shep’s. Deke, get Az-3 to patch him up, and fast.” Hunter ordered the regs. He needed his brother back on his feet. He needed him to be okay.

“Ships don’t just blow up. We’ve been compromised.” Crosshair realised.

Hunter turned his head from Wrecker to the sound of a deep rumbling from above and what he saw sent both a deep anger and dread through his veins. The Imperial Star Destroyer hovered above the Archium and a series of gunships swarmed down. “Everyone, get to cover!”

Amidst the crowds of panicked and screaming people, the four of you regrouped and found cover of your own.

Shep was helpless to stop the hordes stormtroopers from moving in. He could only watch in despair as his people ran in fear.

“Cut off all escape routes. Destroy any ships or sea skiffs in sight.” CX-2 ordered as he remained unphased by the chaos around him. It wouldn’t affect what he needed to achieve; it would only help.

You and Omega both paused as you saw the destruction the Empire was causing to the docks.

The only light in the night were the fires caused by the Imperial gunfire.

The only sounds the whirr of gunship and cried of fear that echoed around the island.

Kamino, the Marauder, Pabu… How many more homes was the Empire going to take from you?

From these innocent people?

And how much longer could you let it go on?

A glance down at Omega told you she was thinking similarly to you. You indicated your head back and you both joined the others in an alleyway.

“Is this our fault? Are they attacking because of us?” Omega whispered up at you as she kept Batcher calm.

You wished with every fibre of your being that you could tell her no. That they were the ones at fault but the own guilt residing in your heart made the words die before they left your lips. How could you reassure her when you couldn’t believe the words yourself? It was never meant to go this way. The very thing you had wanted to avoid had happened and now you knew there was only one real way out of it.

Hunter crouched down. “It’s the Empire’s fault. Not yours. You have to stay focused. Both of you.” He implored with a helmeted look in your direction too.

“They’re destroying all means of escape and jamming our comms.” Crosshair said as he tried his comm, but it was only static. “We have to steal one of their gunships. Once we’re out of range, we can contact Echo.”

“I’ll handle it.” Hunter said. “You three, get to Shep’s and wait with Wrecker until I signal you.”

You caught his vambrace and pulled him back to you. You pressed your forehead against his helmet.

Hunter had a distinct and sinking feeling that this was you saying goodbye, but he wasn’t going to let that be the case- this plan would work… it- it had to. “I’ll see you soon.” He said as he stepped away.

You couldn’t quite meet his helmeted gaze as you nodded before you, Omega and Batcher split from him to head to Shep’s.

Hunter gave Crosshair a last meaningful look before he went in the opposite direction.

Crosshair knew what that look meant- keep them safe. And he would do everything in his power to do that. He followed you and Omega.

“Lock down the town. Search every domicile until you find them.” CX-2 ordered the squadrons of troopers.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Shep demanded as he approached the black-armoured soldier that seemed intent on ruining the lives of so many people.

“Who are you?” CX-2 replied with equal parts disdain and curiosity.

“The mayor of this town. You’ve opened fire on my village and its people without warning and without reason. Under what pretence are you attacking?” Shep seethed.

“We’re here to collect some fugitives you’ve been harbouring.” CX-2 brought out the puck and flashed the two images.

Shep made sure to keep his true reaction at bay- he wouldn’t give you and Omega away if he could help it. “You can’t just barge in here-”

“I’ve barely done anything yet.” CX-2 interrupted coldly.

“You destroyed our docks and fishing skiffs. Our livelihood.”

“I have simply cut off their means of escape. But I can do worse. I know they are here. Until they are turned over to me, your island will burn.” CX-2 threatened as he walked away.

The path to Shep’s had been fraught with troopers and each time like this where you had to hide from the next roaming patrol only slowed things down more.

You peered round the corner of your hiding spot to see one of the villagers being forced out of her home and you heard her distressed plea.

“You can’t do this! It’s our home!”

You were fighting the urge to go out and it seemed Batcher also shared in your current sentiment as Omega was doing her best to keep the dog quiet and calm.

And the cruel reply from the trooper that you heard next only confirmed what you already dreaded.

“We know they’re here! Where are the Jedi and the girl?”

“I don’t know! I swear-”

The familiar sound of a slap made your blood boil. You went to reveal yourself to stop them but Crosshair’s hand on your arm prevented you from doing so.

Omega couldn’t hold Batcher back though. The dog snarled and charged for the soldiers before they could do anymore harm.

“Batcher can handle herself. Let’s go.” Crosshair said to you both as he made sure Omega didn’t go to follow the dog either.

You had managed to scale the wall up to Shep’s and opened the door.

“Lyana!” Omega said with a relieved gasp.

“Omega! My-My dad, he said to hide here.” Lyana said fearfully. She ran up to her friend and hugged her tight, “I’m so scared.”

“I know. I’m so sorry.” Omega replied as she parted from her.

You and Crosshair took off your coverings as you saw AZ attending to Wrecker.

“How’s Wrecker, AZ?” You asked.

“He is still unconscious, but his vitals are stable.”

You allowed yourself to feel some semblance of relief at that, but you hastily pushed it to one side as you heard another gunships sound outside.

The three of you ran back out to take in what was happening and what you saw made your chest tighten and curl your fists in rage- stormtroopers were everywhere, removing people from their homes, tossing them to the ground, arresting them. It was unnecessarily cruel, and it was all because you were still here.

Getting onto the gunship had started out as a stealth mission but quickly became one where Hunter just had to get inside without getting shot.

He’d managed to do so but the pilot was making his life extremely difficult with erratic flying designed to fling him out. He had to take a tight grasp of the handles inside to remain upright.

Something else then caught your attention as you saw the unstable and irregular flying patterns of an Imperial gunship and a whole different kind of emotion swept through you. You knew the exact cause of that particular situation, but you were not reassured by the sight in the slightest.

“Is that, Hunter?” Omega asked both you and Crosshair as she noticed the ship in the air.

“Yes.” You said through clenched teeth.

“Uh huh.” Crosshair echoed nonchalantly.

But then, something shifted, there was a blaster shot and vessel nosedived down towards the sea in a way that showed that neither Hunter nor the pilot was in charge of the ship anymore.

A strained breath caught in your throat as you watched the ship plummet into the sea. “Where- where is he?” You choked out as you saw Crosshair grab his macrobinoculars.

Crosshair scanned the water anxiously but let out a relieved sigh as he saw his brother resurface and swim for the shore. “He’s fine.”

You bent forwards as you braced your hands on the wall and let out a slow calming breath before the distant sound of comm chatter reminded you of your current situation.

“He’s safer than we are at the moment.” Crosshair hissed as the three of you retreated back inside Shep’s.

“What do we do? Troopers will be here soon.” Omega asked anxiously.

“Hunter would want us to stick to the plan.” Crosshair replied, internally scrambling to think of a way out of this.

“There’s no hiding, Crosshair. The Empire knows we’re here. They won’t stop searching until they find us!”

Whilst they were talking, you were coming up with a plan of your own. If you handed yourself in and convinced them that you’d already shipped Omega off-world, then maybe they’d leave Pabu and the rest of them alive and in peace.

You glanced between Wrecker and Lyana and the door. You took a calming breath as you came to terms with what you had to do but a squeeze of your hand brought your eyes downwards. No. You said as you saw her nod at you.

“You promised.” Omega reminded you.

This is different, Omega. It’s not a choice you should need to make. It-

“You’re going, I know you are!” Omega interrupted. “But that won’t be enough, they’re here for me too! They won’t stop and you know it. It is my choice!”

Crosshair clued in and realised what the two of you were arguing about. “Absolutely not.”

“It’s our only option, Crosshair.” You said heavily.

“What? No, it’s not. We-”

“Look at what they’ve already done.” You said, a flash of anger coming through. “We can’t let the people here suffer any more because of us. That’s why we were leaving in the first place- to avoid this. We can’t let it carry on. We just can’t.” I’m not risking anyone else. Wrecker already got hurt, I’m not risking you and I’m not risking Hunter. If I could help it, Omega wouldn’t be coming but I can’t and it kills me that I can’t, but it’s how it has to be.

Crosshair went to respond to you, but Omega got in first, “If we let them take us, it stops.” She emphasised.

Crosshair focused on the young girl, distress in his voice. “You’ll be taken back to Tantiss.”

“Exactly. We’ve been trying to find those coordinates, and nothing’s worked. But if we keep our comms on us, and turn ourselves in, you can track us to Tantiss. This is our chance. Our chance to finally rescue the clones imprisoned there.”

“No. They’ll search you and find it. It won’t work.” Crosshair argued.

“Then shoot a secondary tracker onto the ship that they take us away on.” You suggested.

“Too many unknown variables. It’s not a viable plan.”

“It’s all we’ve got.” You countered.

“And it’s our choice.” Omega reminded him again.

Crosshair looked imploringly in your direction now. “Tantiss is different. This isn’t some random Imperial that’ll take you this time. It’ll be Hemlock. Who knows what he’ll do to you there.”

You also saw a genuine fear behind his eyes, and it unnerved you. It won’t be for long, I’ll be alright. “Focus on the bigger mission, Crosshair.” You said aloud and you came to stand behind Omega and rested your hands on her shoulders.

“Yeah, we’re just a small part of it.” Omega agreed.

Crosshair found himself in a position where he was forced to reflect on that, and he had to agree with you both.

The two of you got ready to depart but you noticed the reluctance that still graced Crosshair’s face and you approached him.

“He’s going to kill me.” Crosshair said to you quietly.

So, tell him he was right that Hemlock was after me too, that outta smooth things over.

“It’s not funny.” Crosshair snapped. He didn’t want to lose you both either. Not when he knew how important you both were to Hunter, to this squad… to this family. He’d finally made ground with you, you were one of them, you always had been, and he’d welcomed that feeling again. And Omega, well, Omega had seen and been through it all with him already, he owed her much more than a half-baked rescue plan.

Yeah sorry, it’s a bad habit. You went serious again and shook your head. “He’s not going to do that, Crosshair. Six months ago, maybe he would’ve, but not now. He’s not going to lose the progress he’s built with you either, not anymore. He’ll understand.” You glanced back to Omega who was standing by the door and regret stabbed your heart over the fact that this was to be her fate too, but you also knew that she wouldn’t have it any other way. “We’re very stubborn and determined individuals.” You said fondly before you looked back at him and placed a reassuring hand on his upper arm. “Just don’t miss.” You said with a light but resigned smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

With that, you and Omega exited the hut.

You caught Omega’s shoulder just before you rounded the corner to make yourselves known. You crouched down to her eye-level. “Omega… you know if there was any other option that I could think of that would get us- particularly you- out of this, I would do it in a heartbeat.”

Omega nodded. “I know, but it’s what we have to do.” She said bravely.

Your heart broke a little bit more right then and there- this was something no kid should ever have to do, “You had to grow up far too fast.” You murmured, both with sadness and a hint of pride in your voice as you gave her a loving hug before the two of you stepped out of your hiding spot.

“Stop.”

CX-2 signalled the troopers with the flamethrowers to disengage as he heard the voice of a woman.

“We surrender.” Omega said as all eyes, both Imperial and Pabu civilians turned in your direction.

“Stay alert. I neutralised the other two clones with them, but not the third.” CX-2 advised as he approached you two.

“Take us and leave the island alone.” You said as you held your wrists out.

“The people here are innocent.” Omega did the same thing as you.

CX-2 first put the cuffs on the young girl, “Then you never should have come here in the first place.”

“I’m assuming these are the special cuffs made just for me?” You said dully as the operative attached a second pair to your wrists, and you noticed the slightly different design of them compared to Omega’s.

“Why don’t you try them and find out?”

The harsh modulated voice sent a cold shiver of fear down your spine, but you covered it up. “Nah, you seem like someone who is on top of things, so I’ll take your word for it.” You were determined to not flinch under the unwavering glare of his helmet.

“Scan them for tracking devices.” CX-2 ordered as he confiscated your knife and Jedi weapon.

As expected, the comm devices were picked up immediately.

“Give them to me.” CX-2 demanded.

You and Omega reluctantly handed them over before you were both shoved and made to walk between the squadron of troopers as they got ready to transport you off the planet.

Crosshair had watched the surrender take place and had been stealthily tracking and making his way to a vantage point where he could tag the ship that you were to be taken away on.

Hunter staggered to shore and collapsed to his hands and knees.

He felt the water seeping through the gaps in his armour, weighing him down, and it was choking him beneath his helmet.

He removed it and took a few recovering breaths before he became alert to the sound of rustling just ahead of him. He instantly got to his feet and guardedly drew his blaster as he waited for the threat to show.

But he was able to relax his stance as Batcher came into view and ran over to him with a happy bark. He bent down and rubbed her side with a slight grin before he glanced up at the Archium and the rest of the island, but he didn’t see as many ships anymore.

And the realisation at what was about to happen hit him harder than he had hit the water.

Hunter grabbed his helmet and started running back, Batcher close at his heels.

You swallowed thickly as you and Omega were marched to the docks and forced to walk past the wreckage of both the sea skiffs and the Marauder.

CX-2 tapped the band on his arm and his ship came flying to meet the three of you.

You and Omega paused before boarding but an insistent jab of the butt of the operative’s rifle prompted you both to step up.

Crosshair got into position and readied himself to take the shot when the flashlight hit him.

“Over there!”

He fired back at the small squad of troopers that had found him and dealt with them as quickly as he could, but the interruption had moved him out of the prime position.

He had to run for it.

His gait was rushed.

His aim unsteady.

But there was no more time.

The ship’s engines were powering up.

He had no choice but to fire.

The ship took off.

His tracker missed.

And he could only look on in complete and utter dismay and horror as the ship flew out of view.

“Targets acquired. Returning to base.” CX-2 transmitted before he put the ship into hyperspace.

You and Omega sat side by side on the metal floor.

Omega took off her hat and leaned against your shoulder. “We’ll have each other there.” She murmured, doing her best to keep her voice composed.

“Yeah, we’ll be okay.” You whispered back.

Next Chapter>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @arctrooper69, @dominoeffectsworld, @andreaaxy, @notgonnaedit, @nightmonkeysstuff , @jellybeanstacey0519 @callsign-denmark @allthingsimagines, @superbookishhufflepuff

#the bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #tbb s3 #hunter x reader #hunter x femalejedi!reader #hunter x fem!reader #hunter x female!reader #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #hunter tbb #hunter the bad batch #the bad batch hunter x you #hunter x y/n #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch fanfiction #friends to lovers #star wars #angst #fluff

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anotheruserwithnoname · 1 month

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Ten years of Whouffaldi

My word, where did 10 years ago?

Ten years ago on Aug. 23, the episode Deep Breath launched the remarkable era of Peter Capaldi as the Twelfth Doctor (or true Thirteenth if you want to annoy some people).

And it was the true launch of one of the most interesting romances in sci-fi (friendly reminder that Peter, Jenna Coleman, Steven Moffat, writers and directors have all in some way or another confirmed that this wasn't fans watching with "ship-coloured glasses" - it was canonical. Regardless how some fans and even media have tried - as recently as a few days ago - to pretend it didn't exist.)

I do think it was not intended. It cannot be denied that a lot of people consider there to be an age-gap limit in romances, real-life and fictional, even when both parties are consenting adults. So when Peter replaced Matt - and no one can deny Clara had the hots for Eleven because she flat out says so, several times - they obviously planned on a return to the First Doctor-Susan dynamic with Capaldi (or maybe more accurately Third Doctor-Jo Grant, since Three low-key held a flame for Jo, since Twelve would still remember how he felt as Eleven, plus Three was "Capaldi's Doctor"). But due to the fact Peter and Jenna had such intense chemistry (to this day some fans remain convinced they had a real-life romance, which is not something I ever subscribed to), coupled with the decision to shoot the first episodes of the season in order of broadcast, you can see Moffat and his writers pivoting in real time as they adjusted to the fact that - with no disrespect to Samuel Anderson - Danny Pink was never going to be the next Rory Williams. This is most in evidence with Listen defining a future for Clara and Danny that was definitively retconned by Danny's death in Dark Water.

I know the Capaldi era was not everyone's cup of tea. Season 10 in particular did not age well for me, mainly because it was clearly "one season too many" for Moffat and Capaldi himself seemed to "check out" after a fashion when it became known that the next producer wasn't planning on keeping Twelve around. And if we're going to harp about falling ratings for the show in recent years, Peter never attained the same viewership levels as Matt or David. But for me, Seasons 8 and 9 were - a few off points notwithstanding - the best of the modern era and easily rank alongside the Pertwee years as some of the best this show ever had. (I stopped watching after Season 10 - but having spoken to people whose judgement I trust, I don't think anything that followed is likely to have rendered that statement outdated.)

But I appreciated the more mature approach to the show. Yes, I know DW always was at its core a children's show - though upgraded to family show over time. But having the Doctor and Clara having a mature conversation at the diner, the Doctor inviting a villain to have a drink with him (the closest the Doctor ever got to being James Bond), Clara freaking out about being called a control freak (not to mention her perfect "Nothing is more important than my egomania!"), the fact the episode confirmed that the Doctor did look upon Clara as his girlfriend when he was Eleven, and the fact the episode walks up to ageism and pops it in the nose with Clara being upbraided by Vastra for being ageist because of Twelve no longer being the young man Clara fell for ... all these add up to a remarkable episode and likely the strongest debut story for a Doctor since Spearhead from Space.

Deep Breath also marks the last time we saw the Paternoster Gang on screen. Having praised Moffat for Whouffaldi, now time to aim some criticism his way - he set up a perfect spinoff series (Neve McIntosh is one of my favourite actresses not named Jenna Coleman) and yet never followed through. Say what one might about RTD, we'd have gotten 4 series of Vastra, Jenny and Strax had he been in charge. Big FInish doesn't count though I'm sure Neve and Dan Starkey appreciated the fact they didn't need to put on the makeup all the time! LOL

So happy 10th anniversary to Whouffaldi!

#whouffaldi #twelfth doctor #clara oswald #deep breath #whouffaldi meta

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softgaychild · 1 month

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Byler is a necessary tragedy

Like we all love our happy ending romances and stuff, but let's be realistic here. Mike loves Eleven, that's a fact within canon. We can ship other pairings all day long but the truth of the matter is that Mileven is endgame. Now Byeler was always fun to imagine, like Season 2 really sewed the seeds for that ship and Season 3's argument between Mike and Will truly cemented the latter boy's sexuality. However, Mike even until the last episode, remained the same with his heart set on Eleven. Even Will's van speech to Mike in Season 4 really just sent it home that, "Yup, this boy is in love with his straight friend." And honestly, they should kinda let that be the storyline. I was (and still am) a hardcore Byler shipper, but I'm also not delusional enough to believe that the ship that's been built up from Season 1 is gonna be sidelined and not fully realized just for another ship to take over.

Onto another point, I believe that we should have more unrequited love in shows. Like as much as I love seeing the two characters who I'm hoping get together complete each other romantically, I feel like it might be a fresh of breath air (in the sense of romantic representation) for there to be a situation where one person holds deeper feelings that the other person simply doesn't. Like I personally believe that a storyline where one character doesn't exactly get a happy romantic ending like the others because who they loved wasn't someone who loved them back in the same way would be a interesting ending to that storyline. Like, yea, not everyone gets a happy ending. Do we want Will to be happy? Absolutely, but we can be realistic about how this boy's love life is gonna go. The cards are pretty much stacked against him in this situation.

The point I was supposed to make above before a tangent grabbed hold of my keyboard is that Will having a story with unrequited love being the likely ending is more realistic to how things are irl. How many gay boys the same age as Will come out and confess their crushes to someone only to be rejected in some way? I know it happened to me, multiple times even. And honestly given that realization when watching Season 4, I realized, Will having that storyline made him more relatable than him actually getting with Mike.

So would it suck if this is the ending we get in the end? Absolutely, Imma be in my bed cryin as I watch it go down next year. But is this the most likely outcome of the story? Most definitely.

#byler #mike wheeler #will x mike #stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #stranger things 4 #mileven #shipping #unrequited love #crushes #will byers

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emilykaldwen · 3 months

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The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Nineteen

Rating: Explicit

Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

No tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

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Author's Note: It's been a really hard month, ya'll, but here we are! We made it. Agonizing over this chapter positively drove me mad, but so many thanks to @vampire-exgirlfriend and @darkwolf76 for their love, support, and eyes on this to help me feel a little less insane. Go give them both some love!

CHAPTER NINETEEN - When It's Pulling Me Under

Alicent breaks and tries to mend. Jace tries to find Helaena. A twist within the thread.

“Cassandra Baratheon has bled.”

The queen’s rooms were quiet. Rich green and black drapes hung open as wide as they could to allow the light in, but the panes were closed to the cool fall breeze. A fire crackled merrily in the hearth, dancing along the decorative stone swirls along the mantle. The usual gaggle of women that occupied the room had been absent these past few days - her court having dispersed to deal with multiple assignments for the daily running of the castle and the wedding. Alicent looked up from the parchment before her, releasing her lower lip from the intensity of her gnawing teeth. Her gaze met Lady Lysa’s from where the elder woman looked up from her own sheaf of parchment.

“I will go and speak with Lord Beesbury on these matters, Your Grace,” she said softly, rising in a whisper of apple red silk, her usual caul replaced by a barbette and veil given the cooler weather. The way the woman turned her head, reaching for her papers, reminded Alicent of her own mother in such a swift and sharply unexpected moment, that Alicent’s chest clenched and stole her breath. Lysa Fossoway was her beacon of normalcy over the past years, but she was not her mother.

How desperately she wished her mother was here. How keenly that feeling sharpened as the other woman left and Alicent remained here, alone, with Lord Larys Strong.

His firefly-handled cane thumped softly against the rich rugs scattered about her solar and he took a seat on the chaise, settling himself down like a vulture, waiting to feast. On her secrets, on her thoughts, on wherever his tightly guarded whims struck him. Yet, she had few that she could call confidant, even if she dare not call him friend.

“Good.” The snap of the wooden pen box punctuated the single word as Alicent put away her ink and tucked away the parchments that Larys so curiously watched. “Lord Borros insisted that we have this engagement sealed before the new year and the wedding.”

It felt like when Viserys dragged himself to High Tide to present himself to Lord Corlys to beg his heir’s hand in marriage for a sullied Rhaenyra . It was beneath him, it was unbecoming, and it was exactly why, Alicent felt, Lord Borros felt he could demand the way he did.

‘I am not beholden to my father’s oaths, but I will not be taken for a fool’, the man had said. No sons of his own yet, Alicent knew that it was not his fear of being taken for a fool that had brought him blustering and demanding, but the fact that his sister, his only sibling, had sons. Both, to Alicent’s knowledge, were unwed. There existed a possibility for Helaena, one she would have to revisit later.

For now, her attention focused on the fact that it appeared Borros Baratheon thought that Vhagar would be enough of a deterrent for his sister’s sons to claim the Storm Throne from his own children.

“So that is what is to be then? Aemond to the storm, to match the tempest inside of him.” Larys tilted his head in the thoughtful way he had, his hands folded along the top of his cane. “Better, maybe, than risk quenching his fire in the snows perhaps.”

Alicent furrowed her brow. “Snows?”

“Only a turn of phrase, Your Grace. There are many eligible women in the realm to tie our Prince to. The Stormlands keep him close, rather than the cliffs of Casterly Rock or even the isolated northern houses. Northern houses, such as House Karstark offer little, while Storm’s End grants you a realm. Better than his sister as well, although I have not heard Prince Aemond express those wishes in some time.”

Alicent rolled her eyes and went to pour herself some of the mulled wine from the carafe by her window. “House Karstark, or any of the other Northern Houses, would do little for Aemond.” As for Helaena, she too had noticed her son’s waning insistence over the past few months in regards to such a betrothal. She hoped that he too realized the futility of such an endeavor.

“And it isn’t as if Lord Borros could not take another wife should-”

The clatter of her goblet on the table cut off the direction of Larys’ ponderings, and she turned on him, a sick and ugly feeling in his chest. “It is unseemly to speculate or wish for such things, my Lord Confessor,” she said tightly. “My son will marry Lady Floris. Aemond will have a position and income here at court, regardless of what the future holds,” she whispered. “He will make a fine Hand.” When her father could no longer be Hand to Aegon, Aemond would be an ideal successor.

“And Daeron could serve the crown much like Ser Criston. Now everyone is taken care of.” A soft chuckle filtered into the room and sent a shiver up Alicent’s spine. “You have done well for your children, Your Grace. It is good that they at least have a mother who cares for them so.”

“Someone has to. If my son is not his father’s heir, then he should be taken care of. The realm knows too well the idleness of second sons and unhappy brothers.” She shook her head, unflinchingly meeting Larys’ disquieting gaze and the amused curl of his mouth. “If the king would not even be amenable to the idea of Aegon being his sister’s heir, then something must be done.”

A pulse of a headache thrummed behind her eye. Aemond chafed already beneath his brother, beneath the duty that had spurred him to his lessons, to his training, but she knew Aemond would want more. He hungered for more and she could not give it to him. Would her ambitious boy be content with his child married to Cassandra’s heir? ‘He would have to,’ she thought, though her fear persisted. This was the cost of duty.

“Have you only come to speak of Lady Cassandra’s state of non-pregnancy, or have you come to drop news that Helaena is with child.” The pointed non-question was sharper than she might have normally intended but the onset of having to tell Aemond, her angry, precious son, would give her a fit the way anything difficult aggravated her husband and king.

“All goes accordingly, my Queen,” Larys said, nonplussed, and if anything, the amusement was lingering there. Alicent hated the small feeling it gave her. No, not small, she realized; not small as how her father or even Viserys made her feel.

Larys made her feel trapped.

“Very good then. If there’s nothing else, Lord Larys-” The sharp, heavy knock on the door mercifully broke into the tension and Alicent could barely contain her desperate tone. “Enter!”

Gwayne was the most welcome sight behind the door, his doublet so deep green as to be almost black, the fabric of his gray shirt poking between the ties of his sleeves. The silver buttons were stamped with the High Tower and the flames atop it. The angles of his face reminded her so much of Aemond, but she could see all of her boys in that face. The sharpening of Aegon’s jaw, Daeron’s nose. Warm, brown eyes took her in before looking over her shoulder as Larys scraped his way to standing.

“Ser Gwayne,” the lord greeted and she felt, more than saw, her brother stiffen slightly. Gwayne had not been here long, but his dislike of the Master of Whispers had been a decisive one. Her brother was firm in his manner, much like their father; once lost, no good favor could be regained.

“Lord Larys. I’ve come to pull our Queen from these shady interiors to take a turn in the fresh air. I’m sure you also have much to attend to.” Not that the solar itself wasn’t brightly illuminated, stained glass windows sending streaks of colored light about the room, and Theraxis, Abby’s cat, was sprawled in a patch of warm light that the stained glass windows turned his gray fur purple and orange.

“Who would I be if I kept her Grace from spending time with her much missed brother,” Larys said, inclined slightly to Alicent. “I shall take my leave then. Good day to you both.”

As soon as the door shut, Gwayne’s blue eyes, their mother’s eyes, pinned her.

“I mislike you having private conference with that man. Where is Lady Lysa? Or Cole?”

Alicent raised an eyebrow. “You mislike.”

“I do.” He seized an apple from the basket on the table. Brown hair, once sandy blonde as Daeron’s in youth, fell into his eyes. He kept it short, as Aegon, and the sight of him had her wonder if things would be easier had her eldest looked more like her. “He is a foul man, and I do not like the way he watches you.”

She rolled her eyes at her brother’s protestation. Touched as she was by his protectiveness, it was too many years too late. “Well, Lord Larys is the Master of Whispers for a reason. There is a certain unsettling that comes with the position.”

Gwayne rolled his eyes this time and bit into the apple, the fruit crunching loudly. “I still do not like it.”

“You do not have permission to pass judgment and disapproval as you made the choice to leave.” Resentment rose ugly in her throat, her voice not her own; a fragile thing, a girlish cry. Her nails scraped along her wrist as she turned away from him to her desk, eyes unseeing as she reached for the first paper. “I had to make my own protection.”

“Ali-”

“No,” she snapped, shaking her head. “You left.” Then I lost Rhaenyra. “And do not claim it was your injury. You couldn’t wait to flee back to Uncle Rodrik. How sad it must have been for you to instead be sent back to the Tower.” Instead of staying there, with her, so she would not be alone, so their father would not be so bold as to push and press and bear down upon her. Bitterness dripped from her voice and the sound of tearing filled her ears. Alicent looked down to see how she’d torn the acceptance from Dragonstone for their presence at the wedding.

She felt like she would be sick.

A strange sound escaped her throat. It sounded like a growl or a wounded whine. Alicent could not be certain. What she was certain of was Gwayne’s arms wrapping around her from behind, holding her bones together as she felt like she would shatter. Her brother said nothing and for that she was grateful.

Fear tangled between her ribs, pulling them apart and compressing them just as tightly so she felt like she couldn’t breathe no matter what. Gwayne held her tightly, held her bones together, kept her body from bursting into a thousand shards. She gasped for air, tears hot in her eyes but refusing to fall. At some point, they ended up on the floor, the deep green of her skirts pooled around them as she leaned into her brother and he rocked her much as he did when she was young, when they would play knights and dragonriders in the gardens, when mother was there, and she’d fall and scrape her knee, or he had whacked her too hard with the stick, or Rhaenyra was angry when her moods got the better of her.

“I’m sorry,” Gwayne said softly, so softly she could barely hear it and her nails bit into the thick fabric of his doublet.

“You could have stayed,” she cried, her fist hitting his bicep. “You could have stayed, I needed you!” Her brother had nothing to say to that, he only squeezed her tighter as she finally wept, her fears tumbling out of her. “Why did he do this to me if they do not matter to him? They’re his blood too and he never cared, he never cared. He begged for sons! He begged for them and I gave him sons and it didn’t matter so what was it for?”

Alicent wept bitter tears, pushing and biting her fingers into her brother, who sat there, quiet and unmoving as she tore into him. The months, the years bubbled up in her, all the shattered dreams and the fear and the confusion, the immeasurable pain that had stripped away everything inside of her until she was whatever she was now, a stranger to herself. “They’ll kill them, Daemon or whomever seeks to curry favor with Rhaneyra, and he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care and they treat me as if I’m mad.”

She wasn’t mad. She knew that she wasn’t, everyone knew that she wasn’t, but much like the king never put Lord Corlys in his place all the times the man stormed out of the Small Council, Daemon perched as a vulture on Dragonstone for months without recourse until he stole an egg, Rhaenyra escaping recourse and being covered for her indiscretions. Had Alicent’s own children be fathered by Ser Criston, to pass off as trueborn children, her own fate would not be so kind.

Why had no one sought to protect her, the way the king, mercurial in his affections towards his eldest child to begin with, still protected Rhaenyra?

Alicent did not know how long they sat there, the gasping and the tears, the undulating pressure around her middle ebbing and increasing until it finally started to fade. Gwayne’s hand slowly stroked her back in soothing motions, his cheek resting upon her head. As the silence grew and her sobbing eased, her brother finally spoke.

“I’m here now,” he said. “And if you wish me to stay with you instead of accompanying the boys to Harrenhal, I will.”

She shook her head. “Aegon will need you. Guide him, help him. He’s doing so well, I’m so afraid that he will slip…”

“You are afraid of everything, aren’t you?”

Alicent scoffed, wet and stuffy nosed. “I am being realistic. I need someone there who will tell me if I need to intervene-”

“Alicent.” Gwayne shifted, his voice sharp enough to draw her attention and she looked up at her brother, meeting his blue eyes with her own brown. Gwayne had their mother’s eyes, the Reyne eyes. Would her grandchildren hold those eyes as well? Or would Aegon’s Valryian gaze overpower them? “Let him grow. Let him have a chance away from here.”

“And if something happens to him?” Her lower lip trembled and she bit down on it so hard it hurt. Her brother’s mouth twitched in a smile. Sad, fond.

“He cannot thrive if you are tangled around him like a choke vine.”

“And what of father?” she whispered, harsh and unnerved.

“I’ll handle father,” Gwayne reassured, or attempted to do so, but Alicent felt the fear pulse inside of her, the uncertainty at what felt like a foolish promise. His eyes searched her face for several moments and Alicent, unnerved, reached up to wipe her eyes with her handkerchief and tried to gather her wits. “Alicent? Do… do you want your son to be king?”

Alicent’s heartbeat thundered in her ears and she pulled back from her brother to stare at him. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out and she shut it with a click of her teeth that longed to nash and rend those around her. A fresh wave of tears burned in her eyes but did not fall this time. She pressed her handkerchief into her eyes, took a deep breath, and felt in her bones.

“Aegon may not want it, but it is the only way to protect us. Viserys will not. Rhaenyra will not. I tried. I did, and I never thought she would hurt the children but…” Alicent shook her head, the fear still there, still acrid and painful. “Her callous disregard of my son, her brother’s maiming. And what they did to Laenor?” Her voice was a whisper, the fear, the shock of it that still stuck with her. “It was Daemon, to be sure, but Rhaenyra knew. And it’s that which terrifies me. Rhaenyra doesn’t have to give the command, or even raise the blade or-or bring Syrax to exact her justice. Daemon and whatever other lords seek to curry her favor will do what they think needs to be done, and that is to keep my children from being a threat, from being beacons of rebellion regardless of them being part of it or not. And if none do it for her, she will be forced to do it.”

Aegon may not want his sister’s throne, but Aemond? Her precious boy had received a grievous injury, but his sire, his father and king meant to protect him, had not cared. That night on Driftmark showed the court how utterly vulnerable Alicent and her children were, and her father had been right. She had to fight for them in a way she never had before. Aemond had risen to the challenge beside his mother, a protector, but also quiet and feral in ways that frightened her, in ways that sometimes reminded her of the way Daemon Targaryen used to stride about - a siren song of strength compared to his elder brother.

If to truly protect them meant putting her first boy, precious in his own ways, her little Aegon who was finally smiling again, on the throne? To protect them? Then so be it.

Let all they’d been through, let all she had been through, be worth it, let it mean something. Mother and Father above, please just let it have been for something.

“They speak of the great insults done to our House,” Gwayne said softly, leaning against the foot of her bed, one long leg sprawled out before him, the other bent to lean his arm on. “To not name your son heir, then why take his Hightower bride?”

“I wonder, had he married Laena Velaryon, if he would have named her son heir,” Alicent said, frustration edging into her voice. “Corlys Velaryon would not tolerate his grandson not on the Iron Throne-”

“Which is why House Velaryon has not broken with Rhaenyra,” Gwayne finished with a snort, but there was no amusement in it. “The Sea Snake wants to make a name for his house. These Valyrian politics - but what man doesn’t?”

“Viserys doesn’t,” Alicent rolled her eyes and Gwayne met her gaze, the pair of them snickering like children. She felt the tension in her chest ease with the laughter, better than tears, and pushed at her brother’s knee. “It’s guilt over Aemma Arryn’s death and the king is a stubborn man. He is easily run roughshod but when his mind is made…” She shook her head. “Had father not pushed, maybe it would have changed. But father made him feel like a fool, and Viserys cannot abide that.”

“It was not just father, though,” Gwayne pointed out. “Our house pushed for it, yes, but whispers and confusion have run rampant through this realm since Aegon was born. Women do not sit the Iron Throne. Seven Hells, Jaehaerys held a council because he could not decide between a granddaughter or grandson. What power does House Targaryen truly have if they must beg the lords of the realm to decide their succession when it should be clear, the way the rest of the realm does?”

“Dragons,” Alicent pointed out softly. There were so many dragons now, many from Vhagar, a few from eggs that Meraxes had laid - she recalled from Aemond’s excited speeches, a thick tome of dragon lineages clutched in his arms. “They have dragons.”

Gwayne’s hand reached up, fingers warm against her forehead as he pushed away a loose curl. “You are just as fierce,” he told her. “If not more.”

“Stop,” she muttered and pushed at his knee before they rose and she smoothed the wrinkles of her skirt.

The children were scattered that morning. Helaena was in the gardens with little Floris and likely Jacaerys skulking after her as he’d taken to doing when council meetings weren’t in session. He had behaved well enough, from what she had seen and what had been reported to her. Bastard born he may truly be, Jacaerys had always treated her daughter kindly. There was frustratingly little she could do with the boy now, for word would trickle back to Viserys, who would feel like he needed to roar to make himself feel in control before retreating back to his lair.

She knew that Aemond kept watch, although her boy as of late had been distracted. When not in his studies or the training yard, he was hardly to be found. Which left Aegon and Abrogail, and at least she knew precisely where they would be then.

The weeks following the festivities had seen a change in her son, and one that Alicent wasn’t sure how to feel. The dalliance with the Lefford girl aside (no bastard had taken root, and the girl had been given a place in her household until such a time a match could be made), as well as whatever foolishness he’d engaged in with Cassandra Baratheon, Aegon had performed admirably. His spectacle making tried her patience, but won admiration through the court. No longer her little boy, her first son, Aegon had come into himself in a way that Alicent had not thought him capable of, and feared that it would not last.

For all the pain that ached and clawed inside her ribs at the sight of them, the displays of affection between her son and Abrogail had also proven fruitful, and she did not sense any facet of artifice between them. When her son smiled down at his betrothed, an easing sensation coursed through her, as if the tightly spooled coil inside of her was able to release gently.

Relief. Relief that this might, in fact, work out better than she hoped.

Perhaps the girl had been right in defending Aegon, yet Alicent still held her breath, did not let her relief grow unbound. Aegon often threw himself into new pursuits, at least once upon a time. He’d let it consume him and just as she thought she found what he needed to truly take responsibility, the novelty wore off and then there they were, back where things began, her son drunk and dunked in a horse trough to sober him up.

They found the children in the small, family dining hall. Abrogail’s ladies were clustered on a set of low chairs and chaises that had been brought in. Lady Desmara Crane and Lady Merei Thorne sat on either side of Lady Wylla, silk and lace across all their laps as they worked on Abrogail’s trousseau. The Riverlands girls that Abby had taken for ladies had returned home in order to get their own things and order, and would meet the wedding party at Harrenhal. Alicent regarded their dresses - all different, and made a mental note to ensure that uniforms denoting their statuses as ladies-in-waiting were taken care of when the seamstress came for the next wedding gown fitting.

The dancing master stood at the edge of the parquet floor where her son and cousin stood, the minstrels in the corner with the Targaryen drum and other instruments. The room was cool in the early afternoon, the torches out, the curtains fluttering gently in the fall breeze. Samwell was sweet voiced, and had been in court since her wedding a score ago. He was not a particularly tall man, still plump, but the years had sharpened the roundness of his face. He still composed, but now served as a dance master, leading the court in new dances. Samwell had taught the children as well, and as Alicent watched him, his feathered cap of red and black striping bobbing in time with the music, it felt as if she were transported to a godswood and a song she never wanted to hear again.

Samwell’s exasperation was palpable, and Alicent could see the pink flushed along Abrogail’s face all the way up to her hairline.

“You go left,” he instructed her sharply, the cane he held to keep the tempo cracking loud enough to cause the children and herself to jump. “The prince turns right, as the flow of air. You are receiving him, my lady.”

“Left,” Abrogail repeated, fingers twitching in the pale blue damask of her gown. Aegon gestured in the direction she was meant to go in and the music resumed. Aegon had the steps down, but Abrogail struggled to follow the beat that was so different to the normal court dances. Alicent wondered if it was some memory of Old Valyria that thumped through her son’s veins, for she recalled that Rhaenyra and Laenor’s rehearsals had gone quickly. Alicent had mercifully been saved from such a dance, for the king had not wanted to perform it again.

A short ‘Ow!’ escaped Aegon and he jumped away as Abby apologized for stepping on his feet. Alicent sucked in her lips to hold in a laugh as Abby glared at him, snipping at him, “You are ridiculous.” Alicent clapped her hands and the music stopped, bows and curtsies from those gathered before her.

“Thank you, Master Samwell. I think that’s enough for today,” she said, watching Abrogail’s shoulders sag in relief. “You may resume on the morrow. No progress can be made when one is so frustrated.” She watched the girl open her mouth and then shut it quickly, eyes downcast. As the minstrels gathered their instruments, Alicent released her brother and approached the pair. Aegon had moved closer to Abrogail, curling a long, red curl around his finger.

Whatever her son was saying to her, Alicent could not hear, but she took the time to appreciate their closeness in a way she had not allowed herself to before. They had behaved themselves admirably in the weeks of festivities. Even as jealousy curled in her gut from the shattered dreams of her girlhood, the worries that had plagued Alicent’s days had eased as she saw how well they had gotten on, how favorably many in the realm looked upon them. Many had come to her, speaking highly of the match, how clear the pair were fond of one another.

How rare that very thing was in so many unions across the realm.

Alicent feared. She feared from the moment her eyes opened to past the time her eyes closed, feared for the safety of her children, and their happiness, unfairly, she knew, was not at the top of her concerns. To know that this might keep her son safe, to know that for the first time in years too many to count on her own hands, her son looked happy…

“I am half convinced the dance only makes sense to those with Valyrian blood,” Alicent said, a small smile crossing her face as she attempted to reassure her cousin. Abrogail’s features scrunched up uncertainty.

“Should we also not do a Riverlands dance as well?” The uncertainty left her, a small curl of a mischievous smile crossed the girl’s face as she eyed Aegon. “I’d like to see how well you perform that.”

Alicent pursed her lips at her son’s indignant look. Abrogail was not pregnant, there had been no scandals, no whispers. Whatever the girl had done to influence her son appeared to be working, the words she had said in such anger had taken root as Alicent had hoped. Aegon had thrown himself into good presentation, regardless of whatever dalliances her son had engaged in with Lady Cassandra.

“You are marrying a Targaryen, and with that comes certain expectations and obligations,” Alicent said carefully, her fingers running along the deep sleeves of her deep green gown, fingers tracing along the golden embroidery of the cuffs. “The might of the Targaryen House will be on display.” The girl nodded, eyes averted respectfully and Alicent watched her son continue to wind one of the long, red curls around his finger. He tugged on it, drawing her attention.

Alicent looked away to watch the minstrels leave the hall, the door closing with a soft thud behind them, the ladies continuing to work on their sewing. “Your brother is not here? Nor Helaena?”

“Daeron is with Helaena in the gardens. He has no interest in dancing,” Aegon rolled his eyes as Gwayne did. “He’s twelve.”

“Aemond is in the training yard with Ser Criston,” came Abrogail’s soft addition, reaching up to bat Aegon’s hand away from her hair. “He’s training for the wedding tourney.”

Aegon snorted. “Even though he complains how tourneys are nothing to real war.”

“Do not think you’ll escape the training yard with me,” Gwayne teased him. “Just be grateful I won’t have you out at sunup, given your newlywed status.”

Abrogail flushed. “Is-is everything alright, your Grace? Did something happen?” Aegon’s eyes swiveled curiously from the girl to her and Alicent smoothed her hands over her skirt.

“We would announce it at dinner, but I had hoped to speak to Floris.” she shook her head. “Lord Borros has agreed to the betrothal between Aemond and her. Obviously not for a few years - she is only a girl, but it will at least give time for her and Aemond to get to know one another.”

‘You had been only a girl’, Alicent thought. It was why she had fought so hard against her father to wait just a little longer before betrothing Aegon and Abrogail. To give the girl more time, the way her mother would have wanted, the way that it had not been afforded to her. She would do what she could for Floris.

And hopefully give Aemond time to come around to the idea.

Alicent sighed. Hopefully, her second son would be in a more receptive mood after hours having Ser Criston exhaust him with drills. “I shall go find your brother and hopefully catch him before he flees for Vhagar. Floris will be easy enough to speak to, if her sister hasn’t found her already.” She reached out, stroking Aegon’s hair, pushing the silver strands out of his eyes. The way he stiffened did not go unnoticed, and her heart ached with guilt. Her hand dropped, her smile tight and Aegon gave her a slight bow, Abrogail bobbing her own curtsy, a murmured ‘Your Grace’ whisper soft.

The moment Jace saw Aemond dominating the training yard, he felt his stomach drop and promptly went right and through the tunnel towards the gardens. While things with his uncle had been only filled with tension, Jace knew when to pick his battles and that was one he did not need to dive into.

The terraced gardens of King’s Landing featured in some of his earliest memories, when things were simpler, when the animosity and the tension hadn’t suffocated them all. In the gardens, the rest of the world fell away, much like how he felt when he rode Vermax, his jade wings skimming the waves of the sea, the salt wind in his face. The suffocating stench of King’s Landing was not so bad here, and while one was never alone - too many servants, too many lingering lords and ladies, all to ever truly be hidden - it was still a reprieve and Jace made his way down to the third terrace where the fountains were. With the fountains were mud, and he knew that Helaena would be there with her jar to dig up little things to feed her collection.

The first thing Jace heard was the laughter of children, and he spied Floris Baratheon swinging a stick rather aggressively at Daeron, whose eyes were wide in shock at the battle cry she let out. A grin broke out across his face as he gathered himself, and swung his stick back with equal fervor. Baela’s ladies - minus his step-sister who was still at High Tide - were gathered on the stone terrace along with Helaena’s new lady, eating cakes and gossiping.

Helaena herself crouched beside some of the large stones, a jar beside her as she rolled over one of the stones. Her hair was bound in a simple silver braid hung over one shoulder, her deep green gown embroidered with silver moths turned muddy and damp from the wet ground. Jace watched her pick a worm from where it clung to the stone and set it carefully away.

“Fish with feathered fins,” she said as Jace approached and he noticed her gaze was focused on her work, fingers twitching, the words nonsensical. He had not seen the expression on her face in years, had thought, mayhaps, her moments had abated over time as she grew older.

It was not the case. It was not something the princess had grown out of, and he remembered with clarity of a frantic, sobbing fit she’d had when they were children. Helaena was meant to be handled gently - Jace remembered his mother saying as much when they were young, not long after Daeron had been born. He should treat Helaena kindly, and respect when she did not want to be touched, and be mindful of loud noises. And so he did, stern with Luke when he would screech in excitement or indignation, snap at Aegon when he raised his voice. It had been the two of them playing in the halls of the Red Keep, playing a game of hide and seek, and he’d found Helaena, frozen in the hallway to his mother’s room, tears streaking down her face, clutching something to her. It had been nothing, but she would not drop her arms, and not knowing what to do, Jace had gotten his mother. Belly round with Joffrey, she’d come out, concern etched on her features and together they sat on the ground with Helaena, his mother not touching her but speaking to her in calm tones.

“The rats, the rats, the rats are coming,” Helaena had whispered in a frantic mantra.

“The rats will not hurt you, hāedus. I will go to Lord Lyonel and we will ensure there are more ratcatchers employed. I promise.” His mother said firmly and clearly, not dismissing the concern, her gaze towards him.

“And if we find a rat, we will get Abby’s cat to help catch them,” Jace had promised with a nod.

She was not crying here. She was distant from the world around them, and focused on something that wasn’t the little bugs she was dropping into the jar. Helaena was so far away and Jace kneeled beside her. The ground was wet and cold and promptly began soaking into the wool of his trousers. He ignored the uncomfortable sensation and remained beside her, curls in his eyes and reached for the scurrying little bugs to drop in the jar.

“Fish with feathered fins and storms of ivy,” she whispered. “Not that one. The red ones get ignored.”

Jace started when he realized she had addressed him in the middle of her whispers and dropped the red pill bug back onto the soft earth. It eagerly burrowed back into the soil, vanishing without a trace.

“Shall we find you a fish with feathered fins?” he asked her softly, a slight jest in his voice as he attempted to draw her back into the present moment. Helaena did not reply to him but shifted the jar better between them and he went about pulling up the next large stone to pull the bugs from beneath it.

“Promises shatter in ice,” Helaena said.

“What?”

Heleana drew back to sit on her heels, the rock falling back in place and her hands covered in mud. Her gaze appeared to fix on them and Jace watched her quietly, the sounds of Daeron and Floris’ laughter filling the garden. It felt ominous to him, the feeling rushing in like water behind a broken dam.

Tentatively, Jace lifted a hand to rest on her shoulder. “Helaena, come back to me,” he urged gently, thumb stroking against the soft wool. “You’re going somewhere and I haven’t any idea how to follow you.” He would if he could, for he knew that whatever plagued Helaea was a frightening place that she should not traverse alone, even tethered to Dreamfyre as she was.

All he could do was reach for her, and hope that she heard him.

Helaena slowly blinked, as if the act itself was something she had to remind herself or force herself to do. Jace swallowed and chanced a glance over his shoulder. Daeron and Floris were still chasing one another with their sticks, and the ladies were occupied with their chatting. He frowned with an uncertain feeling. Should her ladies not be attending her? Or did they think it best to leave her be? A sharp inhale of breath drew his focus back to Helaena. She pulled away awkwardly, hands fluttering and fingers flexing.

“I…” Helaena looked lost, confused, and she stared at him but did not meet his eyes, mouth opening and closing, words unable to escape her. Jace shook his head and kept his hand to himself in her clarity of not wanting the touch.

“You’re alright. You’re safe here.”

“Helaena?”

Abrogail’s voice carried past the hedge and she came around the bed, mouth tight, gripping tightly to Wylla Karstark’s hand. The dark haired woman looked pale, face tense as she followed.

“See?” Jace said, hoping it would comfort the princess. “Abrogail’s here.” Would that help? He felt impotent, helpless, useless in the worst possible way.

Abrogail and Wylla dropped to the other side of Helaena, the mud and damp soaking into the hems of their skirts. “How long has she been like this?” Abrogail asked, voice quiet but firm, blue eyes searching the princess’ face before looking at him.

“Since before I came.” Abrogail reached for one of Helaena’s hands, spreading her fingers out and gently stroking each of them to keep them from bending back into the anxious claws they had been. The ease of the motion spoke to how often they’d done it, Abrogail pressing her thumb gently into Helaena’s palm to ease the rigidity.

“Helaena? What is the matter?” Abrogail leaned in and Helaena did not meet her gaze but drew back, pulling her hand away and clutching both to her chest. A sound escaped her throat, small, a growl perhaps? Or a whimper? Helaena’s silver braid swung and she sharply changed direction, shifting to her knees to grab Wylla’s hand.

“Silence doesn’t mean the grave,” Helaena hissed. Wylla’s gray eyes were wide, brow furrowed in confusion as Helaena leaned in, pinning Wylla in place like a moth on one of her boards. Jace could see how tightly she gripped the other’s hand.

“Your Grace?” Wylla whispered and Helaena grabbed her now with both hands, shaking her head. Abrogail met Jace’s eyes, confused, before her gaze went to the ladies sitting on the terrace. The confusion turned to incredulity.

“Have they been sitting here this whole time?” she asked him in a calm voice, and the familiarity of it hit him in the chest. Her voice was calm, but there was nothing calm in the words. There was a quiet anger simmering beneath those words, brightening her gaze, and it reminded him so much of Ser Harwin that it took his breath away. Gentle and fierce.

Jace knew immediately that she meant, and he felt his own jaw tick as his understanding of the situation shifted. He nodded, holding her gaze, feeling a tempest inside of his chest. “I’ll stay here,” he promised and Abrogail’s gaze softened along the edges, her hand reaching out as if she meant to cup his cheek before she stopped herself. Hand still in the air, her fingers curled and with another nod, she gathered herself up to do whatever it was she meant to do.

“Don’t.”

Abrogail stilled, awkwardly half standing, Helaena’s fingers gripping her wrist. “What?”

The princess dropped a hand from Wylla to reach for Abrogail’s wrist. “Don’t,” she repeated, her head tilting, her mouth pursed in annoyance. “Don’t do that.”

“But, Helaena-”

Helaena yanked Abrogail’s arm hard enough that the unbalanced girl toppled over with a wet slap and Abrogail grimaced as the mud and wet soaked into her more uncomfortably. “They are supposed to be tending you.”

“And they are. I sent Margaery away before Jace came by.” Helaena sounded more exasperated than the annoyance that filled her actions and she gestured for Jace to hand her the jar of bugs. “You mustn’t lecture them.”

“I-” Helaena gave her a look and Abrogail shut her mouth, chastened. “I’m sorry.” In the quiet after the words, Daeron gave a shout and Jace saw him hit the ground hard, his stick sword flung out of his hand as Floris Baratheon stood over him, her own sword pointing right into his face. The ladies cheered and clapped for Floris, and offered their sympathies to Daeron. Helaena huffed and let go of Abrogail’s wrist.

“Jace was here and I was fine. Thank you, Jacaerys.” His cheeks flushed beneath her unblinking gaze, chest warm, even as the confusion of what had all happened still stormed inside of him. “He came exactly when I needed. Not too early, nor too late. I am capable of expressing my own needs.” Abrogail flushed for different reasons, fingers twisting. “What is it?”

Abrogail looked to Wylla. “The queen came to our dancing lessons-”

“Was it about how you keep stepping on Aegon’s feet?”

“I didn’t step - No!” Abrogail’s nose wrinkled with annoyance. “‘Tis not my fault dances are so complicated and that my feet do not behave. No.” A deep breath, another look, this time in the direction of Floris and Daeron. “She said that Aemond and Floris are now betrothed, she was going to find Aemond and then you.”

The silence held. Then, “Even though Wylla and Aemond have been kissing everywhere?” Helaena asked.

“But she’s eleven,” Jace protested.

The words hung in the air while it was Wylla’s turns for her cheeks to flush and Abrogail to stare at her. Jace also looked at her, surprised that Lady Wylla would even want to voluntarily get that close to Aemond, let alone kiss him.

“You’ve been kissing Aemond? And you didn’t tell me?” Abrogail’s incredulous voice was hushed so as not to pull the attention of the others.

Wylla shrugged helplessly. “It hasn’t been everywhere,” she muttered beneath the attention. “And this isn’t the point. I…” Wylla shook her head. “Prince Jacaerys is right, Floris is a little girl, does she mean to send them both to Storm’s End?”

“At least it isn’t Cassandra,” Helaena said with a frown. “No, they will not be sent to Storm’s End. Floris is my ward. She will stay with me for as long as I can keep her.” A sigh. “Floris has many years before she is to be married. Who's to say the betrothal will even last?”

Wylla looked uncertain. “You sound sure of yourself.”

Helaena looked at her. “I’m not. But Lord Borros is feckless and mercurial, he may change his mind if it means he cannot betroth Cassandra, or if he has a son.” Jace did not know if those were truly Helaena’s opinions on the matter, or if she was mimicking what her mother had said.

“Can you not break it as you did yours?” Abrogail asked. Helaena shook her head.

“Breaking my betrothal to Aegon should never have worked, and it was because our grandfather already found it distasteful that he convinced our father to break it on the eventual promise that Aemond and I might marry, and that also isn’t happening. Obviously.”

The look on Wylla’s face was one of confused near-disgust, one that Jace had seen in many outside of their family. Most found it objectionable to imagine kissing their own siblings, and Jace himself could not imagine kissing Luke if his brother had been born a girl, so he perhaps understood that.

Besides, none would find it strange if Helaena was only his cousin, for the blood they shared was the same in that regard.

“Floris will not mind if you keep kissing Aemond, Wylla, do not fear that,” Helaena continued, tightening the lid on her jar.

Wylla sputtered, glaring at Helaena. “Respectfully, Helaena,” she said, not even giving her the proper title, and Helaena looked up from her jar. “I do mind. I will not be some paramour, or continue some ill-fated dalliance with your brother just because Floris doesn’t mind. Floris is eleven and she deserves to be treated respectfully, not to mention I deserve it. I will not be shamed, or the newest subject for court gossip.” She sniffed, and Jace could not tell if she was trying not to cry, or if she was so angry she could spit. Abrogail rested a hand on Wylla’s back, lower lip caught between her teeth. Helaena shut her mouth, brow furrowed, and looked at her jar of bugs. “If Aemond suggests such a thing, I will cease everything. I will not allow him to do that to me, nor anyone else. I will push him out of a window for such a thing.”

Jace smothered his laugh into a cough at the imagery of such a threat, and had to keep from offering to assist the lady.

Helaena pressed her lips together, a little snort escaping her. “I would like to see that. He does need it sometimes,” she allowed. “I will see what mother says when she comes.” Her fingers drummed against the jar, and still, Helaena did not meet anyone’s eyes, still caught in whatever in between space that plagued her, but her words were more present, and that was truly what mattered.

Sitting there on the cold, wet ground, Jace wondered what his mother would say about all this. He had been sent to King’s Landing not just to serve on grandfather’s small council, but to be her eyes and ears amongst the viper’s nest. Any piece of information, no matter how small, could possibly become crucial to her cause. But as he sat there, Helaena’s hand drifting to rest near him, it felt like a further betrayal to reveal the conversation, even though he had, more or less, been a part of this. It wasn’t as if it had been overheard and none of the women knew he was there. They had none, and spoken openly regardless.

He could put off writing. At least for now.

AND WITH THAT! We are on our way to Harrenhal! I'd love to know what you loved about this chapter, and what you're looking forward to! Any questions or curiosities? ALSO! WE are sooooo taking bets on what (if anything?) is going to go wrong at this epic Westerosi Royal Wedding. And if you aren't sure what to say, drop a dragon emoji in the comments so I know you were here <3 and as always, thank you for being here. I appreciate each and every one of you.

[Next Chapter]

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spaceumbredoggos · 6 months

Text

However fucked up Alex reveals Bill and Ford’s relationship is revealed to be in The Book Of Bill, Kenz and Bill’s is a hundred times worse.

Disclaimer: I am not glorifying abuse in any way shape or form. I myself have had nightmares similar to this despite never being sexually abused, both Bill related and otherwise. Some of these are based on personal experience (such as the nightmares), whilst others are a device used to show how fucked up shipping Bill with pretty much anyone is. Not even the Axolotl is safe in my opinion. If Bill was real, I’d guarantee he’d probably be a massive creep and with how thirsty his fankids are (and I’m calling myself out here) he’d probably use his magic to g*oom those kids like a church pastor. The thing that scares me the most about Bill being canonically real is not that he could catastrophically end the world, it’s his oversexualization in the fandom that got so bad, Alex himself had to make him unattractive. This will be along the lines of a Yandere Bill Cipher x Reader headcanons. With that being said, here’s a few content warnings:

G*ooming, Pedoph*lia, s*xual abuse and assault, physical and psychological abuse, mind control, cult-like things, psychosis, and general paranoia. I’m not saying these things actually happened, but knowing Bill’s character and his powers and history, if he was real, I’d generally be afraid for anyone in the Gravity Falls fandom. Especially minors.

This could be my most controversial post yet, and it could jeopardize any potential of getting into some colleges. This may sound like paranoid rambling, but I know that Bill is just a cartoon character. That being said, Alex like the blur the line between our world and the world of gravity falls with Bill’s character, dicing around the fact that he’s influenced history and wrote all religion on the basis of a lie. I’m not scapegoating him as “controlling global politics on a massive scale” because that would be stupid and I’ll sound like those tin foil hat rednecks that snort moonshine and burn pride flags. My heart goes out to all those who have been impacted by all forms of abuse as an abuse survivor myself. Alex, if you see this post (or any other of my posts/ read my fanfics), just know that it’s a critique on the fandom and the canon lore, and a cautionary warning to avoid lawsuits in case The Book of Bill Cipher causes mass psychosis.

As a kid (ages 7-9) I would watch Gravity Falls casually. At that age, the only thing I consumed online content wise was Skylanders and Minecraft content (Skylanders until age nine, then it was pretty much a lot of Team Crafted, Popularmmos, DanTDM, and other Minecraft YouTubers.) I didn’t invest in the Gravity Falls fandom until I was eleven (that’s when I first started writing my fanfics. The drafts are long gone because they were on school computers that were crammed with viruses due to kids installing Minecraft mods (this was just before chromebooks became mainstream. I went to a special ed middle school specifically for autistic individuals (it was pretty ableist, gonna make a post on that.) so the rules on what was allowed in school were pretty loose content wise. It didn’t have to be educational, as long as it didn’t have blood or guns. There were no safe search filters or Go Guardian (I remember one of my friends accidentally finding Iris from Pokemon black and white vore. I also found Pacifica vore.)) Before that, the February before my tenth birthday, my dad took my TV out of my room due to behavioral issues (undiagnosed autism go brrr). Around that time, there was talk in my town that the Disney channel was “rotting kids minds” with bad attitudes and crude humor (this could be said about any child’s television network (I mean, look at Nickelodeon.) but I lived in a pretty conservative area of Southern California and had a pretty conservative dad. So naturally, Disney was the scapegoat (this was way before the “woke” era of Disney.)) All of this talk of Brainrot made me stop watching the Disney channel during the peak era of gravity falls (2015 as a whole) and I didn’t watch gravity falls again until summer of 2016 when my tv was put back in my room (with intense parental controls so that I couldn’t watch my vet shows.) That’s when I had my first gravity falls dream about Bill cipher. It had to do with getting unicorn hair to protect my house from Bill Cipher. I had an interest in dreams previously due to warrior cats. It was at that moment when Gravity Falls was added to the obsession list.

As a neurodivergent eleven year old surrounded by other neurodivergent preteens and teens, we found common ground talking about Gravity Falls at school. I also would, whenever I didn’t feel the prying eyes of the grown ups or my peers would go off outside and act out my gravity falls x pokemon x warrior cats fanfiction (I’m not sure if those are signs of maladaptive daydreaming disorder or I simply had an intense imagination that would consume my body and make me want to just act out my fanfictions outside. I don’t do this anymore, mostly because of my own embarrassment and I can just write it out.) Yes, there were times where the discussion or action played out Bill Cipher being real. A lot of my “play” as I called it back then was me being kidnapped or possessed by Bill. I even wrote some really cringey fanfics involving my friends and Bill Cipher. To this day, I still involve my family in my fanfiction, but more final drafts will have their names changed. Weirdmaggeddon was a common topic, as well as Bill Cipher possession.

As time went on, I had more dreams about Bill Cipher, fueling the obsession and the fact that Bill could be real. During my middle school years, I never had a crush on Bill Cipher, despite what my friends seem to think. My parents just took it as whatever and as long as I was happy and just working towards going to a neurotypical non-sped school. My crush on Bill Cipher didn’t start until I was in high school. I remember it specifically being Valentine’s Day 2020 when I learned that I have a crush on the triangle. My dreams of Bill would only get more frequent and worse from here (involving the typical horny teenage dream that I don’t want to elaborate because I feel weird doing so (you’ll see why later on.))

Now there’s typically nothing wrong with having a cartoon crush. Given any other cartoon character that doesn’t have a canon history of influencing this world (Bill’s history of influence is vague but it still counts) I would excuse this as another silly cartoon crush like PurpleCliffe simping for Cynthia and the like. However, given that it’s in the show’s canon that Bill could be real and he crossed over to our world, do you understand what implications this could have? Bill is trillions of years old, he’s likely seen every timeline to ever exist. Meanwhile, there are whole armies of fankids who are down bad for him (including me.)

Notice how when I first started getting into Gravity Falls that I didn’t have a crush on him. How many other fankids felt the same way? It wasn’t until years of obsessing over Gravity Falls did I develop feelings for him. And of Alex says in the Book of Bill Cipher what I think he’s going to say (that Bill probably ab*sed Ford sexually with possible g*ooming involved), notice the pattern that is being presented here? Alex, if you blur the lines between fiction and reality with a villain who may or may not have canonically g*oomed and abused someone, possibly using mind control given his powers and his role as a dream demon, could it really be so far fetched that… (I’m not going to say it because it’s leaving a sour taste in my mouth, but use your imagination.)

If we take Alex’s word that Bill has crossed over to our world, then we can only assume that there are vulnerable kids and adults being… You get the picture. I’m not explicitly saying that it is happening right now, but this is problematic because revealing that Bill ab*sed Ford in that way means that Alex would probably imply that Bill is doing the same to MINORS. I may sound paranoid and this may just be a ramble, but considering the show’s canon and how mythology is filled with cases of degenerative acts from deities, this is a really fucked up situation.

It may be funny to say “haha, evil triangle man is sexy” but at the end of the day, Alex stated that Bill has crossed over into our world. For all we know, he could be taking advantage of the fact that people thirst for him, probably not in pleasant ways.

#gravity falls #bill cipher #the book of bill #ford pines #tw abuse #tw grooming #Alex Hirsch #bill cipher x reader #is bill cipher real #I may overly psychoanalyse myself for the sake of making a statement #but what if #this took me a day to write #don’t cancel me #hear me out

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olgsecond · 2 months

Note

Hi! You seem to be a LawZo fic reader. Do you perhaps have recommendations to share?

I do, but I'm afraid they are popular, so everyone already read them. I'm just like 15 years later back into fandom without even starbacks (we don't have starbacks here anymore). But if you are new here, check this stuff, it fucks.

I'm still going through LawZo tag on AO3, being very picky in the process, so there's not much. But I have like 30 tabs of fanfiction opened, so maybe I will be able to recommend something more in the future.

All finished works. Happy endings. In no particular order:

"Panic Pixie Dream Boy" by calysto1395

Was the first fic I read after a two years break. Wasn't disappointed in the slightest. Very good smooth language. If you love Zoro as much as I do you will be delighted.

Additional snippets on autor's tumblr: one, two

"Law's Eleven" by calysto1395

Canon divergence, but don't worry everyone is on their place in the end. Dunno how to describe it without giving spoilers. Law is his own enemy, suicidal bastard. Good thing Zoro won't let him die so easily.

Snippets: one, two

"so little is a stone" by deleted_bundles

Zoro-centric. LawZo is not the main theme, but still is very satisfying. Zoro instantly shifts into big brother mode the moment he knows Chopper exist. Actually meaningful Zoro&Luffy friendship. Good written. Deals with heavy topics, child abuse and trauma, and deals very good. (mind warnings) (Mihawk is a really bad guy here, but can be seen as OC)

"I Do - For Now, For Forever" by anarchycox

Fake marrige, falling in love. Interesting worldbuilding. Protective Zoro. Mugivara family.

"Promises and More Promises" by anarchycox

Very light and heartwarming fic. Everyone happy and nothing hurts.

"Three Sword Style Sugar Baby" by anarchycox

Starts very light, but then crushes your heart and remodels it back but happier.

(Author has more fics and other ships, all good quality, check it out. I dived into her AO3 account and emerged five days later with 3 hours of sleep)

Also check this zine, it's amazing.

#fic recommendation #fic recs #one piece #lawzo #roronoa zoro #trafalgar d water law #its the first time i did something like this dont judge hard

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frankencanon · 1 year

Text

So... Anyone else headcanon Buggy as Vivi's long lost uncle?

No? Just me? Okay... 🥹

Disclaimer: Do I actually believe this is canon? No. But do I want it to be? Yes.

My reasoning for this is fairly simple:

Blue hair.

-> Click on the "Keep reading" below for a bunch more nonsense on how I think this could actually work...

---

I did my math, and King Cobra is about eleven (11) years older than Buggy — which is a pretty big age gap but we're not focusing on him — we're focusing on his wife, Titi, who Vivi is apparently the spitting image of.

Queen Titi is the one responsible for Vivi's blue hair, and thus she is the one who I'm headcanoning Buggy to be related to.

And, as it is entirely common for couples to have age gaps of a few years or so... Titi can help to close that afformentioned age gap.

Whereas King Cobra might be eleven years older than Buggy, it's not unreasonable to assume that Titi could've been five or so years younger — shortening the siblings' age gap to a measly five or six years — which is not nearly as unreasonable!

Hell, we might as well throw Franky in there as well! He's got similarly blue hair and he's only three years younger than Buggy!

I last looked up these ages like a day or two ago so here's hoping I didn't remember any wrong!

Now, how could they be related if they all grew up in such different places?

Answer: Their parents are unknowns! For all three of them!

If I'm remembering right, Franky's parents were said to have been pirates who abandoned him.

Buggy's parents are a complete unknown since, unlike Shanks, Oda hasn't told us anything about how he wound up on the Rogers' ship.

And Titi? We don't know much about her at all.

So it is entirely possible that Franky wasn't the only kid his parents abandoned...

Not to mention that Alabasta and Water 7 are fairly close to one other.

And we have no idea where Buggy is originally from, but "somewhere in the Grand Line" is a pretty safe estimate.

So. One wound up in Alabasta, another in Water 7, and the third got picked up by Gol D. Roger himself.

Water 7 has a lot of incoming and outgoing ships, right? So it's not that hard to believe that they all could've been abandoned there originally, but two wound up on outgoing ships...

Titi, the oldest, snuck aboard a ship bound to Alabasta as a stowaway.

Buggy, the middle child, got kidnapped by Roger who pointed at him and said, "Is anybody gonna take this?" And then didn't wait for an answer.

And Franky, the youngest, never left in the first place.

---

Edit: OK, so I checked out Franky's backstory and here's how it apparently went:

Cutty Flam, originally born in the South Blue, was yeeted by his pirate parents at a young age — literally. Those jerks actually threw him off their ship and into the water — for some godforsaken reason.

He was then rescued by Tom the Fish-Man, legendary shipwright.

At some point Tom saw Cutty assemble a cannon out of scrap metal, and after that he decided to take him on as an apprentice.

Iceberg, Tom's other apprentice, decided to nickname him "Franky" because apparently "Cutty Flam" is too weird a name. Pot, meet kettle.

And that's all the relevant info.

---

Hmm... Now what can we do with this?

Well, if his parents were just yeeting kids off the ship as they go... That makes things a lot easier, actually.

How did they end up on different islands, all split up? Easy! Their shitty parents were literally just yeeting them off the ship whenever.

First one to get yeeted got picked up by a ship returning to Alabasta, who took mercy on the innocent child and brought them home. (Maybe it was the royal family returning from the Revelry? That could explain how Cobra and Titi first met...)

The second child to get yeeted was rescued by Roger and his crew, who conveniently were already on the hunt for a playmate for their first child — Crocus and Rayleigh were very insistent that it's extremely important for a child's development for them to have friends their own age growing up...

The third child got yeeted somewhere in the vicinity of Water 7, and was saved by Tom; His story after that follows canon.

---

Why were they yeeted in different locations and at different times, you ask? My answer: Consider their ages.

I don't know what kind of scumbag pirates yeet their own children to their supposed deaths, but perhaps it's the same kind who have children for nefarious reasons...

Perhaps they had some kind of use for a young child — fake hostage? bait? tax break?! — but once they reach a certain age... Suddenly, the kid's not so useful anymore.

And so they get dumped, just in time for their asshole parents to give birth to a new heir.

And rinse and repeat...

And so we got Titi, and Buggy, and Franky — all born a handful of years apart and dumped in different locations after they were no longer useful for their parents' schemes.

---

INFO:

Titi (Titi) - Age ??? - ティティ

Buggy (Bagii) - Age 37/39 - バギー

Cutty Flam (Kati Furamu) aka Franky (Furankii) - Age 34/36 - カティ・フラム aka フランキー

Age gap between Buggy (37/39) & Nefertari Cobra (48/50): 11 years

Age gap between Buggy (37/39) & Franky (34/36): 3 years

Age gap between: Franky (34/36) & Nefertari Cobra (48/50): 14 years

If we give Buggy & Titi the same age gap as Franky & Buggy then Titi would've been 40 pre- and 42 post-timeskip, a total of eight (8) years younger than Cobra. Not unrealistic at all!

Then again, she was their first child so it's entirely possibly they held off longer before giving in and having another child to replace her — not because they cared about her, but because they would've been reluctant to have to start all over again with raising another noisy, annoying baby, and would've preferred to keep running the scam with her, seeing as she was already trained and fairly self-sufficient.

So maybe she's a little older. A year or two perhaps? That would be one year to dilly-dally, and one year for the new kid to be born.

Let's make it a total of three extra years: two years they spent convinced they could get the scam to continue working even as she got older, and then the one year it took for them to have baby Buggy after they gave up hope.

So that makes Titi six years older than Buggy, nine years older than Franky, and five years younger than Cobra.

If she had been alive during canon events, she would've been 43 years old pre-timeskip and 46 years old post-timeskip.

---

Drabble:

As the first and oldest, Titi was well aware of her parents intentions to replace her.

And while as a child her first priority was to survive... As she got older and eventually had her own daughter, she might've found herself wondering about her possible siblings...

What happened to them?

How many were there?

Were they still alive?

Had they been dumped and abandoned as well?

Where were they now?

...And could she find them?

Late at night she would have trouble sleeping, frequently thinking of the other children like her that she never got the chance to meet...

Her husband, Nefertari Cobra, would notice and ask her what was troubling her, and she would confess her regrets...

And Cobra, sweet and kind man that he is, would promise to do his very best to find her siblings for her.

And later, when she passed, he never stopped looking.

Until, one day...

---

Oh, and before I forget:

You're probably thinking something along the lines of, "but there are a bunch more characters with blue hair! What about them?"

I hear you, and my response is this:

Not like this. Sure, Buggy and Vivi's hair aren't colored exactly the same — but compared to everyone else with blue hair? The only ones that get close are Franky (who I actually ended up slipping into this headcanon) and Kyōshirō, who...I don't even know what was going on with him honestly, but he definitely doesn't count.

(And even past the hair color, there's also the similar texture and shape that becomes extremely apparent when Buggy and Vivi have their hair styled the same way — as shown clearly in the images above...

I mean, they've got the same waves and everything! For god's sake, even their hairbands are nearly identical! Like, c'mon!

Coincidence? I think not!)

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wakandas-vibranium · 1 year

Text

Planet Earth 2023 || Part One

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2.9k

Warning(s): Canon typical violence, cursing, injuries, fluff, slow burn

A/N: This will be a mini series in ten parts. Semi slow burn between Din and Reader. No beta reader, but there shouldn’t be too many grammatical errors. Please like, comment and share!

Summary: The Mandalorian and his kid were ambushed by pirates in space and ended up on Earth, crashing the new and improved Razor Crest right onto your front lawn.

part two

part three

part four

part five

part six

It was a shining afternoon in Florida. You were relaxing in your backyard, in a lounge chair beside your massive pool, soaking in all that the sun had to offer.

You were a renowned trauma surgeon, and this was your first vacation in four years. You considered sailing across the Atlantic Ocean for three weeks, but ultimately opted to stay in the comfort of your own home. A lot of time, effort, and money went into building your dream home, so of course you decided to bask in the ambiance for the next twenty-one days.

You lived in the middle of nothingness. Your nearest neighbor was a 6-mile drive up the road, and you couldn't be happier. It was a 12-mile trip to downtown, where there were plenty of grocery stores, gas stations, and restaurants.

You were on day two of your vacation. You took the liberty of driving into town yesterday to stock up on everything you needed. It was the first week of July, which was one of the busiest weeks in Tampa.

There were simply too many people. College and high school kids on summer break, bikers, tourists, and locals that got on your nerves every chance they got. Not to mention the buzzing flies, lizards, and deafening cicadas that were hellbent on driving everyone in Florida insane.

You leaned forward, taking one final swig from your flute glass. You made delicious mimosas. This was only your second glass, but you wanted to squeeze in a short nap before pouring a third.

You placed the empty glass on the mini table beside you and leaned all the way back, relaxing into the lounge chair. You tilted your hat down to protect your eyes from the beaming sun and drifted off to sleep.

Out of nowhere, a sound that you could only describe as the blue sky opening jolted you awake, and you shot up out of the lounge chair, gawking up at the sky. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. You snagged your cell phone from the mini table, checking the time.

4:09pm

You had only been asleep for eleven minutes. You pinched yourself to make sure you weren’t in the middle of a dream.

The foreign junk of metal barely missed the tall gate surrounding your home as it landed unceremoniously on your front lawn. You kicked off your wedge sandals and hauled ass to the front of your house, mentally preparing to rip this asshole to shreds with your venomous words.

You stopped at the wreckage, grumbling obscenities as you assessed the damage that was done. Your tulips were tarnished and a wide section of grass was burnt to a crisp. At least the lily and chrysanthemum sections were left unharmed.

The door to the colossal heap of metal opened, revealing the culprit, who appeared to be a helmeted man dressed in metal and black.

Wow, you thought, completely sidetracked by the man you saw before you and what appeared to be his ship. That was the spitting image of a spaceship. Living in Florida, you’ve met your fair share of cosplayers, but something about this man was different. How in the hell did he build something like that? How did he afford it? Those looked like authentic parts.

Despite the turbulent landing, the ship was not significantly damaged. It probably needed four or five repairs, but it appeared to be functional.

Whoever it was needed to collect their things, compensate for the damages, and get the hell off your property. You rolled your eyes at yourself for not stopping in the house to retrieve your handgun. Hopefully the man wouldn’t be violent towards you.

You walked fiercely up the ramp onto the ship, pausing when you spotted the man slightly bent over, groaning in pain as he clutched his right thigh.

“What in the fuck?” you yelled at the man, stopping all movement once you saw he was aiming a weapon at you.

He’s taking this cosplayer shit a little too far, you thought. You folded your arms across your chest, tapping a bare, beautifully pedicured foot against the floor of the ship as you waited for the tin man to say something.

He didn’t.

“What in the hell kind of gun is that?” you cursed, squinting as you pointed at the weirdly shaped weapon in his hand.

He tilted his head towards you, but still didn’t say anything.

“And what the hell are you wearing?” you continued, throwing your hands up in exasperation.

He looked like a complete and utter fool. Okay, that is not the case at all. He actually looked incredibly good in his costume. However, now is not the time to be ogling the man who just crashed into your front yard, destroying your favorite flowers.

“Get away from me.” he said, grunting softly, and gripping his thigh tighter as he attempted to stand up. Red drops of blood soaked a patch around the knee of his pants and trickled down his leg onto the spaceship's floor.

The smooth gruffness of his modulated voice was enough to make you standstill in your criticisms. It was almost as if he was speaking from his chest and not his mouth. You did not expect him to sound like that. How alluring.

“Excuse me!” you gasped in dismay once you remembered the rude tone he took with you as if you were the one who crashed into his perfect day.

The unmitigated gall this metal man had.

You pointed a perfectly manicured nail at him, “You’re the one who landed this fugly chunk of metal in my backyard! Who are you?”

“I am Mandalorian D—“

“—Is that supposed to mean somethin’ to me?” you asked, interrupting the bleeding man.

He exhaled in your direction. You barely gave him a chance to get a word in edgewise. Something about the man seemed both vulnerable and frightening at the same time. The large tear that was on his thigh was bleeding profusely. You took a cautious step forward, eyeing the wound. Although it didn't appear to be infected, the puncture was fairly deep and would require stitches.

“Who did this to you?”

“A pirate. We al-almost didn’t make it b—“

Who is we, you thought. You were so focused on the metal man, you didn’t even see the tiny green munchkin looking up at you with huge eyes that matched its long ears.

Oh my god. It was a green baby E.T.

Your heart skipped a beat and you slyly pinched yourself again to make sure you were wide awake.

He was too cute.

“—I’m sorry, did you just say a pirate did this to you?” you squeaked, interrupting the injured man yet again. Sorry not sorry. You were definitely in shock.

Great. Now alien pirates were a thing.

You shook your head hoping that would clear your bewildered mind. You only had two mimosas, but this newfound information was starting to give you an awful migraine. It was happening too fast. Your brain needed time to catch up.

“I think I put in the wrong coordinates before jumping,” the helmeted man disclosed before asking, “What planet is this?”

The space man went on about how his gravity well projector and navicomp malfunctioned due to the shootout with the pirates.

“Planet?” you replied, “Are you high?”

“Just tell me where I am.” the strange man grunted as he slowly rose to his feet, succeeding this time.

“This is Planet earth. Florida to be specific. Ever been here before?”

“This backwater—No. No, I haven’t.”

“Well, welcome to the sunshine state Mandalorian.” you flashed him a smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes.

“Just call me Mando.”

“Alright then, Mando,” you said, “I’m a doctor and I can stitch up that nasty gash you have there.”

He said nothing for a few seconds as he stood there weighing his options. He took one look down at the baby before agreeing.

“Yes, that’s a good idea. I can’t fight like this.”

“Who are you fightin’?”

“The pirates who tried to shoot me and my kid down. They’ll be here soon.”

Your second day of vacation was going to be spent fighting off alien pirates, huh? Not too shabby.

While he went to gather what he needed, you took this opportunity to explore this section of the ship in greater detail. Wow. This ship must have cost him a pretty penny. You extended a helping hand to the Mandalorian on the path to your home, but he declined, instead picking up the child and walking alongside you.

“You live alone?” He asked, stepping into the house after you.

“Yes.”

“Why?” he pressed, stumbling a bit as he tried to round the corner and keep up with your long strides.

“None of your goddamn business.” you quipped, motioning for him to come into the kitchen. He snorted softly and the baby cooed.

Somewhat unexpectedly, Mando let you steer him into the kitchen and even accepted your assistance in guiding him to a chair at the island in the middle of your kitchen. He sat the kid on the island and they both turned, watching you reach into the upper cupboard to pull out your homemade first aid kit.

You brought two chairs closer to him, sitting in one of them while motioning for him to position his leg up on the seat of the other chair. He leaned forward slightly and made a low grunting sound as he shifted his leg to perch on the chair.

To gain better access to the injury, you gingerly removed the metal plate that was shielding most of his thigh. Although the bleeding had stopped to some extent, the wound still needed cleaning and disinfecting before being patched up. You leaned closer as you dabbed at the laceration. Every now and then, when you applied too much pressure, he hissed softly, but he never told you to stop.

He asked, “Is that bacta?”

“I’m not sure what bacta is,” you admitted, half shrugging as you examined the jagged edges of the laceration. It was a nasty cut on his thigh, right above his knee. You noticed that his skin was white and not green. A curiosity you’d ask about at a more appropriate time. “This is a numbing agent called lidocaine. We use it so that the stitches don’t hurt as much.”

“Will it make me drowsy?”

You shook your head, “It shouldn’t. Plus it only lasts about 40 minutes or so.”

“Okay.”

“It’ll be a quick pinch then I’ll start stitchin’ you up.”

He just nodded. His kid cooed worriedly and you felt your heartstrings being tugged by the little one yet again. Aww, you thought, the little one was worried about his dad.

“Don’t worry, kid. I won’t hurt him.” you promised.

After injecting the lidocaine into his thigh with the needle, you proceeded to suture the wound closed, making sure not to pull too tightly on the ends. You went a little deeper than necessary on the next stitch, which caused Mando to jerk and grip your wrist, cursing loudly, “Dank farrik!”

“Ooh,” you grimaced at the sound of his harsh pants, stopping to glance at him and the kid, “I didn't mean to go that deep. Sorry, Mando.” you apologized.

To take his mind off the discomfort, you took two fingers and massaged the underside of his knee. As he relaxed, you could feel the tension ease out of his thigh muscles. Your method worked like a charm. It always did. He loosened his grip on your wrist before dropping his hand back into his lap.

“You ruined my favorite flowers, you know…” you commented as you peered up at him, attempting to find his eyes through the helmet. How was it even possible to have a tinted helmet? Exactly what were the Mandalorians so afraid of in space that they had to conceal their faces? When you failed to locate his eyes, you went back to the wound and threw another stitch. You were almost done now. Just a couple more sutures.

It was getting harder to ignore the tiny green guy's agitated cries. He must have been getting hungry or bored. Mando didn't utter a word, so you assume he was just used to it.

“I’m sorry about your tulips,” he expressed, ducking his head a bit in embarrassment, “I’ll see if I can salvage them once I know we’re in the clear.”

“You know how to tend to flowers?”

“A little bit.” he said, shrugging as he turned his attention towards his upset kid.

“Sorry,” Mando apologized for the increasing volume of the kid’s cries, “He’s probably hungry.”

“Well, I have some leftovers from brunch. Does he have any allergies?”

“Not that I'm aware of.” Mando replied.

“Alright. I’ll fix him a plate once I’m done with you. Would you like to eat somethin’ too?”

“Not really hungry at the moment.”

“Okay.”

After you had completed the last stitch, you took a little, red container, opened it, and used a dollop of vaseline to evenly spread it over the stitches. As soon as you had completed that task, you got to your feet and headed over to the kitchen sink, where you washed your hands thoroughly.

You took some oatmeal and heated it up in the microwave, sliced an apple and added a few red pieces to the bowl. You grabbed a spoon, handing it to the child as you placed the blue ceramic bowl in front of him. He cooed happily before digging in.

You asked Mando to wait some time before strapping the metallic layer of protection back on his thigh, but he refused.

The child appeared to be in a better mood now that his belly was full. You had to resist the urge to ask Mando if you could hold him. He was just too stinkin’ cute. You’d probably never let him go.

You lingered on the couch for an hour, staring at Mando entertaining his kid, before opting to get some fresh air in your backyard.

“Where are you going?” Mando questioned as he put his son on the couch and hurried over to you, standing in front of the sliding glass doors, blocking you from leaving the house.

You forced back an eye roll as you reminded yourself that he was only being cautious. There was no need to be rude to him. He merely wanted you to avoid getting killed by the pirate who had followed him to your house. From space.

“I need to grab my phone,” you explained as you pointed to the chair you were lounging in peacefully before he arrived, “Look— it’s just right there by the pool.”

“Fine,” he exhaled sharply after following your direction, eyeing the object, “Be quick. It isn’t safe yet.” He stepped aside after you nodded at him and you slid the door open, stepping out into your backyard.

You're not certain why, but on your way to the swimming pool, you kept track of how many steps you took. You’re astonished that you haven't done this before now. 31 steps in total from your house to your pool.

You bent over, snagging your cell phone from the small table, checking the time.

6:42pm

Today, time was flying by. It was almost time for dinner. You could probably cook dinner while you waited for this so-called pirate extraterrestrial to arrive. Sadly, you were no longer in the mood to make dinner. You could just order a pizza. Did they even eat pizza in space?

Your phone chimed, and after tapping the green icon to check your messages, you saw that you had received a new text from your friend and colleague Jaime, who was a highly qualified cardiothoracic surgeon. Due to the fact that you two worked so closely together on various urgent cases, it was inevitable that the two of you became great pals.

An appreciative smile formed at the corner of your mouth as you read Jaime’s message which reported that there was no code blue while she was on duty. This occurred once or twice a year, but it was always a cause for celebration. You typed out a few emoji’s before pressing send.

“Tulip, run!” Mando bellowed from inside the house.

You glanced at him in confusion. Who was tulip, you thought sardonically until it dawned on you. Your mouth fell open in a hushed O. He never asked for your name and you never offered it.

So, he took it upon himself to nickname you your favorite flower? Interesting.

You ignored the sudden fluttering of your heart and the warm flush that danced across your skin.

The boisterous warbling of another spaceship captured your attention. Despite being smaller than Mando’s, it was distinctly louder. Just a few feet away from Mando's, it landed, and out stepped the most outlandish space pirate you've ever seen. It was the first alien pirate you'd ever seen, so there was that, but the entrance was very lackluster.

“Tulip, come to me now!” Mando barked, unholstering his weapon and beckoning for you to come back inside to where he and the kid were.

The space pirate spotted you immediately and made a beeline for you. Your heart thumped against your rib cage as you tucked tail and ran back inside.

Running from a goddamn space pirate wasn’t on your 2023 bingo card.

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