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redroomreflections · 4 months

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The Ghost in The Window Chapter 1

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: As a former child star and one-half of one of Hollywood's most powerful couples, you’re no stranger to the dangers of the spotlight. Life has just begun to settle for you as you navigate motherhood, marriage, and your career. When a fan-turned-stalker gets a bit too close for comfort, everything is turned upside down

Note: Uploading the WIPs here too...

W/c: 8.4k

No one tells you how surreal it feels once you’re standing up there. A few moments ago you had been waiting patiently in your seat, eyes forward, a polite smile on your face as the nominees were read. Your palms are sweaty as you clutch your stylist, Loki’s, hand in yours. He gives you a comforting squeeze as you listen for your name. The giant camera is turned toward your face and suddenly you have to put on a show. It’s been like this every awards season. Only this time you’re the one on display. You give a curt nod, looking everywhere but the camera, as you think about what to do if you lose. It’s impossible to think of all the scenarios now that you’re here.

“And the winner goes to." Zendaya Coleman opens the envelope slowly. The smile on her face tells you she’s happy about whomever the winner is. You close your eyes and wait for the disappointment. Only it never comes. “Y/n, Y/l/n.” Your name slips from her lips as smooth as butter and you don’t know what to do. You’re amazed by the massive amount of cheers you receive as you stand to go and accept your reward. You kiss Loki’s cheek, and then your mother who is sitting next to you. You’re missing someone else though you know she’s there in spirit. You grip the hem of your dress to make the train easier to drag along with you. It’s a simple one-shoulder rust-brown satin gown that hugs your curves in all the right places. It was something you picked out months ago and sure enough, it’s done you right.

The moments leading up to your acceptance speech were a blur for everything that’s happening now. You’re standing here in front of your peers and coworkers. Words seem to slip from your mind as you hold the seven-pound award to your chest. Your eyes scan the crowd for what feels like forever before you gather your bearings and speak. You step a little closer to the microphone so everyone could hear you.

“Wow,” You take another deep breath. “To say I wasn’t expecting to win is an understatement. I think we all go through those moments in life where we know someone much more talented or charming or any of those things could very well be standing up here too. I’ve always practiced what I was going to say but none of it seems right.” You look around. “I want to thank the tv academy for acknowledging the hard work and dedication that I have put into this project, my fellow costars, and the rest of production. Day in and day out they work so hard to bring these stories alive. I want to thank my fellow nominees who brought their best time and time again. It is an honor to be in the same company as these people. I want to thank our director Brad Lee Scott. He was so honest and welcoming and encouraging to get me to this spot. I would like to thank my beautiful wife, Natasha, who couldn’t make it tonight but I know she’s on the other side of the world cheering me on right now. What can I say, my love? You’ve helped me through it all. Late-night script reading, early morning coffee runs, and even our second child's birth. There’s no one I would rather do any of this with.”

You can see the countdown of the clock showing your speech time is almost up. “I also want to thank my parents. Their immense dedication and support to my dreams never go unnoticed. Finally, I want to say thank you to my kids. I know my little girl, Rosie, is at home watching. It’s way past your bedtime but you're allowed to stay up and see Mommy win just this time.” There’s a polite chuckle from the crowd. You hold up the award. “Thank you all again. Goodnight.” You blow a kiss to the camera before turning away.

You follow Zendaya off the stage and through the wings where there are a thousand and one cameras all on you. Your makeup artist, Darcy Lewis, meets you halfway in order to give you a touch-up. She begins by fixing your lipstick in silence. There’s already enough hustle and bustle around you as you’re greeted and congratulated by several big-name tv stars. At one point, Ellen Pompeo asks to take a picture with you, and you almost faint.

The rest of the night goes by rather quickly and you’re off to your after Emmy’s interview. There’s not a lot you have to do for this part. You’re a bit fatigued, your chest is sore from lack of pumping, and you want nothing more than to go home and cuddle with your kids. Yet being here in this moment is also more than you could imagine. You’re stepping onto the minuscule yellow tape someone has attached to the floor. You raise your chin and pose, eyes forward, shoulders back as you grip the trophy in your hand. It’s not your official award. That one will be engraved and mailed to your house within the next few weeks. For now, you had this one to hold and love on.

“Y/n over here” and “Y/n this way” are all shouted out to you as each interview tries to get your attention first. It’s only when your publicist, Roxy, quiets them down do you attempt to answer a question. Being up here as the center of attention can be overwhelming. Especially when your attention is being pulled every which way.

Finally, one man, someone you recognize from Entertainment Tonight offers up a question.

“So, Y/n, what can you say about season two of Taste of the Wilde?” He asks.

You give him a nod of acknowledgment before you speak. “I think that I don’t have a single clue.” There’s a burst of shared laughter from everyone in the room. “I’m simply a vessel.” You shrug. “I genuinely don’t have a full answer for you. I think what we did this season is very special. What we showed and the journey that, Wilde, my character went through was amazing. It was tasteful and also genuine. It would be great if we had another season. I would be happy to come back and delve through a lot of things. I also think that this season could be great as a standalone. I have faith that the writer’s room is more than competent and talented enough to bring everything together if we get the opportunity.” You finish.

Your years of media training come in handy as you navigate the questions being thrown at you. Some are harder than others but you give something that you hope they are satisfied with. You’re almost to your last question when you hear a collective gasp. For a second, you think a bigger star is about to enter the room. You slowly whip your head to the right and find there’s no one. When you feel strong arms around your waist and a peck on your cheek you immediately know who it is.

Your entire body warms and your stomach fills with butterflies as you tilt your head to see your wife Natasha. She’s wearing a dark green, asymmetrical backless gown that has a dangerously high slit on the thigh. It’s borderline tacky but on Natasha, it never could be. You use your unoccupied hand up to stroke her cheek before giving her a gentle peck.

“Nat, what are you doing here?” You speak lowly so only she could hear. “I thought you were in London for another week?”

“I couldn’t miss the biggest night of my girl’s life,” She murmurs before pecking you again. It’s easy for you to feel lost in her presence. The noise around you dissipates as you show off your award to her. You’re pulled back to reality by the flashing lights and shouts around you as the photographers beg you to pose.

“Natasha, how do you feel about your wife’s big win?” Someone yells out and it catches her attention. Her eyes never leave yours as she answers.

“I am so proud of my wife,” Natasha grins. “I am always so incredibly enamored and in awe of her talent and the work that she does. I am her biggest supporter and I’m so glad that everyone else sees what I see every day.” Natasha looks away to flash an award-winning smile at the camera. She’s speaking so smoothly and you hope she understands you won’t be the only winner tonight.

You spend a few more minutes mingling with the interviewers before you’re ushered to your truck. Natasha helps you inside first before she climbs in behind you. Roxy holds the door open to make sure you’re both inside safely.

“You don’t need a ride?” You bend at the waist to address her. Her thumbs are working overtime as she types at rapid speed. There’s no doubt in your mind that she has your entire schedule planned out for the next month.

“No, I’ll find my way,” Roxy dismisses. “For now you two go home and kiss those beautiful babies for me. Celebrate! I will call you tomorrow afternoon with the details of the press tour. Enjoy.” She says before slamming the door shut. She taps the glass of the car to signal your driver, Johnny, it’s safe to move.

You’re silent for a few more seconds. You’re being pulled away from the events and out towards the still-busy Los Angeles streets. It’s a forty-minute drive from here to your home so you might as well get comfortable. You lean back against Natasha as she wraps her arms around you once again. She feels solid and warm and you lift up to look down at her physique.

“You’ve been working hard on this movie?” You comment. “I like it.”

“Hmm, I’m glad that you do.” She mutters before she kisses your cheek. “I’m so proud of you, baby. I can’t wait to get you home.” She whispers a little closer to your ear. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Natasha.” You take her hand in yours to run your thumb across her knuckles. “Rose and Grace have missed you too.” You offer. It’s been two months since Natasha’s been home. Almost a month since you’ve seen her in person. She’s just wrapping up her reprising role as an assassin in one of the world’s largest movie franchises. Which meant a lot of her scenes were shot overseas. It was no big deal to you. Not when money was no object for you. She would come home as often as she could and you’d fly to her with the girls in tow often. The frequent distance could put a strain on even the most solid of marriages. Sometimes yours too but you’re making it work.

“I can’t wait to kiss their little cheeks,” Natasha smiles tiredly. “I took the first flight I could out here. It wasn’t even first class.” She informs you and you laugh.

“You’re spoiled,” You tap her nose. “Oh, I can’t wait to get home.” You lie your head back against her shoulder. “I could soak for days. Remind me again why I opt to wear such dangerously high heels?”

“They make your ass look great,” Natasha says. You glance up at Johnny who doesn’t seem to care about what you’re discussing. It’s not like he hasn’t heard everything already. “It’s the truth.”

“I’m glad you still think so,” You tuck your face into her neck. It’s a moment of vulnerability tucked inside of your small talk. Natasha knows firsthand how insecure you’re feeling after giving birth just five months ago. Though you’ve been in the gym day in and day out there are still small differences that you notice like your thighs being a bit thicker, your breasts being at least a cup size bigger than they used to be, and your flat stomach isn't as flat as it used to be. You don’t want to seem vain or shallow but sometimes you struggle with the changes. It doesn’t help that the media and public points them out quite often. Natasha is always there to help you through.

“I do think so and if we have time I’m more than happy to show you tonight,” She gives you a lingering kiss on the cheek. Your heart beats in anticipation of just what this night might entail for you. It’s been a long few months and you’re more than ready to be intimate with your wife again. You’re just thinking of the ways she could rip this dress off you without actually destroying it when the black Escalade approaches the gate of your home.

Johnny uses the button attached to the ceiling of the car to signal for the power gate to open. It does so slowly to reveal the contemporary Spanish home with white paint and red awnings. It stands tall with five bedrooms and four bathrooms. Certainly a bit too big for your family of four but you have a feeling you’d be filling it with more children in the near future. Johnny rushes out of the car to help you both. Natasha exits first and then you.

“Thank you, Jonny, it was so nice seeing you,” You bid him goodnight. He doesn’t pull off until you’re both inside the house. You don’t even wait before you’re kicking off your shoes and following the sound of the television. In the living room is where you find your daughter, Rose, asleep on the couch surrounded by a pile of pillows. The tv plays some commercial in the background and you reach for the remote to turn it off. That’s when Rose’s nanny, Carla, enters the room.

“Congratulations Miss,” Carla greets you with a hug. “I knew you were a shoo-in for that award. There’s too much talent in one body for them not to recognize it.

“Thank you so much, Carla,” You both turn to Rose. “How was she tonight?”

“Oh she was fine,” Carla dismisses. She walks around the room to pick up forgotten toys. “She wanted to stay awake and wait up for you. I tried to tell her it would be pretty late but there’s no arguing with a four-year-old. I assumed you would be attending one of the after-parties.” She inquires.

“Well, I was, but…” You gesture to Natasha who’s now in a robe and slippers. Boy does she change fast.

“Oh, Misses Romanoff, you’re home,” Carla excitedly walks over to her to hug Natasha. “You’re going to make little Rose’s day when she wakes up. I thought you had another week in London?”

“That’s what I said,” You agree.

“Well, I have to go back in two days to wrap up my final scenes,” Natasha says. “The boss gave me time off to come and spend Y/n’s big night with her.”

“Oh, well, don’t let me ruin the fun.” Carla dumps the last toy into the toy box.

“I’ll carry Rose up to the bed,” Natasha offers. “You can take the next two days off. We got it here.” Natasha says. Carla gives a few more praises before she disappears to her bedroom on the first floor.

Natasha walks over to the couch, bending slightly so that she can scoop Rose into her arms. Rose doesn’t startle for a second. She rests her head against Natasha’s shoulder with soft breaths. You follow them through the house and up to the front staircase. You make sure the security system is on and the doors are locked before you make your way to the second floor. You walk into Rose’s bedroom to kiss her goodnight just as Natasha does. She’s practically deadweight when you tuck her into her bed. Natasha flicks on her favorite starry globe nightlight. You leave them to their devices as you walk over to the nursery to find your youngest. Grace is fussy and appears to be waking up from her deep slumber when you approach her crib. Her feet kick out against the mattress and she begins to push herself up against her favorite plushie. You don’t waste time scooping her up and walking over to the rocking chair in a corner of the room. Breastfeeding in a ball gown is a bit harder than usual. After a little trial and error, you’re able to free yourself from the confines of the straps so that you can feed Grace from one side first.

Grace doesn’t open her eyes, though she moves instinctually, rooting for your breasts before she finds the nipple to latch onto. You press your toes against the plush fur rug to rock the both of you. You hold your breath in relief as you feel the first initial letdown. Grace hungrily suckles, her tiny hand holding you in place, as she rests. You don’t even notice Natasha has come in until she’s snapping a few pictures for her own memory.

“To post or not to post?” She wonders aloud before showing you the candids. They’re pretty tasteful pictures. Nothing of importance would be shown. Grace’s face is hidden and so is your chest. There’s pure adoration and love on your face in both pictures. In fact, the picture is really only the outline of your body and the baby. Anyone could tell what you’re doing in it. You’re still in your gown and the soft glow of the nightlight provides the perfect glow against your skin. It looks like something out of an art gallery. Even the most talented photographer wouldn’t be able to catch such a moment you think. A sense of calm emits from it and you give Natasha the okay to post them. She does so with a few taps of her thumbs before she tucks the phone into the pocket of her robe. She reaches her hand out to rub her fingers across Grace’s cheeks.

“She’s getting chunky,” Natasha comments, and you hum. “I’m missing so much.” She says with a tinge of sadness.

“You can burp her when I’m done,” You suggest. “She’ll probably need a diaper change too.” You joke and Natasha catches it.

“I would love to,” Natasha says. She sits with you and watches in complete awe as you help Grace switch sides with a bit of protest from her. She whines and opens her mouth wide ready to cry.

“Ohh, shh, Mommy’s only making sure you’re full,” You whisper to her. Grace settles against you once again. Her screwed-up features give way to pure serenity as she falls asleep again. Before you know it you’re done and you’re handing her off to Natasha.

“I started a bath it should be ready for us,” Natasha calls after you. You walk down the hall towards your bedroom and can in fact hear the water running. Your mind is still reeling from everything that has gone on for the past twenty-four hours. You check your phone, not even caring to look through the hundreds of notifications before you go on Twitter. Under Roxy’s approval, you send a tweet to thank everyone.

Feels surreal. Thank you all for your continued support.

You end the tweet with a bunch of emojis before you close out the app.

“You know, you’re in here, you’re supposed to be inside of the bath,” Natasha steps into the bathroom. She doesn’t wait for you to tell her to help with your gown. She already knows. She takes her sweet time unzipping it. She delights in the sight of smooth skin revealed to her with every inch uncovered. Finally, she takes your hand and allows you to step out when it pools at your ankles. She gives a brow raised at the tiny black thong you’re wearing, prompting you to give a spin so that she can see it. “Damn,” She mutters to herself. You don’t try to cover up or shy away from her gaze. She makes you feel wanted in every way possible. Next, she throws off her own robe before climbing in first. You get in after her and lean against her front. The water is scalding hot and eases the pain in your aching muscles.

Natasha takes her time to pour you both a glass of wine. It’s then you notice all of the candles and the soft music playing.

“Oh, so you just knew you were going to get some tonight?” You sip from your glass.

“No,” Natasha denies. “I knew you would want to decompress. I was hoping that I would be able to fuck you tonight. Big difference.”

“Ahh,” You nod. Her calloused hands come around to grip your waist so that you’re pressed just a bit closer. You can feel her hardened nipples against your back. The water sloshes around you with every movement as she tucks her chin on your shoulder. “I’m so happy you came.” You say again.

“I’m so happy too,” Natasha presses a kiss against your shoulder. “I loved seeing you up there. I watched for a few seconds before. You speak incredibly well. You commanded the space. Did you feel anxious?”

“I did,” You sigh. Natasha’s hands haven’t left your body since you stepped into the bath. She touches you as if she’s trying to memorize every spot and if you didn’t know any better she is. “It’s getting better though. Being up there and realizing I deserve to be in the space just as much as everybody else works wonders for the ego.”

“Mhmm,” Natasha agrees. “You know what would work well for mine?” She asks just as her right-hand ghost over your breasts. She knows you’re way too sensitive there for her to touch since breastfeeding but just like the rest of your body she doesn’t miss a beat. Her left-hand parts your legs for you in a show of strength.

“What?” You play along though you know what she’s about to say.

“Making you cum,” She whispers into your ear. Her fingers dip into your wet heat with practiced precision. She stops over coarse hair, delighting in the fact that you haven’t shaved, and it’s just how she likes it. She finds your clit, applying minimal pressure, and even then your hips jump. You close your eyes and allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of Natasha as she starts with slow and light circles. “I’ve missed touching you. Feeling you. Smelling you.” Natasha nips gently at your exposed neck. Thank the heavens for whoever invented bobby pins and updos. “All I could think about on that plane was being inside of you and hearing you whine and moan for me.” As if on cue you do exactly as she says. Your voice is soft and airy as your hips follow her fingers for friction. “Shh, it’s okay, baby, I'll take care of you.”

Natasha doesn’t disappoint. She enters you in one quick movement, giving you no time to prepare, and you gasp loudly. Her thrusting starts off slow and deep. Her thumb flutters across your clit with every rock of your hips and you’re a goner. You don’t even have time to catch your breath before you’re coming with her name on your tongue. She leaves kisses along your neck and shoulder as you come down. Your head lolls to the side as you finally exhale.

“Good?” She asks and you nod.

“So good,” You turn to her to kiss her. You look over the tub to see how much water has spilled over the lip of the tub. “I get to have you all night?”

“For as long as you want,” Natasha promises.

You take it as a challenge.

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

It’s sometime later in the morning you awaken. You open your eyes to an empty bed and the sound of crying and noise from somewhere in the distance. The sheets are haphazardly thrown across the bed with you tangled in them. The duvet is on the floor and there’s no sign of Natasha. You look around to see she’s hung up your gown along with hers on one of the racks. You reach over to check the time on your phone. It’s nine am. You’re still feeling exhausted after several rounds of lovemaking. Maybe you can sneak in more sleep before the girls awaken. You’re just about to close your eyes when you hear the creak of the bedroom door.

Rose walks into the room first, dragging her sled behind her, with Grace and your two-year-old Shi Tzu, Mocha, seated next to her. You don’t utter a word as she drags both of them all the way to your side of the bed where she eventually stops. You sit up with wide eyes and an amused expression as you inspect all of them. Rose looks so proud of herself as she shows off her baby sister and the dog.

“Mornin’ Mommy,” Rose gives you a small wave. “I saw you on the tv last night. Happy Awards Day.”

“You did?” You smile. “That’s awesome and thank you.” You lean over to give her a kiss. “What are you doing?”

“Playing dress up, see?” Rose walks over to lift Gracie in her arms. She has a bit of a tough time as the five-month-old weighs practically a quarter of her own weight. Mocha doesn’t give her time to grab him either before he’s off to hide somewhere where she isn’t. Rose struggles to place her sister on the bed and you assist her before an accident happens. “I dressed her all by myself.”

“Whose clothes are these?” You ask. You inspect Grace who doesn’t seem a bit phased to be her sister’s doll. She has on a beanie, with a pink and yellow frilled top, along with pink polka-dotted pants that you’re sure are actually one of Rose’s dolls' outfits. “Why did you let your sister do this to you, Grace?” You ask and don’t get a response of course.

“No, Mommy, she likes it.” Rose climbs onto the bed. “She was real quiet too.” Though you think that’s a lie considering the amount of crying you just heard moments ago.

“Where’s your Mama?” You ask and as if on cue Natasha walks into the room with a platter of food.

“I’m here,” Natasha announces as she comes around to the other side of the bed. “I made breakfast.”

“I helped too,” Rose inserts herself into the conversation.

“Oh, yeah,” Natasha nods. “She’s really good at pouring juice. She didn't make a mess or anything.” You reach for a piece of bacon to share with Rose. “Grace is probably hungry too. I tried to give her a bottle of pumped milk but she wouldn't take it.”

“She likes Mommy’s boob better,” Rose seems to be the baby whisperer or something.

“Don’t we all?” Natasha quips and you nudge her with a warning look. You grab Grace and position her so that she can nurse while you eat your own breakfast. “So what’s on the agenda today?”

“What’s that?” Rose stuffs a grape into her mouth. Ever so often she’ll reach over and tap Grace’s hand to get her attention. This means in turn Grace will unlatch just to smile at her sister. This makes feeding time a bit longer than you’d like but you won’t complain.

“An agenda is like a list of things to do,” Natasha explains. “We could go to the park or maybe to the movies.”

“Nah,” Rose shakes her head. “We can go outside in the backyard. I can show you my flips, Mama.”

“She has been taking gymnastics very seriously,” You say.

“Sounds like a plan then,” Natasha bites into her waffle. A day at home with her three favorite girls was all she would need.

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

You’re on the patio of your backyard, lounging around on one of the chairs, as Natasha runs around the backyard with the girls. You’re in a perfect bliss bubble as you relax for the day. Rose’s fits of laughter and even Grace’s shrieks of happiness are like music to your ears as you listen to them play. You join in from time to time. Your favorite is when Rose invites you inside her tiny doll house that is really only for children. You both squeeze in and play pretend for as long as Rose likes. Eventually, your energy is a bit drained and so you come to sit down and check some messages. Mostly you’re talking to your parents about how last night ended minus the intimate details. Your mother ended up going to a party with Loki where she met Ava Duvernay and a couple of other celebrities. Your dad had opted to stay home last night.

You switch over to Twitter and look through the notifications. There’s a sea of them but one of them is a constant that you’re noticing. You click on the page, recognizing the username as one of the bigger followers you have, and you like a couple of their posts congratulating you. You scroll down the girl’s page some more. Her entire Twitter page is dedicated to you. You’re no stranger to fan pages so you don’t find it super weird. You click to open up a few of her pictures. You’ve met her a few times it appears. Her face is a bit muddled in your head with the number of people you’ve encountered in your career. Though she seems persistent in her endeavors of meeting you. You admire the dedication and so without much thought, you send her a message to her open DMS.

Hello, I saw your tweets. Thank you so much for your continued support. I hope you are doing well xx.

The message is kind and to the point. It’s not very personalized but still it comes from you and you think she’d appreciate that much more than a few likes on her page. What results is several messages back though you’re not able to respond to them. Natasha comes to sit next to you effectively stealing your attention away.

“That girl is full of energy,” Natasha takes a few deep breaths.

“She gets it from you,” You set your phone down under you. “You know, she has a new hiding spot upstairs. Her bedroom has some sort of hideaway attic thing. Carla found someone to clean it out and paint it. She’s going to put pillows and decorations in there for her.”

“Cool,” Natasha moves so that your feet rest in her lap. She begins to give you a massage all the while keeping her eyes on the girls. “ I will check it out later tonight.” Natasha doesn’t speak for a few long moments. “Your new movie. How long is filming for that?” Natasha asks.

“About three months. Training starts in a couple of weeks though so I’d bump it up to four.” You don’t want to think about work right now. “Why?”

“I was thinking maybe after you wrap we could take a little break,” Natasha toys with the idea. “Rose and Grace are so young. We’re spending all of this time working. A lot of it is on opposite sides of the world. I want them to know me. To know us together. Maybe a few months of vacation. How does that sound?”

“It sounds lovely,” You sit up to kiss her.

“You’re okay with that? I mean I know you took a break towards the end of your pregnancy,” Natasha begins to ramble. “ You just wrapped up on your show and the movie is beginning. I just want us together.”

“Natasha, it’s fine, truly,” You caress her cheek so that she can look into your eyes. “I want us together too. Do I get to pick the place?”

“If you insist,” She rolls her eyes. You grin. This would be fun.

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

Natasha spends another night with you and the girls before it’s time for her to go back. You see her off with a kiss and hug goodbye. Rose has minimal tears though she does cling to Natasha before the redhead can leave.

“Mama, don’t go,” Rose pouts as she raises her arms for Natasha to pick her up. “Stay here please?”

“I’m only gone for a few more days and then I will be back,” Natasha promises. “Then we can play and cuddle and do everything you want to do.”

“But, I want to do that now,” Rose’s bottom lip pokes out even more. Her adorable raspy voice adds to the cute factor. Your heart breaks for her as you listen to their conversation. You bounce Grace in your arms and she’s none the wiser about what’s going on around her. “You have to stay with me and Mommy. What if the bad guys come?”

“The bad guys? What bad guys?” Alarm bells go off in both of your heads.

“My dreams,” Rose elaborates. “You always make it better.”

“Well, how about this,” Natasha breathes a sigh of relief and so do you. Usually Rose has referred to the paparazzi as bad guys. Often they need to be reminded not to get too close when you’re with the kids. Their way of harassment can scare the little girl. Which is why you try to keep her out of the spotlight as much as you can. She didn’t ask to be famous. She carries Rose over to her luggage where she pulls out a nearly empty bottle of her favorite perfume. “If you spray this in your closet and under your bed no bad guy can get you. It sends them all away and you’ll be able to sleep just fine.”

Rose inspects the bottle. “This is perfume?” She asks and you hide your snort. She’s smart.

“It is but it’s special perfume. It’s mine and they know I mean business.”

“Oh, okay,” Rose nods as if that makes sense. “How many sleeps when you get back?”

“Five sleeps until I’m back, Princessa,” Natasha promises. “Will you be a good girl for Mommy and protect your sister?”

“I’m always a good girl,” Rose raises a brow as if Natasha insinuates she is otherwise.

“I don’t know about always but you’ve come pretty close,” You point out. “Say bye to Mama so she can go.”

“Bye, Mama.” Rose wraps her little arms around Natasha’s neck and squeezes. “Be safe.”

“Okay, I will be safe.” Natasha kisses her cheek before letting her down. She steps over to you to give Grace a final kiss. Then she gives you one too before she’s off. You watch from the driveway as Johnny helps with her bags and drives her away.

Now it was back to your lives without her for just a while longer.

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

In the next few days, you’re a pretty busy bee. Carla takes care of the girls while you’re on the whirlwind press tour after your Emmy win. A lot of people want you on their talk show as you’re a hot topic right now. Ultimately you decide to go on Kelly Clarkson’s show first. She’s a long-time acquaintance and you’ve known her forever.

You’re backstage getting your hair and makeup done as you scroll through Twitter again. Grace and Rose are playing on the floor while Carla keeps them occupied. The Twitter app is again filled with notifications and it’s a bit intimidating. It’s the first time you’ve checked it in days. The previous fan page you checked out has come across your timeline again as a suggested person to follow. You don’t search your name ever so it’s quite interesting to see her outside of your notifications. You look through her posts again with genuine curiosity.

There’s a picture of you and Natasha at the after-Emmys interview with the caption “I just know they have great sex.” which creeps you out only a little. It’s the tamer version of what you have seen some people say. While it’s inappropriate you wouldn’t expect anything less from a fan page. You wonder how old this girl is exactly, scrolling back up to her bio to see she’s just turned nineteen. She’s young. Harmless.

You find that her name is Carissa and she lives in Los Angeles too. She’s a journalism student at USC and she has her head on straight. You’re going through her page a little more, only looking up when Darcy asks you to, as you read through some of her tweets out loud.

“I found this girl,” You inform them. “She’s a fan of mine and she has almost fifteen thousand followers.”

“Wow?”

“I think it’s just from being a fan of mine,” You show them the page. “She seems to know a lot about us. I mean an insane amount. How did she even know Natasha was flying back to London?”

“Girl, those pages watch you like a hawk,” Roxy says from her spot over on the couch. “Their methods are insane and sometimes even I don’t know how they’re getting out information.”

“Let me see?” Darcy asks you to tilt the phone so that she can see better. “Oh, I’ve met that girl before at a party. She kept bragging about how she snuck in and was waiting for you to come. She was a bit disappointed when you didn't show. She’s come to a few of your events. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was out there right now.“

“That’s interesting,” You’re not sure of the correct word to describe it. Growing up as a child star you’ve had your fair share of people that have taken a bit more extreme interest in you. Your parents were always there to protect you and keep you safe. Especially when you grew up in the same era as Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen. Your fame was a bit tamer. They kept you in a normal public school, you had extracurriculars, and you just so happened to be on tv. There was no multimillion-dollar company or a countdown until your eighteenth birthday. That you know of.

Suddenly there’s a knock at the door and Roxy moves to answer it. Kelly Clarkson herself has come to say hi and introduce herself to you.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Kelly greets you as she comes to give you a hug. “It’s so nice to see you. Look at you all dolled up. You look beautiful.”

“Oh, thank you, so do you,” You kiss her cheek. “I’m so happy to be here.”

“I’m excited to do this interview,” Kelly laughs with you. “Who are these two? Are these your kids?”

“Yes, this is Rose,” You introduce them. “And my youngest Grace.”

“Oh, hi, Rose, a flower name, I love those,” Kelly kneels to say hi. Rose, the extrovert, shakes Kelly’s hand. “It must be fun coming with your Mama to work right?”

“Yeah,” Rose nods. “I can get makeup too?”

“We shall see,” You promise Rose.

“Well, I was just coming to check in on you,” Kelly smiles. “I like to make sure everything’s good before the show starts. How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling great,” You talk with Kelly a little bit longer. She even plays with the girls for a while before it’s time to take your place.

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

You put on your show smile when Kelly introduces you to her audience. You walk out with measure steps and even give her a hug. As if you hadn’t seen her twenty minutes prior. She talks about your show with you and everything else going on in your life. The questions have been prescreened to Roxy so there’s nothing inappropriate about the entire thing.

“So, I must say, I was an avid watcher of Taste of the Wilde,” Kelly seems in awe of you. “Every week you made something magical and I’m sure like me the rest of the world was cheering you on. You have some acting chops girl. Please tell me how you do it?”

“Well, lots of practice,” You think over your answer. “ The material was tough at first and it’s vastly different from what I did growing up and also the tv shows I’ve done in the past. The transition was a little rough for me but with my wife’s help and my acting coach, I was able to hone in on some of the skills I haven’t used in a long time. I had to dig really deep to learn and relate to my character so that it doesn’t seem like just some random chick acting on the screen.”

“You captured that essence of this character perfectly,” Kelly compliments. “And you know I was amazed I’m going to keep saying it. I was amazed. I’ve watched you grow up. We all watched you grow up. From that adorable little girl on the tv and in movies to this sexy bombshell of a woman who can hold her own. You can act your ass off and not many child stars have that.”

“You know you’re right,” You look over to the audience. “When you’re young, you rely on the cute factor. Casting directors want you to look good and make sure you’re able to recite and remember your lines. You can ride that wave of cuteness until you’re about sixteen.” You weigh the options. “Then you can kind of fizzle and burn out. The roles are more serious. It takes a lot of you to grow and show the world and let them know to take you seriously. I struggled a lot with that but I’m here now and it’s working for me.”

“It’s working quite well,” Kelly congratulates you on your win. “Now, I want people to see. The show I first saw you in. It was a nice sitcom back in the 90s with Sheryl Lee Ralph and a bunch of other 90s starlets. You played the adorable baby sister, Candy, can you tell me about that? Do you have memories of that age?” A picture appears of you as a little kid and the audience awws.

“N-no, not exactly,” You answer. “I remember bits and pieces. I was around six on that show. I think. We’ll have to ask my parents but I was around first-grade age. I remember a lot was happening and I didn’t think of it as work. It was my normal everyday job.”

“That’s great.” Kelly continues. “You know a lot of child stars say the same thing. How it was normal for them. How it was so fun. Then like you mentioned they reach a certain age where everything gets serious and maybe there are times when it's not so fun. I remember Jodie Sweetin talking about being younger and someone had followed her into a bathroom and that was a scary moment for her. Have you ever had something like that happen?”

“Hmm,” You think. “I wouldn’t say to that degree. There was a time I was in the mall. I was with my older sister and my dad. Someone, a man, asked to take a picture with me. Well with us both because my sister, Jennie, was also on a different sitcom for much longer than I was. So I remember we sit next to this man to take the picture or whatever. All of a sudden, he grabs me and like, poses me in the way he wants the picture to go. He didn’t mean any harm I don’t think but my dad was pissed. He could tell I was uncomfortable and so he kind of pulled us away and he gave this guy an earful. I mean an earful. I still remember it to this day because the guy was so apologetic and I think for the first time that’s when I knew as a ‘celebrity’ or a ‘star’ people don’t really see you as human. They form these parasocial relationships and they don’t think any of how they make you feel with what they say and do. Which is really dangerous at times, especially at six and even now at my current age.”

“That must have been scary,” Kelly sympathizes. “So I met your daughter. She’s such a star. I swear she’s a mini you. I only say this to inquire. Has she asked to be an actor? Or in the business at all? Has she shown an interest?”

“My daughter, Rose, she’s four,” You supply to the rest of the crowd. “She is a little diva. She is smart and quick thinking. She would be the perfect child actor. This may sound creepy but I only mean that she’s already like in the space of professionalism and sass and personality that casting directors look for. With that being said, Natasha and I have no interest in putting her in anything until she’s a little older and can understand a bit more. She’s asked. Trust me she has asked but I think right now we don’t want her or our youngest in the spotlight at all.”

“That’s completely understandable,” Kelly says. Much of the interview goes like this until you’re on to the game segment. Kelly talks about how you recorded an album as a teen and you almost die of embarrassment. She even asks you to sing and you do pretty well.

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

Before you know it everything is over and you’re on your way out of the door. Rose, who has skipped her nap, has opted to be in your arms for the rest of this leg of the day. As always, there are fans waiting outside and you’re about to say no to them but you figure you can sign for a few of them.

“Rosie, do you want to let Mommy say hi to everyone?” Rose shakes her head no. “Okay, um, let’s try this.” You walk over to the crowd with your bodyguard, Draco, standing by. “Hi guys,” You wave to everyone, and Rose tucks her face into your neck at the loud noise. When they notice how tired she is they have the decency to quiet down. “I have to get her down for a nap so I want to do a couple real quick.” You sign with one hand all the while listening to each person as they talk to you about any and everything. It’s a bit hard to keep up but you’re doing your best.

You get down to one fan with dark hair and blue eyes. They seem pretty familiar and you’re about to question it when she speaks.

“Hi, y/n, hi Rose,” She greets and Rose is elated that there’s someone here speaking to her directly. The young girl talks as if she knows both of you as she asks you about your day.

“I’m fine, thank you,” You smile gently. “Have we met somewhere before?”

“I’m wildelover04” She beams when she realizes you know who she is. “We've dmed back and forth a couple of times. My name is Carissa.”

“Oh, right, Carissa, so lovely to meet you in person,” You hand Rose over to Draco, and this time she doesn’t protest. She simply closes her eyes and falls asleep as you pose for a few pictures with Carissa and the rest of the fans. They’re all mindful of Rose and not getting her in the pictures. “Okay, guys, I have to go but it was so lovely meeting all of you.” You wave despite their boos. They were having so much fun with you and a lot of fun with them.

“Bye! See you soon!” Carissa’s voice stands out to you as she shouts your name.

She seemed normal for the most part but her presence has definitely stuck in your head. You climb into the car and help Rose into her car seat. Grace is already inside of her seat and fast asleep as the car starts. Today was a good day.

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

Later that night, you’re in bed with Rose by your side as you speak with Natasha over facetime. The time difference is six hours and you know it’s late for Natasha. Even still she would never miss a time to speak to her daughter.

“Are you sleeping in bed with Mommy tonight?” Natasha questions. Rose nods excitedly as she flips her plushie over in her hands. “You’re all nice and snug. I wish I was there with you to kiss you three goodnight.”

“Me too,” You say.

“Mama, I met Kelly Starkson,” Rose mispronounces the woman’s name.

“You did?” Natasha chuckles.

“Kelly Clarkson,” You correct her. “She was so polite and used her manners.”

“Ohhh, I’m so proud of you Solnyshko,” Natasha praises. “Now, I’m going to go on to bed. I have an early call time but I just wanted to say goodnight to my girls and be safe.”

“We will and we love you,” You prompt Rose to say goodnight. “Say goodnight to Mama.”

“Night night, Mama, love you all the way to the moon,” Rose exaggerates with her hands.

“And back, i love you three, goodnight.” Natasha says before hanging up the phone.

You set it on your nightstand, opting on cuddling with Rose while she falls asleep. You get up when she’s dead asleep to go and grab a glass of water. You check the security cameras before walking into the kitchen for a glass of water. You drink half before you spot the many gifts that had been delivered to your door by Roxy. She’d brought them earlier from her office where she received all of your personal mail from other celebrities or coworkers you know. You sift through the mail and packages, making a mental list of who to thank before you come across one that has you questioning everything.

A package from Wildelover04. Fan mail is usually funneled and inspected before it ever comes across your eyes so you wonder how this one made it through. It’s a single rose along with a teddy bear. You find it quite cute and so you travel with it back upstairs to your bedroom where you take a few pictures with it to thank her. You make a public tweet and tag her in it. You also send a text to Roxy to question how it made it through.

Overall, you push Carissa to the back of your mind as you think about your family and the rest of your busy week.

She’s just a superfan and you’re just a star. Nothing out of the ordinary.

----> part 2

#natasha romanoff #black reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #natasha romanov #natasha x you #angst

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prettyiwa · 4 months

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🍉 Fics for Gaza — Sponsor a WIP 🍉

Hello, everybody! I'm honestly not sure how this will go, if at all, but I want to participate in the fundraising efforts of @ficsforgaza. Lately, I've been focused solely on projects that bring me joy regardless of readership and so for this, I'll be opening up all of my WIPs, including those not listed on my official WIP page but previously mentioned on this blog. For this fundraiser, I'm committing to returning to those old projects that have been unceremoniously left in the dust.

I'm committing to this undertaking with the hopes that one of my projects will encourage donations if they weren't previously inclined or were on the fence.

Raised: $91.39 Written/Sponsored: 3.443/18,278

How it works:

$1 = 200 words!

Make a donation to a vetted fundraiser of your choice (links below) and send me a screenshot of your donation excluding identifying information + the WIP you'd like me to work on. For every $1 donated, I will write 200 words for your chosen WIP. Upon receiving proof of donation, I will begin working on the WIP.

Example message template:

Hey, Ix! I've donated [this amount] to [link to vetted fundraiser]. Would you be able to work on [WIP title]? Thank you! (Included screenshot of proof of donation)

Vetted fundraiser links:

Vetted fundraiser masterpost-masterpost

List of Palestinian Evacuation & Support Fundraisers

Masterlist of links, official & vetted

how you can help palestine

Eligible WIPs:

Because the list of WIPs included is so long, they'll be listed below the cut. Fandoms included: Daiya no Ace, Haikyuu!!, Attack on Titan, Fullmetal Alchemist, & My Hero Academia.

Daiya no Ace

The Catcher's Accomplice - Miyuki Kazuya Major Leagues, Interpreter, Forced Proximity (Belated Quarantine Fic), Falling in Love, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Fluff

When Kazuya insisted he be posted for the MLB, he wasn't quite aware of all that entailed, only concerned with being able to continue playing. He didn't fully anticipate the sheer loneliness of moving to a different country, especially just before a pandemic. How lucky for him that you're there every step of the way.

word count: 4,591/20,000+

Promises We Made - Miyuki Kazuya Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Soulmates (if you squint), Expression of Grief, Anxiety, & Depression

He existed as a beacon for you—someone who had been there since before you can remember, someone who always found you when you got lost. All you wanted was to be able to stand on your own two feet beside him.

word count: 14,119/50,000+

His Name - Miyuki Kazuya Non-Linear Storytelling, Falling in Love, Break-up Fic, Angst, Hints of Pining & Regret

Kazuya never realized how much he loved the way his name sounded as it rolled of your tongue, a promise he didn't hear until it was too late.

word count: 1,593/6,000

not a stranger - Sawamura Eijun Younger Brother's Best Friend, Childhood Crush, Childhood Friends to Lovers

Fifteen years after he used to announce to the world, "I'm going to marry you one day!," he no longer looks like the Ei-chan you once knew.

word count: 3,548/12,000 FULLY SPONSORED!! written: 261/10,000

Play with Me - Kuramochi Youichi NPB, Bassist, One Night Stand to Lovers, Falling in Love, Shared History, Fluff, Suggestive

The story of you and Kuramochi Youichi goes further than the night he finds himself in the audience of your show, but it takes you a while before you acknowledge that.

word count: 339/7,500

Chink in My Armor - Kominato Ryousuke University!AU, FWB, Jealousy, Stubborn Ryou, Getting Together, Suggestive

For someone who "didn't have the time to focus on a relationship," Ryou spends an awful lot of time focusing on you.

word count: 273/5,500

Wanna Run with You - Yuuki Tetsuya University!AU, Friends to Lovers, Old Crush, Reunion, Falling in Love, Fluff

A favor for your new editor puts you in contact with your old friend and crush, someone you fervently wanted to avoid. Now that Tetsu has you in his life again, he isn't so ready to let you go this time.

word count: 6,513/9,500

Haikyuu!!

Mine to Keep - Iwaizumi Hajime Yakuza, Fight Club, Violence, Light Stalking & Obsession, Possessive Behavior, Smut

Iwaizumi's taken his time with you, preferring you willing and wanting, but there's only so much waiting he can do before he snaps.

*requires editing so the word count may vary.

word count: 11,717/15,000* sponsored word count: 1,000 written: 1,000/1,000

Always You - Iwaizumi Hajime Fallen Angel, Demon, Memory Loss, Reincarnation, Angst, Love Perseveres

You two were favored angels, models for how others should perform until you made the grave sin of loving more than your Creator. For your crime, you were doomed to loving one another time and again through never ending reincarnation, forever watching the other suffer and die.

word count: 2,378/6,000 sponsored word count: 1,278 written: 1,278/1,278

Coming Home - Iwaizumi Hajime Punisher!AU, Grief, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Friends to ??? to Lovers

After your mother died, you never expected to find comfort in the return of the friend you long since thought dead.

word count: 1,524/6,500

Late Nights - Iwaizumi Hajime University!AU, Pining, Getting Together

In the cover of night near the university baseball diamonds, Iwaizumi finds the courage to talk to you.

word count: 328/3,000 **FULLY SPONSORED! written: 904/3,000

Maker of Myths - Oikawa Tooru Trojan War!AU, Paris & Helen, Falling in Love, War, Infidelity, Grief, Angst

The first choice you ever made was which suitor would be your husband, the King. The second choice you made allowed for you to choose your lover, your partner. The third choice you made started a war.

word count: 4,860/13,000+

This Tree, This Bed - Kuroo Tetsurou Odyssey!AU, Odysseus & Penelope, Falling in Love, Separation, Reunion, Hurt/Comfort

Kuroo liked to fashion himself as one of the smartest men in the known world. While his cunning managed to win your hand and your heart, it was unable to save him from going into a war unrelated to him.

word count: 3,215/7,500

Anxious, Wide Awake - Kuroo Tetsurou Magic & Monsters!AU, Vampire, Sorceress, Witcher inspired, Violence, Blood, Established Relationship

The more they touch you, the more their stench sticks to you, the more violent their deaths will be when he comes for you. Because he is coming for you. You have more faith in that fact than you do that the sun will rise tomorrow morning. His promise can still be heard nearly a century later, still humming along the skin where he first whispered it. He’s coming.

word count: 4,353/10,000

Please Look at Me - Hanamaki Takahiro & Matsukawa Issei Love Triangle, Not Polyamorous, Smut, Getting Together, Angst

“Is it okay if I have a taste?” Don’t you kids do anything I wouldn’t do. Takahiro’s seen Mattsun do a lot. He’s seen Mattsun in so many compromising situations throughout the years, he’s given up on keeping count long ago. And this? This is definitely something Mattsun would do.

word count: 867/6,000

Rosebuds & Black Currant - Futakuchi Kenji Strangers to (eventual) Lovers, Falling in Love, Getting Together, Fluff

It takes you entirely too long to understand the messages Kenji's been trying to send through the arrangements he gives you if only because you don't believe he's familiar with the language of flowers.

word count: 188/3,500

Attack on Titan

Rapture for the Sinners - Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman Canon Divergent, Violence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Grief, PTSD, Smut

Fiercely loyal to Erwin Smith, you find yourself to be one of his most trusted soldiers, ready to do what is necessary for either of you to get what you want. With no room for romantic relationships, you two easily find yourselves engaged in a sexual relationship. Why do you suddenly find your situation muddled when you're tasked with bringing three thugs from the Underground to the Survey Corps? What happens when you suddenly find yourself developing feelings for the one you were prepared to kill and who was prepared to kill you in turn?

word count: 103,168/170,000+ sponsored word count: 2,000 written: 0/2,000

For You, in the Future - Bertholdt Hoover, Levi Ackerman VOV Rewrite, Canon Divergent, Tech Advancements, Friends to Lovers, Lovers to Enemies, Political Intrigue, Grief, PTSD, Love Perseveres

An attempt at a rewrite of my first story. I've worked on it in secret over the winter and could be swayed to starting it once more.

word count: 7,601/150,000+

Fullmetal Alchemist

From the Ashes Flowers Bloom - Roy Mustang Canon Divergent, Violence, Religious Guilt, Subterfuge, Exes to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort

You've spent the last four years avoiding staying in one place for too long due to the belief in the superstitions of your mother's religion. After the murder of your adoptive brother, you begin to learn the truth of the larger conspiracy that's left a pile of bodies wherever you go. Deciding to confront the root of the problem head-on, you find yourself reforging old relationships, for better or for worse.

word count: 43,580/80,000+

My Hero Academia

Set You Free - Aizawa Shouta Pre-UA Teacher!AU, Hurt/Comfort, Falling in Love, Grief, Getting Together

An unfortunate quirk, bad timing, and grief-induced anger tied you to Aizawa years after the death of Shirakumo. He wanted to be a hero, and it takes him a bit too long to realize he may have ruined yours.

word count: 2,256/6,500

Hit Me Before I Knew It - Bakugo Katsuki Pro!AU, Fake Dating, Pining, Getting Together, Parental Grief

“I’m sorry—can you repeat that?” “I’m not saying it again.” “No, please. I didn’t quite hear you the first time,” you push, trying to repress the uptick of your lips at Bakugo’s unexpected question. He looks at you and you can tell he knows it’s not quite the truth, but he obliges you. The peculiarity of it all has you struggling to process it just as much as he’s struggling to say it. With a heavy sigh, he tries again, voice lower than before. “I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend. Just a date or two to get my buddy off my back.”

word count: 531/6,500

#fics for gaza #✒.ix writes #📖🍉

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goosewriting · 10 months

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Across the Galaxy and Beyond

summary: some time after the Mantis crew split apart, Cal has an unexpected reunion with reader on Koboh

relationship: Cal Kestis x gn!reader

warnings: spoilers for Jedi Survivor, vague-ish mention of events from the Battle Scars book but i don't think it counts as a spoiler, hurt & comfort, flashbacks, kissing

word count: 8.9k 👀💧 ...i am unwell about this man what can i say

A/N: started writing this when i first started jedi survivor, and finally got around to finishing it now that i finished reading battle scars and the cal kestis brainworms are attacking me again. story doesn't follow the game exactly. also this could be read as a separate story from my wherever you go, i go trilogy, but i like to think it's the same reader and timeline lol so go read that if you haven't c:

Navigation: Part 1 (you’re here!) | Part 2 (wip)

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — — Part 1: Just like old times

After Cal's escape from Coruscant, the Mantis was pretty shredded. The main problem was the gyro, but upon entering Koboh's atmosphere, all systems started failing and the Jedi had to make an emergency landing somewhere on some cliffs.

It took a lot of climbing and wall-jumping and fighting the aggressive local fauna, but after a couple of hours, Cal and BD finally made it to the outpost where Greez' cantina was located. On the way there he also encountered bandits who called themselves the Bedlam Raiders, as well as old Separatists battleships and battle droids, of all things. Just what has Greez got himself into?, Cal thinks to himself after saving a local from Rayvis, the leader of the Raiders, and outing himself as a Jedi in the process.

When Cal and BD finally enter Pyloon's Saloon, they meet with Greez. Since the Raiders have just been at the saloon (and the place doesn't look all too inviting either), there are no customers, so Cal and Greez catch up at the bar. The Latero is extremely happy to see the boy and his droid in one piece after all this time. Over a drink, the redhead tells him about the last job on Coruscant gone wrong, how only two of them made it out. He expresses his frustration, how the Empire is only growing stronger and everything he does feels pointless. Things haven't been easy since the Mantis crew split up.

After catching up a little, Greez tells Cal that he has some spare parts and will take care of the ship. He'll send someone to bring the ship to the landing dock behind the saloon. In the meantime, he should take a breather and explore the outpost. Cal doesn't like feeling like he's wasting time, but with the state the Mantis is in, there really isn't much else he can do.

The Latero shows him the room in the basement, telling Cal he can stay as long as he needs. Greez wasn't kidding when he said he had a room just for Cal: there was a meditation area in the middle of the round room, and even his old clothes and some unfinished tech projects were all stashed away in a big chest.

They both sit down on the edge of the bed, and it doesn't take long for the conversation to take a direction Cal doesn't like. Not because what Greez is saying is wrong; on the contrary, he's probably right, but the redhead doesn't want to hear it. Not right now. Greez, in a genuinely concerned tone, goes on about how the game is rigged and Cal should walk away while he can, maybe even settle down somewhere. Cal lashes out for a moment, claiming someone has to keep fighting.

— — —

You approach the stable in the outpost riding on your nekko, humming a happy tune to yourself. You're lost in thought, letting your trusty mount walk the last stretch to the stalls by himself, as he knew the way. Once you reach the structure, you get off and start putting away your haul; you just came from a successful hunt. You'd skin and prepare everything later though, so you pack the preys away in special boxes where everything would be preserved for a couple of days.

“Hello master,” a robotic yet chirpy voice greets you.

You turn around with a smile, facing the Separatist battle droid you had found and reprogrammed to help you out at the stable.

“Hey there, Connor,” you greet back. You've told him several times not to call you that, but he insisted, saying you saved him and now his purpose was to serve you. You take a moment to inspect his blue and black markings that have started chipping more noticeably; maybe it's time for a new paint job.

“Did I miss anything while I was gone?” you ask, taking the saddle off your nekko and placing it onto the designated wooden beam.

“Yes, in fact,” Connor replies, placing new food and clean water in the trough. “There's a ship on the landing pad behind the saloon that I've never seen before.”

“Is that so? What kinda ship?”

“A modified S-161 Stinger, and it's pretty busted up. I'm surprised it even made it this far.”

You stop in your tracks, your grip tightening around the halter you just took off the nekko, which is now happily munching away on its fresh feed.

“Interesting,” you remark, putting the rest of the equipment away and turning around to face the droid. Since you spent most of the day down in some caves, you didn't see or hear anything. “Do you know who was on board?”

“I didn't see who came off the ship, but I overheard some prospectors talk about a newcomer that went one on one with Rayvis,” Connor comments, then leans in closer to you, looking around as if to make sure no one would be listening in on your conversations, when it's clearly just the two of you at the stable. “I also heard Turgle mentioning a Jedi being seen around here.”

“Huh,” is all you manage to say, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. There was no way he was here, right? After all this time? As far as you know, he doesn't even know you're here. So if it is him, he isn't here to see you, but Greez instead. It's probably because of the Mantis; Cal is in need of repairs. This thought immediately replaces the initial anticipation with a strange, cold feeling.

“Can you believe it?” Connor goes on. “I've never even seen a Jedi. I would love to meet them.”

You take a long look at the droid, remembering the state you had found him in. He had never been in the war, actually. He spent several years in an abandoned Separatist camp, never even getting to be activated. So he only knew his programming: serve the Separatists, fight the clones and kill the Jedi. Yet he had never lived any of it. Reprogramming him had been easy in that regard, as his memory banks were mostly blank. Back then you were looking for a droid companion to help you out at the stables, and even though you know what battle droids mean to the Jedi, you can't help but think that they are kinda cute. The B1 models, at least. The B2 series and commandos are pretty scary.

So you gave your new friend a name (you couldn't decide between Hank and Connor, but decided to go with the latter as it somehow suited his demeanour better) and a new purpose in life, and he seems content with that. The only fighting program you left in him is for defending the stable and nekkos. First and foremost it is his mission that they are not harmed. You also ordered him not to leave the outpost, for his own safety. You don't want the raiders to find him and get access to his memory bank. They would use the information against all of you at the outpost, and either scrap him or reprogram him to join the raiders. Once they were dealt with, however, you promised Connor you would take him around Koboh first, then show him the galaxy.

“I'm going to the saloon,” you announce. “Can you take care of the rest?”

“Roger roger!” Connor replies with a salute, getting to work.

You find yourself smoothing out your clothes and hair as you make the short trip to the saloon. When you reach the bar you're met with Monk, the witty bartender droid. He greets you with a happy tone and some strange phrase that you don't entirely understand, as he always does. You ask for Greez, and he points towards the door to the side, saying he's in the basement with some old friend of his that just dropped by.

With a gulp and a forced smile, you thank him and head down the stairs. The urge to turn on your heel and run away grows with every step. As you're about to reach the door, you hear voices coming from the other side.

“-to be something more than a lightsaber.” That's Greez, you think. He sounds… sad? “Think of yourself. Settle down, find a home.”

“What home, Greez?” You swear your heart actually stops beating and accelerates at the same time when you hear the voice, his voice. “There is no home. Home was the Order. It was my teacher.”

You've stopped a couple steps away from the door so it wouldn't open and have you interrupt the conversation, but you involuntarily lean forward to hear better what Cal says next.

“It was everyone I lost… Home was the Mantis with you, Cere, Merrin, and–”

The automatic door whooshes open and Cal and Greez turn their heads towards you as they stand up from the bed they were sitting on.

“I- I didn't mean to eavesdrop,” you sheepishly state after a moment of uncomfortable silence from everyone, approaching him but staying at a distance. “Hey, Cal. It's been a while.”

“Yeah, it has,” he retorts, and you can't really read the tone of his voice.

You look each other up and down, taking in how different you both look since… Since the last time you saw each other. Since you split up.

A thousand thoughts go through your head, and a thousand different feelings resurface, making your heart tighten in your chest, like there isn't enough space for everything it's trying to process.

Greez can't take the tension anymore, so he clears his throat loudly.

“Lemme show you something, Cal,” the Latero says as he walks towards a panel on the far side of the room. He presses a couple of buttons and a section of the wall slides open with a creak, revealing a path behind it. “This is an old smuggler's tunnel, you'll find spare parts in there. Just… be careful, I have a pest problem.”

With that, Greez walks by both of you, giving your arm an encouraging pat, before leaving the room. It's just you and Cal now.

“Spare parts?” you ask, trying to make some conversation. “For the Mantis, I take it?”

“Yeah,” Cal replies, looking at the tunnel entrance but not moving from where he stands. “Gyro's fried.”

You two stand there in silence, and you want to smack yourself in the face. You feel like an awkward 12-year-old all over again, not knowing how to talk to your cr– You stop your train of thought before you dare finish that sentence and potentially embarrass yourself further. The heat on your cheeks that refuses to leave your face since you've laid eyes on the Jedi can't possibly have gone unnoticed by him.

“You know, Greez has had this room set up for you for quite a while,” you tell Cal, shooting him a quick smile. “So I take it you'll be staying for a while, right? The Mantis isn't going anywhere.”

Cal shrugs and shoots you a quick, unsure glance, then casts his eyes back down, scratching the back of his neck.

“I was just about to head out,” you lie. Your plan for the evening was to have a drink at the bar and unwind, but him being here changes everything. “You could join me and I'll show you around if you'd like…”

Cal looks at the tunnel again, weighing the options in his mind. One is going down there to fix the Mantis as soon as possible, then taking off to who knows where. The other… you're not so sure. And if you're being honest with yourself, you're too scared to ask.

“Sure, why not,” he finally agrees with a sigh and starts walking towards the door that directly leads outside from the basement, but you feel like something, or rather someone, is missing. You look around the room, scanning your surroundings for a certain droid, then turn back to Cal.

“W-Where's BD?” you ask, fearing the worst. You'd really hate it if something happened to him.

“Oh, he wandered off somewhere earlier,” Cal says and you release a breath of relief. After calling for him, the little droid comes hopping down the stairs and into the room.

“BD!” you greet the little companion, and he excitedly beeps at your reunion. He comes running towards you and you pick him up in a hug.

“Oh, how I've missed you,” you spin him around a couple of times, then set him back down onto the floor. “I have a droid of my own now, but you're still the cutest. Don't tell him, though,” you add with a wink.

“You have a droid?” Cal asks as BD climbs onto his back and you all make your way out.

“Yeah, he helps me out at the stable,” you explain, pointing at the building as you reach the end of the stairs. The stable is practically behind the saloon. From these stairs it's a very short trek to reach the paddocks.

“Those are nekkos, right?” Cal questions, approaching the fence and looking at the two animals chilling in the sun. “I met Mosey earlier. She said she worked at the stable,” he turns around to look at you. “But she didn't mention you.”

You're about to retort by saying she couldn't have possibly known that you two knew each other, but you're interrupted by a chirpy voice.

“Master! You're back already?”

At the sound of the familiar robotic voice, Cal instinctively draws his lightsaber, and turns towards the side entrance to the stable. You hurry to get between your droid and the Jedi; you don't want to see Connor get sliced today. Not by him. Said droid peeks out from behind the archway, and BD beeps repeatedly, alarmed.

“Wait!” you exclaim, holding your hands up into the air defensively. “That's my droid!”

“Your- Your droid?” Cal repeats, clearly confused. He puts away his weapon nonetheless.

“He's reprogrammed, and he's never even been in the war,” you explain, walking backwards as Cal starts approaching the stable to inspect the battle droid further, with you still between them. “He was never even activated. He's good, I promise!”

“Master, who's this?” Connor asks, walking back into the stable to make room for Cal and you. “Is he bothering you?” The droid activates the blaster you had built into one of his arms, and Cal's hand goes to the hilt of his sabre again, while BD beeps in exasperation.

“No, stand down!” you order, and the blaster immediately turns off with a whirr. “Will everyone please calm down?”

Still standing between Cal and the battle droid, you let out a huff, looking from one to the other.

“Cal, BD; this is Connor, my droid,” you start introducing them. “My good and reprogrammed droid, whose mission is to protect the stable and the nekkos, nothing more.”

Cal seems unimpressed, still looking at Connor with narrowed eyes. You turn to the droid.

“Connor; these are Cal and BD,” you start. “And you know what? Cal here–” You look at Connor with raised brows and lower your voice. “–is a Jedi.”

Connor brings his hands up to where his mouth would be, gasping in surprise.

“You- You are?” he asks, quickly going around you to take Cal's hand and shaking it vigorously. “It's such an honour! I've always wanted to meet a Jedi!”

“So you could get up all close and stab me in the back?” Cal retorts, his voice laced with uncharacteristic venom, and pulls his hand from the droid's grasp.

“What? No, I–” Connor starts but you push him to the side a bit.

“It's okay, Connor. He'll warm up to you, eventually,” you comfort him. “Please go get the nekkos ready for us?”

You've never heard a sadder 'roger roger' in your life and it sends a sting of pain through your chest.

While the droid goes to prepare your mounts, you turn around to Cal and frown at him. He crosses his arms in front of his chest defensively.

“Why would you say something like that? He's genuinely excited to meet you,” you explain. “When was the last time someone was actually happy to see a Jedi, hm?”

“Not a battle droid, that's for sure,” Cal retorts with a huff.

You look up at him for a moment, holding his rather cold gaze. You wonder just what happened these past few years that had him like this. Sure, you understand why he isn't a fan of battle droids. Normally you aren't either. But there's just something about Cal that's… different. He looks older, but it might just be the beard. He also looks more tired, carries himself differently. With confidence like he always did, but also in a “don't mess with me” way that wasn't there before. Gone is the spark in his eyes, that glimmer of optimism and hope, replaced by the promise of not holding back if anyone were to cross him.

For several moments, you just look at each other, and you're sure he's analysing you just as you are him, and you wonder what is going through his head.

“The nekkos are ready,” Connor announces, leading both of them out of their respective stalls by the reins.

You allow the animals to sniff Cal and inspect him, while you give a short explanation on how to ride and guide them. Cal's mount is white with a dark face and legs, while yours is a dark purple and brown. After thanking Connor and waving him goodbye, you both hop onto the saddle and head out of the outpost. You know your way around, taking a route that would keep you hidden from the patrols, both the imperial ones as well as the raiders. You'd much rather deal with the local fauna. And you do come across a couple of rawkas at the river, and a pack of gorgers when heading further up the Southern Reach. But you two make quick work of them.

In fact, Cal has grown stronger, and not only that, but he also has a new array of weapons it seems; now he double-wields his lightsabers, and he also has a blaster, which completely takes you by surprise.

Once you reach the base of the big silo, you get off your nekkos and climb the rest by foot, getting on top of the structure and sitting at the edge. It's not a super well-hidden spot; if the patrols under you decide to look up they would definitely see you, but it's a good vantage point to show Cal the different places. You point towards the landmarks, explaining them to him so he can orient himself and navigate beyond the outpost. You tell him about the caverns, the mines, to look out for different patrols and what areas to avoid; be it because of the raiders, like fort Kha'lin, or because of bigger fauna like bilemaws, goroccos and mogus. Especially mogus. They are fierce.

Once you're done with your explanation, you lean back onto your hands with a sigh. Cal attentively listened to everything, but he doesn't seem interested in keeping the conversation going, as he hasn't said anything.

He's looking out, scanning this corner of Koboh as far as he could see from here, taking in the view and probably trying to commit to memory everything you've said. You look at him from the corner of your eyes, your gaze falling onto the holster on his hip.

“So,” you try starting the conversation again. “You now double-wield and you have a blaster. Which, by the way, is pretty uncharacteristic for a Jedi, no?”

“A lot has changed, I guess,” is all you get out of him.

“Do you have any other new tricks?” you ask, and the memory of him re-discovering his Master's lessons after his escape from Bracca comes back to you, making you smile fondly to yourself for a moment.

“Hmm,” Cal thinks aloud, also leaning back and finally tearing his eyes from the landscape to look at you. “There aren't any new Force-tricks, if that's what you mean. But I do have this.”

He brings one of his arms up, showing you the contraption on his brace.

“Grappling hook. Comes in pretty handy,” he explains, showing you some of the mechanisms. Your hands reach up to gently hold his wrist, so you can inspect the device better, and you could have sworn you heard his breath hitch at the contact. At that moment, you realise that's the first physical interaction you've had since he arrived, and you quickly let go.

“We should head back,” you say as you stand up, dusting off your legs. “It will get dark soon, plus you must be hungry. I know I am.”

“Yeah, I could eat,” Cal replies, getting up to his feet as well, and BD beeps in agreement.

Cal climbs down the silo first, while you scan the area one last time for any patrols. When it's your turn, just as you're almost at the base of the rather unstable ladder, your foot slips and you lose your balance. You hold onto the next best thing, which happens to be Cal. Seeing you're about to fall, his arm reaches around you and he pulls you towards him while with the other hand he tightly holds onto the railing that goes along the walls of the structure.

“You okay?” he asks, and when you look up at him this time, you're finally met with a pair of eyes that you recognise. There's concern in his gaze but also a certain warmth, amused at how you were a fierce warrior yet managed to be clumsy in small things like these. He found it cute, which you knew for a fact because he would tell you often, back then…

“Y-Yeah, thanks,” you mutter, separating yourself from him now that you're back safe on the ground. Feeling the heat spreading on your face, you can't help a sheepish smile. “Guess some things never change, heh.”

“Guess not,” Cal says with a small smile of his own, and your chest tightens at the sight.

The ride back to the Outpost is silent, and you wonder if his body is also reacting as strongly as yours; ever since slipping, your skin feels like it's tingling, and your heart hasn't calmed down in the slightest.

Once you're back at the stable and the nekkos have been taken care of, Connor mentions that Greez left some food for you, and hands you several small containers wrapped with a cloth.

“You wanna eat at my place?” you find yourself asking Cal, who's scratching behind the nekko's ear. He turns around to you with raised eyebrows in what you assume to be a surprised expression, but he's quick to relax his face back to normal.

“I have a room behind Doma's shop,” you explain, holding up the food in your hands and you gesture to it with your chin. “And Greez knows this is far too much food for myself.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Cal replies, calling BD back to him, who was scanning some stable equipment. “Let me help you with that.”

Cal takes the food off your hands, and you say your goodbyes to Connor, who stays at the stable. It's a quick trip past the saloon's entrance into Doma's shop. She's behind the counter organising some of her merchandise, and returns your “hello” from afar without looking. Only when she hears Cal's greeting does she turn around. She shoots you a look and you know exactly what she means, heat prickling again at your cheeks. You give a curt shake of your head, quickening the pace to evade Doma's questioning, heading for the door at the back that leads to the place you have been calling home for the last year.

It isn't much, but it makes do: one big room, that's both kitchen and a living space, with two doors at the far side that lead to a small bedroom and the refresher. The main room is decorated, you like to think it's warm, cosy and inviting. You even managed to thrift an old couch somewhere, refurbished it yourself, and it now essentially serves as the centrepiece of the room. There are several rugs on the floor, as well as piles of pelts and leather in the corner that you still have to finish working on so you could sell them. These days that's your main source of income.

Cal stands at the door for a moment, taking everything in, and you suddenly feel very self-conscious. The space is clean, but the fact that you can't read his face makes you a little nervous. To distract yourself, you take the food from him, bringing it to the kitchen counter.

“I think the food is still warm,” you say as you start opening the containers, the delicious smell filling both your noses. “Do you mind setting the table?”

Cal and you make quick work of getting everything plated and grabbing some drinks, then sitting down in front of each other at the wooden table to eat. You make some light conversation between bites, catching each other up on what has been going on in your lives recently. He tells you about some of the missions he's been on ever since the Mantis crew split up, and you tell him of your own solo adventures before you came to Koboh.

When the plates are empty, your bellies full, and the conversation is about to die down, you ask if you can check out Cal's lightsabre. He unclips it from his belt to hand it to you, and you catch yourself being relieved at the fact he still trusts you enough to just give his sacred weapon to you without further inquiry.

He's changed some parts and the materials, and you hold the device in your hands with the utmost care, admiring the beautiful design and intricate markings on the wooden accents. Rather suddenly, a feeling of regret and shame spreads out in your chest, thinking about how not only this sabre but also Cal himself went through so many changes, and you hadn't been there for any of it. There's so much you want to tell him, about how sad you are that you weren't there for him, about how sorry you are with the way you left, about how you've been thinking of and missing him every single day. But telling him that wouldn't be fair. You have no right to be selfish like that.

“So what exactly happened that got the Mantis in such a state?” you decide to ask instead, reaching the lightsabre over the table to give it back. Cal takes it with a deep sigh, putting it back to his belt, feeling immediately comforted by its familiar weight.

“A job on Coruscant that went… wrong,” he starts, telling you how his team was gathering intel for Saw Guerrera, and it had all worked out until the very last moment, where everything went wrong, and he lost his whole crew in an instant. Only him and another person made it out of there. In fact, one of his crew members saved his life by pushing him out of the way and taking the blaster shot herself instead.

You listen intently, and your heart grows heavier by the second; you can hear the frustration in his voice, the voice of a man who's this close to giving up entirely, because he's just so tired, but he can't. He won't. You know Cal took it upon himself to fight the Empire by himself if he has to. A trait you genuinely admire but also despise. After all, that was one of the reasons you left.

Then he mentions the Ninth Sister, and your attention is fully back to what he's saying.

“I tried to get through to her, I really did,” Cal says, his voice cracking for a second. “But she wouldn't let up. I had no choice.”

“Did you…?” you ask carefully.

“I killed her,” he says matter-of-factly, but you can tell it's been eating away at him.

“I'm so sorry, Cal,” you offer, reaching across the table and placing your hand on his. “That couldn't have been easy. I'm sorry you had to go through that.”

He doesn't meet your eyes, his gaze fixed on his half empty cup instead, watching the drops of condensation slowly fall along the outside of the glass onto the table, staining the wood. But he doesn't pull away either, so you give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“You look exhausted,” you finally tell him, and he lets out a breath through his nose, as if saying 'you have no idea'. You offer for him to take a shower here instead of at the saloon before heading back, telling him yours is nicer, to which he chuckles lightly, and he accepts.

He insists you take a shower first while he takes care of the dishes, so you do just that. Once you're out, it's his turn. You hand him a towel and a change of clean clothes, and you can tell he wonders why you have them in his size, until he realises that they're actually his. It's an old shirt and lounge pants that you would always steal from him and had apparently taken with you. He doesn't comment on it though, instead he simply stares at the clothes in his hand for maybe a second too long, deep in thought. Then he blinks a couple of times, as if he just came back from zoning out, gives you a short 'thanks' and gets into the shower.

While he cleans up, you take a seat on the couch, pulling up the novel you're currently reading on your holopad. Only now that you're sitting with your legs stretched out along the length of the cushions do you realise how tired you are, both physically and emotionally. Out of everything you could have thought would happen today, meeting Cal was certainly not on the list. Still, you can't deny that you're happy to see him. For starters, he's still alive. And you've missed him, much more than you care to admit to yourself.

After reading the same sentence of your book over and over, failing to focus, you sigh and look at BD instead, who hops onto the coffee table and tilts his head at you with an inquiring beep.

“Has he been taking care of himself?” you ask the droid, pointing over your shoulder in the direction of the refresher, where you can hear the water running.

BD lets out a sequence of beeps and boops, and you narrow your eyes at him for a moment. 'He keeps himself busy' he said. Is he dodging your question?

“Is that so,” you reply with a hum, and BD shoots the question right back at you. You're a bit surprised at his concern, and for a moment you consider opening up to the little droid, but you hear the water turn off, so you bring your attention back to your book again instead, trying your darndest to focus on what's happening in the story. The washroom door opens with a whoosh.

“Where should I put the towel?” Cal asks, still standing at the door frame.

“Just put it in the hamper underneath the sink,” you reply over your shoulder, and in the corner of your eye you can see BD still looking at you, waiting for an answer. Then he tilts his head with an amused boop; he's got you all figured out.

“Oh shush you,” you start scolding the little droid, but Cal appears, walking around the couch to sit down. Except that your legs are stretched across it, so you start lifting them off the cushions and intend to bend them at the knee to sit properly, but Cal gently grabs your ankles, lifting them off the couch to sit down, and places them over his lap instead. His hand comes to rest on your shin, and you can feel the warmth he irradiates seep through the fabric of your pants.

“You looked comfy,” he points out, his hand gently rubbing up and down below your knee, while with his other hand he props up his head against the back of the couch.

You swallow hard, unable to answer, and bring the datapad up to your face to hide behind it. Why is he being so nice suddenly? Is it because you aren't outside where others could see? Or is it because he realised he still has you wrapped around his finger so he's just teasing you? You're beyond confused at the sudden sign of affection after he's been so distant the whole day, like he hadn't planned on ever seeing you again. And to be quite honest, you deserve the cold treatment. After what you did, the way you left.

Feeling the sting behind your eyes, knowing what's coming, you shrink further into yourself, holding the holopad even closer to your face to hide it from Cal's view. He can't see your expression from where he's sitting, so he gives a light chuckle, thinking you're just flustered. The sound feels like a dagger in your gut, and you unsuccessfully choke back sob.

Now Cal's face changes completely to one of concern, and he pushes the pad out of the way only to be met with your crying face.

“Whoa, wait-“ Cal says, and he retrieves his hands, holding them both up in surrender. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- I thought we-“

“I'm so sorry, Cal,” you croak, crying freely now, as you let go of the device and it falls onto the floor with a 'clunk'. “I'm so sorry for everything, for what I did. For leaving you alone.” Your hands wipe away at your cheeks in a vain attempt to dry off the tears, but they just keep coming.

After the crew split up, the Mantis felt unbearably empty. After the failed mission on Hosnian Prime, after saying goodbye to Fret and Irei, who had definitely changed the dynamics of the crew (you still weren't sure if it had been for better or worse), everything felt like it started falling apart.

The first to leave was Merrin, saying she needed to recentre her fire and find herself again, to be able to draw all the power she now knew she was able to use.

Then, it was Cere and Greez. The Latero trusted Cal and left his beloved ship in his hands, telling him to look after it until he'd be back. Except everyone knew that he didn't really intend to. The loss of his arm had hit him harder than he wanted to admit, and for Greez it had been the wake-up call needed to “leave the game while you can because it's been rigged since the start”, as he would often say. Cere on the other hand took off with new-found determination. Her and Cal's goals weren't all that different: the endgame was to defeat the Empire, one way or another. However, Cal believed in taking action now, while Cere had her sights set on the future, being able to help those who would come next, long after she and everyone else were gone. She wanted to build a legacy, as the 'Jedi's knowledge was far too valuable to be lost to time and circumstance.

After everyone was gone, it was just Cal, BD and you.

The Jedi had become irritable, like he had already convinced himself that you would leave him soon too, as did everyone, apparently. You reassured him to the best of your abilities that you believed in what he stood for and wanted to stay by his side. However, now that you didn't have a whole crew to count on, you had to be more careful than ever.

“We have to be smart about this!” you'd plead, seeing Cal running head-first into danger time and time again.

When the nightmares became too much, you'd hold him tightly, kissing his tears away as he'd cry out for his master, Tapal.

“You were just a kid!” you had yelled at Cal one time, when what was supposed to be a quick run-down of the plan had become a big argument. “You act as if the whole universe is counting on you and only you to defeat the beast that is the Empire. Do you think that that's your destiny? As dictated by the Force? We've had our share of big, successful missions as a group. Now it's time to back down, Cal. We're just two people, what do you expect we'll achieve here? It's time to move on.”

Needless to say, those words had not calmed Cal down in the slightest. Now he felt just as betrayed by you as he did by the rest. More words were thrown at each other like daggers finally let free after being pushed back for far too long in an attempt to keep some level of normalcy between you two. But there was no going back. So you did what you told him as well: you moved on. That same evening, you packed your things and left.

Your heart bled and tears kept streaking down your face with every heavy step you took away from the Mantis, but at the time, you didn't know what else to do. You'd never wanted to leave Cal, and you hated yourself for doing this to him and to yourself, but what you had going on was no way to live anymore. Maybe, hopefully, now that you were gone, he would understand that.

You know it had been a horrible thing to do, especially like that. After years of telling him how you'd follow him to the end of the world. After telling him every day how much you loved him. After promising you'd be there for him. The worst part was that being away from him was far more painful than it was with him. He left a void in your heart that only he could fill. You meant to go looking for him many times, but were too scared. You didn't deserve to have him back. Not after what you did.

But now he's here.

Between cries, you apologise over and over again, saying how what you did wasn't fair, that you wished you had never left and worked it out instead, that you missed him so much it was hard to breathe.

Cal doesn't answer immediately, and you force your somewhat blurry gaze up to meet his eyes, and you see he's starting to tear up himself. He leans forward, lifting you up and settling you sideways onto his lap, enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug. You hold him just as tightly, crying into his shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” The more you say it, the emptier it feels, but it's all you can manage for now, and you mean it. “I really am.”

“I know,” Cal says, squeezing you a little tighter. “I felt it. When you gave me the clothes earlier.”

You remember the countless nights you've cried yourself to sleep in the very clothes he's now wearing, the times when you missed him so much you felt like your heart would rip its way right out of your chest, muttering your regrets into your pillow, as if it could carry your apology and bring it to Cal somehow. You groan in embarrassment; you always forget that your stuff also carries imprints he can feel.

“I'm so lame,” you mumble and pull back to look at Cal, giving him a weak smile that quickly turns into a grimace again as a new wave of tears come rolling down your cheeks.

“No, you're not,” Cal reassures you, one hand cupping your face and wiping over your cheekbone with his thumb. You lean into his touch with a sniffle.

“I've missed you too,” he finally says, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “And I'm sorry—” He kisses your cheek. “—for making you feel like you were less important than the missions.” A kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You're the best thing that ever happened to me and I took you for granted.” His lips brush over yours. “Can we try again?”

You close the minimal gap and kiss him hard, like Cal was the air your lungs needed after being underwater for too long. He reciprocates just as intensely, pushing you down onto the couch and climbing on top of you. When he finally breaks the kiss, you're both panting. You run your fingers through his hair as he trails kisses along your jaw, and you giggle at how ticklish his beard feels against your skin; that's a new sensation you'd have to – no scratch that, want to – get used to. Your giggles turn into a low moan as he bites the spot over your collarbone, and when you turn your head to give him better access, you're met with BD still on the coffee table, now sitting comfortably, looking up at you two as if it was the most interesting spectacle in the world.

A strangled sound of surprise and embarrassment comes from your throat and you push Cal away a bit by his shoulders, to which he raises his head and grumbles in annoyance for interrupting him.

“We have an audience,” you whine, hiding your face behind your hands, and Cal lets out an amused laugh. BD beeps matter-of-factly.

“What do you mean 'don't mind me'?!” You turn to the droid and you swear that if he had a face, he'd be wearing the cockiest of grins right now.

“Some things really never change, huh,” Cal comments with an amused smile, thinking back to all the times you'd become flustered when you kissed in front of BD, saying it was inappropriate or something. If only you knew that Cal often did it on purpose because he loved seeing your cute, flustered face.

“Unlike this right here,” you point out and bring your hands to his face, stroking over his beard, enjoying the prickly sensation. “This is new.”

“Do you like it?” Cal asks genuinely.

“You know I like your scars,” you say, tracing over the one on his lower lip. “As long as they're not covered up, I think I can get used to it. It does look good on you.”

Cal smiles down at you tenderly and for a few moments, you simply enjoy each other's presence, taking each other in. Making sure that this is real and it's happening, that you're back again. Until you let out a hearty yawn.

“Let's get to bed before we fall asleep on the couch,” you say, rubbing your face, but stop to look up at Cal, who seems very content with his current position and hasn't moved yet. “You are staying here tonight, right? I mean, if you want to, you don't have to. Greez has the whole room thing for you, so I understand if—“

Cal interrupts your rambling with a quick peck.

“Yeah, I want to stay,” he assures you and finally stands up, helping you get off the couch.

“Let's go, BD,” you tell the droid to join you as you take Cal's hand and guide them to the bedroom.

You climb into bed, BD at your feet as he would always do on the Mantis, and Cal lifts the covers to get in as well but stops for a moment when he sees the holopicture on your night stand. In the small frame he recognises Greez, Cere, Merrin, Cal, BD and you in the cockpit, all grinning at the camera. Smiling to himself, he finally gets into bed, hugging you to him.

“I have the same picture of us on the Mantis,” he says after letting out a content sigh at finding a comfortable position. “Guess we still were connected somehow all this time.”

You hum in response, a bit surprised at the romantic implication, as if you were lovers who found comfort in looking at the same moon even though you were separated. But you like the idea nonetheless, and you agree.

The warmth both on your skin and spreading in your heart makes quick work of carrying you off to dreamland though, so before you can even give a proper reply, you're fast asleep in Cal's arms.

— — —

The next morning, you wake up to BD's beeping. You groan, turning over to cuddle a little longer, except that the other side of your bed is empty. You blink away the sleepiness in your eyes, and pout at the lack of Jedi in your sheets. Your nose is quick to pick up the scent of freshly brewed caf however, and the grogginess is quickly forgotten as you get out of bed and make your way to the kitchen, where Cal is preparing breakfast.

After a quick meal and lots of stolen kisses, Cal announces it's time to go check out Greez's smuggler tunnel to find that gyro.

“Be careful,” is the last thing you tell him before he leaves.

“Always,” he shoots back at you with a wink and takes off. You playfully roll your eyes at that, thinking back to the countless times on the Mantis you've had to patch him up after a mission inevitably went astray from the original plan.

While Cal is looking for parts for the Mantis, you go back to your own things, checking in on Connor and the nekkos at the stable, as well as preparing some pelts and sewing up your most recent leather project.

Time goes by fast as you skilfully work the needle and thread through the thick material, finishing the piece after a couple of hours. Setting it aside, you stretch your arms and back with a satisfied grunt. You check to see if your comms are working; they are, but there's no new messages. Strange, you think, Cal sure is taking his time to find that gyro. Is he not back yet?

Suddenly feeling uneasy by your own thoughts of how he might have got lost in the tunnels, or how he may have encountered trouble down there, you decide to go check with Greez yourself.

You quickly make your way to the Saloon, going down the stairs that lead to the bar with such speed that when you reach the end and see someone standing there, you bump into them before you can stop yourself.

“Whoa,” a deep voice exclaims at the impact, and you push yourself away from the man's back you just ran into. He turns around slightly towards you. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, didn't see you there” you reply, regaining your composure and walking around him to get a better look.

He's not super tall, but he has a strong and broad build. Although you already felt that when you bumped into him and it was like walking into a wall. You give him a quick up-and-down, trying to gauge if he's friend or foe, but you can't quite read him. He narrows his eyes at you ever so slightly, probably doing the same.

“A new face, how rare,” you start, walking over to the bar and leaning on it with one arm. Your other hand finds its way to your hip, where you realise there is no holster or weapon; you mentally reprimand yourself for leaving your staff at the stable.

“Care for a drink?” asks Monk from behind you.

“No, I'm looking for someone,” the man says.

“Of course you are,” Monk replies with sarcasm. You give the bartender droid a nod; you'll take care of this. As he wheels back into the kitchen, you hear him mutter something about how his bar isn't a lost and found counter. Before the stranger can go on however, the doors at the back of the saloon whoosh open.

“Who's this?” asks Greez as he enters the main room.

“I was just about to ask him,” you reply, your eyes still trained on the man.

“I'm looking for Cal Kestis,” the man in question says instead, and your hand on the bar involuntarily curls into a fist.

“Who? Kal Restis?” Greez asks as he approaches him. “We don't know any Kales. Listen, if you're not gonna order something, get out of my saloon.”

“No, not Kale”, the man says, getting slightly exasperated as he repeats the name slower, and Greez keeps getting it wrong on purpose.

Just as you're about to intervene and send the man away, the entrance doors open and in comes Cal, a soft smile of self-satisfaction on his face.

“Cal!” The man greets the Jedi. You hear Greez mutter “Oh, this Cal Kestis” under his breath as they clearly recognise each other.

“I found the gyro,” Cal announces first, throwing a small mechanical part to Greez, who's taken by surprise but still catches it. Then he turns to the intruder with a smile. “You made it!”

“Good to see you, Cal,” he replies, and the two share a friendly handshake.

“Greez Dritus, this is Bode Akuna,” Call starts introductions, telling this Bode your name as well. You merely give him a short nod in acknowledgment as Cal continues. “He was on Coruscant. Wouldn't have made it out alive without his help.”

Oh, that changes things.

You leave your spot at the bar and drop your rather cold gaze to join the group. Coming to stand next to Cal, you take his hand, and try your best to give Bode a thankful smile. He returns it, quickly catching on.

“Wait a minute. Another one?” Greez quips, looking behind Cal. You were so focused on Bode, that you hadn't even noticed the strange looking droid that came in with the redhead. “Cal, you have a very bad habit of picking up strays.”

“I am ZN-A4,” the droid introduces herself with an exaggerated bow. The design and material she’s made of is something you’ve never seen before. “Humble servant of the Jedi Order.”

What.

“Oh, I take it you haven't broken the news yet,” Bode says to Cal, who sheepishly shrugs his shoulders.

Cal then brings everyone up to speed, telling you how when he was in the tunnels with BD, they stumbled upon this old chamber where the droid was stuck, so they freed her. Turns out she's a droid that belonged to a Jedi from the High Republic, of all things. Her master, Sandari, had sent her to activate the so-called forest array (that strange building the other side of the river that doesn't quite fit in with the rest of the scenery; you've always wondered what it was but never found a way to get in). However, Zee, as everyone started calling the droid, is in really bad shape, and she'll never make it that far. She looks dejected as she says that if she fails her mission, then the key to Tanalorr may be lost forever.

At the mention of the name, Greez chimes in, telling the group that there's an old prospector legend about Tanalorr being a world filled with treasure. But treasure or not, the important part is that it seems to be a real place, one potentially beyond where the Empire can reach: a safe haven.

Zee is delighted and very thankful that everyone seems on board with her mission, and the group is quick to formulate a plan: while Monk gets her up to speed regarding the state of, well, everything, and she gets some much-needed repairs, Bode and Greez will take care of the Mantis. Meanwhile, Cal, BD and you will go to the forest array to check it out.

As you're making your way to the stables, you nudge into Cal's side with your elbow.

“You didn't get hurt down there or anything, right? You sure took your time,” you ask him. It did not go unnoticed by you how in Cal's retelling of events, he skilfully left out how he happened to find that mysterious chamber in the first place.

“The tunnels were pretty old and unstable, but we're okay,” Cal deflects, shooting the droid a quick look. “Right BD?”

BD beeps in response, and you shoot Cal a glare accompanied by a muted gasp, stopping in your tracks.

“You fell through a hole the equivalent of several stories?!” You can't believe this guy.

“It's fine!” Cal tries to reassure you, bringing his hands up to your shoulders. “I promise, it's nothing a stim didn't already fix. So there’s no need to worry, okay? We have a job to do.”

You sigh in defeat as he places a soft kiss on your forehead. You first cup his face softly, then pinch both his cheeks.

“Just what am I going to do with you, Cal Kestis?” you ask rhetorically, taking his hand into yours and resuming the short trek to where Connor is already waiting and waving at you both.

Once you're all geared up and hop into the saddle, you tighten the strap of your staff, adjusting its position on your back.

“Just like old times, huh?” you ask at no one in particular, scanning your surroundings and taking in the scenery; it just never gets old. Cal's nekko trots up next to you.

“Just like old times,” he repeats, with that boyish smile you can't get enough of, and the glint of adventure in his eyes.

Your nekkos take off, and the freckles on his face seem to shine in the sunlight. They form the ever familiar star map that you'd follow time and time again, finding your way back to him. Because from the first time you looked at him, you knew: you'd follow this man across the galaxy and beyond.

— — —

A/N 2: if you understand the droid name reference you get a cookie 🍪

A/N 3: in the book Battle Scars there’s a part where BD tells Cal, and i quote, “Where you go, I go”, and when i tell you that i screamed omg (the first part of my “wherever you go, i go” fic was actually called ‘where’ but i changed it to ‘wherever’ when i added more chapters because to me it sounded better asdsdf) BD-1 and me sharing one brain cell obsessed with Cal fr😌

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @dybynyght, @galaxtic-writings, @kalea-bane, @soka-writes-things, @padawancat97, @riddikulus-obsessions, @optimisticprime3, @starilicious, @ivelostmyabilitytoeven, @alternatescififandomelover

#goose feathers #cal kestis x reader #star wars cal x reader #jedi fallen order x reader #jedi survivor x reader #star wars x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months

Text

Same as it ever was 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: The reblogs and my comments await your wrath.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your turn to present comes and you stand up at the board, your budget projected as the bulb nearly blinds you. You point to the numbers and the accompanying graphs, going over each as best as you can. Your life might be an utter and complete mess but you know numbers. Your job is simple as simple gets and you can go over this ad nauseam.

Still, your focus is splintered as you find yourself stalling here and there. Each time you meet Mr Hansen's sparkling blue eyes, you nearly swallow your own tongue. You can't help but think of what you did in his office. Of what Pete would say when found out. And he will because you've never been a good liar and this isn't a secret you can keep. You just don't know how to say it.

He won't care that you were in a bind, that you were disgusted by yourself, that you didn't want to do it. You still did it. You betrayed your marriage. Even if it is a bit rocky, you made a vow. Despite the friction, you love Pete. You wouldn't have stuck around this long otherwise. It's just a rocky patch. Or it was, until this.

Your eyes linger on Hansen as he leans back in his chair and lets his gaze drift towards his lap. You gulp and look to the board, pointing out the projection as you finish up. You wallow in a momentary silence before you retreat and reclaim your seat at the conference table. You were absolutely certain to be as far from him as possible, though that was easy as all the executives cluster together.

You keep your attention at the front of the room. These things are always dull. You're not high up enough to care about more than your own piece in the puzzle. You don't make the big decisions, you just show what's there.

You sip from your cold coffee. You feel your phone vibrating in your back pocket. Not now. You ignore it and tap your fingers on the table.

You glance around and once more find Hansen’s attention on you. He should be more concerned with the marketing presentation going on. You hide any tinge of emotion; irritation, confusion, humiliation, a peer up at the front.

The meeting ends just as you catch yourself nodding off. You shuffle out with the rest of the bodies and find your desk, nearly keeling over as you sit. You got what, an hour's sleep. You don't know if you can make it through.

Your phone goes off again. Great, what is it now? You really can't handle anything else today. Your morning has already drained you of everything you have left.

Shit, it's the school. You get up and answer your phone, marching between desks to find a quiet place. You dip down towards an empty meeting room and shut yourself in. The secretary tells you Malik got sick in gym class. Today? You sigh and promise you'll be there as soon as you can.

You put your hand to your forehead and yawn as you hang up. If you have any more caffeine, you're going to explode. You just need to get through it. You always do. Not for you, for the kids. That's what it's about.

You turn and find the door open, a figure against the frame. You could like and say you're surprised but you know Mr. Hansen isn't the type to let you sink in shame. He wants to rub it in.

"You know, I didn't think witches were real but you got magic hands, toots--"

"Sir," you fight to keep your voice even, "I just got a call from my kids' school--"

"Ew, let's not with the kids," he flicks his fingers dismissively, "I'm talking about us."

"Us?" You frown, "sir, please, I have to--"

"That husband of yours, he's lucky. Is that from practice or are you just that desperate to get your hands on some prime meat?"

You give him a look, the kind you give when you're trying not to yell. As a point, you don't raise your voice. He gives a shiver as if shaking off a chill.

"I'm teasing. I'm just... let's turn this thing around, honey. You got your budget, I got... off. And now we can get along. So, let me be a nice guy and say, go, get your kid, be a good mommy, and be back bright and early tomorrow."

You stutter. You don't quite believe him. It feels like a test. A trap. He smirks and lets his hand wander down his stomach. He grips himself through his pants.

"Unless, you want more--"

"I really have to go," you squeeze your phone, "my son--"

"Alright, alright, ugh, boring," he sneers, "I don't wanna hear about the kids."

"Um, okay," you near him, "thank you, Mr. Hansen."

"Yeah yeah," he backs out of the doorway, "don't stress it." He steps aside as you go into the hallway, "unclench a little."

As you turn, you stumble, a sudden clap against your ass throwing you off balance. You steady yourself but don't look back as he retracts his hand. Your eyes are wide, your steps stiff and stunted as you tell yourself to just keep going.

Shit, this is a problem.

Your job is stressful enough. The last thing you ever wanted was to be Hansen’s next target. It’s not something you ever worried about. You’re too old, too flabby, and too worn out. When he realises that, he’ll be back to the likes of Kendra. You don’t know who you should pity more; yourself or her.

You don't have capacity right now. One thing at a time. Get Malik home, then you can figure out how exactly your life is going to implode.

🗄️

You get Malik on the couch, bundled up watching his favourite cartoons, as you sit and stare at your phone. You know that even if you called, Pete wouldn't pick up. He's too busy for you. Still, your anxiety eats away at you and makes you impatient. You can't even enjoy the time away from the office.

You make some soup once your son's stomach settles but yours is in worse shape. You don't have an appetite, you're restless and exhausted. You're in pieces.

You know you can't go back and change things. Hell, you couldn't have done anything different. You have a mortgage, insurance, and children to look after. You can't throw it all away on one man's ego.

Still, you did something wrong. Something unforgivable. If you think Pete hates you now, he's going to despise you. And you might just lose everything anyway.

You sit and bend over, holding your head. God, you're stupid and weak and awful. You chose this, a family, a man who doesn't care, and a job that gives you nothing but stress. You could've had a better life and never inflicted your mistake on anyone else.

"Mommy," Malik taps your shoulder, startling so you sit up too fast, nearly falling out of the chair, "mommy, the stove."

You look over at the pot boils over, hissing and bubbling. Great, now you've burnt the chicken noodle. You get up and quickly flip off the burner and move the pot to the next one.

"How about some vegetable soup, huh?" You offer, "sorry, Mal."

"Are you okay, mommy?" He pouts as he stands in his dinosaur pajamas.

"Yeah, yeah, mom's just tired," you answer, "go sit down. I'll clean this up. Then it should be time to go pick up Simone."

He mumbles and leaves you. You look at the burnt soup, curdled and filmy and black around the edges. Usually, you just want Pete home but tonight, you don't know what you're going to do when he gets in. You can be sure it'll be a sleepless night.

🗄️

You spend the evening avoiding your phone. It's easy. You sit and help Simone with her homework as Malik colours at the other side of the table. After dinner you get them washed up and in their pajamas in time for bed.

You can’t help but try to suck up every second. You don’t want to lose this. It can be hard, Pete’s long hours, your sore hips, the children’s antics. It can be utterly defeating but you don’t want to lose it all. Maybe you should’ve tried sooner to fix things, maybe if you did, Pete might believe you didn’t want to do what you did.

Once the kids are asleep, you're left to yourself but not really. You clean the kitchen and get lunches packed for the next day. You switch the laundry before you head up to bed but leave the light on as you lay down.

It’s a mirror of the night before, except you’re not the one with your tail between your legs. Pete gets home as late as ever. You want to be mad that he's only there on weekends to see the kids. Yet, you don't see much of him then either.

He comes upstairs, pushing back his hair as he enters, blanching as he sees you awake. His face falls and he runs his fingers around his stubbly lips. You don't say anything as he loosens his tie and sighs.

"Please, I don't wanna argue tonight," he says as he sheds his blazer, "it's been a long day."

"Alright," you agree, fighting not to squirm as your stomach flips. "But… I wanna talk about something."

"Look, we're almost there. The hard part's almost over," he explains as he unbuttons his shirt, "we're about to hit oil with this thing."

"I know, but… there's something we need to talk about–"

He closes his eyes and hangs his head back as he peels off his shirt. He's in good shape still. You suppose making your own hours gives you a lot of time for the gym.

"Can I take a shower first?" He huffs.

"Sure," you murmur. He's trying to wait you out, hoping you fall asleep before he's done. "Take a shower."

His brows rise and fall and he turns away as he digs in his pocket. He pulls out his phone and plugs it in, leaving it face down on the dresser. He unclasps the gold chain around his wrist and puts it in the jewelry tray with his watch. You watch his hands.

"Where's your ring?" You ask as you focus on his fingers.

"Oh, uh, fuck," he sniffs, "must've left it in my gym bag again."

"Mmm," you him and don't comment further.

You look down at your own band, twisting it on your finger as your inside rot with guilt. You have to face this. You have to be honest. As much as it hurts you. As much as it'll hurt you.

He moves around the room. He misses the hamper again, this time his underwear fall on the floor. You want to cry as more than just the weight of your confession crushes you. It’s all of it. The years of distance between you, the memory of good days far behind, what you’ll never have again.

The bathroom door shuts and you look up again. You get up, needing to walk off the excess energy. You pace in circles and wring your hands. You want to rehearse what you should say but you got nothing.

You hear the subtle buzz and pause. You go back to the bed and take your phone off the night table. Nothing. Not even a notification for that dumb matching game you played once while waiting at the doctor's office.

You set it back down and go back to your aimless circling. You hear it again and again. It's annoying. Tweaking your already addled nerves.

You look around and see Pete's phone, the edges limned in the glow of the overturned screen. You cross the room and flip it over to turn the volume down. You stop as the newest message pops across the top.

'Hey babe, can't wait for Saturday. Bikini or no suit at all?'

You read it once, twice, several times before your shock fully sets in. What? Your heart drops as you put his phone back as you found it and back away.

You sit on the bed and stare at the bathroom door. Things can always get worse, that's your bitter mantra. You swallow as your eyes brim with tears and your throat locks up. You listen to the showerhead buzz.

You were prepared to be the bad guy. To lay yourself bare and plead mercy. You psyched yourself up to face the music but you're unprepared for this.

You get up and turn off the lamp. You get into bed and face away from the bathroom, just like most nights. You pull the blanket to your shoulders and close your eyes. You measure your breaths to keep from crying. Once you start, you won't be able to stop.

When Pete finishes, you're still awake. Sleep? That's a joke. You just lay there and listen to him move around. When he comes to bed, he doesn't try to talk to you or wake you up.

You open your eyes and see the glow of his phone outlining your silhouette against the wall. You gulp, careful not to give yourself away. He groans and he types away on his phone. Right beside you… like you don't exist. You're just an afterthought for him. Just like your vows. Just like the kids.

As low as you thought you were that morning, you’ve sunk even further. Would he even care if he knew? You’re so unlovable, he probably wouldn’t even believe another man would let you touch them.

#lloyd hansen #pete brenner #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #dark pete brenner #dark!pete brenner #lloyd hansen x reader #pete brenner x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #the gray man #pain hustler #same as it ever was #series

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leebrontide · 2 years

Text

Ok so I said I would do a post on “reasons you’re not writing” from the POV of a writer/therapist who works with anxious, depressed, and neurodivergent clients. If you dig that, read on.

But firstly, a disclaimer. This list is far from comprehensive. Don’t yell at me if your experience isn’t represented. This is a tumblr post. Have realistic expectations.

Also, sometimes the reason you’re not writing is that your other obligations are just taking all of your energy and focus. Fixing that is well beyond the scope of this.

That said, here’s a bunch of barriers I see people run into all the time.

1) You’re afraid of failing, and subconsciously feel like it’s safer not to try.

This is a tricky one, because it's probably messing up many areas of your life, which in turn means you're going to frequently feel stressed out in general, which speaks to the point above.

This is around about where the general internet will tend to offer you an array of affirmations to use to sooth yourself. And that's fine. If those work for you, then use them! BUT, if the affirmations aren't working, then friend you have a bigger project on your hands.

You need to get comfortable with failing, particularly at creative projects. I know that can feel scary and vulnerable, but you won't take risks if you can't fail, which is going to hem in your creativity so hard that your motivation will starve. This is why people talk about writing a garbage draft. Not because they want to make garbage, but because they need the option of making garbage in order to take risks. That may or may not work for you, but either way, you really might wanna look at how to lower your stakes.

2) You’re not sure what you’re trying to communicate.

You can make things happen in the story, but you feel like you’re wandering around aimlessly. You don't find you're making decisions with conviction. It might be hard to really fall in love with any of your writing decisions.

For this one, I suggest stepping back and figuring out what the core of your enthusiasm for a story consists of. That CAN be a message or philosophy. It can also be a feeling or a vibe or a dynamic. That gives you a structure that you can build your decisions around, that you can be enthusiastic about.

3) You switched hyperfocus. And maybe your new hyperfocus is a lot of fun, but you feel sadness thinking about the WIP you left behind.

This one has a similar need to the one before, with an added layer of nuance, because you're probably already struggling with identifying what does interest you. This can make people feel really hopeless and helpless.

I have three totally different suggestions for this one. The first is to just be patient with yourself. Sometimes it's good for your brain to just indulge, and let your brain mine for dopamine where it can. Like, lean in. Spa day for your brain, as long as it's feeling good.

Secondly, see if you can find creative ways to weave your hyperfocus into your writing. Is there a dynamic in your favorite show that can inspire your writing, even if it's an original work? Do you want to take a moment to think about how transportation works in the history of your world? Can you consider your MCs relationship to old movies?

It doesn't always work, but sometimes instead of trying to switch things over, you can build a bridge, that gives depth and texture to your work.

Finally- consider embracing short fiction! Do some writing inspired directly by the hyperfocus du joir while it's around.

4) You feel like nothing you say will be interesting to anyone else.

We understand this is a self-esteem issue, right? You're gonna have to develop the trust that your experiences are not so utterly unrelatable to everyone else that your perspective has no value.

Friend, you are a human, with human experiences, writing for other humans. Trust me, you can do this.

It can help to think about your actual convictions. What do you know? What have you experienced? What matters to you? Funnily enough, the cure for feeling like nothing in you is worth expressing is to pour more of yourself into your writing.

5) You’re collapsed. It’s hard to feel enthusiasm and energy for things.

You're not gonna like this, but for this one I encourage you to put your keyboard or notebook down and stop trying to write right now. I know that when you're feeling better the writing feels good, and you're trying to feel better because everyone is telling you to feel better.

But it's not working, is it? If it was, you wouldn't be reading this.

For many people, writing requires them to be able to feel investment and excitement, because those feelings help steer them towards what's going to work and be exciting for the reader.

Your best bet is to focus your energy on finding gentle little activities that aren't so hard to focus on. Ideally, ones that get you moving just a little bit. You'll have a better time writing when you're less collapsed.

Shaming yourself and getting hopeless and anxious because you can't do this really difficult task right now will make you more collapsed, not less, which will be the opposite of helpful.

And yes, these are depression symptoms. Consider reaching out for supports and assessment around that if you can.

6) You can’t figure out the next step.

Thank God for the internet, this one is a lot more actionable than it used to be.

The first thing to do here is step back and ask yourself "where am I getting lost?" If you have someone to talk this through with, even better.

Then you hop on to your favorite search engine and type in "Stuck on my outline 2nd act" or "can't get started editing" or whatever. People LOVE giving writing advice. There's plenty around. Read some advice! Try things out!

Now here is the critical point- when and if that advice fails, stop and figure out why it failed. For example, I have a short term memory disorder. Most writing process advice is for people who do not have short term memory impairments. So a lot of the advice just plain didn't work for me.

By figuring out that my subpar memory was in the way of my writing process, I was able to put together processes that work for my specific brain and my specific process. You can read about that in more depth here and here.

Frankenstien yourself a process out of stolen bits of other people's processes, with an understanding of your own personalized needs as the lightning that brings it all to life. If you have even traits of ADHD or autism or other forms of neurodiversity (no diagnosis needed) you might also google "ADHD editing hacks".

Finally, and maybe most importantly, chuck anything that you can't adapt right into the trash. I don't care how great the writer who gave the advice is. That's what works for their life and their brain. You have neither. Writing advice is only as useful as it is adaptable.

7) You think of yourself as someone who doesn’t finish things, possibly with history to back that up.

Oh, I feel this one. This was me so hard. For so long.

Make room for the idea that you can and will change over time. Getting shit done is largely a matter of developing a bunch of skills. You've already developed so many different skills in your life that you might not even recognize some of them as skills. But I promise you that you have.

But you see #6? Go read that one again. If you're not finishing things, it's because there's something missing in your routine and process that you haven't developed skills around yet.

I'm not gonna tell you it's easy, but you can find and isolate the barriers and figure out ways around them.

8) You have too many projects and feel frozen when you try to pick one to work on.

Ask yourself if this is a real problem. It may be! Maybe you dream of making a living off of your writing! That requires a level of consistency.

But it also might just be that you've had it drilling into your head that not finishing things is some kind of personal failing.

Write out all your WIPs and story seeds.

See if some of them can be mushed into one. Some AMAZING stories come from people combining story ideas that seem separate into a single story. That's fun.

See if some of them are not for finishing. What's that post going around? Some stories are for finishing, and some are just for "getting the wiggles out"? That's solid advice.

Maybe some stories are just for daydreaming on the bus. Maybe some stories are actually only 1/3rd of a story, and you want to leave it to grow in the ground before you try to do anything with it. That's incredibly valid and common!

If you actually look at the stories that you have that are for finishing, right now, you may find a much more manageable number. And if you only have like 2 or 3 things you're working on, you can just let them take turns as the passion for each project takes you.

Keep a file somewhere of these undeveloped ideas. I have a scrivner file that has each idea it's own little sub-document so I can add thoughts to them for years as they percolate.

9) You get lost in preparation and don’t make it to the page.

A couple different things can be happening here. One thing that may be happening is that you're just a writer who needs a lot of research and prep time before you write. I'm like that. I will prewrite intensively for a year before I write a single sentence. That sounds ridiculous to a lot of people but it works with how my brain works and then when I do start writing I can easily and happily churn out a consistent 2-4k words per hour. If it works it works! Don't let anyone shame you!

The other option is that you feel like you're going to get something wrong/fail/get in trouble if you get anything "wrong". You feel safer doing research, so that's where you stay.

Only you can figure out which it is. Introspect. Then you know whether to focus on managing anxiety or just keep preppin.

10) You want to write, but when you sit down to write suddenly it’s two hours later and you’ve written like 5 words but curated 3 new playlists, read some fanfiction, and argued with some strangers on the internet.

Brains are rough, aren't they.

There are two schools of thought here. Both work, but not for all the same people.

Option 1 is to clear distractions. Download one of those apps that keeps you off the internet. Put your phone someplace that you need a ladder to reach, so you have to very actively decide to go get it. Noise cancelling headphones. Comfy clothes. Protein rich snacks and a beverage within easy reach. Pee ahead of time. Make a routine out of it to train your brain into associating this with focus.

Option 2 is to figure out the optimal level of distraction. When I write nonfiction I almost always have mindless home renovation shows on at the same time. Because nonficiton writing isn't quite stimulating enough to hold my attention. So my attention wanders and I end up doing something that WILL hold my attention. When I write fiction, I need music OR to be outdoors where I can look at trees or clouds or people on the sidewalk. I can't watch any kind of TV.

Think of your attention like a pie chart. Different writing tasks may take up different percentages of that pie. If you're awesome at focus maybe you can just put 90% of your focus on writing, and the other 10% is just making sure you don't forget to eat or something. But if you can't reliably conjure up more than 70% for one thing, then fill the rest of the pie with things you can easily pick up and put down. I only look up at the home decorating shows when my passive audio scanning suggests it's something I want to look up at.

These are both good approaches. Ignore anyone who demonizes either. That only means they've found the version that works for them.

You have your brain. Build a process for your brain.

I hope this helps. I have a free monthly newsletter if you like hearing my rants. It is...not consistently about writing advice or mental health. One time I wrote about how genetically modified goats are related to French colonized Madagascar in the 1800s as well as the modern US military. One time I broke down modern challenges to medical privacy practice policies. This is all to do with what I write but in an idiosyncratic way.

Cause I gotta write about what I care about.

#writeblr #mental health #neurodiversity #writing #writing advice #writing process #writing procrastination

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panic-flavored · 2 months

Note

I keep imagining some robotnik superior showing up unexpectedly in his lab and being like "🤨...Wait there are three mermai... *stone kills him*

I plan on writing a fic about this eventually, but I've been short on time lately 😭 Long story short, Robotnik moves Stone to an underwater lab he's been building to save him from being un-alived by the government, and at roughly the same time they find out Stone is pregnant. So fortunately the merfamily is totally safe! Here's a blurb from the WIP of that fic, since it probably won't be posted for a while:

---

The words echo off the lifeless conference room walls and rattle around unpleasantly in Robotnik’s brain. They are not words Robotnik wants to hear, and if he’s being honest, some time ago he’d forgotten that he’d ever have to hear them in the first place.

“Doctor?” Commander Walters offers Robotnik an appropriately concerned frown. “Did you hear me?”

Robotnik clears his throat, refocusing. “No, uh- no. I must have spaced out. Say that one more time for me.” He heard him loud and clear, of course, but he wants to pick through it one more time, see if there are any loopholes or contradictions he can take advantage of to be found in the words.

“Oh, sure… I understand, I’m sure you’ve been working around the clock lately.” Commander Walters says. “I said that if you’ve acquired all the data you can from the living specimen, it’s time to turn him over to the autopsy team. It’s still your project of course, so you can be as involved as you’d like to be going forward. But after six months of research, I think it’s safe to say we can–” here, Walters does that annoying rotating motion with both of his pointer fingers, “--wrap it up.”

Robotnik feels a little bit sick. Furious, mostly, but the sour heaviness in his guts is close to making him gag. Has it been six months already? Back then, this plan didn’t bother Robotnik in the slightest. When he first stormed into the biology lab to assert himself as the project leader, he didn’t care how injured and malnourished Stone was - Stone wasn’t Stone back then, he was the ‘specimen’. Robotnik hadn’t chewed out the pitiful scientists over their subpar treatment of Stone because he’d worried about Stone’s safety, it was because they’d compromised the scientific process. There was no sense in researching a living subject if that subject was too weak and sick to move, after all.

Obviously Robotnik’s opinion had changed rather quickly. He’d been told that the ‘merman’ wasn’t intelligent, wasn’t sentient. That he was mindless and violent. Fools. Almost as soon as Robotnik dismissed the rest of the team, it became apparent none of that was true. Stone quickly proved himself to be highly intelligent, learning ASL almost as fast as Robotnik once had. He was complex, loyal, and terribly interesting. He saw the world so differently than anyone Robotnik had ever met.

This is a very wordy way of saying that Robotnik fell in love, even if he hated framing it in such a simplistic, childish way.

Stone fell first, to be fair. He’d marked Robotnik, he claimed him, they were mates and now Robotnik is hearing another person say that Stone needs to be killed and torn open soon. It all seems so surreal.

“You can’t just put a time limit on science, Commander,” Robotnik says icily. “Six months is nothing. I haven’t even had ample time to study his metabolic rate yet, it’s vastly different from a humans–” “Six months was your estimation, not mine,” Walters counters. “When you took over the project, that was your projected timeframe.”

Robotnik inwardly kicks himself. He originally gave himself six months to ensure he had a comfortable cushion of time, but he’d been positive four months is all it would take to collect all the necessary data before passing Stone off to another team.

“Well if it hadn’t taken two months for the creature to fully recover from what those amateurs did to it before I arrived, I would have been done by now!” Robotnik growls. It hadn’t taken two months for Stone to recover, but it seemed a believable amount of time to a person who isn’t personally familiar with how quickly merpeople heal. “Why do you think I’ve been ‘working around the clock’, Commander? Making up for lost time!”

Walters frowns in consideration, rubbing a knuckle thoughtfully against his stubbly chin. “Ah yes, I remember reading about that in your initial reports. I hadn’t considered how much that may have set you back. In that case, I’ll give you another two months to finish your research, Doctor. Does that sound fair?”

It takes Robotnik less than a second to run the numbers, the estimations and impromptu simulations - yes, he could certainly finish his work in two months. Not the work Walters was expecting him to finish, obviously. Something much, much more important. “Two months sounds more than fair, Commander.”

#fic #reply #stobotnik merman au #stobotnik

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 8 months

Text

01/31/2024 Daily Recap

TLDR; Cast & Crew Sightings; Watch Parties; OurFlagMeansDeadloch; LubeAsACrew; Stats; UK News; Upcoming Events; Other News; Favor To Ask; Love Notes; DailyDarby/Tonight's Taika

== Cast and Crew Sightings ==

Probably the cutest sighting would be Con O'Neill's dog Cooper

== How To Help ==

How to help docs have been updated with queerties and other stats!

How To Help Save OFMD Task List - US

How to Help Save OFMD Task List - Outside US

== Watch Parties ==

Today was Day 2, episodes 3 and 4 of Deadloch!

I realised I totally forgot to crew reactions up for Deadloch yesterday! Sorry all! Here's some from todays watch!

On to episodes 5/6 tomorrow! Same time same place!

== LubeAsACrew ==

The second Lube as a crew was widely successful! Trending at #7! Thanks for catching it @_irene_adler!

Everybody had a lot of fun with it, here's some highlights!

Our lovely friend over at @Astroglide left some fantastic tweets for us, I'm including a few that stood out.

== Stats ==

Some interesting stats today! Thank you @meowzawowza_ on twitter for these details!

More stats by @lucyrosebutler regarding How well OFMD is doing in the US!

== UK News ==

Reminder! 5 days until S2 airs in the UK!

Thanks as always to our lovely @lamentus1 for the update in the UK!

"I tweeted at 13 lucky TV Guide journalists in the UK all about Our Flag Means Death and the efforts of the fandom and also why the show is so great. I have a document with their twitters and email addresses. Email will be my next line of attack! If anyone wants access to the UK TV Guide press list let me know! We were thinking that we should introduce a spoiler free way for people who are starting to watch season 2 on the BBC to interact with the campaign on Twitter. I think it might be to encourage them to follow #OurFlagBBC while encouraging anyone posting spoilers under that hashtag to add #ofmd2spoilers so that people can avoid seeing spoilers. One other thing that’s coming up later in February is that Chxrlotte on our UK crew will be releasing an Our Flag Means Death inspired track on her label on 24 February! She has a ton of gorgeous tracks that are often inspired by shows like OFMD and Good Omens, and the new one is about Ed and Stede. I’ve had a preview of the new track and it’ll make you cry! @shutupchxrlotte's Twitter Her other stuff is on Apple Music and Spotify here"

Please have a listen!

== Upcoming Events ==

#StewAsACrew

Reminder! Feb 4th is National Homemade Soup Day! More deets! Be sure to share your soup/stew pics with these hashtags:

#StewAsACrew

#SaveOFMD

#AdoptOurCrew

Not a soup bitch but still want to help?

You can politely menace: @CambellSoupCo and @CampbellsChunky with our petition hashtags!

==New Watch Party!==

Muppet Treasure Island - Feb 7th 2024

4PM EST, 1PM PST, 9 PM GMT

Watch Party Hashtags:

#MuppetPirates

#AdoptOurCrew

#SaveOFMD

== Other News ==

Warner bros stock is still dropping! Sure looks like cancelling OFMD wasn't a very lucrative plan. Thanks @iamadequate_ for this!

Max still has billboards up for OFMD in Hollywood! Thanks @LeanneBrodie13 for catching this!

Also, @_irene_adler caught some audacity from Max in trying to monetize OFMD merch for Valentine's Day.

== Favor to Ask ==

I've been working on a bit of a side project of putting together an OFMD Renewal Repository for resources that doesn't require anyone to log into ... twitter, IG, tumblr, facebook, etc. It's still WIP but I'd love some constructive feedback if anyone would be willing to take a look and let me know what they think. I won't be replacing the tumblr recaps with it, but will be posting them there minus the gifs at the end so they can be shared to other platforms if needed.

My specific questions are:

Are there more categories / different information you'd like to have added?

Is it generally easy to find information?

Is this a bad idea? (too many places with this stuff already?)

Other feedback welcome!

I am totally cool with constructive feedback, feel free to dm me :)

== Love Notes ==

Hey lovelies. Do you ever worry you're too much? Like you talk too much, or feel too much, or come off too strong? I know I do some days.

Just remember, on days you're feeling too much, you're probably shining your brightest. What other people think is too much is just you, and you're allowed to shine! Don't ever let their inability to see your worth stop you. Saw this on IG today and thought of you call. Gnight crew, all the love <3

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

These gifs go together, I don't make the rules.

#daily ofmd recap #ofmd daily recap #ofmd daily recaps #ofmd #our flag means death #gentlebeard #save ofmd #rhys darby #blackbonnet #save our flag means death #adopt our crew #saveourflag

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wolfjackle-creates · 1 year

Text

Ghost!Robin Part 10

Here's another WIP Wednesday! Hope you enjoy.

Story Summary: Danny was invited to dinner at Wayne Manor to meet Jazz's boyfriend and his family for the first time. He worked hard to make sure no ghost business would interrupt the evening. But when he arrived, all he could focus on was the ghost of the dead Robin that seemed to haunt Jason. Looks like he was breaking his promise.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1.4k

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Alfred let out a put-upon sigh. “You, and you alone”—he gave a look to everyone at the table—“may ask Mr. Danny a single question. All other questions must wait until Mr. Danny has finished his dessert and informs you he is willing to answer more of them.”

“What the fuck does Jazz mean when she says ‘spoilers’?”

Danny sighed and leaned his chair back as he looked up to the ceiling. “Yeah, okay. That’s fair. You deserve an answer to that, dead boyfriend number two.”

“Stop calling me that!”

“I’m finally not the only dead one in the family. Sorry, but I’m gonna revel in that a bit longer.” Danny grinned at him and set his chair back on the ground. “So, spoilers. Well. My grandpa is kinda the Ghost of Time. Responsible for maintaining the time stream to bring about the future that has the best outcome for the most amount of beings. We met a few years back when he was ordered to kill me but became my mentor instead. Since he’s the ghost of time, he sees all futures and doesn’t really exist in the present. Sometimes he refers to things that haven’t happened yet as if they have or brings up events from centuries or millenia ago as if they happened yesterday. Bit headache inducing if I’m honest, but I’ve gotten used to it. Jazz doesn’t like it when I share details about what Gramps has let slip about her future.”

“No I do not. I’d rather live my life as if I have some degree of free will!”

The silence from the Waynes was only disrupted by the increased typing from Tim and Barbara.

“You know what,” said Jason after a beat, “I don’t even know why I’m surprised. Jazz, your brother’s life is insane and I say that as a zombie from a family of vigilantes.”

Danny shook his head and swallowed a bite of ice cream. “You aren’t a zombie. Zombies don’t retain any memories of their lives and they can’t think. Not sure what you are, to be honest. You’re ghostly in some way as evidenced by Robin and his ability to use and eat ectoplasm. Which you also recognized, if by a different name. Though, I will reiterate, ectoplasm shouldn’t bubble or collect in pits in the living realms.”

Jason stared at him for a moment before stabbing his spoon into his own pie. He muttered something under his breath and projected, restraint, hold it in.

Danny sighed. He really shouldn’t drag this out any longer. His remaining desert was gone in a few bites.

“Fine. I’m done. How do we want to do this?”

Jazz cleared her throat, “If I may, I have a suggestion.”

Bruce nodded and gestured for her to continue.

“Look, if we take the time to answer every single question about the Infinite Realms and ghost culture, history, biology, and psychology, we will be here for years. Now, Danny’s partner Tucker is our tech guy. We can have him send over a document tomorrow with much of the information we think would be necessary for you to have. You can review it on your own time line and verify it with Justice League Dark or whomever. And you can formulate a list of questions you need further clarification on. Sound fair?”

Jazz was the best. Danny sent her a wave of love you, thanks, you’re amazing and she squeezed his knee under the table.

Bruce hummed. “And what do you wish to talk of tonight?”

Jazz leaned back slightly and looked at Danny. “Danny? I think this is all you.”

Danny nodded. To the table he said, “Over half of you are in danger from the Guys in White. I suppose I should start with showing you how.” The ecto-trackers he had pulled out earlier still sat ignored on the table. He grabbed his own version and took a position kneeling between Bruce and Barbara. Tim got up to stand behind him. Everyone else also got to their feet and started moving closer.

Danny clicked his tongue. “The screen is too small for all of you to see. Jason, stay seated over there. It’ll be easier to show what’s going on with you if you and Robin aren’t right next to each other. Damian and Cass, you are the next most affected so come over. Everyone else, I’ll show you the exact same things just after.”

Cass gave him a single nod and slid out of her seat. Damian didn’t say anything, but pushed his chair out and stalked over. He stood as far from Tim as he could while still being able to look over Danny’s head at the small screen. Cass took her place between the two.

Whatever, their family drama was not his problem. He turned on the machine. “So this device tracks ectoplasm. My design is the most sophisticated on Earth. Green is free ectoplasm—ectoplasm that isn’t part of a ghost or sentient being. Purple indicates a liminal human. Blue is an unknown ghost. Red is a known, unfriendly ghost. Yellow is a known, friendly ghost. Orange is a halfa like me. The intensity of the color indicates the strength of the being.”

“What is a liminal human?” asked Bruce. “You’ve mentioned them before.”

“I didn’t go over that?” asked Danny as colored shapes began to appear on the screen. A bright orange blob appeared in the middle, himself. He was surrounded by three purple blobs, Cass and Damian were the brightest, Steph the dimmest at the other end of the table. But what really drew his eye was Robin. He was mostly blue, but a wave of blue-organge-purple connected him to Jason who was mostly purple. Both of their main beings had some of all three colors mixed in. Danny had never seen anything like it.

But he couldn’t focus on the strange display right now. Saving the image, he decided to ask Jason later if he could show Frostbite and Tucker to get their insight. “Liminals are humans who have been exposed to ectoplasm in some way. Either through death or long-term, low-level exposure. Overtime, it makes you death-touched and that changes a person. Everyone is different. Jazz has a degree of super strength, a ghostly obsession, and true empathy. Tucker has some technopathy; Sam a green thumb like you wouldn’t believe.” Though, this was Gotham, home to Poison Ivy. “Or, well, maybe you would, living in Gotham.” Danny pointed to the purple blob that represented Bruce. “This indicates you have quite a high level of liminality. Jazz”—he pointed to where she was, her color clearly brighter than any of the Waynes—“is currently the third most liminal person I know of on Earth.” He then pointed to Stephanie, a much dimmer purple haze. “And Steph is only lightly touched.”

Bruce hummed. “So this Ghost Investigation Ward will use a device like this to track any of us who have any sort of ectoplasm in us.”

“Yeah. Only theirs isn’t nearly as good.” Danny looked to his sister. “Jazz, mind passing the GIW device down?”

“Of course.” The GIW ectoplasmic radiation sensor had their signature sleek, white design. It was passed down the line from Jazz until Bruce was able to hand it to Danny.

“Thanks.” Danny took it and turned it on. “So the GIW design looks good, but can’t differentiate between different types of ectoplasm. As of now, they aren’t even aware of liminals.”

This device, when it turned on, showed a black screen with a white bar that went up and down at a steady pace. A loading bar was visible on the bottom labeled “Scanning.”

“As you can see, theirs takes a lot longer to get readings.” It finished loading. “Here we go.” Danny was a large green shape labeled “Phantom.”

Robin was also a green shape, though he was distorted with a tail leading towards Jason. He had no label. The others, excluding Stephanie who wasn’t displayed at all, showed up as a green haze.

“Thanks to my parents, they have good readings on me which is why my name shows up. They aren’t usually too focused on identifying ghosts, though, which is why Jason-Robin doesn’t have a label. I’m a special case. The rest of you are safe from a distance, but that haze means they’d take you in for questioning at the very least.”

“Hn. What is the range on these devices?” asked Bruce.

Danny shrugged. “My stuff? From anywhere. I track through the Infinite Realms, not by Earth. GIW? Jason-Robin, they’ll be able to detect something from probably ten miles out of city limits, but they’d need to be within half a mile to get an accurate location. The Fentons? Mile or so. They get an exact location or nothing.”

----------

I don't really think I have much to say about this segment. The info dump has started! Thank you Jazz for keeping people on track. Alfred will help her if he feels people start pushing too much.

Tag List Part 1

@addie-lover-of-stories, @justwannabecat, @gin2212, @amercurio, @regonold, @overtherose, @readerzj, @sjrose1216, @echoednonny, @deeterzz, @blu-lilac, @number-one-jew, @rowanaway-fromthisbs, @vythika96, @tired-yet-awaken, @themirrorghost, @emeraldcorpral, @all-mights-asscheeks, @darkhinauniverse, @blep-23, @phandomhyperfixationblog, @larkcoe1, @thegatorsgoose, @job-ross-the-second, @britcision, @lenacraft, @bubblemixer, @androgynouslordofescapism, @purefrickingspite, @leftmiraclechaos, @lizisipancardo, @starlight-sparks, @miraculousandmore, @gildedphoenix, @sometimesthingsfallapart, @letmesayfuxk, @phoenixcatch7, @skulld3mort-1fan, @abaowo, @dhampir-princess, @idkmrpianoman, @sarina-elais, @ballzfrog-blog, @undead-essence, @spookytragedyshark, @flyingpansaurus, @akintoabitch, @marivictal, @8-29pm, @justreadingthefanfics, @happybear135, @kisatamao, @spoopyspoony, @adorablechaos, @sara0055, @screamingtofillthevoid

#dpxdc #danny fenton #jazz fenton #jason todd #anger management #ghost!robin #my writing #i had no idea where to stop this one #the scene just keeps going!#it would not have been nearly this long if my work hours hadn't been weird yesterday #the bats are definitely not happy right now

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