#except someone once said shiv would go to

[abortionado]

Things that would instantly kill the Roy siblings

- one McDonalds chicken nugget

- a single hour at an American public high school

- a shot of fireball whiskey

- one day working in customer service

- setting foot on a public train at rush hour

[azzie89]

Gravity

(A Lukas Matsson Fanfic)

Warnings: the Roys being assholes; no smut in this until a further chapter

Chapter One

You were the baby Roy. You were another child between Logan and Caroline after they divorced. It was one night of relapse that led to you. You were only twenty-three as Kendall was turning forty.

It was hard being so much younger than your siblings. You grew up mostly alone considering your siblings were grown and moved out by the time you were old enough to make many memories. You were closest to Shiv just because of the closer age but even then you were apart. An ocean apart.

Shiv didn't really have any use for you. Shiv was concerned with being daddy's favorite just as all the rest of them (except Connor) which meant you were left alone. Even your parents ignored you.

Caroline went back to England and Logan was too concerned with the company. Plus, Logan had three successors before you. He didn't have any concern for you. Not really. But still he always liked to pull you back into his web just like everyone else. And of course you let him swallow you back up into the web because you were so starved for affection. It was pathetic.

But as of now, he had no use for you. As of now, you were the Roy that had dropped out of business school only a year ago (shortly after the wedding Shiv had). No one knew why except your father and he had shipped you off to Uncle Ewan, not wanting to deal with you, to live in the country.

It was peaceful. You liked it up there with no one to bother you, out in the country, and you felt like you could breathe. And your father contacted you a few times but phone calls never lasted more than a few minutes. It was almost like he didn't know how to deal with you (which he didn't) because he didn't want to broach the subject of what happened a year ago so he simply ignored it. It allowed you to ignore it, too. Almost.

But today you were going back to New York City. Kendall was having his birthday and you would not miss it. You hadn't missed a single one of your siblings' birthdays just on the off chance they might for once notice you, acknowledge you, have need of you. But they had not. It didn't mean you wouldn't continue to try.

So here you were. At his very weird birthday party where the entrance was their mother's vagina. Your eyes had never been so wide. Despite that shock, you continued on. You asked around for Kendall until you came to the tree house.

You smiled prettily, politely, at the security as you asked them to tell you where Kendall was. If they could please make an exception. And they did. You were surprised as you were led through the tree house and right to Kendall. You smiled again at the guard with the soft words of thank you on your lips. The guard was starstruck as he nodded.

The look went unnoticed by you, too blind, too innocent, as you walked forward happily towards your big brother, "Kendall!"

He had been talking to someone but you didn't much care. You were happy to see him. He blinked as he paused in whatever he was saying to stare at you in surprise.

"El?" he questioned.

He had stood and you had immediately hugged him, wrapping him in a tight hug, hoping he wouldn't let go as you smiled so brightly, "Happy birthday!"

Kendall peeled you off of him like you were an unwanted leper which the guest he was with noticed. And he noticed how your smile fell a bit as Kendall did so.

"Thanks, El, but I'm kind of busy right now," Kendall said.

"Oh," your eyes glanced at the blonde guest that you had no idea who he was but you thought he looked rather handsome before you directed your gaze back to Kendall.

"Wait, how did you even get in here?"

You smiled brightly again, "Your security let me in. He was nice."

You didn't notice the guest smile in amusement.

"He let..." Kendall blinked before he sighed. "Look, El. Thanks. Really. But..."

"It's cool," the mystery man that hadn't taken his eyes off you spoke and you noticed he had a Swedish accent. "She can stay."

"Alright. El, this is Lukas," Kendall introduced.

You smiled shyly with a small Hi but even with the small smile your dimples were on full display. You had always been shy at first but once you got to know someone you were sure to never let them go.

Lukas thought you were cute. Adorable. An easy target. He wanted you in his bed.

Kendall kind of pulled you to sit next to him as he talked to Lukas. You didn't listen. You never cared about business talk. You also had a habit of tuning out randomly and dissociating from reality.

"You gonna be okay, El?" Kendall squeezed her shoulder.

"What?" you were confused; he was already leaving you.

"Gotta mingle, El," he chuckled.

"Yeah. I'll be okay," you said and then he was gone, leaving you.

You sighed sadly and Lukas commented, "I didn't know my company could be such a buzzkill."

"Oh," you had almost forgotten he was there. "It's not you."

"I know."

"El?" He questioned.

"Ella," you informed him.

"Ella?" he grinned. "Like the fucking princess?"

"Well," you smiled shyly. "I get treated like one."

"I bet you do," he licked his lips and he stared at you intensely which made your cheeks redden.

Lukas raked his eyes over your frame. You wore a ponytail and your outfit consisted of a turtle-neck sweater tucked into high-waist jeans. But everything was skin-tight on you, letting him see all your curves. You were small with the tiniest waist. But your breasts were large for someone so tiny. He wanted you.

"Do you want to get a drink?" he asked.

You nodded and you both stood up together. For the first time, you noticed how tall he was. Your eyes widened as you blurted out, "You're really tall."

He grinned, "You're really tiny."

You blushed a bit as they headed towards the bar. He was like a giant behind you as he placed a hand on the small of your back while they walked to the bar.

You ordered a mimosa. You had never really liked anything besides mixed drinks that lessened the taste of alcohol. Alcohol was new to you and you had never been one to really misbehave so the instances of you drinking alcohol were few and far between.

He had ordered another beer and the two of you stayed at the bar. His hand didn't move from the small of your back. In fact, his finger was lazily drawing shapes on your back. You didn't tell him to stop. It felt nice. You wouldn't admit that you were touch-starved.

"So, did my brother have some business with you or something?" you asked, cluelessly.

"You weren't listening?"

"It's rude to eavesdrop," you pouted as you shook your head.

"So it is," he grinned before he leaned in close, too close as he spoke. "I have business with your father."

"So what does my father want from you?" you turned towards him and although you had short legs, he did not. Your knees kept brushing.

"My company," He ever so discreetly prodded a knee to slot between your legs. He seemed so calm while internally your heart was racing and a blush crept up your cheeks warm, hot, and blazing.

You put your half-empty drink down, deciding it would only make your cheeks even more red. You had turned your head away from him, too afraid to look, trying to hide your very red cheeks.

You didn't expect him to lean in to whisper into your ear, his breath fanning out across your neck, "Do you want to get out of here?"

"And go where?" you asked curiously.

"Back to my place."

"To do what?" you peeked at him.

"I have trouble sleeping," his suggestive grin grew. "And I think you could help me."

"Like you can't sleep without someone laying next to you?"

He blinked at you. Were you serious? Did you really not know what he was referring to? And the answer was yes, you did not know.

"You should get a dog," you suggested.

"What?"

"A dog. If you need someone to sleep beside you, a dog could fix it," she informed. "I always wanted a dog. I had one once. Hid him in my room for a week before anyone noticed. Then he got out of my room and peed on the carpet. My dad was...mad. I cried and pleaded but...my dad got rid of him."

"It took him a week to notice?"

"Well...yes," you admitted.

He shook his head at the absurdity. How could someone so beautiful be ignored? It did not make any sense.

"Do you want another dog?" he asked before he joked. "I'm sure your brother has one stashed around here somewhere in this fucking monstrosity."

You giggled and it was like music to his fucking ears before you spoke, "This whole thing really is bad, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

And the night went on with them talking. Well, mostly you talked and he listened as you drank more. And his knee would inch closer to you between your legs but you were convinced that he did not know what he was doing. You chose to play it cool and ignore it even though you were hyperaware of his every movement. And his fingers still drew patterns on your back as you sat beside him making you lean into his touch slightly. You liked it. You liked him.

Your lips formed a dazed smile. You were a lightweight and alcohol made you really happy. Your eyes were droopy, though. Your mind would crash later.

You mumbled with that intoxicated smile, "You're nice."

"Am I?" he smirked a bit.

"Yeah," you smiled before frowning a bit. "No one ever listens to me."

"With such a pretty fucking voice?" he raised his eyebrows.

She giggled, "No one's ever said that to me."

"No?"

"No," she confessed as she bit her lip and you looked away in thought.

His crystal blue eyes were intently focused on you now. On your lips but you didn't notice. But then the two of you were interrupted by your brother, Roman.

You had jumped up at the sight of him and happily hugged him, "Roman!"

"Oh. Wow. So you're in town. Great," he patted your back awkwardly. "Welcome back."

Roman removed himself from your hold and immediately took your seat you had left as he talked to Lukas, "So there you are. Hiding from me like a human VPN and getting cozy with my sister, uh?"

Lukas stared at him coldly as he took a sip of his beer, "Yeah. We're comfortable."

"Not so comfortable now obviously," his tone was clipped and annoyed as Lukas turned his eyesight back to you.

You looked dejected. You stood there and realized you had nowhere to sit now that Roman took your chair. You sighed and he leaned in, whispering as he offered, "You want to sit in my lap?"

"You wouldn't mind?" you chewed on your lip in consideration. You didn't want to be a burden as that was all you ever were.

"No," he grinned a bit before he grabbed you by placing his hands on your waist and lifting you easily to sit on his lap. You situated yourself to sit comfortably, not realizing it caused a dilemma as Lukas inhaled deeply once your ass brushed slightly against his crotch.

"Thanks," you muttered sweetly as you turned your head slightly to look at him. He nodded his head.

"Look, you can totally be 'comfortable' with my sister later," Roman said with air quotes around comfortable. You squinted your eyes at the meaning of that.

"Can I?" Lukas grinned.

"Yeah. Whatever," Roman shrugged.

"What are you trying to say?" you didn't understand. "We're friends or...we're going to be. Of course, we're comfortable."

Lukas couldn't help but grin softly. Roman rolled his eyes, "Do you ever realize how dumb you are?"

You gained a hurt look in your eyes as you pouted. Lukas straightened in his seat and his tone was cold, "Let's not insult your sister, ja?"

"Yeah. Sure..."

And Roman started to talk business. You tuned out of whatever they were saying. You didn't notice Lukas started to play with the ends of your hair, twirling it around his fingers, as he barely listened to your brother.

His other hand was on the edge of the bar and you grabbed it. You played with his fingers in your lap before tracing the lines of his palm. You giggled a bit at the fact that he had no love line. No love for Lukas, you made a joke in your head.

Lukas was gazing at you intently, trying to figure out what you were thinking. You were a complete mystery to him and far from boring.

"If she's apart of the deal in some capacity, will you consider it?" Roman asked.

"You can tell your father I'll be apart of the conversation," Lukas said, wanting to get him to leave.

"Great. I'll take that," Roman smiled like he won the lottery and he got up to leave. "El."

You tuned back in and Roman was giving you a look, telling you he wanted to talk. As he started to leave, you got up to follow.

"It was nice to meet you," you smiled politely at Lukas before leaning in and giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

He grinned, "We'll meet again."

His look was intense and you blushed, nodding, before you scurried off after Roman. Roman grabbed your arm once you caught up and pulled you into a more private area.

"I didn't know you could play dirty, little sis," Roman said.

"What are you talking about, Roman?"

"Come on. You show up and suddenly Matsson is all over you. Were you gonna blow him tonight to get the deal and become Daddy's favorite? Or were you just gonna let him ass-fuck you in that chair?"

"I-What? Roman, ew," you blinked in confusion. "What is wrong with you? I just met him."

Your nose scrunched at the thought and Roman rolled his eyes, "Oh, yeah. I forgot. There is no such thing as fucking a stranger and absolutely no one does that ever."

"Well, I. Do. Not," you clarified.

"What? You didn't think about his dick at all while you were sitting on it? Don't be such a prude," Roman said. "Now, go back to Matsson. Tell him you'll fuck him if he takes the deal. Tell him I sent you."

You stared at him in disbelief and shook your head, "Roman, I am not a sex toy that can be bought and sold. I'm your sister."

"Yeah, so do your big brother a favor and take him home. He was giving you fuck me eyes the whole time. He'll be overjoyed."

"He was not giving me...eyes," you were flustered. "He was just being nice since you were so rude."

"Wait," he smiled. "You actually believe that?"

You were silent and he started to laugh. You huffed before storming past him, planning to leave, with your cheeks feeling like they were on fire. And you still did not believe what Roman was suggesting.

AN: I have more chapters on Wattpad currently by the way

[jeniffercheck]

i dare you (you're gonna fall, but i'll catch you)

shivlina tumblr prompt: five times someone notices shivlina acting odd and one time they're honest about it

words: 5k

read here or on ao3

v.

Roman’s a good brother.

When Shiv tells him she’s getting a divorce, he expects it to be the end of the world. He expects the waterworks and the flamethrowers, blaring tornado sirens, and a news broadcast to alert the entire city, because that’s how much his sister loves to milk her fucking tragedy of a life, and he’s ready for it. Don’t get it twisted; he does the nice thing. He sends her a stupid e-card with a series of explosions over his favorite paparazzi shot of Tom eating a street-cart pretzel and offers to spread a rumor around the office that Tom caught chlamydia from the linebacker on his college football team, and even though Shiv vetoes the latter offer, Roman still considers spreading it anyway because that’s how good of a brother he is.

He’s so good in fact, that he knows his condolence strategy must have worked, because it’s been six days since the last time Shiv verbally assaulted him, and nearly nine since the last time she’d physically assaulted him. It must’ve been his handiwork, because there’s no conceivable way that his sister would be going through a divorce and not making it everyone else’s problem, right?

After the eighth day of calm, Roman can’t take it anymore. He corners Shiv in her office, the golden plaque reading President of Domestic Operations looking far too shiny for his liking. He grabs at it just to add a little smudge.

“Could you not?” Shiv asks, glaring in his direction. Her gaze immediately falls back on her cell phone, the brief annoyance gone almost as quickly as Roman had provoked it.

“Not even a fuck you?” Roman asks, dropping into one of the chairs in front of her desk. “I see where I stand these days.”

Except Shiv doesn’t even hear him. She laughs at her phone, that stupid smile on her face growing in a way that makes him want to throw up and ask to be let in on the joke all at once.

“What’s got you perkier than Kendall in a Kith apothecary?”

Shiv looks up, scowl returned, and he thinks it feels something like a hug, if that were something he and Shiv ever really did.

“Did you want something, or did you just come in here to fill my office up with your stink?” she asks, and Roman feels a sense of relief at the volatility.

“I wanted to know what you were looking at,” Roman says, tapping his fingers on the desk.

“You came all the way down here to ask what’s on my phone?”

“That is what I said, right?” Roman asks. “Who are you talking to?”

Shiv raises an eyebrow at the question.

“Uh—no one, Rome,” she says, albeit unconvincingly.

“Sure,” Roman says. “So, you’re just laughing at cat videos and not another one of the texts that just came through on your phone?”

Roman tries to peer over the desk, but Shiv covers up her phone up her phone quickly. She’s hiding something.

“Roman, I’m not—“ Shiv cuts herself off. “You know you’re the only one who knows, right?”

“Am I?”

“Well, are you?” she asks. “Or is Tabitha sending me dating show casting calls just for shits and giggles?”

“She’s been doing that?” Roman whines. Disappointing. He wanted to do that. “I’m just saying, you’ve been acting…” He waves his hands around, Shiv’s brows furrowing deeper.

“What is this, are you trying to invent a secret language that nobody else knows?” she asks, eyes flitting between her phone and Roman as it dings, again.

“Don’t you have a job to be doing?” he says.

“Don’t you?”

Okay. Touché.

“This is my job,” Roman says. “I’m the Chief Operational Officer. I’m chiefing your operations.”

“Uh-huh,” Shiv says. “In that case, domestic operations are going well. Public opinion polls are up by two points, and I have a meeting with Karolina later today to discuss next steps. Any other operational matters I can see to for you today, Mr. Roy?”

“Okay, okay,” Roman says, waving her off, though one name in her report stood out greatly. “You and Karolina have been spending a lot of time together.”

“You and Gerri spend a lot of time together.”

Roman leans back in the chair, “She’s my mentor.”

“I can’t have a mentor?” Shiv asks.

Roman eyes her. If she’s telling the truth, then that means Shiv isn’t anything to worry about.

“So, you want PR?” Roman asks. “Not CEO?”

“What I want, is a reality where you’re not riding my ass every ten minutes,” Shiv says. It’s a non-answer, Roman’s not a dumbass, but at least he’s closer to the truth. Shiv’s divorce doesn’t matter because she’s got her hat in the ring. And Karolina’s backing her.

“Fine, fine, I’m going,” Roman says, standing. He pauses at the door, knowing he needs to throw her off his line of questioning. “Are you ovulating?”

“What?” Shiv asks, and if looks could kill, Roman would certainly be six feet under.

“Just asking,” Roman says. “You’re, like, glowy.”

“Fuck off,” Shiv says.

Roman doesn’t have to be told twice. Gerri’s going to get a kick out of this.

iv.

Kendall’s not paranoid.

A little bit obsessive? Sure. Hungry for power? He can own up to that. Good at making enemies? Most definitely. But paranoid? Absolutely not. This, however; it just doesn’t make any sense.

“What are you saying, Shiv?” he asks. On a normal day, she’d be at his throat, telling him that all of his ideas are bad ones and that it’s all going to crash and burn. On a normal day.

“That…I think it’s a good idea?” Shiv says, turning her head at him slowly. “Did you want me to scream and cry and tell you I hate it?”

“I mean—no,” Kendall says. “I guess, I just, expected a little pushback. That’s all.”

Shiv shrugs, a loose hand around her coffee mug. She’d sat next to Kendall in the conference room instead of across from him, unnerving coming from a woman who can oftentimes barely look in his direction.

“I read the notes you sent last night, and they make sense,” Shiv says. “No need to reinvent the wheel, here. Your plan is better.”

Which sounds exactly like something someone else would be telling her to say, and that can only mean one of two things. Shiv’s playing the game, or Dad’s putting her up to it.

“Is that a Karolina line?” Kendall asks, watching every minuscule movement of Shiv’s face. First she pauses—caught off guard, then her eyes narrow. She’s not looking at him anymore.

“I—a what?”

That’s it. “They’re feeding you lines, aren’t they?” Kendall says, standing up. “Unbelievable, this is—just, great, Shiv. Really, it’s great.”

Shiv rolls her eyes, coffee mug forgotten.

“Yeah, Kendall, I’m fucking wiretapped and the feds are bursting in here any minute to nab you for cruises. This is all actually just a ruse and you’ve been trained your whole life to take the fall for this one moment, you caught us,” she says.

“I’m serious, Shiv—if this is a setup—”

“I’m not lying, Ken, Jesus,” Shiv says. “I read the plan and I thought about it. That’s what you fucking wanted me to do, right? Can you accept that before I fuckin’ change my mind?”

It still doesn’t feel right. Shiv’s never given into one of Kendall’s ideas this easily and willingly in her life. He’s sure Karolina had something to do with it, and by extension their dad, but he also wants to believe Shiv, which he won’t, but he can pretend to at the very least.

“Fine,” Kendall says. “Okay, great, um—thank you, Shiv.”

“Sure,” Shiv says. “And, by the way—Karolina’s not, feeding me lines, or whatever you think. God, you and Roman, you’re like, fucking irrational.”

“Yeah, no, of course not,” Kendall says. “The mind games, they’re—you know.”

“Yeah, sure,” Shiv says.

He leaves the meeting feeling entirely and unequivocally unsatisfied. Roman wouldn’t be his first source of confidante on a bad day, but he has no one else to trust, and he’s the only other person who could possibly want Shiv in the CEO seat any less than Kendall.

“Hey, Roman—“ he says, entering Roman’s office. “Is Shiv, like, I mean—is there something…off?”

Roman stands up, looking out the windows of his office before turning back to Kendall and crossing his arms.

“You didn’t hear it from me,” Roman says lowly, “but I heard she’s ovulating.”

Kendall looks up, Roman’s dead serious.

“You mean—her and Tom?”

“Like jackrabbits,” Roman says.

“Gross, dude.”

Roman throws his hands up in the air.

“You asked.”

 

iii.

Karolina doesn’t get distracted. Gerri knows that much.

She knows a lot, in fact, such as Karolina’s educational background: a summa cum laude BA in Public Relations and an ivy league MS in Strategic Communication. Karolina’s career path: Assistant at a crisis management firm, Account Manager for a think tank, and then a Manager at Waystar—merged into Waystar Royco shortly after. Karolina’s consistent weekend plans: drop off her dry cleaning early on Saturday morning, pick up breakfast from her favorite cafe on the way back, work into the evening, pick up dry cleaning and groceries on Sunday, watch trash reality TV until she falls asleep, meet Gerri early in the office on Monday morning to drink coffee and sync (Karolina’s missed the last two Mondays). And Gerri knows all about Karolina’s dating history: the broody painter in college, the personal accountant in her twenties, the short-lived engagement to the non-profit president in her thirties. The absence that’s followed.

Yeah. Gerri knows a lot—and she certainly knows that Karolina doesn’t get distracted. So, it’s a mystery to her why she’s now received two press reports, riddled with mistakes. She would chalk it up to delegation—maybe Karolina’s giving some baby-faced assistants a chance, or she’s been fed conflicting information along the chain of command—but these are high-level, directly from Karolina, and directly her mistakes to make. Karolina’s lucky it’s Gerri who’s receiving them first, because they’re a liability, is what they are, and anyone else in the office wouldn’t be as tactful about it as Gerri’s choosing to be.

She calls Karolina in for a meeting over lunch. Low pressure, familiar territory, but even then, Karolina is quieter than usual. She’s not quite pensive as much as she is splitting, her mind obviously going in multiple directions at once. She's having trouble keeping up with Gerri’s conversation, only vaguely remembering details that Gerri has already told her and not quite adding anything substantial to the conversation unless provoked, her eyes occasionally dropping to her turned-over phone on the chair arm beside her.

Gerri decides to bite the bullet.

“Is everything alright?” she asks, stopping herself in the middle of a sordid tale about Frank and Karl’s latest excursion in Shareholder-Land. “You seem preoccupied lately.”

Karolina’s reaction is verification enough, the surprise and sudden discomfort apparent all over her body, but physical tells mean nothing to Gerri when it comes to Karolina. Her tell, is that Karolina has told her nothing, when by now, Gerri should know everything.

“I mean, yeah,” Karolina says, sitting up straighter. “There’s a lot going on. You know how it is.”

“I know how it is, sure,” Gerri says, unconvinced. She pulls out the press releases, red ink splattered all over the pages, “Wanna tell me about these, though?”

“Oh,” Karolina says, grabbing the pages from Gerri. “Your notes?”

Gerri nods, and Karolina looks down at the pages, brows instantly furrowing in concentration. Gerri watches the head tilts and the squinted eyes, the mouthing of words as Karolina silently reads lines back to herself, the constant switching between pages to fully grasp the inconsistencies and the contradictions. Her back is stiffer when she’s finished, and she stares at the pages.

“Um, good—” Karolina says, moving to clean up her belongings. “Thanks, Gerri. I’ll fix these up and get them back to you.”

“Karolina,” Gerri says, and Karolina pauses, albeit a little unwillingly, staring back at Gerri expectantly. “I’m going to ask again, is everything alright?”

Karolina crosses her arms, a feigned innocence on her face. “Yes, Ger—everything’s fine. These are just stupid mistakes, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not scolding you,” Gerri says, because they’re in the office, and these are serious mistakes, and while Karolina is her subordinate, she’s also her friend. “I’m just checking in. This isn’t like you.”

Gerri watches the internal battle as it happens, Karolina running through every scenario and calculating the results of each possible course of action. It’s always a roll of the dice with Karolina, but Gerri at least knows that if she doesn’t get the answer out of Karolina today, she will get it out of her eventually.

“I guess I have been preoccupied,” Karolina admits. “But, you know…things are good.”

“Things are good?” Gerri confirms, and Karolina smiles slightly as she nods.

“Things are really good,” Karolina says. Gerri has no reason to not believe her, and also knows it’s not the time to press further.

“Okay,” Gerri concedes. “Then, make sure the next versions of those releases aren’t going to make us liable for libel in seven different nations, alright?”

“Message received,” Karolina says.

Gerri nods, partially satiated with the outcome of the meeting, and she’s about to send Karolina off when Shiv pokes her head through the door. Gerri feels dense for not seeing it before. The extra meetings. Shiv’s recent agreeable attitude toward Gerri. The way Karolina bites her lip if only to stop her smile from growing, and the laser focus of her eyes. Shiv’s mischievous smirk. Of course. Karolina’s fucking lovesick.

“Hey, sorry if I’m interrupting,” Shiv says. “Can I steal Karolina?”

“Seeing as neither of us owns her, I don’t see why not,” Gerri says, and Karolina clears her throat, nervous.

“Great,” Shiv says, then to Karolina, “I’ll be in my office.”

Karolina nods, as Shiv exits, picking up the rest of her things.

“Karolina?” Gerri calls out, stopping her at the door.

“Yeah?”

“Remember,” Gerri warns. “Liability.”

The instant flush of Karolina’s face is the only confirmation she needs.

ii.

The event is nice, but Willa’s not much into the family business.

She finds it monotonous to stand around and listen to a bunch of legacy businessmen discuss stocks and market trends and, God forbid, politics, like they’re all the second coming of Jordan Belfort himself. She hates the way they all look down on Connor as if he isn’t the only Roy heir who doesn’t need Daddy’s company, and she really hates the way they all look down on her as if she’s some mail-order bride who couldn’t understand the first thing about the economy, but she does really enjoy the people-watching, and those cucumber finger sandwiches that rich people love, and the expensive dresses she gets to buy that are most definitely integral to stimulating the fucking economy. And she especially loves eavesdropping, even more so when it’s Connor’s brothers discussing what’s up with Shiv, going on and on about Shiv and Karolina and their two-woman coup as if the real answer isn’t glaringly obvious.

“I’m telling you, dude,” Kendall says, pointing his glass towards Roman, “she’s scheming.”

“Come on, Shiv?” Connor chimes in. “She’s done just fine on her own all these years. What does she need from pops?”

“What do any of us need from him, Con?” Roman jeers. “She’s obviously changed her mind. She wants the big seat.”

“What, and Karolina’s helping her?” Connor asks. “She’s a wonderful woman, really, but what does our People Magazine liaison have over who’s going to be the next Chief Executive?”

“She’s Head of Communications, Connor,” Kendall says. “It’s, like, her whole job to communicate. If she’s on Shiv’s side, she could already be swaying public opinion and in the internal memos. We’re fucked.”

Willa doesn’t like to step in often, but this is a bit much. “Wouldn’t you be able to, like, see if she were doing that?”

All three men pause, eyes now on her. Roman seems to be considering her point, but Connor jumps to Kendall’s defense.

“I’ve read about this. Psychological Operations are very difficult to recognize, even when you know they’re occurring. The Romans used flaming pigs to scare off Egyptian war elephants that would eventually trample their own troops.” He claps his hands together. “That’s it. You need to figure out Shiv’s flaming pig.”

“My what?”

The next few moments are very important to Willa’s observations. First, Shiv shows up alone. Not with Tom, not with the old guard, alone. Then, after confusing and awkward greetings between Roman trying to make pig jokes, Kendall stammering his way through an apology, and Connor desperately trying to explain Ancient Roman Flaming Pigs, Shiv immediately asks if any of them have seen Karolina. Shiv’s meeting her. Willa has to hide a knowing smile behind her champagne, her amusement only exacerbated by the panicked look in both Kendall and Roman’s eyes. Then, the best thing possible occurs.

Gerri and Karolina walk up to the group.

At first, Willa thinks her theory is toast. They all greet one another with the kind of cordial professionalism anyone would expect, and Shiv’s reaction to Karolina isn’t anything out of the ordinary. That is until Roman pulls the group into a conversation about how Logan really isn’t going to like the menu and wants, “to know who’s going to break the news to the kitchen staff that they have just over an hour to source a cod from Massachusetts itself or face getting a review that will surely destroy their yearly earnings for at least three more event seasons,” and Shiv, under the impression that nobody is paying attention, takes the opportunity to whisper something in Karolina’s ear.

Willa watches as Shiv’s hand meets the small of Karolina’s back while they catch up, and Willa immediately tugs on Connor, nodding slightly in their direction. He’s confused at first, and Willa, not wanting to cause a scene, first tries pulling a face, and upon an unsuccessful charade, spells it out for Connor quietly in his ear.

“That’s?” he whispers back, and Willa nods, downing a sip of champagne in excitement.

“Wow,” Connor says out loud, and Willa winces as the entire group looks at him.

“What is it?” Kendall asks, and Connor flounders with a series of sounds that could possibly count as English, Willa immediately jumping in over him.

“It’s just, so sad…that Logan might have to eat…salmon,” Willa says, internally cringing at the save, but grateful that none of them think highly enough of her to see it as anything out of the ordinary.

“It’s devastating,” Gerri deadpans. “Come on, boys. Let’s go save the day.”

Gerri stalks off, herding Roman and Kendall like two little ducklings who have no choice but to follow the leader, and it leaves Willa and Connor with Shiv and Karolina.

“I’m going to get a drink,” Karolina says to Shiv. “Do you want anything?”

“Uh, I’ll meet you at the bar,” Shiv says, and her eyebrows raise, a silent communication between the two women that Willa isn’t supposed to be privy to. She lets Shiv and Connor catch up, not missing the way Shiv’s eyes flicker in the direction of the bar area every thirty seconds or so, and after the fourth time Willa tugs on Connor’s jacket discreetly, it taking everything in her not to fucking spit out her champagne at the way he decides to close the conversation.

“You know, Shiv, it’s perfectly natural to experience a broader emotional undertaking as you continue to age,” Connor says. “I mean, sometimes I look at Tom Brady…and I wonder.”

Shiv, rightfully confused, looks to Willa for clarity, and Willa can only offer a sympathetic smile as they lock eyes.

“Great, Connor,” Shiv says. “Thank you, for…sharing.”

“Of course, honey,” Connor says. “Enjoy the party.”

Shiv walks away, and Willa has half a mind to tail her just for the entertainment of it all, but she figures Shiv is owed some privacy, not that she and Karolina are doing an exceptional job at hiding whatever it is that they have going on.

“Was that too obvious?” Connor asks, worry lines on his face. Willa can’t help it as she looks in Shiv’s direction one more time, spotting her and Karolina by the bar, clearly enraptured with one another.

“No, Con,” she says. “That was perfect.”

 

i.

Karolina notices two things as she walks into her apartment. Shiv Roy looks exceptionally beautiful under the soft light of dawn, and Karolina’s feet fucking hurt. She sighs in relief as she sits down on her couch, undoing the heel straps that had been cutting into her ankles all night. Shiv follows suit, looking tired, flushed, and still slightly giggly from a terrible story Karolina had told her about a college bet and a game of darts, and Karolina leans back into the couch, unable to take her eyes off of Shiv.

“It’s late,” Karolina says, though the words don’t really go anywhere. They hang, with no meaning behind them.

“So?” Shiv asks, because she knows they’re empty too. Karolina, always searching for reasons.

“The late nights—I’ve been slacking off at work,” Karolina says. “People are starting to notice.”

People, meaning Gerri, but she’s the worst person of all to have on your ass. Shiv frowns slightly, her gaze concerned.

“If helping me is too much…” Shiv says, trailing off. Her hand rests in the empty space between them, extended, but not making contact. “I’ll be fine, Karolina. It’s not my first rodeo.”

“No, I know,” Karolina says, her hand itching to meet Shiv’s in the middle. “I don’t mind it. I just need to stay focused on my own work as well.”

And it’s hard, when Shiv is in her apartment. When Shiv is in her office. When Shiv is Shiv. And Karolina is Karolina.

“Okay,” Shiv says, her head nodding in support. “Care to explain why this is important for me to know on a Saturday night, though?”

“Maybe it’s a sort of preamble?” Karolina says.

“To?”

Karolina sucks in a nervous breath. “Have you noticed people—acting funny?”

Shiv looks away momentarily, lightly shrugging.

“Maybe,” she says, but then her eyes return to Karolina’s, narrowing. “Why, is something going on?”

“I mean, is there, Shiv?” Karolina asks. “It’s three in the morning and you’re in my apartment. For the third time this week.”

Shiv, to her credit, just looks deeply confused.

“If you want me to leave, I can,” she says, and it’s that moment that Karolina finally grabs her hand. They both look down as she does.

“No,” she says. “No, I—I don’t want you to leave, Shiv. That’s the thing. I’d really like it if you stayed, but—”

“But?” Shiv’s eyes are still on their hands, making no move to separate.

“But,” Karolina says, steadying herself. “Are we—I mean, what are we doing, Shiv?”

“We’re sitting on your couch,” Shiv says, and Karolina moves closer.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

Shiv pauses, searching Karolina’s eyes for something to latch onto. “What do you want to be doing?” Shiv asks.

Karolina considers all of the options before her. She could choose a distant friendship, or a professional mentorship. She could choose nothing, and effectively ice Shiv out, or, she could choose honesty. Choose the thing that snuck up on her. The thing she should’ve known all along.

“I want to kiss you,” Karolina admits, and she holds her breath as she waits for Shiv’s response.

“Then kiss me.”

 

vi.

“It’s disgusting,” Roman says, leaning against the wall. His eyes are scanning the room of the party, just a little New Year get-together for Royco & family, Gerri beside him, sipping a martini.

“What is?” Gerri asks.

“How nice she makes Shiv,” Roman says. Gerri follows his eyes, landing on the couple across the room, Shiv and Karolina attached at the hip. Karolina laughs animatedly at something someone in the group has said, and Shiv watches her with an adoring expression, her hand rubbing along the top of Karolina’s back before it settles around Karolina’s waist.

“They’re happy,” Gerri says, like it explains anything at all. Roman thinks it doesn’t make it any less gross.

“They sent me and Tabs an anniversary bouquet,” Roman says. “Shiv doesn’t even send me a card on my birthday.”

“Shouldn’t that be a good thing?” Gerri asks, and Roman immediately shakes his head.

“Karolina’s making her a softy,” Roman says, eyeing Gerri as she laughs.

“Karolina, making Shiv a softy?” Gerri says. “Shiv’s making Karolina a softy.”

“What?” Roman says. “Shiv doesn’t have a soft bone in her body. She’s quite literally physically incapable of being soft, yet somehow Karolina has done it.”

“And Karolina wouldn’t know soft if it hit her like a stone,” Gerri says. “She used to eat interns for lunch, and now she lets them hide in her office when they cry.”

Roman looks at Gerri, her own softness still up for question, and she pulls a face.

“What?”

“Are we bitter?” Roman asks.

Gerri sips her martini thoughtfully. “I’m not bitter. I’m happy for them.”

“Right,” Roman says. “And Dad’s signing over the entire company to me tomorrow.”

Gerri rolls her eyes. It hurts him that she has such little faith in his aptitude.

“In any case,” Gerri sighs, “it’s just a honeymoon phase. It’ll pass.”

“It’s been eight months,” Roman says, head still turned in Gerri’s direction. She shrugs and then stands up straighter.

“Don’t look now,” she says, and Roman does look, Shiv and Karolina headed right in their direction.

“Speak of the devil,” Roman says as the pair arrives in front of them.

“Good things?” Shiv asks, and Roman smiles.

“You know me, sis. I just love waxing about your achievements.”

“I bet,” Shiv says, smiling in return, and then her aim switches to Gerri. “Speaking of achievements, Gerri, I owe a favor to someone begging for an introduction. Can I have five minutes?”

Gerri quirks an eyebrow at Karolina, and Karolina nods as if to say, humor her, and while Roman wishes Karolina would just say it out loud, Gerri gives in easily enough. “Lead the way.” Jesus Christ. Gerri’s a fucking softy too.

Shiv squeezes Karolina’s arm before she goes off with Gerri, and Roman has to hold back a gag as they speak with their eyes, Karolina’s gaze not leaving Shiv as she takes Gerri’s place against the wall. This should be fun.

“Where’s Tabitha?” Karolina asks.

“Showing face at her family’s event,” Roman says. “They’re a bunch of centrists who parade around as progressives. Think the ATN clan is beneath her.”

Karolina nods, apparently all out of small talk apart from that one question, and Roman wishes he had any excuse to leave the spot he’s been glued to. The air is much too awkward for his liking, so he attempts to fill the silence.

“Thanks for the flowers,” he says.

“It was Shiv’s idea,” Karolina says, and Roman doesn’t think he’s ever turned his head to look at someone else so quickly before.

What?

“Okay,” he says, unable to stop a laugh from escaping him, “what have you done with the real Shiv? Is she locked in your basement somewhere? Did you replace her with some Brooklynite who fits your lesbian agenda?”

Karolina scoffs, though if he were looking closely, he’d swear she seems vaguely amused. “It was just a gesture, Roman.”

He shakes his head. Shiv doesn’t do gestures unless they’re violent and skin-breaking.

“You’re ruining her.”

“I’m ruining her,” Karolina laughs. “She was right. We should’ve sent a free session of sex therapy.”

Roman’s glass pauses at his lips. If Karolina wants to get dirty, well, Roman would love to test out how much of a softy she is.

“If anyone needs sex therapy, it’s Shiv,” Roman says. “Did she tell you her body count? It’s in the hundreds. Truly tainted, I mean, I’m surprised you’re even with her. Unless, you know—is that something people your age are still interested in?”

Karolina, interestingly, doesn’t seem phased. Maybe a little surprised, but unflinching in a way that Roman hadn’t expected. Maybe this will be fun.

“Do you ever think of anything other than your sister having sex?”

“It’s a little hard not to when you’re constantly shoving it in our faces,” Roman says. “I mean, seriously, I’m worried I’m going to get conjunctivitis from all of the secondhand eyefucking.”

“So, to be clear, you’re admitting that you purposefully watch us eyefuck long enough to receive an infection?”

“I’m saying you’re gross,” Roman huffs. “And you’re making my sister gloopy. Pulpous and squishy like a marshmallow.”

“Okay, Roman,” Karolina laughs to herself, and he can’t stand the sound of her perceived victory.

“Can you two even kiss when you get married?” he asks. “There are going to be children around, you know. Ideally, they shouldn’t find out about lesbian porn until at least middle school.”

He expects a comeback quickly, her wit proven to be able to keep up with his own, and he almost thinks he’s finally won when she speaks up.

“You think she’d marry me?” Karolina asks, voice quiet, the sharpness gone.

Roman sighs, swirling his drink around in his glass.

“I mean, you’re no grand prize, but—whatever. She’s, like, happier with you, I guess,” Roman says. “And I’ve never seen her willingly eyefuck someone for this long in a room full of strangers, so. Maybe you’re the real deal. Who knows.”

He avoids Karolina’s gaze and attempts to wash away his momentary lapse of sincerity with what’s left in his glass, silently praying for Gerri to return to put him out of his misery for once and for all. He seems to be in luck, though, because Karolina’s phone dings, and when Roman sneaks a look, it’s Dad’s name on the ID, a call she can’t ignore.

“Is there anyone in this family who doesn’t have you completely whipped?” Roman asks.

Karolina looks at him.

“I mean, you can keep dreaming, Roman,” Karolina says. “I know you like to do that.”

She smiles, and then walks off, leaving Roman alone on the wall.

Fine. Maybe it’s not Karolina who’s soft.

[shelbymalfoy23]

**Title of this story is called: "Draco malfoy and the Serpents of Steel Fanfiction & pov Draco malfoy series. "**

---

**Chapter 1: A Chance Encounter**

Shelby was no stranger to the dark and dangerous. As the daughter of a wealthy, powerful family with deep ties to the wizarding world, she was raised to be cunning, resilient, and fiercely independent. But when she transferred to Hogwarts for her final year, she was determined to keep a low profile. The war was over, but the shadows of the past still lingered in the corridors of the ancient school.

On her first day, she found herself lost in the labyrinthine dungeons. The damp air clung to her skin as she navigated the narrow passages, trying to find her way back to the Great Hall. She turned a corner and collided with someone—a tall, pale boy with sharp features and cold, grey eyes. His Slytherin robes swept around him as he steadied himself.

"Watch where you're going," he snapped, his voice dripping with disdain.

Shelby straightened, her own blue eyes flashing with defiance. "Maybe you should watch where you're standing."

The boy smirked, an expression that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Do you know who I am?"

"Should I care?" she shot back, her heart pounding. She recognized him, of course—Draco Malfoy, the infamous Slytherin prince, who had been at the center of so much during the war.

"Malfoy Draco Malfoy," he said, as if his name was an answer to her challenge.

"And I'm shelby" she replied coolly, refusing to be intimidated. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to find my way out of this dungeon."

Draco's smirk softened, just a fraction. "You're new, aren't you?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "Transferred from Beauxbatons."

He raised an eyebrow. "Impressive. Why Hogwarts?"

"Family reasons," Shelby said curtly, not wanting to divulge more. "Do you know the way back to the Great Hall or not?"

Draco considered her for a moment before nodding. "Follow me."

As they walked in silence, Shelby couldn't help but steal glances at him. His reputation preceded him—once a Death Eater, now supposedly reformed. But there was something else in his eyes, a weight of guilt and regret that he couldn't quite hide.

When they reached the Great Hall, Draco paused. "There you go. Try not to get lost again."

Shelby rolled her eyes but gave him a grudging nod of thanks. "I'll manage."

As he turned to leave, something made him stop. He looked back at her, as if seeing her for the first time. "Shelby… I'll remember that name for the rest of my life." He smirked as he said to himself.

---

**Chapter 2: A Growing Connection**

Over the next few weeks, Shelby tried to keep her distance from Draco. She had no interest in becoming entangled with someone like him—someone with a past as dark as her own family's secrets. But Hogwarts had a way of drawing unlikely people together, and she found herself crossing paths with him more often than she would have liked.

One evening, after a particularly grueling Potions class, she stayed behind to finish her work. The classroom was empty, except for Draco, who was meticulously cleaning his cauldron.

"Stubborn potion," she muttered, trying to perfect her brew.

Draco glanced over at her, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Need help?"

Shelby narrowed her eyes. "Why would you offer anyways Draco?"

He shrugged. "Maybe I enjoy a challenge." He said to her softly

She hesitated, then nodded. "Fine. But if you mess it up, it's on you."

To her surprise, Draco was a skilled potioneer. He made a few adjustments to her ingredients and technique, and soon, the potion was perfect. Shelby couldn't help but be impressed.

"Thanks," she said, genuinely.

Draco nodded, looking at her with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. "You're different, Shelby I liked that about you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is that supposed to be a compliment Draco?"

"Maybe." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You're not like the others. You're… stronger then i thought."

Shelby felt a shiver run down her spine. "And you're not as heartless as you pretend to be Draco."

Draco's smile faded, and for a moment, the mask he wore slipped. "You have no idea who I really am shelby."

"Maybe not," Shelby admitted. "But I see you, Draco. I see the real you."

---

**Chapter 3: Breaking Down Walls**

As the months passed, Shelby and Draco grew closer, drawn to each other by a shared understanding of darkness and redemption. They spent hours talking in the quiet corners of the castle, sharing their fears, their regrets, and their hopes for a future free from the shadows of their pasts.

But their relationship was not without challenges. The other students whispered about them, speculating on why Shelby would associate with someone like Draco. And Draco, for all his bravado, struggled with his own demons, wondering if he was worthy of someone like her.

One night, after a particularly heated argument about his reluctance to fully open up to her, Shelby stormed out of the common room. She needed air, needed to clear her head. But as she wandered the darkened corridors, she heard footsteps behind her.

Draco caught up to her, his face pale and his eyes wide with something close to fear. "Shelby, wait."

She turned, her anger cooling when she saw the vulnerability in his expression. "What is it, Draco?"

He hesitated, then stepped closer. "I'm scared...," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. " I am scared Of losing you. Of letting you see who I really am shelby."

Shelby felt her heart soften. "Draco, I already see you. All of you. And I'm not going anywhere."

He looked at her, his eyes searching hers for any hint of doubt. But all he saw was the truth, the acceptance that she had offered him from the beginning.

Slowly, he reached out and took her hand, his grip firm but gentle. "I don't deserve you shelby I really don't."

Shelby smiled, stepping closer to him. "Let me be the judge of that Draco."

In that moment, something shifted between them. The walls they had built around themselves began to crumble, and for the first time, they allowed themselves to truly be vulnerable with each other.

---

**Chapter 4: The Power of Love**

Their relationship grew stronger with each passing day. They became each other's anchor, navigating the complexities of their pasts and the uncertainties of their future together.

Draco, once cold and distant, found solace in Shelby's unwavering support and strength. And Shelby, who had always been guarded and independent, found herself opening up to Draco in ways she never thought possible.

But not everyone was happy about their relationship. Some of the older Slytherins, still clinging to the ideals of the past, began to resent the bond that had formed between them. They saw Shelby as a threat, a reminder that change was inevitable.

One evening, as Shelby was returning to the common room, she was cornered by a group of them. They sneered at her, their eyes filled with malice.

"You think you're special, don't you?" one of them hissed at her. "Just because you've got Malfoy wrapped around your finger?"

Shelby stood her ground, refusing to be intimidated. "I don't need anyone to fight my battles for me."

Another Slytherin stepped forward, smirking. "Let's see how tough you really are."

Before they could make a move, Draco appeared at the end of the corridor, his wand raised and his expression deadly. "Touch her, and you'll regret it." He gets cold and pissed and he gets overprotective towards her when someone gets to her like that.

The group hesitated, clearly torn between their desire to challenge Draco and their fear of him. After a tense moment, they backed down, muttering curses under their breath as they slunk away.

Shelby let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "Thanks Draco."

Draco lowered his wand, his eyes softening as he looked at her. "Are you okay are you hurt, did they touch you shelby?"

She nodded, stepping into his arms. "I am fine, they didn't even touch me, I am now ok thanks to you Draco."

As he held her close, Draco realized that he had never felt this way about anyone before. Shelby was his light in the darkness, his reason to keep fighting for a better future. And he would do anything to protect her, no matter the cost.

---

**Chapter 5: A New Beginning**

The rest of the year passed in a blur of exams, Quidditch matches, and stolen moments together. When the time came to leave Hogwarts, Shelby and Draco stood at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, looking out at the horizon.

"What's next for us Draco?" Shelby asked, her voice filled with a mix of excitement and uncertainty.

Draco looked at her, his heart swelling with love. "Whatever we want it to be shelby I got you."

Shelby smiled, leaning into him. "As long as we're together Draco that's all that matters to me."

He kissed her, a promise of everything they had yet to experience. Together, they would face whatever challenges the future held, knowing that their love was strong enough to overcome anything.

And as they walked away from Hogwarts, hand in hand, they knew that this was only the beginning of their story—a story of redemption, love, and a future they would build together.

---

**The End**

(I hope you guys enjoy this end of this story fanfiction about shelby and Draco if you want more things like this please do follow me and all this stuff I made good things about draco malfoy and stories pov videos edits and more that I am working on)

[ripclaudia]

laura tell us your predictions on s4!!!

hello gabi!! i'll gladly share my thoughts and completely seriously too for once <3

first of all i think that the failchildren are going to stick together, or at least kendall, shiv and roman are. we've seen them each be daddy's number one candy baby but s3 finale changed the dynamic between the kids and logan so irreversibly that i can't really see any of them going back to him. except maybe connor, but that would require this to be connor's season and sadly he already has a failmarriage brewing and a campaign to run. and we all know who's the candy baby of the season... it's tom time, everyone!

logan is obviously going to try to stop the kids from trying anything and to be fair, i don't think the kids have much chances on their own. they are nepotism babies after all, so they'll need someone's help – i think they'll try to sway mattson somehow or then do the shareholders recruiting thing through stewy, maybe both. though i think they won't be able to convince stewy, which makes kendall sad :( and you know i am very interested in gerri's position here because it is sort of flexible. she's not going to sacrifice her career to help the kids but i don't think she's going to be completely detached from the efforts. that's mostly based on me putting all my hope in the writers going with j's perception of gerri's situation especially with roman, so it's really wishful thinking more than anything else.

the tomshiv faildivorce is another thing that's going to be very interesting. i think they'll be separated but not divorced and they're both incredibly miserable about it while pretending not to be. tom is living his best life at waystar but goes home to mondale and cries. greg barely notices because he is too busy being evil. i do think tomgreg is going to stick together during s4.

i also think someone's going to die and the frontrunners in my mind are currently logan and connor. logan is the obvious choice and the tragedy of it would be interesting, but removing logan from the game definitely makes the show lose some of its shine. connor's death would be tragic but in a way that could drive the plot forward? idk, let's just hope no one dies.

another thing that'll be interesting is the election, especially with the time jump. we'll definitely see more of mencken and i am very curious to see how they'll integrate the politics with the mattson storyline! i don't have that many solid thoughts about that but i'm sure that'll change soon hehe

but anyways i am also fairly sure that s4 won't be the last one based on everything jesse armstrong has said and the fact they didn't announce it when dropping the teaser since that would've been the perfect moment. of course i could be wrong but honestly i think they would have started milking the hype early if season 4 really was the last one.

[sigurdjarlson]

Greg high on anesthesia and flirting with Tom >>>

Godddd I would pay to see that

They finally are forced to let Tom in and he’s at Greg’s bedside in a second.

He looks like hell from the accident but he’s awake and most importantly he’s alive.

The next thing he notices is Greg is fucking doped up beyond. They warned him he might be too stoned to recognize him but it still feels like gut punch when Greg looks at him and there’s no flicker of recognition there.

Except now he’s smiling, a goofy dopey smile, so maybe he does know-

“Woah..hey you..” and he drops his voice into some sort of horrible southern accent, “what’s a mighty a fine gentleman like you doing on my side of town, partner:”

And he’s not sure if he wants to laugh or cry because fuck, it’s such a stupid Greg thing to say and could have lost him. He never would have heard his bizarre rambling and stupid jokes again.

And he wants to reach over and brush the stray hairs from his forehead. There’s always that one strand that never wants to stay in place. He doesn’t though:

And Greg is still just kinda looking at him with this same goofy expression. “You’re..wow..you’re really uh…you sure are a good looking gentleman..my good sir.”

And that’s….not what he expected to come out his mouth..

“How about you lie down and rest?” He says because Greg is high.

“How about you uh..join me? Perhaps? If you..are so inclined?”

And what the fuck is Greg hitting on him? He reminds himself Greg is on pain killers.

He reminds himself not to take it seriously although it feels like someone reached into his chest and squeezed.

“I think I’ll stay right here, buddy.”

And he wishes he could climb into the bed with him, hold him until he falls back asleep.

Greg just squirms a bit before squinting at him for a moment. “Are you my boyfriend?” And that feels like a punch in the stomach.

“What?” Is all he can say because why would he assume that? Why-

“Are we like together?”

He thinks of Italy and the answer comes out against his will. “Yes.” Sue him. He’ll tell Greg he was just fucking with him if he remembers.

“Seriously?” He winces at the incredulity in his voice. Well, ouch. Maybe he was reading this wrong the entire time.

You just called me handsome, asshole.

“How did I manage that?” He says finally, sounding slightly..awed. “Are you like blind?”

And oh, he means how did he land someone like Tom? It’s so ridiculous and..flattering he can’t help but preen a little at the indirect compliment.

“No I’m not blind, Greg.”

“Wow.”

And the silence that follows is only awkward for Tom it seems.

“What’s your name?” Greg says after a moment like it’s not strange to not know his own supposed boyfriends name.

“Tom.”

“Tom. That’s a nice name you’ve got there. I’m..Craig? No- Greg. I’m Greg.”

“Yeah I know, buddy.”

“Where am I?”

“Hospital.”

Greg’s eyes go comically wide as he looks around the room and finally settles on the machines next to him “that’s not good.”

Understatement of the century.

He seems to forget about it just as quickly because he’s looking at him..with this odd sort of playful energy. Flirty? Is he flirting?

“You’re…Mm..I’m trying not to be uncouth my dear uh..lover? Boyfriend?” He looks at the ring on Tom’s hand and perks up, “husband?”

And Tom doesn’t know to respond to that. He thinks of Italy again and he thinks of Nero and Sporus and he can’t say no.

He doesn’t answer and that seems to be enough of an answer for Greg.

“Where’s my ring? Did I lose it?” His eyes go wide with panic and Tom just quickly grabs his hand and squeezes gently.

“It’s…around.” He lies because it’s easier than explaining to a drug addled Greg that he’s not actually married to him and Tom is just a sad pathetic excuse of a man pretending he is.

“Oh okay.” He looks so relieved, it’s sweet.

He’d lost his own ring once and he’d panicked. Shiv had just looked at him with mild confusion and said “if it’s lost, we’ll just get you another one, no big deal. Calm down, honey.”

And it’s instinct really to reach out and run his fingers through Greg’s hair to soothe him. Immediately he melts into it and it doesn’t take long before he’s starting to fall asleep again.

Greg smiles softly at him after a few minutes and manages to get one last agonizing blow in, “hey..I love you, Tommy.”

And this whole situation feels like the world’s cruelest joke.

“You don’t even remember me?”

“I remember I love you.” And Tom isn’t going to cry he’s not. (He is)

And he just smiles tightly and shushes him, hopes he doesn’t notice that he didn’t say it back. He can’t, not like this. What if Greg remembers? This is already damning enough.

He doesn’t notice or he’s too drugged up and tired to call him on it. He falls asleep quickly enough and Tom stays by his side until he wakes up (and thankfully doesn’t remember what transpired) like a good husband should

[ghostbustermelanieking]

Jmart with 1?

so i made this prompt entirely too complicated. i've kind of had this idea for a while and used this prompt as an excuse to write it lol. i need to put more safehouse fics out in the world, right? also can be found here on ao3

1. things you said at 1 a.m.

It's too cold, after leaving the Lonely. It shouldn't be this bloody cold in London in September—it feels like it's below zero—and Martin's teeth are chattering as they walk back from the Institute. His fingers are freezing. Jon's shivering, too, clutching Martin's hand with both of his, leaning towards Martin as if he is a heater. It feels like they need winter coats, hats and scarves and gloves to block the wind, but the wind isn't blowing at all; Jon Knows, without even trying, that it's really just 10°C outside. 

Martin hasn't completely shaken off the remnants of the Lonely yet. He's out of it, taking long moments to respond when Jon says anything; his eyes are still a faded gray. And he's shaking so hard that Jon can feel the vibrations all the way up his arm. He's tired. He keeps swaying into Jon's shoulder, unsteady on his feet. Hold on, Martin, Jon keeps saying. We'll be home soon. He squeezes Martin's hands. Numbly, slowly, Martin squeezes back. 

They go to Martin's flat, because Jon doesn't have one and the Institute isn't safe. Martin's fingers are numb with cold (Jon Knows without trying), fumbling around his key without getting a good hold on it before Jon reaches for it and asks if he should do it. Martin nods, quiet, and Jon lets them in. 

It isn't any warmer in Martin's flat. Not surprising, as deep as the Lonely had seeped into Martin, but it still hurts Jon a little to see, the cold seeping into his bones. They sit on the couch, vaguely speaking of dinner; Jon isn't hungry, but he knows Martin needs to eat, and so he presses the issue, thinking only of all the times in the beginning that Martin had pressed him to eat or brought him tea. He makes the tea this time, makes it the way he remembers Martin making it once, before the Unknowing, and brings the mugs into the living room. They never do make it to dinner; Martin is quiet, responding numbly, or not at all, to questions, and Jon isn't doing much better. Martin talks of moving to the bed—well, really, he tells Jon to take the bed and Jon says absolutely not, thinks It's your bed and I won't leave you alone —but it never happens. In the end, Martin falls asleep on the couch, his head tipped back against the back of the couch, his mouth half opening, shivering violently in his sleep, his tea going cold on the coffee table. 

Jon finds every blanket in the flat that he can and piles it over Martin, practically cocooning him in them. It's clumsy work; Martin's comforter keeps sliding off, and the afghan from the couch gets tangled in the extra quilts. But it looks warm, and that's all that matters, that Martin is warm. 

(There's fog in the flat, just a little, creeping over the floor. The Lonely is here with them, seeped into both of their bones, but it's sunk deeper into Martin, and all Jon can think is that he won't let him go. He won't let Martin be lost, not again. Not if he can help it.)

There are no blankets left. Jon pulls his own coat over himself, and then—trying not to feel too entirely pathetic—Martin's. It's large and warm, warmer than Jon's own; it smells like Martin, too, Jon's nose pressed against the collar. But Martin isn't gone this time, isn't off somewhere cloaked too heavily in fog for Jon to reach him; Martin is right here. Jon can hear his deep, shaking breaths, feel the comforting weight of him on the opposite side of the couch. 

He fumbles through the layers of coats and blankets and finds Martin's hand again. It is the warmest part of him, as he's falling asleep, his hand in Martin's. 

---

Jon and Martin sleep on the train to Scotland. They're both exhausted, both worn out, and both, somehow, still freezing. They shouldn't be this cold. Jon Knows they shouldn't be this cold. 

Martin's brought blankets, and he insists Jon take one; he's been better today, more there, more… Martin, and he wasn't happy that Jon didn't leave any blankets for himself the night before. Jon's so cold—even in a jumper and a coat, and with the sun coming through the window—that he doesn't argue. (Well. Only a little, only to see Martin's face screw up in mock irritation in a way that might make Jon melt a little inside.) He takes the blanket. It smells like Martin, too. 

They sleep, and Jon wakes up still cold, fingers still freezing, bones aching—except on one side, where he and Martin have slumped against each other, Jon's head on Martin's shoulder, and Martin's head against Jon's. The warmth seeps through the layers of blankets and coats and all of it. 

Jon stays there, leaning heavily into Martin, for a long time after he wakes up, not ready to move away from the warmth.

---

There aren't enough blankets in the safehouse. 

There is only one bed, which helps. One large bed—Daisy must have liked her space. But still: it makes the discussion over blankets easier. (They argue a little over who will take the bed; Martin tries to take the couch, and Jon tries to take the couch, and it begins to get ridiculous. It just makes sense, in the end, to share the bed.) Between the two of them, they pile the sheets, three quilts, and the blankets Martin brought on the bed. It still isn't enough. The bed stays freezing, and Martin stays freezing, too. He's been layering jumpers, scarves, even wooly hats, and pushing the same towards Jon; he looks like someone braving a blizzard, or sick with a cold, and Jon tells him so. He worries, afterwards, that he's crossed the line, made a joke about something distinctly unfunny (reverted back to a version of himself that he'd rather forget), but Martin just laughs a little and says, "If I'd known this would be the effect of working for Peter, I might've invested in more winter clothing." Jon laughs, too, and accepts the scarf and hat when Martin pushes it his way. 

There's a box of firewood out by an old shed. Jon doesn't bother speculating what it might be for. They build a fire in the hearth, that first night, and that helps. Read books they've both packed on the couch, their knees touching through the layers of blankets, and it's the most peaceful Jon's felt in a long time. 

The cold creeps back in, though. Even with the blankets, even with the ancient heating system in the house turned on, even with Martin in the bed with him ( Martin, who Jon has missed tremendously for seven months now). The cold and the fog and all of it; it creeps back in while they are sleeping, when Jon is too distracted to notice. 

He wakes up sometime in the middle of the night, shivering, teeth chattering. There is a quivering in the blankets, a sort of shaking, and Jon knows that Martin is shivering, too. The fog is creeping back in; somehow, the Lonely hasn't left them yet. Jon reaches out and brushes his fingers over Martin's arm; he hisses a little at the contact. One or both of them are as cold as ice; he isn't sure who anymore. 

His mind immediately begins racing, searching for any sort of alternative to the blankets and the jumpers and the socks and scarves. More jumpers in the suitcase, he thinks. The coats. Maybe they can conserve some warmth with the curtains, or some ridiculous thing like that. Anything to keep Martin warm. Somehow, two of the blankets have ended up on his side—Jon isn't sure why—so he attempts to rearrange them, pushing them over to Martin's side, and slides to the edge of the bed, ready to retrieve more things from the suitcase. But Martin's voice, rising blearily, sleepily from the other side of the bed—"J'n?"—stops Jon in his tracks. He hadn't realized that Martin was awake. 

Martin yawns, twisting in the covers, his teeth chattering a few more times. "What… what time s'it?

"1:07 a.m.," says Jon automatically. He shivers hard a few times on instinct, wraps his arms around himself. "I-I'm sorry, Martin, I-I… didn't mean to wake you."

"Mm, wasn' really sleeping anyway…" Martin yawns again, rubbing at his eyes. They look bigger, somehow, without his glasses, dark and soft in the dim light of the room, and Jon loves him so much. 

"I… I wanted to get you more blankets," Jon says, forgetting for a moment that there aren't any others—he revises, "O-or… something else to keep you warm. Something… y-you looked cold, I mean."

Martin blinks a few times in disbelief. Looks out at the blankets at the bed and pulls at the two knit ones from his own flat, like he can't believe they're there. "Jon, you… gave me the blankets back," he says, voice stiff thick with sleepiness. 

Jon chews at his lower lip, shudders all over as another wave of cold hits. "Y-yes, well, they'd… ended up on my side of the bed, somehow, and you… you were cold, as I said, and I…" 

"Jon, I g-g-gave them to you for a reason," Martin says, sounding more awake, and maybe a little fauxly put out; he's clenching his jaw as he talks in an attempt to keep his teeth from chattering. " You're cold, Jon. You were sh-shivering in your sleep!"

It's Jon's turn to blink in surprise now, caught off guard by Martin's words. "Yes, b-but you… you need the blankets more than I do, Martin… th-they're your blankets, and you've been freezing since the Lonely, a-and…" He looks out at the room. He can't see the fog anymore, but that doesn't mean it's gone. "I don't want to lose y—" he starts, stops. Martin might not be his to lose. Amends: "I-I don't want you to be lost, not again, a-and I…"

Martin makes a faint sound of what might be disgust. "This is ridiculous, Jon," he says, and Jon allows himself to worry for a second (Has he gone too far, saying I don't want to lose you, assuming Martin wants this kind of contact, when Martin only said he loved Jon, not love?), before Martin continues: "W-we were both touched by the Lonely… we've both been alone for so long, w-we…" He stops, rubs a hand over his face. Jon can feel him shivering from here, all the way across the mattress. (King sized. Why does Daisy need something this big?) 

Martin lowers his hand. His eyes are wet; Jon can see, and he worries still that he's gone too far. But then Martin's reaching across the mattress, his hand extended towards Jon, and saying, "W-we should just… it'd be warmer if we, um…" 

Jon slips his cold fingers through Martin's; Martin squeezes his hand, so gently that Jon's chest aches a little. He says, his voice soft and sleepy, "... C'mere?" 

Tentative, Jon slides across the mattress, through the nest of blankets towards Martin's broad, soft chest. And then Martin's arms are sliding around him. Martin's embracing him, hands soft and just as cautious against Jon's back. And Jon can't help it anymore; he melts into the embrace. Winds his own arms around Martin, pressing as close as he can physically get (arms around his shoulders, face pressed into his neck). It's easy, too easy, because Martin has been gone for so long and Jon just only now got him back—he's thinking of the tapes and Martin slipping away down the hall, Martin being taken into the Lonely, Martin's voice saying he wouldn't be coming back, and it's all too easy to cling to Martin hard as he can. They're both still freezing, skin chilled to the cut, but… Jon can feel it dissipating. Something warm is growing between them, he thinks. Something. 

"How did neither of us think of this?" Martin whispers. There's a quiver in his voice, just subtle enough that Jon can't tell if he's laughing or crying. "Two days we've been freezing, bundling up, a-and throwing blankets at each other like we're jumping onto a grenade… a-and neither of us thought of this?"

"I missed you," Jon whispers. He hears a sharp gasp from Martin, like he might cry, and it only makes him hold on harder. He's never held Martin like this before, never. (They hugged, before the Unknowing, but that was quick and awkward and over too soon, and Jon had foolishly thought there would still be a chance for this when he came back.) He's never held Martin like this before, but he knows he never wants to stop. He presses his nose against the hollow of Martin's neck and says again, "I missed you, Martin. So much. I… I don't think I can begin to tell you how much." 

Martin takes a few trembling breaths. Ducks his head to press his lips against Jon's forehead—Jon leans into the affection of the touch, the warmth. "I've… missed you, too," he murmurs. "So much, Jon, I… staying away from you, a-after you came back… I thought I'd lost you, a-and it… it almost killed me."

"I'm here," says Jon, "I'm here, you're here," and he kisses Martin at the soft spot under his jaw. Presses closer into the bubble of heat they've created, threads his fingers through Martin's hair and adds, silently, I'll keep you warm. 

When they wake, the next morning, the cold is gone, and so is the fog. Like it was never even there in the first place. 

[hoe4almondmilk]

Safety Net: Chapter 2

Present! Carol Denning/Reader 

It’s been three days since you’ve been at max and it’s been honestly quite awful. You stared at the tray of food in front of you poking at it with your fork instead of eating it, you weren’t hungry and you were restless from not being able to sleep. Who could even sleep here? The lights are on constantly.

“Making art, (L/N)?” you looked up to see who the familiar voice belonged to, it was Piper with her fiancée Alex. Piper was starting to become a little more tolerable now that she was reunited with Alex. You were happy for them and honestly glad to have them here with you even if you were never particularly close with either of them during your time up at camp. 

“I don’t know if I’d call it art but it’s something.” you chuckled, continuing picking at the food. “I miss camp, I feel like I'm always on edge here.” 

“I definitely agree with that, sleeping with this fuckin broken arm hasn’t been pleasant.” Alex replied as she began eating her food. God, you almost felt nauseous watching someone eat. Food disgusted you right now. “You’re not pulling a Sister Ingalls are you?” Alex asked half jokingly but also sounding a little concerned.

“No, I just haven’t had much of an appetite lately, I feel sick looking at food, it’s probably just my anxiety. Also the food here looks repulsive..” you sighed. 

“I don’t blame you, I would feel anxious too if I was sharing a bunk with the head of C-Block.” said Piper.

You turned your head to the left over where Carol was, she was playing cards surrounded by her posse. You and Carol haven’t really spoken much or been around each other since she basically scared you off the other day. It was kind of an unspoken rule, if Carol was in the room you stayed out of her way and hung around somewhere else until she came out which was pretty often since she was mostly out here playing cards. You were so deep in thought you forgot you were still looking in carol’s direction when you snapped back to reality you saw her staring straight at you with an emotionless expression, you quickly looked away. 

“She’s actually not that bad, I mean besides telling me to get the fuck out the other day. She’s quiet and clean. except for when she’s looking at those magazines of men, that���s when it gets a little uncomfortable. I feel more sorry for you being bunkmates with Badison, Chapman.” you chuckled as Piper’s eyes rolled hearing her roomie’s name. 

“Oh please don’t get her started, it will never end.” Alex groaned, rubbing her temple with her functioning hand. 

“She’s giving you trouble?” You asked, actually concerned. 

“Trouble doesn’t even begin to describe it. She’s a bully!” Piper exclaimed. “There is something deeply wrong with her.” Piper was normally a pretty dramatic person but you knew she wasn’t exaggerating when she was talking about Badison. You’ve only known Badison for a few days but there really was something wrong with her. 

“I think there’s something deeply wrong with everyone here.” Alex replied. “They’re in maximum security for a reason.” 

“I wonder what Carol did.” You said thinking out loud. “Everyone obeys her, shit even Badison is scared of her.”

“All I know is that one of her girls, Creech, is my bunkmate and I want no trouble.” Alex said, continuing to eat her food. 

“Aw, look at that, all of the new cookies eatin’ together. What is this a fuckin pride parade?” you recognized that god awful bostonian accent, it was Badison as she began to sit down at your table. 

“Well you know what they say about us gays, we hang out in flocks.” Alex replied sarcastically. You couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle.

“I would’ve never guessed you were a carpet muncher, Mouse. I guess you learn something new everyday.” said Badison. “I better be careful, don’t want you developing a crush on me or anything.” 

“I’m picky with my women, you have nothing to worry about.” Your eyes widened realizing you said that out loud. It would’ve been an awkward silence if it wasn’t for Alex’s small chuckles.

“Oh you’re a funny little thing, now aren't you?” Badison replied, still shocked by what you just said.

“I meant that I'm not really interested in dating while i’m in prison, you know?” you said trying to cover your ass for what you just said. 

“I got what you meant.” Badison said slowly coming closer to you. “You should really be more careful with who you smart off too though. Don’t wanna start off on the wrong foot with anyone here. Remember what I said on your first day. We can make you want to live or die.” Badison whispered and walked her way over towards Carol.

“I’m so fucked.” You said worryingly.

“Badison’s not gonna do shit, she just wants to scare you two.” Alex said, trying to comfort you. 

You nodded. You looked over your shoulder once more to see Badison next to Carol as she played a card game with the other girls. You couldn’t help but feel a small pit of worry in your stomach. 

Later that evening a few hours before lights out, you decided to go take a shower, something you had been avoiding for the past few days. It’s not that you were unhygienic, it's just you had been slightly depressed from the big transition of moving from up the hill to down the hill. 

You took a quick look around the shower room, thank god it was empty. Empty showers were a rarity in any prison. 

It was when you were washing your hair that you heard a couple of footsteps walking in. Well, that was a nice five minutes of peace and quiet. You ignored it and continued to rinse the shampoo out of your hair. Suddenly, you felt an arm wrap around your chest and something pointy and sharp being pressed against your right jugular. 

“If you scream, I swear to god I will push this into your neck. You got that?” You nodded trying to hold back your tears. The arms around you flip you over and you’re faced to see two of Badison’s friends Eckelcamp and Teng. 

“What did I do?” you asked quietly and shakily, almost choking trying to hold back your tears. You’ve mostly kept to yourself this whole time here, actively trying to avoid any trouble, you certainly don’t remember doing anything to these two. This is the first time you’ve even spoken to them.

“You disrespected Badison, bitch.” Eckelcamp said, still extremely close to your face. She wrapped her hand around your neck tightly with the shiv still firmly pressed against your neck. You were barely able to breathe. “Next time Badison talks to you, have some fucking manners.” she said slamming your back hard against the shower wall. You did your best to hold back a yelp. Getting stabbed in the neck with a dirty shiv was not the move for today.

“Next time you see her, apologize.” said Teng, “We’ll be watching. Let’s get out of here before a CO comes.” 

Eckelcamp nodded in agreement and looked at you once more and yanked your hair pulling you down to the hard wet tile of the bathroom and left. 

You waited till you heard their footsteps disappear to crawl into a ball and sob under the now cold running water of the shower. So this is what Badison meant when she said live or die. Your hands gently rubbed your possibly bruised neck. You finished your shower and got dressed before anyone walked in and saw you like this. 

Once you returned to the common room, your eyes scanned the room for Badison. You looked over at Carol’s table, her usual spot but she was absent. You met eyes with Eckelcamp and Teng. Ignoring them you made your way to Badison and Piper’s cell. You really hated the fact that you were being practically forced to apologize to her but this bitch was not worth a stab in the neck with a dirty shiv. 

Once you got to the cell you saw Badison laying on her bunk and Piper in hers reading a book. You lightly knocked on the open door. 

“Hey, (L/N).” Piper said smiling but her smile quickly faded almost as if she could sense something not right with you.

“Hey, Chapman.” you smiled trying to not seem suspicious, as much as you liked Piper she had a tendency to involve herself in situations that she didn’t belong in. 

“The fuck do you want, Mouse?” Badison asked sarcastically as she laid up from her bunk. She knew exactly what the fuck you wanted. 

“I was wondering if I could have a word with you.” You asked. “Out here. In Private.”

“Whatever you need to say you can say it here with me and Gapman.”

“Please, Badison.” You were trying to hide the impatience in your voice. Piper was already looking at you suspiciously. 

“Only because you said please.” Badison said she climbed down her bunk making her way out the bunk. 

You walked over under the stairs. “I wanted to formally apologize to you for disrespecting you.” You said trying to sound sincere.

“I see you met Eckelcamp and Teng.” She chuckled looking at your neck. “Oh, those are gonna be some ugly bruises tomorrow.” 

“It’s not like I have anyone to look beautiful for here.” you said rubbing your neck.

“Aw, you don’t wanna look pretty for your lesbo girlfriends.” Badison said, as she made a pouty face.

“You mean Chapman and Vause? Just because we’re gay doesn’t mean we’re dating eachother.” You were actually confused. Was she actually that dumb?

“What?” She looked visibly confused. “Anyway, That was a shitty apology.”

“What do you want from me, Badison?” You said already fed up.

“I don’t like you. I can look past that though if you fill up my commissary for the next two weeks. Don’t be stingy with me, (L/N). I know you got plenty of money.” She said with that sleazy fucking smile.

“Fine, deal.” You really didn’t want to do this but you also didn’t want anymore trouble with Badison or the rest of Carol’s gang.

“I accept your apology.” Badison said.

As you were about to turn around to leave you felt Badison’s foot slide under yours causing you to trip and fall hard on the ground. You heard Badison let out a loud laugh. You could feel your eyes well up with tears again and this time you didn’t even bother to stop them from flowing. Let them see you cry, you didn’t care anymore. 

“Oops.” Badison said as she continued to laugh.

“(L/N), are you okay?” You heard Piper's voice as she tried to help you up. You must have hit the floor hard enough if Piper heard you fall from her cell.

“I’m fine, Chapman. Just go, don’t make this worse for the both of us.” You snapped as you stood up from the ground. You wanted to yelp from the shock of pain that shot through your body. 

You looked over to see everyone at Carol’s table laughing, except for Carol. Your red puffy tear filled eyes locked with hers for a second. You looked away embarrassed. You hurried as fast as you could up the stairs to your cell. You wanted to lay down and hope you woke up from this fucking nightmare.

As soon as you reached your cell you climbed to the top bunk and crawled up into a small ball and just sobbed. You hated being seen as weak here. You didn’t like giving these people that power over you but you couldn’t help it. You were so wrong on your first day, you were finally beginning to crack. You weren’t sure how long you were crying but your sobs finally turned to small sniffles. 

“You new cookies really do crumble quickly.” You heard that stern cold voice say. You lifted your head up to meet eyes with Carol. This is the second time she’s ever actually spoken to you. You quickly wiped your tears away. “Are you gonna say something or are you just gonna keep looking at me all pitiful?” Carol said as she leaned against the wall of the cell with her arms crossed. 

“I don’t really have anything to say.” You continued to sniffle. “At least not without having to worry about getting shanked in the shower.” 

“Oh, so that explains your neck.” Carol chuckled.

Damn was it really that noticeable already?

“I thought you would’ve known, your girls are the ones who did it.” You replied with a slight attitude putting your head back down. 

“Whatever Badison has the other girls do has nothing to do with me.” Carol replied. 

“I’ve been here for three days and you’ve never bothered to speak to me. Why the sudden change?” You asked. 

“Am I bothering you?” Carol replied almost as if she was slightly offended.

“No, you’re not. Sorry, that sounded a lot ruder than it did in my head.” You rubbed your eyes, Please don’t beat my ass. You prayed. You had enough ass beatings for the rest of your sentence.

“I’m talking to you because I believe you have potential, (L/N).”  Carol said with a slight smirk.

“Potential?” You asked, confused. What the hell does she mean by that?

“I want you to work for me. I can tell you’re smarter than most of these other girls here. It also makes sense considering the fact that we are sharing a cell together.” Carol said. She did have a point. Carol was not someone to be enemies with. 

“I mean I guess. Look Carol, I’m just trying to keep my nose clean, do my time and-“

“And what? Avoid getting in any trouble? What happens if you get into another disagreement with another inmate and she starts a fight with you? You’re gonna get fed up with being someone’s punching bag and you’ll fight back. The COs aren’t going to see it as self defense. They’ll happily throw you into the SHU and add more time onto your sentence. Stick by me and I’ll make sure Badison or any other girls never lay a finger on you.” Carol did make a good point. “See me as a type of safety net, if you will.”

“Can you give me time to think about it?” You asked not sure if you would be able to do it.

“The offer is off the table then. Continue getting your ass beat. It’s not hurting me.” Carol said, trying to hide her annoyance. 

You sat and thought about it for a minute. You knew you weren’t going to be able to just continue getting beat on. You were going to break at some point. You looked up at Carol and took a deep breath in. 

“Okay, I’ll do it.” You had three years left on your sentence, that’s not a lot of time, you could do this. 

“Shake on it.” Carol said coming up to you with her hand out. 

You looked at her, a small smile forming at the corners of your lips. “Okay, boss.” You said as you shook her hand.

“Sit down here kid, I’m gonna show you how to play Bridge.” Carol said sitting on her bed as she began to shuffle a deck of cards.

“Bridge? Is that the game you’re always playing?” you asked as you slowly began to crawl off the top bed. Trying to ignore the pain in your sore arms and legs.

“Yep, It’s best I teach you now, you’re going to be playing a lot of it.” Carol said, laying out the cards in front of you as you sat down. “Shall we begin?” 

What the hell am I getting myself into. You thought to yourself as you watched Carol explain bridge to you.

Chapter 3 here

[caranfindel]

Episode recap/review: Walker 1.14

I didn't expect to recap 1.14 and yet here I am, still avoiding my unfinished Summergen fic. I'm actually writing this in real time, as I watch the episode. So for once I'm not pretending I don't know what happens. I literally don't know.

We begin with Cordell and Grandpa clearing up the crime scene. How much do I love Cordell saying "Daddy?" A lot. And not in that way, you perverts. It just really brings out the Texan.

Liam is in bed, recuperating. He gets a call (note that he calls himself William professionally, which is news to me, and I like it for whatever reason) from someone asking for a comment, which he starts to angrily refuse before Gramma Walker grabs his phone and hangs up. Gramma Walker going all Mama Bear for Liam is also interesting, and unexpected. But Liam says "I can take care of myself" and she says "No, you can't. None of you boys can." And then looks sadly out the window, where Cordell and Grandpa are taking down the crime scene tape. I just have to think "none" and not "both" means she's thinking of poor dead Hoyt, who she obviously loved like a son, if not more so. (More evidence for the Hoyt is her lovechild file? Maybe.)

Geri shows up, wearing an unnecessary cowboy hat and Hoyt's old jacket. She's bearing Hoyt's last will and testament, written on a bar coaster! Oh, my heart. And in case you can't read it:

If I get shivved in the shower or some old horse kicks me upside the head. For real Liam stamp it and everything - I leave everything to Geri/"Geraldine Broussard"/angle [sic] face sweet lips etc. So that plot I bought over in Tanglewood is for her and whatever I got in my pockets or elsewhere. See ya in the next life.

Angle face!

I'm not sure this would stand up in court, since he didn't even sign his last name, although it is witnessed by William Walker. Anyway, it's a moot point, because the land Hoyt intended to give Geraldine "Angle Face" Broussard is transferring to new owners, effective tomorrow. Which makes no sense. The deal fell apart because he died, and yet it's so soon after his death that the police tape is still up. New owners wouldn't be in the picture that quickly. Reverting to previous owners, because it was owner-financed? Sure. But not new owners. (Whatever, Caranfindel. Move it along.) She asks Cordell to go with her to gather his personal belongings. And to bring the kids. Hmmm, let's see how Stella can mess this up. (Tanglewood is 71 miles from Austin. Of course I looked it up.)

But first, Cordell has to sign paperwork to begin his leave of absence. So he didn't actually intend to quit. I mean, we all knew he'd be back, but I kind of thought he was, at the time, intending to quit for good. Does Connie the HR person have a big old crush on him? There is hand touching and deep, serious gazing.

Touch him, Connie. Touch him for those of us who cannot.

Micki is sitting right outside the conference room where he signs his papers but still acts surprised that he's in the building. Did she not smell the rosemary mint shampoo as he walked by? He thanks her for the flowers and apologizes for not calling her back. And then cancels their lunch plans so he can go off with Geri and the kids.

Someone said this on Tumblr, and I think it bears repeating here. It's interesting comparing Cordell's grief, over his wife and now his best friend, to Sam's grief. Cordell is clearly deeply affected, and is also clearly moving on. Sam is just unhinged.

Elsewhere. The gang stops for lunch and reminisces about Hoyt dressed as Santa, wearing assless chaps. Well. That's memorable. (Also, I know people who did the whole leaving horse manure and pretending it's reindeer poop thing. Some people are just a lot more into Santa than I was.) Trevor (Travis? Whatever) called Stella. She's apparently avoiding him. Probably a good call, sis. Maybe the only one you've made in 14 episodes. (To be fair, I didn't watch the first four.)

Micki shares tacos with her boyfriend, whose name I can never remember, having been stood up by Cordell. She tells him Cordell seemed "off," which is great now, Micki. Why didn't you pay more attention to that feeling last week? The BF thinks Micki herself might be off, because she misses her partner. And she calls him family. Captain What's His Face comes to talk to Trey (that's his name, dammit) and asks if he knows a guy who goes to the same physical therapist's office. Friends, when I've done PT, I don't even know people who go to my therapist, let alone just go to someone in the same office. But maybe folks in Austin are just friendlier than they are round these parts. Oh, wait. The guy is missing, and was last seen in a heated discussion with Trey? What's up with that, Trey?

Tanglewood. Cordell asks the nice lady (realtor? owner?) about Hoyt's "personal affects," and she says "they are probably out grazing." Because Hoyt's personal effects are four horses and a llama. Which Geri owns now. "Where am I going to board four horses and a llama?" she asks. Cordell is oddly befuddled (and adorably, cause y'all know how I feel about befuddled Jared), as if he didn't live on a ranch. With horses. The family business, remember? The kids are entranced. I would be too. It's a damn cute llama. One of the mares actually nursed the llama, so they're family. (Watch out for falling anvils.)

Micki's house. Trey says the "heated discussion" was the missing guy showing him a judo move. Captain asks Trey to ride along and help him investigate, and poor partnerless Micki asks if she can come with.

Tanglewood. Apparently Hoyt's personal affects also included gear for the four horses, because everyone is saddled up. Geri doesn't seem like an experienced rider - she keeps her hand on the pommel of the saddle, which I always heard was a rube move. (At least she's not clutching the saddle horn. No shade. It's hard not to. It's a perfect handle and it's just right there.) Cordell, of course, rides perfectly, as he does everything perfectly.

Everything except his job. And raising his kids. But do I care about those things? Not so much.

Geri thinks the llama looks unwell. What is she, a llama expert? A veterinarian? And what are they doing on this trail ride anyway - taking the herd back to the Walker ranch? It's 71 miles away! It's an hour and a half driving! How will they get the truck? Why didn't Cordell just say "let's go back to the ranch and get Daddy's cattle trailer?" WHY.

(No one cares. No one but you thinks about these things.)

Stella is on her phone, but it turns out she's (allegedly) re-reading Hoyt's last text, not chatting with friends. And then she says she was "responsible for everything." Oh, wait. We're going there? Stella is finally going to face the music? Cordell says it's not her fault, but they're interrupted by the llama, who apparently is in distress. Cordell wants to leave him at a random homestead. Permanently? Like, "excuse me, ma'am, but can you take this llama?" Or just while they get the horses home? I dunno.

August doesn't like this, because the llama and the horses are family. Geri distracts him by claiming Hoyt wanted him to have the jacket she's wearing, although I find this rather dubious, because why did she wait so long to mention it? Why is she wearing it herself? It's a lucky jacket he won from a tarot card reader and card hustler named The Mystifying Mehar, who was "infamous for getting out of trouble because of that jacket." Cordell then asks Geri to go off with the kids while he hangs back and tries to ditch the llama. Oh no, Cordell, don't do that. He's family!

Back at the ranch, Grandpa chases off some more journalists. He also ignores Gramma's concern about his cancer.

Trail ride. We skipped the whole bit where Cordell found someone willing to take in a goddamn llama, caught up with his kids, and told them what he did. They're mad that he wouldn't even try, and then Stella impulsively rides off, almost falling into a revine.

Team Sassyboots 2.0 questions the missing guy's wife. Turns out he left a note. Doesn't sound like he's as missing as they thought. He said he would "fix everything," i.e., their upcoming foreclosure. They check his workshop and find evidence that he was a military contractor, and apparently this means he should have no money problems whatsoever, because they don't understand how money works. His gun safe is empty, so they figure he's on some kind of "black ops" job. And if it's going to be complete by Monday, I assume it's something local, and not a military operation.

Walker Ranch. Someone who is Liam's "political opponent" comes to take care of him? And he's bringing barbeque? Is it poisoned? Gramma says Liam can't have barbecue because he's on bedrest, as if one had anything to do with the other. And... Grandpa wants to go mushroom hunting with her? Is that what the kids call it these days?

Trail ride. Cordell found someone to keep the horses. Temporarily? I'm still confused. Stella and Geri talk about Hoyt, and Stella asks about her forgiving him. Thinking about some forgiveness toward your own bad boy, Stella? She says "the two of you were always kind of like the dream to me," which is odd considering they were off-and-on, while her parents were very much on, and definitely seem more like couple goals. But okay. Stella confesses again that she is responsible, and Geri says "you let love in, maybe; that's your worse crime." I wonder if Stella blames herself for the fake truck crash that started the whole domino effect, or if she even realizes that's what happened. Obviously Geri wouldn't. Hmmm, I wonder what August thinks about all this?

Walker Ranch. Whoever this political opponent is, he must be a family friend, because he gave a toast at Cordell and Emily's rehearsal dinner. "Hey, when did your brother have such long hair," he asks, looking at a picture of the happy couple. Liam is growing facial hair again. I like it. Opponent suggests the spicy barbecue will put hair on Liam's chest and Liam tosses it aside and says "no, dammit, after I spent all that time waxing?" And Liam might drop out of whatever race he's in. I don't really care about that part. Let's talk more about Liam's chest.

I love that they can use actual Padalecki family photos as Cordell and Emily photos. No bad Photoshop needed!

Team Sassyboots 2.0. I don't really care about this missing guy either. Skipping it. You know, I understand this is meant to be an ensemble show, and Jared Padalecki and his stupid pretty face and long legs are not going to be in every scene. But Micki working a case with her boss and her boyfriend just bothers me and I don't want to be a part of it.

Trail ride. They're bedding down in the barn for the night? What the fuck? Where are they? Why didn't they just drive home? I'm so confused! Cordell and Geri talk about Hoyt some more. Cordell makes an awkward comment about "us together" and then amends it to mean all of us together, as in you and me and the kids camping right now, not, like, you and me together together, and then does a little eyebrow thing like whoo, good job, talked your way out of that one. NO, CORDELL, YOU ARE NOT AS SMOOTH AS YOU THINK YOU ARE. Anyway. There's a lot of guilt about poor dead Hoyt. Cordell tells Geri her name is still on the Sidestep lease (lease? I thought they owned it?), as if being part owner of a bar is always going to be a good thing, with no liability at all. And they don't kiss, for which I am grateful. The horses are really acting up. I hope nothing's happening.

Cordell checks on the horses and apologizes to the mare for leaving the llama behind. He realizes he made the wrong choice. "You know what," he says. "Let's go fix this."

I adore him.

Walker Ranch. Grandpa and Gramma have been mushroom hunting and are now getting silly. Um, what kind of mushrooms did you two find? And then Grandpa says "tonight's about Hoyt," which I do not understand. "I saw the joy he gave you," Grandpa says. Yes, Grandpa, and do you not find that even a little bit fishy? And then he decides to build something.

Trail ride. Cordell went and retrieved his llama! He is precious. I love him so much. He has some pratfalls in the same ravine that almost caught Stella, and then his family shows up and rescues him. (Can I point out that his "a-ha-ha" laugh is the same one we heard when he opened his gift from Dean in "A Very Supernatural Christmas" and I'm not sure it appeared in any other episode?) August offers the Lucky Jacket to use as a llama harness to haul the little guy out of the ravine. Oh, and it turns out the llama is about to give birth.

And, while I'm skipping Team Sassyboots 2.0, it's hard to ignore that Micki is now in a UFC fight. That might have been an interesting story after all. Y'all can fill me in.

Walker Ranch. They're building a little stable. Because this big horse ranch doesn't have enough stables. Liam, who was bedridden to the point of not being able to eat barbeque yesterday, is now helping build. He gets a text from his former fiance, who wants to talk. And Grandpa has decided to treat his cancer. Happy endings all around!

Micki's house. She says she was passive-aggressive with Walker because she's afraid of losing him. I get it, sweetie. He's someone you don't want to lose.

Trail ride. August is carrying the newborn llama, wrapped in the Lucky Jacket. Geri wants to cut out before they get to the ranch. She's going to ride the bus home? Seriously? Isn't her car at the Walker Ranch? She and Cordell talk abou their unfinished business. Yeah, like the fact she was probably involved in your wife's murder? That unfinished business, Geraldine? Grandpa meets them before they get to the ranch and informs them he has a strict no-llama policy on the ranch. But luckily, he just built an alpaca stable. They’re alpacas, not llamas. So, Geri called him, but how did he know they were alpacas? Did she send pictures? I am so confused. Anyway. The new family goes into their new home. They name the baby alpaca Hoyt, of course.

Little Hoyt, guys, he's the sweetest thing.

Breakfast. Political Opponent gives Liam a contribution. Oh, I get it. They're running for the same office, and he thinks Liam will draw votes away from his other opponent. Shrewd. Stella calls Trevor and says she might need to leave the past behind. And you are the past, Trevor. Cordell sees a truck pull up and runs out to meet Micki. She apologizes for holding a grudge over him leaving. She tries to shake hands and he hugs her instead. She thinks they can just be friends now instead of partners, and he says they're not friends, they're family. And then she oohs and aahs over the alpacas, which she recognizes immediately as alpacas and not llamas, and also points out that little Hoyt is actually a girl. Oops. Awkward. Cordell is surprised she can just tell. "Most people can." Yeah, you are the worst rancher's son ever. Then Cordell sees the fence is carved with a memorial to Hoyt. Aw.

He is also the sweetest thing.

So. Less drama than last week. More warmth. A ridiculous B story that was as annoying as giving Cas his own plot. Will I still watch next week? Yeah, probably. I have questions. How did Grandpa know they were alpacas? Where is the baby daddy? Can Cordell and his rancher father really not tell the difference between a male and female alpaca? Why is Geri riding the bus home, when her car is at the Walker's? Why is she avoiding the Walker Ranch? Will August ever get his own plot again?

It's just a shame that this episode didn't have any shout-outs to Supernatural, like the last one did...

[anonniemousefics]

My Dearest Inej | Chapter Nine

Chapter Masterlist

Originally posted on AO3

Rating: Teen And Up

Synopsis: A series of letters kept among the personal belongings of Captain Inej Ghafa.

Chapter Nine: Temporary Arrangements 

My dearest Inej,  

I think I’ve stared at the window for the last hour, at the spot where you said you’re in love with me. This can’t be normal behavior, and I should probably be more concerned. Tell me you’re as distracted as I am.  

I think I like kissing, but thorough reconnaissance ought to be conducted before we make any real conclusions. At least a hundred similar nights ought to do it, don’t you think? We should really know this thing inside and out – a sentence that I did not intend as a double entendre and now I immediately regret writing it. I would ordinarily be throwing this out and starting again. But you said you wanted it all, not just the sides of me that are acceptable and amusing. So, here we are and now you know. I’m only human and sometimes I write regrettable things in black ink.

Are you’re enjoying how flummoxed you’ve left me? Because I’ve reached truly unprecedented levels of flummox. I’ve done hardly anything this week. I’ve spent a fair amount of time moving some stocks and shares around, and given the high return on investment I’m gaining back from that, I should probably be spending more of my time pencil-pushing anyway.  

Gods, I’m boring myself. I’d rather be kissing you again. I’d rather be kissing you than doing just about anything else.

Will you still be amenable to kissing me again if the aftermath of our first kiss turns me into a simple moon-faced, pencil-pushing mercher? Inquiring minds need to know.

It’s mine, full disclosure. It’s my inquiring mind. Tell me when I’ll be able to kiss you next. Come home and flummox me again.  

With a disgusting and mortifying amount of affection,

I’m yours,

Kaz  

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My most perplexing Inej,

This letter of yours, Inej, was a bit of a ride. It starts out so well, and then… Why wouldn’t you just tell me about the teeth grinding while you were here, if it was that bad? I could have done something, and then you might have slept better. Now what am I expected to do? I can’t very well experiment with solutions on my own, now can I?  

I don’t know how to answer any of your questions. Am I meant to read these as concern or condescension? I suppose I still have teeth because it’s not actually as bad as you’re hyperbolizing. I don’t know why my jaw doesn’t hurt. Or maybe it does. Maybe you’ve never met me – something literally always hurts. You live with pain long enough, and it gets difficult to discern after awhile.

Damnit, Inej. This is going to bother me.

I’m not ready to be angry. It’s too nice being flummoxed. I propose a change in subject.

Jesper and Wylan have done something dumb. There have been a string of break-ins in their neighborhood, which I could easily have taken care of for them, but instead Wylan’s gone and decided they need a dog. Which is beyond me – he lives with the best marksman I’ve ever known. A dog isn’t going to improve their situation. And certainly not the dog they’ve picked out.  

I think it’s supposed to be some kind of hound someday, but it’s barely weaned from its mother. They’ve named it Ambroos, and the name is bigger than the dog itself. It can fit in the middle of a single kitchen tile. It’s not going to protect them from anything except respectability. I’ve been told it’s already peed on every surface in the house and howls at least four times a night.  

Inej, it is so useless and stupid and fucking delightful. It will actually trip over its own ears when it runs to greet you at the door. It sleeps with this hot water bottle that’s nearly twice its size. I find myself visiting it almost every lunch hour. I hate myself. You have to come see it.

All of this goes to say, you have two equally grim options for sleeping arrangements when you return next month. You get to choose between my teeth grinding or Ambroos’ whining and house breaking. You’re really excited to visit now, aren’t you?  

Yours,

Kaz

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Inej, most charming treasure of my heart,  

Miscommunications happen. We’ll call it water under the bridge. Incidentally, once I stopped grumbling, I did visit a medik for some recommendations. Wouldn’t it be something if maybe my jaw had been hurting this whole time, and I wake up one morning and find myself less loathe to face the day? Maybe you’re about to change my life again.

The medik gave me some muscle relaxer that might help with the way stress manifests at night. You are going to be so entertained with how I’m about to test this out.

I’m staying at Jesper and Wylan’s this weekend. We’re all sleeping in the parlor and taking turns trying to get Ambroos to do his business outside instead of on the rug. They’ll let me know how this muscle relaxer works.  

Remember this moment if you find yourself doubting the depths of my love for you, Inej. Think of me standing outside alone in the cold, dark night with the tiniest, dumbest dog in Kerch, all in the hopes that you will sleep comfortably in my bed next month.  

Fine – if we’re being completely honest, the dog listens to me, for some inexplicable reason. Jesper and Wylan begged for my help, and we made an arrangement. But the depths of my love thing is still true.

Yours,

Kaz

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Our strong and stalwart Inej,  

We send our deepest regrets, but we have to do it. We tried for three nights, but now we’re lying to Kaz and telling him the muscle relaxer works. He can’t stay here again; it’s too awful. The only thing it does is make him sleep like the dead, and then he was absolutely no help with Ambroos at all. So, we’re sending him home and it’s up to you now. Our hands are too full with house breaking for this particular nonsense, too.  

Good luck and godspeed, old friend. That is a truly abhorrent sound you’ve discovered.

Our hats are off to you.  

With deepest respect and sympathy,

Jesper and Wylan

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

My dearest Inej,

Well, the arrangement failed. Jesper and Wylan obviously cannot withstand the dreaded teeth grinding. They’ve just lied to my face and sent me back to The Slat.  

I wish I’d known I was capable of torturing with so little effort. The things I could have been doing with all that extra free time. I’d probably have far fewer scars on my knuckles.

Never fear, my love. I am not so easily deterred. I think I’ll pay a visit to a Fabrikator this week. Maybe I just need to have my jaw wired shut.

This evening took an interesting twist while I was in the middle of writing this letter to you. Someone knocked on the front door of The Slat. No one ever knocks. And then some events transpired, and now there’s a kid asleep in my bathtub. Don’t worry – he won’t try to kill me in my sleep tonight. I’ve locked him in. (Calm down – there’s a toilet, there’s water. What else could a person need?)

Explanations.  

There was a kid who tried to mug me on the street one evening a couple months back. I think I told you about it, if you ever got that letter. He had made his own shiv. He was incredibly stupid. I did what I had to do and left him with my card. He had the looks of a good spy, but far too much foolhardy self-assuredness. The Barrel needed to break him a bit more. The Barrel always does.  

It’s been cold here this week, and raining. It’s been raining for days. And it seems the kid got desperate enough.  

He came knocking tonight, and Pim brought him up. Probably twelve or thirteen by the looks of him, though he’s on the smaller side. I don’t think he’s been eating well. He’s Kaelish and homely as hell, with the red hair and freckles and a giant gap in his teeth. He said his name’s Arthur Galligan. He said he goes by Artie, and he wants to join the Dregs.

For the record, I didn’t want to. I’d much rather leave him on the streets and pay him for information. We have no room here in The Slat. Recruitment has been at all-time high. And Artie’s got that mean, unpredictable spark in his beady eyes still and a smart mouth to go with it. He does not have the air of someone easy to rein in. I fully expect him to try to stab me again.  

I don’t know what it is I like about him.  

And it’s too cold and wet for anyone to be sleeping outside. We gave him some dry clothes and the only available place in The Slat to sleep: my bathtub. I’ve moved the bed in front of the door so he can’t get out and slit my throat in the night when my teeth grinding inevitably pushes him to the brink of insanity.  

I am as dumb as Jesper and Wylan, aren’t I? Damnit.  

If I’m found dead in the morning, let this letter serve as evidence of the perpetrator’s identity and motives. Avenge me, Inej.

Yours until my untimely demise,

Kaz

P.S. – I just had this blinding image of the face you’re making while you’re reading this. I will find another room to lock this kid in while you’re here, I swear it. There will not be some Kaelish mugger in my bathtub while you’re in my bed. This is a temporary arrangement. Just so we’re clear.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Kaz -

Please tell me you let Artie out of your bathroom. Did you ask him anything at all about how he got to Ketterdam? About where his parents are? Is he being fed?? I’ll be there in a week – do not kill this kid before then.

And, for Saint’s sake, stop locking him up alone in rooms in The Slat. Sankta Alina, Kaz. I would stab you, too.

With love and exasperation,

Inej

P.S. – I’m bringing earplugs. Don’t you dare let a Fabrikator anywhere near your mouth. I only just started kissing you. I am not letting you ruin it now with a bunch of wires.

[spoon-writes]

Ends of the Earth | Chapter 16

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Pairing: Mando x OC

Read on FFN or AO3

Summary: When Sinead's husband is ripped from her, she escapes the Hutt Empire and goes on a quest to find him. Since being a runaway slave in the Outer Rim isn't exactly easy, she makes the Mandalorian an offer he can't refuse and soon they travel across the galaxy, looking for her missing husband.

Chapter index

Chapter 16 - Sinead Get Your Gun

"Stop! I'll do it!"

The yellow orb stopped a few centimeters from Sinead's face.

The Master's lips curled into an imitation of a smile and stepped back, extinguishing the yellow light. "That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

Sinead let out a shaky breath. The room suddenly felt ice cold.

"Let her go!" Mando was straining against the guards holding him back.

"Certainly. As soon as you're done with the fight, you're both free to go."

"Now."

The Master chuckled. "That's not possible, I'm afraid. What's to stop you from trying to escape if we don't have some … collateral. I assure you she'll be perfectly safe."

She wished she could see Mando's face. He didn't look at her.

"If anything happens to her …"

The Master's smile grew wider.

"You have my word.

… … … … …

Sinead was dragged to another room a few doors down. It was smaller and bare except for a chair sitting in front of the window. The glass, which spanned the room, wasn't flawless but had a seam running down through the middle. One guard pushed her down on the chair with a rough order not to move. He needn't bother; all but two guards had left with Mando and the Master, but these two were armed to the teeth, and her entire body still felt like jelly that had been forced through a sieve. 

The crowd wasn't happy about the delay, and she could feel, as well as hear, their anger through the thick glass.

"He needs to get on with it if he doesn't want a riot on his hands," said the Duros guard.

The Weequay guard grunted. "Ungrateful bastards. The Master's givin' them something to gawk at for decades, least they could do is shut up an' let him do it."

"Let's hope your Mandalorian is up for the task," the Duros said, brushing a cold finger along the back of Sinead's neck, and she flinched to the side.

The guards laughed, and Sinead ignored them. This was all her fault, but there had to be a way to fix it.

Breathe.

"Look likes the Ringmaster's ready," said the Duros, his raspy voice nearly drowned out by the screaming crowd as the Nautolan stepped up on the platform.

"LADIES AND GENTS, WE APOLOGIZE FOR THE DELAY. TURNS OUT WE HAVE A NEW CHALLENGER COME TO TEST HIS METTLE AGAINST THE ULTIMATE FIGHTER! WILL THIS STRANGER LEAVE WITH HONOR OR WILL HIS BLOOD DRENCH THE SAND!"

Sinead swallowed thickly, her stomach turning at the thought of the kid waiting for them back at the ship.

"FIRST, WE HAVE OUR REIGNING CHAMPION FROM THE DEEP JUNGELS OF KASHYYYK, THE BLOODIED, THE DARKNESS FROM RWOOKRRORRO, UANNKA THE WOOKIEE!"

A Wookiee appeared sprinting up a ramp, long legs quickly carrying him to the middle of the arena. His brown fur was shorter than most Wookiee's and he wore an intricate helmet that glinted in the sharp light. One paw held a heartlance as long as his body. He lifted it to thunderous applause.

The Duros' coarse laugh filled the room. "Your man is kriffed going up against the champion."

"Bet the Master is tryin' to kill him. No one stands a chance against the Bloodied," said the Weequay.

She tried tuning them out while her mind spun wildly out of control. Mando could take care of himself, but even he would get overpowered eventually. She doubted the Master would ever let them go even if Mando managed to get out of the arena alive.

The Ringmaster continued, "THE CHALLENGER TODAY DESCENDS FROM A PROUD WARRIOR RACE NOW MERELY A DYING ECHO IN THE GALAXY. WILL THIS ONE LIVE UP TO THE REPUTATION OF HIS ANCESTORS? BEHOLD, THE MANDALORIAN!"

Mando walked slowly up the ramp, every movement careful and calculated in stark contrast to the Wookiee, who swung his heartlance and roared so loudly that Sinead felt the air's vibrations.

They met in the middle where Mando motionlessly watched Uannka pace back and forth in the sand, puffing out his chest and roaring.

The Weequay leaned against the glass. "Look at that little shiv they've given him."

Sinead strained her eyes and saw that Mando was indeed wielding a blade barely a foot long, nothing compared to Uannka's force pike.

"Probably not even vibro."

"Barely fit to gut a gwerp."

Down on the arena floor, Uannka stopped pacing and was staring down Mando, who didn't move a muscle while Uannka blustered.

"WHO WILL EMERGE VICTORIOUS AND WHO WILL PROVE UNWORTHY?

LET THE FIGHTING BEGIN!"

It happened so fast. Barely had the echo died away before Uannka grabbed his heartlance in both hands and swung it at Mando, who twisted out of the way. The lance hit the ground and threw a cloud of sand up in the air.

They circled each other. Uannka lashed out again, and Mando stepped to the side, grabbing the lance as it passed his head. Uannka kicked out and caught Mando in the stomach, sending him sprawling on the sand.

Uannka followed and lifted his weapon.

Mando hurled a fistful of sand into the Wookiee's face. Uannka roared, and Mando rolled to his feet in one fluid motion. He dashed forward and sliced Uannka across the chest.

The blade barely broke the skin.

"See," Duros laughed. "Not even vibro."

Uannka jumped away and struck with his lance; it glanced off Mando's beskar pauldron.

"When he dies, you think she's going in the ring?" The Duros said.

"Won't put up much of a fight, will she?"

Sinead dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand.

A tinny voice coming from the Weequay forced Sinead back in the moment.

"Hey, Tyrsk!"

The Weequay scowled and pulled out a comlink. "This better be important," he spat, "The fight's started."

"We got a problem out here with one of the sponsors."

"Yeah? What's it got to do with me? I'm watchin' the prisoner."

"Just get your bony ass out here! We about to have a pissed off Wookiee on our hands."

Sinead sat still as a statue, trying to look as small and harmless as possible.

Tyrsk heaved a sigh. "Fine, I'm comin'. Don't get et before I get there." He looked at the Duros. "Make sure she doesn't move."

The Duros chuckled and fiddled with his blaster. "What's she gonna do? She's just a human girl."

"Just don't let her out of your sight, okay?" Tyrsk stomped across the floor, his pale eyes boring a hole into Sinead's back. "Need to do everything myself," he muttered before the door slammed shut behind him.

Now it was just Sinead and the Duros in the small room and his presence was a heavy weight beside her. Her ears prickled whenever he moved.

She wet her lips. "What ... what did this room use to be?"

"Shut it," the Duros said harshly and flicked her ear.

"It's odd having an empty room up here, is all, surrounded by all this wealth."

"I told you to shut it." The Duros' voice was deceptively calm. "Another word out of you, and I'll feed you to the akk dogs downstairs, ya hear? Just sit there and watch your Mandalorian be turned into ground beef."

Down on the arena floor, Mando went low and drew his blade across Uannka's thigh. The Wookiee fell to one knee to the crowds' delight. Blood dripped from the weapon as Mando backed out of reach.

"FIRST BLOOD HAS BEEN SPILLED!" The Ringmaster screamed.

Uannka got up and thundered towards Mando, roaring so loudly that Sinead felt it in her bones.

Her heart stuttered to a halt.

The heartlance glanced off Mando's armor, throwing sparks into the air. Uannka kept going, his momentum too strong.

He crashed into Mando, and they both went down.

Time slowed as neither of them moved. This was it. He was dead and she was next. A strangled sob escaped her as she though of the kid, waiting for them, not knowing that he would never see Mando again …

Uannka rolled over, and Mando slowly got to his feet. His blade was buried to the hilt in the Wookiee's chest.

The crowd exploded. There was no other word for it. They howled and screamed, jumping up and down until it felt like the arena was shaking.

Sinead let out a breathless laugh. He did it!

The Master watched silently from his throne.

"WHAT A SHOW! THE MANDALORIAN HAS TRULY PROVED HIMSELF TO BE A WORTHY OPPONENT! BUT WHAT WILL HE DO AGAINST A FEARSOME PREDATOR BRED IN THE DESERT OF FLORRUM?"

Mando scrambled back as a large portion of the arena fell away, and a scaly head appeared from the darkness. A long, gnarled body lumbered up the ramp.

Sinead had only seen an Oolo once before, in the palace on Sriluur. It had been a gift from Jabba to Slezza and had killed five palace guards before someone managed to put it down.

"Well, if the Bloodied didn't kill him …" the Duros snickered.

Once the Oolo was entirely out in the open, it reared back and hissed. It looked like a boulder come to life. Its battering-ram sized tail swung from side to side.

Mando dashed across the sand towards Uannka's heartlance.

Both Sinead and the Duros jumped when the door opened, and a new guard stuck his head through the crack.

"We need your help," he said, panting slightly. "The Wookiee's gone mad, we can't control him."

"Get someone from the lower levels to do it."

"They're out doing crowd control or dealing with the Mandalorian. C'mon, man!"

Once again, Sinead looked as small as possible. Please, please, please, I'm no threat to you. Leave!

The Duros opened his mouth but was cut off by a deep roar that did not come from the arena.

"Kriff!" the guard looked down the hall and his face paled. "Just lock the door behind her, what's she gonna do in an empty room?" He slammed the door shut just as another roar split the air.

The Duros pulled her up and checked her pockets for anything that could help her escape. When he didn't find anything, he pushed her back into the chair. "If you've moved so much as a centimeter when I come back, I'll throw you into the Pit. Understand?"

As soon as the door clicked shut, she sprang into action; she wedged the chair under the door even though it wouldn't be much of a challenge for an angry Duros, it could buy her a bit more time. Next, she circled the room, running a hand across the wall, checking for any gap or crack, but it was solid all the way around.

Years of use had turned the carpet into a brownish color instead of deep red, and scuff marks outlined where there once had been heavy furniture. Whatever the room had been, it was now empty, and it didn't look like they'd left anything behind when they cleared it out.

A boom shook the building. Sinead dashed across the floor to look down into the arena: the Oolo lifted its tail and smashed it into the ground, throwing up a tidal-wave of sand where it hit. Mando threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding getting pulverized.

Sinead fell to her knees. There had to be a way out.

The Oolo reared round and tried to squash Mando with its tail again. The window rattled, and she noticed that a small gap had appeared between the wall and the glass.

With shaking hands, she grabbed the frayed rug and pulled. It came away easily and bared the cold stone floor beneath. Once it was gone, she discovered that the glass ran on a small track that looked like it hadn't been used for a long time. A tiny keyhole was set into the sliding.

Was it for maintenance? It looked old and forgotten, the guards certainly hadn't been aware of it, otherwise they wouldn't have left her alone.

She pulled out two carpet pins and jammed them into the hole. Blood pounded in her ears and she shot a frantic look over her shoulder at the door. She kept losing her grip on the pins. One snapped and she threw it across the room.

"C'mon," she whispered, wiping her sweaty brow with the back of her hand.

Suddenly, the mechanism clicked in place and the glass moved a centimeter before getting stuck with a grinding sound.

Sinead jammed her fingers into the crack and heaved, ignoring her screaming muscles.

Slowly, the window moved.

The deafening noise from the crowd nearly knocked her back. Thousands of voices joined together to make an unintelligible howl.

A narrow ledge ran alongside the window just wide enough for her to walk on without falling to her death.

Down in the arena, the Oolo brought its front legs down on the ground with a resounding boom. Mando jumped out of its field of vision, and it reared back, its big yellow eyes scanning the arena.

Mando appeared beneath the Oolo. The creature hissed when it saw him, spitting globs of venom. Its eyes narrowed.

Sinead couldn't look away.

As the Oolo came down, Mando thrust the lance between the Oolo's armored plates between its front legs. Its scream reverberated in Sinead's head.

She took a deep breath and stepped out on the worn stone. The air was hot and dry. It felt like she was back on Sriluur. A metallic smell of blood permeated everything.

Pressing herself against the cold, smooth glass, she inched her way along the ledge, hoping that the rooms would be empty.

A shriek went through the crowd, and Sinead instinctively looked down; she'd never been scared of heights, but the fact that the only thing standing between her and a deadly drop was a couple of centimeters of crumbling stone made her head spin and her mouth taste like cobber.

Mando backed up as three nexu stalked across the sand, their wide mouths open in a terrible grin.

She tore her eyes away to concentrate on the perilous walk. As long as nobody looked up, she would make it. Had the two guards discovered that she had escaped?

Suddenly the glass fell away, and she tumbled into the repository, or whatever it was. The world spun as she buried her fingers in the carpet, allowing herself to feel the solid ground before getting to her feet. The floor was littered with broken glass and ancient weapons which had yet to be cleared away. She grabbed a strange looking blaster on her way across the floor and concealed it under the back of her shirt. Pressing an ear to the door, she tried to still her beating heart enough to hear. There were sounds of running feet and anther ear-splitting roar; so Feyvik was still going.

She peeked into the corridor. Sounds of fighting just around the corner made her run the opposite direction. She had no idea where she was running to, only that she had to get out of there.

Shadows appeared on the wall, and her heart stopped.

A door opened next to her, and with a quick decision, she shoved it open and dove inside. A terrified servant yelped, and Sinead clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Shhh!" She hissed, shooting a frightened look at the door. It sounded like a whole battalion sprinted by outside.

The room was a small kitchen, a stone counter and an unlit heater the only furniture. A door led into another room.

The servant shook under Sinead's hand.

A distinct Wookiee roar cut through the air and gave Sinead an idea.

"What are you doing here?" She ripped her hands away.

"I-I was just-"

"There's a Wookiee running rampant on this floor! We have to get out of here! Now!"

The servant's legs gave out under her, and Sinead had to grab her again to keep her from falling.

"Listen-"Sinead hauled her to the nearest counter and sat her down- "who else is up here?"

The servant blubbered, and Sinead shook her. For the plan to work, she had to keep the servant off balance. "Well?"

"I'm the only one up here. The Master-"

"Is there another way out of here? The stairs aren't safe." For me, anyway.

The pale servant nodded slowly and pointed a shaking finger at a metal square set into the wall. Sinead pressed a button beside it, and it opened to reveal a small lift, barely big enough for a person.

"Where does it lead to?"

"Kitchen down in the Undercroft. The big one."

"Right." Sinead crossed the floor and grabbed the servant. "In you go."

"W-what? I can't fit in there!"

Another roar sounded closer than before.

"You'd rather stay?"

Sinead helped the servant squeeze into the lift. Once she was tucked in, Sinead's finger hovered over the down button. "When you get down there, you need to tell everyone to run. Master's orders."

"But why would he-"

"Have you ever seen what an angry Wookiee can do to a person? Do you want to?"

The servant looked like she was about to faint.

"Remember! You have to run."

Once the lift closed, she had to work fast on some kind of distraction.

A stack of crates in the corner grabbed her attention and she tore the lid away and peered inside, finding dark bottles packed in sawdust. She turned one of the bottles over. Cassandran Choholl. Very useful. Very flammable.

She grabbed as many bottles as she could carry and kicked open the other door, hoping the servant was right when she said that she was alone. The door opened into a study, the only light coming from the window. It seemed that care had been taken to make the room completely soundproof, as the constant hum from the crowd faded away as soon as she stepped inside.

She threw one of the bottles as hard as she could. It flew through the air and landed on the desk, smashing into a thousand pieces. The air was filled with a sharp, sweet smell that made Sinead's nose itch.

The rest of the bottles followed. The last one was upended on the floor,

trailing back

to the door, which she propped open with a vase. Even if she ended up dying, there was a sort of solace to be found in the fact that she had wasted more credits than she would ever see in a lifetime in just a minute.

She needed fire. Every cabinet under the counter was thrown open and the content pulled out on the floor. Her mouth was dry as she frantically tried to find anything useful. It was clear this kitchen was rarely used. At least not for any fire-making purposes.

A sack at the very back of a cupboard fell over and spilled a small amount of white powder on the floor. As she pulled it out, a cloud of white whirled into the air. Flour. She could use that.

The lift whirred as it reached the kitchen down below. Sinead punched the button to call it back. That done, she flung the sack around, coating the entire room in flour. It rose like a wave around her, coating the inside of her mouth and nose. For a moment, it was all she could see.

The ancient heater groaned as she turned a knob and a small, blue flame appeared between the scorched metal.

As soon as the lift appeared, she threw herself into the small space. The last thing she saw before the lift doors closed was the cloud of flour growing bigger and the lone flame flickering on the heater. She had to curl up to fit in the lift, her knees pressed against her chest and her head bent at an unnatural angle. The contraception whirred and shook violently. The lift became smaller and smaller. Her clothes stank of Choholl, the smell enough to make her dizzy.

Just as the cold fingers of panic had closed around her throat, the doors opened. She rolled out onto the cold stone floor. The kitchen was empty.

She was picking herself up from the floor when a boom shook the building, and a blast of hot air shot out of the open lift, which jumped, and the rope holding it snapped, sending it falling into the darkness with a crash.

There were screams from up above and thunderous footsteps on the other side of the door. Once they died away, she stole into the stairwell.

The undercroft was in complete chaos. Panicked shouts filled the big chamber, workers dashed between each other, hauling ropes or cages across the floor.

No one noticed an extra person join in the confusion.

Most of the remaining workers were prepping three akk dogs to be sent up. The creatures snarled and snapped at anyone getting too close to their cages.

Sinead's eyes were drawn to the holoprojector by the large control panel showing a translucent Mando running from the last nexu. The other two lay dead beside the Oolo.

All the guards were gone, and she still had the strange blaster; taking out the lone worker operating the controls would be easy. Until someone attacked her with an electro whip, that is.

Instead, she hurried into the adjacent chamber where the caged slaves were up and whispering amongst themselves. Fear and confusion hung in the air.

Only two guards were walking back and forth between the cages. One of them brought his electrostaff down on the bars, sending a shower of sparks into the air.

"Shut up!" he bellowed.

She found Belan and slunk up beside the cage.

"You're alive," he whispered, wrinkling his brows when he saw her flour-covered appearance. "The explosion, that was you?"

"No time," she ground out. "Need you to distract the guards."

"How?"

"Figure something out."

She moved back into the shadows as he pushed his way to the top of the cage and waited until one of the guards was right beside him. His hands shot out and grabbed the guard, slamming him against the bars.

"Get off me, you little whelp!" The guard tried to snatch his blaster, but new hands grabbed his arms and held them down.

"Hey! Let him go!" the other guard ran forwards, brandishing his electrostaff.

Sinead pulled out the blaster, took aim, and fired.

A small projectile exploded out of the blaster with an ear-splitting bang and an acrid smell of chemicals. The kickback almost wrenched it out of her hand.

The guard stumbled and fell to the ground.

A dirty hand snaked around the last guard and grabbed his blaster, and he went down with a strangled scream, a smoking hole in his back.

"Get us out of here!" someone screamed.

Wires ran from all the cages to a mechanism bolted on the wall, with a simple lever that she grabbed and pulled. Every door beeped and slid to the side simultaneously. Soon the chamber was filled with thin bodies clamoring towards the sewer entrance, nearly lifting Sinead off her feet. She was shoved against a hitherto unseen workstation hidden between the cages, the sharp edge cutting into her hip. Cards from a game of sabacc were scattered across the surface.

She was about to fight her way through the crowd when something peeking out from under the workstation caught her eye and she pulled it out.

An old datapad fell into her hands, one of those without any light that flickered to a new page when you pressed a small button at the bottom of the screen. In the dimly lit chamber all she could make out was a long list of names and a number. She shoved it under her shirt and out of the way.

Panic spread among the newly freed captives as the sewer remained shut. Sinead was shoved as some of the group turned and ran for the tunnel, spilling into the main chamber. Sounds of fighting reached her, and she fought her way through the mass of bodies.

Most of the workers ran when the slaves appeared; some grabbed the nearest weapon, but they didn't stand a chance against the press of panicked people. Sinead watched as a worker brandishing an electro-whip was swarmed until he turned and ran.

Sinead made her way to the control panel. Panic from the freed slaves and her own fear made her vision blur.

The translucent Mando was still alive, but the last nexu was nearing, and he had lost the lance. When it came too close, he shot a burst of fire from his gauntlet that made the nexu rear back before the flame died away.

She looked over the control panel. There were so many buttons and levers.

The akk dogs howled.

"Screw this," she mumbled and pressed a big red button.

The mechanisms groaned as the three cages were lifted into the air. A portion of the ceiling slid down.

"No, no, no, no, NO!" She watched horrified as the creatures lumbered up the ramps to thunderous applause.

On the holoprojector, Mando threw himself to the side at the last second, and the nexu tore into one of the akk dogs, the nexu's long claws ripping into its flanks.

She started slapping the console, eyes fixed on the hologram, her breath coming out in shallow bursts. Cages opened and closed. Some were lifted high in the air or slammed into the ground.

Suddenly, a section of the ceiling fell away, and the Mandalorian rolled into the chamber in a cascade of sand.

… … … … …

Din's lungs were burning. He inched back, keeping an eye on the nexu, acutely aware that he was surrounded.

So this was how it would end. He hoped Sinead made it back to the ship, got the kid out of there. He tried to push the thought away.

The nexu crouched and opened its maw, emitting a foul stench of death and decay.

He wouldn't go down without a fight. The pain in his arm where another nexu had gotten him died away as his heart rate slowed.

This is the way.

The nexu pounced, and the ground vanished under his feet.

Din rolled backward down the ramp until suddenly he was falling. He crashed into the ground, knocking every last breath out of his chest.

The world spun. He tried to get up, but a weight landed on his chest, sharp claws tearing into his already wounded arm.

Something exploded above him and the weight disappeared.

He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

Hands grabbed his shoulders and shook him.

"Mando? Oh, please don't be dead."

Slowly, his vision cleared.

"Sinead?" He gasped out with his first breath.

"Thank the stars!" Her forehead hit his chest plate for a moment before she got up and pulled him with her. "We have to run!"

Muscles shook as he got to his feet. "… the … records-"

"No time!" She kept a hold on his uninjured hand and pulled him along.

As his head was clearing, he noticed that the chaos around them, empty cages and creatures fighting among themselves.

They ran up a flight of stairs, Din letting her lead the way while he came to grips with the fact that he was still alive.

Citizens of Strako, the ones who'd screamed for his blood just moments before, ran amok through the corridors. There were snarls and howls behind him as the creatures followed them up the stairs.

The cold night air hit him when they made it outside. No guards were manning the main entrance, no one stopped them as they disappeared into the city.

Strako rang out with screams that seemed louder in the night. Frantic citizens fled while snarling, roaring, howling creatures spilled from the arena.

They never stopped running.

The spaceport teemed with activity on the ground and in the air. Sinead took charge, shoving her way to the Crest, which stood untouched in its corner.

She was the first to get up the ramp and disappear into the ship. The child woke up with an angry screech as she thundered past his crib and scrambled up the ladder to the cockpit.

Din pressed the command to close the ramp and let himself slide down the wall with a pained grunt. His body buzzed with adrenaline. Leaning his head back and closing his eyes, he tried to slow his breathing.

The ship shook as it came to life and rose into the air, wobbling a bit before moving out of the spaceport.

Small hands tugged on his pant leg, and he opened his eyes. The child looked up at him with a scrunched face and drooping ears, gripping the doll tightly. He sensed when Din looked at him and made a pathetic little sound.

He was scared. The realization made Din's heart clench.

"It's okay," Din mumbled and lifted the kid onto his lap. "It's okay."

The kid pressed his face against Din's chest plate. The beskar had to be so cold and hard, but he still did it.

"It's okay."

Only when the ship had entered hyperspace, did Din allow himself to relax, letting some of the tension ebb out of his body. He didn't care where they were going, as long as it was away from Loovria. Another planet to add to his rapidly growing list of places he wanted to avoid at all costs.

His eyes drifted shut. With every beat of his heart, a stab of pain shot through his arm.

The sound of Sinead's boots hitting the floor brought him back. He just wanted to sleep.

"Mando?"

He looked at her. She strode across the floor, her hands fidgeting with white powder clinging to her hair and clothes.

"You … you're okay?"

He winced as he tried to sit up. "Yeah."

Sinead breathed out a sigh of relief. "I don't know where we're going. Just picked the first route out of here."

"We'll figure it out."

Her face was drawn under the harsh lights. "Mando, I'm…" she stopped, biting her lower lip.

The child made a sound as Din shifted him to cradle him against his chest before trying to stand up.

Sinead was there, grabbing his uninjured arm and pulling him towards the bunk. His first instinct was to shake her off, tell her that he could handle it himself. But he didn't. He was just so tired.

Bloodlets fell from his fingertips, and the kid reached for the injury. He made an angry sound as Sinead grabbed him and pulled him away.

"You need help with that?" Her eyes were fixated on the dripping blood, ignoring the wriggling kid in her arms.

"I got it," Din grunted. Gritting his teeth, he carefully peeled the glove off.

It was a mess. Two puncture wounds on the back of his hand seemed to be the source of most of the blood, but he could feel other injuries further up his forearm. If it hadn't been for the beskar, he wouldn't have an arm left to patch up.

With a sharp intake of breath, Sinead stepped closer while making sure the kid stayed in her arms. "Fuck," she breathed.

"It's fine." It really wasn't, but he didn't know what else to say. He gave up trying to roll his sleeve over the injuries, instead cutting the fabric away with a nearby knife.

Sinead put down the child and raced to the nearest compartment. "I used the last t' pala paste. Stupid."

"Sinead, you don't have to …" he watched as she ripped open another compartment and rifled through the contents. Pain pulsed through his arm in a steady rhythm, reaching all the way up to his shoulder. The wounds on his forearm would be easy enough to fix, but his hand was a whole other question; the nerves, tendons, and bones would take little more than a bandage.

The kid tried to climb onto the bunk, and Din halfheartedly pushed him away.

"Got it!"

Sinead turned, a bacta patch clutched in her hands, one he didn't even remember getting. Bacta was so expensive in the Outer Rim that he usually did without it. She dragged an empty box across the floor and sat down in front of him, her legs brushing against his. He watched her as she grabbed the knife and carefully cut the packet open.

"What are you doing?" He instinctively leaned back, trying to get more space between them.

"An old trick I learned in the palace. If you have a lot of injuries and not a lot of bacta, you do this." The tip of her tongue poked out between her lips as she cut the last three sides. A sickly sweet smell quickly spread through the hull. "These things can't really be reused. Not very useful in this situation."

He let her nervous chatter and the hum from the ship's engine wash over him. Pain was the only reason he hadn't already drifted off to sleep.

Something warm touched his arm and he jumped, his other hand shooting out to protect himself.

Sinead stared wide-eyed up at him. He'd grabbed her wrist so hard, she had dropped a piece of cloth that fluttered to the floor.

"Sorry," she breathed. "I thought you were asleep."

He blinked hard and let go of her wrist. The new adrenaline spike made his head spin. Had she gotten up to get the rag? The kid was back in his crib, trying to climb over the side, so she must have.

"Wasn't," he mumbled.

She bent down and grabbed the rag from the floor. "I'm just going to clean up the blood, okay?" Her voice was soft.

"Can do it myself." He reached out for the cloth, but she kept it out of his reach.

"Just relax. I know what I'm doing."

Instincts honed by years alone in the Outer Rim screamed out to push her away, to find a secluded place and mend his wounds alone. Here, he was helpless, vulnerable. If she wanted, she could kill him right now, and he wouldn't be able to stop her.

He couldn't suppress a shudder when she touched his wrist, gently turning his hand. She stopped at the movement, her eyes flickering to his. "This is probably gonna hurt."

He nodded slowly.

Biting her lower lip, she set to work on cleaning the blood, which had mostly stopped flowing. Some of it had already dried, and she rubbed carefully, watching him for any sign of pain.

He gritted his teeth, focusing his eyes on a hook hanging from the ceiling. Pain coursed through his arm, but that wasn't the most distracting part. Pain he was used to. Sinead's touch was light and gentle as she worked, now and again glancing up at him as if she could see his face, looking for any sign of discomfort. When she moved her hand, she left a tingling sensation just beneath his skin.

She left the rag on the bunk, out of the kid's reach. He had given up trying to get to Din and was sulking on the floor.

"Can you hold this, please?"

Din held the bacta patch in his good hand, and she opened it carefully, taking care to not spill any of the gel. Instead of just a gob of bacta, there was a wad of gauze drenched in the gel, and she peeled off the first see-through sheet.

"Worst part's over." She smiled up at him, but it didn't fully reach her eyes.

She started from the top, carefully placing the paper over a gash. Immediately, it was like Din had submerged his arm in water so cold it dulled all other senses.

"It takes longer to work this way, and there'll be some scarring, but it's better than nothing."

A few more scars didn't really make a difference.

She worked in silence. Din watched her through heavy-lidded eyes.

"Mando …" she said, breaking him out of his daze. "I'm so sorry about all of this …" She stared intently at his wounded arm. "This is my fault. I should never have asked you to do this."

His brows furrowed. "But you didn't? The Pau'an-"

"That's not what I meant." She brushed a few tendrils of hair that had escaped her braid out of her face and left a bloody mark across her cheek. "I should never have asked you to pretend to be a fighter, or leave you with Rundu while I run off blindly, getting both of us caught."

He tried to summon the anger he had felt when she left him with the Neimoidian, but the bacta and her touch made it hard to feel anything at all.

"Thank you."

Her hands stilled, and their eyes met. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Din was the first one to look away, not sure what to say. His eyes fell on the blaster Sinead had left on the floor when she first entered the Crest. Suddenly, the explosion he'd heard made sense.

"Where d'you find a slugthrower?"

She looked over her shoulder at the weapon. "From the Master's collection."

"And the flour?"

Sinead looked confused for a moment before huffing out a laugh. "Oh, that. My little distraction." She scratched the side of her nose, leaving more blood. "My mother told me if I ever needed a big explosion, to find the kitchen and get my hands on whatever loose powder I could find. Every place has a kitchen. Well, except this one." She gestured with a bloodied hand to the rest of the ship.

"There's a galley."

She shot him a wry smile. "No, there's not. Just because you weld a cooker and a cold box to the inside of a gunship doesn't mean it's a galley."

"Mhm." He allowed himself to smile and leaned his head against the wall. Sinead's touch was becoming almost hypnotic.

The next thing he remembered was Sinead standing up, having wrapped the last of the bacta around his hand.

"You go get some rest. I'll clean this up," she said, going to the sink and cleaning her hands. Din noticed the blood down her shirt and in a puddle on the floor. The child had fallen asleep leaning up against his crib.

"I'm fine."

"You can't be fine, you nearly got your arm bitten off." She lifted the child and put him in his crib. "Go. I promise the world won't end just because you get some well-deserved rest."

It felt like it would.

"But-"

"Mando." The word came out in a sigh. "The bacta won't work properly unless you sleep. There's nothing here for you to do."

He looked at the kid sleeping peacefully in his crib. "If anything happens, come get me."

"Okay."

"I mean it."

"Okay!" She held her hand up, palms out. "If, for whatever reason, anything happens while we're hurtling through hyperspace, I promise I'll come and get you."

Din grunted and rolled his eyes under the helmet.

The door to the storage space closed behind him, and he slipped off his helmet, taking a deep breath of recycled air. It was over.

He crawled onto the cot, not bothering to get out of the rest of his armor. His body felt heavy, and it was like his arm didn't know whether to hurt or to tingle. Quickly, the smell of bacta spread in the small room.

The last thing he remembered before drifting away was the sound of Sinead knocking around on the other side of the door.

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[ketchupsupreme]

A Rose By Any Other Name

A/N: So I finally decided to post one of my short stories on here. Enjoy reading and if you like it, how about a like or a reblog? Ha look at me, shamelessly promoting myself. Anyways, enjoy and all critiques are welcome!                         

                                                 Phillip

He hated this room. He hated the purple lights. He hated the soft glow they emitted and how they made everything seem washed out and dead. He hated the window and the city that he could see burning outside, smoke and fire turning the sky into an angry red hue. He hated the screaming that he could hear from the streets even though the room was on the topmost floor. He hated the scrabbling and the whirring of the machines that roamed outside, the ones that had turned his existence into a living hell. Most of all, he hated himself. Hated himself for not being able to walk outside that apartment and forget about everything. Forget about the machines. Forget about that other world. Forget about her. He almost hated her. Almost. It was his devotion to her, his obsession with trying to break her free from the world that they had constructed that kept him from leaving and forgetting all about her. Every time he said this lie out loud, he almost believed it. He loved her and she loved him. It was his fault that she was trapped, stuck in a world that she believed was real. He walked over to the chair, the purple lights making her look like a corpse. Her long black hair, greasy and snarled from months of not showering, still looked beautiful to him. It was the first thing that he had noticed all those years ago before the machines came. Then he had noticed her eyes, that startling shade of blue that bordered on neon that for years after they started dating, still fascinated him. Now he couldn’t see them, not when they were covered by the black visor that transported her to the other world. His skin pimpled with disgust as he stared at the wires that were connected to the visor, to her forehead, to her chest. He stared at the heart monitor, the machine beeping. He touched her arm, his fingers tracing over her cool skin. He missed her smile, her laughter, her eyes sparking as if electricity ran through them. He wanted to tear that visor off, to hear her laugh, to see her eyes open and to feel her heart race again. He wanted to tear those wires off her face, to smash the visor to the ground, to have her awake again. He wanted to hug her, to kiss her, to apologize for what he did to her. He knew that there was only one way to awaken her. He kissed her gently, wishing with all his might that that would be enough to wake her. It wasn’t. It never was. There was only one way. He would have to go into the other world and guide her through it until the end. That was how he had woken up. That was how he would wake her. Then they could escape this room and try to live a life away from machines. He grabbed the second visor, the one that lay next to her. He slipped it on, his breathing becoming erratic, fingers trembling as he thumbed the right switches, pressed the appropriate buttons. He settled down next to her in the other chair, his entire body screaming at him to tear visor off, that he could get trapped again, that he wouldn’t be able to come out. He silenced them and he pressed the final button, his vision tunneling as his brain and his consciousness were transported to another world. His body slumped as the purple lights in the room flashed and then dimmed again, the quiet humming noise drowning out the screams that flowed up from the street.

                                                 Talia

“One more game and you owe me all the money in your purse Lyle,” I said, chuckling as I shuffled the cards, making sure that I slipped a few choice cards into my sleeve. I placed the deck on the table, dealing them and squashing a grin when I saw the hand that I had been dealt. I placed a few coins on the table, all of them gold.

“Listen to me, girl, I have never lost a game of cards in this tavern and I don’t plan on losing now,” the old man said, grinning as he placed a winning hand down on the table. Well, a winning hand in almost any situation… except this one.

“I’ll expect my gold tomorrow at the latest,” I said, pretending to stifle a yawn as I placed my cards down. I stood up, cracking my back and working out the kinks in my neck. Lyle stared at the cards in disbelief, his face changing from an interesting shade of red to a horrified white.

“You cheated,” he said, his voice cracking as he stared at the cards. “You must have cheated! No one can draw cards that good on just luck!”

I laughed again, tying my long black hair back in one quick fluid motion. In that motion however, the cards that I had put into my sleeve fell out. They fluttered down to the table, Lyle’s bulbous, watery grey eyes following the cards descent to the table. A weak chuckle escaped my lips.

“Listen, Lyle, you know what never mind about you owing me your gold, let’s call it even and say our goodbyes now,” I said, backing away from the table.

“CHEAT!” he roared, throwing a glass full of ale directly at my head. I ducked, scrambling for the stairs as he flipped the table over. With that simple flip, the entire tavern exploded into chaos. Men began swinging at each other, ale and wine flying everywhere. It didn’t matter what the fight was about. Once a glass had been thrown, everyone in the tavern was fair game. Women smashed bottles into the sides of random heads, and windows were broken, glass showering onto the wooden floor. A thud sounded from one of the bedrooms upstairs and I wondered if some playful couple had fallen out of the bed. As I laughed silently at the mental image, Lyle grabbed me by my hair, snapping me out of my fantasy, and pulled me back into the fray, letting go when I slammed an elbow into his face, his nose breaking instantly. Sandra, Lyle’s wife, screeched and attempted to rake her nails down my face. I batted her hand aside, laughing when the barmaid slammed a glass onto her head. She crumpled to the ground, next to her husband who was sporting a bloody and broken nose. He glared up at me and pulled out a small knife. Shit. Seemed like someone had not listened to the “No Weapons” rule within the tavern. To be fair, I hadn’t either, but that was neither here nor there. I pulled out my own small dagger, the red crystal embedded on the pommel glinting in the candlelight of the tavern. I wasn’t going to kill him of course; I was just going to make sure that he knew never to cross me. As I got into position for a knife fight, I felt the entire bar freeze. Everyone froze where they were, including me, and it wasn’t a voluntary action. We were all quite literally frozen in place. I was lucky enough to be facing the stairs when my body froze so I knew exactly who would be coming down those stairs. That was what that thud had been. He must be awake already.

“What in the hell is this?” he asked, his hand outstretched as he worked his magic on the bar. Phillip walked down the stairs, releasing us all with a twist of his hand. As the spell broke, the occupants and I collapsed to the floor, the spell having stopped all momentum in our bodies. Phillip walked over to me and extended a hand. I reached up and grabbed it, letting him pull me up. He tossed a couple of coins onto Lyle’s prone from with a whispered apology and motioned for me to follow him outside. As he walked out the door of the tavern, I walked over to Lyle, crouching down in front of him.

“You still owe me Lyle,” I said, swiping the coins off of his chest and depositing them into my own purse. “Consider this my payment.” I flicked his nose and ran out the building.

                                                         ////

Phillip was outside the bar, waiting for me to emerge. The minute I did, he began scolding me.

“Are you stupid? What if you had gotten yourself killed? What then? I can’t heal the dead, Talia! You have to be more careful” He paused, taking a deep breath as he calmed himself.

“I’m sorry,” I said, hanging my head in mock regret. After a few seconds of not saying anything, I peeked up at him. What I saw in his eyes startled me. It was almost like grief. I hugged him, feeling his body stiffen, and then after one long second, hugging me back. “I’ll be more careful, I promise. Besides, it’ll take someone stronger and faster than Lyle Skane to take me down. Don’t worry so much.”

He chuckled and disengaged from the hug. He began walking down the road towards the outskirt of the village and the forest beyond, motioning for me to follow him. I felt excited. After two days in this dreary village, we were finally moving on.

“So what’s next?” I asked, falling into step next to him. “We’ve already cleared out the bandits in the Aloon Settlement, we’ve purged the werewolves from the forests of Kessig, and we’ve reunited a lost princess with her family. What else do we have left?”

Phillip stayed quiet for a second, pushing open the gates that lead to the outside of the village.

“I couldn’t see,” he said, his voice growing quiet as he headed towards the forest where we had hidden our weapons. Just like the tavern, the entire village had a ban on any weapons, physical or magical. If some type of law enforcement had found me with that dagger, I would have spent a few weeks in a cell.

“You couldn’t see?” I asked, surprise making my voice go high. It was rare for Phillip to be blind to the future. In all the years that I had known him, he always had a plan, a move that would set us one foot closer to a goal. We had met a few years ago when I, almost out of money and food, had taken to robbing a carriage as it passed through some woods that I used to live in long ago. As I was planning my robbery, he had emerged from the woods unbeknownst to me. I had no idea I wasn’t alone until I felt a hand on my shoulder. I flipped him over, scrabbling on top of the stranger that dared touch me, a small shiv of wood in my hand.

“Who are you?” I had snarled. I was angrier than I should have been, but at that time in my life, I was used to doing everything for myself and for someone to sneak up on me like that left me feeling vulnerable, especially since he caught me as I was humming a small tune to myself.

“My-my name’s Phillip,” he had said, choking off every syllable as I continued to crush his windpipe. “I came to stop you from robbing that carriage Talia!”

“How do you know my name?” I said, jamming my arm further into his throat. His face turned purple, the lack of oxygen leaving him weak as he tried pathetically to move my arm. I relented at the last second, allowing him a sniff of air before I tightened my grip on his neck, being careful to not almost kill him this time.

“I saw you in a dream,” he said, voice growing hoarse and desperate. “I’m supposed to help you! I’m here to make sure you don’t rob that carriage and that you reach your destiny!”

“That carriage is a one way ticket to a better life for myself! You, with your silk robes and your jeweled necklace no nothing of the hunger that I face!”

“If you rob that carriage you will die!” he yelled, throwing me off of him. I scrambled up, crouching into a fighter stance as he dusted himself off.

“If I don’t rob that carriage, I’ll die anyways.”

“That carriage belongs to a powerful necromancer.” Of all the forbidden magics, necromancy, the art of raising and controlling the dead, was the most feared. “If you attempt to rob that carriage, she will kill you and add you to her army of the dead. I’m just trying to help you!”

“How do you know this?” I asked. Some stranger that I had never met was trying to convince me that it was because of his good heart that he was trying to help me. No. From my experiences, this world was full of liars and cheaters. What did one good deed matter when five others would spit on you for the color of your eyes? Devil eyes. Monster. The monster with electric blue eyes. That’s what they called me. My own parents had thrown me out, afraid of both me and the anger of the other villagers in the village that I had grown up in.

“I’m telling you, I dreamt it! I saw you in my dream, dying and becoming a walking corpse!”

I didn’t believe him. Maybe that’s why I slammed the rock into his head. Maybe that was why I attempted to rob the carriage. Maybe that was why I was so shocked when I faced the full fury of a necromancer. He had told me the truth. I had accepted my death, closing my eyes and hoping that my spirit would find a good afterlife, when I felt what I would soon recognize as the feeling of his magic. When I eventually opened my eyes, all that was left of the necromancer was a burning husk. The stranger-Phillip-was crouched in front of me, and what I saw in his eyes that day still rocked me to my core. I saw worry. I saw things that I never felt even when I lived with my family or when I was alone for all those years. As he grabbed my hand to heal a small cut, I knew that I could trust him. Because of that failed robbery, because of all the time we spent together after, I was here, surprised at the fact that his dreams had failed him.

“I saw flashes. Nothing concrete. Purple flames. A cavern. Darkness. That was it,” he said, his frown marring his good looks. “I couldn’t see the enemy. All I could see was a road that would lead us to the cavern where he or she is. It’s near this village.”

I led the way to the clearing where we had hidden our weapons. To anyone else’s eye, the clearing would look empty. It would look like a picturesque forest, bright crocuses sticking out of the ground, puffy white clouds rolling gently across the azure blue sky. The smell of the pine trees permeated everything, and if you listened closely, you could hear the babbling of a far off creek. One word from Phillip however, and the supposedly empty clearing would flicker and our small encampment would appear. Our two tents, a small fire pit, and best of all, our weapons chest. Well, more like my weapons chest. All Phillip had in there were a few books. I walked over to it, feeling the rich supple leather under my fingers. I opened it, and pulled out my sword and shield. The sword, a fine long blade, had a briar design on the blade and handle, ending with a simple rose on the pommel. My shield, a simple kite shield, bore a simple design of a cross surrounded by brambles of thorns. I placed these to the side and deep inside the chest lay two of my most treasured weapons. The third was in the holster on the side of my leg. I pulled out the two small daggers and added the third one to the dagger belt that held them. The three daggers looked identical, with one small difference. They each had a different stone on the pommel: a ruby, a sapphire, and an emerald. My Fairy Blades.

As I pulled on the armor that was on the side of my tent I reminisced about how I had gotten the fairy blades. Last year, three small forest fairies were being chased by a pixie, a notorious eater of their kind. After killing it, they granted me these blades, saying that they would never fail me. Sure enough, these blades never missed their marks, finding each and every vital point whenever I threw them.

“Talia.”

I turned around, jumping back when I saw a huge, white stallion in front of me. For one second I seriously thought that the horse had spoken to me, until I saw Phillip shaking with suppressed laughter. I tried being angry with him, I swear. In the end I ended up laughing as I always do whenever I saw Phillip laughing.

“Talia, I’m going to go to sleep again.”

“What? No, you just woke up! Don’t we have to go to this cave and defeat the thing inside?”

“Yes we do, which is why I summoned this horse. The cave is one day’s ride from here. I plan to sleep and try to see if I could collect anymore clues about whatever’s in there. I’ll be awake before we get to the cave I promise. I’ll be tied to the horse and you’ll lead him towards the cave.” He placed the tips of his finger on my temples. I instantly knew where to find the cave. “I will be back.”

As he settled himself on the horse and drifted off to sleep, I stared the horse straight in his eyes.

“Oh sure he gets to sleep while I do all the work. Typical. Anyways do you have a name Mr. Horse?”

The horse neighed in reply.

“Well, how about Samson? Yeah I like that. Samson the Horse.”

                                                   Phillip

He woke up with a start, ripping the visor off of his face. How could he be blind now, now when it was so crucial that he keep her alive? How could he not know what they were going to face in that cave? He paced around the small room, wanting to smash the bulbs of the purple lights. The screams down on the street had stopped. He wished they hadn’t. The screams at least kept him from being alone with his thoughts, because even though she was in the room with him, he was alone. He would be alone until he woke her. This was his final chance. He wasted her lives in the game before, trying to break her free from her prison. When they had built the machine, they both agreed on a maximum five lives before the game would kick you out and force you to start over. It would serve as a break from the horror that their lives had descended into. What they had not planned on was the game trapping them in there with no recollection of how to get out or who they were. He had not even known that he was passing the game when he killed that final boss. But kill it he had and woken up he had, alone and without her. He tried all he could to wake her, eventually recoding his visor so he would remember who he was and be able to get out whenever his character fell asleep. He jammed it on, finding her in the world that they had built. He wanted to tell her the truth that the world she was in wasn’t real, that they had created it but he couldn’t. It would shatter her mind and he would never do that to her. So instead he helped her. He tried to stop her from taking on enemies before she was ready. The Necromancer. She didn’t believe him and because of that, she lost one of her precious lives. She didn’t know it of course. She thought that she had just closed her eyes. He took care of the beast, and from that moment on, took on the role of a prophet, leading her past certain doom, and making her stronger. No matter how hard he tried though, sometimes it wasn’t enough. The Aloon Settlement, the wolves of Kessig, the traitorous brother of the princess… She was on her final life, and he didn’t know what would happen if she lost that final life. The game hadn’t worked the way it was supposed to in the beginning, why should he trust it to work at the end? She would need all of his help this time. He knew why he couldn’t see the next boss. It was the final one. He didn’t remember what the final boss had been; he just remembered the fire and the cave. That would have to be enough. He slipped the visor on. The lights flashed, his body slumped, and the room was empty once again.

                                                 Talia

I was pulling my sword out of the wolf that had attacked me when I heard Phillip waking up.

“I told you, you have to be careful!” he said, voice cracking from frustration.

“Well I’m sorry that I had to defend both of us while you took a damn nap!” The barb hit home, and the look of anger was replaced with a look of guilt as his face reddened from embarrassment. I felt guilty for throwing that in his face, but I also wasn’t about to be scolded for defending both of our lives. “Look, we each have important abilities that we contribute to our little group. You dream. I fight. That’s how it’s been since we met and I don’t plan on changing now.”

He was quiet for a minute. He knew I was right. Yes he had magic, but I was the one who risked my life in order to protect us. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking me square in the eyes. “You’re right. I just—I worry about you alright.”

“You don’t have to. I took care of myself long before you showed up. Don’t underestimate me.”

I extended my hand, leaving it up to him if whether or not he was willing to let bygones be bygones. He gripped my hand instantly and I knew that we would be alright.

“So where are we?” he said in a jovial tone, peering into the dark woods around us. I knew that he wanted to forget about what just happened so I decided to follow his lead.

“We’re just outside the cave mouth. I was going to go explore inside, see if I could find any clues about what lay inside, but all I found were these shiny scales.” I lifted them up, the dull purple scales glittering in the fire light.

“Hmmmm… could be some type of bug creature in there. These scales don’t look familiar,” he said, examining one with his finger.

I shivered. I hated bugs. I had fought giant spiders before, in the Aloon Settlement, and that was an experience I did not want to repeat. I still had nightmares about the giant furry body that had sprang at me. If Phillip hadn’t thrown a fireball at it, I would have been a goner. I gathered my courage and turned toward the cave.

“Let’s go.”

                                                       ////

It was dark. Well obviously it was dark, but it was a darkness that was absolute. I waved my hand in front of my face and I swear for one second I thought that I had closed my eyes even though I knew that they were open.

“Um, Phillip?”

“I got it.” A seed of light bloomed in his hand, getting bigger and bigger till it was the size of my fist. The cave was thrown into sharp relief. “That’s better.”

I fanned myself with my hand. “It’s hot as all hell in here.”

We looked at each other. The heat and the unfamiliar scales that I had found and his dreams of purple flames were forming a terrifying picture.

“It can’t be,” I said, voice hitching in fear. “They all went extinct centuries ago.”

“It appears one survived,” he said, voice trembling. “And it’s in here.” A faint roar echoed throughout the cave.

There was a dragon in this cave.

“We can do this,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “We’ve trained for this. This is what all of those battles have been for. We can do this.”

We smiled at each other. As I turned around to walk farther onto the cave, Phillip hugged me from behind.

“Be careful,” he whispered. “I can’t lose you.”

I grasped his hand, squeezing it affectionately. This was neither the time nor the place to speak of the underlying feelings that I felt. There would be time after.

As we walked, I prayed that each corner we turned wouldn’t lead us straight to the dragon. We had to fight it yes, but that also did not mean that I was looking forward to it. Despite my past actions, I didn’t have a death wish. I really really wanted to live into my old age.

As we walked, I noticed small purple crystals jutting from the top of the cave.

“Wow, those are really pretty,” I said, reaching out to touch one. They were almost hypnotic. I could swear they were calling out to me. As my hand neared the closest one, Philip grabbed my hand, a look of disgust crossing his face.

“Don’t touch them,” he said, pulling me forward. “We have no idea what they are or if they could be used to alert the dragon.”

I stared at the crystals, allowing myself to be dragged away, the crystal’s song fading the farther we got away from them. “That was odd,” I said, feeling more like myself the farther we got from the crystals. “What were they?”

“Probably sensing crystals,” Phillip said, peering around the next turn in the cavern. “The dragon probably has them everywhere to warn him of intruders.” He didn’t sound convinced though, his hand trembling as he pulled me forward.

“Well—,” I began saying, when the cavern began shaking. My first thought was that the dragon had found us, but when I heard the song in my head, I knew what was coming. I saw the first purple point poke through the earth, the point becoming fine like a needle, extending towards me. More and more crystals exploded from all around the cavern, crystals jutting forth from the ground, the walls, the ceiling. The song became overwhelming, driving me to my knees as the crystals reached towards me. I gripped my head, trying to block out the cacophony as images flashed through my head. I saw myself, strapped in a chair. I looked dirty. I saw a city on fire, people dying on a strange looking street. I closed my eyes, trying to process these images. I could hear Phillip calling to me, trying to reach me as the crystals separated us. Suddenly the music stopped. I opened my eyes, and I saw Phillip trapped behind a wall of crystals. He was shouting something, but I couldn’t hear him. Once again, I noticed a crystal that was as sharp as a needle, and I could hear it calling to me, beckoning me to touch it. I reached towards it, the crystal filling my vision as my finger neared the point. The minute my finger touched it, it pricked me, drawing blood.

The second my blood spilled on the crystal, my brain exploded with images. I saw myself with Phillip, building the machine. I saw me getting trapped in the game, Phillip and me forgetting who we were. Us reaching this same cavern and fighting the dragon. Phillip abandoning me as he ran for the exit. The dragon killing me. The necromancer killing me. The wolf, the spider, the Prince… all succeeding in cutting me down. And Phillip. Always Phillip. The mastermind. The man who said he would never abandon me even when those monsters attacked in the other world.

I opened my eyes, surprised to see all of the crystals suddenly gone. Phillip was kneeling next to me, feeling for a pulse. My heart filled with anger as I saw him, acting as if he truly cared about me. If he cared about me, he would have never have abandoned me. I slammed my fist into his face, catching him by surprise as he tumbled to the ground.

“You bastard,” I said through gritted teeth. I swiped away the tears that had suddenly began falling. I drew my sword, pressing the tip lightly into chest. “How could you? How could you do this to me?”

“Talia, what are you talking about?” he wheezed, trying to squirm out from underneath the blade. “It’s me, Phillip!”

“I remember. Everything.”

“His face drained of blood. He stopped moving, mouth moving soundlessly. “You remember? Even…about the other world.”

I threw the blade aside, grabbing him by the neck of his robe. “Yes. But especially, I remember the last time we were here.”

His eyebrows snapped together in confusion. “What do you mean? Last time we were here?”

“Oh you don’t remember?” A sarcastic chuckle escaped my lips. “You left me here. That’s why you remember everything. You’re dreams aren’t visions of the future. You’ve done this before. And when we reached this place together, you left me to fight the dragon while you escaped and woke up.”

“Talia, please. I—I was scared. I thought that maybe if I passed the game, we would both wake up. I thought I was saving both of us!”

“You left me here to die!”

“No! That’s why as soon as I could, I came back! I tried to make sure that you could pass the game so you could wake up! I’m trying, please—“

A roar echoed throughout the cave, shaking me to my very bones. The dragon was near.

I could kill Phillip now, or have him help me wake up. He had already proven to be a coward. Could I trust him to not abandon me again? My instincts screamed at me to kill him now, to end this miserable coward’s life. But I couldn’t take on this dragon alone. I would need his help. My mind made up, I threw him onto the ground.

“After this, you and I are over. When I wake up, I don’t care, but you and I are done.”

“Talia, please I’m—“

“If you apologize to me, I will beat you to death.”

With that I turned my back to him, leading us through the cavern, the heat getting more and more unbearable. Phillip trailed quietly behind me, and every now and then I could hear him sniffling quietly. I ignored him, not in the mood to console him. He knew what he had done. I wasn’t going to coddle him and absolve him of this. I had a dragon to kill and a game to wake up from.

The tunnel widened, eventually leading to a stone bridge that led to a giant stone dais. I peered over the edge, seeing nothing but blackness. How long would someone fall if they fell over the edge? I glanced over at Phillip, my mind jokingly toying with the idea of throwing him over. I quelled the idea, and walked onto the dais.

“Where’s the dragon?” I asked, not looking at him. “The cave doesn’t go any further so it should be here.” I glanced around, seeing more of those dull scales that I had found near the mouth of the cave.

A roar from above answered my question. My head snapped upwards, and I saw the beast on an outcropping of stone high above the dais, examining us with toxic green eyes. Its body was coiled, black and purple body rippling with powerful muscles. Curving horns extended from its head, giving it another form of attack. A pale yellow tongue slithered out, tasting the air. Its eyes were so huge that I saw its pupil pinpoint and I knew it was going to attack.

“Move!” I bellowed as the dragon’s wings burst out of its body. It flew into the air, gouts of purple and green flame exploding from its mouth. Phillip and I dove behind a rock, the rock beginning to melt under the heat of the flames.

“We need a plan!” I said, peeking over the rock. The dragon was on the ground now, its long, red nails raking the ground. It left behind long furrows and I knew that my armor would be as useful as leaves in defending myself.

“A head on attack won’t work,” Phillip said. “It has scales meant for defending against any attack, physical or magical. I doubt my magic would even work on it.”

Another earsplitting roar shook the cave, and I knew the dragon was getting bored with this game of hide and seek. I pulled one of my Fairy Blades from its sheath and I looked at Phillip.

“We are going to defeat this thing and I am going to wake up. No matter what, I am escaping this world.”

I sprinted out from behind the rock, throwing my dagger. The green jewel glinted as it sped fast and true right into the beast’s neck. It embedded itself into it, hot blood pouring out and melting the rocks underneath. Sadly, the dragon was still very much alive as it breathed more fire onto the ground below. I lifted my shield, the blessed metal holding against the dragon fire. Once I had the chance, I dove behind another rock, examining the wound I had left on the dragon. As it spewed more fire, I noticed flames also emitting from the wound my dagger had created. The dragon began smashing rocks as if it was hoping to drive Phillip and me out of hiding. I was tired of hiding.

I leapt out, brandishing my sword as I let out my own roar. The dragon sped towards me, flames exploding from its nostrils as its giant mouth opened. I dodged, slamming my sword down on its face. Nothing. It swiped at me with its claws. I rolled beneath the claws, knowing that if I miscalculated a roll, the claws would kill me. Lift my shield at the wrong moment and the flames would cook me alive. Do even one wrong movement, and the teeth would tear me to shreds. Every time it missed me, it would strike the dais we were on and more and more would crumble away into the everlasting darkness below us.

“Talia! Aim for the neck!” I heard Phillip cry. I looked at him for one second, and in that second the dragon slammed its claw down on me. Blood exploded from my mouth, a sure sign of internal damage. The dragon let loose a shriek of victory, bringing its face down to examine me. This was it. I was going to die. It opened its mouth, revealing thousands of needle fine teeth. I closed my eyes, waiting for that bite that would end me. When it didn’t come I opened my eyes. The dragon was frozen. I saw it straining against the spell, trying with all its might to break free.

“Talia! Do it now!” Phillip walked towards the dragon, arm outstretched and sweat pouring down his face. “This spell won’t hold for long!”

Already the dragon was snapping its jaws, body breaking free of the spell bit by bit. I squirmed out from beneath the red claws and stood up. I ripped my dagger belt off of me, tying it to my sword in one quick fluid motion. I tossed my shield aside, praying that I was correct in my theory. Phillip collapsed, the spell breaking, freeing the dragon. It reared its head, poised to kill Phillip.

“HEY!”

The dragon turned to face me. I launched the sword above my head, my two remaining Fairy Blades guiding the sword straight into the wound I had made earlier. As the sword entered the monster’s body, it shrieked in pain as the fire it had inside began exploding out from it. It fell, the whole cavern shaking as the monster died. The dais we were on, crumbled as it was, began falling apart huge chunks falling into the fathoms below.

“Talia! Come on!” I heard Phillip scream as chunks of rock began falling from above. The body of the dragon fell as well, taking my sword and Blades along with it, a red, blue, and green twinkle the last I saw of them. I began running for stable ground too late, the stone beneath me falling. As I fell, Phillip jumped and tried to grab me, missing by the tips of his fingers. I fell down into the darkness.

                                            Phillip/Talia

His consciousness roared back into his body. He screamed in anguish as he ripped the visor from his eyes, throwing it aside. The game had thrown him out and that could only mean one thing. He looked at her motionless body, sorrow knifing his heart as he broke down, sobbing and apologizing to her lifeless corpse. He had failed her and finally for the first time, he could see her as what she was—a corpse. He knew that she wasn’t coming back. Yet he couldn’t leave her. He had sworn that he would if he couldn’t wake her, but now that it was time to act, he couldn’t. He knew what to do. The game was surely rebooting, erasing Talia, but he could save the game’s memory of her. He could live with how the game remembered Talia; it wouldn’t be the same but he would still be with her.

I was falling. I don’t know for how long but when I finally hit the floor, it didn’t hurt. It welcomed me, soft and enveloping. Is this what dying felt like? An eternity in darkness? Alone? I began crying softly, afraid of truly being alone. I cried because to be truthful, I didn’t blame Phillip for what had happened to me. I had been angry; I didn’t hate him. I had just been so angry…

He was close. He just had to rewrite a bit more of the code and he would be with her, wherever she was…

I don’t know how long I floated in the darkness. It could have been seconds or eternities. All I know is that when I saw that sparking purple light, I thought it was a trick. Then I saw the red, blue, and green lights join and they began sparking and fizzing, creating a perfect circle.

He rewrote the piece of code that erased his memory. He wouldn’t need it anymore, just enough to find Talia…

The lights called to me. I walked or floated or swam to it. I couldn’t tell you which. The closer I got to it, the more I could see fuzzy images. When I was right in front of it, I gasped. I could see Phillip in the other world.

He destroyed the purple lights for good measure. If he was leaving this world for good, at least he could do one final thing that brought him pleasure. He grinned as the broken glass showered the floor.

I knew that if I touched the light it would awaken me. I would be back in my body, back in the real world. I would be with Phillip. All I had to do was touch it.

He placed the visor over his eyes. He would see her soon.

I touched the light.

He flipped the switches.

I’m coming. Wait for me Phillip.

I’m coming. Wait for me Talia.

The End

Any and all critiques are welcome!

[summysparklesprocket]

Send “I’ve got you” to help my Muse wash blood off their Body 

It was an ask that @malien-moonray sent for their toon @xandiarashadowgazer, but drafts are buggy and I'm on mobile. So posting as a story!!

TW: CORNERED FEMALE, AND HEAVY GORE!!

“Another day, another silver piece I guess.” Summy muttered to herself as she wandered from the Keep.

It had been a busy day. Bennas had been busy on the front today, so Summy had gone in his stead to some meetings, writing down notes, which had been placed on his desk. They hadn’t gone too well. She had been arguing with pissy nobles all day. Most of which just wanted to make sure their pockets were lined, their lands safe, or every man, woman, and child of the horde dead. All of which annoyed her to no end. 

To anyone passing by, it was pretty obvious that she was annoyed and angry about something. Her appearence still remained pristine and perfect, but she wasn’t trying to hide her emotions now that she had left the Keep. Hopefully one of the local bars would help her calm down. Perhaps she may find someone to vent at as well. 

Since the closest bar was the Pig and Whistle, that’s where she was headed. It was in the rough part of Stormwind, but Summy could handle herself, and knew  a few people that frequented Old Town. So she figured it was worth a shot to check out. 

She made the majority of the journey uneventfully. However, as she neared the bar, she overheard a familiar voice down an alleyway. 

“Fuck off. You’re filthy. Clean yourself and then come talk to me.” The feminine voice said, obviously annoyed. 

With a quirk of an eyebrow, Summy waddled down the alleyway to see Xandiara cornered. And she wasn’t joking, Summy could smell the guy from roughly fifteen feet away. 

“Have a new fan there Xandi? Judging by the smell he must adore you to smell like your ass.” Summy quips at the cornered elf.

The elf rolls her eyes at the gnome. “You going to make fun of me or you gonna do something? He hasn’t left me alone yet tonight!”

The guy, who had been seemingly oblivious to the interaction until just now, finally turns to Summy, flaring at her angrily. “I’m trying to talk to this lady here. Fuck off gnome.” He grumbles before turning back to Xandiara.

“Nah I’m good. Doesn’t seem like she wants to talk to you, plus you smell like you belong in the sewers with the rats. So why don’t you head on down there. The rats will like you more than we will. Probably treat you better too.” She continues, gesturing behind her so he can be on his merry way.

“Ha! Like I’d listen to a small fry like you. You gonna build one of those little machines?” He mocks the gnome, turning to face her directly now. “Go do what you do best and annoy someone else. The lady and I want some private time.”

The remark definitely gets a reaction from Summy. Not only did he insult her size, but her engineering as well. If he wanted to get on her bad side, he was on his way.

“Alright, that’s enough of that. Xandi, let’s get you out of there. You’re panicking.” She comments, annoyed that she couldn’t have gotten herself out of this. She raises a column of ice right under the elf’s feet, raising her up so she can step onto the rooftop, which she does. The column disappears right as she steps off, just leaving the gnome and the man in the alley.

“Now I’m mad you cunt. You won’t use your pathetic wiggly fingers to get outta this bitch.” He starts towards her as he speaks.

The gnome is un-phased at the approach. He obviously didn’t have any combat skills, and if he attacked her, she would respond in kind. She just watches him approach, not provoking him further.

He reaches her after a few moments, taking out a shiv and moves to punt her. However, he ends up kicking a small wall of ice, which she raises at the last second. A cracking sound could be heard coming from his foot as it breaks.

“FUCK! Now you’re dead!!” He exclaims, shouting as he instantly reaches over the wall to stab her.

He doesn’t make it, the wall lowers as a spike raises from the ground which impales his hand, splattering blood onto her face and clothes.

“You’re not going to do anything like this again. I’ll make damn sure of that.” She growls at his shocked face, trying desperately to free his hand.

An ice lance appears in her hand, using it as a dagger, she stabs it outward, the man’s free hand trying to combat it, but ends up flailing around pointlessly. The small ice lance connects with its target, his crotch, which causes him to squeal in pain.

“You’re done. You’re going to bleed out here and die.” She says as she holds his free hand, preventing him from trying to apply pressure to stem the bleeding.

It doesn’t matter though, as she takes out a standard dagger that she keeps on her person, and stabs him again in the gut, twisting it before pulling it out. Blood goes everywhere, coating the gnome in the substance. She finally releases his hand, and lowers the spike that kept his other hand free, as he collapses, writhing in agony.

At this point, Xandi appears next to Summy. “Summy… I… that was too much. I thank you, but he didn’t deserve this.”

“He deserved much worse than this. He’ll bleed out after five minutes.” Summy says, staring emotionless at him. “Let’s go.”

“No no no no Summy. We’re not going anywhere except my place. We need to get this blood cleaned off you before anyone notices. Come on.” Xandi orders, picking up Summy under her arm before blinking to the entrance of her nearby apartment. She quickly brings the two of them inside, locking the door and bee-lining it for the bathroom.

“Strip your ass Summy. Everything. Then get in the tub. Toss your clothes on the floor, I’ll wash them later.” She says, as she starting running the bath.

With a nod, Summy does as instructed, stripping everything and tossing them onto the floor before standing next to the tub, waiting for it to fill.

The tub takes a minute to fill up, but once it does, Summy feels herself get lifted and placed into the tub with a small splash.

Xandiara had been prepared. As the bath had been running, she had been gathering the scrubber, the soap and the water. Once Summy was in, she got to work, scrubbing her down and gently getting the blood off of her.

The two sit in silence as Xandiara cleans up the blood, but after a few minutes, the elf breaks it.

“Thank you Summy. Thank you.” She says, kissing the top of her, now clean, head.

“My pleasure Xandi. Despite my relentless pranking, I will always do that for you.” She says, standing up and giving her a wet hug.

“Damn it Summy. Now I’m wet, and being hugged by a naked gnome.” She blinks in realization of what she just said, before the two share a laugh.

[geneshaven]

The Distance Between Two Hearts

Oliver lost consciousness before hitting the ground in the prison yard. Blood gushed from multiple places---his face, his neck and a puncture wound under his ribs from a shiv. He had taken a particular vicious beating this time. After only two months being locked up, Oliver had been fighting a constant barrage of attacks. When word got out that the Green Arrow was now part of the general population, the criminal element that made up the prison’s inmates lined up to get at the former vigilante, to get some pay back and to enact as much damage as possible. The attacks were brutal and often sudden, but Oliver was not some new fish swimming in a tank of sharks. He was a seasoned warrior who had just as much deadly skill as his assailants. He gave as good as he got.

But after so many beatings, Oliver was constantly on guard. The only moments of peace he found was alone in his cell, usually licking his wounds and slowly healing after the outcome of said beatings. He was not sleeping very much and the exhaustion from this was beginning to take its toll, slowing down his reactions and leaving him open to the kind of engagements that has currently left him out cold on the hard -packed dirt ground of the yard.

No one came to rescue him.  He was like a toy being played with by the population. Even the guards were in on the abuse, laying bets on Oliver’s survival, on the outcomes of the small battles he was fighting and how many inmates he could take out before falling under the weight of numbers. As Oliver lay on the ground, it started to rain, mixing his blood with the dusty earth beneath him and creating scarlet streams of running anguish.

*

Oliver came to in the prison infirmary. He was stretched out on a small gurney and an IV was attached to his arm. He could feel a gigantic headache crashing through his brain as he came more awake. His left eye was covered by some sort of bandage and he had cotton stuffed into his broken nose. Oliver tentatively reached down and ran his fingers over the wound below his ribs. The area was covered by gauze wrapped around his chest. But he was breathing and had his senses about him.  He had survived another encounter with inevitability.

There was only one other person in the room with him. It was another patient laying on another gurney across from him. Despite the bandages covering the man’s face, Oliver recognized him. He had been one of his attackers out in the yard. Oliver had taken him out of the fight early on, with a backhand to his face and a knee in his stomach. The man appeared to be asleep and Oliver ignored him. Then he caught movement to his left and turned his head that way.

The prison doctor---Simmons was his name, came into the room. He approached Oliver’s gurney and stood over it, looking down and shaking his head.  “Mr. Queen, you are one tough customer. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone in my five years here who has taken as many beatings as you have and lived to tell the tale.”  

Oliver directed his one good eye at the doctor. “Yeah, well it has been my MO for a lot of years,” he deadpanned his answer. “I have been through a lot worse than some inmates beating on me. I’m a survivor doctor, and I have learned over those years how to come back from the brink.”

“Well,” Simmons responded. “I’m pretty sure you can’t survivor many more of these types of beatings. But whatever you say. Despite having a fresh set of cuts and bruises, I think you can go back to your cell.” The doctor paused for a moment, as if he was contemplating giving some advice. “Mr. Queen,” he went on. “I’m not here to help you find your way. I don’t care if you’re here because you deserve this kind of punishment or that you being the Green Arrow is noble or even heroic. You are just another inmate I have to care for in this crazy jungle. But I just wanted to let you know that there is a movement going on in Star City by thousands of its citizens. They have signed petitions and have protested outside the local FBI office. They want you freed. After everything came out about the corruption and the way you assisted in ending that corruption---well, a lot of people think you do not belong in here. Maybe that will help you deal with what is happening to you in here and maybe it won’t.” He stopped his monologue for a few seconds and then finished his conversation with Oliver. “If I was a betting man, I would put my money on you.”

Oliver still showed no emotion, but there was a slight shift in his heart. It was a small touch of gratitude.

*

Later that evening, Oliver was stretched out on his cramped bunk in his cell. He had a notebook binder open and a pen clutched in his hand. He was about to start a letter to Felicity. He was having some difficulty adjusting his depth perception onto the page with his one good eye, but he knew what he wanted to say and fought through it.

Dear Felicity,

I know I usually write these letters for both you and William, but this one is just for you. I am not sure if these letters are getting to you, mainly because I haven’t received any from you since I came to this wonderful country club. Either someone in the chain of command is stopping them from reaching you or you don’t want to talk to me. If it is the latter, I completely understand. My guilt for not including you in the decision I made that put me in here still runs deep. You told me during my trial that we are married and that we’re supposed to protect each other. I did not give you that chance when I agreed to Watson’s terms. I am sorry for that. I don’t want you to think that my reasons were the same ones I latched onto two years ago when I kept you out of the loop with William. I told you that I wanted to protect  you and William and I could not find any other way to do that except by assuring myself that even with me gone, you two would be safe and taken care of. Felicity, knowing that helps me sleep better at night.

Oliver stopped writing and read back what he had written. It seemed veiled and did not go far enough to let his part in all this play out. But he was finding if more and more difficult to let his guard down enough to make himself vulnerable, even to his own wife and child. When he wrote these letters, it almost seemed like he was a kid at summer camp, covering the highlights of spending time away from home, but not letting on how lonely he was and how much he missed his family. The headache he had all day was notched down a bit, but he had another ache that was much harder to endure.

It was in his heart.

Oliver closed his notebook, capped his pen and placed them in the storage netting on the side of his bunk. Maybe Felicity had decided to ignore his letters. Knowing her as well as he did, it sometimes took her a while to process trauma, especially when it was aimed at her, at the way Oliver blindsided her with his deal with the FBI. He knew she was angry at him, and rightly so. His life wasn’t the only one set adrift. She and William’s lives had been just as plagued as his. Oliver’s incarceration was a shock to his family and his guilt over everything brought bad memories of him not being able to look into Felicity’s eyes in their last moments before he was taken away. It was him not giving his wife, his soulmate a hug and a kiss. Oliver just could not let himself touch her. It would have driven him over the edge and reminded him what he was giving up. Felicity’s fear of losing him danced in her leaking eyes like a victimized affront.  And that was Oliver’s deepest guilt. He once again shattered Felicity’s heart by keeping her away; by not letting her find any of her own comfort in a simple touch.

Oliver felt a tear leak out of his good eye as he turned over and started to search for a few hours of sleep. Rain was in the forecast for tomorrow and Oliver wanted to have enough rest to face it.

@it-was-a-red-heeler @memcjo @hope-for-olicity @almondblossomme @biermank @allimariexf @ajillgreen @silencehealth @mylittlesimba @cruzrogue @dmichellewrites @gabriellamarie97 @bandanab310 @wanhani @1106angel @omglovechrissie @marisatwit @swordandarrow @candykizzes24 @wordslovedreams @melolicity @starofaries

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Half Blood, Whole Heart: Part 32

Pairings: Jax x Reader, sister Winchester!reader- SOA/SPN Crossover

Warnings: Swearing, angst, Dean being a demon dick, smut, hate sex, angry sex, mention of cheating out of anger (that doesn’t happen), almost getting caught in a compromising position by your kid……

Word Count: 1,845

A/N: So I decided to repost my novel- the story that someone stole from my old blog and put up on Wattpad. PLEASE don’t be an asshole and steal my stories. It CRUSHED me when it happened and almost ran me off Tumblr.

Half Blood, Whole Heart Masterlist    Aesthetic by @ravenangel33​

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~ NOVEMBER 13TH 2011 ~~~~~~~~

The five month between your oldest son’s birthday and your youngest’s first went by slowly and entirely too quickly at the same time. You and Jax forced yourselves to live life as normally as possible for your sons. The two of you and Bobby agreed not to tell Opie and Lyla; she didn’t need the stress and you didn’t want Opie to have to lie to her. You tried not to think about it; tried not to worry about the unknown but you still found yourself crying yourself to sleep in Jax’s arms every night. The unknown finally made itself known the day before John’s first birthday.

“Hey have you seen this solar eclipse thing we have going on?” Lyla asked as you sat in your rocking chair on your front porch smoking a cigarette.

“Yep. Out front looking at it now.” You told your friend over the phone with tears slowly falling down your cheeks. You knew it wasn’t a solar eclipse. This was the end. 

“It’s crazy. According to the news, NASA doesn’t even know what’s going on. The moon isn’t causing it.”

“I’m sure it’s no big deal.” You lied as you tried to wipe your tears away. “Probably just some fluke thing.”

“Yea, probably. Hey, let me call you back, I have a baby on my bladder.” You let out a forced laugh and hung up the phone. Jax walked out to join you after putting your sons down for a nap. He sat down in his rocker and you immediately got up and moved to his lap wordlessly.

“What’s gunna happen?” He asked as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you as close as physically possible. You shook your head before resting it on his shoulder.

“I don’t know. I think it just… ends.” He gently rocked the two of you back and forth as you watched the sun diminish quickly from the bright glowing orange light it had been all morning.

“Should we wake the boys?” Jax whispered as dusk began to settle in despite it being the middle of the morning. You shook your head.

“Let them sleep. They don’t need to see this.” You said as you buried your tear stained face in your husband’s neck. 

“I’m not done loving you yet.” He choked as his tears fell on your face. He pulled you impossibly closer as sobs wracked your bodies.

“I will never be done.” As night enveloped you, you forced your head up and cupped your husbands cheeks. “I love you, Jax.” You whispered; wanting those to be the last words he heard.

“I love you, too, (Y/N).” He replied as he tangled his hands in your hair and crushed his lips to yours. Your tears mixed together on your skin as you said good bye to the love of your life; wishing you could have just one more day with your family. Wishing that this wasn’t really happening. Wishing that it wasn’t suddenly so damn hot in the winter… You brow furrowed and you pulled away and opened your eyes as your phone rang on the table. Your eyes flew open wider to see the morning light.

“What the hell…?” You asked as you looked around while your phone stopped ringing.

“Are we dead?” Jax asked as you phone started ringing again. You reached back and grabbed it off the table. You shook your head when you saw the name on the caller ID. You put it on speaker as you stood up and looked at the sun curiously.

“Sam? What the hell…?”

“Dean stopped her.” You whipped around to look at Jax as a choked laugh escaped your lips.

“It’s over?” You asked as he jumped up from his chair and wrapped you in a hug. 

“Fuck, I love you.” He said as he crashed his lips to yours in a bruising kiss.

“Yea… sorry to interrupt guys but… De…” His words were choked off and he cleared his throat. “Dean didn’t make it out of this one and he’s… it’s the real deal this time.” You pulled back and looked at the phone in your hand as you gripped Jax’s arm for balance.

“W-what?” You stammered. “He had to have… there’s no way…”

“I’m heading to you. I’m in Louisville so I’ll be there tonight. (Y/N), I… I need you.” You nodded as tears welled in your eyes once more.

“Yea… Sammy, I’m here. We’re here for you.” Sam tried to say something but changed his mind; hanging up the phone with a sob. You looked at Jax as regret and guilt crashed down on you and your lip began to quiver.

“The last thing I said to him…” Was all you could get out before you burst into tears.

“Fuck. Baby, shhh. It’s OK.” Jax soothed as he wrapped you in his arms. “I’m so sorry, baby. He knows you love him.”

“Dean…”

——

“Mommy m’eese!” Thomas cried out over the small TV you had in your kitchen while you made lunch for your sons. You forced yourself to focus on being a mother and a functioning member of society and not the fact that you had to find a way to tell your son that Uncle Dean was living in heaven with the winged dicks that you partially blamed for his death. Then again, you blamed everyone except your brothers.

“Thomas Eric, I need you to stop yelling. I promise you, you will get your mac and cheese if you just wait a minute.” 

“… Filip Telford escaped from Folsom Prison in California today after this morning’s solar eclipse knocked out the power in the prison. He is considered armed and dangerous…” You whipped away from the stove and looked at Chib’s mug shot on TV as your phone started ringing. You ran to the kitchen window as your son continued to whine about lunch and threw it open.

“Jax! Get in here; you need to see this!” You heard the rocker he was sitting in scrape across the floor as you grabbed your cell phone.

“Did you see it?” Lyla practically shouted as you rewound the news story for Jax.

“Yea. Showing Jax now. I gotta get ahold of Crowley to find him before they do. Let me call you back.”

“We’re coming over.” You heard Opie say in the back ground. You didn’t even get a chance to respond before she hung up. You pushed pause on the TV as Jax ran into the kitchen looking confused and a little panicked. 

“Look.” You said as you pointed to Chibs’ mugshot and hit play; turning up the volume to counter Thomas’ now almost screaming to get your attention and John’s cries at the noise. Behind your back, Jax grabbed a package of Oreo’s from the cabinet and gave one to each son, effectively silencing them as you single handedly finished lunch while calling Crowley.

“Well hello kitten. Haven't heard from you in a while.”

“Still having a little bit of trouble erasing mental images from my mind, sorry. Hey, I need a demon power favor.” Crowley chuckled as you grabbed a pre-made, crust free peanut butter and jelly sandwich from the fridge and put it on Thomas’ plate.

“And what would that be, dove?” You smirked, knowing he would not like your request as you put the phone on speaker and leaned back against the counter.

“First, I want you to know you are on speaker, in my kitchen and the boys are in here for lunch. Second… Chibs managed to escape from Folsom this morning. I need you…

“Over my dead body am I saving that wretched, cock sucking, dick for brains wanker!”

“Hey! Kids!” Jax shouted as he muted the TV.

“And technically, you are already dead so I guess that works too. Consider it payment for your summer of love?”

“You are a… horrible individual, (Y/N).” Crowley said as he hung up the phone. You laughed as you put the phone down on the counter down and looked at your now chocolate covered sons to see why they were so quiet.

“Really, Jackson? Oreos?” You husband looked at his sons with a look of almost pride and shrugged.

“They were hungry. Couldn’t let them starve.” You rolled your eyes as you spooned mac and cheese onto the plate with the sandwich.

“You can handle pre-nap bath time for that one then.” You said as you handed him Thomas’ plate at the same time that your entry way turned into a European screaming match.

“Take yer filthy English ‘ands of me, ye weasel-headed bastard!”

“Oi! I’m here as a fucking favor and I’m fucking Scottish, you twat!”

“Like fuckin’ ‘ell…” You went running out of your kitchen with an uncontrollable smile on your face.

“Whoa! Easy killer!” You said as you and Jax rounded the corner at the same time Opie and Lyla ran through your front door. Chibs, who was still dressed in a prison uniform, brandishing a hand made shiv looked around at the four of you in utter shock as Thomas shrieked at the sound of his uncle’s voice.

“REE!” He screamed as he came running out of the kitchen, covered in chocolate and Kraft cheese sauce.

“Who is this handsome… yet extremely dirty fella, hmm? Can’t be my little Thomas?” Crowley said as he picked up his nephew he hadn’t seen in a year. 

“Ye’s all are dead!” Chibs finally said as he looked around the room.

“Not quite. We are as dead as you will be by the end of the day, however.” Jax said as you and he looked over at Crowley. The King, feeling the eyes on him as he tried to wipe chunks of cookie out of his nephew’s hair, looked over at you with his eye brows raised.

“Was that a question…” he started. You arched your eyebrow with a small smile and Crowley groaned and rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, alright. I’ll kill the bloody cunt.”

“Language!” You snapped as Crowley walked into the kitchen with Thomas to finish lunch. 

“Bloody hell! When did this one shoot up?!” Crowley called out.

“This one?” Chibs asked as you stepped back into the kitchen to answer Crowley. 

“Our other son. Turns one tomorrow, actually. John Filip.” Jax said. You looked back at your friend as his eyes filled with tears and you nodded.

“You were there for me when we needed you. I had to honor that memory some how.” You said softly as you gestured him into the kitchen. Chibs nodded slightly as he followed you; stopping to give Jax a fast hug.

“Oh, love. It’s mini-ye.” Chibs said as he stopped next to you and looked across the kitchen at your youngest. 

“Oh no. He may look like me but that little boy is Jax’s mini. Tommy is mine.” You said as you watched Crowley airplane mac and cheese into John’s mouth. With a small smile you pat your friends shoulder. “Come on… let’s go talk.”

Part 33

[kinetic-elaboration]

August 9: The 100 2x01, The 48

Okay, settling down to rewatch 2x01, the start of my favorite season...

I love this Clarke so much. Badass Clarke, sneaky Clarke, a Clarke who will fearlessly do what she has to in order to escape and to get to her friends. A Clarke with convictions and guts.

How DO they know everyone’s names lol? Is that ever explained? (ETA: Monty was obviously the informant.)

Mount Weather is one of my favorite parts of this show, honestly. I love that their mission is in part to preserve the beautiful things humanity created, like art; they gave their prisoner Starry Night. The ORIGINAL Starry Night. I just find that very moving. All of these non-essential parts of being human... the show has abandoned them and that’s part of why it’s so hollow for me now, I think.

Level 5: where it all begins and it all ends.

The Clarke/Maya relationship could have been so much more, tbh. Like they had their good moments, like threatening to kill each other etc., but they could have gone deeper.

Surprise! Underground executive branch family dinner! This is the sort of twist I can get behind.

Haha remember when actual delinquents still existed? I joke but truly the later canon has ruined parts of this show for me.

I forgot Tristan survived into 2x01. Not for long. Such Grounder hypocrisy: “That’s one. I lost 300.” He makes it sound as if Finn marched into a village and killed 300 people--they were fucking soldiers on the attack you dum-dum.

“Only our warriors speaking English.” Well that sounds like bullshit based on literally everything we see after this point.

The statue of Lincoln is “the place we go to settle disputes.” First, please don’t say they settle disputes to the death or some nonsense, and second, that’s his namesake... Significant? I mean, objectively, no, but can I make something out of it somehow?

I disliked Luna but she COULD have been so interesting and she and Lincoln COULD have had quite a dynamic. I headcanon them as exes. I want to know their whole backstory tbh. When they met. How. If he wanted to go with her to the sea. If he did perhaps and then came back.

Drink every time someone cauterizes a wound.

You know what else they should have done? Story line about the meeting of Grounder and Sky People medicine. Oh wait that would have taken away from the repetitive war story lines never mind.

That dropship is so fucking impressive. WHERE ARE THE AWARDS FOR THE SET PEOPLE?

And the costume people for those awesome masks.

Am I supposed to feel bad for this Grounder and his charred friend? I do not. Next time, don’t attack the children for no reason and you won’t get burned to a crisp. Easy.

The thing is I can never get behind the Raven + Murphy friendship 100% even though their S5 dynamic looked interesting because he literally fucking shot her and that’s just not a bygones are bygones thing. But they do have personalities that mesh well together so in that way it’s sort of a shame. Also he 10000000000000% had a crush on her don’t even try to argue.

She fired that gun at him. I forgot that. She fired but was out of bullets, that’s the only reason he didn’t die right there. “Yeah I would have shot me too.”

I’m p. sure that’s the real Mount Weather?

I know the Mount Weather people have no leg to stand on when it comes to the Grounders and that they’re...pretty obviously racist, but in their defense--the Grounders were written to be pretty savage, so “savages,” while unforgivably racially tinged, is a fair descriptor of them.

I know I’ve harped on this before but Mount Weather has a judicial system of some sort and it’s possible to press charges there. Somehow. The world building on this show sucks balls.

“They also said you were their leader��� is like some retconning, okay. Because you will not convince me that for most of S1 BELLAMY wasn’t the leader in the eyes of the delinquents.

“Kiddo.”

Fucking love Dante. Where are my Dante + Clarke mentor/mentee or ex-mentor/mentee or different-gen-rivals fics?

“We prioritize safety over sentimentality.” As Maya takes blood she absolutely doesn’t need but is having just in case and that she knows comes from someone else’s tortured body because she’s accepted this as something they do, because she’s not sentimental. But she already feels guilty.

Clarke is already using the word “capture.” I had a discussion with someone once about Clarke’s vision of Mount Weather versus, say, Jasper’s, and why it was different and I said some poorly phrased stuff that didn’t really reflect my thoughts and opinions and it still haunts me but I feel like this is...relevant to that. How she immediately feels ‘captured,’ trapped.

Clarke’s devotion to her friends and her people was still so pure and right here.

Dante really does believe he “saved” them. I wonder what his thought process was... I really hate the “savages” so I must save these children? These children look interesting, let’s meet some new friends? She’s right of course that if they were really guests, they could leave.

Multiple crash sites over 100 square miles = I should go on google maps to confirm my Pennsylvania/Farm Station theory but I’m too lazy.

GOD THOSE CLOTHES. I love that Clarke picks the pants and the high heel shiv.

There’s no way there’s actually time for natural selection to work that fast in 97 years and also I’m pretty sure the Sky People are genetically modified because their original pool was way too small for the process Dante is describing but whatever this show is all la-di-da science.

Also: this is how you run an underground Bunker OCTAVIA.

Dante was the only rival/antagonist/whatever Clarke has ever had that rivals her instincts and intelligence yeah I said it; fight me. I know she needed to be on the outside for this season to work but he should have been her mentor. He basically set her up to be mentored and then she ran off and into L who basically destroyed her and she’s never recovered.

THAT REUNION. Heartwarming. Though hard to watch too because this show did both Jasper and Monty so dirty. (Yeah I said that too WHAT OF IT.)

“Dying. Same as you.” Murphy gets all the good lines. That’s why people like him, forget this “redemption arc.”

The Grounder Raven killed was Murphy’s guard and honestly--hilarious. He abandons his post, realizes all his friends are skeletons, pickpockets one, then is shot by what he must initially assume is a dead body. Better character than almost anyone introduced from S3 on.

This cake scene is the most iconic. Jonty were scene stealers stfu. They’re children--basically. They get to act their age. They get to be happy and silly and they loved each other so much.

“Pretend like you’re happy to see me.” / “We are happy to see you.” See? Adorable. I know he’s no cinnamon roll but gosh, adorable.

And then Clarke comes in like secret espionage time and they just look so Tired TM.

I feel like Monty knew, or suspected on some level, that Jasper wasn’t just ‘bummed out’ by Clarke’s suspicions, he was panicking a little.

I can’t believe Jasper and Maya have known each other for like 10 seconds and she’s already seen his O face.

“Clarke’s the only reason we survived.” Um ex-CUSE me but I know you didn’t forget Bellamy’s existence, Jasper.

Clarke’s so smart!

Maya brings out the big guns, literally.

“I’m the one who fired the rockets. Should I not have done that?” is so heartbreaking. Mostly because of the delivery. I love this entire scene. There are like 8 different scenes I love in this episode, like whole-heartedly and truly love.

Clarke’s suspicions really do look like paranoia. Like I see what she’s picking up on, saw it even the first time I watched this ep, but there’s a sense in which she does appear irrational.

There’s actually something kinda funny about Bellamy running out with a spear in one scene, looking around blankly, and then getting chained up as a prisoner in the next scene. At least he inspired his little protege Monroe. Scenes like this are the reason she joined Pike in S3.

Tristan’s like “Who are these fucking children running at me and screaming?” Then he gets shot in the head. Goodbye Tristan you won’t be missed.

“We’re here now. Everything’s going to be okay.” This sounds like Kane playing out a hero fantasy he’s had since he was a child. Except he’s talking to two mud-stained kids who are looking at him skeptically instead of, like, a captured heroine or something.

I feel like they set up this conflict where the adults/Sky People elite come in and, like Kane says explicitly, assume they’re in charge and everyone will fall in line, but then the delinquents don’t see it that way or want that: they have their own priorities (their friends) and their own relationships (Finn and Bell don’t even LIKE each other but they’re still communicating by look) and their own knowledge (the pipes that allow them to move through the dropship camp quickly and without permission). But then... it sort of plays into the rest of the season...but not that much?? Not as much as I would like.

“You are not animals. There are rules. Laws. You are not in control here anymore.”

This show sacrificed a lot of complex relationships to just either make people buddy-buddy who had no reason to be or just arbitrarily assign relationships to scenes or episodes without regard for continuity at all.

Raven took Jasper’s goggles.... never over this.

How was bringing Octavia to TonDC faster than collecting some beetles for her to eat?

“Loss, pain, regret. Time eases these things.” I’d say this is the sort of line the show should be repeating but God when it gets a line in its teeth it never lets the fuck go so I guess it’s better this one remains pristine.

I find Dante very sympathetic but also so creepy.

They weren’t really patrolling for other people, were they? Because like...surely they would have found them. They’re at the dropship and close by. He was just bullshitting here. But why don’t they want to make even more new friends?

Dante’s stationery is presidential themed lol. Glad we stocked up the bunkers properly with the important stuff.

The crashed Alpha Station is beautiful. I believe this was the first time it was shown on the show? Ugh, this whole sequence with the music, it’s perfect and so touching.

Jaha is the most tragic and heartbreaking figure on this show. He also doesn’t get the appreciation he deserves. Just...the image of a man alone in space, talking to his loved ones, hoping they can hear them, not knowing if they can... I almost can’t handle it. I used to be very unsure if I liked where his story line went after this (seeing it in its entirety, I defend it) but surely he could not have died this way.

....I really gotta sleep now.