#it eases in instead of crashing and i get to assess the drop and determine if i can actually do more

[ourceliumnetwork]

God the wheelchair really does just fucking fix going out for me huh?

[swan-of-sunrise]

Taking Care of Business (Chapter Eight)

Summary: Din, (Y/N) and their passengers are trapped on a frozen planet and must quickly repair the Razor Crest if they have any hope of surviving.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Eight The Ship (Previous Chapter)

Jolting awake, Din pushed himself off the ship’s dashboard and groaned; the last thing he remembered before being knocked unconscious was the ship falling through the ice that he’d landed on. He was still disoriented when he glanced down at his armor and noticed the thin layer of frost coating the beskar. He reached up and flipped several switches but before he could determine just how much damage the ship had sustained, a small whimper behind him made him quickly turn around; the Frog woman was curled up on the floor of the cockpit, violently shivering as her arms wrapped around herself to generate warmth. He knelt down and helped her back into her seat as she began to quickly croak at him and gesture towards the cockpit door. Her eggs, he suddenly remembered, they were in the cargo hold when we crashed…

“I’ll find your eggs, don’t worry,” Din promised her. “Gotta get you some blankets, keep you warm…” He hurried out the cockpit doors and jumped down into the cargo hold; there was a gaping hole in the side of the hull, through which snow and freezing-cold air was blowing, and different wires and cables hung limp from the ceiling. Storage containers were strewn across the whole floor, all covered in frost, and he found himself muttering a quiet “Damn it.”

It was then that he remembered the child and his partner, and he hurriedly opened his sleeping compartment only to see the child’s hammock empty. Fear clenched at his heart as he turned back to the cluttered floor. “Kid? (Y/N)?” The Frog woman’s frantic croaking echoed down and Din called up, “Hang on, I’m looking for your eggs!” He carefully began stepping through the mess and, after hearing a small noise, bent down and threw a tarp to the side to reveal the child, an egg in his hands as he stood before the open container. “No!” He quickly closed the lid and picked up the container of eggs to examine it. It was the second time he’d caught the child eating eggs, and he was worried that the passenger would eventually notice their absences. “I told you not to do that.” The Frog woman spoke out to him again and he answered. “Found them!”

“M-Mando?”

Eyes widening, Din set the container down inside the sleeping compartment and locked it before hurrying over to where the captain’s weak voice had come from. “Dank farrik!”

(Y/N) was at the end of the cargo hold, hidden behind a storage container with her left arm pinned underneath another one, and her lips were nearly blue from the cold. “I tried…I tried moving it, but-”

“It’s okay, alor’ad, I’ve got it.” Careful not to jostle her arm, he lifted the container and set it down behind him, his heart dropping in his chest when he realized that her shoulder was bent at an unnatural angle and that she was shivering uncontrollably. “Osik…I’m gonna help you up now, okay? I need to push that shoulder back into its socket as quick as possible and I’ve gotta get you warm…” He leaned down and wrapped an arm around her waist, helping her stand before walking her over to another storage container. “Just sit here for a second, I’m gonna bring the Frog lady down here…”

Once he helped the Frog woman down the ladder and returned her eggs to her, he handed her a blanket and hurriedly fastened another over the hole in the hull in an attempt to begin warming the space. Then, he fixed (Y/N)’s dislocated shoulder and used the spare bandages from the med pack to bind her arm into a makeshift sling; she stifled her cry of pain behind her free hand and squeezed her eyes shut, but not before Din spotted the tears in her eyes. He knew first-hand how painful that kind of injury could be, so he didn’t judge his partner for what others would perceive as weakness. Once he was finished tending to her wound, he carefully wrapped a blanket around her and went to dig his spare heater out of the wreckage, turning it on and urging his companions to sit near it as he prepared a little dinner for them. (Y/N) quietly accepted her tray of food, her smile polite but her eyes betraying her anger towards him; suppressing a sigh of frustration, he turned away from her to glance at the Frog woman.

“If you hadn’t guessed, we’re in a tight spot; the main power drive’s not responding and the hull has lost its integrity. I suspect the temperature will drop significantly when night falls, and I’ll have a better idea of our prospects at that time.” He lowered himself onto the floor and leaned against the wall, making himself as comfortable as he could given the circumstances. The Frog woman began croaking urgently at him, gesturing to eggs while she did, and Din hopelessly answered, “I’m sorry, lady, I don’t understand Frog. Whatever it is, it can wait until morning.” He looked over at (Y/N), who was picking half-heartedly at her tray of food, and continued. “I recommend you both get some sleep.”

The captain didn’t acknowledge his words but when he crossed his arms and glanced back down, he noticed the child waddle his way over and cuddle against his side beneath his cape. Well, at least there’s one person who’s not angry with me, Din thought dejectedly to himself; (Y/N) was right, he shouldn’t have run from the New Republic rangers, but he’d panicked. He didn’t want to put any of them in danger, but that’s exactly what had happened anyway.

Before he fell asleep, Din watched as (Y/N) quietly set down her food and stood, removing the blanket from around her shoulders and placing it on top of the Frog woman’s eggs before settling down on the floor opposite him and wrapping her uninjured arm around herself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wake up, Mandalorian.”

Din quickly jolted awake as the all-too familiar voice rang through the cargo hold, his blaster in his hand before he could fully register what he was looking at. Zero, the droid pilot from the prison breakout job, was still in pieces and secured to the wall of the ship, but a wire was now attached to its head and its opposite end was being held by the Frog woman; when she croaked again, Zero’s voice emitted from the head. “This cannot wait until morning. Do not be alarmed, I bypassed the droid’s security protocols and accessed its vocabulator.”

As (Y/N) and the child began to stir, Din holstered his blaster with more force than necessary. “What the hell are you doing? That droid is a killer.”

“These eggs are the last brood of my life cycle.” The Frog woman explained, resting a hand on her egg container sitting beside her. “My husband has risked his life to carve out an existence for us on the only planet that is hospitable to our species. We fought too hard and suffered too much to resign ourselves to the extinction of our family line. I must demand that you hold true to the deal that you agreed to.”

“Look, lady, the deal is off,” He growled in frustration, gesturing at the wreckage around them. “We’re lucky if we get off this frozen tomb with our lives!”

The Frog woman was unperturbed. “I thought honoring one’s word was a part of the Mandalorian code. I guess those are just stories for children.”

Across from him, (Y/N) visibly flinched at her words and the child looked up at him with near-pleading eyes; Din finally capitulated, easing the child off his lap before clambering to his feet, grabbing his toolkit and storming outside to assess the ship’s damages. The ship was in a bad shape but as he continued to examine it, he determined that it could thankfully still fly, albeit with a fair amount of patches and repairs. He was busy rewiring some of the broken cables near the engine when (Y/N) slowly approached him, a look of apprehension on her face as she knelt on the snow beside him.

“It’s, um…it looks a lot worse than it is. If the repairs go well, we can be out of here as soon as tomorrow.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Good, good. I…well, on the off-chance that we don’t, I just…I wanted to apologize for using your Creed against you when we first met.” His brow rose in surprise at her words; out of all the things he’d been expecting her to say, that certainly hadn’t been one of them. “It wasn’t fair of me to throw it in your face to get what I wanted, and I’m sorry.”

Din was at a loss for words; almost from the moment he swore the Creed, people had ridiculed his way of life and would often try using it against him to gain an upper hand on him. It had bothered him at first but he’d eventually grown used to the jabs and insults, learning to ignore or shrug them off. (Y/N) was the first person he’d ever met who bothered to apologize to him for her words.

Seeing her begin to rise, he shook himself out of his astonishment and grabbed her wrist to halt her; she looked at him with widened eyes, and he cleared his throat before speaking. “Thank you. I’m sorry as well. I shouldn’t have run from those rangers, and I apologize for not listening to your warnings.” His partner’s usual cheery smile brightened her face at his words and Din blushed beneath his helmet, quickly turning back towards the ship and gesturing at the hole in the hull. “You should get some rest, alor’ad. Your shoulder-”

“Feels perfectly fine, Mando. I can still help you with…” She trailed off, looking past him and furrowing her brow in confusion. “I think the little guy’s trying to tell us something.”

Looking in the same direction she was, Din’s eyes fell on the child, who was babbling and pointing at something on the other side of the ship. With a sigh of exasperation, he called over to him. “How about you come over here and give us a hand? Make yourself useful.” Instead of waddling over to them, the child walked behind the ship and out of sight. “Hey, kid!” He exchanged a look with (Y/N) and they both got to their feet, hurrying off after him. “I said, hey! Where are you going?”

“Come back here, little guy!” (Y/N) added; they turned the corner and made their way over to where the child had stopped.

Din knelt down beside him, instantly noticing the fresh footsteps in the snow. “When did she go?” According to his helmet’s thermal scan, it hadn’t been that long. With a small sigh, he picked up the child and stood. “It’s not safe for her to be out there alone. C’mon, let’s go.”

They slowly made their way through the icy caverns, careful not to make too much noise as they followed the Frog woman’s footsteps. Beside him, (Y/N) had drawn her blaster and was holding it in her good hand while Din kept a tight hold on the curious child in the crook of his arm. They turned a corner and found themselves standing within a massive cave; icicles the size of mudhorns hung from the ceiling and strange-looking objects rested all along the snow.

The familiar sounds of croaking caught Din’s attention and he looked over to see the Frog woman sitting in a glowing hot spring, with all her eggs floating at the top of the steaming water. “There you are,” He exhaled in relief, hurrying over to the hot spring with (Y/N) close behind him. “You can’t leave the ship, it’s not safe out here.” He set the child down at the edge of the water and knelt. “Let’s gather these up…”

Their passenger made a sound of protest as he began carefully putting her eggs back in her container; while he worked, he noticed (Y/N) sit down by the edge of the spring and give the Frog woman a sympathetic smile. “I know that it’s cold, but night’s coming fast and we can’t protect you out here; in the morning, Mando and I are gonna start working on repairs and we’ll be off this planet in no time. When we get back to the ship, I’ll look through my clothes for anything that’ll keep you and your eggs warm, okay?”

Because of the stunt she’d pulled earlier with the decapitated droid, Din knew that the Frog woman had understood the captain’s soothing words and with a nod of her head, she began helping him gather up the floating eggs. He glanced over at (Y/N) and couldn’t help but take note of how the faint glow from the hot spring illuminated her features; without thinking, he blurted out, “You’re good at that. Talking to people, I mean, making them feel comfortable. I just usually tend to scare them off and-No! No.” Din scolded the child, who’d taken advantage of his distraction and tried reaching for an egg. The child, looking a little more than miffed, walked away and he continued placing eggs into the container.

“Well, you haven’t managed to scare me off.” (Y/N) remarked, the corner of her mouth curving into a teasing smile. “You must be slipping, Mando; I thought that bounty hunters, even former ones, were supposed to terrify everybody they come across.”

Just as Din was about to indulge in their usual playful banter, the child’s cry echoed throughout the cave and his head whipped around in alarm; the child was running as fast as he could towards them, fear evident in his large eyes, and it didn’t take long for Din to realize why. The strange-looking objects that were strewn across the snow were beginning to shudder and hatch, and pale spiders of differing sizes began to emerge.

Quickly standing, he hurried over to where the child was and picked him up before backing away from the hatching creatures. His eyes widened in panic as more and more eggs began to break open, covering the floor of the cave with an ever-growing crowd of spiders. While he closed the lid of the egg container and slung it over his shoulder, the Frog woman hastily threw on her clothes and (Y/N) ushered her out of the hot spring; an echoing growl made the three of them look up and Din’s jaw dropped when an enormous spider, easily the size of his ship, crawled out of a deeper part of the cave.

“Go, go, go! Back to the ship!”

All three of them sprinted out of the cave and into the maze of icy tunnels, closely pursued by the swarm of spiders. While they ran, (Y/N) aimed her blaster and began shooting at the spiders behind them and Din, seeing spiders beginning to appear in front of them, drew his blaster and fired. A tunnel beside them was quickly blocked off when the massive spider shot a web at its entrance, so they quickly hurried down another; the Frog woman leapt past both Din and (Y/N), who were forced to holster their blasters so they could run faster from the advancing spiders. Although he couldn’t see it, he could hear the largest spider pursuing them from above, the impact of its legs shaking the frozen ceiling of the tunnel. A sharp cracking noise above alerted him to danger and his free hand shot out to haul the Frog woman back just as the spider’s long leg broke through the ceiling and was pulled up.

“Take her and get back to the ship, I’ll buy you some time!” Din yelled to (Y/N) as they ran.

The captain frantically shook her head. “No, I’m not leaving you behind!”

Thinking fast, Din pulled out three bombs and threw two of them on either side of the tunnel, then threw the third at the ceiling where the largest spider was. The bombs exploded, causing the tunnel to cave in on itself and he turned to watch the creature’s lifeless body crash to the ground before running after (Y/N) and the Frog woman. His partner had drawn her blaster again and was shooting at anything that moved; Din quickly did the same but once it became apparent that there were too many spiders to shoot and kill, he holstered his blaster and pushed (Y/N) and the Frog woman behind him before igniting the flamethrower on his vambrace.

White-hot flames shot out towards the swarm of spiders and instantly burned them to a crisp, but as the three of them continued to run, even more of the creatures began pursuing them. The broken-down ship finally came into view as he and (Y/N) continued firing their blasters at the spiders, and Din silently prayed that they’d be able to get the ship into the air in time to escape the swarm.

“Cover me!”

(Y/N) continued shooting spider after spider while Din turned and handed both the child and the egg container over to the Frog woman; he’d just ushered their passenger into the ship when the captain let out a cry of alarm, and he turned to see that her good arm had been webbed to the side of the ship. A smaller spider leapt towards them and on instinct, Din caught it in his fist and crushed it before throwing it aside; seeing the spiders inching closer to them, he helped (Y/N) wrench her arm free before pushing her into the ship and following after her. He continued blasting at the spiders as they followed them into the ship, scrambling up the ladder and shooting at the creatures as they emerged from the hole.

Seeing that his efforts were useless, Din stepped into the cockpit and tried closing its doors but the influx of spiders kept them from closing all the way. Desperate, he began shooting at the spiders through the crack in the door and (Y/N) quickly did the same, firing at the spiders that were lower down. The child’s fearful cry rang out over the sounds of their blasters firing and Din looked over just in time to see the Frog woman shoot at several small spiders that had been attacking him with a small blaster; their gazes met and he hurriedly nodded in thanks before turning and using his flamethrower to take care of the rest of the creatures. The door finally closed, but the danger hadn’t yet passed; the spiders had begun crawling over the outside of the ship.

“Strap yourselves in!” Din dropped down into the pilot’s seat, pressing buttons and flipping several switches; his hands flew over the various controls as he prepared the ship for take-off, and they were soon joined by (Y/N)’s good hand. They shared a brief glance before resuming their work, and he muttered under his breath to her, “This better work.”

“From your mouth to the Maker’s ears,” The captain replied, reaching over him to press a final button and letting out a sigh of relief as the ship shuddered to life. “We’re good to go!”

“I’ve got limited visibility, so it’s gonna be a bumpy ride.” He called out as they both pulled on the ship’s main lever; after a long moment, the engines began firing and the ship began to slowly rise. It continued to rise and as spiders began dropping off of it, (Y/N) glanced over at him with a hopeful grin that he couldn’t help but match underneath his helmet.

Their happiness was, predictably, short-lived. Something large and heavy landed on the top of the ship, slamming it back down into the ground; the force of the crash sent (Y/N) toppling onto his lap and while she struggled to right herself, Din watched through the ship’s viewport as the enormous spider he’d assumed had died prepared to pierce its leg into the cockpit. Quick as a flash, he wrapped his arms around his partner and pulled her closer to him just as its leg slammed into the space where her head had just been. Another leg slammed into the cockpit before being pulled out; all four of them watched in dread as the massive creature peered at them through the viewport. Somewhere behind him, the child whimpered in fear and he felt (Y/N) tense in his lap as the spider suddenly latched its mouth onto the viewport above them.

Its attack was stopped by an onslaught of blaster bolts and moments later, part of the spider’s carcass slid off the front of the ship. The sounds of blasters firing continued, illuminating the cockpit with red-tinted flashes; with her eyes widened in shock, (Y/N) turned to him and shakily asked, “Who the hell could that be?”

“I don’t know, but let’s find out.” He loosened his hold on the captain and let her stand before getting up; he made sure that the Frog woman and the child were unharmed before drawing his blaster and cautiously making his way down into the cargo hold. The entire space was covered in sticky spider webs and spider carcasses, and he was quick to shoot at one that was still crawling; with a brief glance at (Y/N), the two of them raised their blasters and slowly emerged from the ship to see their saviors.

“Son of a mud-scuffer, you’ve gotta be kidding me…” Din breathed out, watching as the two New Republic rangers sat atop their X-Wings and expertly shot down spider after spider that was still on the ship.

They soon stopped and watched as the two of them stepped forward, and the man on the right called out, “We ran the tabs on the Razor Crest. You have an arrest warrant for the abduction of Prisoner X-Six-Nine-Eleven.” Din kept his eyes on the two rangers but he could sense that (Y/N) was shooting him a look. “However, onboard security records show that you apprehended three priority culprits from the Wanted Register. Security records also show that you put your own life in harm’s way to protect that of Lieutenant Davan from the New Republic Correctional Corps. Is that true?”

“Am I under arrest?”

“Technically, you should be, but these are trying times.” The man glanced over at (Y/N), who had already holstered her blaster. “We also ran the credentials that you gave us, Captain (Y/N) (Y/L/N) of the Alliance Starfleet. According to your service record, you saved the lives of thousands of civilians during your years of service to the Rebellion; the New Republic owes you a great debt of gratitude.”

Clearing her throat, (Y/N) replied, “Thank you, Ranger.”

“Let’s say I forgo the bounties on those three criminals…” Din interjected, realizing that his partner was uncomfortable talking about her service record. “Can you two help me fuse my hull so I can get off this frozen rock?”

“Let’s say you fix that transponder, and we don’t vaporize that antique the next time we patrol the Rim?”

Fair enough, Din thought to himself as they watched the two X-Wings take off. They made their way back into the ship, where the Frog woman and the child were waiting for them. “All right, we’re gonna repair the cockpit enough for us to limp to Trask. There’s nothing I can do about the main hull’s integrity, so we’re gonna have to get cozy in the cockpit.” His words brought back the memory of (Y/N) sitting in his lap and he was thankful that his helmet could mask his growing blush. “It’s the only thing I can pressurize. If you need to use the privy, do it now. It’s gonna be a long ride.”

With (Y/N)’s aid, the repairs were quickly completed and he said another silent prayer as he sat down in the pilot’s seat; the Frog woman was already strapped into her seat, her canister of eggs resting in her lap. (Y/N) dropped down into her own seat with an exhausted sigh and rested her feet on her storage container; since they couldn’t fix the main hull’s integrity, she insisted on moving her things into the cockpit to keep them safe.

“Okay, the repairs are all done,” Din informed the Frog woman, holding the child in his lap as he pressed the final buttons. “Let’s see if we can get this thing going once and for all.” He slowly pulled on the ship’s main lever and the ship shook itself to life; they continued to rise and in no time, they were leaving the frozen planet’s upper atmosphere. He breathed out a sigh of relief before turning to look at (Y/N). “Wake me up if someone shoots us, or if that door gets sucked off its rails.”

(Y/N) bit back a smile at his bad joke, but the sounds of the Frog woman’s concerned croak made the captain quickly look over at her and shake her head. “It’s okay, ma’am, that’s not gonna happen…”

“I’m kidding. If that happened we’d all be dead,” He continued, watching in amusement as the captain threw him an exasperated look and continued to reassure their passenger. “Sweet dreams.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading!

Mando'a Translations: Alor'ad-Captain Osik-Shit

Chapter Nine

Taking Care of Business Masterlist

Tagging: @remmysbounty​ @sinon36​ @seninjakitey​ @thatonedindjarinfan​ @ginger-swag-rapunzel​ @mostclevermiss​ @momc95​ @welcometothepedroverse​ @sarahjkl82-blog​ @zukoyonce​ @itsnottilly​

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Fractured Foundation: Scorned Soul Ch.5 Spark

The smallest embers can lead to raging wildfires if left unattended.

”Ladybug…" Adrien looked down as the guilt opened a pit in his stomach. "I'm sorry-”

Carapace interrupted Adrien by tackling him. Arms wrapping around him in a tight embrace. "You're okay!" The Turtle's voice broke. "You're okay."

Confusion clouded Adrien's eyes but, slowly, he wrapped his own arms around Carapace. "I didn't... hurt anyone, did I?"

Feeling Carapace stiffen under his hands was all the response Adrien needed. Pulling away from the hero Adrien curled in on himself. "I see."

"It wasn't your fault you were akumatized!" Queen Bee pointed out. Coming off harsher than she meant to, Chloe softened her voice. "Everyone has bad days. It doesn't mean you're a bad person."

Adrien bit his lip. Chloe's words seemed to have the opposite effect of her intention. If the growing void in his gut was any indication.

Rena Rouge stepped forward to add her voice to Chloe's. "She's right, Adrien. You two aren't the only ones here who were akumatized."

Eyes widening, Adrien's head whipped towards Rena. Her? Akumatized? And Ladybug still trusted her with a Miraculous? Maybe he-

Suddenly, four near simultaneous beeps rang out. Announcing the heroes' imminent detransformation.

"...Go. I'll collect your Miraculous later," Ladybug decided.

Carapace shot his Miraculous an accusing look as Rena Rouge grabbed his arm and pulled him away. Casting worried glances at Adrien over his shoulder. Queen Bee stood still, struggling with what to say, before she too left. Eyes locking with Ladybug for a too brief moment.

Coming closer, Ladybug held out Adrien's previously akumatized item. The lucky charm she gave him.

Letting it drop into his hand Adrien stared at it. Slowly, he brought it to his chest.

Placing a hand on his shoulder Ladybug pretended not to feel him tense at her touch. She opened her mouth... And nothing came out. Fire and smoke danced behind her eyes as Scorned Soul's heartbreak echoed in her mind. No words seemed solid enough, strong enough, to pierce the spell. Not even to ask why Adrien was akumatized in the first place.

"Have you ever had something you loved ripped away from you?"

No. Ladybug couldn't say that she had. So, instead she said. "I can take you home?"

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say as Adrien's shoulders hunched slightly. And Ladybug was about to force words out of her mouth to fix it. Even if they didn't come out right, even if they wouldn't obey her, when Adrien answered. "... O-okay."

He trembled in her arms as his own wrapped tightly around her neck. Burying his face in her shoulder to avoid looking at her. Ladybug swinging quickly across the city. Relief at the lack of fires bloomed in her chest. Adrien's grip shifted as he focused on keeping his breath even.

At the sight of the Agreste manor her eyes watered. There was no sign at all of Scorned Soul's unbridled rage. Adrien seemed to sense her shift in mood and opened his eyes.

A vise gripped his heart as he saw their destination. Tears streamed in the wind, disappearing into his hair. When he searched himself for the reason why his eyes stung at the sight there was nothing. Nothing but fire and ash.

Before leaving him in his empty room Ladybug glanced back. Eyes setting in determination. But for what he didn't know. Then she was gone.

The door to his room slammed open. Adrien jumping at the sound. Gabriel strode in, his expression thunderous. Nathalie hurrying behind.

"F-Father?"

"What have you done!?" Gabriel snapped and Adrien flinched at the steel in his voice. "What have you done!?"

Adrien backed away. "I- I don't-"

"Gabriel," Nathalie soothed, though there was a tremor to her words. "Ladybug put everything back as it should be. Everything is fine."

Taking a deep breath Gabriel adjusted his tie. The eruption he was about to loose on his son quelled. For now. Fixing Adrien with his usual look of unimpressed dismissiveness, Gabriel turned on his heel and left. Nathalie glanced at Adrien sympathetically before closing the door.

Adrien collapsed to the floor as his breath came in sobbing gasps. Tears burning from his eyes. His phone rang. He tossed it away without looking. There was no more strength for speaking to others. Gabriel sapped it out and left without even saying why he was so angry.

His phone rang again. Adrien stood, stumbling, and muted it. He felt... drained... Empty... Alone.

----------

Marinette waited quietly, if not quite patiently, across from Master Fu. Her desire to speak was superseded by the persistent guilt that weighed down her tongue. Their kwamis whispered to each other beside the Miracle Box.

First losing Chat Noir then almost losing Adrien, it was too much. She shuddered at the way Scorned Soul had somehow manifested her guilt. Using her own emotions to add fuel to his fire. Turning her own weaknesses against her...

Finally, Master Fu spoke. "I am sorry."

Marinette stared, uncomprehending.

“I created this hatred in him. I could have simply addressed it with him. He was not beyond hope…”

"Wait... Chat Noir is going through the same thing as Adrien!? We have to help him! We have to-"

"Sit down, Marinette. I have already decided to return Chat Noir's Miraculous to him."

Her legs suddenly unable to hold her weight, Marinette collapsed back onto her seat. "I- Really?"

Master Fu nodded, glancing from the Miracle Box to giving her a knowing look. "Recent events have shown me that it is better he remain by your side."

A thought came to the forefront of Marinette's mind. It solved a problem she actively prevented herself from solving. But it wasn't the first time she dismissed it. So, with practiced ease she sent the unwanted answer back where it came from. "Thank you, Master Fu."

He waved away her thanks. "I acted rashly. It is only fitting I correct my mistake."

"Stll-" Marinette's phone rang and she saw her maman's face smiling from the screen. "I have to go Master Fu." Marinette stood and this time her legs held. "Tikki, transforme-moi!"

Ladybug stood for a moment at Master Fu's window. Glancing back at her mentor, Ladybug smiled. A genuine smile at the thought of seeing her partner again. "Thank you." And then she swung away.

Master Fu stood slowly. Although the Miraculous Cure healed his burns the memory of them had not faded.

Wayzz hovered closely to his wielder. "Master?"

"I am alright, Wayzz," he walked toward the Box and pressed the proper code to open it, "Simply thinking."

The ring of the Black Cat seemed to wink at him in the light. Casting his mind back to that day.

Master Fu remembered a call from his memory-less protege suddenly being cut off. A great sphere of amnesia magic ready to wipe every mind in Paris clean. But mostly he remembered Ladybug getting hit while covering Chat Noir. His last mistake, which convinced Master Fu to take his Miraculous.

Picking up the ring, Master Fu placed it in one of the smaller octagonal boxes. He would keep a closer eye on Chat Noir. Obviously, he was too susceptible to akumatization to be let in more than he already had. But this time Master Fu would be there. Watching and assessing from the side. This time Chat Noir would have a guiding hand to set him on the proper path.

----------

Adrien stared disbelievingly at the box in his hand. The same one he'd found the ring in over a year ago. It was even in the same place.

Why? That thought echoed in his head. Sweat beading along his brow, hand trembling and mouth dry.

Why? It was only a day since his akumatization. And suddenly his Miraculous reappeared in his room without explanation or warning.

Why? It was the question itself that made him hesitate to open the box. Or was it the answer?

Why? Gut clenching Adrien snapped it open.

Before he even finished materializing Plagg crashed into Adrien. Calling out his name. Purring into Adrien's chest.

The last shred of his disbelief faded as Adrien slowly hugged Plagg to himself. Tears brimming as Adrien asked for answers he knew would bring no satisfaction. "Why?"

Plagg stopped purring. "Well, Master Fu changed his mind."

"Why?"

Floating at eye level, Plagg gazed at Adrien. "He realized taking me away was a mistake."

"Why?"

Ears drooping, Plagg's tail fidgeted anxiously. "Is that all you're going to say?"

"I was akumatized," Adrien stated, a question in his voice.

Plagg forced his tail to still. "He... Fu's sorry he took Chat Noir away from you."

"I see... And he couldn't even tell me that himself." Adrien turned towards his bed.

Zooming after him, Plagg tried to elicit some reaction besides this unsettling monotone. "Adrien-"

"I'm sorry."

Plagg blinked.

Adrien stared at his friend. "It's good to see you again." He smiled sadly. "I... I missed you."

"Of- Of course!" Plagg tried to downplay the sudden lump in his throat. "I missed you too."

Adrien's smile became a touch brighter.

"Why don't we take a little rooftop stroll? That's always fun."

Abruptly, Adrien's fledgling smile fell and he looked down. Normally he'd jump at the chance to transform, to fly across Paris. But transforming meant seeing Ladybug again. And he didn't want to face her. Not yet.

"Thanks, Plagg." He started for his bed again. "But I'm tired. Maybe later..."

Stunned into silence, Plagg slowly floated into the boy's hair while Adrien settled in. Adrien never turned down an opportunity to transform... Plagg purred for his kid. And if Adrien's tears stained his pillow, well, Plagg wouldn't tell anyone.

----------

Ladybug didn't find Chat Noir until the third night.

He wasn't transformed when she checked her yo-yo contacts and couldn't bring herself to leave a message. She didn't know what to say. Still, Ladybug searched his favorite spots and double checked his patrol routes. All in vain.

Until she spotted a dark shadow purely by chance. Turning sharply, Ladybug angled herself towards the rooftop. "Chat Noir!"

The shadow stiffened at her voice and turned in her direction.

Landing, Ladybug all but tackled him into a huge hug. "I'm glad you're back!" Pulling back to get a better look at him, her enthusiasm faded.

Chat Noir was smiling but... it didn't reach his eyes. His ears were flat against his head and his tail hung limply from his waist. As he pushed her to a respectable distance Ladybug realized he never hugged her back. Merely let his arms hang limply and let her do what she wanted.

"Chat?"

"Hello, Ladybug."

"Wh- What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." His smile widened but his ears didn't move. "Everything's fine."

Ladybug didn't believe him. "I... I'm sorry I didn't try harder to convince Master Fu."

That did get a reaction. Eyes widening slightly and ears twitching, Chat Noir's smile tightened. "It's fine. You were just obeying your Master."

Before Ladybug could linger on how he'd called Master Fu her Master instead of their Master, Chat Noir jumped to the roof's edge.

"Well, we should get started on patrol don't you think?"

"What? Chat wait-" Ladybug reached for him but he was already leaping away from her. Fading into the shadows.

This whole mess started because he couldn't act professionally. Because he burdened Ladybug with his feelings when she needed to focus. Distracted her with his irrelevant emotions. Chat Noir knew that the only reason Master Fu gave him the ring back was for Ladybug's sake. It was... something. For him to lie and say he regretted taking Plagg away.

But it wasn't true.

Master Fu only regretted that Adrien's emotions hurt Ladybug. So, he would keep them buried like he always does. Chat Noir would smile and do what he was told and not ask questions. That's what everyone expected of Adrien anyway, it was foolish to think anyone would want differently from Chat Noir. He had practice, after all.

Pressure built up in his chest and pushed into his throat. But he swallowed it down. Adrien wouldn't make the mistake of baring his heart again.

That never gave him anything but pain.

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

Inspired by @gale-of-the-nomads Scorned Soul AU.

To Be Continued in Fractured Foundation: Chat Blanc

[livingmybestfictionallife]

Live Wire --The Dirt--(10)

Summary: Wren Ledden, Tommy’s best friend from high school, has had a rough life, and she intends to keep the nitty gritty details of her suffrage to herself until the day she dies. Only Tommy has gotten her to open up about a small portion of her troubles, and it’s only Tommy who she trusts with her life. That is until her life gets turned around sneaking into a concert one night…the same night Mötley Crüe is born.

@prettyyoungandbored​, @hot-young-runningfree​, @crue-sixx​, @oskea93​, @dancergirl5527​, @thatonemoviefan​, @casualcomputerarbiter-blog​, @motleymachinegun​, @motleycrueee​ 

Previous Chapters:

One,   Two,    Three,    Four,    Five,    Six,    Seven,   Eight,   Nine

“What the fuck am I doing?!” Wren had been sitting on the kitchen floor, staring aimlessly out into the band’s practice spot for what felt like hours. In reality, she’d only missed out on the last five or six minutes, but during that time, her mind spun with self-actualization. The apartment wasn’t home without the band, without Tommy slamming cymbals, without Nikki grumbling at her for sitting on his amp, without Mick passing her a side ways glare whenever one of the boys did something idiotic, or even without Vince’s bantering appreciation of her help. Five years had gone by without a thought of that horrible person crossing her mind, and now because of some big mouthed blonde bimbo, Wren had reverted back to the frightened and fragile fourteen-year-old she had been. 

At fifteen she decided she wasn’t going to let that tainted chapter bleed through the pages and darken the rest of her life. A year of fearfully looking over her shoulder, of feeling her heart pound within her chest so fiercely she thought she’d throw up, of not being able to trust a single damned person in the world besides Tommy Lee Bass was all it took for her to chisel her heart and turn herself to stone.

Although it was none of her business and she knew that some girls found power in their physicality and sexuality, Wren never held a high opinion for girls that didn’t seem to have a problem lying on their backs in a stranger’s room. This was half of the reason she never sought out any sort of romantic relationship; the other half was because of Clay. She didn’t want to be reminded of that night, and if she wasn’t touched, she didn’t have to remember. If she wasn’t held, she wouldn’t close her eyes and panic at the memory of having his arms around her. If she was alone, no one could hurt her.

Being friends with Tommy and hanging around with his friends during high school kept her safe, not only from the grueling torment more commonly known as teenage girl drama, but from having to fend off suitors—if they think you’re one of the guys, then you’re no longer a girl in their eyes. After escaping Clay, growing infinitely closer to Tommy, and finding some guidance from a kind-hearted man named Bob whom she met in the park she lived in for close to a month, Wren took her identity into her own hands. She loved to sing, but since her parents wouldn’t let her do it on her terms, she quit choir and only sang in the comfort of her car or shower. She dropped the good-girl persona of pastel, feminine clothing that her parents insisted she wore because, “respectable women don’t wear black leather,” and spent a solid ninety-five percent of her time with Tommy. He was her best friend, but her was also her oasis; he was peace, comfort, warmth, and protection, and she was about to let him down.

I’m not that person anymore,” she defiantly said to herself as she rose from the floor, grabbed her keys from the counter top, and rushed out the door.

During the first few nights at their new place, Wren was hesitant about living on the Strip—loud drunk people wandering through the neighborhood wasn’t exactly an appealing quality—but as she jogged the block’s distance from their apartment to the Whiskey, Wren was counting her lucky stars and praying she wouldn’t miss seeing them on stage. With the cold, evening air of the desert in her lungs, Wren’s legs carried her stride toward the bouncer who looked at her up and down before folding his arms over his chest.

“Are you looking to get in or are you out for a run?” the man questioned as he jutted his chin out in order to appear more authoritative over the much smaller young woman. Wren hadn’t even assessed her wardrobe during the moments she decided to pick herself up and not fuck up her future, and so she appeared at the club in tennis shoes, black jogging shorts, and a tattered, old AC/DC t-shirt.

“I’m with the band,” Wren stated in her best matter-of-fact tone despite being slightly out of breath from sprinting down the street.

“You and half the other underage chicks who try to slip in,” the man grunted with a scoff rising from his stomach only to be returned with Wren’s narrowed eyes and pursed lips.

“Do you want me to buy a ticket?” Wren’s snarky tone slapped the man in the face as he looked down his nose at her.

“All sold out,” he responded in a curt, unapologetic tone.

“My best friend is about to get on stage and you can be damned sure I’m not about to miss it!” Although I’m a piece of shit because I did almost miss it, she quickly thought to herself. “Is there a list or something that I need to be on?” Upon hearing her question, the bouncer’s eyebrows furrowed as he recalled one of the stage managers giving him a name—shit, what was it? Dan Lemmon? Ben Lennon? “My name is Wren Ledden. I’m sure Tommy mentioned to someone I was coming. Nikki Sixx works here; he’s playing tonight. I’m the closest thing that group of misfits have to a manager. You have to let me in!”

“Ledden does ring a bell,” the man said as he lowered his arms and stepped aside. “You can come in, but I have an eye on you. I have a friend down the strip who’s told me about you; you shouldn’t be sneaking into clubs. It’s gonna catch up to you one day.”

“If Mötley makes it as big as I think they will, I won’t have to sneak anywhere ever again,” Wren said with a smirk as she jogged past the entrance and into the Whiskey just in time to see Vince jog up onto the stage and introduce the band as his nerves fluttered around within him. Silence engulfed the room as the crowd stared at the collection of boys and men on stage. Wren hurried to make her way toward the front and hopefully ease her way backstage to support her friends, however her heart sunk to her knees at what happened next. Tommy’s cymbal rolls at Vince’s introduction ended with a smash, but not on the crash cymbal. Instead, out of nervous panic, he kicked the cymbal stand over and earned a humiliating fit of laughter from the audience.

Wren contemplated jumping onto the stage to help him reset his drums, but Tommy had already lunged around the trap set while shouting expletives. She scanned the stage, hoping to lock eyes with any member of the band; however, all she managed to capture was the uneasiness each member carried. Vince had been a hype man and eye candy for his last band, but this was a different crowd. There were women present, but definitely not to the degree he was used to, and Wren could see him weighing that fact in his mind. Mick seemed cool and collected, but something about his demeanor seemed slightly forced. Tommy was nearly shaking from the amount of adrenaline coursing through his body, and Nikki wore a face full of his signature austere, ‘what the fuck are you looking at?’ grimace that Wren determined was a major part of his protective shell.

Almost as soon as Tommy knocked over his cymbal, the crowd began to transform from the quiet, uninterested patrons Wren had walked in on, into heartless, taunting, and jeering asses. Comments along the lines of “You suck,” and “Get off the stage!” began to slip from the crowd and, with each passing remark, Wren could feel her lips tighten across her face and her fingers curl tighter into a fist.

Vince tried his best to ignore the comments and attempted to hype the band up as they began ‘Take Me To The Top’, but as he began to dance, his movements were jerky and his face seemed pale. Again, the crowd’s pre-formulated opinions about the band based upon Tommy’s accident at the beginning and the band’s attire kept the audience from experiencing all that Mötley Crüe had to offer. The band started heavy and hard, and it genuinely seemed like they were taking their nerves out on their instruments in the most beneficial way they could, but that didn’t stop a few men in the crowd from attempting to rile up the band.

As Vince waited for his cue to come in, one burly, barrel chested, bearded man called out, “Who’s the chick singer?” which earned a large laugh from the people around him.

“Hey, fuck you asshole!” Vince called back from the stage, but the man could hear Wren—having been much closer to the antagonist than Vince—loud as day from over his shoulder.

“Why don’t you fuck off or get the fuck out?!” she shouted over Mick, Tommy, and Nikki’s playing. The six foot, two-hundred fifty plus pound man turned to reveal a five foot seven, nineteen-year-old girl of just over one-hundred thirty-five pounds, and again the crowd laughed, only this time they were laughing at Wren. The man disregarded Wren with a roll of his eyes and then used both of his hands to give Vince the bird before he spat on what appeared to be brand new, white leather pants. Wren could see the fire forming in Vince’s eyes and quickly remembered what she told them, some dick in the first row with an attitude can’t be the person who makes or breaks this.

Without even giving Vince the opportunity to process what had happened, Wren stepped in front of the man, positioning herself between Vince and the proclaimed dick in the first row with an attitude, and spat back, making sure to hit him where his wife-beater exposed his chest in hopes that it would smear into his beard.

“You bitch!” the man screamed as he lunged toward Wren with fury in his eyes and his arms reaching for her hands. Quickly, Vince grabbed her by the shirt and pulled her backwards while simultaneously jumping off the stage and throwing a punch to her attacker’s jaw. The man seemed to absorb the impact before he quickly threw a jab into Vince’s teeth that sent the blonde flying backwards and landing just short of the stage, beside Wren.

“Thanks,” she huffed as she stared at the blood that fell from Vince’s busted lip.

“Don’t mention it,” Vince responded as he spat the blood trailing from his mouth onto the floor before shoving Wren closer to the ground upon catching a blurred glimpse of white and red. 

Wren looked over Vince’s shoulder to see Nikki swinging his bass violently over his shoulder until it connected with the side of the burly man’s head. Before anyone knew it, Vince and Nikki were throwing punches with a few of the asshole’s friends, Tommy had launched himself from the stage to take down a couple of people who had gone after Nikki, and even Mick had delivered a hard hitting blow to someone trying to charge him as he helped Wren up onto the stage. Wren and Mick watched as the crowd folded away from the fight and bouncers began to gain control over the men who Nikki and Vince were fending off. As the singer and bassist stood off stage, in front of everyone while their drummer straddled and pummeled the guy who had initiated the brawl, they scanned the crowd, searching for a sign of whether or not they’d fucked up their shot of making it on the Strip. Once he’d had enough of the horrified faces meeting his, Nikki re-scanned the crowd in search of Wren. He knew she could get herself into trouble, and it was obvious Tommy was otherwise busy beating up the man who went after her for defending Vince. After last night, he understood her hesitancy towards strangers, her aversion to open spaces, and her displeasure of being touched despite her not saying a word after jabbing her finger into his chest.

Noticing Nikki’s concern, Mick nudged Nikki in the back with his shoe and jutted his head toward where Wren stood behind the curtains off the side of the stage. Bouncers had succeeded in restraining Tommy, throwing him to Vince and Nikki to control, and then tossing the trouble makers outside, but the club lingered in a heavy silence. It felt as if the world had taken in a deep breath and was holding it while everyone else waited for the exhale to breathe again.

“Fuck yeah!” a guy in blue jeans and a red and while baseball t-shirt holding a cigarette screamed. “Mötley Crüe!” Slowly, people began to join in on the whoops and cheers; slowly, the boys realized they hadn’t blown it. Tommy punched Vince’s shoulder before he leapt back on stage and held up his hand to Wren for a crisp high-five which then turned into a bro-hug.

“I’m still pissed at you,” he said through a smile, unable to hide his excitement.

“Just get out there and fuck the audience in the face,” she responded as she rolled her eyes at her best friend as she mimicked the tone he used to justify his suggested band name many nights ago, and then faded back behind the curtain.

Following Tommy’s lead, Nikki and Vince also made their way back to their place on stage, one slinging his guitar strap over his shoulder and the other gripping onto the microphone. As Tommy entered strong on his snare, Nikki and Vince’s eyes met; excitement, adrenaline, and power seemed to electrify the band and with one fluid movement, the pair clasped hands in solidarity. It was the first time those two had ever shared any sort of moment other than light animosity toward one another due to, at first, Vince’s intimidation of Wren, then Lovey’s persistently bad attitude. As soon as their hands left one another’s grasp, the band dove into ‘Take Me To The Top’, and the crowd roared into a rejuvenated life powered entirely by Tommy, Mick, Nikki, and Vince.

Wren was not only impressed by the passion of the crowd, but by their stamina too. Nikki had prepared an eleven song set for tonight, and although parts of the crowd did seem a bit tired after some of the songs, Nikki did a great job of spacing out the slower songs throughout the set. Some of Wren’s favorites made the cut for tonight including ‘On With the Show,’ ‘Piece of Your Action’, and ‘Merry Go Round,’ but the band’s closing song was the one she was waiting for.

“Alright you guys,” Vince called out into the microphone, “We’ve got one more song for you tonight! If you like us and want to hear the same shit for the next two nights, come back and see us tomorrow night and the night after! This last song is a fun one. It kicked my ass for a bit at first, but thanks to one of our own, a miss Wren Ledden, I think we can rock it out for you tonight!” Vince’s interaction with the microphone was so smooth and effortless, as if the mic and its stand were extensions of Vince’s body, and it wasn’t until he turned his back to the audience and waved his hands to get Wren’s attention that she even noticed she’d been gazing out into the crowd, watching how he held the audience captive.

Vince subtly jutted his head toward Wren, but it wasn’t until Tommy pointed at her with his sticks and then made a line from her to the front of the stage that Wren understood what Vince was trying to get her to do. Mick offered her his hand as she climbed up a small step or two, Tommy smiled at his friend—happy in their attempted way to prove to her she was as included in the band as the rest of them—and Nikki nodded at her in admiration as she paced towards Vince. “Before we close out, why don’t you give it up for Wren! Mötley Crüe’s very own Live Wire!” Vince screamed into the mic, the crowd roared with anticipation of the song and blindly celebrated whatever Vince had said, and Mick and Nikki dove head first, full force into what had to have been their heaviest performances of ‘Live Wire’ to date.

Wren hesitated as she stood awkwardly on stage in her workout clothes surrounded by thigh-high leather boot wearing boys with heels high enough to allow Vince and Mick illusion of being taller than her. With a small wave, she tried to take a step back and fade behind the curtain, but Vince reached out for her hand, missed his entrance to the song, and called into the mic, “I think for the right incentive, Wren may share the stage!” Her eyes widened and her stomach fell to the ground as she listened not only to Vince’s words echoing through the club, but also to the wave of screams the cheered.

What were they cheering for? Mötley Crüe…it had to be because of the hype and hard-driving song. Another measure passed and the crowd grew louder. Surely they’re not cheering for me, she thought as her eyes turned to seek the guidance of the rest of the band. Tommy was giddy with glee, Mick was reassuring as he gave a curt nod in her direction, Vince was pumping his fist in the air to get the crowd to cheer louder, and Nikki’s voice left his body in a shout, yet traveled through the air and into Wren’s ears like a whisper over the now doubly long musical intro. “You’ve got this!” With the band’s encouragement, Wren held up her hands in defeat and Vince jumped into the song at the next measure.

She wasn’t the band’s singer, she wasn’t anyone’s girlfriend, she wasn’t a groupie, she was Wren fucking Ledden and she was a part of Mötley Crüe. The power of the band, the thrill of the audience, the electricity coursing through her veins was something she knew she would never get used to, which is why she would never do this again, but for tonight—for Mötley’s first show—it was perfect.

Continued Reading: Next Chapter

[etching-bones-moved]

Wattpad // Fictionpress // 22:39 tag // Other writing

Episode three: I

The switchblade arced upwards and then round. Faster than she could register, Carthy moved.

She stepped forward into the circle of his attack, and the knife soared well beyond her. Grabbing the forearm extended by her side, Carthy gave his entire arm a sharp twist. He grunted, torso tipping forwards towards the pain yanking from his elbow- Carthy pivoted on her the balls of her feet, completed a half-spin and drove her elbow into his throat. Like clockwork, he jerked back, then screamed as this caused the strain in his left arm to escalate rapidly- stumbled forward. Placing her right hand on his shoulder for support, Carthy brought her knee crashing between his legs.

Down, he dropped, knife tumbling from his grip. Carthy kicked it aside, held his head from behind, and kneed him in the face. Once, twice, three times. She dropped him, he reared back snarling, blood dribbling down his chin. Cap-man and ginger had dashed off on first impact; Carthy gave him 5 seconds before he lost his nerve.

5 to go, he yelled something, incoherent, spitting. Carthy’s ears split from the noise. 4 left now and nobody answered him, joined him, supported him. He turned behind and saw that he was alone. Shifted on his feet like a cornered rat. 3, and his fists twitched upwards, downwards, from side to side. Carthy knew, lived, had breathed that sequence- he wanted to punch out, wanted to make hallowed connection between knuckle and cheekbone- 2 seconds, all emotions dropped from his face, 1 second-

He ran.

Just as well, Carthy thought distantly, heart racing. If they’d come to blows again, she might have wound up killing him.

The night was cool, her skin was boiling, her temper was warmer still. For a moment all she could do was stand there, lungs greedy for oxygen and mind clawing at her surroundings in an attempt to stop spinning.

Then she turned. Viridity knelt before her, pupils dilated, face streaked with tears, lip split. She didn’t quite look as if she were breathing, or that she remembered how to.

“Viridity?” Carthy asked lowly, inching closer, “It’s me, Carthy. Can you tell me where you’re hurt?”

“I’m fine.” she mumbled, staring numbly at her fingers, “I’m just- fuck, that was- You just saved my life. Jesus Christ. Bloody hell. Okay. Okay.”

Gradually, jaw set with strange determination, Viridity collected her canvases and rose to her feet. She’s shocked, Carthy recognised, seeing how jerky her movements were, how her gaze stalled and then shot from one place to another. She stood blank and shaking, like a terror-struck doll.

“We should call the police.” she said, motionless, breath quieter than a breeze. Carthy got the distinct impression that she was talking more to herself than anyone else.

“Give me your phone, I’ll make the call.” Carthy said, easing closer, “You’re in shock right now, Vir. Let me handle this.”

“Okay. Jesus.” Viridity whispered, swaying slightly on her feet. Carthy steadied her shoulders, waited, wrapped a supporting arm round her waist when Viridity’s only reaction was to rest her head against neck.

“Is this okay?” Carthy checked, shifting slightly so she was bearing more of Viridity’s weight.

“’S fine. Feels familiar.” she mumbled, handing over her phone, “You’re wearing a dress?”

“Uh- yes?”

“Looks good.” Viridity said dazedly, breaths fluttering at her throat, “This is even more dumb than the last time. Are you always gonna be looking out for me?”

I’m fleeing from this city, and you, as soon as it’s convenient.

“Long as I can, Vir,” Carthy said instead, dialling 999, “Stay with me now.”

The operator chimed in. Viridity went very quiet, the wet of her tears at Carthy’s skin, and skating beneath her dress. Carthy closed her eyes, clinging to the frigid sensation, struggling to keep up with the operator’s questions. It had already been a long night. The wind blew gentle, lulling, almost warm, and Carthy wanted to sleep.

The paramedics came first, bundling Viridity in a shock blanket after checking her for obvious injuries. She knew her name, the date, where she’d been all evening, her pupils were of equal size and both contracted when exposed to light. Her vitals were strong, her bruising minimal, the only true cause for worry was her ribs. That could wait, they said, they promised to Carthy’s unspoken demands. She’ll be fine for a few hours.

Second was the police, insistent that they came to the station. Vir seemed hesitant to leave Carthy’s side, so she stayed with her: through her statement, drawn with voice wavering and distracted repetition, then through Carthy’s, short and sparse in detail. She told them about Fisher’s park, how she’d been worried her neighbour had stayed out in the snow again, and they accepted it without skipping a beat.

Exceptionally lucky¸ they told Vir, and Carthy near throttled them for it. You were exceptionally lucky to get off as lightly as you did.

Viridity left her details, Carthy begged off. When Viridity disappeared into the bathroom, Carthy caught the attention of a young, fresh-faced officer. Biting her lip and lowering her voice, she told them she had PTSD. Please don’t let this get out, she implored, please don’t tell anyone about me. I just want a quiet life. I’m not a hero. News coverage would be awful, really. Keep this on the down-low.

The hospital came next, with the usual, agonisingly long wait times. Viridity kept dozing off and falling from her chair, so eventually Carthy took her into her arms. Sleep here, she said, guiding Viridity’s purple head to the crook of her elbow. I’ll hold you, don’t worry about it. Just sleep.

They made an odd pair. There was Carthy, dress on and earrings still dangling, eyelids smudged with smoke and lips dark. And then there was Viridity, a paint smeared youth clad in ripped jeans, a crop top, and that damning bomber jacket. No wonder her attackers had known that she was gay. No wonder the nurses assumed they were dating, and brought Carthy with Viridity when they were finally able to be seen.

Fractured ribs, was what it amounted to. Fractured ribs, time advised off college, and a whole lot of trauma.

They took the taxi back.

“Thank you.” Viridity said quietly, staring out the window. The time was 4:11, the season winter. It wouldn’t be light for hours.

“For helping me. For sticking around afterwards. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I’d be an asshole not to.” Carthy said, watching her, “Really. Don’t worry about it.”

In the intermittent bursts of streetlight, she could see that Viridity’s face was beginning to bruise in earnest, and that the cut on her lip likely wouldn’t scar.

“You saved my life.” said Viridity, just as she had hours earlier. Disbelieving, mildly nauseous. Carthy suspected coming down from the alcohol wasn’t helping.

“It wasn’t my fault this time, was it? I know I should have been home sooner. I know it’s a bad idea to walk home drunk. But those assholes… I don’t know. Maybe it was my fault.”

“No, Vir.” Carthy said. To Viridity’s sudden, searching look, she raised a corner of her lip. Small smile, grim smile. Viridity’s big blue eyes were overwhelmingly sad.

“Definitely not your fault.”

“But if I’d just been more careful-”

She broke off, apparently seized with frustration.

“Being vulnerable isn’t an invitation to getting beat up. Or it shouldn’t be, to anyone decent. You’re not in the wrong here, Vir.”

She sighed, exhalation soft. Rustling. Like velvet.

“You stayed up for me.” she said, eyes ahead, “Why?”

Carthy opened her mouth, closed it. Ryan had completely flown from her mind.

“There was something I wanted to talk to you about. You weren’t in, so I waited. It got late, I got worried.”

“Talk to me about what?”

Carthy shook her head once more, rubbing at her eyes.

“Tell me tomorrow? Along with that drunk story?”

Carthy cast a long-suffering look to the ceiling.

“You’ve got a good memory.” she commented dryly, and Viridity did, at last, smile.

“Where it counts.”

A few moments slipped by in a beat of rain, windscreen wipers and the quiet drone of the radio. The engine of the taxi hummed beneath Carthy’s fingertips.

“I can stay the night, if you like.” Carthy offered at last, staring out of the window, “If you want company. Or moral support. I know I wouldn’t feel safe on my own, if it had happened to me.”

Viridity’s shoulders rose, fell, rose again. Deep breaths, composure slipping, suggested the quiet voice always assessing in Carthy’s mind. She thought she might be crying.

This is beyond casual, said one half of Carthy’s mind. Shut up, said the other.

“I’d like that.” was all Viridity said, as her fingers curled and shoulders shifted towards her knees, “Thank you.”

Carthy murmured her response. The rest of the journey passed in a drowsy hush.

[ohmytheon]

Rebelcaptain - Jedi Knights AU (bonus points if at the end of ROTS and Order 66)

I rewatched the Order 66 scene so I could get a feel for this and wow okay my hormones are in a swing because somehow a three minute clip from ROTS that didn’t involve Obi-Wan made me cry. Yoda’s pain via the Force GOT ME. It reminded me of Leia’s in TFA. Also, this got way out of my hands, but the next ones will be drabble size again, I swear.

give me a pairing and an au and i’ll write a drabble

Out of the two of them, Cassian was the wary one, always looking for the first sign of trouble, but it was Jyn that felt it first. She was split up from him this time, something that she probably shouldn’t be prone to doing since she was still very new to being a Jedi Master, but she had wanted to do a perimeter check. Besides, it wasn’t like she was alone. She had two trusted Clone soldiers with her, Looper and Green, men she had worked alongside on multiple missions.

Her boots thumped with every step on the platform, but when she neared the edge, the only sound she could hear was the wind. Nothing. Still, an easy feeling in her gut kept stirring, even larger now that her suspicions had been unconfirmed, and she reached up to grasp the kyber crystal her mother had given her before Jyn had been taken to become a Padawan. The crystal could’ve been put to much better use, as she had one now in the lightsaber she carried, but it was an old relic of her past that she refused to give up despite the Council’s wishes.

It reminded her that even Jedi were fallible – that even those who were considered not Force sensitive enough, not strong enough, to be considered for Jedi training could overcome everything. She had hid the kyber necklace for so long until Cassian found it. He had not berated her for it at least. The memory of the soft look in his eyes when he had tucked it back under the neckline of her shirt had to kept just as much of a secret as the crystal itself.

Closing her eyes, Jyn took a deep breath and focused on both the Force and the crystal until she could sense everything around her. She could feel the Clones behind her waiting for the next order and then, probing further, Cassian back inside. She thought he was looking out the window, trying to see her through the snow, and then she tangled with him as well. He was trying to sense her too. It made her smile faintly. Always wary, that one. Was he ever not restless?

Something sharp in the Force hit her, not unlike a blaster, and Jyn’s eyes snapped open as she felt something ripped away from her. No, it had been a blaster, but she hadn’t been the one hit. Who? Cassian? She struggled to find him again, but everything was a mess now. The Force felt like it was…like it was being ripped apart thread-by-thread. She gasped.

If her eyes had still been closed, she wouldn’t have noticed the sudden change in stance of the clones behind her, but out of the corner of her eyes she saw Looper raise his blaster towards her and she reacted quickly. The lightsaber was ready and in her hands in a second and she slashed it forward, slicing the blaster in half and rendering it useless.

“What are you–?” But there was no time to demand answers, not when she had to deflect a blaster shot from Green. She didn’t want to hurt them, much less kill them – she had worked with them so many times, joked with them, laughed with them, ate with them – but they left her no choice as they ruthlessly tried to attack her.

Jyn cut them down with ease, but her heart ached. They had only been clones, yes, but they had been her friends. Why had they suddenly turned against her?

And then another thought: Cassian. If Looper and Green had tried to kill her, what about all the other clones back inside? This was supposed to be a comfortable safe house for diplomats, but she suddenly pictured a blood house instead and her fears betrayed her. She had been taught to dampen those fears and put them away – passion led to dark paths, they were told – but she could not burn them to ashes so easily, not anymore.

Jyn raced back inside and all but burst through the door. She knew exactly where Cassian was and the quickest way to reach him. It would be dangerous, filled with possibly turned clones, but she had always had a habit of coming in hot and doing things straight on. She had to reach him; she had to get to him before it was too late. Otherwise, what was the point? Where would be the hope that all of this would end?

After reaching the hall that would lead her to him, her heart leapt into her throat as she skidded to a halt. There were at least ten clones blasting at the door to the main quarters until a hole large enough for them to climb through was made. Inside was Cassian, doing his best to block each blaster shot while anyone else with him tried to stay out of sight. Any other person might’ve tried to find a different way. Not Jyn. She ran straight ahead, her lightsaber cutting through the clones before they even realized she’d come upon them.

Ten against one was still a battle and she couldn’t cover all angles, so when a blaster hit her in the back of the shoulder, she yelped as she was thrown into a wall. Before she could be taken out, however, the familiar glow of a lightsaber stabbed through the middle of the clone and he collapsed dead to the ground.

“Come!” Cassian shouted breathlessly, holding out a hand. Jyn took it without thinking and allowed him to pull her through the hallways. She had no idea where he was going, but she didn’t ask questions.

“The diplomats?” Jyn asked the moment they paused.

Cassian peered around the corner. The hangar door was right in front of them, guarded by turned clones. If they had any hope of fleeing, it was in there with their ship, which was the closest thing to home that Jyn could imagine. What if it had been sabotaged in case they made it this far? No, no, the clones had turned so suddenly. They couldn’t have planned that ahead. She and Cassian shouldn’t be alive right now.

Taking a breath, Cassian pulled back and leaned against the wall. He had let go of her hand, but she yearned for him to take it again. It was a terrible thing to want, but so very human. Jedi were not so far removed, were they? "Safe, as long as we keep our distance from them. The clones only seem focused on Jedi.“

"How is that possible?” Jyn hissed furiously. She thought of the times that she had gone to the shooting range to help Green out and now he was lying dead on the platform at her hands, his body slowly getting covered with snow.

“I do not know,” Cassian replied grimly, “but they are very determined.”

Jyn went silent. They needed to get on that ship. Who knew how many clones were in the hangar. The suddenly very real fear that she would die struck her. She was not afraid of death itself. As a Jedi, she would be come one with the Force; she would live on through it. But then she looked at Cassian – the tightly-coiled tension in his body, his fingers flexing on the handle of his lightsaber, the scruff on his jaw and cheeks that he’d forgotten to shave, the sharp look in his eyes that saw everything – and she was afraid of something.

Fear led to a dark path that she could not go down, but it also felt unwise to dismiss it outright. Then again, a few on the Jedi Council might argue that Jyn had a habit of doing a lot of unwise things. She wondered if any of them were still alive to tell her that.

There was no time to question it further. Cassian touched the inside of her wrist and then they were off, battling their way into the hanger and towards their ship. A spark of relief lit inside of her when she saw it, but then she was ducking and sliding and twisting around as she deflected blaster shot after shot. She and Cassian were able to work together, protecting the other’s back while guarding their own front.

It did not make them invincible. A blaster grazed her side, sucking the wind out of her, and one caught Cassian right above the knee, knocking him down. He was almost cut down, except Jyn threw out a hand at the last second blindly and shouted, “Cassian!” The clone was blown off his feet by the Force, crashing into three others, and gave them an opening. Jyn went to help him up, leaving him to cringe, but she cut him off before he could even protest, “I’m not leaving you.”

She half-carried, half-dragged him into the ship, unceremoniously dropping him so that she could deflect another blaster shot and hit the button to close the ship’s door. By the time she turned around, Cassian was already in the pilot’s chair, activating the ship. She listened to it come to life, humming under her feet, whirring around her, but her heart was beating almost just as loudly. Blaster shots kept hitting the ship until Cassian was able to return fire, nearly blowing up half the hanger with his superior firepower.

“I thought that was my move,” Jyn mumbled as she stood behind him to assess the damage. Most of the clones that had been left were now either unmoving or struggling to get up. Cassian’s knuckles were white and his face determined as he guided the ship up and then out of the hanger as quickly as possible. It would not be long before other ships were sent after them, so they needed to get out of here as fast as possible.

She had no idea where they would go (where in the galaxy would be safe for a Jedi that was now being hunted like a dog?), but she trusted Cassian. He was an excellent and natural pilot alongside being one of the most capable Jedi Knights. Instead, she closed her eyes, grasping the kyber crystal again and listening to him activate the hyperdrive, and willed everything into the Force. It would not betray her. Cassian would not betray her. As long as she had them, she would be fine, she told herself. The ship rocked as they made the jump, but she barely swayed on her feet despite holding onto nothing.

Only when she felt a hand wrapping over her own holding the crystal did Jyn open her eyes and she found Cassian staring down at her solemnly. It had been a very long time since she had felt alone, especially after crossing paths with him, but here on this ship, drifting somewhere in the blackness of space, she felt very much alone. The Force was silent, frayed, and distant. She could feel the emptiness that had once been occupied by so many others.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Cassian whispered, even though they were safe for now and completely alone.

Jyn felt adrift, like the ship, completely untethered. The emptiness was as vast as space. “They’re gone.” Her voice was hollow. She didn’t know what she was saying, except that she did. A few lights reminded, blips on the outskirt of her radar, but she could barely sense them. Some winked out so suddenly that her knees buckled. She would’ve collapsed had Cassian not caught her. She clung to him and he let her, maybe needing it as well. “Gone.”

Cassian slowly gathered her back to her feet, but he did not push away, not like he should have. Jedi were not to gain attachments, at least not close ones. Some had been wary of the two of them partnering, but most of the higher-ups on the Jedi Council had believed that Cassian’s unwavering belief in the Force and the way of the Jedi would eventually smooth out Jyn’s edges. They had not counted on the two of them fitting together.

He held her against him, one arm wrapped around her securely as he smoothed down her hair with his other hand. She breathed in his familiar scent as she tried to regain her balance, but there was so much gone, like the rug had been pulled out from underneath her feet. Her mother had not been Force sensitive enough to become a Jedi, but Jyn, her daughter, sometimes felt like she was too sensitive.

“Where will be go?” Jyn asked quietly.

“Somewhere we can hide,” Cassian told her. “We must gather information and regroup before we can do anything.”

Jyn scoffed lightly, but she didn’t pull away. “I hate hiding. It feels so… helpless." She bit her lip and moved her head to lift her gaze to him. He moved his hand from the back of her head to her shoulder. "We’re on the run. Did you ever think that would happen?”

His lips quirked into a faint but pained smile. “Not entirely like this.”

Not know what to do with his answer, Jyn looked away and out the front of the ship. Her eyes caught sight of the stars, all of them distant but so dark. She used to think that stars could never die, back when she was a child, before she had been taken away from her family. “How many do you think are left?”

“I don’t know.” Cassian sighed, the smile gone so quickly it was like it was never there. He released her from his grip, but he didn’t leave her. “Not many.” He glanced down at her the same time she looked back up at him. “But you’re here. When the clones turned, I didn’t know what to do. I shut the doors, trying to protect the diplomats, but then realized I’d locked you out there with them. I was…”

He was afraid. Cassian was not as quick to admit his emotions as readily as Jyn was. Before her, he had been an excellent Jedi, a proper example. Perhaps she had ruined him. He never seemed to regret joining her though. She could feel his confidence in her thrumming through him, strong as ever, and it comforted her. At least he was here. She looked back out at the stars. But for how long would they be able to run and hide before their stars were too snuffed out? The answers were just as distant. Her heart began to burn like a supernova. Whatever had happened, she would fight until her last breath.

[georgeinmalawi]

Adapting to Life

30 January 2017

I’m again on the bus to Lilongwe. I paid for the AXA Executive Coach, which is non-stop and has snacks and a bathroom. It is always totally full, crammed with people into tiny, distinctively not executive seats. I missed it, thinking it left at 7:30AM. It left at 7 so I’m on the local, which gets in an hour later but is only half full. I have the entire rear seat to myself; if I were tired, I could stretch out and snooze. I’m not, so I can spread out my stuff and write, knowing I am probably in the safest seat in the unlikely possibility of a crash. (That sounds a bit like the Carlsberg beer slogan, “Probably the best beer in the world.”  Not totally convincing.)  Unless the engine explodes underneath me, in which case I shall take the little red hammer from its hanger and exit a window promptly.  The very back of the bus exaggerates the bumps in the road, however, and I often type gibberish or grab my laptop before it sails off onto the floor

Yesterday we rented a car and drove to Mulanje. Linda’s very long-time friends, Pat and Stacy, are here from Santa Fe for 3 weeks. Pat’s a gastroenterologist and will teach at Queens; Stacy’s a retired attorney who will help with fundraising at Samaritans, the orphanage where I consult. We drove to the massif and partway around it on a dirt road, heading toward a forest lodge for lunch. On the way we passed through a small village and were approached by all manner of young men trying to sell us hiking sticks carved from Mulanje cedar, wanting to guard our car, and asking us to hire one of them as a guide to hike to the well-known nearby waterfall. I heard, “George” and looked up to see Lucius, who was a guard at a home on our street last Fall, fired for being drunk at work. (If I were a guard, making next to nothing to do next to nothing, I’m sre I’d drink, too.)  Needless to say, we bought the hiking sticks and hired both Lucius as guide and his friend, Alex, as guard. The hike to the waterfall was gradual, took about an hour, and the destination was very lovely, with a deep pool for swimming. We waded, not having bathing suits. On the path I spoke with Lucius about his life. He grew up in this tiny village at the foot of Mulanje. When he was in 10th grade, three years ago, both parents were travelling to Blantyre in a minibus that collided head-on with a truck. 15 dead, including his mother and father. He had to drop out of school to support the family. His two sisters are in school and he plans to return when they finish. There is a rueful sadness in his face as he tells me his story. It is like so many here, totally unfair and tragic. Only an extreme and heroic effort on his part, tempered with plenty of luck, will allow him to move beyond scratching for his subsistence for the remainder of his days, and he’s not yet 20yo.

I saw a 10 yo girl, Tokozina, as my last child patient for the day on Thursday. It was our second visit and promised to be lively. She’s had cerebral malaria and is the most hyperactive child I’ve ever seen. She is only moderately learning disabled, I think.  On the first visit she bounced all over the room, running like a flash, grabbing and tossing things, singing loudly while her mother ineffectually tried to contain her by reaching out as she flew by, etc. This mother is built like a tank and could give Mike Tyson a run for his money. On Thursday I told her they could only come into the room if she held her daughter on her lap. Well, that lasted about 15 seconds as the girl squirmed away and bounced all over doing her mischief. Seeing how ineffectual the mother was, I decided to model a safe, painless restraint. Needless to say, I ended up lying on the floor restraining her while she spit in my face and then urinated on me. I held fast and she calmed. Then I gave her to her mother who did the same and, after some tears, the girl accepted the inevitable and fell asleep in her mother’s arms. After wiping off the spit with my handkerchief and letting the pee dry on my soaking pants, I congratulated the mother on her success and impressed upon her the importance of training her daughter by performing a similar restraint whenever she was beyond the control of words. We’ll meet again in 2 weeks and assess the results. It felt like a very successful intervention. I, of course, will need to explore with the mother why she has held herself back so much. 

A 12 yo boy was brought in by his mother. He’d undergone a “personality change” since being attacked by a neighbor in their village. Andrew ate a peach from the man’s tree so he threw Andrew to the ground and stomped on him, fracturing his left tibia. Andrew, always a gentle boy, has become aggressive, beating up his friends. He was expelled from school for fighting, despite being very smart and an excellent student. Another boy, like Japheti, with a persistent and loving mother who is determined to help repair the damage to her son. He was seen in Peds Emergency and, since he had a personality change in this land of cerebral malaria, HIV encephalopathy, and various forms of meningitis, instead of taking a careful history he has had performed all variety of laboratory investigations, including a lumbar puncture. Again, some training is needed there, which we’ll do soon. His response to the beating includes “identification with the aggressor”, his adaptation to feeling helpless in the face of a threat. It is the particular form his PTSD has taken.  He and I had a good talk, he was very engaged, and he agreed to return to school and attempt to not fight when he was upset. We’ll see. He is very bright, speaks English well, and is an incredible artist. 

I’m going to Lilongwe in order to use the notary services at the American Embassy to finalize papers for the sale of 2840 Webster Street in Berkeley, our home for 25+ years. That should be the last formal exchange between my ex and myself, which will be a relief to us both, I suspect. I’ve felt I was in the grip of a python during the divorce---each time I exhaled (made a settlement offer leaning in her favor), the coils tightened. Rather than becoming more flexible and fair, she’d demand more. I’m certain she has her own version of the process.  So, as sad as it is to me to have not been able to grow in our love for each other as time passed, there is a time to hold ‘em and a time to fold ‘em. I only can hope that my children, each of whom I love dearly, can accept their disappointment at the end of the family as they knew it and wanted it to be and can view each of us as individuals with flaws and foibles but basically having given our best for them. I miss them both very much. 

These are the hungry months in Malawi, when the maize is growing tall but not ready for harvest and last year’s supply of corn meal is exhausted. Many of the 85% of the population that are small-hold farmers and their families are lucky to have a single, modest meal a day. It kills me to see the greed and waste in America and to hear the “America Firsters”. It is a sad fact that we, of all the animal species, appear to have an insatiable desire to buy and possess. It is powerfully fed by the advertising/marketing industry and the mythology of our lives -----that it is better, somehow, to have more and bigger and newer and more extravagant stuff. Rather than to have enough for reasonable comfort and to take pleasure in the greater good that everyone has the basics. It is so easy to see someone on Welfare as a “loafer” and “getting a free ride”----I think they are sad, have low self-esteem, and have lacked the good fortune, perhaps the gumption, and the skills to do work that will bring them satisfaction.  Let’s re-establish the WPA and employ the unemployed while they learn skills and repair our infrastructure. But then, I have never wanted to not work. 

I’ve had thoughts of spending the summers on the island in Maine and the rest of the year travelling, writing, and schmoozing with friends. I understand that most people haven’t had the good fortune to have trained for, sought, found, and performed work that they truly love and which remunerates them reasonably. This is often for lack of opportunity but may have multiple and converging reasons, including their drive, intelligence, health, capacity to persist, lack of skill, market forces, and so forth. So people cannot wait “to retire”, understandably. For me, I find learning and being inspired by people’s struggles irresistible, so it doesn’t feel like the time to fold up my tent. 

I find Mr. Trump’s lies and hatred---just look at the expression on his current wife’s face after he reads her out in the 8 second video on YouTube---frightening, since he sits now where he does. We’re not just in for a fire sale of America to the superrich. That has been going on for the past several decades. We are now rapidly heading toward a fascist state, seeking total control of media with an essentially slave underclass that will include most of us. It seems there may be a violent revolution, given how polarizing, aggressive, and dissimulating Mr.T. is. One can hope for a coronary event or a cerebrovascular event or perhaps a metastatic event (in response to his near-constant exposure to Agent Orange!). I’m not savvy enough about economics to fully understand how we’ve arrived here. Our industrial output is up but well-paying, secure jobs are down, partly due to outsourcing but hugely due to automation. Paradoxically, I suspect that many of the same people who have been left behind in our economy shop at Walmart, buying those inexpensive outsourced products made by people in China and Bangladesh who have taken their jobs, keeping those sweatshops going.  The latter have certainly been eased into slavery, out of personal desperation. Just read about their wages, their working and living conditions, their polluted air and water, and the fragmentation of their families and their society, if you doubt me. 

This post has gone on too long. I am passing through emerald hills, dotted with thatched mud-brick huts, all covered by the fluffiest, most towering cumulus clouds imaginable. Even all the plastic trash has vanished from the roadside, hidden by the tall grass. It is stunning. 

Early in the morning one day last week as I biked past the local open market on my way to Queens, I saw  the stall keepers arriving with their vegetables or used clothing as they do each day, often 7 days/week. I realized, at a new level, this is their life.   They may instead sit at a card table and sell lollipops or AirTel phone top-ups, but they have no hope of a better living or life than they have right now. No kids in college, no promotion in the works, no end-of-year bonus, no cashing in on the sale of a start-up, no job or food security, no minimum hourly wage, let alone no luxury items, no increased reimbursement from a health insurance company, and so forth. And this is largely because of the cards they were dealt. Most are smart but have little schooling. Yet they are cheerful, laugh, and are pleased when I say a phrase or two in Chichewa to them as I buy some bananas or a pineapple. Humans are amazingly adaptable. 

I hope our country doesn’t adapt to what our president offers to us, or tries for force upon us.

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