#if she wants to leave and leave behind her other child in the hellscape that is FL then she doesn't get me either

[beaversatemygrandma]

I just need to throw something in the void because i have No Idea how to feel about this.

So, if you've seen these void posts, then you know that my mom has absolutely lost it and is selling her house and randomly buying one in a totally different state. The news came to me randomly. She was just "I'm heading up to TN and looking out houses, might buy and sell my house." And I'm just caught incredibly off guard because there was zero forewarning. Anyways, after that whole phone call where i was honestly very shocked and very scared, and having her basically say that I'm moving in with her without really asking what i wanted. And also disregarding my sister who will be left in FL ALONE at college (like what the fuck). Anyways, I told her to CALL ME when she found a house or was on her way back home.

She didn't. For some reason she expects me to call her and then gets mad that i don't call her.

So, i get a notif from facebook saying my mom posted. Apparently she sold her house today for her original lowballing price. Which is first, how you get it to sell immediately to FLIPPERS and airbnb people. Both me and my dad told her to go with like $400k or so which she COULD GET and then get them to talk her down because she was just "gonna sell for 300k" which WHY? You could get half a mil for your house if you wanted to right now. It's near water. Prime location. By a fire station. It's worth MORE. You remodeled the back half. It's worth MORE. It sold at the FIRST showing. For so much less than it was worth. My dad has already commented there that he was telling her to ask for more. Her house is worth MORE. But she's just "You don't know shit. don't tell me what to do." So, I'm assuming, because she Didn't Fucking Call Me, that she bought a house. Like thanks. If you're expecting me to move in with you, communicate?? Tell me about the house?? Tell me what you're doing??

Either way, I've come up with a totally different plan because i was literally just using her as a landing pad to get back to my hometown. I wasn't specifically wanting to move back in with her. I just wanted to GO HOME. New place in TN isn't HOME. THAT house you sold for shit, is HOME. SO. The long-distance bf. He's getting an apartment cleaned out. It's attached to his mom's place and she's only going to charge us like 100-200 a month. It's just a small on bedroom place above the car port. It's spacious for what it is, it just needs MAJOR cleaning because his shit sister left beyond a simple mess. Complete with food trash and dog shit and furniture. This morning he'd been focusing on cleaning the fridge out. Which yeah, she left A LOT in. Like tf. She left something atrocious. Like it's not just a couple days' work. It's a couple weeks. There's even a door that has to be replaced because she took the bedroom and CUT THE DOOR IN HALF and used it specifically for her young daughter. Then proceeded to board up the porch and use that as her bedroom. Which they're just filling with all her shit and locking off from the apartment, because apparently she's got sticky fingers and they don't want her in the apartment stealing our shit when she picks up hers. So, they're opening up the side/back door to use as the main door. Because yeah, that "porch" is a mess and it's barely got a path to get in through anymore.

So yeah, moving in with him. Honestly, it feels like a good option. I know we get along well and he's a lot better with communication than other people I've dealt with, so if we hit any bumps suddenly with cohabitation together, I'm sure we can figure it out fine. And with something that has happened with him (some huge lego set that he was promised after getting a job by his grandparents), I've learned how to get him to leave me alone for hours on end if I need that. Like, I know i can definitely just ask if he hangs out in the bedroom and me living room or vice versa for a bit if we need space, but you know. If it comes to it, i at least have that knowledge. But it seems like a nice place. If we need help, his family is literally on the other side of the wall. There's goats, dogs, and cats on the property. It's like ten minutes out of town in the woods, so it's quiet. And honestly, I've been wanting to have him around like really bad for a good long while now. The plan if my mom hadn't moved, would be staying there and doing the test to see if we could live together by basically spending a couple days together, so we're skipping the testing period. But at least that means i won't have to move my stuff twice, just skipping the middleman and bringing it all there. But my mom is already in her process. So, I'm just going to go straight there once I can. He's already offered to pay the price of getting me there which helps immensely because the only reason I'm not in that town yet is because we haven't had the money. Quite literally, as soon as the repairs on my car are done and he's got the place cleared out, then we're good to go.

I should probably tell my dad he offered to pay that.

ANYWAYS. I should call my mom at some point and tell her my plan because I don't want to go with her and basically get trapped by her again. Ntm because she still also hasn't cut off her nazi ex husband. I basically explained that to my dad and he was just nodding and agreeing. Like he understands exactly why I wouldn't want to just up and move in with her alone.

I should also call my sister and get her that remote job referral. And tell her that she won't be alone in the state and we'd have a couch for her to crash on if she needs a place to stay over school breaks.

I do want to move in with this guy. Really do. But WHY can't my mom return her expectations for me and CALL?? I wanted updates. I told her to give me updates. She did not. I came up with another plan instead of just having the "I'll stay with her for a year or two and then eventually we'll get together." No no no. I'm going right to him. Fuck staying with my mom and getting trapped under her control again.

[hotpinkstaples]

one thing i’ve realized - older!jon slander because of wanting supersons back, and post-flashpoint!lor zod slander because of wanting chris back but without the baggage of his multiple tragedies are two sides of the same of coin. it’s like ppl love the concept of the Son of Superman but hate the very inevitability of the tragedy that is BEING a Son of Superman. we live with knowing lois can let clark go into the night because he belongs to the world and not just to her, but ppl struggle with accepting clark is destined to be a failure of a father BECAUSE of that same reason. you can’t be a father if you belong to the world, because being a father means you have to be your child’s number one, and that’s not something clark could do for chris OR jon, and usually of no fault of his own.

so if you can’t be a father bc you belong to the world, what does the world do? it sends your adoptive baby back to the shadow realm, and then your second baby gets kidnapped by some demonic version of you and abused in a volcano.

it’s fascinating bc one could argue that in the many versions of lois that has existed in the various continuities, there were times clark WAS the garbage partner and DIDN’T deserve her, just like there were times where one could argue she was being a bitch to the sweetest guy with the biggest burden. after decades and a crisis or ten, they did eventually find that middle ground where clois could exist with lois accepting she might become a widow eventually, and still that clark belonged to the world.

but adopting chris, having jon, losing chris twice, losing jon, getting them back in different ways and just not being really able to RAISE them because they’re GROWN….. it’s a challenge that’s gonna take decades more of storytelling to get to a good place bc clois have no choice BUT to be shitty parents, bc they married knowing the other could just die at any time. so what happens when the danger couple has kids? of course they can’t get their shit together! in theory they’re great ppl, but in practice they fail at the basics because they have no choice BUT to fail.

bc how do forgive yourself as a father for not being able to stop your son from sacrificing himself to save you from being his birth father’s warden in the phantom zone, just for him to get benjamin buttoned in that hellscape?

how do you forgive yourself as a mother for leaving your son to crazy peepaw bc of your own VERY real insecurities, only for your son to come back with a plastic smile and a glint behind his eyes bc he’s half mad but pretending be just fine bc your abandonment led him to being tortured by some madman during his pubescent years?

and then, adding fuel to fire, they both just…. let jon go to the 31st century. chris didn’t even get a return parade cuz they nuked the universe with flashpoint, but two strikes…… otho and osul gotta take this shit home for the fallen 😂😂😂

i don’t know where i was going with this, but im just saying, the chronicles of lois and clark being terrible parents is absolutely hilarious to me and i love it.

[knifechased]

hc + dysmorphia

          【 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐂 + �� 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃. 】                     @snowdrcp

     Potentially triggering content below the read more. Tw for child abuse, human trafficking, dysmorphia, and self injury.

          There were numerous simultaneously occurring factors that contributed towards Killer eventually coming to develop facial dysmorphia. It was the combination of all these circumstances, rather than there being one single sole cause, or a single event which triggered his first instance of experiencing it.

     Killer has spent his entire life attempting to conceal his identity as a three-eye-tribe member for his own safety.      After his mother was first discovered by slave traders, she began sailing the ocean in an attempt of escape — this was how she came to become shipwrecked on Killer's home island in the first place. When he was three-years-old, her identity was discovered and they were separated; she was captured and sold at the Human Auction House at Sabaody Archipelago, and he has not seen her since. Killer was then handed to his self-acclaimed "foster father", who intended to raise him to also be an obedient slave and seal him to a fate similar as his mother once he was older, and able to sold for a higher price.

Killer was severely punished for disobedience, and was beaten for any behavior deemed unacceptable by his callous caregiver. This included displaying too much emotion, as it would be unsightly for a slave to be caught smiling, laughing, or crying. Killer would be physically abused if he was caught performing any of these actions, as well as being verbally mocked for them. He was degraded for the sight of his smile and the sound of his laugh even when it wasn't currently present, just to further discourage him from doing either in the future.

When he was thirteen, Killer killed his caregiver. It was around this time that he could recall the earliest instances of struggling to perceive his own face.      From then on, he was subjected into working for the single most powerful gang leader on the island — a ruthless man who ordered Killer to be his pawn, and to commit crimes he was not proud to be involved in. However, he had little choice in the matter. His freedom and escape were dependent on earning that man's trust, and doing as he was instructed was the only way he would have any hope of leaving that hellscape island.

The fear of being discovered for his third eye lead him to want to hide his face. The dread of having his emotions perceived lead him to want to hide his face. The mental turmoil of having taken a life when he was still only child lead him to want to hide his face. The shame of having to work under heartless man and act as if he were loyal to him without once grimacing at the things he said made him want to hide his face.

          The sensation only grew worse with time. Even after leaving his home island and putting that life behind him, the anxiety he felt did not cease.

Killer's facial dysmorphia is not due to a concern of being perceived as unattractive. He is not worried about being seen as ugly, nor does he particularly care about wanting to be handsome.      For Killer, his facial dysmorphia manifests in his inability to recognize that his face is actually his own. There is a disconnect between what he sees in the mirror, and what his brain is able to perceive as being his body. He cannot look at himself and register that he is looking at his own face. It is as if he has skinned someone else's face and now wears it; it feels incorrect, and somehow very distressing to look at. He feels inhuman, like he is only wearing the disguise of a person.

Having his face seen by other people is equally uncomfortable for Killer. Because he cannot perceive his own face, he also cannot imagine what other people are seeing when they look at him. This causes him to feel extremely out of control, as he has no concept of what he is or what he looks like to others.

When Killer is unable to wear his mask for extended periods of time, he cannot stop fixating on how his face feels. His skin is too tight, like it does not fit. This will incite him to keep repeatedly touching his face, and he will sometimes begin obsessively itching and scratching it to try and self sooth.

Very few members of his crew have seen him without his mask. Naturally, this includes Kid, Heat, and Wire. Many of the more recently recruited members have never seen him without it.

Killer's dysmorphia is limited only to his face, and the feeling does not extend to the rest of his body.

[thessalian]

Astrid vs Various Abandoned Buildings

Still wandering a shadow-cursed hellscape

Wyll: Oof. I see what they mean about the shadows being worse in there-- Wait. Who's that?

Roland: Oh GET TO FUCK!

Astrid: Awwwww, he came to save his friends! ...With almost no protection from the shadows whatsoever, the poor sod. And is being attacked by shadows GALE?!?

Gale: On it. IGNIS!

Wyll: He really loves that spell, doesn't he?

Gale: These things don't like light! Besides, you use Eldritch Blast like it's the only thing you know how to do!

Wyll: Well, the Arms of Hadar aren't going to do a lot here, are they?

Shadowheart: If the two of you would just stop arguing for five seconds...

Roland: No, no; bickering is nicely familiar. Just I'm used to it being directed at me.

Astrid: I really don't want to give you the headache that would entail. For instance: *ahem* *Vicious Mockery resonance* WHAT KIND OF MAGICAL DARKNESS ARE YOU? I CAN SEE RIGHT THROUGH YOU, YOU SHADOW-PUPPET PRETENDERS TO PATHOS!

Wyll: Pretenders to--?

Astrid: Have you looked at the stuff they leave behind? Those were people at one point and that's pathos however you slice it. *back to Vicious Mockery resonance* BUT IF THEY WERE OF ANY USE AT IT AT ALL, THEY WOULDN'T HAVE TO DO PHYSICAL MAIMING! I CAN HURT YOU WAY WORSE JUST BY TALKING!

Angry Shadows: *shriek in rage and pain*

Gale: ...Is it wrong that I love it when she does that?

Shadowheart; Wyll: No.

Stabnation: *ensues*

Stabnation: *finishes*

Roland: ...All right, fine, I can't do anything here, I'll go back to the inn and let you people handle it.

Astrid: If you're really keen to be nearby, maybe hang out at our camp? There's Halsin there, and--

Roland: And the pasty-faced smarm-merchant; no thank you.

Astrid: There's ... also a fantastic bard! And ... a ... fascinating character with aeons of stories to share!

Roland: You're dancing around that a little too carfully.

Wyll: Well ... the bard is Volo...

Gale: And the other one's some kind of lich, we think.

Roland: .............................

Astrid: ...They're totally safe! We promise!

Roland: Trekking back through this mess to the inn is safer than where you people lay your heads down for the night! Ugh! *stomps off*

Gale: ...Rather glad he didn't come along with us, to be honest. I was glad to be rid of the constant complaining when we stopped taking Astarion along.

The basement of a mason's workshop

Wyll: You know ... we skipped the toll booth because you didn't want to waste time fighting monsters. Please explain to me why we had to come down here and fight a bunch of shadows.

Astrid: *holds up a map of Moonrise Towers*

Wyll: ...................*heart-eyes* Fair enough.

Sneaking towards a graveyard

Arabella: Oh! Hi! You saved me! Guess it's my turn!

Arabella: *Entangled a bunch of shadows in roots*

Astrid: .........Kagha insulted, threatened, and basically cast out a baby druid?!? *bursts out laughing*

Arabella: Well ... I reckon it was that idol what did it, but...

Astrid: Oh, sweetie, go hang out at our camp. We're going to be rescuing all the tieflings those nasties took, and there's Halsin to talk to. Or ... you know, if you're interested in the effects of ancient artefacts, there's Wither...

Gale: You're encouraging a child to speak to a lich.

Astrid: Wither probably gets lonely. What better way to help him reacquaint with life than to speak to someone young and ... um ... innocent in that way that in no way suggests being naive?

Wyll: Well, I suppose someone needs to take the job while you're saving everyone.

Astrid: *sheepish grin*

Gale: ...what part of "I saw her first" was unclear?

And finally...

Astrid: Okay, this is what I was looking for!

Shadowheart: I thought we were looking for the House of Healing to help that Harper. This ... looks more like...

Astrid: The Gauntlet of Shar. Surprise!

Shadowheart: You ... found me trials, with potential death, and communion with a death god.

Astrid: I know, it's not even your birthday. I mean, unless it is. Do ... you ... remember when--?

Shadowheart: Actually ... no.

Astrid: Well then! We'll go with the odds. Before we go in... *pulls lute; starts singing "A Very Merry Unbirthday To You".

Raphael: *more or less appears out of nowhere* ...I oddly do hate to interrupt--

Shadowheart; Gale. Wyll: Then don't.

Raphael: Look, that way lies death but you eat that sort of thing for breakfast anyway so just let me flag up that there's something rather horrible down there and I want you to kill it. No questions asked.

Astrid: We are going down there and we are using our own judgement but it'd probably really help if you told us why you want that thing dead so badly. We're far more likely to do what you're asking if it's a reason we agree with anyway, right? Incentive is good, at least in some form or other.

Raphael: ...You're good. I'll owe you one. *poofs*

Astrid: Great. Too many people need favours from someone like him. We're going to have to boulder-parchment-shears for it if the time ever comes.

Gale: ...What about you?

Astrid: We get this tadpole out of my head, I'm happy, but we all have avenues for that. You don't blow up? I'm happy. Wyll gets out of his infernal contract? I'm happy. Astarion gets free of his sire? I'm happy. ...And Shadowheart gaining the blessing of her goddess is a happy for me too so let's go!

Gale: ...What do you do for people that selfless?

Shadowheart: My goddess will be blessing her too in all this. I'm good.

Wyll: She'll be helping me with the situation with my father. That should be good for something ... right?

Gale: .........Damnit, the Weave isn't quite enough.

Shadowheart: Anyone with sense would have offered flowers, wine, and a conjured bed by now.

Gale: That ... that is insufficient!

Wyll: She made the wrong decision, then.

Shadowheart: Or, to put it another way ... Gale ... you seduced a goddess. Your game has to be good enough to have impressed a goddess. Now for pity's sake, either you start seducing her already, or I will.

[lalannaoronir]

Endwalker spoilers (lvl 85-86 quests)

As soon as Lalanna had heard of the towers appearing in Thavnair, she took the first boat home. Although she had grown fond of her life among the Scions, she knew returning there was long overdue.

Reuniting with her parents and brother (whom had returned from his time spent on the Steppe) had been somewhat bittersweet: as much as she wanted to focus on catching up, the looming threat remained.

The Tower of Zot had been a terror, but with the Scions' and Warrior of Light's assistance, the Matanga were freed. The Tower vanished, its influence dispelled from her beloved home. Now, surely, she could spend at least a few weeks reclaiming the idyllic life she had never wanted to leave behind.

... Or so she thought.

"This can't be." The Tower was gone. Word had even come that the Ilsabard Contingent had established a shaky alliance with the Garlean survivors. Everything was looking up! Perhaps even racing to a conclusion!

But no. No. She awoke from her slumber to a sky whose colors mimicked flame, not the painted hues of a dawn. To the screams of those twisted into horrific shapes when overcome by the horrors. To the clouds of godsforsaken beasts filling the air. To the sight of the stars falling in an apocalyptic hellscape.

Her brother and father remained with their village. She dove across the waters to Yedlihmad, trying to get to the mainland where her mother was stationed in Radz-at-Han.

All of that courage, that confidence crumbled in the face of it all. Her home. Her people. She wanted to scream and curse the skies, but she was stunned into a pitiful silence as she crumbled to her knees on the docks and sobbed.

This was nightmare made flesh.

Familiar voices reached her, and she looked up in time to see the Warrior of Light and other Scions had arrived. The relief that overwhelmed her gave her the strength to climb to her feet. As she made her way over to them, she realized they were being briefed by the Satrap.

"--I mean to dispatch our Radiant Host in an attempt to quell the threat. They make for Vanaspati."

Vanaspati. That was the jungle where her mother had grown up. She had been there many times as a child.

"Let me go vith you," She said, drawing their attention. Her own words surprised her. What she truly wanted was to curl up into a ball and shut everything out, but she knew that wasn't an option. She had to do something. She spoke again, looking to the Warrior of Light. "I know Vanaspati. I can guide you."

The Warrior of Light gave her a solemn nod. Once again, she felt relief -- as well as a teeming build of anxiety and determination. She looked to Ahewann, giving a short bow of her head. "Your Excellency. My mother --"

"Darshana is taking care of the citizens in Radz-At-Han," Ahewann assured her.

Lalanna took a shaky breath. "Thank the Sisters." With a shudder, she turned back to the Scions. "I'll be vaiting by the docks. Please hurry."

She couldn't allow herself to linger on anything or anyone or any single thought for too long. If she didn't keep moving, keep doing, she would shatter into a million pieces. Now wasn't the time.

[binniesthighs]

two tails | reader x minho |

One 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x lee minho 

Genre: strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, fluff 

Tags: neighbors au, comfort fic, catowner!minho, catowner!reader, author!reader, bestfriend!seungmin, agedup!skz, slow burn, plot-driven, gradual romance, meet cute scenarios, lil bit of angst, strained parental relationship, explicit language 

Word count: 3.9k 

Chapters 

P | ONE | TWO

homebody noun 

: one whose life centers around the home. 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌��

Grocery stores are a cursed place. Horrible. You might have guessed that if there were to be a special layer of hell to be reserved for you (which you sure as hell wished there wasn’t) it would likely be a grocery store. 

Firstly, they are one of the messiest places that you could ever experience. Have you seen the ways that those beige-y grey floors get caked with dirt and smudges from who knows what? Have you seen the dirt and grime that hides under those produce shelves? Secondly, why is it that everyone always feels the need to get so close to eachother crammed in those isles? Why is it that you have to do that awkward shuffle when your cart and someone else’s cart gets in each other’s way and you have to do the “no you go first” and “no, you go first.” 

You prayed that you had been good enough in this life to escape some kind of grocery-store induced hellscape. 

Partly it was Bomi’s fault. Temperamental nuisance. Three days into her newest bag of cat food and she suddenly decided to go on a hunger strike. The internet  had told you that perhaps she just didn’t like the flavor. Little did the internet know that you had nearly already tried every other flavor there was, even the expensive ones. 

You stared down to your crinkled up list filled with the ramblings of an attempted grocery list and other absentminded doodles. 

DONT FORGET STUPID NEW CAT FOOD 

Under the reminder, you had drawn an angry little cat face with Bomi’s characteristic calico facial splotches. 

“Damn cat. You’re lucky that I still love you.” You uttered under your breath. 

The wheels of your cart screeched as you turned the corner into the pet isle. Of course, you were the lucky one that had to pick the cart that had only three functioning wheels and whined like your mother over the phone. You cringed to yourself, bearing through the sound and the two glances from a mother and her child throwing an obscenely large bag of dog food into their totally normal cart. 

You didn’t need to, but you mouthed a tiny “sorry” to them as you passed them. 

The tall metal racks appeared to touch those flickering fluorescent lights above them as you perused them, glancing over all of the brands which you had undoubtedly purchased one time or the other. 

Tuna, salmon, tuna and salmon, tuna and veggies, salmon and veggies... 

What would it be that Bomi would tolerate this time? Was it grains that she didn’t like? Wet food? 

Merely looking at the prices for the canned cat food sprung such a headache that you wished you hadn’t looked at them at all. But, if it was what your princess would eat... 

On the highest shelf, your gaze caught a brand that you hadn’t seen before, so you summoned your strength to stand on your tip-toes, stretching up your arm as far as you possibly could, teetering just a little... 

“Al...most--” 

“Here, I can get that, let me just--” 

“--Oh no, it’s fine, I can reach it, thank you--” 

“--It’s alright, I’ve almost got it...” 

His elegant fingers got tangled up with yours. Had your determination been any weaker, he would have snatched it up all himself, but...

He chuckled a little. “Are you sure?” 

You turned your head to affirm, “Positiv--Minho?” 

“Y/n?” 

You had finally had the little can in your grasp, only to feel it slip out of your fingers in your shock. 

The terrible sound of the aluminum can hitting Minho’s head and glasses bonked between your fumbling arms, working just too slow. 

“Ssss-OW!” 

Minho’s hand went immediately to rub at the top of his head with eyes tightly shut. 

“Oh my god!!! Are you okay?” 

Instinctually you swooped in to see if any harm had been done. 

“Ah-I’m fine, don’t--I’m fine.” 

Your neighbor patted down his head, trying to craft a smile for you under his painfully crossed brows. 

“Are you sure? I-I’m so sorry. God, I’m so stupid and clumsy, don’t you think that you have a concussion or something?” 

He laughed out a sharp chuckle, then winced at what the action did to his head. “I don’t think so.” 

“Are you sure about that?” If he could have heard, he would have noticed your heart anxiously beating at a hundred times per second. 

“It’s okay, really, I’ve had worse things thrown at my head.” 

“What the hell could be worse???” 

“You don’t want to know.” He maintained his hopeful grin. 

Even after being assaulted by cat food, he was still just as beautiful as you remembered. 

“Oh! Your glasses!! Where did those go??” 

Frantically, you spun around, shoving your cart aside with another startling screee. Quickly you found them nearest the bird seed. 

“Here. Here you go, I hope that they’re not broken.” 

“Mm-doesn’t look like it.” Minho inspected them. 

“Oh thank God.” 

He huffed out one more little scoff-sounding laugh. “At least you’ve got the cat food that you wanted now. 

“Yeah, but at what cost?” 

“I said don’t worry about me.” 

Minho fluffed his hair back into place, likely hiding another rub to his throbbing head. 

What even does one say to someone who you nearly wrecked with cat food? 

“You uhh--what are you doing here?” 

“The same as you, getting cat food.” Minho snatched a bag of food from a lower shelf. “With three mouths to feed you tend to run out pretty fast.” 

“Oh! I-uh...can imagine.” 

“Weird shopping here like I live here now...never thought that would happen. I’m still getting used to everything around here; never knew that I would end up back living with my mom...and at my age.” 

“Don’t-don’t feel bad! It’s a nice area around here! At least I think, and it’s a... nice grocery store...” 

You did not think that it was a nice grocery store, but it seemed like the right thing to say. 

Minho smiled back at you warmly, just as he had done back on your doorstep, tabby cat in his arms. You had wanted to see it again. 

“-Guess that means I’ll be seeing you around here more often too then.” He took the cat food can--his ex-assailant-- to drop into your cart. 

“I guess so...and sorry, again.”

“Really don’t worry about it!” Minho rolled up his hands into little sweater paws on the handle of his cart. “I’ll see you later then.” 

“See...you...” 

Your words trailed behind him, seeing as he had already started wheeling away. As soon as he was out of an earshot, you cursed yourself out terribly--another habit you had developed since living alone; you really were your only company. 

“God, Oh god. Now he thinks that I’m a recluse and a wreck, oh god--” 

“--Hey! Watch where you’re going!!” 

An old man with a newsboy cap griped before you nearly collided with him and his cart full of diet sodas. 

“Sorry!! I’m so sorry!” You bowed profusely in apology while removing yourself from the isle as fast as you could.

Grocery stores really were your own kind of personal hell. 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

The cold metal of the bus stop sign dissolved into your sweating forehead while you watched the springtime sunset fade out before you. It really was pretty, and it was just enough to distract you from how weighed down your backpack and numerous reusable bags felt. Had your hands been free, you would have taken a picture. 

What time is it even? 

Your watch was restricted by the number of straps around your wrists. Sometimes stepping outside of your home and onto the sidewalk was draining enough to make you feel like scurrying back inside. Big trips like this however, had you falling asleep in those uncomfy plastic chairs in (also) disgustingly messy buses. 

To your right, you heard the usual hum of the number 10 bus wheel up. 

“Wait! Wait!! Hold the bus!!” 

Hurried footsteps came patting behind you, followed with shallow running breaths. 

Hair bopping and cardigan flopping a little like wings behind him, Minho sprinted to the doors. 

“Take a seat ma’am.” The bust driver snapped you out of your embarrassment over seeing him one more time than you would have liked. 

“Ah-sorry, I will.” 

You shuffled your way near back of the bus and attempted to hide your face behind your bags decorated with none other than flowers and cartoon cats. 

“Please don’t see me, please don’t see me.” You chanted under your breath while your neighbor looked for a seat. 

“Y/n? Heh, I just keeping running into you don’t I?” 

“Minho!!!!” You piped, just a little too animatedly. “Huh! Didn’t figure I would see you here...too...” 

Minho slid into the booth across from you. “I mean, it makes sense, we’re going to the same place basically.” 

“Don’t you...have a car or something?” 

“I do, but I figured that the grocery store was close enough, although, I didn’t really factor in how all of this would weigh a ton.” 

“Hm, I never really do as well.” 

A pair of older lades glared over at the two of you, clearly displeased that you were disrupting their peaceful bus ride. Minho cowered under their piercing and aged brown eyes, then stealthily slid into the seat next to you. 

His washed out jeans brushed up against your leggings, and you felt your hairs stand on end. If there was someone out there who decided if you went to a hellscape grocery store, they must have also been able to mask the smell of your sweat. You hoped that they were listening to your pleading requests. 

“It’s a really a nice evening isn’t it?” 

Minho peered out your window at the little shops and bustling streets beside you. The sidewalks were decorated with little skinny trees here and there which had just started to bloom with the buds of leaves and flowers. There was a peaceful air about the scene that reminded everyone that the cold would soon be gone for good, and the sky swirled into pinks and purples. 

“Oh! Yes, yes it is.” 

You tried your best to ignore the fact he was leaning into you slightly. 

“So. What else do you do besides be a cat parent and a part-time chucker of canned goods?”

You wanted to crawl in a hole once you saw his adorable grin once more. “I-I have a job, a couple actually.” 

“A couple? And what are they?” 

“I teach online college courses in creative writing and English.” your glasses fell a little down your nose bridge, so you adjusted them accordingly, “I also edit for a small publishing company--but that’s more of a side thing.” 

“That’s...a lot of writing and things like that.” 

“Well, it’s what I went to school for, and, I don’t mind...although my mother--” 

“--Have you written anything yourself? Anything that I could read?” 

You felt your cheeks set ablaze with heat. “You?! Oh no no no no.” 

“What?” A mischievous grin overtook Minho’s adorable one. “Do you write provocative content?” 

“No! I do not!” Your tone turned more defensive than you had intended. 

“Well, what do you write? Even if you did write that kind of stuff, I wouldn’t mind. Provocative contents are trendy these days.” 

“I didn’t even say that I write in the first place!” 

“I just assumed seeing as you seem to do other things in this field...so, what do you write?” 

“It’s embarrassing, and I don’t owe you the knowledge!!” 

Minho reached over your fuming body to pull at the bus cord, letting out the little stop requested tune. 

“What is it that you do then?” 

“Something boring and business-y that you wouldn’t care to know about. It’s definitely not as interesting as what you do I’m sure.” 

Your neighbor gathered up his bags while the bus slowed to the stop. 

“You coming?” 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

[19:07] 

me: seung, i’m such a fool. you will not believe 

seungmo: should I even guess? what? Bomi yack during your online lecture again? 

me: no, worse. 

seungmo: i’m listening. 

i guess i don’t really have a choice though don’t I? 

you’re just gonna tell me anyway aren’t you? 

The cat in question purred in your lap, permitting you your usual one hour of cat-attention a day like she would during the evenings. After your day of embarrassment, you had hunkered down on your favorite place on the couch, swaddled in blankets with the TV playing some nature show that you had been trying to pay attention to. Somehow, the thought that Minho living just doors away made it all seem even worse; you were bound to see him again. 

You bit your lip and started tapping away at your phone screen, regaling the entire tale to your best friend--who frankly had enough of your awkward “you-isms.” However, no matter how socially insecure you were, Seungmin appeared to stick by you. In fact, it was one of your “you-isms” that had brought the two of you together. 

Four years ago at that pet shelter where you had got Bomi, Seungmin was there too looking for a dog. It was Bomi’s skittish self that leapt out of her cage and into Seungmin’s arms when his dog started barking. Bomi had nearly destroyed Seungmin’s sweater by the way that she had clawed into him. Of course, you took her crime upon yourself and insisted on buying him a new sweater. After an exchange of phone numbers, he hadn’t gotten bored of you yet. Bomi had always liked him more than you--the traitor. 

[19:18] 

me: ...and then he showed up on the bus, just as I had thought that I had escaped, and then started berating me about what I do for a living. 

seungmo: are you sure he wasn’t just asking questions, NOT berating? 

me: it felt like it. 

seungmo: and why are you telling me all of this? 

me: bc I wanted you to give me some comfort?? or reassurance?? isn’t that what friends do? 

seungmo: what do you want me to say? I’m sorry, that was really embarrassing? get over it? stuff like that happens to you all the time y/n, I don’t know why you are making such a big teal of it. 

*deal of it. 

me: wow, you’re being of such help. 

seungmo: you’re overthinking it. as always. 

me: but i’ll have to SEE HIM again. 

Seungmin’s little three writing dots disappeared, and you waited in silent anxiety for what he would say next. 

[19:24] 

seungmo: you’ve got a crush on him don’t you 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

The evening sky had darkened, and you felt the air temperature begin to drop. It wasn’t unbearable however, and you had prepared yourself well with your giant sheep-like blanket wrapped around your shoulders. The cold wire chair that you sat in was undoubtedly pressing shapes into your bare legs crossed up on it, but you never seemed to mind it. 

Bomi yowled behind the sliding glass door to your backyard, so you allowed her to exit, making her a much happier cat. The two of you enjoyed these nights together deeply--they almost felt like a brief escape from life. Bomi would sneak around the edges of the fence, sniffing and looking rather suspicious when her green eyes would glow in the light of the house. Your glasses likely looked the same reflecting the light from your computer screen. 

You took one more sip of tea, then opened up your internet. A couple clicks, and you found the notification screen on your page. 

hearts: 267 

shares: 19 

comments: 21

Your eyes scanned over the little paragraphs that some of your readers had written for you. It made your heart swell with immense joy seeing the way that they had analyzed and picked apart every little part of your prose and how they would write IN ALL CAPITIAL LETTERS about how excited they were for your next chapter. 

~

I can’t wait for the next chapter! I’m DYING to know what was in that chest!! I really hope that Bomi can trust Davers. He just seems a little shady to me >////< 

YOU’RE INSANE FOR THIS. The fact that Bomi could fight off the dragon while Blaze was confessing his feelings for her??? I could never lollll 

 P L E A S E protect little Herbie. He’s such a cutie. I wish that hedgehog companions were real, I would take one with me everywhereeeee 

N/n, your writing is so so pretty!! I felt like I was right there in the scene with them! The way that you described the enchanted fountain had me drooling ahhh you’re such an inspiration to me as a writer!!! 

Blaze fanclub?? i’m trying to see somethin’ 

~

“If Blaze were real, I’d be the president of that fanclub.” You laughed out to yourself. 

Suddenly, you found you thoughts shifting from your dreamy Blaze to someone much less fictional. 

Crushes on boys who were real was much better than one’s who weren’t. It was nice admitting it to yourself at last. 

“Ahhhh” You sighed out, doing a little happy dance in your seat, then opened up the chat box to return to the replies. 

After responding to as many as you could, you opened up a new chapter. 

Chapter 22 

Blaze wiped off his sword, stained with the steel blue blood of the dragon, still steaming with heat underfoot. His disheveled deep black trellises were coated in his own sweat but it didn’t make him look any less dashing--per usual. 

“Princess Bomi, you still haven’t answered my question.” 

Bomi sheathed her own sword, then inspected her wooden shield for any more damage. For a moment, she thought that the claw marks made it look even more beautiful and intimidating. 

“Blaze. You know that I can’t talk about romance at a time like this, have you forgotten that the kingdom as stake?”  

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Bomi perched at her usual spot in the window, eyes fluttering closed before she would take her nap that would last for nearly the whole afternoon. You would have been lazing with her, but that would have to wait another hour or so: with your newest paycheck, you had decided to deliver some new flowers to yourself for your garden. 

The little array was spread out before you: yellow and purple pansies, pink tulips, fuchsia and baby pink peonies, and dainty while lilies of the valley were arranged where you had planned to adorn your front lawn. The aroma of the flowers lingering in the air was enough to make you feel as if you had transported yourself to the very magical gardens that you would be writing about that evening. 

A pair of songbirds chittered past, carrying their whistles behind them. For a brief moment, the sun shone directly onto your arms spotted with dirt and filled your whole body with warmth. Nothing was more peaceful than this. You took to work, crackling them out of their plastic pots, and digging at the earth in holes to hold them down. After a while, you felt the dew from the grass start to soak into your work-jeans, but it was a welcome little cool feeling. Next, you popped up to hose them down with your little attachment that made the water cascade like a rain-shower. You admired for a moment how the water would create little rainbows from the spray. 

“Ahem, uh-hi there!” 

You choked out a gasp before swinging around, aiming the hose like your sword to the startling voice. 

“STAY BACK!!’ 

You pointed the stream directly at them, only in your horror to see your neighbor, trademark cardigan and all, soaking wet from your weapon. 

“GOD! That’s cold.” 

The fabric hung onto him, adhering to every part of his body which was much more toned than you had expected.

Minho looked absolutely bewildered as the water dripped off his frame with sad little pat pat pats on the concrete sidewalk. 

“Oh God. Oh God. Minho, I’m so so sorry. I-I can’t believe that I keep doing this to you--” 

You nearly felt like crying, but for fear of embarrassing yourself further, you decided to turn around quickly in search of your rags. They were garden rags, but dry nonetheless. 

“Here, here, I-I think that these should help.” 

You dabbed at his body, although it was clear that this wasn’t helping in the slightest. 

“Stop, stop,” He pushed your hands away. “I just live next door, I’ll live being a little drenched.” 

“You realize that's an oxymoron right?” Your nervous hands continued dabbing. 

“A what??” Minho kindly laughed at your frantic hands. 

“It’s a...writing thing. Sorry...” 

“I really need to be careful around you don’t I?” 

Your mouth crinkled into a flustered line. “M’sorry.” 

“Can you quit apologizing?? Here, I came over to give you these, my mom made some extra side dishes so she wanted me to bring them over to you.” 

“Oh.” He handed you the little bundle of Tupperware containers. “Thanks.” 

“She also, or--I mean--I wanted to invite you over so that you could meet my cats...and! my mom. My mom too.” 

“You want me to come over?” 

“I did mention that I wanted to a little while ago didn’t I?” 

“Oh! You did...” 

“Does next Saturday work? Around 5?” 

“I-I can do five.” You brushed your muddied hand across your sweating brow. 

Minho scoffed, “You’ve...got something...on your...” 

“Oh! Oops.” You tried your best to wipe off the dirt, but you didn’t know you had only made it worse. 

Minho squeezed out his soaked sleeve to carefully raise it to your forehead. “Here, like this.” 

This close to you, his brown eyes deeply shone with the color of coffee, chocolate, the bark of forest trees after a spring rain, and a million other things that your writer brain could compare them to. 

“There. It’s all gone.” 

For a moment, you wondered if you really had fantasized him, or if he really was real. For you, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he was some kind of figment of your imagination: they usually were. 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

[1 missed call, Mom, 09:12] 

“Y/n are you there? Why is it that you never pick up your phone? I’ve told you so many times that you should pick up when I call. What if it’s an emergency? What if someone’s died?? Nevermind, I wanted to call and tell you my friend’s daughter is getting engaged and I’ve been invited to the bridal party. I think that you should come with. It’ll be good to get you out of that house. 

Why is it that you haven’t gotten yourself married yet? You know that you aren’t getting any younger?? Either way, call me back. You’ll need to bring a gift too. Its impolite to show up without a gift. 

Ah, I almost forgot. Your brother got a promotion at work; I’m not sure if he’s told you. We’ll be having dinner to celebrate this weekend. Can I count on you to be there? 

Also, how is the job search going? Your father has some more connections for you to speak to. You need to take advantage of every one of them. You’re so close to getting something that really matters. I can feel it. Ah, I just feel like you’re wasting away there sitting at that computer with those silly classes. It’s like, barely any contribution at all. You could be making so much more money. 

Anyway, call me back once you hear this. 

love you sweetie, talk soon. 

i know that its tuesday and i said I would publish on mondays shhh just pretend I published this yesterday ooP 

[beskarberry]

Valkyrie

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 4

(The Mandalorian x f!reader)

“What... did you... do?”  You hissed between clenched teeth. “Did you poison him?! Give me the antidote right now or so fucking help me I’ll tear every limb off your ugly little body!” You were seething, fear and fury stoking fire behind your eyes. The bounty only laughed harder.

“Antidote?There’s only one antidote for that one, sugar, and I sure hope you like him enough to give it to him! Bwahaha ha! Good luck!”

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 7.8k

Content warnings: Canon-typical violence, SEX POLLEN + rough sex, oral sex (m receiving) and kink talk (not gonna list all of them but they’re all very common.) There’s another filk song reference in this one that I’ll link in the replies.

A/N: VERY IMPORTANT TAG! The bounty uses she/her pronouns so if girl on girl violence makes you squeamish please read ahead with caution! Also know that I >>do not<< use any gender-specific slurs (b*tch, c*nt, etc.)

<-Previous Next->

Everything. Was. Purple.

Purple! The grass, the sky, the trees, if you could call them that. The pulsating, gelatinous towers that spiraled into the sky were definitely alive, but you weren’t sure if ‘tree’ was a fitting word for them. Their branches were long and hanging, weighed down by some kind of berry or fruit that glowed with teal streaks. Your next bounty was on a habitable moon orbiting an enormous gas giant that took up the entire skyline. It was lush with vegetation and sparsely populated, a perfect hideout for an Ardennian.

The Razor Crest was parked in a meadow of lavender grass, though once again you questioned your choice of words, watching the way the long wet leaves wiggled in the breeze. You breathed deep, letting the rich, humid air fill your lungs while your traveling companions followed behind you down the old ship’s ramp. Baby beans trotted right past you on stubby legs, picking things up off the ground that he probably shouldn’t be putting in his mouth, but was too sneaky for you to stop him from doing so. You heard the Crest’s access door shut, and turned to see Mando eagerly trotting along to join you.

No, not ‘Mando’... Din. Mr. Mystery finally had a name, though you were still conflicted about using it. The man had spilled so many secrets into you in such a short amount of time that the butterflies in your stomach were breeding many-legged worms. Squirming, creeping things that quickly metamorphosized back into their illustrious true selves, and you weren’t sure which part of their cycle was making you more nauseous. But they were your secrets to keep, your heart wearing his name like a locket; safely hidden where nobody but you could see.

You had slid the heavy beskar bucket back up the ladder to him while he stayed in the dark of the cockpit, the knowledge of his facial features still kept by your hands alone. The pair of you had then stood close together at the armory, him with his helmet back where it belonged and you with your bright eyed mask protecting your crown. At the equipment cache he couldn’t stop talking, pointing out and picking up a variety of weapons and traps that would work particularly well for this simian quarry. Everything had a story, and he told you all about the bounties he had pulled trophies off of, or things he had gotten as rewards for helping someone else. He’s giddy. You could only listen along as he prattled away, handing you grapple after snare until you had to start putting things back in the armory, just so you could have your hands free again.

Hands. Every time he gave you another tool of the trade to add to your ever-growing inventory his hands brushed somewhere on you. Leather tipped fingers glancing quickly on your wrist, a lingering palm on your shoulder; each fleeting touch lasting just slightly longer than the last. He was struggling to keep his hands off of you, reluctant to give up the intimacy you had both been working at in the void-black darkness of the flight deck before atmospheric reentry tore you both apart. What other prayers of devotion could he pour into you, if you’d just had a little more time? ‘You belong to them, that is The Way���. The oath he had made to you was followed coldly in your mind by another string of words, ‘I’m not asking you to do the same, you’re not Mandalorian’.

You couldn’t think about all the words that you still needed to unpack, it was hunting time. The six-limbed simian was wanted for, checks puck notes, chemical warfare. She had blasted her way to the Guild’s Most Wanted list by lobbing incendiary bombs and poison gas grenades through a meeting of outer rim parliament, and the price on her head might have been higher than yours. The bounty puck specifically stated she was to be taken alive. Super. The droid-face mask wasn’t going to be much protection for your lungs, but it might at least keep your eyes safe. You took time to pack extra bacta and some quality rations, plus one of your new bantha-wool blankets. You woke up that morning on Tatooine, and the voice of your tortured circadian rhythm wondered if you would be sleeping rugged tonight somewhere on this heliotropic hellscape.

A bounty fob blinked lazily from the larger hunter’s belt, indicating that the quarry was on-world, but not close enough to catch. The three of you would have some walking to do. The child tried to make friends with every wiggly thing, running on his short little legs from fern to fern, hunting for treats. The little beastie’s adopted father chased him through the grass, trying, and failing, to keep him from getting into trouble. The sight of the mighty metal man being defeated so easily by a baby made you laugh, and the sound of your melodic giggles drew his attention.

“What are you laughing at?”

Oh no, I’ve been caught!  “I’m laughing at you, rust bucket! The scariest person here isn’t either of us, it’s him!” You pointed to where the child was tearing through the reeds after some kind of amphibian, and started laughing harder when Mando cursed and flew after his impish son. The rowdy child had a frog-like creature hanging from his mouth that vanished the second his dad tried to pull it away.

“Stop eating things you find on the ground!” The baby only squealed at the scolding, earning himself a grumpy, papa-patented sigh. Mando picked up the potato-sack of a child and dumped him unceremoniously into the hover-crib that floated along behind. “You can get back out when you learn your lesson! I don’t want you to get sick.” The baby made huge, sad eyes up at his dad, but Mando turned away quickly to avoid their hypnotic powers. You were doing your best to hide your giggles, covering the part of your mask where your mouth was, as if that would help. The Mandalorian strode up to you with a swagger. “Oh, you think that’s funny, cyar’ika?”

“You don’t?” You caught your reflection in the black gloss of his visor as he sauntered up to you, and your bug-eyed doppelganger only made you laugh more. A wall of beskar stood in front of you, eyeing you with slow tilts of his helmet while you got it all out of your system. When your breaths returned to normal you looked down at your hands and found that they had made friends. You had reached out for him without even thinking, and you were a little embarrassed that they had gravitated to him so naturally. He squeezed your hands gently before letting them return to you, and you heard the songs of star-lost sailors whispering in the back of your mind. The nights are long between the stars, and lonely, too, for me. I wonder how I might have fared with home and family.

“Night’s coming fast, we should keep moving.” Hunting mode reactivated, your companion started towards the undulating wilderness. He wasn’t wrong, within a few hours the massive planet that hung above you drifted out of view, replaced with a sea of glittering stars. The foliage around you glowed with otherworldly colors, teals and violets splattering their dense leaves and curling down their jelly trunks. Their loveliness made it easy to distract yourself from the task at hand, your eyes chasing the occasional yellow and red flashes that blinked from insects high in the branches. Ahead of you a large old tree had fallen over, and between its trunk and its upturned roots the spot was easily defensible.

Mando busied himself with clearing squishy sticks and leaves from the area to make a campsite while you looked for something to start a fire with. Nothing looked burnable, everything had a gooey, wet consistency, but some dead leaves under the log were dried out. They would have to do. You made them into a neat pile and pushed some rocks in a circle around them for safety, now you would just need a light.

“Hey, tinman, I need some heat!” He followed your pointing finger with his helmet and waltzed over to you, happy to be of assistance. He started up his wrist mounted flamethrower and used the pilot light to set the tinder ablaze. Not even fire could escape the overwhelming purpleness of the estranged moon as the blaze kicked up a bright indigo with a low heat. You got to work getting dinner around, pulling savory Tatooine treats out of your pack, pushing some of them towards the heat source so they would be warm. At the bottom of your bag you found some soft, squashed thing, and pulled the remains of breakfast out into the light. It was mashed, but it was still probably edible. “Mando, you never ate your breakfast.”

“What?” He looked at the sad excuse for a meal that you were offering him, eyeing it with curiosity. “You got me breakfast?”

“Yes? I told you that I would, though I guess it’s dinner now. Here.” You waved it at him so he would get the hint, and he took it carefully from you with timid hands.

“T-thank you. You’re very kind.”

“And don’t you forget it!” You whooped with overwhelming confidence, but the sweet words made you blush under your mask. Before he could turn and leave the safety of the fire to find a private eating area you reached for his hand again, pulling the armored paw to your forehead and knocking it softly against your mask. Kov'nynir. A wistful sigh escaped his modulator, and you knew the act of affection was well received. He bent himself down to where you sat at the fire and pressed his own forehead against yours, rumbling with contentment. The gentle sound made your heart swell, such a simple gesture that carried so much meaning. A bounty hunter’s life was fast and dangerous, why should finding companionship be any different?

You pushed your heads together just a little harder before he pulled himself away from you to go eat. You lifted your own dinner and the baby’s from the hearth, poking at it with your fingers to make sure it wasn’t too hot for Mr. Green Beans to eat. The child took it from you eagerly, content in his protective pram and making gross little noises while he ate. The food tin you had was much better than day one’s menu: bantha meat and Tusken hardtack with a side of more mystery mush. Your partner chose to take his meal elsewhere, fading into the darkness behind the fallen log where he could remove his helmet and eat in peace. Someday he might make more sense to you. The clank! of an empty food tin hitting the ground brought your attention back to your campsite buddy, the baby having thrown his clean plate at you.

“What’s wrong, booger? You bored? Alright.” There was a tiny bit of energy still left in your bones, and what better way to spend it than entertaining your precious audience. You pulled yourself to your feet, taking a moment to dust the spores from your pants and pull your backpack on before launching into song.

“When we pulled into Naboo’s Port in need of R&R,

The crew set out investigating every joint and bar.

We had high expectations of their hospitality,

But found too late it wasn't geared for spacers such as we!”

“And we're banned from Naboo, everyone!

Banned from Naboo, just for having a little fun!

We spent a jolly shore leave there for just three days or four,

But Naboo doesn't want us anymore!”

Green baby hands tried their best to clap in time with your sailor song, accompanied by adorable cooing noises while he tried to sing along. Your rambunctiousness summoned Mando back over to the fire, and he sat down on a large rock next to his foundling, watching you through his visor as you danced around the fire with flailing limbs.

“Our Engineer would yield to none at putting down the brew;

She outdrank seven space marines and a demolition crew!

The Navigator didn't win, but he out-drank almost all,

And now they've got a shuttlecraft on the roof of City Hall!”

You ran through the chorus again, taking a second to notice that tinman was tapping his foot to the beat along with you. You wondered briefly if they ever sang on Mandalore. You took a deep breath to continue-

“-KABOOM-!”

The fireside exploded just meters from your spinning dance, and you were hauled backwards to safety by your oathsworn protector,along with his foundling, and ushered towards the safety of the trees.

“-BOOM! Ba-BOOM! KERPLOW-!”

Trees and plants exploded on either side of you as you ran through the luminous dark. The Ardennian! Neither of you had been paying attention to the bounty fob, blinking fast and red under his cloak. Above you the sound of something swinging through the branches caught your ear, and you pulled your blaster and fired behind you.

“Bwahaha! Missed me missed me now you gotta kiss me, two-arms!” You couldn’t see her, but her taunts gave you a better idea of her position, firing several more shots towards their source. You knew you had to take her alive, but that didn’t mean intact.

“Go go go!” Mando was at your back, doing his best human shield impression while he hurried you away from the bombardment, the child’s bulky pram tucked uncomfortably under one arm. Your flight through the forest was haunted with vicious cackling and the sound of serene foliage being obliterated by the explosives that rained down around you, choking you with incendiary fumes.

A clearing materialized ahead, and the three of you rushed out from under the unmerciful trees. When you had gotten far enough from the tree line you both turned your eyes to the canopy.

“There!” Picking up her heat signature on his visor’s infrared sensors, he pointed to your target, his other arm still occupied with protecting the foundling. You grabbed the barrel of the pulse rife that was still slung over his shoulder, aimed, and fired. The ball of electricity arced from your little trio and collided with the trees, the sound of pained screams and crashes followed the wounded pyromaniac as she fell hard to the ground. Bullseye.

”Stay here, Mando, I got this! Keep him safe!” You stormed into the woods after the sounds of distress, snare at the ready to take the bounty alive. You were angry, rage powering your stride as you chased after her like a Corellian tracking hound. Angry that your sweet moment had been ruined, angry that she’d put the foundling in danger, angry that your partner had been pulled from the comfort of the fire to fulfill his duties as guardian. You sprang over roots and fallen branches, catching the sight of movement where the Ardennian was making a run for it. 

“Oh no you don’t! Get back here!”  Your words boiled with so much fury that they almost weren’t your own. Balls of fire exploded around you in a last ditch effort by the primate to kill you first. You dropped a knee into the loamy soil to steady your shot.

Woosh! The net sailed past her by mere inches, and you flew to your feet to begin the chase again.

“Ha! Grow some more arms and maybe you’ll have better aim!”  Fire erupted around you again, but the flames that seared at your eyes came from inside, burning with fuel siphoned from your heart. You took another shot.

Woosh! Miss! FUCK. You had one shot left on the snare-slinger, and you had to make it count. The trees were thinner here, how long had you been running? The simian was struggling to get away now, the long slimy branches too far apart to swing through. Behind you the sound of thunderous armored boots told you that Mando was hot on your trail, and you were glad to have the back up even though you had specifically told him to stay put. Nobody listens in this crew. Something green and gaseous poofed next to you, and the terms of the bounty puck came back to you clear as day: chemical warfare. The Ardennian was out of bombs and had switched to gas canisters, hurling a variety of brightly colored poisons at your face. Third time’s the charm.

Woosh! The net flew true, tangling in the many limbs of the fleeing quarry and throwing her to the ground. Gotcha! You bore down on her as brightly glowing vials sailed over your head, landing on something behind you with a crash! You were on her in an instant, shoving a blaster in her face.

“You’re done, chuckles! It’s over!” The fear in her eyes vanished as quickly as it had appeared when she glanced back behind you.

“Ha! I don’t think so, stinky. You’re gonna have yer hands too full with that to deal with little old me.” You followed her gaze, and froze from the ice crystalizing in your veins. Mando stood a ways back, still as a statue. Bright neon pink goo slimed its way down his helmet and dripped onto his chest plate. You turned on the Ardennian again.

“What... did you... do?”  You hissed between clenched teeth. “Did you poison him?! Give me the antidote right now or so fucking help me I’ll tear every limb off your ugly little body!” You were seething, fear and fury stoking fire behind your eyes. The bounty only laughed harder.

“Antidote? There’s only one antidote for that one, sugar, and I sure hope you like him enough to give it to him! Bwahaha ha! Good luck!” She was howling with laughter in your grasp, and the sound of her mirth was like nails on chalkboard to your ears. You practically threw her to the ground, running back to your incapacitated partner. He hadn’t moved a muscle.

“Mando! Hey hey can you hear me? Tell me what’s wrong!” The glowing pink slime was still on his helmet, and you hunted for something to wipe it off with. The closest thing was his cloak, so you reached for it and went to clean the pretty pink sludge from his helmet when an armored claw shot up and caught your wrist. The action startled you, but you were happy to see him still able to move. “Mando? You ok?” Slowly, with almost robotic precision, he turned his gaze to you.

“Cyar...’ika....?” His words were long and labored, the strain of them sending a chill through your bones.

“Yes! It’s me, Mando. I’m right here, I’m gonna get you taken care of. I- I’ll find some bacta or-” Your words were cut off by another wicked claw on your shoulder.

“So... Beautiful...”  The lustful words made the gears in your head grind to a halt. Really? Right now?

“Ok great, glad to see you’re fine, now can we get back to hunt-” He cut you off with a hand at your throat.

“Beautiful.. and mouthy. So... fucking... mouthy.” A leather tipped hand snaked up your neck to your lips, grabbing at your jaw and pushing a thumb in past your teeth. You tried to spit him out but his other hand latched on to the back of your skull. “I’m going to put that mouth to good use, mesh’la.”  Your mask was tossed to the ground, and the ‘good luck’ the Ardennian had wished you now made sense. Whatever was oozing down the front of his helmet was driving him into an uncontrolled sexual frenzy, and you were the sole outlet for all his desires.

“Mando! -Blech-! Man- Din!” He stopped trying to get down your throat at the sound of his own name, hearing it for the first time from your lips. “Din! We don’t have time for this right now! Get a grip!” Oh, but he already had a grip, and it was tightening on your scalp.

“That’s right, sweetheart, say my name.”  The command dripped from his modulator the same way the poison dripped down his face, and he started walking you backwards by the hair until you bumped against a squishy tree. The change of emotion from rage to fear to confusion made your head spin, and the new contending feeling of heat building in your guts was making itself known.

“Knock it off! Fucking hell, she’s going to get away if we don’t do something right now! ”

“Let her. You’re the only one I want.” The weight of his arms on your neck and shoulders became too much, and the man who you had shared a such a sweet moment with not too long ago was now forcing you to your knees. You dropped to a kneel, and your face was hard pressed up against the solid bulge that was trying to rip its way out of his pants. He took only a second to free himself, pushing his throbbing cock against your teeth. “Open wide.”

You wished you were meeting with mini-mando under better circumstances, but if getting him off would get you back to the hunt, you were happy to help. The taste of him on your tongue sent electricity through your body, spooling up fresh heat between your own legs. Above you Mando was making deep, guttural groans as you took his cock all the way to the back of your throat, wrapping a fist around where you couldn’t reach without gagging. You glanced around his leg to where you could see the hover-crib, floating a good distance away with the shield closed tight. Good, he doesn’t need to see this. A swift thrust brought your attention back to where it was demanded.

“That’s a good girl, take it all in. Let me make a mess of that pretty little mouth of yours.” He had a death grip on the back of your hair and the side of your jaw, pushing up to keep you open enough to take his length. Inside you were swirling your tongue around the tip every time it slid past, making sultry praises flood from his modulator. Most of the words were garbled, raunchy and alien, probably Mando’a. Spit leaked from the sides of your mouth, making good on his word to make a mess of you. The claws in your hair pulled tight, forcing your nose into the tuft of soft hair at his base so he could pump your throat full of cum without you escaping. “Ahh~! That’s it, mesh’la, drink it all down.”

The hot spunk made you choke and gag, tears rushing to your eyes, but you still swallowed as best you could. When he finally let you pull away you gasped for air, coughing on the ground at his feet.

“There! *cough!* is that... -blech-, better? Can you hunt now? Are you done?” The potionmaster was probably long gone, you couldn’t hear her fucking cackling anymore.

“Cyar’ika, we’re not done until I say we’re done.” The spear at your cheek was still hard as beskar, ready for round two. The armored man yanked you to your feet, shoving you face first towards the nearest tree. The tree’s flesh was soft and squishy, a fact you would be grateful for soon enough. Your hips were pulled backwards, and a buzzing sound told you he had pulled a vibroblade from his belt, stabbing under your pants’ edge and pulling down the crack of your ass until your clothes were cut away; leaving just the legs and your boots to protect you. The cold air hitting your cunt gave away your arousal, and he zoned in on it like a falcon, pressing still-gloved fingers to your wet slit. The roughness of the leather invading you made you cry out and your knees buckle, squirming under the intrusion of one finger, then two; pumping in and out of you to stoke your flame.

“You’re so pretty. So fucking pretty, and strong. I’m gonna lose myself in you, fierce little thing, and I never want to be found.” His hands ripped away from your swollen cunt, and the head of his cock was pressed to its lips. Both of you made delicious, filthy noises as he buried himself to the hilt, the slick of his own cum making a wonderful lube. “Fuuuuuck, you’re hot inside, lovely girl. My cock was made just for you.” He barely made it a few inches out of you before he was slamming back into you again. The force of him behind you smashed you face into the soft, forgiving tree, though you wished you could find somewhere for your hands to grab hold. He fucked you like a man possessed, and you were sure there would be bruises on your hips and thighs when he was finished.

His mouth ran like surging lava. “Fucking.. Maker... beautiful girl, beautiful hunter! Hunter-killer! I knew you would be a challenge to hunt, but I never thought you would be the one to capture me! You’re a work of art on the killing field! Mmph! You are mine and I’m going to fill your belly with my warriors ‘til you’re fit to burst. They’ll be so ferocious! Born with daggers in their teeth.” Vulgar words between thrusts made your entire body hot with a mix of embarrassment and lust. You might never know if the neon goo had given him the desire to breed you, or if he adored you so much that he wanted more of you to care for, but you did know your contraceptive implant would be having none of it either way. Still, his damning words flowed. “Nobody will ever put their hands on you again but me. I’ll give you everything you desire, cyar’ika, anything you ask for will be yours. I’ll bring the stars down from the sky if you ask me to! I- I’ll- I’m gonna...”

The Mandalorian stilled behind you, twitching as his cock spilled into you and ran hot down your thighs. His breaths were gasping, broken and desperate for air. His fingers digging into the soft skin on your hips would leave their mark for sure, and though he’d done a fantastic job of scrambling your insides you still felt warmth in your chest. Even in his poisoned, delirious state of mind, all of his thoughts were of you alone. The grip on your ass loosened, and the sound of a heavy thud hitting the ground told you he had fallen down into the soft purple grass. You struggled to peel your face from the jelly tree, standing like a newborn fawn on shaky legs. The bright pink streak on his helmet had lost all its glow, and your human rust-bucket was slumped over on his side, still as the grave. Not again, fucksake. You clambered over to him, digging under his cloak with your hands until you found his pulse. Still alive.

“Alright Mando, fucking stay here this time like I told you to.” You glanced around the meadow, but the Ardennian was nowhere to be found. Fuck! All that work for nothing. You groaned, looking down at what was left of your pants. You checked all the pockets, finding your lucky krayt teeth and a bacta patch before kicking the ruined fabric off over your boots. You dropped down to the spent form of your comrade, tilting his helmet up and slapping the bacta patch on one of the hickies you had left there a few days ago. You took a moment to stuff the teeth into one of his many pouches since you no longer had pockets of your own. With your ass in the wind you made your way over to the floating pram to check on your tiny pal. “Hey beans, you doing ok? Your dad and I were just having a little-” you spun the cradle around. Empty.

“No! Fuck! Fuck fuck FUCK!” The bounty had made off with Din’s infant son, your little buddy! You couldn’t stop the fear that dried your throat and brought tears to your eyes. Get a hold of yourself! Find him! NOW! Familiar rage welled up behind your eyes, and you raced back over to your unconscious guardian, still laying in the dirt and making it extra difficult to untangle the pulse rifle still slung over his back. Your hunting instincts were on high alert, and the sound of shouting caught your ears. “I’m gonna get him back, Din! Just... just fucking stay here!”

You tore off after the noise, every horrible scenario running through your head at once. Would she steal him? Would she hurt him? Would she kill him? Rage flared hot in your chest and threatened to burn you alive, your feverish skin icy with sweat. Wet leaves slapped past your bare knees so fast that their thin edges left vicious paper cuts. You didn’t care, nothing else mattered but the foundling. The sound of shouting grew louder, and you thundered though the trees to another clearing by a narrow wine-dark stream. 

“Help! This thing’s got me! Get me down, please! Get it away from me!” The simian terror was hanging in the air ahead of you. No, not hanging, floating. She was thrashing her arms, but all that did was slowly spin her in place. The sight was magical, but more important was the safety of child. On the ground near her, he stood with one fat little paw in the air, pointing at his abductor and concentrating with all his might. You didn’t know how he had escaped, or what the actual fuck he was doing, but you didn’t hesitate. You pulled the pulse rifle from your back and fired, once, twice, three times until her limp body was hanging in the air, knocked out cold. Or dead.

Baby beans crumpled to the ground, and the Ardennian followed suit, the ugly noise she made when she hit the ground brought a wicked smile to your cheeks. The baby’s little eyes were bleary and tired under his big droopy ears, and you scooped him carefully up off the ground to pull him in for a good, strong hug.

“Did you get the mean lady, sweetie? Good job! I don’t know what the fuck you did but hey, no questions asked, alright? I’m just glad you’re ok.” He smiled up at you with his tiny toothy grin before conking out in your arms, leaning heavily against your chest. You set him back down on the ground, just long enough to tie that six limbed asshole up tight, using everything you still had above the waist to keep her captured. You tied her arms to her feet and slung her limp body over you like a rucksack, then picked the foundling back up. With your bounty, baby, and bare ass you started the hike back to your fallen man.

Mando still laid where you had left him on his side, and you were annoyed to realize that, out of everybody involved, you were the only one left awake. Fantastic. You returned the baby to his floating bucket, pulling it closer to the pair of you this time, and dumped the Ardennian in the dirt. There was no way you could maneuver three bodies at once, somebody was going to have to get up and walk.

“Mando! Mando get up, we gotta go.” The man in question didn’t budge, soft, muffled snores your only response. You tried everything you could think of, pulling on his hands and legs and shouting, anything to wake his ass up. You knocked on his helmet, “Ground control to Major Mando, time to get up! Rise and shine, bucket boy!” Nothing, he was going to have to sleep the after-effects of the potion off, so he was staying right where he was.

You had no idea how far you had gotten from the campsite, and the cold night air on your bare booty made you remember your half-nakedness. On the ground scattered around the pile of living beskar was your backpack and the remains of your pants, along with the rest of your trap gear. Start packing more clothes. You went for the gear first, pulling another set of cuffs and a good strong rope out, and added a few more knots to the half-dead quarry so she wouldn’t be pulling any bullshit in the night. The backpack still had the bantha-wool blanket wrapped up tight, and you tied it around yourself like a skirt. Better than nothing.

Kneeling on the ground next to your Mandalorian, you cleared yourself a space to sit down, taking an extra second to make sure all his bits were tucked back out of view. You leaned back against the crook of his hips, feeling the slow rise and fall of his belly at your back. You were so tired, how many times had you been on the run in the last cycle alone? Your body desperately craved sleep, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the bounty. Anger crept its way back into your eyes again, and you wanted to take it out on her, channel your inner rancor. No, she’s already lost. Go to sleep.

But the merciful tug of sleep didn’t come, and when you realized why you felt foolish. The child’s pram was on the ground where you had pushed it next to his fathers’ armored head. He was sleeping like a little prince, and didn’t move at all when you pulled him out of the crib. When he was situated in your arms you pulled Mando’s cloak around the three of you for extra warmth. Sitting upright was a horrible way to sleep, but with the baby safely in your arms and a blaster at your side, you were able to catch a handful of winks.

You woke up many times that night, worried that something might happen to your baby or your partner, and each time your eyes shot open you glared at the dark form in the grass; though not once did it move. Still, you didn’t trust that you were safe, and only when the rim of the planet that dominated the sky drifted over the horizon could you actually keep your eyes closed. But the blissful comfort of real sleep was torn from you by your lounge chair trying to get up on its own. The rush from trying to sit up too fast knocked Mando right back down on his back, and his hands went to his armored temples to try to stop the world from spinning.

“What...where am... where’s....” He shot up like a bolt of lightning “WHERE’S MY SON?!”

“Right here!” You turned yourself to show the bug-eyed bundle to his father, letting him see that the child was safe. Mando wrapped his arms around you and the child, and you could hear his quick, shuddering breaths coming out from under the helmet. The hug was tight, a comforting fortress around your shoulders.

“Are you ok? What happened? Why are we in the grass? Where’s the bounty? Did she get away?” His questions gushed like a river, urgent and frightened. You pointed at where the Ardennian was still on the ground, far enough away that she was out of earshot. She was awake now, but still immobilized. Her eyes were fixed on you, and you could see the edges of her mouth turning upwards into a snarl to bare her teeth. Din’s hands were all over you, inspecting you for damage, and his breath caught in his throat when he reached your waist. Big, ugly red and purple fingerprints were swelling up between the scrapes on your skin, and he pushed the edge of your makeshift skirt down to follow their horrifying trail; they were everywhere.

“Who did this to you?”  The volcano behind the beskar threatened to erupt with molten malevolence, “Did she do this to you?”

“No Mando,” you sighed, a little hurt that he didn’t remember. “You did.” The wall of metal armor went stiff as a rail, his visor locked on your eyes, looking for the truth. But the truth was right in front of him, and he couldn’t accept it.

“What? N-no.. I would never... I could never hurt you, cyar’ika! Please... please tell me that I didn’t do this.” His fingers ghosted over your marks, but never touched them, his hands afraid of dealing more damage to your lovely skin. “I-I couldn’t have... I’m... I’m so sorr-” You cut him off with a hand on his helmet where his mouth might be.

“It’s not your fault, you were poisoned. I’m just glad you’re alive, Din.” The sound of his own name made his shoulders droop and his hands come up cradle your cheeks. You couldn’t meet his visor, the closeness of the distraught hunter making you flustered, so you tried to crack a joke. “I’m just glad you wanted to fuck me instead of the Ardennian.” The way his helmet snapped backwards made you realize he didn’t remember that part either. “Oh don’t look at me like that, I took it like a champ! You’re gonna have to do better than bruises to hurt this mighty hunter!” Your attempted words of comfort didn’t seem to work, and he pulled you and the wiggly child back to his chest in a world-erasing hug.

“Please just tell me you know I wouldn’t do this to you on purpose, I never want to hurt you again. Please.”

“Mando! I’m fine, really.” He held your head firmly, the blackness of the visor trying to bore though your very soul. You nodded in his grasp, “I know you didn’t, it’s alright, Din. I forgive you.” The force of his helmet knocking against your forehead almost made you see stars. His hands were wrapped around your head, holding you as close as he could in the intimate gesture of his people. You didn’t blame him at all for what happened, but it would be a while, if ever, before he could forgive himself.

“Oh isn’t that puke. Spare me the lovey-dovey crap and take me back to the Guild already! Buncha bucketheads.” You didn’t want to address the Ardennian that hollered at you from from the grass, but the beskar bucket turned on her in a heartbeat. He sprang to his feet in a flash, pulling the pulse rife from the ground and firing, stunning the target for the fourth time, fifth time, sixth, seventh.

He’s gonna kill her. You grabbed at his arm, demanding his attention “Mando, you got her, it’s over! It’s done.” Stance wide and chest heaving, the barrel of the long rifle stayed trained on the bounty for what seemed like an eternity before being lowered back to the ground. “Good, good, see, everyone’s ok. Let’s get back to the Crest and get out of here, sound like a plan?” He nodded, still watching the limp-again simian for signs of movement. When he was sure there wouldn’t be any more argument he stalked over to the quarry and slung her over his shoulder, ready to make the long march back to the ship. You set the baby back in his pram so you could take a second to grab everything off the ground, making sure you had your pack and your mask, and followed Mando back through the woods.

After hours of silent hiking, the Razor Crest came into view, and you had never been so happy to see the old girl, pretty as a plum in the violet haze. Once everyone was aboard, the fog of the carbonite chamber filled the tiny cabin to the brim, and left a new dark block in its wake. The Ardennian’s body was limp, though thankfully still alive; but the mischievous sneer couldn’t be erased so easily. You took a deep breath, sighing with relief that this hunt was over. Two down, one to go. Then Nevarro.

Your Mandalorian hadn’t spoken to you the entire trek back to the ship, and he was distracting himself by placing all the weaponry back in their spots in the cabinet. He’s still upset with himself. You still wore the bantha-blanket skirt, and its soft edges swished around your ankles. Gently you placed your hand on his shoulder, and he jumped violently under your touch as he was brought back to the present.

“You know I’m not mad at you, right?” He didn’t meet your eyes, but his hands stopped fussing with the armory. “Really, Din, I don’t blame you at all. I’m ok.” You tugged on his waist, bidding him to turn and face you, but still he couldn’t lift his eyes from the floor. You ran your hands from his shoulders down his chest, trying to bring him comfort with your touch, but when you saw his utility belt you remembered what was in his pockets. A flashbulb of an idea lit up in your skull, and clear as day the reason for your frivolous purchase on Tatooine made itself known. “You know what, I’m so not-mad at you that I have a present for you.” You grabbed his belt to dig through the pouches, but strong hands shot up to carefully take your wrists.

“Mesh’la no! Not after.. not after I- I can’t. I don’t deserve your affections.” Your eyes met his visor, its gaze no longer staring down at the floor and instead watching you with intensity. A smile broke it’s way out past your teeth, followed by a knowing laugh.

“No, that’s not what I meant, good thought though. No, Mand-...Din. Din, I have a gift for you.”  He hesitated to release your arms, but when you were free of his delicate hold you went back to the pockets on his belt and pulled the opalized krayt teeth from one of the pouches. Your companion’s visor followed the glittering treasures as they were brought into the light, and you wished you could see his bewildered face under the beskar. You handed them to him, and he carefully turned them over in his palm, letting the fossils catch the light and revealing their intricate patterns. His helmet tilted slowly, baffled that such beautiful things could be pulled from anywhere on his body, but the way his beskar sent streaks of light over his armor gave you a fantastic new idea.

Taking the treasures back from him you unscrewed the button fasteners that protruded from their backs, revealing the small, strong magnets hidden underneath; and pressed them up to his helmet. The teeth fit perfectly in the recesses of his cheeks, like they had been made just for him; and though you knew hunters didn’t wear adornments, they still looked lovely. “I know you can’t keep them on, especially when we go hunt, but they still look nice on you. Now you get to be my lucky charm.” His soft leather fingertips rubbed gently at his cheeks, feeling the way the indents had been filled with the precious jewels. The ship didn’t have any mirrors, and he would have to see how the swirling pools of crystalized moonlight looked the next time he took his helmet off. 

Wordlessly he reached out for you, taking your face in his hands and pulling your head to his so he could press your foreheads together. You were becoming fond of the mysterious gesture, letting the butterflies in your stomach stretch their iridescent wings and fan contentment into your heart. You pushed back against him, wrapping your own arms around his shoulders, locking his helmet to you. The whole galaxy could fly apart at the seams and you knew you would be alright, as long as you were right where you were, shielded in your Mandalorian’s embrace. I wonder if he feels the same. Tiny claws on your leg pulled your attention to the floor, and you were overjoyed to see big black orbs staring up at you.

“Little Beans! C’mere you, get in on this.” You hauled the foundling up between your bodies, letting him get a good look at you and his father. He chirped away, happily patting his papa’s fancy new trinkets, mesmerized by their shine. The little creature was full of energy, but you had been on your last leg for hours and you couldn’t stifle your yawns any longer. “Boys, I can’t keep this up anymore, you’re both awful cute, but I need sleep.”

“Of course, cyare, you’ve earned it.” Mando reluctantly stepped away from you and rolled out the Tusken sleeping mat that you had purchased. It was much thicker than the sheet originally on the little cot, and a hundred times more forgiving. You were comfy in seconds, and the warm embrace of sleep started pulling on your limbs and shutting your eyes. A different touch was on your arm, and you lazily opened one eye to see an armored hand pulling the bantha blankie up snug around you. Sweet, thoughtful murder-machine is what you had thought of him that first day, and the stupid pet name made you chuckle.

“What does that mean? That word, sire-eeka or sigh-air, they’re Mando’a, right?” You wouldn’t let sleep win you over without a fight, even if it was a fight you wanted to lose.

“Cyar’ika. The closest translation in Basic would be sweetheart, or darling.” Here we go again with Mando’a 101.

“Sweetheart, huh? Pfft... sounds like you like me or something. What’s the other word mean? You’ve never used it before now.” He sighed, long and tired, and you could see the foundling on his lap, still enthralled with the glittering opal on his fathers' metal face.

“I...I don’t know how to translate that one, but it’s more than cyar’ika, stronger, with more depth.” Something about his posture told you he might be lying, he knew exactly how to translate that word, but he wasn’t ready to tell it to you. He might, though, when he was ready.

“Alright, tin man, if you say so.” Your eyes finally let themselves close all the way, but even in the darkness behind your lids your devious hands still found their way to him, giving his hand a good squeeze. “Teach me more someday?”

“For you, ner cyare’se,” Your hand was pulled up from the blankets until the backs of your knuckles rested on the cool beskar of his brow, “I’d bring you the stars down from the sky, if you asked me to.”

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[scrawnytreedemon]

if you've got any, talk abt your headcanon for hollow and affection!?

Ohohohooooo!!!! You have UNLEASHED ME!!!

I'll try and put my own spin on this, as I feel everyone and their mum has largely the same idea of how Hollow expresses affection(which is to say, Baby Need And Want Hug)

As sweet as it is, I don't think Hollow would take to affection right away. To say they've been neglected all their life would be an understatement. Maybe they got some coddling as a very little child, but in the same way one would play with a doll. Learning that certain gestures aren't just Very Unusual Threats and that they're genuinely safe would take a good while, especially with the other healing needed from being a vessel for a dying Light god.

I absolutely ADORE the headcanon that vessels purr n shit, but not too long ago I saw a post suggesting that their "noises" would actually be a lack of sound??? And I thought that was???? The tightest shit??? But also we're going post!Infection Hollow, and for that I headcanon they were given Her voice-- Either way! Some form of purring and chirruping, voiced or un-voiced!

Once they get used to it, I think Hollow would be big on hugs and other tactile forms of affections-- Perhaps a little too much so, collapsing on people they've barely methddkjkjhdfjkhfdkjdfkjdkj

While I'm not sure if this is very in-character, I'm absolutely weak for the idea that Hollow clutches Knight close anytime they can because they're scared of losing them again-- Which leads to many scenarios where Hollow's just slumped on top of them and Knight is squirming wildly because they're a Dignified Preteen Saviour of Hallownest who wants to run petty errands Very Important Business. The guilt and shame they feel for leaving them behind is overwhelming, and so they overcompensate-- That, and they themselves have just been through something horrific --So it swings both ways, in that sense.

Both them and Hornet would be wary, at first. We have everything aformentioned for Hollow, and the fact that Hornet grew up During The Apocalypse And The Hellscape After and that part of her duty was cutting down any of the vessels that made it out of the Abyss. That, and the long-buried memories. Just... vague, blurry splotches of colour flared with soft white light racing in slow motion down halls No Longer There. Did they even meet? Once things warm up, though, and after the initial fussing is over-with, I think Hollow would be someone Hornet could genuinely settle down with and be on equal footing-- Be the Slightly Older Sibling they both fancy they might've been, had things been different.

Hollow would get along quite nicely with Elderbug :) It'd be a love-language of gifts between neighbours, and words of advice. He may not be close to them like their family and loved ones, but he's near, and they're always glad to pop by and chat. Their garden's brimming with the buds born from that one, glowing white bloom he gifted them, long agao when they first arrived.

It isn't long before Bretta realises she has butterflies again-- Or lumaflies, of whatever it is she wants over and done with! She's not ready for any of this. Everything's gone by too quick and she wants her heart to still. But it doesn't; and it doesn't help that Hollow is keen on escorting her home after their walks. Agh... No, no, no, no, they don't mean it like that-- And even if they did, Bretta would tell them now's not the time! And yet... the flowers they gifted her the other day sit so sweetly in the vase by the windowsill; glowing. Maybe she'll try, one more time.

They dream of Her. She's long dead, but they dream of Her. Hornet was scared shitless and so was everyone else until someone more reasonable less broken came by and told them it was normal for things like these to linger even when they're long gone. They dream of Her. She's radiant as ever. She's awful-- So worthy of worship and every ounce of their attention. They can't help but stare; even as their eyes burn like acid's been thrown in. She's glorious. Glorious. And it's awful. She's awful. They're awful. Their mind is theirs now but it's so empty; like She'd moved out and taken all Her things with Her. She was awful. They're glad it's over. Glad it's over but aching so much because She was the one thing glueing them together this whole time.

(Thank you as always, Thrill, for chipping in <3 always glad to see you :))

[rift-cryptid]

Rifts and Those Who Walk Among Them

They say that when a rift is formed between worlds, a rift-walker will fix it. Seal the tear and return those who do not belong to where they should be.

-----

No one knows where they come from, the folk-tales only hold so much information. Every world has a point in which the fabric that holds it together is the weakest, leading to tears between worlds. No one is quite sure how they are sealed, many believe them to be unfixable, but there are a select few who hold the power to walk between worlds and seal these tears of the universe.

-----

No one who lives has ever seen any of the ones who walk the rifts, but the stories exist nonetheless. Each one is different, each one had a different home, but when they fled those unwelcome homes, the rifts welcomed them and gave them a place to call home.

-----

Throughout the base a blaring siren could be heard, followed by this announcement, “A subject has escaped, repeat a subject has escaped.”

The sounds of bare feet running through empty halls can be heard moving throughout this facility followed closely by those in combat boots. In front of a small, grey haired child with white wings for ears lies an emergency exit, they quickly push the door open and seal it behind themself. They now rest upon a fire escape, and the sound of the security force are coming ever closer. The child makes the impulsive decision to climb off the fire escape. They unfortunately lose their grip and fall off of it. But before they hit the ground a small rift opens below them, swirling with stars as far as the eye can see. It seals itself right as the security team opens the door to search for the child- no experiment that they were sent to retrieve, as the scientists did not wish to lose such a valuable chaos subject as the child.

-----

They say if you have found yourself in an unfortunate situation and call out for someone to help you, they say the winged one will hear your cries and offer you aid. They say that the winged one fights with some kind of magic, one which needs no other conduit other than yourself to perform. They say that the winged one is a guardian angel.

-----

It's been years, and this is the first time that she can finally return to her old home (if you can call it that; the hellscape of a laboratory that she spent over 8 years in.) She steps foot out in a jungle, one with no signs of human life nearby. 

She begins their walk through the forest, leading them to the abandoned facility that she had to once call home. It’s been overrun by vines and countless wildlife, without humans to maintain it, it falls apart. She enters the old abandoned building, in search of something, but alas, she does not get far before she must leave, as the sound of a wall collapsing can be heard from the outside of the old building. She quickly makes their way out, leaping from an all too familiar fire escape as the building crumbles down, demolished by a wrecking crew.

-----

They say the winged one is from the home of chaos, the ones who defy the rules of the universe. They say that if there is one place you must not travel, it is to go there.

-----

Upon an encounter with a stranger in a top hat, she is asked a question, “What is your name?”

She does not know how to answer this question, she has never been asked for one before.She was never given any term to identify themself other than RW-001, and she knows that what many call their duty is that of a rift-walker, but she is unsure if their title will be enough to satisfy this stranger. In the end, she looks away unsure how to respond to the question, their wings drooping with their mood.

The stranger looks on in confusion, before coming to the understanding that this one who helped them is nameless and sees that they have never been given a proper name. Unfortunately, before the stranger could offer help to the girl(?) they both had to flee, as the government was closing in upon them.

-----

They say that those who walk the rifts are nameless, as those who can remember them, can be used against them.

-----

Upon an encounter with a new stranger, one who has snow white hair and speaks with hand signs, she is asked if there is something that she is after. She shakes her head, but not before this new stranger gives them his name, Henry Stickmin. They both flee not long after, as one is wanted by the government, the other by the CCC.

-----

They say that the winged one cannot help you if faced with those who dress in blue, they will only hide from them, why is not known.

-----

After many more encounters with those of their homeworld, she has finally figured out what a name is and what it’s meant to be to someone. She thinks she has chosen their name well, it is of their present and future, pushing away the tormented memories of their past.

The next time she was asked for their name, they would answer with, “Rift. My name is Rift. It’s nice to meet you.”

-----

They say that the winged one is the only one with a name, they say that she is the friendliest of those who walk the rifts. They say if you befriend them, she will grant you kindness if you do the same for them.

[dovebuffy92]

https://www.fanbolt.com/115324/lucifer-season-6-review/

The television series Lucifer developed by Tom Kapinos receives a bittersweet ending in Season 6.

First, there are beautiful moments like Mazikeen’s “Maze” (Lesley-Ann Brandt) and Eve’s (Inbar Lavi) wedding. Then there are bitter moments; for example, Lucifer Morningstar (Tom Ellis) returning to Hell, leaving behind his family, including the love of his life, former Detective Chloe Decker (Lauren German), and stepchild Trixie Espinoza (Scarlett Estevez).

In all, Lucifer Season 6 is a mixed bag but the perfect ending for the main character.

Maze and Trixie

Maze and Trixie’s friendship is only slightly referenced in the final season, erasing the relationship that helped the demon evolve. In Lucifer Season Two Episode “Trick or Treat?”, Maze created a President of Mars costume for the then eight-year-old. Trixie’s dream career is to be President of Mars, which she told Maze about in the first season.

Trixie also accepted Maze, even with her full demon face on during Halloween. For a long time, the only person the demon truly liked on Earth was Trixie. Maze taught her how to fight when she was babysitting. She took Trixie’s advice about important issues. The two are best friends. But after the third season, Maze and now thirteen-year-old Trixie are barely on screen together.

This season, the only reference to their close bond is Trixie telling her secret angel sister Rory (Brianna Hildebrand) that she is Maze’s best friend. Maze and Trixie also gesture to each other when the demon bride walks down the aisle.

I understand that as a recurring character, Trixie can’t interact with everybody, and there have been fewer episodes to play with since the show moved to Netflix. Still, I wish Kapinos and the writers could have ended the show with Trixie advising Maze on her wedding jitters or a sparring session.

Lucifer Season 6 Explores Different Visual Aesthetics

Lucifer Season 6 explores different visual aesthetics, easing tension-filled moments in the plot. The best example is in “Yabba Dabba Do Me,” where animation brings humor to a serious quest. Lucifer believes that he will feel ready to become God when he can help somebody he hates. He and Chloe fly down to Hell to help the murderer Jimmy Barnes (John Pankow) from Lucifer’s pilot episode.

Before opening a portal door, Lucifer warns his girlfriend that Jimmy’s hellscape will be horrific because he drove the music producer insane. Instead, the couple enters a Hanna-Barbera-style cartoon universe. Both Lucifer and Chloe turn into cartoons with no genitals and eyes that can bounce out of their sockets.

Now, the old-fashioned animation is not just a fun gag but a clue about what Jimmy truly desires. When Jimmy was a troubled young boy, he used to watch Hanna-Barbera cartoons to comfort himself. The dead music producer was watching them the day his musician mother abandoned him.

Lucifer can’t take Jimmy out of Hell, but he comforts the tortured man by trapping him in a time loop. For the rest of the time, Jimmy watches cartoons with his mother right before she leaves. The viewer, like Jimmy, can’t help but giggle watching a Hanna-Barbera cartoon though the storytelling technique moves the plot forward.

Happiness Only In Death

Many human characters don’t find self-actualization or happiness until after they die, which I find troubling. Now I know that Lucifer is an urban fantasy television show, not a serious drama, but it conforms to problematic Judeo-Christian beliefs. Beliefs like humans need to live a hard life, so they go to paradise when they die.

Nobody should or needs to feel joyful twenty-four-seven, but there is no need to feel tortured most of the time. Therapist Dr. Linda Martin (Rachael Harris) and forensic scientist Ella Lopez (Aimee Garcia) live happily. But Linda’s son Charlie Martin is half-archangel, and the father of her child, archangel Amenadiel (D.B Woodside), becomes God.

Ella Lopez is the only main human character with no romantic (former or current) affiliations with an immortal that lives fully. Dan Espinoza (Kevin Alejandro) doesn’t get his forever after with Charlotte Richards (Tricia Helfer) until they’re both in Heaven. Chloe and Lucifer don’t get their happy ending until she dies, then is flown down to Hell to be his partner.

The Love Story in Lucifer Season 6

Chloe and Lucifer are the television show’s sweetest love story, but it still seems unfair that they spend decades apart. Lucifer could have been the Devil and still visited his family, but he promised Rory he wouldn’t. Rory’s logic on why Lucifer needs to isolate himself from his family is never explained, making the ending feel unfair to both the audience and the characters.

Lucifer Morningstar’s mental health journey ends on a high note, with the Devil finding his true purpose. The whole series starts with Lucifer vacationing in Los Angles because he felt bored constantly torturing souls in Hell. However, he stayed in Los Angeles because of his feelings for the detective. Helping Chloe solve murders was fun for Lucifer but not his true purpose. Chloe loves catching criminals, proven by the fact that retirement doesn’t stop her from inserting herself in investigations during a date with Lucifer.

On the other hand, the Devil has no trouble quitting his LAPD advisory position to be God. Lucifer’s last unconventional therapy session with Linda reveals that he doesn’t want to be the lord. The mantle of God doesn’t fit his personality or talents. But throughout the series, Lucifer has been obsessed with bettering himself through therapy.

In the final season, he actively helps numerous lost souls. The Devil stops Rory from letting rage consume her. “Goodbye Lucifer” ends with Lucifer’s advice freeing Dan of his guilt, therefore, allowing him to ascend to Heaven.

Throughout the ten episodes, the Devil counsels people makes it natural that he chooses to return to Hell. Lucifer’s true purpose is to treat the deceased humans whose guilt traps them in Hell. Lucifer Season 6 reveals the importance of maintaining good mental health.

Watch all seasons of Lucifer on Netflix!

[steves-on-a-plane]

Destiny Disputed

Words: 2216 Pairing: Ben Solo x Reader Timeline: Pre-Episode VII AU Summary: Ben takes Reader on what they think is a joy ride to an outer rim planet. What Reader quickly finds out is that Ben has come to Tatooine in an attempt to define himself and his place in the force.

“Hold on tight, we’re going in for the landing.” The young pilot behind the yolk of a borrowed tandem x-wing you were riding in told you. His voice came in slightly static through your headset. You looked through the viewport trying to see the planet below. “It’s going to take a while before you see anything good.” He told you as if reading your mind.

“Well, it’s Tatooine, so I won’t see anything good until we leave.” You insisted. “But I never get tired of seeing planets from this high up.” You smiled.

“I used to think that too.” He laughed. “But the magic wears off after a while.”

“I just realized that other than your uncle, who we see every day, you never talk about your family. Did you travel a lot as a kid?” You wondered.

“My mother is in government and my father is the captain of a freighter.” He told you. “So, there was a little bit here and there.”

“A captain?” You commented, clearly impressed. “Is that where you learned to fly?” The curved sandy surface of the planet below finally came into view as the X-wing continued to descend towards Tatooine.

“You could say it’s in my blood.” He answered back. “My Uncle always dreamed of being a pilot. I’m told my grandfather was a pilot too. I’ve been flying as long as I can remember.”

“You have quite the legacy to live up to, Ben.” You told him.

“Yeah.” He scoffed. “Tell me about it.”

“How exactly did you talk Master Luke into letting you borrow this X-Wing anyway?” You asked.

“Right, about that…” His sentence trailed off.

Once the X-Wing was landed and secure at Docking Bay 42, You followed Ben to the crowded streets of Mos Eisley Spaceport. They weren’t streets in the sense that you were used to. They were more like dusty pathways with no clear flow of traffic. Only a few steps off the ship and you were already grieving it’s temperature control settings. The planet of Tatooine was hot, dry, and full of sand.

“What exactly is so important here that you had to steal an X-wing for?” You found yourself coughing violently as flecks of sand managed to find their way into your lungs. Ben rolled his eyes at you.

“Wear this.” Without giving you a change to protest, he wrapped a thin piece of linen cloth in such a way that your mouth and nose were covered. “It protects you from the sand.” He explained impatiently. “And I didn’t steal the X-wing. We’re going to bring it back.”

“You’re still not answering my question.” You remarked. “What’s so special about this place? Other than the fact that it’s a miracle any life forms can survive on it at all.”

“C’mere.” He grasped your hand and tugged your off the street. The two of you were wedged together between two Tatooineian Clay buildings. You hadn’t thought the dual sun planet could feel any hotter, but with your chest pressed against Ben’s, you could feel his every breath on your exposed skin.

“I never tell anyone this. I don’t want the others to make fun of me. Can you keep a secret?” You nodded. “My mother is Leia Organa-Solo. She was the princess of Alderaan. Her husband is Han Solo.”

“As in General Leia Organa Solo?” You repeated.

“Yes, not so loud!” He covered your mouth with his hand. Maybe it was the heat but pressed between him and the building with one of his hands holding yours the other covering your mouth, it was almost romantic. Definitely the heat. You decided. “We can’t be overheard talking about them here, do you understand?” You nodded. He nodded back, removing his hand.

“I don’t understand, you tell everyone your name is Ben Skywalker. Why would you do that?” You questioned in a whisper.

“I couldn’t avoid being Luke Skywalker’s nephew. The others would sense some type of familial bond through the force, but they didn’t need to know about my parents. I want to forge my own destiny. I don’t want to be known as the general’s son, or the smuggler’s son. I just want to be me. You can understand that can’t you?”

“I-I…” You looked into his brown eyes. You could feel the weight of what he was saying. You could feel it in his body language and in the force. You could feel how it had burdened him all this time. How he was pleading with you now to understand him. You were proud of where you came from. Your father was a respectable trader and your mother, who had been a pilot in the rebellion, now worked transport jobs for the republic. She’d even met Leia Organa once or twice and had nothing but kind things to say about the general.

“What’s on Tatooine, Ben?” You asked him again.

“Ghosts.” He whispered. “And we’re going to see them all.” He tugged you out of the ally and towards a land speeder rental.

“You said before that I have a lot to live up to.” Ben recalled your earlier conversation. “Everyone in my family was once a nobody.”

“Everybody is somebody, Ben.” You disagreed.

“Not in the outer rim.” He shook his head. He stopped the speeder. It appeared you were hovering inside abandoned ruins of some sort of colosseum. “When my grandfather was a child, before he was a jedi, he was a slave; a nothing. Where we are now was once the starting point for the Boota Eve Classic. A podrace. A pod race that my grandfather won, his winnings were used to repair the ship of a jedi master named Qui Gon Jin who helped him escape this place. Without pod racing, he never escapes Tatooine, he never becomes a Jedi, he never becomes Darth Vader.”

“There’s no way to know that for sure.” You disagreed. “Master Skywalker says…”

“Master Skywalker.” Ben offered a grunt of contempt.

“Is it Master Skywalker or his teachings that you don’t like?” You asked over the hum of the landspeeder. Ben was already steering the vehicle away from the forgotten racetrack towards another part of the planet.

“What I don’t like are his philosophies.” Ben hissed. You watched his grip on the landspeeder’s yolk tighten. “My father is the sort of man who believes a person makes their own destiny. Uncle Luke thinks all things are determined by The Force. That our destiny isn’t fully within our control. I suppose my mother is somewhere in between, though her opinion was rarely asked about while the two of them debated at the dinner table.”

“So which do you believe? That our choices all mean nothing or that they mean everything?” You watched his brows furrow together. He scowled into the skyline.

“That’s what we’re here to find out.” You traveled in silence for serval miles. You wondered how Ben could so easily navigate the planet. To you Tatooine seems to be nothing but sand for parsecs and parsecs. He navigated the terrain as if he’d spend all of his youngling years there. You supposed it was possible he could have. He’d already admitted to lying about who he was once. You began to wonder if you really knew him at all.

The landspeeder seemed to stop suddenly. You glanced around looking for any type of landmark. Ben reached over and tilted your chin with his forefinger and thumb. He pointed out to the horizon. If you squinted, you could just make out the signature dome shape of a moisture farmhouse. You knew from the stories he shared around the temple that Master Luke had grown up on a moisture farm.

“Is that…” You started to ask Ben.

“Not exactly. Like the legends say, the majority of it was burned down the day my uncle left the planet, but it’s the same land the family farm was on.” Ben nodded solemnly. “The family farm where my great grandmother lived and my uncle lived and where my great uncle died. Did anyone ever tell you who I was named after?”

“Until a few hours ago I’d thought your last name was Skywalker.” You reminded him. “How do I even know your name is Ben?” You turned in your seat and looked at him. You waited for a response.

“I deserve that.” He laughed. “I am named after Uncle Luke’s mentor. A jedi named Obi Wan Kenobi. The people in the area knew him as Old Ben. He lived here for eighteen years here keeping an eye on Luke. Trying to protect him from my grandfather.”

“How exactly is this helping you with your moral dilemma?” You interrupted him. Both Ben and his uncle had an affinity for dramatic story telling. Normally you enjoyed that sort of thing. There wasn’t much entertainment at the temple. Being in the vast openness there in the broiling land speeder, however, had taken away your usual appreciation for grandiose speeches.

“How is it possible that so many people’s stories can be intricately intertwined here, on this one planet?” He didn’t wait for you to answer before asking another question. “How can so many lives start and end here and it mean nothing? Obi Wan brings a baby Luke Skywalker here to this broiling hellscape while his sister is sent to live in the utopia that was Alderaan. What if instead they’re switched? If Luke becomes Luke Organa, prince of Alderaan, does he still grow up dreaming of becoming a pilot and discovering life somewhere else? If Leia Skywalker spends her life here, does she still become the great general who openly defies Darth Vader and helps get the Death Star plans to the rebellion? We have one more stop on our tour.”

The landspeeder gave a sudden jerk forward and you began to move away from the moisture farm and back towards the closest thing to pass for civilization on Tatooine. It was in that moment that you sensed it for the first time. You weren’t sure how you’d missed it for so long. You’d known Ben most of your life after all. Sure, he’d been quiet and mostly kept to himself, but you’d always considered him a friend.

You’d always known he was powerful. That was the burden of the Skywalker legacy. He’d always learned things faster than others and you assumed it was because of his bond with Master Luke or maybe that he’d received additional training on the side. Despite being good friends for years, you realized you’d never been truly alone with Ben. The sheer vastness of Tatooine meant it were just the two of you alone, no other lifeforms for miles.

Your fight or flight response told you to be afraid. You felt yourself stiffen, as if even the slightest muscle twitch would put you in danger. You fought to gather yourself and shake the feeling away. Surely it was the unfamiliar planet that had given you a scare. Maybe all of Ben’s talks of ghosts had put something in your head. Deep down though you knew, the darkness that you were sensing was coming from Ben.

“You’re afraid of me.” He stated. “There’s no sense in lying. I can sense it in you.”

“No.” You told him quietly, your voice barely audible over the speeder’s hum. It was the truth. Ben had been nothing but kind to you, you had no reason to be afraid of him. It was the darkness you were afraid of. You wondered if it scared him too. Had it been the allure of the darkside that had brought him all the way to Tatooine?

“My uncle is.” Ben told you. In the distance the outskirts of Mos Eisley were visible at last. You no longer cared about making it back to the spaceport. “He’s worried I’m too much like Vader. That I won’t be able to fight it.”

“What do you think?” You asked.

“That he doesn’t know me at all.” Ben answered. “That if he knew I had something worth fighting for, he’d understand why I wasn’t really tempted by the dark side.”

“What’s that? The something you’re fighting for?” You questioned.

“You don’t already know?” He stopped the landspeeder a mile from the very edge of Mos Eisley. He turned to look at you. You met his gaze with your own. “My father once said that a man doesn’t get where he’s going alone. You get as far as you can on your own, but sooner or later you need at least one good partner to walk beside. Someone to co-pilot when you just can’t seem to make it that final stretch of the journey. There’s a cantina in town, the same one my father met Uncle Luke and Old Ben at for the first time. You’ll know it’s the right place when you hear a blith band that playing incessant Jatz music. After an hour, if you’re not there, we’ll meet back at the ship, I’ll take you to the temple and we’ll never speak a word of it again.”

“What sort of a co-pilot would I be, if I even got out of the speeder?” You asked reaching for his hand. “You won’t get rid of me that easily, Ben. I’ve got you.” You promised.

[bookwormscififan]

Time

Buy me a coffee?

A/N: I had two options relating to this title: Onerous Cimmerian or force my brain to give me a JJ ‘Time Is Broken’ idea. I went with OC. It’ll be short, because my eyes are very sleepy.

A year did things to people.

A year dragged the whole family into this hellscape.

A year broke up families.

Juxta looked at the lions as they played with each other, wondering if they knew the extent to which their existence reached.

They seemed so happy.

In his hand, he held an old family photo, image faded behind the sun-beaten glass of the photo frame.

He looked down at the photo again, small smile beginning to tug at his lips as a memory began to surface.

The image showed all of the men when they were younger.

Juxta and Malvern stood side-by-side, both with natural black hair, Juxta without a scar on his face.

Chase and Jared pulled faces at each other, a blonde child sticking his tongue out at a brown-haired boy.

Hen and Alto stood to the side, Hen with a water gun pointed at the Brodsens and Alto watching some birds in the tree out of frame.

They all looked happy, innocent.

Juxta lowered the photo, staring at the wall leading to the void.

He blinked, feeling tears begin to fall down his cheeks.

When had things gone so wrong?

“Well, I never expected tears,” Death’s voice caused Juxta to hastily wipe his eyes, setting the photo aside.

What do you want?

Death smirked, picking up the photo to inspect it.

“I just wanted to see you, dear Juxta.”

The silent man glared at Death, refusing to move.

Chase and Jared have been away from the house for several months. Mayhem can’t happen if they’re not here.

Death put the photo down, placing a finger dramatically to her chin in thought.

“Yes, you’re quite right. But then, whatever shall we do?” She began to smile, making chills run down Juxta’s spine.

Death snapped her fingers, disappearing and leaving Juxta alone in his room with his lions.

He looked around, trying to see if anything had changed, but he couldn’t see any differences.

Confused, he stood up to head to the kitchen, but found that he couldn’t get up.

He looked frantically around, fear filling his stomach as he fought to breathe.

He pushed his arms on the bed, trying to launch himself up.

He landed on the ground, startling the lions and causing them to back away.

He feebly reached for the doorframe, before dropping his hand back down.

As the world around him faded to black, He managed to send a message to his brother.

Help me Malvern…

[otp-armada]

Right before I woke up this morning, for a moment, my mind dreamt of a scene of Clarke on the Ring. She makes it to the rocket on time. It's her and Bellamy standing at the observation window, watching Earth burn. It's the two of them looking to the future, their people's and their own, together. 4x13 ends with a flash-forward of six years, but one of Spacekru as a family. As we see the eight of them laughing together at a dinner table, the camera pans to a weighted, happy glance shared between Clarke and Bellamy, him lifting their joined hands to his lips, two matching, thin rings of gold metal on their fingers. And that's how the audience comes to know they have coupled up. Boom. Out.

My ears are ringing from the collective shrieking we would have done.

My waking hours are here, and I'd like to play this scenario out to my specifications.

The first half of 5x01 is Spacekru flashbacks, showing us how they bonded to become a family and how Bellarke got together.

In the long, quiet comfort of the Ring, our heroes give voice to their past traumas and heal old grievances.

Clarke tells Bellamy about her father, Bellamy shares stories about his mother. She tells him about her father's kindness and gentle nature, his limitless heart. Jake's teases about Clarke drawing on every plain surface she could find, a habit that began with her childhood. Passionate as she was for sketching, she was in the midst of early medical training. Her exposure to the Council and the Chancellor is what gave Clarke her political acumen. Clarke recounts the games they used to watch with the Jahas. Before long, she's explaining the rules of soccer to a confused but amused Bellamy. Bellamy tells her what little he remembers about his parents before his father died. Aurora's smile. Her sacrifices for her children. Her tenacity. Her love of mythic stories she passed onto him. The overwhelming sense of responsibility she instilled in him from too early an age. Bellamy talks about the challenges of a life spent hiding a little girl under the floorboards from the Ark. Bellamy shares the rewards of being the only pair of siblings to have existed in nearly a hundred years. Unbidden by the role of big brother in Clarke's company, he gives voice to the constraints placed on his life. The hardships of living in Factory Station, while Clarke shrinks in guilt over her bountiful upbringing in Alpha. They both recall the pain of watching their parents get floated. There, in front of their eyes one second, gone forever in the blink of an eye. Clarke discloses that, while privileged, she was a lonely child. Were it not for Wells, she would have had no friends. She talks about him, what Bellamy never got to know about Wells Jaha.

The atmosphere shifts, and their conversations progress to contemporary times.

They discuss their respective tendencies to want to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders. It takes time, but Clarke finally divulges why she felt compelled to leave Camp Jaha. How bereft she felt. Her nightmares and loneliness in self-imposed exile. Wandering around the freezing cold of the woods. Bellamy can't rein in the pain as he reminds Clarke that she didn't bear it all on her own. She couldn't have, not when he was the one left behind to pick up the pieces Mount Weather shredded. He was the one seeing their faces every day. She asked him to come back with her, to their people, once before, and he did. But when he asked her to do the same, she left. They both know it's not apologies he's looking for. It's a promise, a reigniting of an old promise made between two lost souls needing the other when the world threatened to drown them. They readily give in.

Their conversation takes an unexpected turn when Clarke explains why she gave in to Bellamy's plan to go undercover in Mt. Weather. For her to be strong enough to save her people, she couldn't let love hold her back, make her weak. From the second Bellamy left her sight, she regretted it. They both recognize it as the confession she didn't intend to say. Shock settles in. With newfound confidence, it triggers an admission of Bellamy's own feelings. Cue canon Bellarke.

Once the air between them is clear, it was only fair that the effects of Mt. Weather be a topic Clarke and Bellamy discuss with the third member of the room that fateful day. It leads them to the complicated subject of Jasper, the three of them breaking down in tears over their fallen friend.

Six years of peacetime spent in Clarke's company shapes perspective on the girl herself. She's not Clarke Griffin, the fierce and stoic Skaikru leader, equipped with all the answers. She's not Wanheda, the great legend. She's just a girl, with vulnerabilities, insecurities, fears, and demons, just the same as any of them. She becomes a person to them. Real flesh and blood. A human being who does indeed break. And no one is more startled by this revelation than Raven. It's another contentious relationship of Clarke's requiring time to mend. Although sharing feelings doesn't come easily to Raven, the two eventually crack their sibling-like rivalry where Abby and Finn are concerned.

It's the presence of a fellow cockroach well-versed in the glamourous lifestyle of isolation that gets Murphy out of his self-destructive streak. In their own ways, they have both been the outsiders. They make an uncanny pair of confidantes, so says the rest of the kru. But somehow, it works. Trust doesn't come easy for Murphy, and he and Clarke have their fair share of issues. Close quarters force the two of them and Emori to work it out. For all that Clarke excels at contrition, deserved and undeserved, she's also never been one to beat around the bush, no matter Murphy's preference to lash out in his signature style of sharp sarcasm at moments of his choosing. As it is for Bellamy, Clarke's belief in Murphy as a good man is an overwhelming force, one he is not sure he's worthy of, but privately welcomed nevertheless. In time, there arrives a sense of respect and loyalty between them no one foresaw.

Clarke's penchant for extending her hand to the outsiders doesn't end with Murphy and Emori. Clarke was the first to bring Echo on board and, she is the first to treat their errant Azgeda former spy as family. Post-season 4 to the series' end, Echo's character development is at the forefront of her story arc, never filtered through a subpar pairing needed to fuel an insipid love triangle where her leg of it is marked for eventual demolition.

Since I am bound by limitless imagination, let us pretend this was a 2-hour season premiere.

The flashbacks take us through the six years to the present. Spacekru's happiness is juxtaposed, as we transition to below the ground, by the hellscape Wonkru is trapped in. The second half of 5x01 is Wonkru flashbacks, a la 5x02.

5x02 takes us back to Eligius IV, to the passing of Order 11 (is that what it was called?). A young pilot named Shaw chooses to defy his captain's orders, releasing their prisoners. They proceed to take over the ship, killing Shaw's crewmates and captain, Charmaine Diyoza assuming command. She corrals Paxton McCreary and his men to her side. With their mutiny a success, Diyoza tells Shaw to plot a course for Earth. All the while, we see Shaw wrestling with the bloody aftermath of his decisions. They reach Earth's orbit, ready to go home, unknowingly under the watch of 8 survivors in space.

The Eligius prisoners touch ground on the last arable patch of land on Earth and quickly find themselves ensnared in a series of traps by an unknown number of assailants. Their assailant turns out to be a solitary preteen. They capture her, interrogate her. She speaks a language they've never heard. I'm making it a point to emphasize those infernal shock collars do not exist in my little world.

5x03 plays out similarly onboard the Eligius mothership. Our kru arrives, not to borrow a cup of sugar, but to steal the hydrazine for their journey home. Clarke, Bellamy, and kru debates the morality of killing 300 strangers in their sleep before deciding to use them as leverage. Raven and Murphy stay behind. Six Spacekru members fall to Earth and are captured by Eligius. They are taken to Diyoza, where they find a little girl dressed in Grounder garb. Bellamy and Clarke use their trump card to free themselves, Madi, and use their resources to locate Wonkru, with an additional promise to share the land and their knowledge of life on Earth.

5x04 plays out the same, more or less, without the awkward tension of a Bellarke trying to reacclimate themselves to each other's presence again. Diyoza brings Madi, Bellamy, and Clarke to Polis, where Bellarke negotiates for Wonkru's release. They meet Blodreina and her cult of warriors. Fandom squeals seeing Octavia greet her sister-in-law. Wonkru (and Blodreina) comes to realize that they have found a surviving Nightblood. Diyoza betrays the accord, taking Abby and Kane to Shallow Valley and leaving Bellarke and Madi at odds with Octavia.

5x05 sees Bellarke continuing to act in concert as a team, eager to reunite with their lost people while keeping a protective eye on Madi. Tensions brew between them and Blodreina. Marper and Echo return and they all turn back to Polis.

Blodreina refuses to grant pardon to Echo. Spacekru fights on her behalf, while Echo is willfully recruited for Octavia's mission. Madi meets Gaia under Clarke's watchful eye. When Madi is introduced to the Flame, Clarke tries to persuade her not to be swayed by the Flamekeeper's influence. Because this is my fantasy and I can do what I wish, it turns out that Clarke and Bellamy are expecting their first child. Clarke, believing the Flame to be a curse for its bearer, wants to spare Madi a bloody fate. She wants to abolish this aspect of Grounder culture, fearing the chances her child may become the next natural-born Nightblood. She dreads the possibility of her child as the next participant in the Conclave or the next Commander.

Another sidenote I am interjecting. Here, toxic motherhood isn't a defining characteristic of Clarke's, to aid in her isolation and subsequent, continual emotional decline. In my world, she gets to be a protective mother, a loving wife, a compassionate friend, and a caring daughter, all rolled in one little blonde package. She gives love freely, as she does in canon, but receives it in kind. She doesn't sink to rock bottom, nor must she, to be the heroine she is. She draws on the good and the bad experiences she's had to teach others. She imparts her lessons to those in need. Love is a commodity her life isn’t devoid of.

Clarke and Bellamy argue over what to do about Blodreina. Neither wants her to be harmed, but Bellamy maintains that she is, above all, his sister. He needs to believe Octavia is still within reach. He cannot abandon her now that they're together again. Clarke petitions Bellamy to take their family to Shallow Valley before it's too late. They compromise, agreeing to remove Octavia from the board long enough for Indra to take Diyoza's proffered deal. Their plans fail, as per 5x08, and Octavia arrests Clarke, an execution set for after the baby’s birth. We retain the glorious Blake scene of 5x08. It breaks Bellamy's heart to hurt Octavia, but she forced his hand. He has to protect his wife and their baby.

Tensions come to a head between husband and wife, courtesy of 5x09. Bellamy, having exhausted all other options, decides Madi must ascend to Commander to accomplish their goals. It is the only way to protect them all and save the valley. I am once again interrupting my spiel to remark that Clarke knows, unequivocally, she is included on the shortlist of family Bellamy is most ardently trying to protect. Forget "included," she's at the top. Clarke, ever the protective mother, disagrees, citing endangerment to Madi from Octavia and her patriots. Clarke argues that, of Diyoza and Octavia, Diyoza is the lesser evil to their family. As long as they remain within Diyoza's rules, they have nothing to fear from her. Bellamy, seeing Clarke's deep-rooted fear, agrees.

They are delayed by Marper, who wish to stay within the bunker, living off the revitalized algae farm. Bellamy and Clarke don't want to leave them behind until Monty points out that they, for once, deserve the chance to choose their fate, as all of the people of Earth. Octavia recuperates in time to arrest Bellamy, sending him to the fighting pit. Clarke fights to defend him but is detained. Clarke wants to fight alongside him, but they both know she has to live to raise their baby. They are permitted a final goodbye, and they have an emotional last exchange, a.k.a. Kabby parallel. Like Kane before him, Indra is forced to separate another family.

Octavia assures Bellamy that the baby will be under her protection. By now, Bellamy has reached the end of his rope with his baby sister. He loves her, but he can't distinguish her from the monster she's become, and it's about to cost him a life with his family. Disgusted, Bellamy scoffs at her overtures. He reminds her that his child deserves to have its parents. Clarke's earlier words come back as he tells her that she is his family's worst enemy. It wasn't enough for Aurora to leave him responsible for raising his sister at six years old. For the first time, his life is right, and she's the one who's about to take it away. He reminds her what it was like to lose her mother at 17, to never know her father. She knows how devastating it feels. Yet, left up to her, his child would be an orphan. He finishes with a devastating blow: it'll be those he holds as his family who will take care of his wife and child.

Clarke breaks free of her restraints, making plans to cause disruption to the bunker and getting Bellamy out in the ensuing chaos. She is stopped by Monty, who wants to use the opportunity to give Wonkru a better choice. Clarke tells him she isn't gambling Bellamy's life. Monty breaks again, pointing out that the last time he helped her and Bellamy, they split blood, and their plans still failed. Clarke reluctantly relents out of guilt, knowing how Mount Weather continues to haunt Monty. She does, after all, trust him with her life.

Bellamy fights Indra in the pits until the proceedings are interrupted by an intervening Monty, brandishing a pure, white flower in a sea of blood and darkness. Just as he begins to sway Wonkru to his non-volatile solution to the impending war, Blodreina forces compliance by burning the algae farm.

As Wonkru mobilizes for war, the fractured Spacekru and Madi take the rover to the valley to find their friends. They destroy the worms in transit.

They save an incapacitated Abby, who later recounts the Dark Year. Bellamy can't stop the horror he feels at the ordeal his sister has lived through. He feels a pang of guilt he knows is irrational while wrestling with the knowledge that she is still responsible for her choices now.

They reunite with the rest of Spacekru and are surprised to learn McCreary has taken control of the camp. With Diyoza and Kane's assistance, the eye in the sky is reinstalled, giving Eligius the advantage. As much as they want to prevent this war, they cannot leave Wonkru to die in the gorge. The group breaks off. One team is sent to disable the eye in the sky. The other team uses Madi's knowledge of the valley's layout to head off to fight alongside Wonkru in the gorge.

By the time they arrive safely, only Octavia, Indra, and Gaia are left alive. Bellamy convinces Octavia to retreat instead of sacrificing herself. He tells her she has to live with what she's done instead of taking the easy way out. For the most part, I'm picturing the scenes play out as they did in canon. At base camp, Wonkru is in disarray. Too many bodies are left littered from this war, with Blodreina at fault. To stop the in-fighting, Madi attempts to assume control by invoking her natural right to lead as a Nightblood. Some dissent, claiming she is not yet Commander. With support from Gaia, Octavia, and Bellamy (who makes sure this is what she wants), they sway Wonkru to Madi's side. Freshly invigorated, Wonkru prepares for a second assault.

Back on the Eligius ship, Clarke, Raven, and Shaw release an imprisoned Diyoza. They allow themselves to be captured and taken to the ship's central control. While McCreary attempts to force Raven to pilot their ship, she and Clarke regain control. Meanwhile, Bellamy convinces Madi to let the prisoners live.

From here, may I present two alternatives:

Scenario 1: Clarke kills McCreary before he can launch the missile from the mothership. With Spacekru controlling the ship's weaponry and Wonkru overtaking the prisoners, Eligius capitulates. After much deliberation, a new accord is reached, allowing for all survivors to live in peace as a singular society. Spacekru gets their 80 acres. The last of the 10(2) become parents to the next generation. It takes time, but Bellamy and Octavia's relationship heals. Eventually, she earns back her place in his life as his sister. She becomes one of many to welcome Bellarke's little one to the world, ecstatic to be a loving aunt. Generations later, the Earth recovers.

Scenario #2: The missile is launched. Earth's survivors must escape to space to survive. Marper opts out of cryosleep and has a son. It takes Monty ten years to realize Earth may never recover from its last doomsday. He wakes Spacekru+ to determine options. Between him, Raven, and Shaw, the three configure a self-running algorithm to decode the Eligius III mission files. They wire the pods to awaken its occupants every decade to check the algorithm's progress. The McIntyre-Greens go into cryosleep with some gentle persuasion from Bellarke. They won't leave their people behind. Thirty years later, Earth remains dormant. The files reveal the existence of a planet that could support human life, lightyears away, in the binary star system in the Goldilocks zone. They plot a course.

No, it's not as thrilling as the original ending. But if our heroes are going to traipse across the universe, only to return to their home planet, then Marper will not be sacrificed for nada. They will live out their days, a little older, a little wiser, but surrounded by their friends. They will not say farewell to their son at his ripe old age of 26.

There isn't much I would change about season 6, not where its major storylines are concerned. Clarke meets Cillian for his insight on Abby and Kane's deteriorating conditions. I would alter Madi's arc to where she takes the Flame in Sanctum and uses the time while the grounders are in cryosleep to train under Gaia's tutelage. Madi becomes attached to Bellarke, and it leaves her susceptible to Sheidheda's influence when her newfound familial figures find themselves at risk from the Primes. She'd see Sheidheda as a necessary evil to save her people, not unlike Clarke submitting to Lxa's clout. I would have Sheidheda preying on Madi's fears that she'd be alone again as she was during Praimfaya if she doesn't respond with vigor.

Season 7 gets a similar, substantial overhaul I've been thinking about for months but haven't yet written down.

The end.

(When am I going to stop with these sidenotes? After this last point, I promise.) Jason ran too tight a ship to let his post-apocalypse masterpiece become overtaken by frivolous romance. Without this pitfall, what stopped him from coupling Bellarke up before the end? Nothing. He could have a Bellarke that remained symbolic of the show's themes and mythos. A show that thrives on chaos would never run out of conflict to stir the pot. Falling apart and weaving themselves back together has been the model of their relationship since season one. Why couldn't they do this and be a couple? Why couldn't they have the Memori Model? They could have, but Jason chose the path of the slowburn. There's no fault in this. There is a fault in choosing to rescind the previously established story when it comes time for the threads to finally tie together. And I will never forgive him for it.

[retvenkos]

becoming // five hargreeves

The Umbrella Academy - Five Hargreeves x platonic!Reader, slight angst

requested

A/N: did i do it right? i tried to include everything, anon, i hope you like it! also, y’all can fite me, five was alone for a hella long time, so don’t expect him to pick up on complex facial features. he knows the basics and even then can’t tell happiness from rage. fite me - he is not a great agent because he can read people, but because he’s so efficient he doesn’t need to. (also, michelle obama reference in the title? i love her.)

Summary: For a moment, there’s silence. Then, your lips part, and Five hears you say, quietly, “You never talk about the apocalypse.”

The horizon was on fire -  reds bleeding into oranges, yellows cutting through both and mingling with the dark blue of the sky. The sun was setting on an unforgiving world, and this burning was recompense for it’s unyielding way of existing. For a moment, the air felt like it was choking on ash and dust and Five reached up to loosen his tie that hung around his neck like a noose.

Sunsets reminded Five of the apocalypse.

He had lived under a ravaged, on fire world for so long it felt like it was he knew. In that world, the sky had always been a very particular hue of inferno, an orange that was more yellow than red, the blues of the sky a charcoal grey, only the ends bleeding into something lighter and more soft. In the first few months, he walked and scavenged during the day, as though the natural order of how things once were meant something - as though by being active in the day, he might stumble upon some other weary soul who was also trying to live in this hellscape, this nothingness. When he met Dolores, she told him to avoid the heat and wake at night, when the sun was setting and casting this burning world in shadow. The apocalypse was easier to swallow, in the dark. But even then, he had always witnessed those sunsets. Every time he opened his eyes, the world was on fire.

Even after all those years, after taking the Handler’s offer and joining the Commission, that hadn’t changed.

The sky only looked like itself when it’s burning - the shades of baby blue didn’t look right, anymore. This world wasn’t familiar to him. Only at night, when the sun was setting, did it look like something he could remember.

But all that ash... all those years...

Part of him wanted to look away, the other part of him wanted a drink - something to quench the thirst that itched the back of his throat, something that would burn on it’s way down so that he could remember what it was like to still be alive. But he couldn’t pull his gaze away, the same way he couldn’t escape that burning future.

“Hey, Five.” You all but materialized at his side, and if Five wasn’t used to how stealthily you moved, he would have jumped. Instead, he kept his eyes forward, on that setting sun with it’s brilliant fire. He felt your gaze on him and he knew, without having to look, what you looked like - your mouth set in a careful, respectful line with all of your concern swimming in your eyes.

From the day Five had met you, your eyes betrayed you.

He had been new to the Commission, then, and you were already an agent of two years, efficient but guilt ridden. He was still getting used to looking people in the eye, and when he saw all of that pain just lying there, he couldn’t hold your gaze.

You met again, later, at the group therapy the Commission forced him into before he was ready for fieldwork (it had been covered by their insurance back then, not that insurance was something Five had understood, at the time. He had been a child and then the apocalypse turned him into something matured - not an adult who understood the workplace.). He never talked about the apocalypse, there, but through those sessions he learned to look into people’s eyes and stomach the sound of voices that weren’t his own. You had gotten him to talk, once, about the family he left behind, and after that the two of you were put on assignments together. The Commission decided you were the only one cut out to work with him - you’d been the one to get him to speak, after all.

There always seemed to be this unspoken understanding between the two of you - he could tell what you were thinking by looking into your eyes, and you knew what he was pondering by the way he carried himself and the length of his silence.

And now, in this hotel room, you were prying him open again. What secret were you looking for, this time?

You looked away from him, and Five counted to three before you spoke, your voice calculatingly light. “When we first met, I wouldn’t have thought you were the type to watch sunsets.”

“And I wouldn’t have taken you as a sniper, yet here we are.” There was a hint of a sigh in his voice, and Five blinked twice before turning to you, his attention pulled from the setting sun.

“It’s less personal, that way.” you shrugged, displacing the weight that threatened to settle on your shoulders, the reality of this life getting more normalized with each subsequent assignment. You’d come a long way from the traumatized agent you had once been, but you still had that humanity - something Five didn’t know if he ever had, let alone lost. You looked at him, again, and he felt vulnerable beneath your honest gaze. “What about you? What’s your reason? I can’t imagine you value sunsets for their romantic appeal.”

Had it been a different time of day, he would have scoffed. But the horizon was calling him again, and Five let his attention wander back to what lay beyond the window. The last of the yellows disappeared, leaving this world to night, and he breathed a little easier. When he spoke, his voice was clear and strong. “When the world ends, it’s on fire.” Five turned back to you, but he couldn’t meet your eyes. “I recognize this world when it’s burning.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, your lips parted, and Five heard you say, quietly, “You never talk about the apocalypse.”

“And you never talk about your first kill. No one ever talks about their first steps into the real world.” You were watching him intently, and Five let his eyes reach yours, his voice dropping in volume. “It only matters what you become afterward.”

Your eyes squinted for a moment, almost like a spasm, but Five recognized that expression on your face. He could never quite place the emotion attached to it, but he figured it was all that time alone that made the nuances of facial features unrecognizable. Your lips closed as you seemingly made up your mind, and you breathed in deeply, steeling yourself against what you were about to say. Five watched you with idle curiosity - the emotional side of humanity was something stolen from him, and while it was easier to not be so emotionally inclined, some days he longed for it’s depths.

“I don’t think you’ve finished changing, Five - you’re still becoming, just like the rest of us.”

Five blinked, and you walked past him, patting him on the shoulder, leaving him to his window-side vigil of the rising moon.

“What are you, my therapist?” He turned his head to follow your movements, a hint of humor in his tone.

“Who else is going to put up with your moods?”

       -- taglist: @babyplutoszx2​, @brokenandheadoverheels​ // message me if you want to be added!

[cherryblossom-chopper]

Can I request Shank’s S/O going out running errands for the ship when they get caught in a terrible blizzard and get lost before they can find their way back, and collapses in the snow from the cold. Shanks sends everyone out to find her and by the time they do she’s half frozen and terribly ill? 👀✨ please?

I wrote this instead of doing my German homework... oop...

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2003

Snow Storms

Shanks grunted and pulled the blankets tighter to his chest. He felt as if the room had gotten even colder than it had been when he had fallen asleep. He opened his right eye and rolled over to look out the window in his room. He wrinkled his nose when he saw frost completely covering the window.

   Red Haired Shanks was many things, but a winter man was not one of them. He loved the feeling of the sun on the skin and sweating out all the alcohol he drank the night before, not this frosted hellscape of an island they were on. So he made an executive discussion to get out of bed and find his partner. He required naked cuddles, but strictly for warming himself up. Shanks snatched the extra blanket of his bed and draped it around his shoulders like a cape and slipped on his boots.

   Shanks sucked in a deep breath and prepared to go on to the main deck. He opened the door and frowned at the several inches of snow that had piled up on his floor. The snow crunched under his boots as Shanks marched across the deck towards his crew members on deck though he was hard-pressed to find any of them in the wind.

   Snow began settling on his shoulders in large flakes, and he was very much unenthusiastic about being out in the cold. The next place he checked was in the galley where he, of course, found his men. They were sitting firmly together wrapped tightly in coats drinking ale and wolfing down excellent hot food. Shanks was a little offended that they didn't invite him to this little party.

   "Hey, welcome to the party Captain," Lucky Roux grinned while taking a bite out of the mutton leg. The crew smiled and raised their steins to their Captain, who looked a bit disheveled and quite cold.

   "You're having so much fun without me, Luck, I'm wounded," Shanks mocked while playing up the dramatics.

   Yasopp snorted and took a long drink of his ale. He smiled into his cup before looking up to Shanks, "What'cha standing around for Red? Come have a drink with us." He stood up to get Shanks a tankard of ale and a bit of mutton.

"No, no, I'm looking for (Name)," Shanks smiled warmly, "I haven't seen her all day, and you boys know how lonely I can get."

   The crew glanced at one another from across that table. Ben nudged Yasopp with his elbow and received a glare from the sharpshooter. Yasopp huffed, then cleared his throat and said, "Actually Captain, we haven't seen (Name) for awhile. She left before the weather got bad, but we thought she had come back and was with you."

   Shanks stiffened and looked at his crewmate sharply, "Are you serious?"

   All it took was a nod from Yasopp for Shanks to pivot hard on his heels. He was about to climb off the ship when someone grabbed his arm tightly.

   "You can't seriously be thinking of leaving right now?" Benn remarked, looking down at his frantic Captain, "You'll freeze to death."

   Shanks glared up at his first mate. "What do you think is happening to (Name) right now?" he hissed back, "She could be freezing right now."

   Benn grit his teeth crushing the cigarette between his canines. "Captain, she's been gone a long time. I don't want to make assumptions, but you and I are getting frostbitten from just being out here for a few minutes."

   Shanks refused to budge as his skin tingled and redded. "Don't you dare say that," Shanks tried to sound angry, but his voice came out like a scared child'. He couldn't imagine not seeing (Name) again, not hearing her laugh or any of her sarcastic remarks.

   The two stared at each other for several minutes, neither of them breaking eye contact. The flurries of snow began to pile up on and around them. As the second ticked past, Shanks was internally becoming more frantic than ever.

   Finally, Benn swore under his breath. "Fine, we'll all go looking, but put a real coat first, you dumbass," he hauled Shanks back on deck and shoved him in the direction of the Captain's Cabin. Benn hurried back to the gally to inform the rest of their crew.

   It didn't take very long for the entire crew to be aware of the situation and for them to suit themselves up for their new mission. The team had covered themselves from head to toe in coats, hats, gloves, and nearly anything else one could think. If the situation wasn't so dire, their appearance could've been laughable.

   The wind picked up as the crew trudged down the street. The men spread out in small teams in an attempt to cover more ground.

   Shanks fully intended to search on his own; however, Benn insisted that he accompany his Captain. At first, Shanks was irritated by Benn's mothering nature, but the Captain became eternally grateful when Benn was the one to spot (Name) first.

   He'd just happened to be checking down an alleyway when he had found her curled up into a ball, slumped against the icy cobblestone street.

   When Shanks saw Benn jogging out of the alleyway with (Name) in his arms, his heart leaped into his throat. He bolted over to his first mate's side and reached out for her. Shanks choked when he grasped her hand. She didn't have any gloves on, and her skin was swollen and purple. He whimpered and looked up at Benn. "Is she alive?" he murmured, not breaking eye contact with Benn.

   "Her pulse feels dull," Benn reshuffled the woman in his arms, to where she was being held more like a bride than a bag of potatoes, "But it's still a pulse. We need to hurry back to the ship."

   Shanks felt some weight lift from his chest as he pulled out his tiny transponder snail to command an immediate retreat to the ship. He was quick to start the hike back to the Red Force and get (Name) to his crews' medical team. Despite the snow, Shanks fluttered around Benn while trying to get a good look at his lover. He continuously dusted the snow off her face and arms.

   The wind was practically howling like a dying creature by the time the Shanks and Benn managed to get back to the ship. The medical team was frantic when they saw the condition (Name) was in. They didn't even try to protect their Captain from the truth about his partners' health, before carting (Name) off into the infirmary.

   Shanks attempted to follow but was stopped by Benn. "You're going to get in the way captain," the first mate cocked an eyebrow.

   Shanks glared harshly at Benn; he was ready to push past him when they both heard a wailing louder than the winds. Shanks sidestepped his crewmate and bolted toward the door. He swore when the door didn't budge.

   "The medics were smart to lock the door," Yassop remarked, sauntering up to the Captain, "You'll just get in the way."

   Shanks glared over his shoulder at the sniper, before barking, "You didn't see her! You didn't see how bad she looked." He pressed the palms of his hands into his eye, sockets, "She was barely breathing."

   Yasopp stepped closer and placed a gentle hand on Shank's shoulder. He tried to offer a kind smile and said, "(Name) is one of the strongest women I've ever met. I'm sure a bit of frostbite wouldn't kill her."

   Shanks rubbed his eyes and stared at the two men standing before him. "Maybe," he finally sighed, "But if they won't let me, I'll just wait out here for (Name)."

   "Do you want to freeze too?" Benn grunted and pulled his Captain away from the door "(Name) nearly died from the weather, so we can't let you stay out here too."

   Yasopp shoved Shanks towards Benn while reaffirming that the infirmary door was locked. He sighed with relief; his Captain used to be so level headed, but ever since meeting (Name) he's become a bit of a moron.

   Shanks was practically escorted back to the galley with Benn holding his hand. The Captain sat at the table for a few minutes, staring into his mug of ale. The galley was quiet for once, and everyone was staring at the Captain in near silence. Shanks ran his fingers through his hair, and he bounced his leg anxiously.

   As the day ticked on and the storm worsened, Shanks moved from his seat to pacing around the room and doing laps around his crew. They tried their best to calm him down with alcohol, food, and their bad jokes, but nothing seemed to calm Shanks. That was until one of the medical staff stepped inside.

   The doctor was covered in snow, and her face was a tense shade of pink. The doctor was nearly knocked to the ground by Shanks, who grabbed her by the shoulders and demanded to know about (Name) 's condition. The doctor patted her Captain on the back. "Miss. (Name), is stable right now, sir. Most of her body is frostbitten, and she's got a pretty nasty case of pneumonia. Right now, she's conscious and talking a little."

   Shanks sighed deeply and hugged the doctor tightly. The Captain clung to the medic and tried to refrain from crying. He was just so overwhelmed and emotionally exhausted he couldn't help himself.

He straightened himself up and wiped his eyes, "Thank you. Can I see her?" he gazed at the doctor with pleading eyes, "Please?"

   The medic smiled a bit, "Alright, Captain, but we can't let you stay too long. We don't want you getting ill either."

   Shanks grinned brightly and practically shoved the doctor out the door. He couldn't help but smile a bit; she was alive and awake. Everything was going to be okay, and Shanks felt like he could finally be okay.

   The doctor guided him to the room (Name) was staying, and as soon as he laid eyes on her, his smile dimmed. He thanked the doctor and shut the door behind him. He sucked in some air and pulled a chair towards her bed.

   "Hey, (Name) are you awake?" he murmured gently. He smiled a bit when she opened her eyes.

   "Hi, Shanks," she murmured in response, "Are you, okay love?"

   Shanks snorted at her and ran his fingers through her hair. "That's my line, honey, but I'm just fine. We both know how you're doing. What were you thinking of going out in a storm like this?"

   (Name) shakily pulled the blanket closer to her chest and looked away from him. "I just wanted to get some supplies before we left the island," she admitted, "I didn't want you guys to go hungry or thirsty."

   Shanks scooted closer to (Name) 's bed and kissed her ice-cold cheek. "You're a dumbass," Shanks muttered while watching over her, "You can't keep doing that for us. We're big kids, and we don't need you to mother us."

   (Name) laughed a bit before starting to cough a bit. Shanks traced hearts against her shoulder while she coughed. "Easy baby," Shanks murmured, trying to comfort her, "Let it all out."

   After her coughing fit (Name) reached out for Shank's hand. He grasped her hand far tighter than he meant to. "I'm sorry," he gasped when she winced and groaned, "I'm so sorry."

   (Name) managed a smile, "It's alright, honey. I'm tougher than you think I am." (Name) sneezed into the crook of her elbow.

   Shanks smiled a little bit. "You're adorable," he placed a gentle kiss to her cheek, "But you need to get some rest."

   "I will only if you stay with me," (Name) insisted before settling back down underneath her mound of blankets.

 Shanks couldn't help but smile a bit, "Fine, honey, I will. I promise I won't leave your side till you get better.

[aelin-queen-of-terrasen]

Rowaelin for the OTP Drabble #24

Lmao, this was so fun to write. Thank you for the request! This is like, my first try at Rowaelin fanfictions so please don't kill me if it's bad. I promise I'm improving everyday! 😌

Detention Diaries

Pairing: Rowan x Aelin

Word count: 2012 words.

Warnings: A little swearing here and there.

Summary: Rowan Whitethorn has spent three years of high school like a nobody but when the self proclaimed queen of Terrasen High lands them both into detention, maintaining a low profile might be impossible.

Aelin was so done with the day.

She had accidentally stayed up all night reading a book and now, her eyelids itched to shut down. She had already dozed off thrice in Maths class and had it not been for Dorian shaking her every two minutes, Ms Meave would have had Aelin's head.

Even now, she suppressed a yawn as she made her way to the lockers in the hallway. "I am so screwed. I have an English test today."

A few students waved their hands at Aelin in passing and she gave them a smile. Aelin won't say she was popular but she did know a lot of people in the school, thanks to her cousin Aedion being on the football team and Dorian in the student council.

Dorian rolled his eyes as they stopped by his locker. "Don't be dramatic. You can't fail English even half asleep."

Her best friend was searching for something in his locker when the crowd quieted down and he came. Rowan Whitethorn.

She had heard his name whispered enough times in gossip circles to know just what kind of things he was involved in. The guy had a reputation for being a cold hearted asshole, even if Aelin had never even heard him raise his voice.

A hood covered a better part of his face, hiding the tattoo that covered half his pretty face. She could make out the silver hair peaking from beneath the hood, the oversized hoodie doing nothing to flatter the muscles they all knew he had.

He was beautiful.

Dorian noticed her stare, then rolled his eyes. He kissed her cheek, then said, "Don't get into trouble. I have Physics next." And then Dorian was gone.

Aelin tried to ignore the blush that fought it's way onto her cheeks as she walked beside Rowan. She had to remind herself that he never talked to anyone and this would only lead to heartbreak but maybe her sense of self preservation was half asleep too because she said, "Going to English?"

Her words were met with silence. She already knew he was going to English. It was one of the many classes they had in common but an answer would have been nice. She tried again, "Ready for the test today, Rowan?"

"Yes," was all he said.

Then Rowan quickened his pace, possibly to lose Aelin in the crowd but she was the uncrowned queen of Terrasen High. While the students parted to make way for Rowan out of fear, they parted for Aelin out of love and admiration.

She made sure to wave and smile at a few of them as she fought to catch up with Rowan's awfully long strides.

The test hadn't even started when they arrived to the class. Their English teacher Gavriel was sitting in his chair, a thick stack of papers on his desk. When he noticed Aelin entering the class with Rowan, her uncle raised an eyebrow. What trouble are you getting into now?

"No trouble," She promised him out loud as Rowan went to take a seat.

She chose to sit directly behind him and started on her test as soon as it was distributed. The test was fairly easy, even though Aelin had to put some extra efforts to recall a few names and places in between, thanks to the sleep deprivation. At one point, she was ready to throw her pen at the nearest wall and go to sleep then and there. She only managed to stay awake throughout with a sheer force of will.

The real trouble arose when she had finished the test. Not having anything else to do, Aelin decided to poke Rowan with her ruler.

He turned around, his pine green eyes brimming with fury and Aelin raised an eyebrow, face carefully blank. "Something I can help you with, sir?"

"Stop," He said in deep, rough and slightly accented voice that sent shivers down her spine before turning around.

Gods, even his voice was beautiful.

Aelin wrote on the back of her answersheet: Your voice is beautiful. Do you sing too? She crumpled the paper into a ball, then kicked it gently towards Rowan, who had also finished writing the test.

He did not answer back. Silence means affirmation, Mr. Whitethorn. Will I have the pleasure of hearing you sing sometime? She threw the note at the back of his head this time, drawing attention from a few students. For all that she loved being the social butterfly, Aelin was not keen of the rumours that came with popularity but she was having too much fun trying to piss Rowan off.

He opened the note, read it, then shoved it into his pocket. Then he turned around and snarled quietly, "Do not fuck with me, princess."

That had to be the most words she had heard him say ever and ignoring the tone with which he had delivered the words, Aelin felt a small amount of giddiness at the term of endearment he had used. Princess, she sighed to herself.

Her smile must have been very apparent because Uncle Gavriel asked, "Something funny, Miss Galathynius?"

"Why, the question paper," She answered with a lazy wave of her hand, "a child could do this, sir. If you want me to take your tests seriously, at least make them a little difficult."

A few students snickered.

Gavriel rolled his eyes, then went back to keeping an eye on everyone. A minute or two passed and Aelin was already dozing off again. She kicked Rowan's chair and someone whispered her name from behind her.

Aedion was hissing at her from two rows over, "Whatever you are doing, stop it. Whitethorn will kill you off."

Whitethorn did indeed look like he wanted to kill her off but God, Aelin had to be in some mood today because she ignored the glares from both the males, flipping her cousin off and went back to kicking at Rowan's chair. His knuckles were tightly gripping his desk as if he was trying not to strangle her and seeing his expression, she didn't doubt for a second that he gladly would.

"Rowan," she called. "Rowan, will you tell me what shampoo you use? Your hair looks so silky!"

He gave her an incredulous look before smoothing his features into a blank expression. She wrote him another note: Please, tell me what shampoo??? Please? Your hair looks so pretty and they smell SO good. His hair did shine beautifully and they even smelt nice but Aelin did it less out of curiosity and more because she was bored and Rowan Whitethorn was her best chance at entertainment.

When he received the note, Rowan's eyes went wide. He growled back at her. "Gods, do you never stop, Aelin?"

Aelin opened her mouth to answer but her uncle beat her to it. "Miss Galathynius and Mr Whitethorn, if you don't stop now, you're going to find yourself in the principal's office."

"Excuse me, sir, but she is bothering me," Rowan said, his cheeks tinged pink.

Aelin gasped dramatically, rising from her seat. She pointed an accusatory finger at the brooding figure in front of her, then said, "Liar, Liar, pants on fire! You were the one insisting we should be friends!"

"Friends?" Rowan scoffed. "The only thing I'm going to be around you is irritated."

Gavriel was making his way towards them and Aelin had no qualms about throwing him under the bus. He hadn't stopped to think before he had accused her of bothering him, had he? Why should she?

Because he was telling the truth. You're not, some sane voice said from the back of her mind.

Aelin did not pay it any attention. "That's not what you were saying out in the hallway when we were flirting!"

Aelin took a huge amount of satisfaction when Rowan's cheeks flushed with colour, the tips of his ears turning a dark red. "Flirting? With you? I'd rather die in a ditch—"

"DETENTION, BOTH OF YOU!" Her uncle bellowed.

Rowan let out a loud growl of protest. Aelin just shrugged, a smug smile on her face as she sat back down.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Rowan had never been more pissed. He did not know anyone as insufferable as Aelin Galathynius with her reputation around the school as a heartbreaker, the self-proclaimed princess of Terrasen High. He loathed how hard she laughed sometimes, drawing all attention towards herself. He loathed how her eyes crinkled, the gold rings around the turquoise shining brighter every time she smiled.

She had everyone in the school at her beck and call and it pissed Rowan off.

Even now, she sauntered into detention with a swagger as if there was no other place she would rather be. The class was empty, save for Rowan and a dark haired guy sitting in the back. Aelin noticed him too and raised an eyebrow, "Why, Fenrys darling, what did you do to end up in this hellscape?"

Fenrys had a wry smile playing on his lips. "It's not Hell if you're here, sweetheart."

Right. If Rowan tried hard enough, he could recall a conversation in the locker rooms about the school player, Fenrys Moonbeam leaving some party with Aelin Galathynius, both of them drunk as shit. Fenrys, the quarterback of the football team with his charming smiles and bedroom eyes was the kind of guy Aelin Ashryver Galathynius would date.

Fenrys twisted in his seat to get a better look at the spawn of satan. She gave him an intimate, coy smile—the kind that you only reserve for some select few people. Rowan shifted in his seat, suddenly feeling like an intruder. He coughed loudly. "If you are going to undress each other with your eyes, have the decency to find yourself a room."

Aelin's answering smile was full of fire—wicked, dangerous wildfire. "Jealous, Whitethorn?"

Rowan scoffed, wishing he had the power to make her choke on air with one look. He had to be in some mood today. Thank the three faced goddess that Lorcan was absent today. Rowan knew Lorcan would give him an endless amount of shit if his best friend saw Rowan drive himself insane over childish, insolent, bratty Aelin Galathynius.

At least she and Fenrys were sitting two seats apart now, whispering quietly to each other. When five minutes passed and no teacher entered, Aelin rose from her seat and walked towards the window.

"What are you doing?" Rowan asked, then frowned. Maybe he shouldn't have spoken.

The expression on Aelin's face definitely told him he should not have spoken at all. She was smirking that obnoxious smirk of hers as she drawled out, "Not all of us are obedient little students, Whitethorn. See you around, preferably when you've grown some balls."

Rowan huffed. During his years in high school, he had always thought of Aelin as an arrogant, immature troublemaker. Now he could add rude to that list too.

Fenrys was already standing guard on the door. "Quick, Aelin! Mr Gavriel is going to come our way any minute."

Then Aelin turned, giving him a slow, simpering smile that clearly conveyed her thoughts about what she thought of his insistence to remain in detention. Scared, Whitethorn? And gods damn him, he was scared, not of being caught skipping but what an hour spent with Aelin might do to him. It was the challenge in those turquoises eyes, the taunt hidden behind her smile that had him rising from his seat.

She stepped back, letting him jump out of the window first. He was wondering if he should extend a hand to help or not when she leaped out with a grace he had never known she possessed.

Aelin was grinning, wider than ever and this may be the worst idea he had ever had but Rowan asked, "Where to?"

When the blonde haired girl straightened, shoulders pulled back and confident like a Queen, he decided that even if this was as likely to end in disaster as anything else, Rowan knew he owed it to himself to find out.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

I am not sure if I should finish this here. If enough people want to read further, I might turn this into a multi chapter fic so feel free to drop your thoughts on that in the comments! Also, if anyone would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!

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