#i think that's mostly just an indication that i need to make a new helmet lmao. i just havent been getting good resources

[danielnelsen]

so i beat the greater mistral on my first try. it's level 17 and im level 18, so i didnt think i would be able to (solo+nightmare).. it took more than 30 minutes, which is waaaaay too long lmao

oh but you will notice i didnt use any potions. ive got such a good set of abilities and gear that i regen a lot of health and pretty much always have a barrier up

i think my previous run (all trials active for the whole game) really ruined the way i play. that made health potions useless, so i put a lot of work into figuring out the best setup to keep my health, so now i just forget i can actually heal lmao

[moosemonstrous]

Ghost Rider Pacific Rim AU - personal space

Turns out, staying in drift with multiple tons of a highly sophisticated robot for hours at a time gives you a bad case of sea legs.

“Oi, watch out!” One of the techs catches Robbie before he hits the cockpit floor. He’s graduated from control room to the inside of the Conn-Pod, which mostly means there is a lot less space for all the people upgrading the hardware and drawing out plans for removing the other pilot console. “I think you had enough for one shift.”

What, already? “I can–“ But he can’t, because they removed his helmet and he might be sick just from trying to look at someone without seeing the whole hangar at the same time. “Ugh.”

The tech laughs and waves over colleagues to help her unscrew Robbie from the makeshift rigging. In a real fight, he’d have been thrown across the pod on the first hit, but it works well enough to let him move The Charger around the bay. It takes three people with power drills to extract him, and two to effectively carry him out of the cockpit, where Cho and Stark have their monitoring station set up on the walkway.

“Whoa, what’s going on?” Stark demands when the techs deposit Robbie on the crate Cho is currently using as a bed. “I didn’t see a seizure, what’s–“

“He’s exhausted, boss,” the tech points at Robbie, who’s too focused on keeping his head from rolling off his neck to defend himself. As soon as he’s down, two nurses descend to check his eyes and to attach a mini-EEG to his temples. More people have touched him in the last twenty four hours than possibly his entire life up to this point, and if he wasn’t so nauseous he’d be feeling some kind of way about it. “Besides, look at the countdown. Canelo says we need at least six hours to get the wiring sorted. Might as well follow Cho’s example.”

“Right,” Robbie can’t see what Stark is doing, but judging by the deep sigh he doesn’t have it in him to argue, either. “Right, good shout. Yeah, let’s— When did he conk out?”

“An hour ago,” one of the nurses says in a way that promises to cut off Stark’s caffeine access.

“I thought it got quiet. Hey, Reyes, how’re you feeling? Nothing new popped? Brain all good?”

Robbie cracks open his bad eye to look at him over the nurse’s shoulder. He didn’t realise he’d closed them. “Fine. I think.”

“Thinking is a good indicator!” Stark exclaims, throwing his hands up. The enthusiasm makes him look ten years younger. “Go get some chow. Pam, make sure he doesn’t collapse in a hallway somewhere, Jen would eat one of my important organs.”

“I’m fine, I’m just—” Robbie presses his feet into the metal surface of the walkway. His knees feel detached, but less like they won’t hold if he tries to stand. “Just need a minute.”

“You need to sleep,” the nurse – Pam – waggles a finger on his face. “We’ve set up the old Horizon Bravo quarters—”

“No,” he protests. It’s half five. He can just make it, if his legs cooperate. “No, I need to go get my brother. He starts school at seven.” An exchange of significant glances occurs over his head. “I’ll be back after drop off. I’ll grab some food on the way.“

Lisa very kindly offered to help Gabe get ready in the morning when Robbie was told to come back to the hangar for the fifth shift to continue testing. He doesn’t mind leaving his brother to sleep on his own – he could never really afford to – but something about having a virtual stranger take over on such a short notice doesn’t sit right with him.

“Amadeus said you sorted it out,” Stark says, like he suspects he’s being had. It takes Robbie a moment to figure out he’s referring to Cho.

“In case I can’t make it back.” Robbie refuses to back down under his stare. “I can. So I will.”

“…Sure, whatever.” Stark makes eyebrows at Pam the Nurse before turning around to address everyone around: “Alright people, countdown is on fifteen hours! Pilot’s going to catch a snooze, everyone else get on the Conn-Pod while it’s free!”

“Did you not sleep at all?” Gabe yawns while Robbie collects a change of clothes. Parading through the support side in the undersuit made him feel half-naked and he’s not keen on repeating the experience. “Robbie, you have to sleep.”

“I know, buddy.” He’s also not keen on letting Lisa and Pam wait outside for too long. Lisa showed up despite Robbie texting her it was alright, ‘just in case’. “It’s just because the countdown is low, okay? Things will even out soon.”

After the next demon. Jesus, what is his life. If Gabe catches the implication, he doesn’t comment on it, so Robbie gets on with peeling the undersuit off. It’s much harder to do after sweating in it for eight hours and belatedly he realises that’s why you should’ve used that baby powder.

“What’s that?”

When he turns to look over his shoulder, Gabe’s pointing at his back, brows drawn together in concern. Does it show? Does what show? He feels along his shoulder blades as far as he can bend his arm, but other than sweat, nothing is there.

“What’s what?”

“It’s red. Like squiggles, but straight.”

“Where?”

He crouches down to let Gabe draw lines down his spine with his fingers. He still can’t feel anything out of order. “Picture,” Gabe makes a grabby hand for Robbie’s phone.

There are indeed lines of red blotches along his spine. Just skin irritation; something deep in Robbie’s chest releases in relief. Nothing to worry about. Probably just pressure from the spinal clamp. Yeah, those things dig in after a while.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he ruffles Gabe’s hair to his loud displeasure. “The drivesuit left some marks, that’s all.”

“Robbie, are you really going to fight the demon?”

Robbie knows every single expression Gabe has ever made better than his own face. He can tell whether his brother is happy or not, whether he needs space or coaxing, whether everything around him is too much or not enough – the one thing in life he thinks he’s definitely an expert in. But he’s never seen him look like this before. Like he’s afraid to be excited.

“No, I’m just–“ he searches for the right word. “The jaeger isn’t ready, and I’ve not had enough training. I’ll just be protecting the base.” Unless you grow some balls between now and go time. “I’m not doing anything risky, alright? It will probably be really boring.”

Are you kidding? You get to pilot the best-looking jaeger in the line-up and you expect it to be boring? God, he hopes it will be boring. There is a non-zero chance the demon won’t go for Hong Kong at all, and The Charger won’t even come off the suspension rack. He doesn’t want his first job to end up in a disaster because he has no goddamn clue what he’s doing. I know what I’m doing. That’s more than enough.

“I bet it will be really cool,” Gabe smiles encouragingly. Robbie blinks away the alien sense of puffed-up confidence he definitely hasn’t earned. “Lisa said we might go into a bunker. We’ve never been in a bunker before.”

Not that Gabe remembers, at least. “I can still take you to school, you know.”

“You,” Gabe puts his palm against his chest, “need to,” and powers his wheelchair to push Robbie towards the bunk bed: “sleep!”

Despite his insistence, Robbie doesn’t let him just leave. Pam is still waiting outside the door when he unlocks the ramp down to the corridor level. Her and Lisa must have made fast friends, because they abruptly stop talking as soon as they see Robbie. He has no reason to suspect they were talking about him, but two women going quiet and smiling like that never spelled anything good in my life before. Did he put his t-shirt on backwards or something?

“Morning! Are you ready to go?” Lisa grins at Gabe, who squeezes Robbie’s hand before letting go to roll his chair down to her side.

“I have time, I could–“ he starts, but Pam smacks him in the chest with a plastic bag. It smells faintly like bread. The look on her face dares him to finish the sentence.

“We can make it to CC on our own, right Gabe?” Lisa has a hand on Gabe’s shoulder. She and Pam exchange a conspiratorial glance, and Robbie barely gets a hug goodbye before his brother rides away without him.

Pam has enough mercy to let him stand in the doorway for a couple more minutes. “It’s half six,” she observes eventually like she’s commenting on the weather. “Eat the food, all of it. The outfitters expected you to have gained more weight by now.”

When Robbie peeks into the bag, it contains at least two doughnuts. “There’s a pager in there, too. If you aren’t asleep by eight, ping it, someone will come give you downers.”

“Downers?”

She gives him a pitying look. “You need at least five hours. You did well up there, but if you end up out in the ocean, you could be drifting for a very long time. Eat, sleep, and don’t show your face up in the dome until the third shift, no matter what R&D say. Got it?”

Robbie grits his teeth. “Eat, sleep, come back for third shift,” he mutters. “Got it.”

Pam smirks. “Another sunny one.” She pushes him again until he’s fully inside the bunk room and shuts the door behind her. Bitch.

He really needs to rest. Next thing he knows, he’ll be squaring up to Dr Montesi.

...Next time he wakes up, it will be to really pilot a jaeger. Out of the Shatterdome, with a demon due within hours.

Cheer up, kid. What's the worst that could happen?

[thefirstknife]

oo, is there any chance we could please get a masterpost on Trials armor and the deities they're based on? i think that would be really neat!

Took some time to compile all the sets with images and also info, but yes, there's a chance!

Disclaimer that I am not sure about some armour pieces because they are too vague and could be referring to multiple deities so it's up in the air what Bungie artists exactly had in mind. I'll use Wikipedia links for deities to keep the post as short as possible.

Gonna start with Destiny 1:

Titan: Unclear to me. It looks vaguely insectoid though, which might symbolise Khepri or perhaps Serket. I lean more on the side of Serket because of two other Titan sets that have a connection between the deities, which I'll mention when we get there. There's only one official art I can find of just the Titan set and it shows it with the glow which makes it look more connected to Khepri, but the scarab symbol is repeated on these sets very often so it may not be an indication of what deity is represented by the armour set itself.

Hunter: Bastet. One of the clearer ones with the obvious cat symbology. (I need this btw)

Warlock: Unclear, but obviously a cobra. There's a lot of snake symbology in the Ancient Egyptian culture so this one is hard to pin down. However, I am leaning towards this being a representation of Meretseger mostly because of the symbology; Meretseger guarded necropolises, the dead and was closely connected to the underworld, which makes her also connected to Osiris. This being a Warlock set, it makes me think it's supposed to be something that's close to THE Warlock. Possible other interpretation is Wadjet.

Titan: Once again, unclear. The headpiece is obviously of a bird, but just as snakes, there's also many birds in Ancient Egyptian mythology. First that comes to mind is obviously Horus. Without extra details, it's hard to tell the difference between other deities associated with birds, and specifically falcons or hawks. An interesting note, coincidence or not, there's a falcon-headed deity called Nemty which may or may not be just a different title for Horus, but its Greek name is Antaeus (and Nemty's central worshipping city was Antaeopolis). You know, like Antaeus Wards, the Titan exotic (though to be fair, Antaeus from actual Greek mythology and Nemty/Antaeus are not the same thing).

Warlock: Anubis. Pretty clear on this one.

Hunter: Genuinely I have no clue. Seems to focus mostly on the solar symbology and has no visible animal symbol so I am very much in the dark. Possibly the Eye of Ra which is an entity in of itself and is often associated with cat and serpent deities (which Hunter sets also have).

Hunter: Some sort of a snake. Just like the previous Warlock snake, this one is also up for interpretation. Could be the previously mentioned Wadjet (which is also associated with the Eye of Ra so there's a connection) or perhaps Apep.

Titan: Sobek, due to very obvious crocodile pauldrons. The concept art image also shows much better how the helmet resembles a crocodile when viewed directly from the front.

Warlock: Thoth, mostly due to the bond that's literally just Thoth's head of an ibis bird.

And the new set!

Titan: The helmet has ram horns so very likely Khnum, who is a ram-headed deity. This is where I will go back to mention that Khnum, Sobek and Serket have a family connection in some versions of the mythology with Khnum being the father of both Sobek and Serket.

Warlock: Oh my god, another bird. Again, can't truly tell. The feathers on the side of the head may be a hint, maybe not. If Horus was already taken by Titans earlier, then we're working with another falcon, possibly Seker (relation to Osiris, necropolises and the dead). A funny thing to consider would be Anuket who, despite not having a bird head, is represented by ostrich feathers and is sometimes depicted as Khnum's consort. Just throwing that out there for Titan/Warlock natural order of things.

Hunter: :) Monke. Already talked about it, but yeah, this is very clearly the baboon deity Babi.

Some themes are obviously repeating, like connections to Osiris and the underworld, which makes sense given that this is Trials of Osiris.

Another thing that repeats is the solar symbology and, especially on the newest set, the scarab (all sets have scarabs on their knees and arms). Scarabs themselves were also directly linked to symbolising the sun and rebirth.

I'm sure that some of the sets are just vaguely Egyptian and not directly linked to deities, as some of them aren't as clear as the others, but that's also something that all mythologies have in common so it's not out of the ordinary for the sets to be confusing or to seemingly refer to several deities at once.

Hope this helps and that you enjoyed reading! Also I am not responsible if you end up being stuck on Wikipedia clicking through a million links and exploring the rest of the mythology.

[dinpascal]

Little, Green Stinker — Din Djarin

Summary: Grogu, at the wise, young age of fifty years, was actually quite the matchmaker. 

The more time you spent with the Mandalorian’s tiny, green foundling, the more you began to understand how genuinely intelligent he was. Though he still had difficulty in the language department, it was as if he excelled in every other category. 

It began with simple things, such as a particular object being discussed and he would gesture or look in the direction of the said object. As you and the Mandalorian discussed where to head to next, still on the run from the baby’s captors, you made a passing comment about the sun and how blistering it’s rays were on this particular planet. The majority of it was filled with sand, though was less barren than Tattooine. The Child chittered at your feet, previously occupied with drawing various shapes in the sand but now very clearly requesting your attention. 

As you looked down at him, expecting he was wanting validation for his newest drawing, you were surprised to find his arm lifted and clearly gesturing towards the sky — exactly where one of the planet’s two suns sat. In clear surprise, a few unintelligible words spilled from you as you attempted praise, causing the Mandalorian’s attention to lift from the map between you. 

It took him no time at all to catch himself up to speed.

“Yes!” You exclaimed, briefly turning to meet his gaze before back to the baby. “That’s the sun!”

With clear affection, the Mandalorian also praised him with, “Good job, kid” before returning his attention back to the map. 

However, as time progressed, it became more than just associating objects with words. He soon began contributing to conversation. When he’d make grabby hands towards the compartment he knew held the food, you’d off-handedly ask if he was hungry, never truly expecting a response. 

When you stood to unlock the compartment (now locked so the little rascal could no longer get in it himself), you caught movement out of the corner of your eye.

“Did... Did you just nod at me?”

Grogu nodded once more, watching you with an expectant look that very clearly said, ‘can I get my food now?’. Nearly tripping over something in your excitement, you immediately turned towards the ladder to the cockpit and struggled to simultaneously keep yourself on your feet. “Mando! Mando, he just nodded at me!”

As you and the Mandalorian celebrated his newest achievements, Grogu gave you both the uncanny impression he was not as impressed with you both as you were with him. 

With each year, however, you began to notice just how bright he was. When the Mandalorian would climb into the cockpit after bathing, both you and the Child idling in the pilot’s chair, you quickly stood and offered the man a smile. Grogu, secured in your arms, babbled happy nonsense and offered a semblance of a wave towards his adopted father.

“We don’t have much longer until we’ll arrive.” He told you, settling himself in his seat and pressing a few buttons. Grogu then wiggled in your hold and you quickly relinquished and set him gently onto his feet. 

As if saying goodbye, he offered a quick coo before disappearing down the ladder, promptly leaving you and the Mandalorian alone. The latter hadn’t seemed to notice, still busying himself with the ship and keeping his hands busy. 

“I’m thinking he may speak soon.” You told him, gently smiling as you recalled your newest activity — drawing clouds, oceans, anything around you that he could indicate towards and show his understanding. 

The Mandalorian gave no indication he’d heard you, leaning slightly forward to secure the little, silver ball his foundling seemingly held a keen obsession for. After a moment, he drew you from your own thoughts. “You have quite a relationship with him.” He paused, leaning back into his seat and seemingly admiring the stars laid out in front of you both. You missed the slight tilt of his helmet, just enough so he could watch you from the corner of his eye. “He’s seemed happier. Since you’ve joined.”

You twisted your hands together, mostly to give yourself something to do. Just being in his simple presence, seemingly with his full attention, frayed at your very nerves. “He’s very, very special.” You softly exclaimed, smiling fondly at just the thought of the little thing. 

Perhaps, without the helmet, you would have noticed the way his eyes softened as he admired you. Or the way that once he looked at you, it was almost impossible to look away. 

The little swamp rat’s true intentions weren’t discovered for sometime, however. 

As time went on, Grogu would make himself more and more scarce each time you and the Mandalorian were in near proximity. When the Mandalorian would return with a quarry, clearly in need of some aid with a few injuries, his adopted son would abruptly fall sleepy and whine until you bundled him up and deposited him safely into his hammock. When you’d request an extra day on a particular planet, where the sunsets were splashes of purple twisted with a cool blue, Grogu would hobble off to the side to begin collecting new rocks for his collection and leave the two of you to admire the view alone. 

Unsurprisingly, it was the Mandalorian who noticed first.

“I don’t think we’re giving him enough credit.”

His voice drew your eyes, busy trying to scrub the stains out of the baby’s little gown. Occasionally, he would run by squealing and cooing as he chased a butterfly, as naked as the day (you assumed) he was born. “What do you mean?”

His gaze followed Grogu, perched on a box and idly rubbing a cloth over one of his blasters. It was incredibly domesticated, the two of you doing two various “household” activities while your son kept himself gleefully occupied. “Perhaps he’s growing more independent.” He began, helmet momentarily flicking in your direction before back to the green baby. “He was once much more needy. Didn’t particularly like being in a room on his own.”

You hummed your agreement, recalling some of the earliest memories you had with the two of them. Grogu almost always was no more than five feet from one of you. 

“I think he’s purposely leaving us alone.”

You nearly dropped the board you’d been scrubbing against. Grogu purposely leaving you and Mando alone? Why on earth would he—, “He wants his parents to be together.” You reasoned, seemingly everything immediately slipping into place at that moment. Of course he’d want his momma and papa to be together. “Do you really think he understands that much?” 

A soft noise filtered through his modulator and you’d spent enough time with him to know it was either a sigh or a hum. “It wouldn’t surprise me.” 

You sighed and rose to set out the tiny robes to dry, sleeves dripping from where they’d accidentally slipped into the water. “Well, what are we going to do about it?” A warm, secure touch circled your wrist, drawing you close enough to where he could comfortably reach you with both hands. You silently sucked in a breath, cheeks instantly flaming and suddenly forgetting how to think properly. 

He drew your sleeves into both hands, seemingly unaffected by the water beginning to soak through the worn leather he wore on both. He twisted the cloth until the remaining water fell onto the sand at your feet, repeating the process at your other sleeve. “What will we do about it?” He parroted softly, fingers now brushing the exposed skin at your wrist. 

You swallowed, doing your upmost to ignore the flutters building in your stomach and the shocks of electricity shooting up your spine and into your fingertips. “Well, I... We...?”

He hummed a gentle sound of amusement, taking pity on your attempts at speaking and rising to his feet. He brushed a finger against your cheek, hardly a touch but feeling like so much more.

“We’ll take it one day at a time... for the Child’s sake.” 

For some reason, you knew the last part of his sentence wasn’t true. Perhaps it was the way he seemed to linger close to you for a breath, before tapping the underside of your chin and disappearing into the Razor Crest.

That little, green stinker.

[fallenrepublick]

Affections for Tech revealed! He is a sweetheart and absolutely precious. He deserves all the love!

That being said... I know you have a NSFW Alphabet in your amazing mind for him. I am certain of it.

Hah! You know me well...

A is for Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Out. Of. Breath. He's a service top at best, but... in actuality, he's a bottom. Such a bottom. So by the time you're done with him, there are still tears in his eyes, an arm over his forehead as he tries to catch his breath.

B is for Body Part (their favourite body part of their partner or themselves)

Every part of you that he can get a reaction out of. Anything on you that's sensitive is fair game, your chest, between your legs, even places that may be more unconventional. He likes seeing how your legs tense, or the way you shiver when he touches these places. He watches your expressions as he studies and stows away the information for later.

C is for Cum (anything to do with cum basically)

He doesn't have all that much of a fixation on it, other than when you cum for him. It's more of an indicator of how well he's doing, essentially timing himself with how long it takes you to cum. Seeing you cum when you fuck him is a large part of his reward, especially when riding his face.

D is for Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

Praise is a big thing for him, because of how little he usually receives it. And he craves it from you specifically. It may be his fear of becoming obsolete coming into play, but the fact that you so often say how good he makes you feel is enough to make him think about it constantly.

E is for Experienced (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He's experienced with the theory of it all. He's got more than enough knowledge of the human body that the practice itself is simple. But everyone is different, what they like, what they respond best to. It varies so much that actually having sex is whole new learning curve, an opportunity for him to learn about you. So while he's knowledgeable, the experience is something else entirely.

F is for Favourite Position (what’s their go-to sex position?)

He, like many other subs, likes to be ridden. Especially in his armour, with only his codpiece off. But you know, leaning him against the ship console and sucking him off works just as well.

G is for Goofy (are they more serious in the moment or are they more humorous?)

He's more serious, oftentimes having little opportunity to be cheeky or funny about it. You make quite sure of that. And when he's servicing you, he'll be so lost in the task that being humorous isn't on his mind at all.

H is for Hair (how well groomed are they?)

Extremely well kept. He makes absolutely certain that everything is in perfect condition.

I is for Intimacy (how do they act during the moment?)

Nervous, a bit flustered. He can feel his face growing warm as you start touching him, even if it's only slightly, trying to logic his way out of his own head. But he's very willing to listen, following your instructions, your needs. Wide eyes lower to a half-close, attention moves to your lips. He knows exactly what comes next.

Although, on the few occasions where he initiates, he's quite matter-of-fact about it. He needs you, hasn't been able to stop thinking about you for hours on end. Thus, this task is necessary as any other, and he'll even be going on about something else while pulling your clothes off.

J is for Jack Off (Masturbation)

He will a few times, here and there when he has the opportunity to. He does often lose himself in work for a while, so his free alone time is too minimal to fit in a satisfying session.

K is for Kinks (one or more of their kinks)

Overstimulation, mostly. You've also fucked him a few times with his helmet on, which awoke something in him.

L is for Location (favourite places to get dirty)

Anywhere that he can be sure will be empty for the next five minutes at least.

M is for Motivation (what gets them going)

He's an absolute slut for being controlled. Anything you do that's even remotely dominant, sweet-talking him, pinning him, making him beg. That all does it, and does it well.

N is for No (something they won’t do in the bedroom, turn offs)

He doesn't see much value in being mean. He... also doesn't know how to, even if he were to try.

O is for Oral (giving, receiving, skill, etc.)

More of a giver than receiver. When you go to him, hooking your fingers under the band of his glasses, sliding them off the top of his head in a slow motion as you kiss him, he knows what you want. And make no mistake, having you sit on his face might as well be a hobby.

Sometimes, though, you'll push him against the console of the ship, or perhaps into his pilot seat, eagerly pulling off the armor obstructing your reach, and wasting no time in swirling his cock in your mouth. Don't think he's ever going to reject that.

P is for Pace (are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

Usually, he will take it slow, but with you in control, fast and hard works wonders on him. Give him not even a moment to breathe and you'll have him wrapped around your finger the rest of your life.

Q is for Quickie (their opinions of quickies versus proper sex)

He is the master of quickies. He knows exactly where to touch you, and how long it takes you to cum. If he's particularly desperate, he'll pull you somewhere remote, saying quickly as he moves aside your clothes,

"According to my calculations, this room will be unoccupied for the next six and a half minutes, meaning that if I do this..." his fingers delve onto you, preparing you for his cock, "There will still be forty-five seconds left to catch our breath."

R is for Risks (do they like to take risks and experiment?)

Yes! Risks and experimentation are often, the two going hand-in-hand when it comes to him. He's doing it all, discovering new things he likes, trying to beat his last record on how fast, how loudly you climax. To him, that's what it's all about, continuous improvement.

S is for Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?

He can handle a good bit, and he's very good about not cumming unless you tell him to. He can maybe cum three to four times before he starts getting teary. Not that you care.

T is for Toy (do they own toys? Do they use them?)

So. Many. Toys. He owns a few, but always seems to have a new one in progress, many of which are personalized to your bodies, making them even more effective.

U is for Unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

If he's badly behaved about anything, it's the teasing. It's so frequent, sometimes bordering on intense, and he's once made a slight moan slip out of you in front of the others. But he payed for it, so it's even now.

V is for Volume (how loud are they? what sounds do they make?)

He may be a talker, but that doesn't mean he's all that loud. He groans when you grind on him, gasps and moans when you start fucking him. He tries to speak, but it's always interrupted by another noise.

"I-I... I d-don't- AH"

Although... most people walking by can hear him. He thinks he's quieter than he really is.

W is for Wild Card (random dirty headcanon)

He's got fantasies. Lots of them. And he will play them out.

X is for X-Ray (what they’re packing)

...Expect good things.

Y is for Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Tech fucks. No question. Horndog extraordinaire. Worst one out of the batch.

Z is for Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep after)

Not long, considering how much energy you love to drain him of. So long as you're still with him afterwards, he'll be out like a light in a few minutes.

[inkformyblood]

listen close, it’s enough

Commander Cody Week 2021 Day 03 Valour @commandercodyweek Pairing: Codywan Summary: Cody picks up his General’s lightsaber without thinking, returning it in the same moment. But it means so much more than that.

Obi-Wan’s face was pale beneath its coating of ash, but his grin was as sharp as a knife, triumphant and vicious. The clones were drawn to him like moths to a flame, their hands reaching out before they could stop themselves and trailing over the seared edges of his robes — faithfully retrieved by Click, whose face had yet to shift from an expression of mute awe. 

They were pressed so tightly together in the central command room of the ship that the slightest motion rolled through the clones like a wave, closer than any natborn should have been comfortable with. Cody glanced from Click — carefully ignoring the scrap of brown fabric dangling from the edge of his vambrace — to Obi-Wan. The man’s grin hadn’t lessened, merely shifted into something Cody didn’t quite have the name for.

It twisted through his ribs as Obi-Wan caught his eye, a blue as deep as the sea that ripped Cody’s breath from his chest and stretched out a hand towards him. Cody’s hand was steady as he reached across, stepping forward through the faint staccato beats of his brother���s hands against his armour, like a separate heartbeat.

“Well, Commander,” Obi-Wan laughed, reaching out to steady Cody as he stepped into the small circle of clear space next to the Jedi. His other hand rested just beneath Cody’s elbow, the touch featherlight and barely felt through his armour, but Cody knew it was there, warmth burning in his chest. “Do you have a report for me?”

Cody ducked his head to hide the grin bubbling up in his chest, relief flooding through him. They were still finding their footing, as Obi-Wan put it, in this fledgeling war, and the anxiety that wound through Cody’s veins in the quiet that followed every battle was like nothing that the trainers could have prepared him for.

“Yessir,” Cody replied, shifting back into attention and, just like that, the atmosphere in the room shifted. It would have been imperceptible to any casual observer, but Cody could see the slight thinning of Obi-Wan’s grin as it shrunk in on itself, tucked away behind careful professionalism, as the troopers slowly stumbled out of the room. 

They were still pressed together, a stumbling beast with many legs. Cody could make out the slight divisions in their movements as the pilots returned to their chairs, legs stretched out to rest on one another’s, or the painful gaps where a brother was under Helix’s care, a single solitary figure before they were tucked away into another group.

“How are we looking, gentlemen?”

Aspect tipped his head back rather than turn and dislodge Tykyrk’s legs from his lap, and — half-hidden between the console and the pile of discarded plastoid armour — Cody could barely make out the huddled form of Mux in the shadows. He ignored that, focusing instead on the paint on Aspect’s glove, the colours bleeding together like a sunset, as the clone tapped his temple as if he was activating a comm before speaking.

“All good, sir. Minimal damage to the ship, so we should be able to return to Coruscant in under one normal cycle.”

“Excellent, thank you. Keep us posted if that changes.”

Cody ignored the twist of unspeakable emotion in his chest at Obi-Wan’s easy use of us, and nodded to the pilots when their gazes, inevitably, drifted over to him for confirmation.

“Kandosii,” Cody murmured over the comm. His voice was barely louder than a whisper, mostly lost in the hiss of static, but from a thousand voices, he heard the reply, a triumphant hiss of ‘Oya!’

“Shall we, Commander?”

It was easy to fall into step next to Kenobi. Ignoring the urge to reach out, to twine their fingers together or loop an arm around his hip — he knew the press of Kenobi’s weight following the mess of battle, tucked into a bolt hole, and that the man was bulkier than the robes made him seem — was infinitely more difficult. 

“I believe I still have some of the blend I got from Kashyyyk.” Obi-Wan’s grin had returned, a paler imitation of the expression from earlier, but one Cody was more accustomed to seeing. Cody nodded, filing the information away in the growing list in his head, already planning the trades he would need to make in the thriving black market between battalions to get his Jedi more variations. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi’s quarters were slightly larger than Cody’s room and sparse except for the ever-growing pile of datapads and paperwork that matched Cody’s own and the small tea set, carefully tucked away into an alcove next to the desk. The other man turned away, busying himself with the sealed packet, the contents rustling as the water began to bubble, letting Cody place his helmet on the free space Obi-Wan carefully maintained on the small desk and sit on the only chair. 

“Before I forget, Commander—” Cody straightened, fresh tension twisting down his spine at the strange note in Obi-Wan’s voice. “Thank you for retrieving my lightsaber.”

The blush that invaded his cheeks was immediate and intense, visible even on his darker cheeks in the distorted reflection of the metal table. “I’m sorry, sir, I—”

“Commander. Cody. It’s fine.” Obi-Wan’s hand twitched as if he wanted to reach out but caught himself, a flicker of nerves crossing over his face. “I’m grateful for your help.”

Cody had been trying to not think about it, ignoring the consistent messages flickering across his comm from his vode who should have better things to do than tease him, a strange blend of support and reassurance in their words. 

“It’s said that a Jedi’s weapon is their life,” Obi-Wan chuckled, tracing the edge of one finger along the handle of his lightsaber. Cody had been trained to be adaptable, to pick up skills quickly and use them, so it only took a second of holding the lightsaber as he ran on the battlefield earlier to get its measure, igniting it for a second to hit a droid before pressing it back into his General’s hand. “It’s interesting to think about, as I noticed something similar with your armour?”

The words stuck in Cody’s throat for a moment, one hand rising to brush against the verebrace — the colour slightly mismatched against the other pieces of his armour, a pattern painted on the underside in a shaky childlike hand, a relic from before Rex had learned the technique. 

“Yessir, I guess it is.”

Cody supposed that was fitting, in a way, after a few more battles spent with his General. If a Jedi’s weapon was their life, then it made sense that General Kenobi, with his bleeding too-full heart, lost it so often as he threw himself into harm's way again and again and again.

But it was okay. After all, that was what he had Cody for.

⁂

“Really, Anakin?” Obi-Wan’s laugh echoed back to Cody and Rex as they moved through the cavernous corridors of the Jedi Temple. Their footsteps were muted, the sound previously mingling together until they were indistinguishable until the sound of Obi-Wan’s laughter made him pause, basking in it. 

Rex quirked his head to one side as he studied Cody, a gesture that had become indicative of the 501st Legion over the months. “You’ve got it bad, vode.”

“Shut up.”

Rex cackled, but his mocking salute was still precise and exact. 

“Ah, Commander! Captain!”

“Generals!” The pair returned the greeting, snapping into attention for a moment before relaxing at a nod.

“Anakin here was just filling me in on some of your adventures, Captain,” Obi-Wan laughed as Anakin ducked his head, his cheeks flushed like he was a freshly decanted shiny again. “I—”

Obi-Wan broke off, a look of wonder and confusion passing over his face like a cloud blown by the wind. Rex — smart man that he was and Cody could have kissed him for it — moved in an instant, stepping forward and steering Anakin away before the other man could even protest in a clearly well-practised move. 

Heat settled in Cody’s cheeks, his mouth drying as Obi-Wan stepped closer to him, barely any space left between them. This close, Cody could see the faint freckles that lingered across Obi-Wan’s cheeks like an unknown constellation and smell the smokiness from the tea, rather than the battlefield, that clung to him.

Obi-Wan’s hand trembled as he reached for the new lightsaber clip on Cody’s belt, custom-made and still warm from the installation, and it was that slight tremor that caused the burn inside Cody’s chest to increase, a realisation he had been ignoring for so long.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan whispered, more to himself than to Cody as he tugged on the clip, Cody letting the faint motion move him, swaying forward. Obi-Wan’s eyes were blown wide and dark, some emotion Cody didn’t dare put a name to brewing in them. “Oh.”

“Is this okay?” Cody murmured, unwilling to break the moment rolling over them.

“More than okay.” Obi-Wan leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Cody’s in Keldabe. “You are a blessing I do not deserve.”

“You deserve to be looked after,” Cody shot back, torn between letting his eyes slip shut in reverent bliss and wanting to imprint this image of Obi-Wan onto his very soul. “I know you don’t believe me yet, but it’s true.”

Obi-Wan moved to take hold of Cody’s hands, breaking apart just enough to raise them to his lips and kissing the raised scar that twisted across his knuckles — a memento of one of the many times Cody had bled for his Jedi. “Thank you.”

[bellafarallones2]

From the meet uglies prompt list:

84. I’m not entirely sure who you are but we’ve been in a massive prank war ever since your first prank on your friend went awry and I was covered in paint

For JakeHollis, please? Sfw or nsfw! This screams them to me!

JakeHollis, SFW, very light angst, some absolutely weird vibes! QueerElfClub's Hollis cosplay is my headcanon for them always and forever

All told, Jake’s first day at Kepler High hadn’t been too bad. Barclay and Dani had told him roughly what to expect, including a rapid rundown of the Earth history he’d be looked at strangely for not knowing. So far, math was his favorite class, because it was the same as on Silvain. Mama had gotten him into something called AP BC Calculus, which seemed like far too many acronyms for a class about shapes. His next most favorite class was PE.

Now it was almost three, and the final bell had rung. Packing up his backpack had taken so much time that the hallways were mostly empty, and he wandered idly, looking for the exit. Barclay was supposed to be picking him up somewhere called the “kiss and ride,” though Jake had been assured kissing was not mandatory. No signs pointed the way, and Jake knew better than to ask someone for directions. Teenagers were the same everywhere.

He found himself in a wing of the school none of his classes had been in, passing rooms labeled ORCHESTRA and BAND and COLOR GUARD EQUIPMENT STORAGE. The sound of music came through the walls.

Finally, though - miracle of miracles! - he saw the light of day, and hurried towards the door it was coming from. The door was even cracked open, and Jake pushed it open the rest of the way and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

Something hit his head.

Something that made a klang noise against his skull, and he thought for a moment his head had cracked - he didn’t know how fragile these disguises were - but no, there was something else dripping through his hair and down his face and down all over his new colorful jacket. He looked down. It was white and foul-smelling, and when he blinked his eyelashes clumped and stuck together.

Jake was fairly certain neither Dani nor Barclay had mentioned this. He could barely see, just the edges of a person saying oh fuck, I’m so sorry, I thought you were Keith, and tugging him back into the school, which was not at all where he wanted to go.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” the voice said, and Jake found himself in a restroom, without even the time to make sure it was the correct one - he needed to be in one called BOYS or MEN, or the one with a little outline of a person without a skirt. or GENTLEMEN. (Barclay knew a long list of things he’d seen printed on bathroom doors.)

But here he was, and he bent to the sink to wash his face and came up dripping. Then he repeated the introduction he’d given so many times already today.

“I’m Jake,” he said. “Dani’s brother.” (People knew Dani; she’d graduated only two years earlier. He told teachers he was Barclay’s brother. Barclay was a little older, but a better student than Dani had been.)

“Oh,” said the person. “I think I had an art class with her. I’m Hollis.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Hollis had curly black hair and brown skin, and the sleeves of their shirt were tattered like they’d been cut off and not hemmed afterwards. When they rubbed at the stuff on Jake’s sleeve with a wet paper towel he could see the fine line of muscle beneath the skin in their arm.

Jake took a deep breath. “Do you think you could point me towards the kiss and ride?”

By the time Jake climbed into Barclay’s truck, he was as clean as one could get with hand soap and paper towels.

“How was your first day?” said Barclay, tactfully not saying anything about the paint.

“Fine. I’m really glad you and Dani told me so much about what to expect. But when I was trying to find my way out at the end of the day a bucket of paint fell on my head.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Someone helped me clean up, though. Their name’s Hollis. I think we’re friends now?”

“Well, that’s nice.”

“One girl in my homeroom brought in brownies to share with everybody because it was her birthday. Are you allowed to do that even if it’s not your birthday?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Can I bring in cupcakes tomorrow? The ones you make are really good and I think people would like me if I gave them some.”

Barclay looked over at him, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll make you some cupcakes.”

--

The cupcakes were gorgeous. Each was as the platonic ideal of what a cupcake should be, the cupcake held before the fire to cast a shadow in Plato’s confectionary cave. The cake part was delicate and moist and yellow, and the frosting was pink, dusted with rainbow sprinkles.

“Oh,” said Jake’s homeroom teacher when she saw him come in carrying the lovingly packed tray. Barclay had put crumpled saran wrap between each cupcake so they wouldn’t knock into each other. “Is it your birthday, Jake?”

“Nope! But I brought cupcakes for everyone.”

“Alright,” said the teacher. “You can start passing them out now, if you’d like.”

Jake held out the tray to each person in the first few rows in turn, receiving varyingly sincere ‘thank you’s in return. But sitting in the back corner by the window was Hollis, and when Jake got to them, he didn’t hold out the tray. No, he selected the most perfect cupcake there was, cupped its soft bottom, and shoved the perfect pink frosting into Hollis’ perfect face.

“Oops,” Jake said sweetly.

“Jake!” said the teacher. “What do you think you’re doing!?”

But Hollis was already laughing, wiping pink frosting off their face and licking it off their fingers. “It’s fine, Ms. B., we’re in a prank war.”

“Well, please refrain from waging it in my classroom!”

“I’m sorry,” said Jake. He’d never heard the phrase prank war before, but the word war he didn’t like at all. War was the slowly narrowing boundaries of habitable land, war was an enemy that was somehow both inuman and implacably angry.

The boy sitting to Hollis’ left was looking up at Jake with something like shock and anger in his face. Looking away, Jake held out the plate of cupcakes to him so he could select his own.

--

Jake still had trouble finding the cafeteria, and so most of the students were seated when he arrived. He was scanning looking for a seat where he wouldn’t be intruding on someone else’s friend group when Hollis’ waving hand caught his attention. “Yo, Jake! Come sit with us?”

Jake hurried over. Before he reached the table Hollis elbowed the boy who was sitting next to them, the same one who’d been next to them in homeroom, and he scooted hurriedly over into the next seat so Jake could sit next to Hollis.

“Hello,” Jake said, nodding at each person at the table.

“This is Jake,” said Hollis. “He got me good in homeroom with a cupcake to the face.”

The others at the table laughed.

“Jake, this is Keith, Madison, and Ty,” Hollis continued, indicating the boy who’d been displaced, a girl with purple streaks in her long brown hair, and a boy with a mullet.

“Nice to meet you,” said Jake. He listened to them talk as he unpacked the lunch Barclay had packed him. A sandwich on part of a baguette, a chocolate-chip cookie, a honeycrisp apple (Jake had just been on earth long enough to have opinions about the different varieties of apples), and a note reminding him that Barclay loved him and wanted him to have a good day.

His tablemates were discussing what they were going to do over the weekend. Ty suggested going to Walmart, which was shot down on the grounds that they’d done that last weekend. No one’s parents were out of town, which eliminated the possibility of a house party.

“There’s nothing to do,” Madison whined.

“Can you drive places?” Jake asked.

Everyone went quiet. “Yep,” said Hollis. “When Madison’s parents let her use the car.”

It was Jake’s first autumn on earth, and from his bedroom window on the second floor of Amnesty Lodge he could see the leaves changing colors, red and orange and yellow between the bristles of the evergreens. “You could drive around and look at leaves. I’d like to come along, if that’s alright.”

Everyone was silent, deciding whether that was the lamest thing they’d ever heard or so lame it went straight through the other side into being kind of a good idea again.

“Fuck it,” said Hollis finally. “Let’s do it. And of course you’re invited, Jake, let me add you to the group chat.”

--

That Saturday, a silver Honda pulled up in front of Amnesty Lodge. Madison was at the wheel, Ty in the front passenger seat, and Keith sulking in the back. Behind it was a sleek motorcycle, and the rider’s helmet reflected the autumn leaves above.

Hollis pulled off their helmet. Their hair was disheveled and gorgeous. “If it was five of us in the car someone would have had to sit in the middle back, and that sucks,” they said. “Hop on, Jake.” They were holding out a second helmet.

“Um,” said Jake, offering them a bottle of sparkling cider with gold foil around the neck. “I brought something for us to drink?” The agreement had been that they would drive to one of the pull-off spots along the highway and have drinks there.

“Sweet,” said Hollis. “Put it in the back of the car?”

When Jake opened the back door of the car he saw a case of white claw on the seat next to Keith. “Was I supposed to bring alcohol?” Jake said. “I could have.” There was wine at the lodge; sometimes on the weekends Mama and Barclay went wine-tasting together, because Dani’s ID said she wasn’t old enough.

“No, Jake, you’re fine,” Hollis said. “Climb on.”

Jake fit the helmet over his head and climbed onto the smooth leather seat of the motorcycle behind Hollis. “Hold on tight,” said Hollis.

The motorcycle roared to life like one of Silvain’s larger beasts. Then it leaped forward, swerving hard to veer around Madison’s parents’ car. Jake swallowed a shriek and held on tighter. He could no longer feel the soft fabric of Hollis’s shirt, only the beast beneath them and the wind tearing at their jackets and the red, orange, and yellow leaves racing by above.

By the time they reached the appointed meeting place the others weren’t even in sight.

“So,” said Hollis when they pulled their helmet off. “What brings you to Kepler?”

Jake knew how to lie, when presented with questions like this. But with Hollis they found they didn’t want to. “I got kicked out of my old school.”

Hollis’s eyebrows went up.

“For… stealing.” Stealing food, because his family’s traditional hunting grounds had been corrupted by the Quell, and everyone else had barely enough for themselves. The huge mounds of apples in the grocery store in Kepler were the first thing to convince him he’d been exiled to paradise.

“Damn, Jake. And here I thought you were so wholesome.”

Jake threw up a hang-ten. “Nah, I’m a real bad boy.”

“Are you… with anyone? From your old school?”

“Nope. Are you?”

“Nah.” Hollis took a deep breath. It was the first time Jake had noticed them breathing. Human beings had to breathe so frequently, he’d found, and he sometimes forgot to until his lungs reminded him. His old body had been able to hold its breath for over an hour, collapsing his lungs so he was sleekness against the water inside and out. Incompressible.

“Wanna make out?” said Hollis.

“Yeah,” said Jake.

Hollis leaned in and kissed him. The best part was how warm their lips were, how warm their face was, right up close to his. No, scratch that. The best part was how they smelled, a smell Jake hadn’t encountered on earth up to that point but knew now he could never get enough of. No, the best part was -

Tires on gravel. Jake startled, but Hollis didn’t stop kissing him, even as Madison honked the horn on her parents’ car.

To Jake, that was the most surprising thing, that Hollis would want to kiss him in front of their friends. Teenagers were the same everywhere.

[heyitmelexie]

Falling In Love

Din Djarin x riduur!F!Reader

Word count: 3444 Warnings: mention of wounds and blood Rating: Teen and up

A/N: Day 9 of the December Writing Challenge by @honeymandos​! ❤️

This was also my first time ever writing for Din!

I know it’s late but I’m currently pretty occupied with uni etc. Hope you enjoy anyway!!  ❤️

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

The sweet smell of Bantha-butter pancakes tickles your nose and pulls you from your peaceful slumber.

As you open your eyes you see soft beams of sunshine creep through the window, illuminating your exposed legs and bathing them in warmth.

You smile and stretch, hearing the sizzling noise of the pancakes coming from the kitchen, accompanied by soft talking, gentle coos and occasionally one or the other clank.

The door is slightly ajar, but you can still see the domestic scene playing in the other room.

Din, in only his pants and with his hair still mussed, stands with his broad back turned to you. He’s making breakfast while quietly talking to your little green son, who sits on the counter right next to him. You see his ears occasionally perk up, followed by coos and little giggles, making you smile.

“Look, now you flip it. Just like this” you hear Din say, before (you assume) he tries to flip it with the pan. You expect to hear the loud sizzling again, indicating that the uncooked side of the pancake landed safely back in the pan. Instead, you hear a dull splash, like a wet fish falling onto tiles, followed by strings of curses coming from Din and a loud, hearty laugh from that little womp rat.

You laugh softly at that, getting out of bed to make your way into the kitchen.

Upon hearing your laugh coming from behind him, Din turns and looks at you, a sheepish smile playing on his flustered face.

“I hope I didn’t wake you, cyare” he says before quickly cleaning up the mess he made.

“Not really. I woke up from the smell of my favourite breakfast” you hum, before kissing your son’s wrinkly little head. He coos happily and then stretches out his arms to make grabby hands at you. You chuckle softly and then proceed to pick him up. He immediately snuggles against you, one of his little claws clutching onto your shirt.

Din smiles, before gently kissing your lips and then continuing to make the breakfast.

You take the time to go outside into your little garden with the child in your arms.

The sun immediately engulfs you in its warm light and you lay down in the soft grass between the flower beds. The little one moves to get comfortable on top of you, snuggling into your chest and cooing contently.

You smile at him and gently caress his big ears.

Din and you had built this little hut on Naboo together just about a year ago, finally deciding to partially settle down and have a somewhat quiet life. He would occasionally still go on a few hunts to get some credits for the three of you while you would stay home with the child. He would always make sure to not stay away for too long. Din had gotten really used to this simple life with you.

As you now lay there in the grass, admiring yours and Din’s handiwork, you think back to how you two met.

And what had made you realize that you had deeply fallen for this beskar-clad warrior (and honestly sometimes tin can dumb bitch of a man).

You grew up in a very small village that was hidden in the lush forests of Naboo. People there were kind and caring, always helping each other and even going so far as helping out strangers that desperately needed the help.

And that’s what had led to meeting him.

*

You were some sort of healer for the people of your village. Mixing concoctions, ointments, bacta gels, etc. Taking care of wounded and ill people. They trusted you with their lives and that had filled you with a great sense of pride.

One day, while you were collecting herbs in your little garden, you could hear a loud commotion coming from the marketplace. The noise steadily grew louder until five people stormed in, carrying a person covered head to toe in fabrics and metal, that was bleeding profusely from a deep wound in their lower abdomen. A pool of blood was very quickly forming on the floor and then on the bed once they put the person on it.

You dropped everything you held and rushed inside, immediately starting to cut off the fabric from around the wound to get better access to it, not even thinking about removing the armour and pants. You knew what that would mean.

You had heard about Mandalorians before. Strangers come and go; they spend most of their time at the small cantina. Many of them weren’t very social and would mostly just ignore the questions they were asked. But others, they would talk and then wouldn’t stop, much to the delight of the folks here.

That’s how one day you met a woman called Rook Cava.

She was unlike any other person you had ever met before. Just like this wounded person, she was covered in fabrics and metal armour, from head to toe. The specially shaped breast plate was the only certain physical indication for you that assured you she was a woman. The armour had been painted a very deep purple, the paint was already chipping away here and there. On the helmet, around the visor, there were golden, intricate symbols. She was mysterious and, even though you had no idea what she looked like, you thought she was breathtakingly beautiful.

She emitted such strength and power. The armour made her look bulky, but the fabric underneath laid snug against her skin and you saw her biceps. She wasn’t bulky, no, she was strong and muscular. You had never seen a woman like her before. She rendered you speechless and at the same time there were so many questions you wanted to ask her. But you didn’t want to overwhelm her, so you kept these questions to yourself.

So instead, you let her rest for a bit, she had obviously been travelling for a long time before taking a break on Naboo.

Rook was a step ahead of you though because the next morning she knocked at your door. She explained that she needed a few ointments and new bacta gel for the next few weeks of her travels and that everyone had told her to go seek you out for that.

Without hesitation you had let her in, offering her a seat and something to drink which she politely declined.

You sat in comfortable silence for a bit, while you collected the things she needed and also freshly mixed some of them so she could take a bigger amount with her.

Rook noticed that you held back your questions, always glancing at her, at her armour. She smiled under the helmet, amused and also astonished that you hadn’t drowned her in your questions yet.

She slightly shook her head in amusement and leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms behind her head.

“What do you wanna know?”

Your head snaps up to look at her, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. Her question had caught you off guard and she had laughed at your shocked reaction, heat creeping to your cheeks in embarrassment.

“It’s fine. I know I’m not a very common sight. Go ahead, ask your questions” she said, her voice warm and friendly. The complete opposite from her fierce appearance.

“Uhmm… what exactly are you?” ‘What exactly are you?!’ You wanted to slap yourself across the face for such a stupid question. But Rook didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m a Mandalorian. Have you ever heard of those?” You shook your head no at that and she nodded, showing you that she understood.

“To be clear, a Mandalorian is not a race. It’s a creed. You can be born by Mandalorian parents and grow up to become one yourself, or you could be a foundling. Those are children who lose their families at a very young age. They can be taken in by Mandalorians so they have a home and protection. They will grow up and become warriors as well, they will swear the oath. They will live their lives in anonymity, protecting their creed.”

You let that sink in and crush the herbs in your little bowl. Your eyebrows furrow and you take in her armour again.

“Anonymity… What exactly do you mean by that? I mean, I know your name. So, that isn’t very… anonym, is it?” She smiles, but you can’t see it.

“I decided to go by my name because I was just tired of everyone calling me Mando. I hated it. Some of my kind decide to keep their names to themselves, only revealing them to their loved ones and children. Others, like me, are okay with sharing that information. And, by the way, do people check if the name is real anyway?” You laugh at that. She was right. She could tell everyone a made-up name and they would believe it. Nobody checks.

“But, unless you are the wife of a Mandalorian, you will never be able to put a face to that name. We don’t reveal our faces to anyone but our families. If a Mandalorian takes off the helmet in front of another living thing, the Creed would be soiled, the oath you swore - broken. And we are nothing without our Creed. It’s our religion, it’s sacred, holy. It’s what makes us who we are. And we will kill anyone who tries to take that from us.”

“Is that why you declined the water? And why you asked for the food to be brought to your room last night, so you wouldn’t have to eat in the cantina? Because you can’t take off your helmet?”

She just nodded and you hummed in response, thinking about your next question.

“What happens when you get hurt and someone has to access, let’s say, your thigh. Do you just have to risk dying or are others allowed to see other parts of your body?”

She seemed to think about that for a moment, trying to come up with a good answer.

“Technically we aren’t allowed to show any part of our body to anyone. But wounds are, let’s say, a little loophole. If the wound is dangerous and could possibly kill me, then we can let them assess it. Let’s take your example.” She taps one of her thigh plates.

“If I had an awful wound on my thigh that I couldn’t take care of alone and would need help with, I can take off my thigh plate. You can’t take off my pants but you can cut a hole into the fabric so you can access the wound properly. You couldn’t see much of my skin. My Creed would be intact and you can save my life.” A loophole.

This brings you back to your current situation.

“You need to take off his armour! And his clothes! How can you dress his wound like that?” one of the villagers says, not understanding why you just cut a whole into that person’s pants.

You assumed it was a man, his shoulders seemed to be too broad for a woman and his chest plate was quite flat.

“I can take care of his wound like that just fine” you say, telling them what you needed in order to close and disinfect the wound.

It took you a bit over an hour until you had finally finished stitching it up and wrapping gauze around his thigh.

He still wouldn’t move; the blood loss must have weakened him. You had checked his pulse just to be sure he was still alive and then bundled him up into blankets

Just when you finished cleaning the blood stains and tidying the room, he jolted awake, startling you.

He quickly scanned the room before pulling the blankets off of him and attempting to stand up. You saw his knees buckle slightly and rushed over to steady him, carefully pushing him back onto the bed.

“You need to lie down and rest for a while. You lost a lot of blood” you told him, getting him a glass of water and digging out a straw from your drawers.

You held the glass out for him to take but his visor was focused on your face.

“Who are you? Where am I?” His rough and rather deep voice sent a shiver down your smile that you tried to suppress. You just smiled and told him your name, gently pushing the glass into his hand but he didn’t drink yet, still looking at you.

“You’re on Naboo. A few hours ago you were brought to me because you had a very nasty wound on your abdomen, bleeding like mad. I took care of it, but you need to rest or the stitches will break open again and you’ll risk an infection. And you need to drink” you say, pushing the glass a bit closer towards his face.

When you turn around to put the trash away, he tucks the straw under his helmet and quickly empties the glass. He’s relieved to notice that he immediately feels a bit less lightheaded and puts the glass on the little table before lying back down. For some odd reason he feels like he can trust you.

“I didn’t take off your armour or your clothes. And especially not your helmet, so don’t worry. I must admit though that I put my hand under your helmet as best as I could to see if there would be any blood. But I looked away while I did that, I promise. I know it’s forbidden” you turned back to him, a gentle smile on your face.

“I… Okay. Thank you.”

You felt relief wash over you, glad you hadn’t somehow done anything wrong or harmful, internally thanking the Force for sending Rook your way those few years ago.

The Mandalorian spent about a week at your house, resting and healing.

You had learned that he was hunting a bounty and somehow they had managed to ambush him. The wound on his leg was caused by a warspear the bounty had rammed into his thigh in a moment of inadvertence.

Din had to admit to himself that he… liked you. You were kind and caring. You weren’t one of those people that would ask him when the last time was he took off the helmet or if he’d ever taken it off in front of someone else. None of your questions or conversations were focused on his appearance or his life, which he was very grateful for. He trusted you, but he didn’t want to share such private information with someone he didn’t know well enough.

You simply took care of his wound, made him drink enough water and you would leave him alone whenever he needed to eat.

Not even the conversations with you felt awkward.

You willingly told him about your upbringing, what you had done so far in your life and you also told him about your encounter with Rook Cava.

He knew that he was lucky you had this knowledge of his Creed. What if you hadn’t known it and would have taken off his helmet? He figured that he must have killed the whole village then in order to somehow keep his Creed intact… That thought sends a shiver through his body, once again he felt lucky that he ended up in your care.

When he felt stronger and healthier again, ready to leave Naboo behind, the thought of you sitting in his co-pilot chair flashes through his mind.

He didn’t want to leave you. He didn’t know why, but he wanted you to come with him and stay by his side.

‘I just need someone with her skills’ is what he tells himself.

And when he asked you to come with him, he was surprised at how quickly you said yes, agreeing to leave your home behind to travel through the galaxy with him.

As much as you loved the village, you really wanted to see other parts of the galaxy. So you quickly said your goodbyes and packed your things. You were excited to start this new chapter.

You ended up staying and travelling with him for the following 6 years, before you settled down last year.

During this time, your little green rascal became a part of your family, making you a clan of three. That filled Din with great pride and whenever he looked at his little clan, he felt happy and warm. You two were his entire galaxy and he would make sure that nothing ever happened to you.

One evening, you two had been ‘dating’ for about two years now, the kid was sleeping in his pram and you sat on his lap in the pilot chair, his arms around you. You had asked him a question that had floated through your mind for quite a while.

“When did you know you loved me?” You stared out of the windows, the stars just streaks of light during hyperspace. Din stopped caressing your back for a moment and seemed to think about this.

“Pretty sure it was the first time you smiled at me” he said, making you laugh softly and swat his chest.

“Sure thing, shiny” you giggled, making him smile at you under the helmet.

He held you closer to him and leaned his helmet against your shoulder.

“I think it was the moment I realized I couldn’t leave Naboo without you” he said, continuing to caress your back. “That whole week, you took great care of me and I’ve never felt this comfortable around anyone outside of my tribe before. For whatever reason I trusted you right from the beginning. That first smile you flashed me, if I didn’t already sit I would have probably had to sit down. I never felt like this before I met you. Your presence was calming and kind of made me giddy. I don’t know how to describe it…” You smiled and pressed a kiss to the side of his helmet.

“Like butterflies fluttering inside you? The constant urge to smile?” He thought about it for a moment and then nodded. Grateful for his helmet covering his face because he was sure it was just as red as a tomato.

“The thought of leaving without you, it… it kind of hurt. I was imagining you sitting in my co-pilot chair while I would fly. I even dreamed about you… Back then, I didn’t know I was in love with you. I had never loved anyone this way before. You changed my whole life. To the better. I thought I would die alone. No family, no friends, nothing. But then you strut into my life with that stupid little smile of yours and you gave me hope.”

Your chest swells with pride at his confession, warmth spreading throughout your whole body.

You gave him hope. Home. A family, even before this little womp rat waddled into your life. You made the love of your life believe in a happy ending for himself and that was more than you could ever ask for.

“But what about you, cyar’ika? When did you know you loved me?” he asked, while gently putting a hand on your thigh.

“I think it was the first time I saw you straddle that speederbike back on Tatooine. That was pretty hot.”

He laughed at that, gently squeezing your bum and tutted.

“You are unbelievable.”

*

You didn’t realize you fell asleep again until a gentle hand shakes you awake. Your eyes flutter open and you look right into the face of your riduur. He smiles at you and kisses your nose, making you giggle before you gently kiss him.

After a moment he slowly breaks the kiss and sits next to you in the grass, a big plate full of pancakes in front of him and a bottle of chee-chee berry syrup in his hand.

Before you can sit up, the kid scrambles off your chest and goes to launch himself at the plate of pancakes, but Din is quicker. He scoops him into his arms and then puts him into his lap.

“They’re for all of us, ad’ika” he softly tuts, before taking a pancake and slowly tearing it into little pieces to feed him.

You smile and sit up, pressing a kiss to your riduur’s cheek and one to your son’s head.

The Force had blessed you with such a beautiful little family. And soon there would be another little one moving and kicking inside of you. But you had yet to tell your lover.

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

@absurdthirst​ @dindjarindiaries​ @tangledlove27​

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [92]

viii. anaconda

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: angst, language, anxiety.

Summary: your average day as a disciple quickly becomes not so average when a new group arrives in bardo.

a/n: a shorter upload after a few longer ones, and then we’ll be getting into some good ones next week! still can’t believe we’re almost done! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

You wake the same way you have for the last three months in Bardo: before the morning alarm goes off.

Your eyes pull open to the room around you, larger than any room you’ve ever had before, but modest in belongings, only holding the necessities. You roll over and stare at the ceiling, your mind going the same place it does every morning: to Bellamy and Clarke.

Bellamy, who has been dead for months at this point, is still on your mind. Some days, the loss is as fresh as it was the moment you found out, though you can never show it. Other days, you find yourself forgetting him. The sound of his voice, the feel of his lips on your own, the laugh that he saved just for you. That bright smile that made you feel on top of the world. All of that is gone, and even worse, you're starting to forget. 

The realization that you’re starting to forget might be worse than actually forgetting, because the realization is always accompanied by guilt. Sometimes you find yourself smiling, enjoying yourself, and then the memory of Bellamy’s death comes right back to you, sucking the happiness from the moment. But the guilt from forgetting him, from realizing that those lost memories are nearly impossible to get back, it eats at you. Reminds you daily of what Bardo and the disciples took from you. And when you feel yourself forgetting your anger, softening to this planet and these people, Wanlida reminds you.

In a way, you’re not sure you can live without her now. 

Her presence has always been pushed away, buried deep, not wanting to accept that she could be a part of you. But since your arrival on Skyring and Wanlida’s initial takeover, you rely on her to remind you of your anger. You rely on her to remind you of the feral, dark, awful parts of your soul that crave the destruction of Bardo. She keeps your anger sharp and expression blank, like Echo, who condemned you for Wanlida on Skyring, but who now acts just as cold. So much of her was lost when Bellamy died, and at first it brought out the jealousy in you. But as time passed, you started to realize that it wasn’t so much the loss of Bellamy that changed Echo. Sure, his death hardened her heart, but the knowledge that her family is broken, that more of the people she loves are either dying or in danger? That’s what changed her. She is so much like the Azgeda spy you met in Mount Weather, and so little like the woman you called sister on Skyring. It hurts you to see that change in her, though you suspect the others often feel the same way about you.

Your mind also drifts to Clarke, your twin, your other half, the time you’ve spent without her stretching on and on. You wonder if you’ll ever see her again, your time apart now going on five plus years, though it’s felt like less for her. Anders told all of you months ago that he sent a team after her, and that it would take time for them to return to Bardo due to the time dilation, but you’ve never had much trust in Anders. Not since everything he put you through in M-Cap. 

Still, you hope he’s wrong. Because despite missing your sister so much it physically hurts you sometimes, you don't want her here. You don't want her on Bardo, on this damn planet that has either taken people you love or changed them forever. You want her somewhere else, anywhere else, as long as it’s safe and she’s okay. Bardo has been nothing but terrible for you from the moment you arrived, and you don't want that for Clarke. You hope that she’s on Sanctum and she’s happy and at peace. You hope that everyone has learned to get along, and that she is building a compound for the rest of your people, the way all of you were trying to do before everything went to shit. You hope Madi is okay, and that she’s going to school, the way she always wanted to. You miss your bright little sun and her endless hope for the world, because these days, you could use some of her hope.

Your thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the morning alarm, and you roll out of bed, dressing quickly for your day, the fifteen minute countdown starting. You make sure your hair is out of the way before you pull on a disciple suit, your disciple suit, given to you this time instead of being stolen from a dead body. It’s comfortable enough, which is good because you usually pull long days, picking up extra shifts where you can. Anything to keep your brain distracted from thinking, or from the memories that threaten to plague you.

As soon as you’re dressed and your helmet is in hand, you push the button on your door and step outside, joining Echo, Octavia, and Diyoza as they come down the hall towards you. All of you keep your expressions mostly blank, only nodding in greeting, aware that someone is always watching in Bardo. All of you were supposed to sever your familial bonds weeks ago, and though you pretended to, none of you actually did. Well, except for Echo. Only in your occasional secret meetings do you interact the way you normally would, though paranoia has made even those few and far between these days.

All of you move down the hall towards the mess hall, the disciple schedule pretty structured and routine. You wake up during the alarm and have 15 minutes to get ready. Walk to the mess hall and have breakfast for 30 minutes. Light training for an hour before going to your assignments for 4 hours. Break for lunch for an hour, more advanced training afterwards for at least an hour. Return to your assignments for the remainder of your shift, then report to dinner. After dinner, there is personal time before it’s lights out. There isn't an official curfew, but it’s generally frowned upon to be out after personal time since they want everyone in the best shape possible for the Last War. The exceptions, of course, are additional training sessions for the betterment of Bardo, or extra shifts picked up to help someone out. Because everything that you do is for all mankind, it’s encouraged to help others. Because helping others is helping everyone, and that’s all they care about here.

As you step into the mess hall, your eyes instinctively search the room, looking for Gabriel. You do it every morning, being careful to be subtle, as you haven't seen him since they dragged you from your shared cell three months ago. You haven't seen him in the halls, and since you’re supposed to be indifferent about him, you can't ask around, leaving you to wonder if he’s okay, or even on Bardo at all. But just like every morning, Gabriel is not among the people dressed in white in the mess hall, leaving you to worry about him, as usual.

You hop in line and grab your meal, some sort of non descript something, designed for energy and efficiency, to meet all of your nutritional needs. It’s not very good, though you guess it isn't awful. It keeps you full until the next meal, and it’s edible, but it makes you long for the days of family meals on Skyring. It even makes you miss Hope’s jellyfish etouffee. Hope. Awaiting her Penance on Skyring, thanks to Echo. How the hell are you going to get her out of this one? 

You shake your head, scrambling your thoughts, not wanting to fall down this rabbit hole right now, because you’ll never get out of it. Instead, you separate from Octavia, Echo, and Diyoza, all of you moving to sit at different tables with different people, appearing not to care about each other. You sit down with a group of level 2s, nodding in greeting before eating your nutrition bar and drinking your nutrition shake. You imagine that it’s something delicious, making it easier for you to get down, tricking your brain into thinking that you enjoy it, just like everything else in Bardo.

As soon as you finish, you stand and return your tray to the line, leaving it to be cleaned, turning just in time to stop yourself from running into Octavia. The two of you apologize, pretending to be strangers, and as you start to move apart, towards your respective assignments, an alarm blares out. 

“Attention all available disciples: please report to Level 8. I repeat, please report to Level 8.”

You and Octavia exchange a look, the request odd, as it sounds urgent. You both immediately start following the wave of other disciples, pulling on your helmet as you go, trying to understand the wave of urgency moving through the crowd. The 8th level. You rack your brain to find the map of Bardo that you memorized years ago, mentally running through the levels until you reach the 8th one. The cryo labs. The Shepherd. 

The man you spent the last few months learning about, whose teachings you had to memorize, resides on the 8th level. And he is only disturbed every few years to be updated on the progress of the Last War before he is returned back to cryo until the next update. But if all of you are being sent to the 8th level, then that means that either something is wrong, or the Shepherd is awake. And as all of you rise in the elevator to the 8th level, you think that maybe both guesses are true. There is a quiet nervousness rustling through the crowd, indicating that this is not something normal, and as the doors slide open to your destination, a sharp intake of breath moves though the disciples around you.

As everyone marches out of the elevator and into the hall, you see why. 

Standing beside Anders is an older man, his hair and beard long, sandals on his feet, you know that only he could be the Shepherd. You only get a glimpse of him as you move by and fall into formation, but when you do, you realize that you recognize him. Something about his face is so damned familiar, though you don't know why. It bothers you as Anders tells all of you that there is a disturbance in the Stone Room, it bothers you as you move down the hall and guard the two men, and it bothers you as you arrive at the one way off of Bardo. And as you stand there, less than six feet behind the Shepherd, you realize that the man in question is Bill Fucking Cadogan. 

Crazed cult leader that built the Second Dawn Bunker beneath the tower of Polis, the man that burned Becca Pramheda at the stake, the man that has been alive since the first Praimfaya, nearly hundreds of years ago, is now standing in front of you. So many questions are running through your mind, primarily ‘how the hell is this possible?’, until you remember Gabriel’s words to you when you first arrived on Bardo, listening to a speech given by Anders. There must be a stone on Earth.

Bill Cadogan found an Anomaly Stone on Earth and came to Bardo. Bill Cadogan took his cult to the next level by delivering them from Praimfaya, into the safety of Bardo. Bill Cadogan stays asleep in cryo for years at a time, waiting for an update on the Last War, so that he can lead Bardo into battle. And if Bill Cadogan is awake and standing in front of you right now, waiting for the doors to the Stone Room to open, that can only mean one thing.

The Key to the Last War is here.

Clarke is here.

As if on cue, the doors slide open. Anders and Bill peer inside, their eyes searching the scene. Clarke is there, along with Raven, Miller, Niylah, Jordan, and Gabriel, weapons pointed Bill’s way. And you have to ignore every cell in your body that is telling you to run to your twin and tell her everything. Because you have a part to play, one you’ve been carefully playing for months, a part that you can't mess up now. You feel someone beside you shift, their glove brushing yours, and you're sure it’s Octavia, her face likely smiling behind her helmet at the sight of Clarke, the same way yours is.

And though you want to run into the Stone Room with her and shut the door behind you, you watch as Bill lifts his hands in surrender, head turning towards the Bardoans trapped in the room. “I’m coming in alone, unarmed.”

Bill starts walking inside, and Raven yells from the back, “Who are you?”

“They call me the Shepherd, but you can call me Bill.” You see his arms drop, though your gaze is focused on Clarke. She is watching Bill closely, realization crossing her features as she remembers the pages of articles Jaha showed all of you years ago, before you knew about Bardo or Anomaly Stones. Bill focuses on Clarke now, directing his plea to her. “You have me. Now let my people go.”

Clarke shakes her head a little, getting a hold of herself, before turning and muttering. “It’s okay.”

All of the Bardoans quickly run from the room, moving out into the hall and away from the confrontation, leaving Gabriel behind with the others. And with a roll of anxiety, you watch the doors to the Stone Room slide closed again, cutting off your view of your twin sister, oblivious to her importance to Bill and his cause.

You stand staring at the door intently, willing it to open, your concentration disturbed by Anders’ low voice. “When that door opens, I want weapons on everyone. Clarke Griffin is not to be harmed, and the Shepherd must be protected. All other occupants can be disposed of.”

The words bring your anxiety crashing back. Though your twin will be safe, the others are not, and you're not sure you can watch them being shot down. Even if it means blowing your cover, you're sure you’ll fight to save them. You don't have to worry for long, because within minutes the door beeps, indicating that it’s being opened, and all of you lift your arms in one swift motion, activating your weapons. You train them into the room, your eyes landing instantly on Clarke, who is standing in the same place, a gun now held to Bill’s head. You smile a little, hoping that maybe all of you will get off this planet after all, when Bill commands, “Weapons down, all of you.”

Without hesitating, you all disengage and lower your arms in tandem, and Anders takes a few steps into the room. Bill turns to look at him, his voice lower. “Send in their friends.”

Without turning around, Anders motions towards the four of you. The crowd parts around you, and Octavia nudges you ahead, into motion. You lead them into the room, standing in front, Octavia and Diyoza standing in a line behind you. Echo stands in the rear, directly behind you, the four of you forming a diamond shape. And as you walk towards Clarke, you take a deep pull of air and calm your breathing, because you know what’s coming. You’re about to take off your helmet and look at your sister as if she’s a stranger, likely breaking her heart in the process. In doing so, it’ll break your own.

You will have to resist every fiber of your being that wants to reach out to her, reassure her, let her know that it’s all a joke, because now isn't the time. It isn't safe. Despite Clarke’s control over Bill right now, a group of disciples is right behind you, ready to attack in an instant, putting all of you at risk. 

As you get closer, everyone is already looking at you in confusion, unsure of what’s going on. You come to a stop a few feet away from them, and Clarke shifts her and Bill closer. In tandem, the four of you reach up and tug off your helmets, moving them into your right arm before dropping your left arm by your side. You keep your jaw set, eyes and expression blank, removing any love or joy or excitement from them. Clarke stares at you in horror, her expression dropping, tears springing to her eyes. You have to glance away, sure that you'll break if you see her cry, your eyes casually raking over the others. They all look just as horrified, just as anxious as Clarke, staring at four people who were their friends and family less than a few days ago. 

None of them realize that you have spent years separated from them, scattered between two planets, forced to break the bonds that united you and made you human. Now, to them, you are machines. Uncaring, unfeeling, blank machines. 

And Clarke Griffin doesn't realize that her la lune is still inside of you, hidden behind this mask. 

She doesn't realize that a small metal moon hangs around your ankle, hidden from the eyes of the people of Bardo, the charm brushing against a ring with a sapphire stone. She doesn't realize that the eyes that are blankly staring at her are hiding a storm of emotions that have cried countless tears for her. She doesn't realize that you have spent months, years, trying to figure out how to get back to her. That you have had to sacrifice and bear so much, and that you understand how heavy her leadership has weighed on her. She doesn't realize the loss you have experienced as you stand before her.

Because when you left her in Sanctum, you left her with Bellamy at your side. 

And now, as you return to her on Bardo, you return alone.

-

next chapter

[hedgiwithapen]

could I ask for more metakitties in Young Justice? Please and thanks!

It had originally been, like most strange ideas that somehow worked out, Gar’s suggestion to bring animals to the Taos Metahuman Youth Center. Gar had spent a tense afternoon calming a scared boy down in the form of a Forest-green Retriever and a handful of support animals had swiftly followed. Dogs trained to do different support or calming tasks, a chinchilla for those with allergies who still needed something soft and warm to cuddle, an enormous tank of brightly colored fish to watch… and of course, the cats. Ed had been glad for them all. His job was certainly easier, if not easy, with the extra help, and the response from the other staff and the teenagers had been very positive. The Flash--who was a scientist, apparently-- was even talking about working on better allergy meds that wouldn’t interfere with the metagene, and there was talk of Bruce Wayne funding a new outbuilding for a stable. Of all the critters that roamed the halls, though, Ed’s favorite was a kitten Virgil had dropped off personally. One of several cats that had popped out of a Zeta Tube with no record or indication of how or why, the gray tabby had become a fixture at the center as easily as her littermates had latched on to the team or the justice league itself. He’d named her Shark for her sleek fur, the way her triangular tail was nearly always raised, and her habit of gnawing on everything she could get her little mouth on. She was speckled and soft and loved to lurk in the halls, following the unsuspecting to ambush them and demand pets, snuggles, or shoes to chew on. While most of the animals stayed in the wing of the center they were supposed too, the cats wandered as freely as the Metahumans, and Shark most of all.

Ed enjoyed the days when his friends stopped by. It wasn’t often. Asami and Tye managed it a bit more often than Virgil or Jaime, who had a lot going on with the whole side-gig-as-superheroes thing. They still tried; the zeta tubes made it easier to stay connected than Ed had thought, when they’d first all gone separate ways. It was nice to share company and stories, and sometimes a few of the recovering teens joined them. At first, they’d mostly stared, a little in awe, but over time, things had become more comfortable. Ed liked watching his charges realize that this could be their future-- healing, peace, friendship. The temperature dipped at night, though not much. Ed couldn’t sleep, as he often couldn’t. So he stretched and went to walk the halls. He didn’t have to walk anywhere, but he liked it. It was nice to see everything familiar. Turning the corner into the hall near the media room, Ed heard the explosion and kicked into emergency mode. He couldn’t see any sign of major fire, which should have been a good thing, except that it meant that whatever had happened had not just been another incident in the kitchens with an aerosol can of butterspray and the new pyrokinetic. One of the therapy dogs barked, urgent. The “clients”--the children and teenagers living in the dorms at the center-- ran, in pairs and small groups, to designated safe areas. One of the first things Ed’s dad had insisted on were protocols like that, and Ed had needed no convincing. He teleported through the rooms, clearing more frightened teenagers out. Satisfied that his friends and the other staff were on high alert, he headed for the panic room that was his responsibility to check. Every hall in the center had one, and everyone was well aware of them. His was the furthest from the zeta. His heart dropped as he popped in, and saw the door blown off the hinges. Half a dozen of his charges had made it here, some with power suppressing bracelets, some without. But all of them were up against the back wall, either unconscious or collared. Ed tensed and ducked the second he realized, avoiding the blow an attacker aimed at his head. He teleported again to put himself beside the cornered teens. Getting them out of danger, and fast, was top priority. The moment he materialized he had to call the golden glow up again, dodging left. This time when his feet met the floor, he was no sooner solidly there than something cold and heavy pressed against his neck. He called himself ten kinds of stupid, teleporting right into a planned ambush, right into the inhibitor collar. Ed scrambled backwards, eyes wide as he recognized the lone figure. Only one man might have been easy enough to fight, powers or no, but this was… not great. He wore a split color helmet, matte black and copper-orange, and held a sword in one hand that shone in the dim emergency lighting. Deathstroke. Slade. Ed wasn’t a member of the team, but he didn’t have his head in the sand, either. “You can’t have them,” he said, anger turning bravery bolder. He wasn’t about to let anyone cage those kids again--cage him again. “I’m not interested in you,” Slade said. “Move.” That made grim sense, because what meta trafficker wants to try figuring out how to hold on to a teleporter? Ed set his stance, gritting his teeth. He couldn’t win a fight like this, not without his powers, but stalling? He could stall, and buy his friends a few minutes to figure it all out. Jaime would be scanning everything, Tye could tear the place apart if he needed to, and Asami… Asami was scary-good at getting wherever it was she needed to be, no matter the obstacles. Slade moved forwards, raising the sword, and was met by a hiss. Shark’s grey mackerel markings had helped her blend in with the weak shadows. All her fur stood out on end, her ears pinned back, and she hissed again. Slade glanced down and sent her flying with a kick. One of the younger metahumans behind him whimpered. Ed’s gaze went harder than granite. “You’re going to regret that,” he said, his voice low. “I am not a man who

regrets my actions. Now move, or I’ll make you.” “You’ll regret that,” Ed repeated. “Why? Because I kicked a kitten?” Slade mocked. “I’m going to gut you and finish what was started with them weeks ago. You think I care about the morality of--oh holy shit, what the fuck--!” Shark had latched on just above his knee, her small teeth puncturing the material of his suit. She vibrated with something half growl, half purr, and all too large for her body. Blood dripped off the ends of her whiskers, and she let go only to bite again. And again. Slade, overcome by pain, bloodloss, and the shock of having suddenly less leg than he was accustomed to, hit the ground. Shark’s eyes glowed in the low light, and with her fluffy tail held high, she beelined for Ed, twining around his ankles and flopping over to request a belly scritch. He complied with shaking fingers.

[yodamn]

Comfort

This is something I just thought up, enjoy!

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

Thank God for your parents. Them having other children after you gave you the perfect amount of experience to handle the situation you were in. Your younger brothers, specifically, have helped you unknowingly.

There in front of you stands a Clone. But not just any clone. Marshal. Commander. Cody. THE Marshal Commander Cody. You aren't one of his brothers, you're just an officer delegated to Communications and occasionally getting one very finicky control console to work who, despite not being sentient, only works for you. Thanks Dad for teaching me some of your Mechanical Know-How. But anyway...

Marshal Commander Cody. SIC to General Master Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi. A highly skilled man. Trained to be able to take droids, or people, down extremely easily. Even though some people look down on clones not ONE person can say something bad about Cody in front of his face. Hes intimidating. He commands respect from COUNTLESS clones and he.

Hes got the same look your little brother gets after a really bad day at school.

Eyes glazed with just enough water to seem wet but not to the point of tears, blank stare through time and space. His posture isnt different but he probably is used to having to hide in his helmet. The ever so slight quiver of his bottom lip, most people wouldnt even notice. But you do. You always do. Its the exact same expression. And you can read it like a book. That faces says that he really just wants to be hugged tight and told its gonna be okay and go to sleep but hes not gonna ask for it. Hes hiding it well but youre used to seeing the signs. Sometimes your little brother, Gil, doesnt know how to ask when he needs help. He pushes people away. And your parents do their best, but they've got four other kids and their jobs, they don't catch everything. So then it becomes big sister to the rescue. Who had the time, patience, and energy to help.

And it seems like noone else notices whats happening to the Marshal Commander. You pay attention to the briefing of course but also keeping an eye on Cody. After the briefing youre just close enough to hear Cody dismiss himself as well, saying that he needed to get some work done. At that the plan is set into action. First stop? The Officer Lounge. You grab a cup of caf and put a lid on it. You stop by the officer barracks and grab the nice blanket your mom sent in a care package and swiftly continue towards the Clone Barracks.

There are horror stories told about the Clone Barracks by officers. That they'll eat you alive. That once a new recruit wandered in and was never seen again. Stupid things. But that doesnt mean walking into a hallway of barracks where you really stick out isnt scary. Their gazes are burning into you at all angles, curiosity, confusion, the occasional glare. You finally found the Commanders door. Looking both way you knock first. No answer. You know hes in there because the light of the pad beside you is on. Indicating someone is inside. You knock twice more with the same result. A sigh leaves your lips and you weigh your options.

Open the door yourself and possibly get yelled at. Potentially invade his privacy. Or leave and forget any of this happened. The second option seems more appealing. But then you remember why you came. Seeing his face in your memory. The look of pain in his eyes. Seeing your little brother in him, despite the commander being three times his size and much more intimidating than your dorky little brother. Taking a deep breath to steele yourself you gently and slowly open the door. Hes sitting on his bed. Head in his hands. In the dark. Just like Gil. And a gruff voice calls out.

"What do you want"

"Commander Cody?"

Apparently not the voice he was expecting because his head shot up.

"Can I help you? Is there something you need? I'm sure that-" you cut him off with a wave of your hand.

"No! No I dont need anything, its just," you sighed, no going back, "At the briefing today you seemed a little off, I thought you might need a little pick me up?" You offered with the still hot caf held out to him.

"I brought you some caf, and my extra blanket, its weighted and it always helps me so if you wanna borrow it..." You trailed looking away and then back to see him still staring at you.

"But! Thats-thats only if you want to, you dont have to I just, it helps me and I wanted to..." you stuttered and rambled while flailing your own free hand around.

"Thank you"

You stopped and stared at the man. The look was back. And oh how it hurt.

"I-Thank you, that's very thoughtful" Cody furrowed his eyebrows and scratched the back of his head. You extended the caf to him again, he took it and just held it in his hands.

"How-how did you know? How could you tell?" He asked, oh so softly. Running a hand down your cheek you gesture to the bed next to him and he nods and scoots over.

"Uh, well" you start and sit on the cot, you place the blanket down next to him and think back to Gil, "I'm the oldest of 5 kids in my family, and my parents try their best. But they dont always catch everything, what with having five kids and my mom and dad own a business and other family issues" you explain.

"Sometimes I step in to help, I dont have to. But I care, and they are important to me", you smile thinking about your younger siblings. Your parents were always so adamant about you not having to help. But at one point your grandfather got sick, had to come live with you. You wanted to step in to alleviate the stress. You lean back against the metal walls and looked at Cody.

"And you, sir", knocking your hand against the plastoid of his armored arm you shift to fully face him, "You had the same face that my little brother makes when hes had a really tough day and just wants to talk about it"

Cody chuckled taking a sip from the caf.

"Sorry if its not all that good, its just the caf they supply officers and I also dont know how you like your caf so..."

"No, no its fine, thank you" he whispers, he's so tired. You can see it in the way his eyelids flutter. "I can't really talk about what I do, it's confidential" hes slouching where he sits, soon you can see his head slightly bopping up and down. Resisting the pull of sleep.

"That's fine, you dont have to" you reassure patting him on the arm, you lightly rub your thumb in the crease between the armor and his blacks.

"Can you tell me about yourself then? Whats your favorite caf? Do you like bolo-ball?" You ask quietly, you move to sit in front of him on the floor. By slowly lowering your voice you should be able to get Cody to relax and fall asleep, it works for your. The big commander humms and slowly explains that he likes his caf with sugar but never can find any so he drinks it black mostly. He, like most of the clones, are loyal to the Corosaunt team. His voice getting softer and softer with yours as he went on. You hummed sweetly and looked at his armor. That can't be comfortable to sleep in.

Tapping your finger on his knee plate, and unfortunately reeling him back out of the sweet embrace of sleep. You ask if you can remove his armor, following that you didn't have to if he didn't want you to . Cody nods drowsily and croaks a yes out. You perch on your knees and begin to fumble with his leg armor.

"Please Cody, tell me more about Waxer and Boil" you prod gently while slipping your fingers into the magnetic locks. You had a nurse friend who had often had to remove armor from the clones due to them being unconscious. He had complained about how sometimes the locks would stick and explained how to get them unstuck. Not that you needed to know at the time, but it was useful right now.

Cody rambled on about Waxer and Boil and how sometimes Obi Wan would loose his lightsaber in battle.

He pouted, "Its rich because he always, always says 'The lightsaber is your life' to Skywalker..."

You giggle and stand up, he sighs and goes to lay back on the bed. Drunk in exhaustion. You had removed most of his armor, him removing things you couldn't.

He inhales and looks back at you, having sat back down next to the head of the bed. Cody lets out a sigh and continues to ramble, at this point his words are getting mixed up and jumbled. He had begun to explain how he got upset at all the paperwork he had to do and battle plans to make and military personnel to kiss up to, but you stopped him.

"Thats confidential remember?" You whispered, brushing a stray hair away.

"Thas right, you" he clumsily pointed up to you, "youre a good person"

Smiling you grab his hand and bring it to lay on his chest, "Thank you Cody, so are you" you softly pet his hand.

He turns onto his side and ever so slowly you see him slip into a peaceful sleep. You stand and lightly laid your blanket over him. It was muscle memory. Remembering all the times your parents had to work late or were focused on helping a sibling or relative that was sick and you had to put the others to bed. You tucked Cody in and gingerly lifting his head to move his pillow under him. After making sure he was covered you laid a kiss on his temple. Youre eyes snapped open and you tensed your back.

Why did I do that? You looked down at the man and he was still peacefully sleeping. Shaking your head you sighed, stupid muscle memory. You moved the cup of cold caf further on the nightstand next to his bed just incase her flailed an arm and he knocked it over. You brushed hair from his eyes once more before moving towards the door. Opening the door just enough for you to slip thru you turn down the lights and leave, shutting the door on your way out. Turning you bump into Obi Wan.

"Oh! Im so sorry General" You quietly stutter before moving past him.

"Oh please, I shouldnt have snuck up on you" he assures, "I must say thank you though, I noticed what you did"

Flushing you nod and continue out of the barracks.

The next day you wake up and go through all your duties. You had to make the control console work three times because it decided today wasnt a good day. Some shiny bumped into you in the mess, spilling all your food over you. You had assured him it was fine. All of your clothes were dirty so you had to continue the day with slightly gravy soaked clothes. Over all the day wasnt very good, and you just wanted to go to sleep.

You walk into the Officer barracks stripping down your uniform and tossing it. You washed all of the sticky feeling off of you, changed, and went to just pass out. Once you reached your bunk you see a piping hot caf on the nightstand and her blanket folded on her bed. Laying neatly on the blanket was a card. Opening it showed a simple message.

'Thank you, if you ever need anything dont hesitate to let me know

- Marshall Commander Cody'

You smile and curl up on your bed with the caf and your blanket. You can tell this is the begining of a beautiful friendship.

[heartsofbeskar]

from the ashes

chapter six | read on AO3

din djarin x oc

WARNINGS: violence, swearing

WORDS: 3.2K

EXCERPT: He extended his other arm to her. Stepping as close as she could, she wrapped an arm tightly around his shoulders. The arm he had held out to her now circled her waist, pulling her even closer. She could feel every curve and edge of his armour through her clothes. His helmet turned towards her.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

PREV | NEXT

Ten couldn’t think of a better sound than the Ursa’s engines finally running again. Decidedly less strained than before, she thought. Though that may have just been wishful thinking.

They’d been sequestered on the asteroid for the better part of two standard weeks. The time they’d lost was valuable, but nothing compared to the time they’d lose if the Ursa bailed on them mid-flight.

On the surface, spending time with the Mandalorian was not too much different than spending time alone. He barely spoke unless he was spoken to, and moved around like a ghost, despite the heavy armour. But there was something … imposing about the man. Not threatening, but Ten could feel his presence in a room, sometimes even feel his eyes on her. It wholly unsettled her— not that she’d let him know that.

Much — well actually all — of their conversation in the recent days had centered around where the hell to go next. It was obvious an Imperial conspirator had inside knowledge of the job and that Ten and Mando were the ones working it. They had a list of contacts from Greef Karga who may have information; to seek out those contacts now would surely be suicide, for everyone involved.

“You feel sure about Ronhar Kraz?” Ten asked. The armoured man sat to her right nodded slowly. Kraz was a businessman who specialized in textiles and linen trade between the core and the Outer Rim. Seemingly benign, but he used those same textiles and linen to smuggle weapons during the days of the Empire. For both sides.

“It feels too obvious,” she mused. “Former weapons smuggler turned Imperial double agent. Why even attach your name onto this if so many people in the Outer Rim know you worked with the Empire?”

“You’re assuming a level of intelligence and foresight I don’t often attribute to Imps,” he said.

“That’s the mindset that gets you fucked over eventually,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Is that what happened to you?”

Ten turned her head sharply, glaring at him. “You should watch that metal mouth or I’ll find something that will bend beskar.”

She heard a short breathy noise she’d come to known as a laugh processed through his modulator.

They’d almost passed through the outer boundary of the asteroid field, so she focused on steering through the last of the rocks. An itch had settled under her skin in the past few days, an urge to go, go, go, escape the confines of this belt they’d found themselves unexpectedly marooned within. As much as she still dreaded getting tangled up in Empire business, she felt that coursing of adrenaline in her veins that had been escaping her for many months now. That thrill of her life being put on the line of her own volition.

That adrenaline spiked again as they were fired on.

—

“Shit!” Ten cursed, the ship veering sharply upon impact. Din reacted on instinct, seat spinning towards the weapons controls he’d made a point of committing to memory. “They must have followed our ion trail to the edge of the belt. Have the fuckers just been waiting here the whole time?”

Another hit struck them, almost sending Din flying into the viewport. As he lurched, his gaze locked on the ships in front of them, before Ten steered them quickly away in an evasive maneuver. The ships pursued. He wasn’t surprised he recognized the ships, but he was surprised that—

“Those are New Republic ships. That’ll be why we weren’t vapourized on sight.” He paused as he attempted to target lock the ships still following close behind. There were too many asteroids lingering in the belt’s gravitational pull for them to jump to hyperspace. He needed to buy time. “Are you wanted?”

Ten didn’t look at him as she pushed their speed, but he could somehow feel her rolling her eyes at him. “No, I’m not an idiot. Even if I was, the Ursa’s totally off register, there’s no way—”

“Torpedo approaching lower left engine exhaust,” he interrupted. Cursing again, she took them as far right as possible — and right towards a large asteroid. Din braced, but she slowed their speed enough to whip them quickly around its circumference. He had to admit she was an impressive pilot.

“Are you wanted?”

“...Yes.”

“Now why am I not surprised by—”

She was cut off by the incoming communication alarm. They exchanged glances before Ten reached forward and set off the acceptance switch.

“Unidentified vessel,” came the drone of a New Republic officer. “Cut your engines immediately and prepare for boarding.”

“And why the hell should we do that?” Ten snapped, taking them through a narrow gap between asteroids. Din rolled his eyes now beneath the helmet.

“You are wanted for the murder of Jula Lars. Cut your engines immediately and prepare to be taken into custody. Failure to comply can result in—”

Ten slammed her hand down on the controls and cut off the channel. Din noticed her other hand tightening on the steering gears, knuckles going white. The scars he knew to be there were barely visible.

“Those fuckers … do you have a target lock on the ships? I’m going to blast them from the fucking sky,” she snapped.

As lightly as he dared, Din placed a hand on her arm that was closest to him. “They’re only doing their job. Obviously the Imps put them on our tail. No one else knew we were there.”

“Oh and you’re now the sudden pacifist?” she turned her head to glare at him. It felt like ice began flowing through his veins.

“We don’t need to help create more victims to the Empire,” he said lowly. Something flashed in her eyes. She kept eye contact with him for as long as she dared before turning forward to continue steering.

“Fine,” was all she said. A pause. More shots volleying around them, missing the ship as it weaved. “Then we need to go to hyperspace. Now.”

“There’s still too many asteroids we could—”

“Then I guess you’re just going to have to trust me, Mandalorian,” she said, and she was already engaging, then ramping their speed and then— rocks flew past them as superliminal speeds as they were catapulted into hyperspace. Din held his breath the entire time, certain they were headed straight for a rock which, at these speeds, would vapourize them for sure.

He let it go when he realized they were clear. Looking beside him, he saw Ten staring at him, her scarred eyebrow raised. “I told you to trust me.”

He scoffed, still feeling on edge. “Set the course for Leotis IV.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

—

Ten landed the Ursa as discreetly as she could, a few kilometres out from the Kraz estate. Thankfully it didn’t seem the New Republic had any insight on where they were going, only where they had been. But there was no guessing how long that would last.

Mando was in the hold, already securing his blaster into his belt. She recognized a couple other models and … something that didn’t look like a blaster at all. Before she could get a longer look his cloak fell over it.

“Kraz’s estate only has minimum security in place. Security cameras, only two from the back, no motion sensors,” she said, opening up the weapons compartment.

“How do you know all this?” Mando asked, entering her field of view. She looked up from where she was sheathing throwing knives. She shrugged at him.

“You hunt people, I hunt information. It’s my business to know my way around prominent figure’s properties.” Reaching up, Ten finally grabbed her blaster from the top shelf it sat on. She knew she could very likely do this without it, but it would probably appease Mando.

“If he is working with the Empire, he may have increased his security since your latest information,” he noted. She nodded as she hung her own cloak around her shoulders.

“At least then it would make for a challenge,” she said, nodding her head towards the door.

They closed the distance from the Ursa on foot so as not to be seen by anyone on the grounds. The tree cover was just enough to hide it from view overhead. Mando seemed to want to take the walk in their usual state of silence, and Ten didn’t complain.

As they walked, Ten admired the foliage that seemed to grow at mostly knee height on this planet. It bloomed undisturbed in the gaps left by the trees, enjoying the unrestricted sunlight. The rays seemed to bounce off the petals which appeared in every colour.

It made her think of Yaim. The trees there had been much denser, and wider. But the air seemed to vibrate in the same way, the wind so delicate Ten could almost close her eyes and imagine it was tender fingers on her cheek.

She reached out, as she would always do when she was a girl, and felt that unwavering presence, its weight bearing down on her bones and her soul alike. But … less heavy than usual, which surprised her.

Finally, they reached the wall which indicated the edge of the property, It wasn’t high, maybe four or five metres by Ten’s estimation. The surface was uneven, and she grabbed a hold of the texture, testing it.

“This should work. If we can scale to the—” She was cut off by a sharp whizzing noise beside her. As she examined the grappling hook connected to his vambrace, she was absolutely sure he was smirking beneath the helmet. “Or we could do it that way.”

He extended his other arm to her. Stepping as close as she could, she wrapped an arm tightly around his shoulders. The arm he had held out to her now circled her waist, pulling her even closer. She could feel every curve and edge of his armour through her clothes. His helmet turned towards her.

“Hold on tight,” was all he said, and then they were rapidly ascending up, up, past the rough stones in the wall, until Mando swung them onto the top, which was thankfully flat. “You can let go now.”

“Right,” she breathed. Shaking her head, she turned towards the building now filling their view. As she’d planned, the route to the wall had taken them close to the back corner of the property. If her information was current, Kraz only had cameras facing his back and front entrances. “You’ve got a scope on that pulse rifle, right? Can you see the cameras on the back wall?”

Swinging the rifle around to rest on his shoulder, he wordlessly aimed at the building. Ten studied his stance from the corner of her eye. His feet were heavy, planted shoulder width apart. He didn’t sway as the wind picked up, a solid beskar statue in the foreign landscape.

Suddenly he fired once, then twice. Ten flinched at the unexpected noise. Finally, he spoke. “The cameras are taken care of.”

“A little warning next time?” Before he could respond, she flung herself from the wall. She braced herself on her hands as she landed, Mando dropping beside her a moment later. She held up a hand.

After a few beats of silence, she nodded at him. “Seems like they haven’t upgraded security after all,” she noted, moving towards the back entrance. As they got closer, she saw that the cameras were indeed demolished by the shots.

“Don’t suppose you know the interior blueprints as well?” Mando asked at her left shoulder.

“No,” she shook her head. “Those are usually harder to get a hold of. But I have been hired by many men like Kraz. They like to keep their personal offices in the back of buildings, it makes them feel safer for some reason. See that window?”

She gestured directly above them, where the largest window on the back facade sat. It was also the only window inset with what appeared to be rare minerals.

“I agree,” Mando said before she could finish. “That’s a good place to start. After you.”

Ten examined the back entrance, gliding her hand along the smooth edges of the metal. The locking mechanism blinked orange gently, and she recognized an optical scanner. But beneath that … a keyboard override, hidden under an unlocked panel. Perfect.

Taking one of her daggers from her belt, she was able to tear off the cover of the keypad box with her hands. Ten held the dagger up. It was one of her favourites. The handle was nondescript, simple, fitted perfectly to her grip. Its blade was stronger than any other she owned, and she strongly suspected it had been mixed with beskar, though she couldn’t be sure. Maybe she would ask the Mandalorian.

She pried under the edge of the keypad, battling metal on metal, leveraging with all her strength. Finally, as she expected, her metal won, and the bottom edge of the keypad popped off with a satisfying crack. She cut every wire she found lying underneath, one by one until—

The door slid open with a whirr as the orange light went dark.

“Would’ve been faster to shoot it open,” said Mando.

“And set off every alarm they have in this place.” She strode past him into the building. The cement walls echoed her footsteps, but there was no other sound bouncing off them. The overhead lights flickered slowly.

The hallway branched into a T shortly ahead of them, and her and Mando took to a side of the wall. Nodding, they inched over the corner, blasters drawn. Ten found a long corridor on her side, ending in a window. There were no doors. She spoke first, in a low tone.

“All clear here.”

“Here too.”

Relaxing marginally, she turned. The other direction appeared much the same, with another doorless hallway. Ten shrugged.

“Your choice is as good as mine.”

Mando wordlessly started down the hall to the right. She followed, pulling her hood over her head as she did. She ran her hand lightly along the wall. It was cold to the touch. She tightened her grip on her blaster.

A stairway emerged at the end of the hallway, and they followed silently. The next level was similar to the first, though featured more hallways going deeper into the building and an occasional linen draped on the wall. Finally, they came to a wide door, inlaid with the same mineral as the exterior window.

It was empty inside. A large wooden desk occupied much of the room, facing towards the ornate window. The sunlight streamed in freely, casting multicoloured shapes over the room. It reflected off Mando’s beskar as he approached the computer terminal on the desk.

“The communications log should give us enough information on whether he’s working with the Empire.” He called up a projected screen, gloved fingers running over the controls. “Should be … here. Most people don’t even restrict access. We can download it to look at on the ship.”

Ten nodded. She moved towards the window. Closer to it, she could see the small bubbles enclosed in the inlays. It felt rough. She wasn’t sure why she was so drawn to touch today, but it felt as if a live wire had been inserted beneath her skin, the smallest of currents lighting her nerves.

“Done,” came Mando’s modulated tone, pulling her attention. “We should go—”

Before he could finish, the latch clicked in the door. They both watched, unable to do anything, as the handle turned and the door opened fully.

A human man stood there, looking down at his holopad at first. Mando raised his blaster slowly. By the time the man looked up, it was directly in front of his face, and his eyes widened as he took the two of them in.

“W-who the hell are you?” he asked shakily. “You shouldn’t be in here, I …”

“We’re going to walk out of here,” Mando said calmly. “There’s no reason to panic. You’re going to stay in this office for five minutes, and then go about your day. Got it?”

The man’s eyes darted rapidly back and forth between them. Ten tried to soften her eyes, to urge him to listen. She wasn’t sure it worked.

Faster than either of them could react, he screamed out, tripping backwards over himself out of the office. Mando fired down into his leg and he collapsed, screaming more, but it was too late, the damage had been done.

As they sprinted out and away from the office, Ten could already hear the sound of boots echoing off the walls. They’d almost reached the stairs when a group of armed security burst out of a hallway in front of them. It was six on two and damn if Ten didn’t like those odds.

Blaster fire broke out almost immediately. Just as quickly, Ten lost track of Mando in the shuffle, but it didn’t matter.

She shot at the two men in front of her, electing for quantity over quality in her aim. She managed to hit one somewhere in the torso and he crumpled to the ground. After a number of other shots she hit the next man in the shoulder, which worked to her advantage. He dropped his blaster with a shout, but stayed on his feet.

Ten pulled two of the small knives from her belt. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she aimed before whipping it forehead. It spun in the air before hitting its mark, buried inside the man’s neck. He sputtered as he fell to his knees, then onto his face.

Spinning around, she saw Mando taking down a fifth officer behind her, two others already on the ground. She counted quickly.

“Where’s the sixth one?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Mando grunted, dropping the officer to the ground. He raced toward the stairs and she followed.

It appeared they were mostly in the clear, the branch off to the door just ahead of them. Ten led ahead, turning the corner first.

She was met with a blaster pressed to her forehead. It was the sixth officer, her hands shaking as she pressed the barrel harder into the skin.

Ten couldn’t even consciously control her response. It didn’t matter that Mando stood just behind her.

Her hand reached up in front of her, gripping seemingly around nothing, pushing forward. She pulled on the invisible field which was always with her, calling on it. Slowly the barrel of the blaster moved away and so too did the officer, beginning to cough and sputter as her windpipe closed. Ten panted, squeezing tighter and higher, and now the officer was a good three metres in front of her, feet lifting off the ground, eyes rolling into her head. With a grunt, she quickly jerked her arm to the side, sending the officer flying into the wall. The crumpled figure on the ground didn’t move.

“You just …” came Mando’s voice behind her. She turned to look back at him. “You’re a Jedi.”

“We don’t have time for this but let’s get one thing straight. I am not a Jedi.”

[writing-gifts]

crewmate!bruno x imposter!reader

<< part 2 || part 4 >>

------

You

You stare at yourself in the mirror.

Your skin.

Your eyes.

Your teeth.

Yours but not you.

In the beginning you hated it. It felt wrong and uncomfortable. But now it was almost like a sweater; a little too tight and maybe not the appropriate attire for the weather, but mostly tolerable. Keeping it on the whole time was definitely irritating, but you did it even if you were wearing your space suit. You couldn't afford any accidents, especially with Black’s suspicions.

He had not raised any concerns with the rest of the crew from what you could tell, but the way his body would become rigid and his heart sped up just slightly around you said it all.

A bell sounds in your room indicating someone is at your door. For a second you wonder who is visiting this late but know it can only be one person.

"Hello," you greet White after the door slides open.

Suits and helmets weren't necessary in the dormitory so you can see his face and the neutral expression he adorns. "I just wanted to check on you."

"Check on me?"

"A lot happened yesterday and I wanted to see how you're doing now since you were quiet the whole day."

You shrug. Earlier today, the crew had a meeting discussing what had happened the day before and if anyone had clues. You knew you were the odd one out as everyone else (other than Brown who you killed first) seemed to know each other, one way or another, before getting on this ship so you mostly kept to yourself. But for some reason White was always intent on making sure you weren't left out.

The realization that you can use this to your advantage hits you hard and fast.

"Well…"

You cross your arms and White waits patiently for you to finish.

"This situation is--I guess I'm having trouble processing it. But I'm sure everyone's still upset so you don't need to focus so much on me..." your sentence trails off.

"I know." White is quiet for a moment before his expression seems to harden. "Staying with me and Abbacchio will be safer."

He sounds completely certain and you assume he's trying to console you so you return an unsure smile.

It definitely was safer but not in the way White thought. It had only been one day but having White and Black constantly around kept you from even thinking about murder.

This was going to make things difficult.

-----

There was no denying it. Your recent kill was very suspicious. It was risky but you went ahead with it and as a result it ended up sloppy. It took way longer than you wanted to actually get it done too with White and Black slowing you down. Straying from them was impossible.

Things like this made you wish you weren't sent out to take out entire crews by yourself.

Either way, the monotonous days ticking by without anything happening other than completing tasks and spending an increasing amount of time with White might have gotten to you. So you took the risk.

You first had to convince your little group to let you go with Lime so he could help you understand the samples in Medbay. He seemed to be the smartest academically on the crew so you needed him to explain to you. And fortunately he had agreed.

This was the first time he had willingly talked to you since Orange died. You're sure he blamed you for his death (and part of you had been ready to come up with a new plan), but maybe this was a way for him to try to move on.

Lime did his best to explain to you. Even if at times he got a little too technical, you could tell he had a thorough understanding that many his age (and older) could only wish to have. It's almost sad that you threw it away.

You toss your helmet to the side unbothered by the low oxygen levels. And once you pull off your red gloves, you allow the shape of your fingers to become sharper. More dangerous.

This was the thing you were least excited about but it was necessary.

------

<< part 2 || part 4 >>

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “A Little Light.”

Guys, I am releasing a new alien species! I am super excited about this, and I will explain at the end because there is an awesome story behind this. I hope you like it, it was a strange style to write in, and I ended up confusing myself on more than one occasion.

The genesis of these guys is actually super cool, or I thought so.

The world around him was white, a white blinding haze that seared his eyes and burrowed into his brain so profoundly it made his ears ring, not a quiet ringing, but a loud almost ear splitting ringing that burrowed into his head and drilled through the small bones in his middle ear. Aside from the ringing there was only silence accept for his own ragged breathing gasping that, made the space around him humid despite his visor’s inability to fog.

He stumbled over his own feet, for it had to be his feet since the ground about his was completely flat, A dessert of salt stretching for miles in all directions, pure white against the roaring power of the blue-white star, a star so bright even the sky had been bleached white. He tried to open his eyes, tried to find where he was going but was immediately blinded. He tried to scramble for the visor on his helmet but found there to be none there, snapped off.

He stumbled again, this time falling to his knees on the vast white nothingness.

He could feel the crunch through his gloves and boots, rattling up through his knees, but it was as if he stared down at his own body white against paper, in a ceaseless void filled with not but light. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried for the comm again.

“Harben- harbinger, this is…. This is Commander Vir… I, my ship…. Was malfunctioned. I Have fallen and…. I can’t eyes… help, send please….. Think I may have been…. Damaged.” More light, blinding him driving into his skull like screws being driven in with a power tool. He lifted his hands to his ears as the light grew stronger bringing the ringing to a crescendo.

He fell backwards barely feeling his body hit the ground, knowing that something had happened only for the slight vibration through his body, like the slamming of a door seen only in the ripples on a glass of water. Light bombarded him from above the ringing grew louder. His hands fell to his sides as he fell, mercifully into blackness. 

***

There was a disturbance, they had sensed it some time ago, a distant disturbance in the distant sky. They did not see it, but felt it. Waves of sight, particles of distortion washing over them. They do not sense the light that beats down from above, only the infrared radiation of their distant star which sustains them. Besides that, the landscape is flat blackess warmed occasionally in spots of unfathomable color by the heat of their star. They can sense it like they sense particles of radio light given off by their brethren. Light is their survival, light is their spawn and their life. They sense everything, and with their light comes a great euphoria. They love light.

They float now, great billowing sails propelling them in silent, slow-motion arcs over the landscape. Below them their great flexible appendages wave and quiver, two long in the front, and a hundred shorter trailing in the back. They float, though it seems as if they swim, cutting through the light the way a sting-ray cuts through the water. They are silent, ethereal, and somewhat strange. They do not move quickly for they see no need simply floating through the white, surrounded by light and the rolling waves of radio chatter from their companions.

With the radio waves gone.

They are silent, though their world is not.

It startles them, when it appears on the horizon, a spot of light under the glorious rays of their star. It does not belong there, for, even though the ground is bright, this thing is brighter. They approach on trailing ribbons of their own limbs gracefully floating, floating, floating. They make it eventually, towards the bright spot.

It sheds light and heat, though it is covered by darkness.

The shape is not something they have seen before, it is alien and unknowable. Behind it, it leaves traces of it’s path, back in the direction of the disturbance. It does not fit on this landscape, it does not belong here. It tracks pieces of itself behind it.

It is living.

That much they know for sure.

They know it is not from here.

With their sense of light they look on. The creature loses light in great swaths, it is bright, not as bright as their star, but very bright, though it’s brightness is fading.

It is a sin to let anything that is bright die.

***

He awoke when he felt himself moving, felt the rattling in his feet as they jostled and crunched over salt scraping and covering the sound of the ringing in his ears. He was seeing double, the world around him was  still so bright. It thunders down on him in great rays of pain. He tried to move, but he found that he couldn’t. His head spun and rotated, or at least it seemed that way. He tried to open his eyes, but the light hurt. It cut into his soul until he could no longer feel but for the pain. His eyes closed, but the searing light still cut through burning him replacing the whiteness with the cherry red of his own blood.

A shadow fell over him. He could sense it with the passing of pain and opened his eyes. He could not comprehend what he was seeing, a towering shadow, a monolith slowly swaying back and forth, back and forth bringing the sun into view, and then cutting it off a moment later. Ribbons, or tedrals wave about him, there are thousands of them. He can’t make them into shapes, can't determine what they are or what they mean.

Has he died?

***

What is it?

They aren’t entirely sure.

What does it want?

Probably to live, but then again it was perishing, so maybe it didn’t.

Maybe they should leave it back out in the void, in the whiteness, on the planes of salt. 

That would be foolhardy though not to learn about something new. They knew everything there was to know here. Then again this thing was a thing they did not know, so it was only right that they should know. If they knew everything else.

Did they actually know everything?

It seemed so. They knew of the salt, and atmosphere. They knew of the chemical structures, and the atomic particles. They knew of the particles that acted as waves, they knew of their beloved light, and it’s tendency to behave similarly. They knew of gravity and quantum law and that they were on a sphere that simply orbited a large sphere of fire. They knew their light would be gone some day, and they knew when that day would be.

They were not worried.

They new a great many things, and this was a thing to know.

It was clear they needed to know more.

***

It Is a trick to learn about something that cannot be known, a trick to determine that which has no base of reference. The do not know this thing, this thing that lays before them warm and flickering with its pulsing light. It is a good light, warm and steeped in life. However, it is symmetrical two limbs for either side and a trunk in the middle, that is a start.

It does not float, that much is clear, behind it it left tracks in the salt, the shapes are oval in nature or somewhere between an oval and another shape, it matches the bottom of two of the appendages at the base. So it moves, somehow, on two appendages without floating. Touching it, for their tendrils are very sensitive to touch, they feel at its shell, or it has to be a shell because the shell does not give off its light. The light is from the inside, from behind a clear layer.

The shell has a structure, it is very uniform, nothing that comes from nature. They can make things like this, though they do not bother to do so, for what does that have to do with light? So this creature wears a fake shell, that seems reasonable. Looking through the clear layer, at it’s true shape, the creature is very….

Squishy? 

Yes that appears to be the correct term, though they cannot be sure. Perhaps it is not squishy and they are just misleading themselves based on appearances. But if it is not a shell for their squishiness, than what is the shell for? They can see it’s temperature, the warmth of the light can tell them that, and it seems as if it would be comfortable. The surrounding are only a little cooler than its body.

So if that is not the case, then what is it.

They look closer, for that is their desire, and the light helps them to see. They must use other types of light, they must use these lights to see inside, and inside they find the shell does other things too. The shell holds gas, a gas that surrounds the creature on the inside, for the creature on the inside is smaller than the shell on the outside.

They can test this gas, and that is where they find it.

It is a very strange mixture of gases, mostly nitrogen, but some oxygen and carbon. That may be a problem, for their planet is very high in oxygen.

Another group returns, the group that continued onwards to find the disturbance. They did not get close as they sensed a great heat from the thing that had fallen from the sky. 

Fire.

Fire was not good when your planet had much oxygen, and you floated with hydrogen on your insides.

It seemed as if the two things were connected.

Perhaps the thing came from the fire, or from the thing previous to the time when it was on fire? 

But that was assuming time was linear.

The thing’s light is fading, that is a bad sign.

It may be required for them to remove the shell. 

They need to figure out how to do it though, the creature has appendages on the top that it does not use for walking, and at the end of those appendages, it has tendrils like theirs only shorter and more rigid. It is small, so they can assume the thing uses those to do its tasks. 

They are right, they find the answer, for if you twist at some parts and pull, the thing comes off.

***

He woke up to the sound of frantic beeping. 

That was not a good sign, that was his atmospheric indicator determining that he had a suit breach. Despite the ringing in his ears, he knew enough to know that. He didn’t know where the light was still too bright and his body was still in pain. But then, he felt it…. Something cold against the skin of his hands.

He knew nothing should be cold since the inside of his gloves were very warm.

He tried to open his eyes, finding that, strange, there was shade, and though it was bright, he could finally see. Thinking was harder though considering the pain his was still in, the throbbing of his head the the diplopia that mirrored every image over itself.

He felt sick.

The suit continued to beep.

He heard the sound next, and knew what was coming. The soft scraping and snick just beside his neck. 

Air rushed over his face, the beeping grew louder. 

And then the world coalesced around him. To his sides it was bright, to bright to look, but above him it was less so, he could stare upwards now, and he wasn’t immediately dead, though his helmet was gone. 

Something had taken off his helmet.

Why had it taken him this long to realize it?

He turned his head trying to find the source of his imminent death, and stops 

This time, it does not take him long to register surprise.

***

They were right, and wrong, the creature was squishy, though no completely, and now it was moving responding to their touch.

It hadn’t died yet, so that was good, though it did not get up and move like it was supposed to.

They reachout touching at it, at it’s strange appendages at the end of it’s upper limbs, at the soft fibers atop it’s head, and the strange rubbery surface about the top which gave off a great amount of light.

It is silent as far as they can tell though it had many strange openings in its body that flexed and moved. It’s light is still fading. They use their light again to look and found something very strange, a symmetrical pattern of scaffolding that held up the squishy parts of the creature. This scaffold is generally open except for the one about the head which is closed. There is lots of heat there, and their light could see inwards, a building pressure.

That did ot seem normal for it is not symmetrical like it should be.

They could fix that.

They know how. Though, the creature has gone limp under their appendages, they still work. It is their duty to save all sources of light. It didn’t take them long to release the pressure, and once that is done the light grows back up pulsing more evenly. Their radio chatter is one of incandescent excitement. Merrily, they float about in circles basking in the light from outside pleased that this little glimmer of light is still here.

***

He woke up without a ringing in his ears this time, and the light from outside wasn’t so horrible on his eyes, though he still attempted to shade his vision. It was a struggle though, trying to remember where his limbs were and what they were doing. He was still having trouble comprehending his place in space and where all his appendages were.

Something caressed the side of his face.

He tilted his head down flinching back and the strange blue-tipped thendral pulled back away from him. At first he thought it was some sort of snake, and nearly panicked, but that didn’t seem right, so he followed the body of the tendral bak and upwards.

Still groggy, that didn’t stop his mouth from falling open in stunned amazement.

Stunned amazement as the alien creature floated over him.

***

The creature notices them now, they cannot tell how since it does not respond to their light, it is completely silent. They reach out with their tendrils feeling the creature, the fibers on its head, the soft outer covering. It pulls away from them at first hunkering bac against the ground, but as they continue, it seems to grow curious responding to their touch with touch of its own.

Its five protrusion appendages reach out trailing gently down their skin. 

They tremble with delight.

It continues to reach towards them with it’s strange appendage, and one of their number reaches out wrapping a tendril around the appendage searching and feeling at the structure underneath. The creature is gentle and does not pull away. THey like this creature, it makes light and though they cannot fathom or understand it, there is something about the way it touches them.

It seems curious, just like them.

Just like the did before, it wraps its own protrusions around their tendrils. It is warm giving off heat with it’s light. This close, it’s heat is like the face of the sun cold spots giving it distinct character as it plays with them, though something is wrong. It’s light isn’t working again…. Had they done something wrong.”

***

He was growing very dizzy, and the muscles in his face would not stop twitching. He gently unwinded a tentacle from his wrist careful not to spook the creature that floated over him. It was curious like you would expect an octopus to be, and it did remind him of one like some weird sort of elephant squid. It was large, maybe six feet in length from the bottom of it’s two long tentacles to the top of it’s ‘head’.

On either side of its body, there were two large flaps, which it slowly used to maneuver flopping back and forth as it floated. IT floated primarily with the help of some sort of sack on the back of its body, not dissimilar to the Vrul. It had four eyes in a diamond pattern towards the top of its head, though as far as he could tell it did not hear seeing as it had not reacted to his voice. 

Did he sense a sudden agitation in their numbers as they move in again beginning to prod at him with their tendrils once more.

One brushes itself down his face again, feeling at his head where, he had received somewhat of a knock during the crash. The dizziness was getting worse, as was the facial twitch.

He knew these signs, and desperately reached for the components of his suit, lying neatly beside him. The creatures pulled away floating about him in a wide circle.

He pulled a glove on and snapped it into place.

He turned to reach for the other finding one of the creatures had wrapped a tentacle around his other glove and was slowly reaching out towards him.

He took the offering gently and snapped the glove on.

He turned for his helmet, but had been beaten to it. With delicate movements slowed as if they moved through water, two of the creatures maneuvered the helmet over his head lowering it down and twisting it until it snapped in place.

Oxygen levels high, toxicity imminent, lowering oxygen output.

He took a deep breath. A tendril patted the outside of his helmet like an old granny pats the cheek of her grandchild.

He couldn't help but smile stroking his hand along the length of the tendril like he was petting a dog. 

***

The light has returned, they are pleased, though they worry as another disturbance breaks the atmosphere. It is bright, bright like a second star, but it is fire, and fire is dangerous, they pull back watching as the fire descends from the sky. They do not move though, the creature does not move, but they cannot be sure it sees the disturbance at all. Things died down, and then a group of small lights appear over the wasteland.

They move without floating leaving trails of light behind them.

They pull back as the things pull closer slowly moving towards them. It is as if they are communicating with each other though there can be no possible way for them to do so seeing as they do not make noise and the light they commit is a steady pulse. They emit light like the first and slowly approach in a group.

The creature is not alone.

There are more of them, and they descend from the sky to walk on the ground.

As they observe, the first creature reaches out to them like it had done before. They are hesitant, but they follow suit wrapping tendrils around the proffered appendage. It returns their touch with touch of it’s own, and the group of its friends follow.

Another holds out an appendage like the first, and though they are cautious, they give it over, and the creature is just as gentle and curious.

They like to think that the creatures are thanking them for helping one of their own, and sadly they have to watch the creature go, wobbling back across the salt to return to the sky from where it came.

They were not likely to understand the silent creature.

But they did appreciate its curiosity.

The little light that had come to visit them, before returning to the sky.

Like a star

-

So I found this in my things the other day, and it is an alien design for the first space orcs book idea I had that I ended up scrapping. They were designed specifically to be as different form humans as possible, unable to stand us in any way.

I completely forgot about them, but then if you look at the bottom of the page you can see what I named them, “The Kril” and then I realized that they are the inspiration for my character Krill, who like them, can float, is plant based, and can see in infrared .

Guys these crazy dudes are the inspiration for Krill!

I thought they deserved to be resurrected.

Now I just need a good name for them, Comment if you have any ideas :)

. 

[edie-k]

Legally Ginger (Chapter 2)

Title: Legally Ginger

Chapter 2/9

Rating: PG-13 (I use fuck more than the MPAA allows for PG-13 but that's a stupid rule - there's no explicit content)

Pairing: Romione endgame

Summary: When Ron Weasley's college girlfriend declines his proposal because he doesn't meet her standard for future husband, he decides comes up with a plan to let her see him in a new light.

Notes: This is an AU Muggle reimagination of Legally Blonde. It's very different than anything I have ever written - and my first chapter story. I intend to update each Monday - although I'm slightly early due to commitments tomorrow.

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter has a character making a joke about an incident of sexual harassment they were the victim of. This is a line directly from the movie and is bolded to indicate it's not my original dialogue. Unlike the movie, the conduct is identified as harassment.

Shout out to TheKillerTigerBunny’s recent fic for inspiring a scene in the admissions video.

Thanks to adnei again for her feedback!

Read at AO3 or click below for more

Ron mindlessly shoved his hand back into the bag of chips next to him on the bed as he stared at the TV in the corner.

He had spent all day Sunday trying to compose the perfect text. The magic words that would bring her back. He composed dozens of drafts. Some were apologetic - clearly he shouldn’t have sprung an engagement on her but that didn’t mean they had to break up! Some were logical - there was almost a full semester of school left that they could spend together and see where they stood at graduation. Some were just pathetic - begging and pleading her for a second chance.

Finally, he decided to keep it simple.

can we please talk?

She responded.

it’s too hard to talk. I love you but that doesn’t mean this can work I’m sorry

He didn’t respond further. In the end, he couldn’t figure out how to fix what was wrong with him. There was no clear way to make himself worthy of Astoria.

So when the alarm went off Monday morning, he hit snooze. Then he hit it again. And again. And then he just turned it off for the next four days, only emerging from his room in the middle of the night to raid the pantry for more supplies. Apart from a few supportive texts from his siblings and friends, he’d been mostly left to wallow. Which could only mean that news of his humiliation had spread across campus and people were keeping their distance. He appreciated it but had a hunch his brothers’ patience would soon wear thin.

As if on cue, the door flung open.

“All right, Ron,” said Fred, barging in the room. “It’s been a week. Time to emerge.”

“Uh,” grunted Ron. Pig trotted in happily and jumped up on the bed next to Ron.

Fred paused and looked at the TV. “My God, are you watching NBC Sports Network? You need to snap out of it.”

Ron shrugged. “Lost the remote two days ago.”

George poked his head in the room before entering. “God, it reeks in here. And it better be beer in that bottle by your nightstand. Thankfully, we brought reinforcements.”

“Hey bro,” said Ginny, popping into the room. “It’s time to seize the day!”

“No,” he said flatly to his sister.

“Come on, you don’t want to blow off your classes. You’ve worked too hard to have to graduate in the summer semester. You want the celebrity commencement speaker, not whatever ancient associate dean they con into putting on a robe in August,” Ginny appealed.

“I’ve been emailing my assignments. It’s fine.”

“Well, this isn’t fine. Come on! I know what always cheers you up,” Ginny wheedled.

“Ehm,” Ron grunted, turning over.

“Please!” begged Ginny. “I need to blow off steam too.”

“I’ll buy you cheese fries,” George suggested.

“My own order,” Ron said.

“Yes,” agreed George.

“And beer,” Ron added.

“Goes without saying!” said Fred, yanking the covers off of him. “Shower and we’re off!”

****************************

Forty minutes later, he was moping under the umbrella shaded patio table outside of the batting cages, Pig at his feet, picking at his fries while his beer warmed in the sunshine. Fred and George were taking cracks off the pitching machine with a couple of his frat brothers and members of Ginny’s sorority that had tagged along.

“Come on,” said Ginny. “You need to hit something.”

“I’ll take the next one,” Ron replied listlessly.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Girls, make him see reason,” she appealed to her sisters, who were seated next to him flipping through magazines. Ginny jogged off to join the others.

“Ron, Astoria is trash,” said Lavender.

“She is not!”

“She’s trash,” agreed Parvati. “Bougie trash.”

“I’m the one that’s clearly trash.”

“No, you’re a fucking straight up 9 and if I wasn’t in love with the moron taking 40 mile per hour softballs to the head - ” Lavender gestured at Seamus who was doing just that - “I would already be in your pants,” Lavender assured him.

“You’re a little too earnest for me, if I’m being honest,” said Parvati. “And you’re a dude, so no. But if you dated one of my friends, I wouldn’t tell her she could do better than you.”

“Yeah,” said Ron, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “Astoria, you should take me back. I’m not as good of a catch as a guy that tries to achieve CTE for fun but at least Parvati won’t shit talk me behind my back.”

The girls giggled. “Ron, I know it hurts that she didn’t feel the same about you but truly, you are better off. She was just flat out wrong. You’re smart, you’re accomplished, everyone likes you. She’s a snob looking for a certain name to hyphenate behind hers. Just like her sister,” Parvati insisted, pointing at the People magazine in front of her.

Ron peered over her shoulder. There was a color shot of Astoria’s sister Daphne, her hand ensconced in the hand of a dark haired man, walking the sidewalks of New York.

“Is that the Kennedy Taylor Swift dated?” asked Lavender. The two girls' voices faded in the background as he read and reread the caption.

Third year Princeton Law.

This is what Astoria was talking about. Her sister was dating some east coast prep school guy who went to a fancy university. In some ways, he got it. That need to live up to your siblings’ accomplishments or better yet, surpass them. He certainly felt it himself.

Bill, with his gorgeous French wife, was on the executive track at a financial firm. Charlie, with his easygoing personality, had somewhat accidentally launched a successful YouTube channel about his wildlife adventures in Asia. Percy, who had somehow managed to weather the civil servant storm and was on his third presidential administration at the IRS. Fred and George had their plans and Ginny knew she’d go early in the next National Women’s Soccer League draft if she didn’t opt to play soccer professionally overseas.

And Ron had had Astoria. The thought of a good life with a good job supporting an amazing and ambitious woman was exactly what he wanted. But she needed a little more. She needed someone that could prove they played at her level and bring a little flash and substance, like Daphne’s fiancé did.

He stared at the picture. Ron couldn’t get the Kennedy name. But he could wear a fucking rugby shirt and throw gel in his hair and...

“That’s it!” Ron shouted.

“What?” both girls asked, startled.

“I’m going to Harvard Law,” he announced.

Both girls stared. “Seamus, sweetie?” called Lavender. “Bring your batting helmet. He’s got some brain damage and we need to protect his skull from further harm.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Ha ha. So Astoria’s a little… materialistic and thinks about optics. Everyone Is flawed. And Lav, you said yourself that I’m a nine. How does law school, hell, Harvard Law School, not get me to a ten?”

“What’s going on?” asked Ginny. They’d abandoned the cages at Lavender’s call.

“I’m going to law school,” Ron announced proudly.

“Why?” asked George.

“Ron, no. You loved your internship. You have three job offers doing what you enjoy. This is fucking insane,” Fred insisted.

“You can’t give up free beer,” Seamus added.

“Maybe I’ll love law school,” Ron reasoned. “And if I don’t, I don’t have to finish. It’ll be enough to prove to Astoria I can get into Harvard - ”

“Harvard?” George asked.

“—And not embarrass her. The jobs I enjoyed have regulatory aspects to them so hey, a semester of law school can only help, right?”

“This is asinine,” Parvati said.

“Free beer,” whined Seamus.

“Holy shit,” cried Ginny, flashing her phone towards them. “Have you seen the cost of tuition?” She flashed it to George before Ron snatched the phone out of her hand.

“How the fuck are you going to pay for that?”

Ron cringed. “It’s not going to be my proudest moment. but I’ve got an idea.”

********************

“Hi, Auntie,” Ron said, as he followed the maid into the giant sitting room.

“Ronald,” Muriel greeted. They stood looking at each other awkwardly a moment. “Well, sit down. You,” she barked at the maid. “Bring us some drinks.”

“Right away, ma’am,” the maid scurried off.

Ron and his siblings came from fairly blue collar roots on both sides of the family. In fact, they were the first to attend college. The cost had made it out of reach for his mother and father to attend themselves. Mom’s brothers had planned to take advantage of the GI Bill but unfortunately were casualties of the first Gulf War. After that, Muriel had set up education trusts for her great niece and nephews with the $20,000 incentive. While his mom and dad had always refused any other financial help from Muriel, education was just too important to pass up.

Muriel had money to burn. Unbelievably, she’d been the trophy wife of an oil billionaire 35 years older than her back in her heyday and other than maintaining her estate, caring for at least 6 dogs at any given time and keeping a steady supply of brandy, she mostly just spent her money on controlling whatever family and non-profits she could sink her claws into.

“So,” said Muriel as the maid returned with a snifter of brandy for each of them. “I assume you’ve come for an advance on your graduation gift. When I saw your mother last month, she said things were quite serious between you and that Greengrass girl.”

“Uh, not exactly. See Aunt Muriel, I’ve had a change to my course of studies.”

“You’re almost done and NOW you realize that culinary arts will earn you pennies?”

“No,” he gritted his teeth. “Not culinary arts. It’s food science. It has to do with the biochemistry of food systems and preservation.”

Muriel snorted. “And you’ve decided that since pioneer women had canning figured out, there was nothing further for you to do.”

“Actually, I’ve decided to attend law school.”

“Law school?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Harvard Law.”

“You think you’re going to Harvard Law?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“Why?”

“Why-why do I want to go?” Ron responded. He wasn’t sure if his reason would impress Muriel much.

“No, why do you think you’ll get in?”

It was a fair question. Before college, he had never been an over achiever. That had started with the CULA soccer coach coming to see Ginny play during the spring of her junior year. He’d joined the coach, his parents and Ginny at the house after the meet and delivered the disappointing news that the only event he’d qualified for in the district meet was the 3200 meter. While his family looked sympathetic, the coach smiled and said, “Yes, I’d expect that you’d be a great distance runner. My husband coaches cross country at CULA. Could I give him your name?”

No one had ever expected him to be great at anything.

He won the state title in his division for 3200 meter that year and went on to win the conference title twice at college.

And once he proved himself there, people expected he’d be good at chemistry and they expected he’d be a good president of the house and good at fundraising. And he was. Doing what he was expected to do worked.

But now, they all expected him to give up on the love of his life.

“Just… want to do the unexpected.”

“You know I’m on the board of the local humane society?”

“Uh, I guess,” said Ron. He was actually clueless to her old biddy affairs.

“I understand you raised $12,000 for us at the end of last year.”

“Me and the rest of the guys,” he answered.

“Violet Pullen led me to believe it was mostly your doing.”

Ron shrugged. “I was the one who knew how to brew the beer. And it wasn’t that hard to get the permissions to bottle it and sell it and stuff. The other guys got it promoted for the most part.”

Muriel looked at him appraisingly before she chuckled dryly. “Bring me an acceptance letter and I’ll cut a check.”

*************************

“What the hell is all this?”

Ron glanced up from the stack of study guides he was perusing to answer the twins. “LSAT study guides.”

Fred groaned. “Are you still on this?”

“Of course,” Ron said. “My advisor said I need like, a 173 on the LSAT to be seriously considered.”

“Why would they consider a food science major?”

Ron shrugged. “I have a 3.89 GPA. And Stori’s a philosophy major.”

“But that makes sense,” George said.

“How?” challenged Ron.

“Dunno. I guess because philosophy is a snob subject that’s totally useless without at least a graduate degree.”

Ron ignored them.

“And how are you paying for this?”

“Muriel will cover tuition if I get in. I’ll live at home this summer and I’ve got a couple technician jobs I can take that my degree makes me more than qualified for, plus some catering gigs. I figure that’ll be enough to get through the school year.”

“Ron,” Fred said. “Bro, you like your life. Why change it for some girl?”

“I’m getting fucking tired of this. She’s not some girl. I’m in love with her. She’s the one and I just need to show her I’m worthy of her.”

“You ARE worthy of her,” George insisted.

“Then it’ll be easy to prove, right?” said Ron.

The twins looked at each other and sighed.

“Here, take my lucky pencil for the exam. It helped me pass Spanish.” Fred held out the writing instrument to Ron.

“You passed Spanish because you gave Professor Trewlaney a lap dance,” George reminded him.

“Yeah. Luckily.”

“That’s sexual harassment,” said Ron.

“It is?” asked Fred.

“Yeah, it’s called quid pro quo. She should be fired for that.”

“Well hot damn, Ronnie,” said George. “Maybe you’re set for this law school stuff after all.”

“The exam is the least of my worries. I need a two page essay, professor recommendations, and a ‘personal statement’ of some sort. I’ve never been great at selling myself,” he admitted.

“Well Georgie,” said Fred with a grin. “Looks like you just found the subject of your senior marketing project.”

***************************************

“Well,” said Horace Michaels, rubbing his face and looking at his fellow panel members. “That was certainly something.”

“The video was a lot but… I like him,” said Veda Kasyor. “He’s a college athlete and president of his fraternity while carrying a high GPA.”

“Oh, is he an athlete Veda? Did the shirtless jogging footage tip you off?”

“He was also brewing beer in his frat basement.”

“He’s a food science major.”

“And he sold that beer on campus as a Humane Society fundraiser.”

“Who produced this video? Pretty heavy handed with the studying in the library footage,” Richard scoffed.

“He’s got a 3.89 GPA and he got a 177 on the LSAT. He probably studies.”

“Was he playing chess naked in the video?”

“It was his opponent who wasn’t wearing clothes - I believe it was strip chess.”

“If we’re looking for diversity - ”

“A white man’s not it.”

“Typically, no but he’s got, what, 6 siblings? Dad’s a mailman, Mom’s a parapro. He’s not some trust fund legacy case.”

“He had internships with two major corporations. And his resume shows part-time jobs since he was 16.”

“I’m concerned about his course of study. Food science is the hard sciences. Is he going to be equipped to handle position statements?”

“His personal essay was well-written and compelling, plus he minored in business. His Business Strategy prof had a glowing recommendation.”

“Ron Weasley… welcome to Harvard.”

[songfell-ut]

Chapter 13, something luck something

I gave myself the feels, @lostmypotatoes send help

Link here.

“…AND THIS, MY INTREPID YOUNG FRIEND, IS…THE ROYAL GUARD!! NYEHHHHHH!”

They’d stopped at the head of the staircase in the Grand Hall. Her new skeleton friend had thrown his arms wide at a line of monsters standing motionless in shiny black armor, as proud as a child showing a visitor his favorite toys. “NYEHHH,” he added reverently.

The Royal Guard was quite impressive, like gleaming statues that could come to life and kill you, but Frisk wasn’t scared. She could see their ears poking out from their helmets, and some of them looked pretty silly: a couple of dogs, a cat, a rabbit, a bug, something like a lizard or dragon…

But then there was their Captain, who had just removed her helmet. She did not look silly. “UNDYNE!” Papyrus blared at the tall, eyepatched fish-woman. “THIS IS KRIS! SAY HELLO TO HIM! …ER, UNDYNE? HIS NAME IS KRIS, NYEH HEH! …HE IS A HUMAN! …NYEH? UNDYNE?”

No answer. Undyne’s scarred, scowling, evil-toothed countenance did not waver. Her webbed hand was clenched on the shaft of her spear, cerulean scales and mostly-yellow eye glittering in the witchlight. Even her red ponytail looked menacing as it fluttered in the breeze of passing dignitaries.

The human’s path was clear. Her expression went blank with determination. Frisk looked around and saw vases full of fresh flowers against the wall; as the monsters glanced at each other in confusion, the child selected a vase, tossed out the flowers, lugged the vase back to the Royal Guard Captain, and, with one almighty heave, threw the water right into Undyne’s face.

~

Frisk woke him even earlier than they’d planned, looking as though she hadn’t slept and sounding very businesslike. Sans was too groggy at first to remember last night, and before he could wonder if it had even happened, she was already laying out their plan for the day.

And…it was not what they had discussed yesterday. It was the opposite. “Lemme get this straight,” he said when she was finished. “Ya don’ wanna sneak out anymore. You wanna tell everyone an’ their mom that we’re takin’ the monsters back t’the Underground as a goodwill gesture in exchange for more cool monster stuff.”

“Yes.”

“So we’re goin’ out as a big deal that everyone knows about, on purpose?”

“Yes.”

“We’re gonna let ‘em think you already cleared it with the King ‘n everything’s fine?”

“Yes.”

“That’s…that’s a big fat lie.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Yes it is.”

“No. It isn’t.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“I’m not an idiot, Sans! If we disappeared without any indication whatsoever of where I’d gone, His Majesty would assume I’d been abducted and send soldiers after me. I just woke him up a few minutes ago and told him where we were going, and why.”

Something about the way she said it made him ask, “And he’s okay with it?”

Frisk smirked. “We’re going.”

~

Departing with a lot of fanfare actually took less effort than Sans expected. All he had to do was go down to the stables, announce that Her Eminence was leaving immediately on an important diplomatic mission, hand over her written instructions, and then stand back. For once, his scariness was a real advantage: by the time Frisk brought down the group of silent, shivering monsters, the wagons were already in place, the horses hitched up, and the cargo nearly loaded.

The priestess had been busy mobilizing a small army of assistants, which was a lot easier than their original plan to have him teleport everything from her room. Their provisions and gifts for the Underground were brought down and loaded according to the diagrams Frisk had drawn for the monsters: one wagon was for Ice Cap, who would travel with the majority of the food, while the other had Pyrope and Vulkin, who were wrapped in fireproof blankets and seated away from anything flammable. The other monsters would ride with them in order to stay warm—the canvas wagon covers were good for privacy, but didn’t keep out much of the wind.

Sans had made himself scarce while the work was going on, but when everyone and everything was in place, he stepped up to make Frisk get in with the flame monsters instead of riding up front in the lead wagon. She’d been standing in a corner of the freezing yard to supervise the last preparations; in her full High Priestess regalia, she was as impressive as ever, but he’d watched her closely and seen her trying not to cough.

As her personal guard, and her…whatever the hell they were now, it was his duty to not let her get sick again, but his official consideration was for her safety. They were traveling with a cortege of twelve guards, which would deter most attackers and also help clear traffic ahead of them, but there was no point in putting her on display for someone to take potshots.

They wheeled out of the castle gates and onto the main thoroughfare just after sunrise. Sans wasn’t a big fan of walking, or being in the cold, but his slippers and overcoat were mostly adequate. He wished he could poke his head into the wagon to check on Frisk, but she had asked him not to let the other monsters see him yet; besides, he heard her humming at a couple of points and figured she was busy keeping them calm. Pyrope was a twitchy little bastard, and Vulkin had a bad habit of “helping” via lava, so he’d just leave her to it.

The day passed, and to their pleasant surprise, they reached Frisk’s house on the outskirts of the city long before dark. That gave them more time than expected for Frisk to unload the monsters and shepherd them into the house; Sans grabbed enough food for that night and the morning, and the attendants took the wagons and horses to the nearest inn. Two guards took up positions outside the house before they locked the door for the night, and that was that.

None of the monsters had spoken or made eye contact with anyone all day, to Sans’ knowledge. As soon as they were gathered in the dining room, the priestess allowed him to step in and say, “Heya.”

Frisk retreated as the monsters came alive, swarming around the giant skeleton and all babbling at once in frantic relief. He had been somewhat scary to them in the relative peace of the Underground, but seeing him now was the best possible reassurance that the High Priestess had not been lying or playing some kind of sick game with them: they really would be home by the day after tomorrow.

After a few minutes, Frisk came back into the room, bare-headed and wearing a loose white gown, for Sans to re-introduce her as “Kris,” the not-really-a-boy from the human delegation. Six of the eight remembered her, and Pyrope got so excited that he left a couple of smoking holes in the carpet.

When everyone was done eating and talking, Frisk directed Ice Cap to the attic, where they could safely leave the little window open to keep it cold, while Sans built up the kitchen fire and made an asbestos-blanket fort for the flame monsters. The others sprawled out on the beds or any patch of floor they could, safe and well-fed; still, Sans noticed how uneasy they were, and understood what that was like. He just hoped they’d be able to feel safe again.

Once everyone was settled, Frisk was nowhere to be found. Of all the damn places she could’ve slept in, Sans finally found her wrapped up in her cloak in the bathtub. “Frisk,” he said accusingly.

She made a noise explaining that she was fine, a monster could have the remaining bed.

“Nope.” The priestess squeaked as he bent to scoop her up in both hands. “C’mon, kitten. Time ta sleep literally anywhere else.” Before she could object, he walked her into the smallest bedroom, dropped her onto the bed, and threw a comforter over her. “There. G’night.”

Frisk struggled to sit up. “Wait, where—”

Sans lay down on the floor and sighed noisily. “We’re not t’the Underground yet. Let’s just go ta sleep, okay?”

“…Okay. But, Sans—”

The boss monster emitted a loud, sustained fake snore, cut short by her pillow landing on his face.

~

Either the demon-child was still satisfied from the other night, or they were just too tired to be reachable, because they woke from a dreamless night to another stiff, sore day of travel.

The monsters were more animated today as they loaded into the wagons, which Frisk took as a good omen. Granted, there was a delay when Sans got too close to the draft horses and scared them so badly that the grooms had to unhitch them for a quick jog around the block, but the crowd gathering on the street to watch still cheered and waved as they set off.

It was another bitterly cold day, and as Frisk leaned into Vulkin, she tried not to think too much about spending the night in the no-man’s-land. King Stephin had still been sleepy when they talked yesterday morning, and the best objection he’d come up with on the spot had been the diplomatic ramifications of bringing so many humans so close to the Underground. She’d countered with the proposal that they leave all their attendants at the border and have Sans handle both security and transportation from then on, as he was a monster and knew the area well. The King tried to backpedal, but Frisk had gone on about a smaller group being faster and safer, attracting less attention, needing fewer provisions, etc., until he gave in.

“Very well. I will ask His Holiness to arrange the necessary financial matters for each monster,” the King had said coolly. “I am trusting you, Frisk, to bring back favorable news, and prove that this mission is any better than a child’s tantrum over not getting her way.”

“I wonder that Your Majesty has ever spent enough time with a child to see one,” she shot back, eliminating any chance of leaving him on a polite note.

Unfortunately, Frisk was now so busy thinking of that conversation – and trying to ignore the bruises she was accumulating from riding in a big, jouncing cargo wagon – that she forgot to mention it to Sans until they stopped for a break several miles outside the city. He’d started bemoaning the logistics they had to work out for that evening, trying to get all these guys fed and coordinated and bedded down and what they were going to do with the horses, and she had to cut him off with “They’re not coming.”

The guards and drivers looked up from their roadside sandwiches at a furious, smothered explosion of sound. They glanced at each other as the massive skeleton growled down at the priestess, but she didn’t seem worried, so they resumed eating as Sans carried on snarling and gesticulating.

Frisk could understand why he was upset, but the third time he ended a sentence with “—‘n did I mention I’m not a fuckin’ horse?!” was enough. “Sans,” she said, and he stopped. “Calm down and think about it. This may actually be safer. Have I ever shown you how I can hide something with a barrier?”

“Uh…” The boss monster shrugged crankily. “I know you’ve got a lotta different tricks.” Snort. “Any chance ya have somethin’ that’ll pull the wagons for us?”

“Yes. You.”

Sans blinked, and covered his face with one hand. “God damn it.”

Frisk turned her back to the guards so she could grin at him through the veil. “It takes a lot of strength, but if it’s just the two of us and the wagons, I could keep us completely hidden for short periods,” she said, more somberly. “In your opinion, is it safer to move by night, or camp outside the border till morning and then make as much time as we can?”

The skeleton tapped his dusty slipper on the grass, thinking out loud. “It’s probably better t’go at night. A lot of this place is so flat that you can see fer miles on a clear day. I can get by pretty well in the dark, so yer right. If we don’t have all of these dorks walkin’ with us ‘n makin’ noise, you’d just need ta cover up the wagons. It’s mostly bedrock out here, so with the wind blowin’ the sand around, we shouldn’t hafta worry about tracks.”

“I see. How far should we try to get tonight? I don’t think we can make it all in one push.”

“Not if I’m all we’ve got,” he grumbled. “Let’s get t’the fence and see how we’re doin’.”

Frisk had a word with the drivers; when they started again, they went at a quicker pace, the better to reach their destination and allow the men and horses time to get back to the nearest village before dark.

She grew more and more apprehensive as the hours passed, and finally dug out her satchel of clothing, asking the monsters to close their eyes so she could change into a more practical dress than her High Priestess leg-trap. Not long afterward, the wagon slowed and ground to a halt; they were at the border, a day’s journey from the Underground.

~

Sans waited till the other humans were almost out of sight to tell the monsters, “Come on out, guys.”

All but the flame monsters piled out to stretch their legs and wings while Sans ran a trace of red magic along the wire fencing. Frisk watched him pluck at a seemingly solid strand, revealing a length of twine holding two cut pieces together. “Humans go in ‘n out this way,” the skeleton informed her. “’s like havin’ a gate. They just untie it and tie it back up behind ‘em.”

Frisk shook her head and hugged herself tighter under her cloak. Sans didn’t have time to admire how the cold air had turned her cheeks red, or be really irritated at how the men had all gawked at her without her veil, but he did it anyway while the monsters got ready to resume their places. “So,” the skeleton said, resigned, “how’re we gonna do this crap?”

Five minutes later, Sans was trudging along in the fast-fading light, his hands shoved in his pockets, the wagon’s shafts wedged between his wrists and his hipbones so he could pull it in lieu of a horse. Frisk sat in the driver’s seat of the second wagon, whistling softly and watching the tufts of red magic keeping its shafts upright. Sans had to admit that the flat terrain and the laws of physics made it easy to keep the wagons going once they’d started…but it still sucked.

“Are you doing all right?” the priestess asked at one point.

“Neigh,” he responded, and she started snrrking so hard that he threatened to stop and make her pull the damn wagon. Then he had to deal with that mental imagery until it got darker and he could focus on maintaining a tiny speck of magic to sharpen his night vision. It was nearly a new moon out, perfect for moving in secrecy.

It happened some time after midnight. The monsters had fallen asleep; the priestess was dozing, and Sans was on the verge of stopping for the night when a shriek rang out from the wagon behind Frisk, who nearly fell off her seat. Sans had to lift her down for her to run back, leap into the wagon, and rouse Vulkin from a nightmare, humming urgently to quiet her.

“Shit,” Sans muttered as a torch flared in the distance. “Hey, kitten?”

She didn’t waste any time: a whistle raised a golden bubble around them, and Sans winced at the sheer power crackling through it. For the first time, he found he was less worried about being trapped inside a barrier than he was about the amount of magic it was costing her.

Minute after minute passed. Strange human voices drew way too close, and Sans could only stand there while Frisk held the spell steady, diverting enough magic to soothe the terrified monsters. The giant skeleton had no idea how she was blocking both sound and light and hiding the barrier’s presence from the other side while she hummed, but she did it, because the poachers soon concluded that it’d been a false alarm and wandered back the way they’d come. “They’re gone, sweetheart. Drop it,” Sans ordered, and he heard a ragged sound as the barrier evaporated.

That was enough. Sans set the wagons’ brakes, grabbed as many rocks as his remaining magic could carry, and formed stacks under the shafts to hold them upright, then stuck most of his head into the back of the wagon. “I’m so sorry,” whimpered Vulkin. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s not yer fault,” he said roughly. In the monster’s glow, he could see the priestess lying on the wagon floor, resting her head on her forearm as she struggled to catch her breath. “Hand ‘er over.”

Later, he would kick himself for dragging Frisk into the cold again, but he had to see for himself that she was okay. Sans bundled her under his coat and sat down against the wheel, folding her into the crook of his arm while he summoned up heat and softness, everything a skeleton usually couldn’t offer.

That was all well and good, but as she turned toward him, trying to reach up around his neck, something weird happened. He allowed her to stand on the ground and rest her weight against him, her arms sliding under his coat and over his bony shoulders; he’d almost gotten used to that amazing, fluttery, possessive thing his SOUL did when she was on him, but this time, it got physically warmer, and he felt like something was…leaving him? What—

Frisk’s whole body jerked. She pulled her head back enough to stare at him. “Sans? What did you do?!”

“I…” Sans had to close his sockets against a rush of dizziness. “I dunno.”

The priestess withdrew her arms and looked down at her hands. She raised one and snapped her fingers, and another barrier roared to life around them. “What the crap, Frisk?” Sans rasped. “Ya don’t have the strength fer that!”

“I do now,” she said blankly. “How…how did you give me magic directly? Is it—”

Just like that, the dizziness had become full-on vertigo. “Sansy needs t’go night-night,” the skeleton mumbled, and the darkness politely stepped up to pull him back down with it.

~

A band of poachers had made camp near the river. Their sentry glanced up from his breakfast, then leapt to his feet and called out as someone emerged from the morning mist. “Whoa! Easy, pal,” said the stranger, stopping a polite distance away and holding his hands up. “We’re not lookin’ for trouble. I’m just checkin’ somethin’.” He made a strange face, as if he wasn’t entirely sure how faces worked. “Have ya heard who’s s’posed to be out here right now?”

“Maybe,” the sentry admitted. He eyed the interloper’s oddly pale hair, the contrast it made with his black coat and red shirt, and lowered his crossbow. “Depends what you’ve heard.”

“Someone from the High Priestess is passin’ through, doin’ somethin’ with a buncha monsters,” said the newcomer, lowering his arms very slowly. “I was makin’ sure ya weren’t them. We’re pretty new at this, so—”

The sentry gave a bark of laughter. “Dumbass! It’s the High Priestess. She’s out here with nine or ten monsters, all by herself.”

“Really?” The stranger blinked too many times. “Hot damn.” He laughed, too, sort of. “Too bad we can’t get magic outta her, huh?”

The sentry leered at him in male camaraderie. “Ever seen her in person? I know what I’d get out of her!” He slapped his leg, oblivious to the stranger’s twitching eye and clenched fists. “Well, if you’re new to the business, take it from me: keep any humans you find and save ‘em for ransom, ‘specially her.”

Blink. “Ransom?”

“Yeah. Ransom,” the poacher said impatiently. “You know who her dad is, right?”

The pale-haired stranger blinked again. “Duke Whatshisface?”

“Seriously?” The sentry shook his head in disbelieving pity. “Her dad’s the King, dipshit. You never heard about it?” He gestured expansively with the crossbow, enjoying the stranger’s dumbfoundment. “No joke. The old man used to fuck anything that’d hold still long enough. There’s five or six kids left that we know of, and she’s his favorite.” His grin broadened. “You really didn’t know? Man, you’re fuckin’ stupid.” He flapped his hand. “Get out of here. Go on home before you trip ‘n kill yourself.”

In a daze, the stranger put his hands in his pockets and turned around. “Oh, by the way,” he said, and without warning, something erupted from the ground, impaling the sentry’s foot.

His screams brought his comrades running to see him clutching a huge white bone sticking out of the bedrock, and a stranger pointing wildly toward the river. “Holy crap, it came from over there!” he shouted. “It’s that big-ass skeleton thing! It’s definitely over there!”

Only one of the poachers tried to say, “Who’re you?” before another line of projectiles slammed into the ground heading away from them; he ran to follow the rest of the group, leaving the luckless sentry to try to wrestle the bone free. When he looked up to demand the stranger help him, there was no one there.

“Fuckin’ fuckstick,” Sans muttered to himself from a few hundred yards away, jerking a hand to summon more bones and make it seem like they were still under attack. “I oughta fuckin’…” He kicked a rock so hard that it hurt his stupid wimpy human toe.

Fuck-a-duck. He couldn’t go back to camp like this. With the mist covering him and the poachers haring off in the opposite direction, he could think things over for a minute, starting with whether Frisk had ever come out and said who her father was.

…No, she never had. He’d just remembered something about Rosa – who he now knew wasn’t even her mom – working for a duke, and reached a reasonable conclusion that was totally wrong. It was probably such an open secret that she either hadn’t thought to tell him or hadn’t wanted to in case he treated her any differently. She was probably sick of that already…

Sans was too lost in thought to see something moving in the mist, following him away from the poachers’ camp along the riverbank. When he absently turned to stare at the water, it vanished, only to reappear as he turned again.

So, Frisk had pulled this crazy stunt because there was nothing else she could do about the monsters being sold. According to everything Sans had seen, only the Cardinal or the King could go over her head; therefore, while Duke Whatshisass was in charge of doling the monsters out to new owners, it probably wasn’t him who’d actually decided to sell them. The Cardinal hadn’t bothered her since she said she’d be retiring, and she hadn’t mentioned him at all, which just left the King.

Sans had seen for himself how much the old man treated her like a daughter, go figure. Knowing Frisk, she’d probably told His Majesty to his face that she intended to free those monsters, and he’d decided to keep her out of serious legal trouble and also remind her who was boss by ordering them sold right away. No wonder she’d been willing to flip him the bird right back by stealing the monsters and getting public opinion on her side.

Against all logic, Sans felt his poofy lips curling upward. In a weird way, this was the push he needed to be a little less miserable about not deserving her and a bit more smug that she’d picked him over the zillion guys desperate to snag an illegitimate princess. At this point, she transcended the concept of anyone deserving her. He still thought he sucked, but so what? If he hadn’t imagined what she’d said the other night, then…

The mist was beginning to thin out as the sun came up. Sans paused and glanced behind him, but nothing was there. He turned back toward their camp, reaching for his chain. Better not confront her about something she hadn’t really been hiding in the first place, though now he was determined to ask about her m—

Only the hiss of something flying through the air alerted him in time to fling up a wall of bones, barely deflecting a blow aimed at his neck. Before he could even swear aloud, more things came at him, and he instinctively turned to run away from their camp.

“Hey! HEY!” a voice shouted. Sans’ human ears perked up at the sound. “Come back here, meat-wad!”

His aim wavered as he threw a wave of pointed bones behind him, just missing the figure in the mist. It easily caught one and threw it straight back at him, only to see it glance off another wall of bone. “You!” the figure snarled. “How did you get Sans’ magic? Where is he?! Tell me, you damn coward!”

Sans dodged another one. “Hey!” Dodge. “Hey, listen, ya crazy broad! It’s—”

“Sans?” They both froze at the sound of Frisk’s voice. “Sans, where are you?”

The boss monster finally understood that expression about blood running cold. Fighting chills, he turned his head and opened his mouth to tell Frisk to run.

That moment of distraction was all the figure needed: Frisk came up just in time to see a bone spin end over end and smash into the back of his head, nearly knocking him out.

~

The High Priestess had heard Sans’ attack on the poachers as she was balancing a frying pan on Vulkin, who’d volunteered to help cook breakfast. Frisk just prayed Sans could divert them without killing anyone, or that he would at least try.

Several minutes later, though, he hadn’t returned. She was passing the pancakes around and had retrieved the bucket for more water when she heard shouting. Her stomach lurched at the sound of bones breaking. Sans!

Telling the monsters to stay put, Frisk reflexively grasped the bucket handle and ran out of the warded camp, keeping another barrier ready. “Sans?” She looked around, squinting through the last tendrils of mist. “Sans, where are you?”

She saw him a split-second before someone threw one of his own bones straight back at him. Frisk choked on a scream as he hit the ground, blood darkening the sand. “Sa—"

“Hey. You.”

Frisk gulped as their attacker advanced on her from the edge of the water. “What’d you say about Sans, human? You know where he is?” The tall monster emerged from the mist, removing her helmet as she glared down with one mostly-yellow eye. “Oh, come on! Don’t tell me you took out a boss monster! How’d you do it? Cheating?” She almost spat the last word. “Start talking, you—”

“Undyne?” Despite her fear, Frisk smiled. “Undyne, it’s you!”

A spearpoint flashed in the air, stopping the priestess as she tried to step forward. “How’d you get my name? Did you torture it out of someone, human? Huh? Was it Sans?!” The spear poked at Frisk, forcing her backward. “Tell you what,” Undyne snapped, pivoting toward the human-shaped boss monster, who was still struggling to get up. “Let’s assume you care at all about your accomplice here. Either you tell me what I want to know, or…” The spear rose.

“No!” In sheer panic, Frisk threw a barrier between Sans and the other monster.

A moment later, she realized her mistake: Undyne had only been threatening him, but as she looked back at Frisk, her gaze was now murderous. “That’s it! That’s how you did it! You used a frickin’ barrier!” She stomped the ground so hard that Frisk felt the bedrock tremble. “I ought to gut you like a fish, you damn cheater! Do you hear me? A FISH!”

“Wait!” The priestess held up her hands, too distressed to be amused by Undyne’s choice of words. “Undyne, please! I’m—” She bit her lip. That wouldn’t work; Undyne wouldn’t believe that she was Kris. It might make her so angry that she’d try to kill them outright. Frisk racked her brains for some way to prove it—she had never shown Undyne her scars, but…

The Royal Guard Captain scowled deeper, this time in puzzlement, as Frisk stared at the bucket dangling from her forearm. “You’re what, human?” Undyne demanded.

Frisk swallowed hard. “I want to show you something,” she said, and took a deliberate side-step toward the water, ignoring the raised spear. “It’s not a barrier, and it’s not some kind of trick. Just watch, all right? And don’t hurt him!”

Undyne glanced around them in case this was a diversion, and at Sans, now lying still and silent. Frisk saw him, too, and her expression made Undyne lower her spear ever so slightly. “What is it? Make it quick!”

Frisk took a deep breath. To Undyne’s bewilderment, the human’s expression went neutral. She went to the river, dipped up a half bucket of water, carried it back to Undyne, and threw it into her face.

~

Through the haze of pain and gut-wrenching fear, Sans distantly heard Undyne yelling at Frisk, and he felt the barrier she put up to protect him. He wanted to shake her for thinking of him and not herself, and for showing Undyne she could do it. Then there was a dreadful silence, and he couldn’t get up to—

“NGAHHHHHHH!”

Sans threw himself forward, not quite gaining his feet. Hitting the ground again on all fours, he looked frantically for Undyne and whatever horrible things she was doing to—

Frisk was dangling, not from a spear’s bloody point, but from Undyne’s bear hug as the dripping-wet monster swung the human in time to a joyous bellow of “My little bestiiiiiiiiie!”

What the…no, never mind. With an effort, Sans pulled off his disguise and tried not to collapse as the world lurched sideways. “Ow,” he muttered, just to be part of the moment.

Undyne froze, not quite releasing Frisk. “Sans? What the—where’ve you been?” she demanded.

Sans’ glare would have set a lesser monster ablaze on the spot. “Almost gettin’ murdered by yer crazy ass!”

“Really?” Undyne looked puzzled. Then her face lit up. “Ohh, that was you! Ha!” She gave her giant-toothed grin. “Sorry about that, boss. How’d you do that? And why were you saying all that crap to that human back there?”

“I was tryin’ ta throw him off our trail! We’re the monsters and the High Priestess!” Sans sat up and raised one hand to heal his aching skull, indicating Frisk with the other. “Now let ‘er go before ya squeeze her t’death!”

“Hm? Oh, right.” Undyne set Frisk down, letting the priestess catch her breath. “So you’re Kris, huh?” The Captain planted her hand on one hip, watching Frisk brush herself off. “Did you know she was a girl?” she asked Sans.

“Nope. She had us all fooled.” Sans closed his eyes to focus his magic. Fuckin’ Undyne. If he hadn’t been a boss monster, that would’ve killed him!

“It wasn’t my idea,” Frisk protested as she picked up the bucket. “I was only ten, and they said it’d be safer. Can I help you with that, Sans?”

Undyne waved her spear. “Whatever! You’re here now! Ignore him, he’s being a big baby.” She glanced around. “Let’s move out before any more damn humans show up. No offense.” Frisk inclined her head. “You say you’ve got more people with you?”

If the monsters had been happy to see Sans, they nearly turned to dust when Undyne strolled into camp and announced that she would be escorting them the rest of the way home. Once everyone had calmed down, Sans had to admit the fish-lady knew how to get people moving: they scarfed down the remaining pancakes and some leftover oranges, then loaded right up and took off toward the Underground.

“Man…” Undyne was holding it together better than he had the first time he found himself inside a barrier, only betraying her fear of the dome overhead with a tighter grip and her eye darting back and forth. “I can’t believe it. She really is the High Priestess, huh?”

“Yep.” Sans was very pointedly nonchalant, sauntering along as the barrier crackled and the fish monster twitched. Served her right. “She coulda killed me a zillion times over, but she never did. Hell, I tried ta kill her a few times, an’ she smacked me down without hurtin’ me.”

Undyne shook her head. “It’s just…Kris is back, and he’s a she, and she’s the High Priestess, and she’s crazy strong…but she’s still Kris. It’s a lot to take in, you know?”

“Tell me about it.” Sans adjusted his grip on the shafts. He was pulling one wagon, and Undyne was pulling the other one alongside him; all it’d taken to get her going was a hint that she couldn’t do it. She was puffing a bit, but doing well now that they were moving. “So how’d you suddenly know it was her?” the skeleton asked.

“It was from the first time Papyrus introduced us,” Frisk said from the driver’s seat behind him. “I thought Undyne must’ve been upset because she was thirsty, so I grabbed a flower vase and tried giving her some water. …In her face.”

Sans guffawed, freeing one hand to slap his femur. “How’d that work out? Did the nice fish say ‘thank you’?”

“No, she just looked surprised. I thought she was feeling better, so I went back and—”

“The little punk tried to do it again! It was the stupidest thing I’d ever seen, but the kid wasn’t scared of me at all.” Undyne shook her head. “Then the King ordered us to be friends with the humans, so I figured I’d be the best damn friend Kris ever had.”

“And you were.” Frisk sighed. “When we get there, Undyne, I have something for you. In fact, we brought gifts for everyone. Did Alphys ever read the last two Adventure Lady novels?”

“Nah, and it’s been bugging her for years, the poor—” Undyne’s eye widened. “No. You didn’t!”

Sans let them chatter, profoundly grateful that they weren’t doing that weird thing where women hated each other for no reason. Having Undyne on their side, both physically and for moral support, was worth a dozen other monsters. “Did you get him that outfit?” she asked Frisk, nodding at the boss monster. “He’s been growing nonstop, so after a while, he just quit buying new clothes. It drives Papyrus nuts.”

“He’s my bodyguard, and it pays pretty well,” Frisk explained. “Those were a bonus for helping me shop for everyone.”

“Nice!” Undyne couldn’t reach over and smack him in congratulations, so she contented herself with jerking her head. “Good job, boss. Way to find a nice—what do humans call it? A ‘sugar mama’?”

Frisk burst out laughing and couldn’t stop, Undyne joining in as Sans sputtered. Stupid women, he thought sullenly. Why couldn’t they hate each other instead of giving him shit?

A few hours later, Undyne called a halt. “At this rate, we can get there by nightfall,” she said, offering a hand to the priestess half a second before him. “Er…do you have to, uh, go?”

Frisk looked uncomfortable enough for Undyne to nod hastily and point behind the wagon with her spear. “Not much privacy out here. We’ll just pretend you’re not doing anything, okay? Here, I’ll dig a hole for you.”

If that was awkward – and it was – it was nothing compared to the piscine monster making the others talk to cover the sound of Frisk’s business, then leaning over and whispering to Sans, very matter-of-fact, “Is it just me, or is it weird that Kris turned out to be so damn cute?”

Sans wished the ground wasn’t so flat around here, because then he could find a nice big pit and jump right on in. Luckily, Frisk suddenly said to herself, “Oh, dirt, why now?” and stuck her head beneath the wagon to call, “Undyne? Can you please get the little gray bag out of my satchel for me?”

The Captain obligingly found the only satchel with human clothing in it, rummaged around, and tossed the bag over the wagon and into Frisk’s lap. The young woman mumbled her thanks, but sounded so aggravated that Undyne asked, “What’s up? Are you okay?”

A prolonged sigh. “It’s nothing, just a stupid, ridiculous thing that human females have to put up with.” Frisk came back around a few moments later, stuffing the bag into the satchel. “Now, once we reach the Underground, should we all come in through the Grand Hall, or should Sans and I go through the Ruins into Snowdin?”

Sans exchanged glances with Undyne, who was munching on a roasted potato as if it was an apple. “You’d probably better not go straight to Asgore,” she said reluctantly. “When Snowdrake came back, he was pretty messed up, and the King was…uh…”

“Not happy?” Sans guessed.

Undyne’s eye closed. “Yeah. Not happy.”

“We’ll tell him what happened,” piped up Vulkin from inside the wagon. “We all heard the humans talking. Lady Frisk’s in big trouble for bringing us home, but she’s doing it anyway.”

The monsters made generally affirmative noises, and Frisk managed a smile.

“You are?” Undyne scowled. “Here, we’ve got to get going if we want to make it home before dark. Why don’t you give me the whole story on the way?”

They did, starting with Frisk being brought to the convent after her stint in the Underground and her memories being removed at her father’s request— “Oh, crap, that’s right,” Undyne interrupted. “That scumbag said the King’s your dad. Is that true?”

Frisk looked down at Sans in alarm. “Yeah, that’s what the guy told me,” Sans confirmed, not turning his head. “He was talking about her being worth a lot for ransom.”

The priestess grimaced. “I might not be, after all this.” She swallowed. “I wasn’t sure if you knew. I’m sorry if I—”

Sans made himself shrug. “It’s fine, kit—kiddo. Not like ya ever actually lied about it.”

“I don’t get it,” said Undyne. “If your dad’s the king, why aren’t you a princess?”

“Because I was one of many, many children the king had with women he wasn’t married to,” Frisk replied. “To be a princess, I’d have to have come from his actual wife. The first queen died childless, and his second wife died having the Prince.”

Undyne started. “Wait, so he…with just anyone, and you didn’t even count? What the hell is wrong with humans?”

“There’s the million-g question,” Sans mumbled.

Frisk sighed. “Anyway,” she said, “once I stopped begging to go back to the Underground, I settled down and studied as hard as I could. I was ordained a priestess when I was sixteen—”

The story continued until it was time for Sans to pick up with how he’d been caught by a party of five sorcerers almost a month ago. “I figured I’d hang out in jail until someone came ta get me, then kill ‘em,” he said conversationally, “but guess who came strollin’ downstairs?”

“The Duke asked me for help. There was a huge monster in the cells, and no one could decide who would be suitable to take him,” said Frisk. “I figured he must be a boss monster, and I scared them with stories about how powerful he was and how lucky they were that he hadn’t destroyed half the castle already. Then I said I’d take care of him.”

“And you tried to kill her?” Undyne snapped at Sans.

“Tried to burn ‘er, squish her, and blast her,” the boss monster said, almost proudly. “Nothin’ worked. Next thing I knew, I’d signed up fer a month of bein’ a witch ta learn how to grow better crops.”

“Which turned out to be much closer to three weeks, thanks to His Majesty,” Frisk said sourly. “I had each of these monsters taken from humans who were mistreating them so badly that even the Church wouldn’t allow it anymore, and I brought them out here to keep them from being sold again.” Even over the sound of the wheels crunching on sandy rock, they could hear her teeth grinding. “The King knew what I wanted to do, but he thought I shouldn’t have to worry my pretty little head about it anymore, so here we are.”

Sans considered pointing out that the King probably just wanted to keep her out of trouble, but decided he’d rather not be murdered. Undyne’s sole contribution was “…Damn.”

They rolled along in silence. “In three days or so, we can go back to the village and pick up the grain and other things Sans ordered,” the priestess said. “It won’t feed the entire Underground, but it will help.”

“That reminds me, Undyne—ya know the big farm over that way with the maple trees?” Sans nodded in a direction. “She’s gonna get it fer us.”

The Captain gaped at him. “She what?”

“I shit you not,” said Sans. “The human who owned it croaked, an’ she’s been negotiatin’ ta buy it. Turns out bein’ High Priestess makes ya super rich.”

Undyne muttered something under her breath, taking a fresh grip on the wagon shafts. Then her head swiveled, and without being told, Frisk immediately began whistling again. The air around them, which had been a translucent gold, solidified until it was nearly opaque. “They can’t see or hear us at all?” asked the fish monster, glancing up warily.

Frisk shook her head, and paused long enough to say, “They’d have to literally be touching the barrier to know we’re here.”

“No kidding?” Undyne squinted to watch the far-off group of humans through the barrier. Sure enough, they were moving away. “So,” she said presently, “how long are you gonna stay this time? Another month?”

“’Bout ten days,” Sans answered for her.

Undyne nodded slowly. The whistling stopped, and the human said, “Yes, if all goes well. It depends how long Asgore will let us stay, and what we’ll be allowed to bring back to the castle afterwards.”

“‘We’?” repeated the Captain.

It took Sans a second to realize what Undyne was even asking. He and Frisk had yet to discuss whether he’d be coming back to the castle after her visit, but the possibility of leaving her hadn’t even occurred to him, and she obviously felt the same way. “Yeah, I’ve gotta learn more witchy crap,” he said, hiding his elation. “Plus, the more monster stuff she gets ta show the other humans, the less trouble she’ll get in fer cartin’ these guys off in the first place.”

“And I’m not pulling the wagons back on my own,” Frisk added.

“Got it,” Undyne murmured, and Sans breathed an inward sigh of relief. Another thing they needed to hash out: what to tell the other monsters about…whatever they were now. Everything still depended on him working on himself, didn’t it? It would be easier to learn to control his magic in the proper directions inside the Underground. Who knew? Maybe if he kept thinking happy thoughts and not actively loathing himself, it’d really be possible. Maybe, if he was in good enough shape by the time they straightened things with Asgore, they could really—

The priestess resumed whistling, snapping him out of it. Undyne began bobbing her head along with the melody, and immediately started getting the rhythm wrong, but Sans decided not to say anything; he had a lot more thinking to do before they got home.

~

Very much against her will, they left Undyne just out of sight of the Underground’s principal entrance. She would announce their arrival, see the monsters to each of their homes, and then report to Asgore; knowing the King would insist on the wagons being inspected before he allowed them inside, they would also remain here.

Undyne checked over the little group of monsters as they climbed out, then paused. “Hey. Sans? Are you…gonna talk to Her Majesty?”

Frisk knew a loaded question when she heard one. Sure enough, Sans took a much longer time to reply than usual. “Yeah, I kinda have to. If she’s asleep already, I’ll leave ‘er a note.”

“Okay.” The Captain picked up her helmet from one of the shafts, pulled it back on, and nodded to them. “I’ll be in Snowdin as soon as His Majesty’s done with me. Good luck, guys.”

“We’ll see you soon,” Frisk replied, giving her a smile and ignoring the butterflies in her stomach. This was it. They were here!

The monsters trotted off, and they very faintly heard Undyne hail the sentries from atop the rise. “Welp,” Sans said. “This way.” Frisk obediently grabbed her satchel, which she’d stuffed with apples and potatoes, and set off after him, trying to be happy and grateful and not on the verge of barfing.

~

It was another cold, boring day in Snowdin. The monsters were pretty sure they knew what was going to happen today – nothing – and that it was going to keep happening, and it was hard to care much about it anymore. Sure, Papyrus kept nattering about how Sans and a mysterious human had told him they were going to come back to the Underground soon and everything would be all right, but…Papyrus. The denizens of Snowdin carried on with nothing as usual, secure in the knowledge that—

Every monster in town stopped what they weren’t doing and looked around in confusion. Magic was building in the air like smoke from a barely contained fire; there was a hhhwp, and in the empty space in front of the skeleton brothers’ house, there now stood a boss monster in black slippers and a tiny human peeking out from beneath his overcoat. “I told you to wait,” she scolded him, moving the coat aside like a giant curtain.

“What? You were the one whinin’ about how cold it was,” retorted the skeleton.

“Hey!” To their surprise, Undyne sprang up from where she’d been sitting on the step. “Where have you nerds been?” she snapped. “It’s been five frickin’ hours! Were you talking to Her Majesty, or what?”

“Nah, we got lost in the Ruins,” said Sans. “Tori’s asleep, so I left her a note like I said. What’re you doin’ here already? Is everyone okay?”

Undyne looked at them narrowly, then said, “Yeah, it turned out Asgore was already in the Grand Hall, so we didn’t have to waste time finding him.” She had changed into the outfit Frisk remembered: a short jacket, wool shirt, long pants and red boots. “Everyone’s home by now. I left Ice Cap with his family a few minutes ago.”

Frisk nodded gratefully. “What did the King say?” she asked, setting her satchel down.

Undyne hesitated. “Well…he was happy to see everyone, but then they started talking about how the High Priestess was coming in through Snowdin, and he wasn’t happy anymore.”

“How not-happy is he, exactly?” Sans demanded. “Is Frisk in any danger?”

“Nope. The others kept going on about how you saved them from the other humans, and when I told him you were Kris, he got really quiet.” Undyne put her hands in her jacket pockets. “He said you could stay until we ‘know your true intentions.’ I have to babysit you, and he wants to talk to Sans as soon as possible, but that’s it.”

Sans and Frisk breathed sighs of relief. “Good enough,” said the boss monster. He stood on tiptoe, the better to see most of the way across Snowdin. “Where’s Pap?”

Shrug. “I don’t know. No one’s in the house. He must be at the store or something.”

Frisk rubbed her arms unconsciously, turning in circles to look around them, especially at the light-spangled house. “I can’t believe it,” she murmured. “I—” She swiped at her eyes.

The Royal Guard Captain stepped over to the High Priestess and put an arm around her shoulders. “You know what? May I be the first, K—Frisk, to say: welcome back.” She gave the human what was, for her, a gentle squeeze. “C’mon. We’ll introduce you to everyone again. We can take it nice and slow, no pressure to—HEY!” Undyne had spotted a nearby cluster of monsters staring at them. “What are you looking at? Haven’t you ever seen a human before? I know you have!” She pointed at Frisk, who was still tucked beneath her arm. “Remember Kris?”

Frisk quickly forgot her irritation as several monsters hurried over. “Kris! Bro!” One dinosaur-like creature shouldered its way through the crowd, hopping from foot to foot. “Is that really you? Do you remember me? Hi, Undyne!”

Of course she remembered Monster Kid, who was only a little bigger now, still wearing the same armless sweater—twelve years obviously didn’t go as fast for monsters as it did for humans! There was the bunny who ran the store, Gyftrot – stuff still dangling from his horns – a couple of the various dogs she’d petted and thrown sticks for…

Once the first wave of pleasantries had subsided, it was time to tell them the reason for her visit, what Sans had been up to, and why “Kris” had turned out to be a lady. She noticed a few of those who hadn’t greeted her falling back to go spread the news, but saw no signs of Papyrus.

She wasn’t the only one: right in the middle of a very important discussion on someone’s baby sister being ready to hatch soon, Sans let out a growl that shut everyone up at once. “Where’s my brother?” he asked.

Shrugs and mumbles all around. “He was staring at the river again,” volunteered Gyftrot.

Sans waited for more information, then nodded. “Okay, everyone,” he told the little crowd. “We’re gonna head inside for a minute. If anyone sees Pap, don’t tell him I’m back yet, don’t mention Kris, and don’t do anything to freak him out. Got it?”

A chorus of agreement. “Don’t freak out,” someone said helpfully to Papyrus, who had just stepped into view.

Papyrus froze, staring up at Sans. “BROTHER?” he said. Then: “BROTHER! NYEHHH HEH HEHHHHH!” He leaped up and threw his arms around Sans’ massive ribcage, doing a pullup of sheer joy. “YOU’RE HERE! YOU’RE REALLY HERE THIS TIME, LAZYBONES! I THOUGHT…THE GREAT PAPYRUS THOUGHT—”

“Yeah,” Sans mumbled. “Hey, Pap.” He hugged him back for a long moment, then glanced downward. “She said she’d bring me back safe, didn’t she?”

Papyrus looked at Frisk, who was grinning. He looked at Undyne, who was grinning and nodding. The younger skeleton released his brother and launched himself straight at his best friend, tackling her with a wail of “THANK YOU, UNDYYYYNE! NYEHH!” Before the Captain could correct him, Papyrus dropped her and caught Frisk up in a less forceful but similarly enthused hug. “THANK YOU, HUMAAAAN! I—” He stopped, and turned his head to look at her quizzically. “NYEH. WHY AM I THANKING YOU, HUMAN?”

“Ya met ‘er the last time we talked, Pap, in the dream,” Sans reminded him. “An’ you were right. She is Kris.”

Papyrus blinked, still holding on to her. “I SEE,” he said sagely. “NYEH HEH HEH! OF COURSE THE GREAT PAPYRUS WAS RIGHT! I…I…” His eyes rolled up, and Sans caught Frisk just before she hit the snow along with the fainting skeleton.

“Geez. He probably hasn’t eaten anything or slept in a couple days. No worries, we can fix that!” Undyne punched Sans reassuringly in the ribs, then bent and rummaged in her friend’s “armor,” helping herself to the house key before slinging Papyrus over her shoulder. “Listen up!” she shouted at the assembled monsters. “This is all very exciting, but these guys’ve been traveling for a couple days straight to bring the others back to us. We’ll see everyone in the morning, okay?” She poked Sans as he turned to teleport into the house. “Not you! Asgore’s waiting. Get your bony butt over to Alphys’ place before he comes looking for you.”

Frisk gripped his sleeve, but she made herself say calmly, “It’s fine. We’ll be here when you get back,” as she picked up her satchel.

He stared at her for a moment, then gently removed her hand, and was gone.

Undyne let them into the house, flipping the witchlights on and kicking the door shut as Frisk walked into the living room. It wasn’t the biggest or nicest of dwellings, and it didn’t help that Papyrus had probably been stress-cleaning—it would explain why the couch cushions were still damp from the last time he’d mopped them, and why the pet rock by the kitchen was barely visible under a pile of rock-candy shards. Had Sans set those out for his brother to use, just waiting for the pun to sneak up and hit him out of nowhere?

“Here you go, Pap,” Undyne said briskly, tramping up the stairs while Frisk marveled at how much smaller everything was than she remembered. The priestess heard her deposit Papyrus in his pirate-ship bed, slam the door behind her, and come back down to pull a kitchen chair out for Frisk. “Have a seat. Sorry, but they don’t have anything in the fridge.”

“That’s all right,” Frisk said. She unbuckled the satchel and offered Undyne an apple.

The Captain took it politely, but as Frisk glanced down to dig another one out for herself, the monster chomped the apple nearly in half, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. “So,” she said casually, “what were you and Sans up to in the Ruins? No one’s dumb enough to just get lost in there for that long.”

Frisk felt her face grow stiff and hot. “I had to stop and rest because I used too much magic today,” she answered truthfully, and Undyne nodded. “I…actually, maybe you’d know this—is it possible for someone to directly give someone else some of their magic?”

The Captain paused, her eyebrows rising, a smile growing into a giant grin. “Haven’t you heard of—”

Frisk’s face got even hotter. “Not like that! I just mean, if you were weak and needed a little extra power, could, say, Asgore or Alphys give you a handshake, or a hug, and lend you some magic?”

“Nope. They couldn’t.” When Frisk looked skeptical, Undyne sighed, then made a fist. “Look, pretend this is my SOUL.” Another fist. “This one is…we’ll say Alphys.” Frisk wondered if it was her imagination, or if her friend’s face was turning red, almost purple under the smaller blue scales. “My body’s made of magic, and so is hers. But my SOUL is self-contained, and so is hers. Even if I took a chunk of my magic and handed it to Alphys—” She knocked her fists together. “Nothing would happen. She can heal me, but that’s just repairing damage, not giving me power that I could use to attack someone or do my own spells, assuming I knew any. There’s no way to combine or exchange magic unless you’re trying to have a kid, and that’s a whole different thing. It takes a lot of power and concentration, and…it’s different.” She was definitely purple now. “Why are you even asking?”

The priestess thought about it. She made a fist, and loosened her fingers until she could slide the fingers of her other hand through it. “After you left today, I was tired, and Sans gave me some of his magic again,” she said distantly. “Monsters can absorb a human SOUL, but…” Her fingers wiggled. “I don’t think it works both ways. Humans can’t take a monster’s SOUL, at least not directly into ourselves.”

Undyne suddenly looked very, very uncomfortable. “That’s true,” she commented, “for normal monsters. For Sans, the rules are a little different.”

Frisk was so startled that she dropped her hands. “Are you saying I was able to take some of his SOUL because I’m human and he’s a boss monster?!”

“Hell no!” the Captain snapped. More calmly, she said, “It doesn’t work like that. If you really took something from him that he couldn’t get back, he’d be acting a lot weaker, or he’d be dust already.” She shrugged. “If he did somehow give you magic and you had to wait for him to recover, and he did, then nah, there’s no permanent damage.”

That was something to think about. Frisk remembered last night, when she’d just wanted him to hold her. There was that jolt of energy, and he’d almost immediately passed out… She thought of a few hours back, when she’d gotten anxious and her magical exhaustion had suddenly kicked in, forcing her to sit down. Sans had – somewhat correctly – assumed that she was getting cold feet, gotten impatient, and picked her up, and when she turned to put her arms around him, it’d happened again.

Then, of course, they’d been in a uniquely ridiculous quandary where she was brimming with magic that wouldn’t help them get anywhere, and he couldn’t even stand up. Thank God she’d had something for him to eat in her satchel, or they might have been stuck out there all night waiting for him to recover. When she half-jokingly suggested she try giving his magic back to him, he’d almost bitten her head off.

Wait. Wait a second. If his magic was supposed to be so dark and terrible and evil, etc., how had she not felt anything like that from him, much less been poisoned? Frisk had the sudden, idiotic, schoolgirl-ish urge to giggle—did the good magic come out of the top half of his body, while the evil stuff came out of the other thing?

Undyne was shaking her head in wonder. “You need to tell all this to Alphys. She’d have a better idea of what’s—”

Crack went the window.

Both women whipped around at the sound of shouting outside. Undyne wasted no time, slamming her chair back and throwing the door open to roar, “What the hell is going on?”

A moment of quiet; it might have ended there if Frisk hadn’t peeked around her friend’s shoulder. A group of four or five young monsters stood a few yards away, holding stones, their body language scared but defiant. Their ringleader was a feathery snow monster who looked very familiar. “Chilldrake, isn’t it?” the human asked.

The hoodlums drew back as Undyne’s face darkened. “What do you want, kid?” she snapped. “If you’ve got a good reason for breaking Pap’s window, I’m listening!”

“We want her gone,” the drake said, shifting his feet and glaring at Frisk. “Haven’t you seen Snowdrake? He’s not Snowdrake anymore! How can you let a human in here after what they did to him?!”

“And what if she blows us up?” his friend added.

Undyne grabbed a spear from thin air and thrust it in the monsters’ direction. They shrank back, but stood their ground. “That’s not up to a bunch of kids like you,” the Royal Guard Captain snarled. “His Majesty said she could stay. Are you telling me you know better than Asgore?”

They shuffled back again, but a moment later, Chilldrake drew himself up. “Does he know she’s the humans’ High Priestess?” He raised his voice for the monsters standing nearby to hear: “Does he know she makes barriers?”

That got an anxious murmur going. Frisk felt sick; this was everything she’d been afraid of, no matter what Undyne said, or Sans. She glanced around instinctively, but he wasn’t there.

“He knows way more than you do, punk!” snarled Undyne. She advanced down the steps, leaving Frisk in the doorway. “Now get out of here before I get you out of here!”

“Fine!” Chilldrake shook his ruff, dancing a little in place. “If she’s here, it’s not safe anyway! We should all leave before she traps us and drags us off!”

The murmurs were louder and more upset now. The Royal Guard Captain looked at the other monsters in disbelief. “Guys, you were just telling her how glad you were to see her again! She’s the same damn person she was fifteen minutes ago! Are you going to listen to this little—”

“Is she really the High Priestess?” the shopkeeper asked Undyne.

The piscine monster’s face said it all. Too late, she snapped, “It doesn’t matter! She only uses her magic to—”

Everything happened at once. A stone came sailing over Undyne’s head, straight at Frisk, who did not stop to think that it was better to get a black eye or a bad cut than to confirm their worst fears. Reflex kicked in, and a barrier flared in front of her, pinging the rock away.

Her one piece of luck was that every monster froze in place instead of screaming or running to spread the tale of the human who had snuck Underground to use barriers on them—every monster but Chilldrake. “See?” he screamed, flapping his wings so hard that ice crystals flurried off them. “What did I just tell you?! Get out, human! We don’t want you here, and if I have to go tell His Majesty that you’re using barriers, I’ll—”

Whump.

It wasn’t a rock, or a spear, or a barrier. A ball of pure flame struck the ground in front of Chilldrake, who yelped and hopped backward, crashing into his friends.

The monsters’ heads turned toward the magic’s source, the edge of the field to Frisk’s right; each one immediately dropped to their knees or the equivalent thereof, with the hoodlums dropping the rocks and throwing themselves flat on their faces.

Undyne took one look, shook her hand to dispel the energy spear, and went to one knee as another monster advanced. “Your Majesty,” she said in wonder, then apprehension. Her head ducked. “Majesty, I can fully explain and take responsibility for—”

A gesture silenced her. The monster came to stand in front of the house, her amber eyes coming to rest on the High Priestess, features impassive.

Frisk’s heart constricted. She was suddenly ten years old again, not knowing whether to be afraid, whether she should bow or do something royal. She came down the steps, and to her horror, she found herself breathing harder, eyes prickling, throat tightening. “Lady Toriel,” she whispered.

Toriel folded her arms at the waist. She wore a plain robe, adorned only with the Delta Rune in white—the same thing Asriel had worn the day she fell into the Underground, only purple instead of black. The former Queen regarded Frisk for a long, terrible moment. “Where is the human named Kris?” she asked sternly.

It took all of Frisk’s training, all her experience as an exalted and lonely member of the Church’s highest echelon, to speak up. “The human child you knew was not a boy, and his name was not Kris. He was a girl, and his name was Frisk.” She swallowed. “I am Frisk.” Damn it, her voice wouldn’t stay steady. “I’m back, Lady Toriel. Please—”

Toriel took a step toward her. Another, and another. Her white-furred hand came up to brush Frisk’s hair from her face. The boss monster stared into her eyes…

And she stooped, opening her arms and folding Frisk into a huge, warm, cloud-soft hug.

Everything pent up behind Frisk’s defenses rose in a surge that crumbled the walls like wet paper. She still smelled like cinnamon and golden flowers, Frisk realized, and she wasn’t ashamed to grab hold of the velvet robe and get it soaked with tears again.

“My poor child,” the boss monster murmured, stroking Frisk’s hair as the priestess’ shoulders heaved. “My poor, dear girl. I’ve missed you so much.” She hugged her tighter. “I cannot tell you how very glad I am to see you again.”

Frisk was sobbing without restraint now, not caring what anyone saw or heard or thought of her. Toriel rested her hand on the back of the young woman’s head and looked up for the first time, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Am I to understand that this human is not welcome here?” She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t have to. “Would anyone like to say anything?”

Chilldrake had collapsed in on himself. His beak moved, but all he could muster was “…High Priestess, Majesty.”

Toriel’s hand grew heavier. “Is this true, my child? You’ve become the High Priestess?”

Frisk didn’t have the courage to raise her head. She just nodded.

The boss monster inhaled, and sighed, her diaphragm moving under Frisk’s cheek. “Then we are very fortunate to have you, Frisk.” She glanced up, once. “Wouldn’t you agree, young man?”

Chilldrake did not nod so much as vibrate his head too fast for it to be visible.

“Splendid. We…what, my child?” Toriel listened as Frisk turned her head to mumble more clearly. “They broke Sans and Papyrus’ window? My word.”

Frisk didn’t see who rushed forward, but she heard a scramble to be the first to check the cracked glass and figure out how to fix or replace it or something right now.

Toriel waited for the priestess to get herself under control, then stepped back and took Frisk’s hand. “Captain,” she said, and Undyne was instantly on her feet, fist on her chest. “We have much to discuss. Please accompany us.” And with as much grace and ceremony as if the old house had been a marble palace, the boss monster went inside, allowing Undyne to glare once more at the crowd, then shut the door gently behind them.