#now I’m the cringe person my former self would be so angry at because I’m creating new gods out of nothing

[asatroende]

I think the best thing I ever did for my faith was stop caring about what other people cared about

I don’t understand the concept of closed religions

I’d rather die than get sucked back into witchblr

Godspousing? Kinning? UPG? In my house? Don’t think so

I’ve achieved the perfect level of vibe where discourse can’t touch me

[the-wild-wolves-around-you]

Carry Me Home (A Din Djarin/Reader Fic)

Summary: Din and Reader find themselves on a jungle planet hunting a bounty, but nothing goes as planned, and secrets are shared.

***Based off this line from a previous fic in this series: "Then the mysterious bounty hunter told you his name one day when you were trying to hold his femoral artery together with nothing but bacta gel and hope."

No spoilers. Set in Season 1 between Episode 6 (The Prisoner) & Episode 7 (The Reckoning)

Pairings: Din Djarin/Reader; Din Djarin/You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood, gore, & violence. Brief mentions of past slavery. 

A/N: In true Star Wars fashion, I'm just writing shit out of order lol. But the idea for this fic kept bugging me, so i just had to get it out on the page. 

You don't need to read the previous fics to understand this one, though (since the others are set in s2.) I have some more ideas for out of order stories, too, so I'll most likely be continuing this series.But let me know if you'd be interested in a fic from Din's POV! I think that could be fun, but if y'all are digging Reader POV, I'll stick to that.

And in case anyone cares, the title is taken from the lyrics of Arcade by Duncan Lawrence, which I was listening to on repeat as I wrote this. 

As always, I’ve posted this piece on Ao3, but I’ll paste the text below. 

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28763814

I’ll also include the links to the other two fics here: 

The Sea Like Glass Ch 1: Here

The Sea Like Glass Ch 2 (includes smut): Here

“Dank farrik!” you hissed as the wire in front of you sparked and sent a jolt of electricity through your already singed fingers. Not for the first time, you wished you could wear your gloves, but some of the pieces that needed repairing were too small to feel through the bulky material, so you could do nothing more than sacrifice your flesh for the cause.

Didn’t make it hurt less, though. You sucked the smarting tips into your mouth, glaring at the trashed circuit board in front of you, but the ruined hardware only crackled in response.

If you were back in Hanger 3-5 in Mos Eisley, you would have probably trashed the whole part and dug through Peli’s stock for a replacement, or gone down to the market and haggled for something newer, but you weren’t on Tatooine. You were smack dab in the middle of a jungle planetoid you couldn’t remember the name of, and it was up to you to get the Razor Crest running again on what you had available.

Which, admittedly, wasn’t a lot.

You sighed as you sat back on your haunches, using the back of your wrist to swipe at the sweat trailing down your temple. The pre-Empire ship towered over you as you dug into her innards, having pried off one of the semi-melted lower side panels to access the appropriate circuits. Your thin tank top was already drenched, and the hair sticking to the back of your neck kept giving you phantom itches. You wanted nothing more than to tie it up completely, but you always felt naked when your nape was exposed. You weren’t necessarily ashamed of the scar there, or the past connected to it, since it wasn’t your fault you were born into shackles, but… still. It was a… personal story to tell, and you weren’t sure you were ready to share it with your new boss.

Well, “new” was relative. You’d been employed on the Razor Crest for several months now, but you didn’t know much more about the Mandalorian than you did when you’d first set foot onto his ship. You knew he was a bounty hunter, from a race of legendary warriors. You knew he had a partially sordid, and dangerous, past if your encounter with Ran and his crew of mercenaries was any indication. You knew the green baby was his ward, or foundling as he called it, and Mando was tasked with returning the little guy to his people. And you knew his Creed forbid him from removing his helmet.

That was about it. The Mandalorian didn’t talk much, but it didn’t particularly bother you. You’d always been a quieter person, and after years of Peli’s constant chattering, you were kind of relieved for the silence.

Most of the time, anyway.

“How’s it looking?”

You gasped in alarm, jolting yourself off balance and falling back onto your ass in the dirt.

“Maker, Mando,” you panted as you craned your neck back to stare up at the bounty hunter. “What have I told you about sneaking up on me when I’m working on electrics?”

The impervious mask of the Mandalorian stared down at you silently, blotting out the sweltering sun and providing you a modicum of relief. A moment passed, then two, and you shifted uneasily under his unblinking gaze.

“I thought you heard me approach,” he said finally, his modulated voice flat and unaffected, but he didn’t move from where he was looming over you.

“Well, I didn’t,” you grumbled as you flopped your head forward and popped your neck, stretching your legs out in the dirt.

The tight leggings you wore ended not too far past your knees, so your shins were streaked with the red soil of this planetoid. The dirt didn’t bother you, but the heat sure did. It was different than Tatooine’s dry desert. This heat was oppressive, stifling, almost cloying, and every time you took a deep breath, a small part of your brain panicked, images of drowning flashing through your mind even though you knew it was irrational. You were just grateful your clothes didn’t look a fraction as hot as the Mandalorian’s all black get-up and what had to be twenty-five kilos of armor.

“So,” the bounty hunter said after a few more moments of silence, interrupted only by the call of exotic birds in the canopy, “how are things looking?”

“Honestly?” you sighed as you pushed yourself off the ground, dusting the red dirt off your hands but not even bothering with your pants. “Not good. The bounty’s guns must have grazed us when we were still outside orbit, and entering the atmosphere certainly didn’t help matters. Some of the side paneling has been melted beyond repair, and a lot of the wiring is fried, too.”

“Can you get it flying?” Mando asked, crossing his arms over his chest and making his silhouette all the more imposing. The sun glinted off his silver beskar, and you squinted in the glare.

“Maybe.” You pursed your lips and averted your gaze, turning back to stare at the charred panels and sparking wires. Sweat trickled down your neck, and you reached back to cup your nape, feeling the bounty hunter’s eyes on you.

“Didn’t know I was paying you for maybes.”

“You’re not paying me at all if you can’t even catch that quarry,” you snorted before your brain could catch up to your mouth.

You froze when the words finally registered, nails digging into the back of your neck. Stupid. Your mouth always did get the better of you. You used to mouth-off to your former owner until he backhanded you into silence, and now you’re starting shit with a bounty hunter you’d seen kill half a dozen men in just as many seconds.

Stupid.

You waited for Mando to say something, staring at the Razor Crest without even seeing it, and even if you didn’t really believe he’d hurt you for a simple off-handed comment, your body didn’t get the message. Muscle memory was a hard thing to forget, and every fiber in you braced for the blow.

The birds chittered in the towering blue-green canopy above your head as sweat poured from every single one of your pores, and you were just about to come out of your skin when the Mandalorian finally spoke.

“Well, to catch the quarry, I need my ship to fly,” he said, and when you chanced a glance over your shoulder, you discovered he’d somehow moved further away from you, like he took several steps back.

Was he… giving you space?

His tone was still flat, but after several months spent in close proximity with the bounty hunter, you were now able to parse out several different minor inflections in his modulated voice. You were by no means an expert, but you knew for a fact he didn’t sound angry in this moment. When he was angry, his voice took on a softer, menacing quality. The few times you’d heard it—thankfully never directed at you—every hair on your body stood on end, and the lizard part of your brain had screamed to run and not stop running until you were in a completely different star system.

This wasn’t anger. This was… something else. You almost wanted to say… amusement, but that would have been crazy.

Still, the tension bled out of your shoulders like sand through a sieve, and you dropped your arms as you turned to face the Mandalorian fully again.

“Alright, this is the best I can do,” you said. “I can get her flying again, I think I can even get her shielded enough to withstand leaving the atmosphere when we’re done here, but it’s gonna take some time.”

“How much time?” he asked.

You glanced over your shoulder again at the damage, did some calculations in your head, and added some padding to give yourself a margin for error. Then you turned back to the bounty hunter.

“At least two days,” you replied, confident in your abilities. “Anything less, and we risk blowing ourselves to the Inner Core and back when I go to start her up.”

“Hmm.” Mando stared at you for a moment and then shifted to gaze into the jungle. “The bounty will most likely be off planet by then.”

“I don’t think so,” you contradicted him, and your heart actually skipped a beat when the T of his visor turned to look at you. There was something nerve-wracking about staring into the dark, reflective glass, but then you noticed your red-streaked appearance, and you cringed self-consciously as you looked away.

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

“Because,” you started, stooping down to pick up the tablet beside your tool bag, “when I first came out here and saw the damage, I was afraid we’d end up in this situation. But then I remembered that the quarry’s ship took more damage than we did in our little space battle. I know for a fact we landed at least one solid hit, I saw it myself.”

“And?”

“Well,” you said as you tapped at the screen, “given the make and model of his vessel, and the location of where we struck the ship, I was able to deduce that we most likely damaged his engines. If his engines are damaged, then there is a maximum distance he could have gone before he would have been forced to land, or even crash landed. With all this information, plus the fact that I knew the general location of where we lost visual of him when we entered the atmosphere, I’ve estimated the quarry can’t be farther than five klicks from our current coordinates. And with his entry trajectory, he’s most likely in this triangulated area three and a half klicks to the west, which should be easily reachable on foot.”

You turned the map on the tablet to face the Mandalorian, and he stepped forward to take the device from you. His gloved fingers brushed across your singed ones, remnant electricity shooting through your veins, and you stifled a flinch as you dropped your arm.

Mando studied the map for a long moment, cocking his head and zooming in to get a better look. You shifted uneasily in the silence, scuffing the tip of your boot into the red soil, but then the bounty hunter finally looked back up at you.

“When did you have time to do this?” he asked, and he actually sounded… impressed. “You were out here for less than ten minutes after we landed.”

“It wasn’t that hard.” You shrugged as your cheeks flushed with heat, but you blamed the sweltering sun overhead and the soup-like air.

“I didn’t realize you were so good with numbers,” he said, his helmet staring directly at you.

“Numbers are easy,” you replied, shrugging again as you raised your hand to chew nervously on your nails, but you stopped yourself when you saw the crimson dirt still caked on your skin. “They don’t lie, once you understand the rules.”

“Did Peli teach you how to do this?” he inquired, and you were surprised by all these questions. Most of the time, the bounty hunter asked you one-or-two-word questions and expected one-or-two-word answers. You couldn’t figure out why this situation was any different, but you found yourself responding anyway.

“Partially,” you explained, and you wondered how you could phrase your answer to be vague but satisfactory. “She… taught me a lot of the specifics for bigger jobs like ships and larger machines, but I’ve always been good at numbers and tinkering.”

That seemed good enough. You didn’t think it was relevant that you first started tinkering because your former owner used to lock you in his shop’s basement with broken droids when you misbehaved, and putting the discarded machines back together kept you from going crazy when your punishments lasted days. You also didn’t think it relevant that when your former owner found out and realized he could profit off your skills, you fine-tuned your abilities to become indispensable. The bastard still hit you occasionally, and his other slaves weren’t treated any better, but you had to admit, him locking you in the basement all those years had saved your life. If you hadn’t cultivated the skills you had, Peli wouldn’t have bought you at auction when the bastard bit the sand, and she wouldn’t have dug out your transmitter chip and effectively freed you the moment you walked into Hanger 3-5. The tiny woman had said she needed an apprentice, not a slave, and so that was what you became. Now, you were a mechanic in your own right, and a damn good one if you did say so yourself. Mando just didn’t need to know how you’d gotten there.

The bounty hunter seemed to think the same thing, too, because he nodded once before he looked back at the tablet.

“This is good work,” he said, and something in your chest preened at his words before you squashed it down. “If these calculations are correct—”

“They are,” you interjected before you could stop yourself.

“Then I think I can set out on foot, find the quarry, and bring him back tomorrow just as you’re finishing the repairs,” Mando went on, and he glanced up at you again. “Does that time frame sound right to you?”

“Maybe.” You shrugged. “Should work for me, but it could take you a little longer. I’m unfamiliar with this terrain, and there are too many other variables, like jungle beasts or indigenous species, for me to be sure.”

“The terrain won’t be a problem,” the Mandalorian said as he handed you the tablet back. “And neither will any beasts or natives.”

You cocked an eyebrow at the bounty hunter but didn’t contradict his confidence. “Alright. Then, yes, I should have the ship up and running by the time you get back. Are you leaving now?”

“Once I grab some supplies,” Mando replied before he paused and seemed to consider you. “Will you be… okay until I return?”

It was a familiar question, albeit still surprising. The Mandalorian was a stoic, usually silent warrior, literally a wall of beskar steel. You’d seen him kill men as easy as breathing, and he threw each bounty into carbonite without an ounce of remorse.

And yet, every time he had to leave the ship alone, he asked you if you would be alright until he got back. The question and concern would have made no sense… if you hadn’t seen the bounty hunter interact with his foundling. He tried to hide it, but he treated the little green baby so gently you knew there had to be a warm, beating heart beneath all that beskar. You just never expected any tenderness to be aimed at you, so it drew you up short every time.

“Yeah.” You smiled. “I’ll be fine. Besides—”

You trailed off as you felt something touch your lower leg, and when you looked down, big brown eyes set in a little green face blinked back up at you. Then little green hands lifted in your direction, and you laughed as you swooped down, picked him up, and set him on your hip.

“Besides,” you continued, still chuckling as you booped the child on the nose and left a smudge of red dirt behind, “I’ll have this little guy to keep me company. Right, kid?”

The baby cooed and reached out, his three tiny fingers settling on the bridge of your nose as he tried to boop you back. When he withdrew his hand, though, his skin was dyed black.

“Huh?” You frowned at the slick ooze on his fingers, your eyes crossing as you tried to bring his hand into focus. “What’s on your hand there, bud?”

“It’s grease,” Mando supplied.

“What?” you asked as you turned your head to the bounty hunter.

“Grease,” he repeated, and he touched the intersection on the glass T of his visor, right over where the bridge of his nose would sit. “You’ve got some just there.”

“Oh.” You blushed, your hand flying up to cover your face. Not only were you covered in dirt and sweat, but grease now, too. Typical. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought you knew,” the Mandalorian said, but there was that faint undercurrent in his voice that you were sure was amusement now. “Don’t you have any rags?”

“I did,” you muttered as you tried to rub at your face with your shoulder, “but I had to throw most of them out after that oil leak we had on the moon we left about a week ago. It’s fine. I’m already a mess anyhow, and I’m just going to get dirtier as I fix up the ship.”

Mando seemed to stare at you intensely for a moment, and you had the feeling he was taking in just how filthy your clothes were. You could read nothing from his body language, though, and since he wasn’t speaking, there was nothing to infer from his voice, either. Embarrassed heat crawled up your neck, and you suddenly felt naked in your tank top and leggings. You shifted the child in your arms a little to bring him more in front of you and block more of you from view, but the effort was useless because Mando was abruptly spinning on heel and marching toward the ship’s ramp.

“I’m going to gather supplies,” he said gruffly over his shoulder. “Don’t let the kid touch any of the wires.”

And then he was gone, his cape flapping behind him as he disappeared into the bowels of the Razor Crest.

“Okay, bye,” you muttered, and you frowned after him before looking down at the kid and lowering your voice. “Your dad’s a little weird, you know that?”

The child blinked up at you and then seemed to nod his head in solemn agreement.

You laughed and kissed the top of his head even though you knew you were toeing a dangerous line here. You knew you were just the ship mechanic, the hired help, but you and the foundling had spent a lot of time together when the Mandalorian was out hunting bounties, and you couldn’t help loving the adorable baby like he was your own. He was mischievous and always looking to put things in his mouth that he shouldn’t, but something about his presence was calming, soothing. Plus, those big brown eyes were to die for. You weren’t even that surprised the kid had managed to wiggle his way under Mando’s beskar. It had only been a few months, but you knew without a shadow of a doubt that if it came down to it, you would give your life to save this child.

Which was wildly inappropriate, but you chose to ignore that fact.

“It’s just gonna be the two of us again for a bit, little man,” you told the foundling, turning back to face the Razor Crest. “But we’re gonna have some fun, yeah? Do you want to help me fix up the ship?”

The child gurgled into your ear and patted your cheek, which you took as an affirmative.

“Alright,” you laughed as you set him on a large root right next to your tool bag. You dug around until you found a tool you would need eventually, and then you handed it to the kid. “Here, hold this until I need it, okay? But don’t put it in your mouth.”

The foundling seemed to pout at that last bit, but he dutifully wrapped his three little fingers around the tool and held it firmly.

“Thank you.” You smiled. Then you turned back to the ship, put your hands on your hips, and furrowed your brow. “Now, where to start?”

You spent the next ten minutes assessing what was completely ruined, what was salvageable, and what you had on hand that wasn’t necessary and could possibly be retrofitted to fix the damage. The skeletal beginnings of a plan were already forming in your mind by the time the Mandalorian was clomping down the ramp again. You set down the tablet you’d been tapping away at and picked up the child once more, and the foundling babbled as he waved around the tool he was still holding.

“Be careful with that,” you chuckled, and you craned your head back to avoid getting smacked in the temple. “I’ll need it soon, so keep holding onto it.”

The child cooed and then shifted to wave the tool at the bounty hunter as he approached.

“Putting the kid to work now?” Mando asked as he stopped a few feet away. The crescent-shaped hilt of his favored Amban rifle jutted out over his left shoulder, and a small bag was slung over his right, probably filled with spare ammo, cuffs for the bounty, and possibly some food. You’d never personally seen the Mandalorian eat, though, and a part of you was convinced he didn’t, even if you rationally knew that wasn’t possible.

“Nah, I’m just teaching him a thing or two,” you said as you settled the foundling more soundly on your hip. “You’re never too young to learn something new, and on the plus side, being my little helper keeps him out of trouble. For the most part, anyway.”

“Thank you for watching him,” the bounty hunter said, tilting his visor down minutely to stare at the child, who grinned a gummy grin and waved the silver tool again. “I know it isn’t exactly what I hired you for—”

“I don’t mind,” you cut him off, and you glanced down to smile at the kid. “He’s pretty good company, and some of Peli’s droids have given me more trouble than he does. It’s really no problem.”

“Well, regardless,” Mando replied as his visor returned to studying you. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You nodded, flushing again under his scrutiny. Then you cleared your throat and gestured at the bag on his back. “All ready?”

“Yes,” the bounty hunter said. “Days are longer here, but the sun will set eventually, and I want to try and find the quarry before moonrise. If all goes well, I should be back tomorrow before sunset.”

“Good luck, then,” you told him, and you lifted your chin with confidence. “I should have the ship ready when you return.”

“Thank you.” He inclined his helmet.

The baby suddenly burst out babbling something, and you glanced down to see him reaching out with his free hand toward the Mandalorian. His three little fingers made grabby motions, and the bounty hunter sighed.

“Listen to her while I’m gone, okay?” Mando murmured as he stepped closer into your personal bubble and held out his finger for the foundling to latch on to.

The child cooed, swinging the Mandalorian’s finger from side to side, and the breath stilled in your lungs as the bounty hunter’s glove brushed the edge of your mouth. You smelled something like leather and smoke, probably blaster residue, but then Mando was stepping back again, and the baby was forced to drop his finger.

“Keep alert,” he addressed you as he adjusted the pack on his shoulder. “We’re pretty far from any civilization out here, so I don’t think you should encounter anyone, but don’t assume you’re safe. And get inside the ship once the sun sets. The jungle will be more dangerous at night. I’ll have my comlink on me, but it’s affected by proximity, so you most likely won’t be able to contact me until I’m on my way back.”

“Don’t worry, Mando,” you said, and you patted the blaster he’d given you that was almost permanently attached to your hip. “I can defend myself if need be, and I have no desire to be caught outside after dark. We’ll be fine.”

“I know,” he replied, but you weren’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself. Either way, he seemed to compose himself because he nodded once. “I’ll be back soon.”

“We’ll keep a weather eye on the horizon.” You smiled. “Try not to die of heat stroke.”

“I’ll try my best,” he said dryly, but after one more moment of staring at you and the foundling, he turned on heel and marched off into the jungle without another word. The multi-colored trees swallowed him almost instantly, and suddenly you were alone.

The child cooed sadly as he stared after the Mandalorian, and he turned his big brown eyes on you as if to say, Where’d he go?

“Don’t worry, bud,” you said, turning back to the ship. “He’ll be fine and back before you know it. Now, let’s take a look at those power converters, shall we?”

You set the foundling down beside your tool bag again, but you couldn’t help glancing over your shoulder in the direction the bounty hunter had disappeared in.

He’ll be fine and back before you know it, you repeated silently to yourself.

~~~~~

Two days later, you were starting to doubt the validity of your statements.

The sun had set and risen twice, and there was still no sign of Mando. Now, the celestial orb was steadily making its way across the horizon for the third time, and you sat on the ramp of the ship and glared up at the chattering canopy.

The child was down for a nap in the hammock the Mandalorian had set up in his own bunk, and your eyes burned with a similar exhaustion, but the anxiety slowly mounting in you made it impossible to sleep. The past two days had passed uneventfully. You’d spent every hour of sunlight you had at your disposal patching together the ship, and since days were longer on this planetoid, you estimated you’d spent over seventy-two hours getting the Razor Crest in working order again.

And you’d done it. It wasn’t perfect, but the ship could fly, and you were ninety-eight percent certain it would withstand leaving the atmosphere.

Now, all that was missing was the Mandalorian and his bounty.

“Dank farrik, Mando,” you grumbled under your breath as you dragged your singed, cut-up, and bandaged fingers through your hair. “Where the Maker are you?”

The chittering birds and critters in the underbrush didn’t have an answer for you, and you huffed out an aggravated breath as another bead of sweat dripped into your eyes.

By your estimate, there were about six hours left before the sun set again. Part of you, the illogical, irrational part, wanted to charge into the jungle in search of the Mandalorian. You had a general direction and location he should be in. Maybe you could find him.

But the rational side of your brain thankfully pointed out all the problems with that plan. For one, leaving the ship unattended was dangerous. You hadn’t seen anyone in the past two days, but that didn’t mean you were alone in the jungle, and now that the ship could fly again, someone could potentially walk right in and steal the vessel if you weren’t here to stop them.

Then there was the issue of the foundling. Sometimes, Mando took you and the kid along with him when he was hunting a bounty in a more populated area, but he was always there to protect the two of you if something went wrong. What happened if you brought the child with you into the jungle and you couldn’t protect him? And you couldn’t exactly leave him behind. Someone could steal both the child and the Razor Crest in that scenario.

The most compelling reason to stay with the ship, though, was Mando himself. Before he left, he’d confidently declared that neither the jungle itself nor the beasts or peoples therein would pose any problem for him. If he was wrong, and these things had posed a problem for the bounty hunter, what luck did you have of doing something he could not?

Anddddd that’s where the irrational side of you chimed in again with, Well, if he did run into an issue, he could need your help, so you should go look for him.

It was a vicious cycle, and your head was pounding with how fast it was running in circles.

You groaned as you dropped your face into your hands, digging the heels of your palms into your eye sockets.

“Fine,” you sighed into the darkness. “I’ll give him until morning.”

If the Mandalorian hadn’t returned by then, you’d start up the ship and fly over the area you’d triangulated for him. If you couldn’t find him from the air… well, you’d cross that bridge when you came to it.

~~~~~

You huffed in irritation as you tossed and turned in Mando’s bunk that night. You turned one way, rolled another, but then you found yourself with your nose buried in his pillow, and you instantly flipped back over, face hot with embarrassment even though it was dark and you were practically alone. You weren’t sure if he slept with his helmet on when he was alone in the closed confines of the bunk, but either way, the small space smelled of him intensely. You tried not to put words to his scent, told yourself it was inappropriate and he was your boss, a Mandalorian to boot, and you had no room or right to think of him in any way other than strictly professional… but that apparently didn’t work because you knew he smelled like the cheap soap from the fresher, and the rest was a blend of smoke, leather, and metal, the degrees of which varied by the day and yet was still always uniquely him.

You knew you were playing a losing game even just having these thoughts, but you somehow couldn’t help yourself, couldn’t stop yourself. Ever since Mando stepped between you and Ran’s crew all those months ago, blocking you with his body, a startling, protective rage in every inch of his armored silhouette, this little voice had come to life in the back of your head and wouldn’t shut the kriff up.

What if? the little voice whispered. What if it’s not just you having these thoughts? What if you could have him in more than just your dreams and fantasies in the darkness of this bunk?

Usually, you shoved the voice into the deep, dark recesses of your thoughts and recited equations until it grew quiet. You knew that was nothing but wishful thinking at best and delusion at worst. The Mandalorian was just that: a warrior closed off from the world by a shell of silver beskar. He cared for the foundling, yes, but that was entirely different and bore no correlation to the bounty hunter’s relationship with you. There was little he could possibly want from a former slave turned mechanic, aside from your skills, of course, so you clenched your eyes closed and tried to take shallow breaths through your mouth, but nothing you did could get his scent out of your nose, your memory.

You sighed for the umpteenth time and rolled to face the wall of the bunk.

When the bounty hunter was on the ship, the two of you usually slept in shifts so you could share the bunk, though sometimes the Mandalorian slept upright in the cockpit. It had been his idea originally. You’d been fine with a thin sleeping mat on the floor of the cargo bay, but he’d insisted in his strange, stoic, nonchalant way. So, you shared, and when it was just you and the kid on the ship, the two of you had the run of the place.

The child was currently in the hammock above your head, but you were pretty sure he wasn’t asleep, either. Every so often, he’d gurgle or make some other noise, and more than once you peeked up to find big brown eyes staring down at you in the dimness. You wondered if he could sense your anxiety, and you shifted so you could glare past your feet, out of the bunk, and at the closed ramp door.

You wanted to be angry with Mando, but by the time the sun set a few hours ago, you’d moved past that anger and straight into worry. The bounty hunter had never been gone this long before without contact, and your gut told you something was wrong and wouldn’t let you sleep. You wished you could blame your insomnia completely on your concern, but sadly, that wasn’t the case.

As if on cue, a sudden, piercing shriek echoed through the ship, and all the muscles in your body locked up on reflex.

The child gasped and made a worried noise as he poked his head over the edge of his hammock and stared down at you, and you tried to plaster on a fake, reassuring smile.

“It’s alright,” you murmured, reaching up to gently rock the foundling. “The ship’s closed and locked up. They can’t get us in here.”

The baby made an unconvinced sound, but he settled back into his bed without any further argument.

You sighed as you continued to rock the child, and you did your best not to flinch when another high-pitched screech sounded outside the ship.

You weren’t entirely sure what “they” were, but you knew they were nocturnal and carnivorous. And hungry. The past two mornings, you’d found bloody animal remains torn to bits and strewn along the edges of the clearing the Razor Crest was parked in like gory, crimson confetti. You’d kept the child practically glued to your side during the days because of this, but nothing ever attacked you during the day. They just circled the ship incessantly at night, howling and screeching and keeping you from finding a moment’s peace or rest. They hadn’t outright attacked the ship yet, but you were ready for it, your borrowed blaster a cold and heavy weight tucked under your pillow.

Reaching for it now, you curled your fingers around the familiar hilt and tried to block out the crescendoing, bloodthirsty shrieks of the mysterious jungle beasts.

You didn’t know how or when, but you must have dozed off at some point because all of the sudden, you jolted awake with a panicked gasp.

The bunk was dark and close around you, but since you’d left the door open at your feet, it wasn’t claustrophobic. Your vision was still blurry with sleep, so you swiped at your eyes with the back of your left wrist as you scrambled into a seated position. In your right hand you grasped the blaster, and you pointed it blindly in front of you, toward the rear of the ship.

You couldn’t remember what had woken you up, but it had been something. Your heart pounded a frantic tattoo into the underside of your ribcage, your arm shaking minutely with adrenaline. The ramp was still closed in front of you, so it hadn’t been Mando opening the door and returning. You squinted in the darkness but couldn’t see anything beyond shadows and vague shapes in pale, muted moonlight. It must have still been night, then.

You strained your ears, listening for the howling, but it was quiet. Suspiciously quiet. The jungle beasts usually didn’t go silent until right before dawn, but it was dark enough in the ship that you estimated it was still the middle of the night.

Where had they gone?

Your heart rose up into your throat, sweat beading at every one of your pores, and your mouth was so dry that your throat clicked when you swallowed.

The child made a noise of inquiry above you, barely louder than a breath, but it still made you jump all the same. Your gaze darted upward to find brown eyes staring down at you, but they were wide in an alarmed sort of way. One three-fingered hand poked over the edge of the hammock, making grabby motions at you, and the noise he made this time was more urgent, louder.

Had he heard something, too?

“What is it, little guy?” you whispered, reaching up with your free hand and awkwardly grappling him from his sling-bed.

He tumbled gently into your lap with a soft “oof,” but almost immediately he was standing up, turning around, and frantically patting at your cheek.

“What?” you asked with a frown.

He babbled and continued to tap the side of your face, and his noises grew increasingly distressed until he was grunting with frustration.

Then his tiny palm actually slapped down right across your ear canal so hard that both of your ears rang, and you hissed as you jerked your head back.

“Kriff, what was that fo—” you started to ask, but another hiss cut you off, and this one wasn’t from you.

Your heart stuttered, eyes skipping over the child’s head and out into the cargo bay, and your right hand tightened around the blaster you’d lowered to your side.

But there was nothing there. Nothing moved in the shadowy ship beyond you, and you frowned, thinking your mind was playing tricks on your startled and sleep-addled mind, but then the hiss came again.

And this time, you recognized it.

“Oh, pfassk!” you cursed as you craned around and shoved your hand under the pillow. Your fingers scrambled wildly across the sheet but encountered nothing, and you growled in aggravation, shifting the child off your lap and coming onto your hands and knees. You tossed the pillow over your shoulder in a fit of frustration, and your right hand slapped at the wall around your head until the bunk light came on.

You squinted in the flood of harsh light, the child gurgling behind you, but when your vision cleared, you spotted the thumb-sized comlink off the edge of the cot, shoved up into the far corner of the bunk. You lunged forward and wrapped your fingers around the small device, and the words were falling out of your mouth before you were even sure you had hit the button.

“Mando?” you called into the comlink, cringing when your loud voice echoed back to you in the close confines of the bunk. “Mando, can you hear me?”

Mild static crackled back for a moment as you huddled around the tiny communicator, but then a louder burst of static—the hiss from earlier—exploded to life.

And you were sure you heard Mando’s voice in there.

“Mando!” you shouted as you heart did its best imitation of a speeder, and you cupped both hands around the comlink like that would help him hear you better. “Mando, it’s me! I’m here. Can you hear me?”

Another burst of static. Then…

Mando yelled your name, clear as day, followed by a scream of what sounded like “help” and a chorus of familiar howling, and your stomach bottomed out inside of you.

“Mando!” You were gripping the communicator so hard you were afraid you were going to break it. “Mando, where are you? What’s wrong?”

He didn’t respond. You sat there frozen for a full minute, ears straining to the point of ringing, but only quiet static crackled back at you.

“Dank farrik!” you cursed, punching the side of your fist into the bunk wall.

The child cooed at you, brown eyes big with concern, and he put his tiny hand on your knee as you raked a shaking hand through your hair.

Your chest heaved up and down as you fought for breath, your mind spinning off into a million directions at once.

Mando was in trouble. Mando needed your help. He was fighting jungle beasts, and he was far enough away that you couldn’t hear the shrieking with your own ears, but close enough that he could partially reach you over the comlink. You had to do something. You had to go help him.

But what about the child? What about the ship? You couldn’t take the Razor Crest. It was pitch black outside, and you wouldn’t be able to see Mando below the thick, dark canopy. You had to go on foot.

And you had to take the kid with you.

“Come on,” you said as you tucked the communicator into your pocket, grabbed the foundling and blaster, and scooted to the edge of the bunk. Your boots were on the ground below you, and you shoved your feet in them blindly, tying the laces in three deft movements.

Then you were on your feet, turning on the cargo lights, and jogging the child over to his floating silver carrier. You grabbed the spare remote on top of it, pressing the button and watching the top slide open with a hiss. Then you set the foundling down inside of it, and in the same motion you were tucking the remote into your pocket, turning on heel, and striding for the armory.

Another button press, followed by the hiss of hydraulics, and you were left staring at several walls of guns and weaponry. Some of them you knew. Mando had even taught you how to shoot a few, but those were typically smaller blasters.

And based on those howling screeches, you needed something with more of a kick.

Your eyes skipped over the blaster pistols since you already had the one on your hip, and after a moment’s indecision, your gaze settled on a midsized rifle you’d shot once before. You hadn’t been very good at it, only hit four of the ten targets Mando set out, and you remember it being very heavy.

But it was better than nothing, and you needed something to fight back against the dark jungle.

So, you took the rifle down and looped it around your shoulder, pursing your lips as the strap dug into your skin. You spent a moment checking the power cell and gas canister, and even though both were full, you still stuck a few spares into a belt that you wrapped around your hips. You also added a few grenades to your arsenal, both explosive and ones set to stun, plus a pair of Mando’s vibroknives, as a last defense measure. If you were being honest, if the rifle and grenades failed you, you probably wouldn’t live long enough to use the knives, but it made you feel better to clip their sheaths unto your belt.

The rifle and belt weighed you down with an extra five to six kilos, but you had lugged far heavier burdens through Tatooine’s desert, so you knew you could handle it.

The last two things you grabbed were the head lamp you typically wore when working under or inside ships and the cuff you’d programmed to work the twin lights—along with a variety of other tasks aboard the Razor Crest—resting at each of your temples. The cuff was a haphazard creation of yours made of old leather, metal, and glass, but it worked and was comfortable, which was all that mattered. It also had a small magnetic slot that was specifically meant for the remote of the foundling’s floating carrier, so you fished that out of your pocket and felt it snap into place with a satisfying click.

You were armed and ready now. All you had to do was move.

“Mando,” you said as you stuck the comlink in your ear and synced it to your cuff, which had a built-in frequency booster. You were already moving toward the ramp, tapping at your wrist and listening to the foundling’s carrier humming after you. The rifle felt heavy as you maneuvered it into your slick palms, and your heart hammered a war song in your ears. “Mando, I’m coming for you. Just hold on, okay?”

Static crackled in your ear, and your chest began to heave up and down as adrenaline flooded through you.

“Okay, little man, you’re going to take a nap, alright?” you said as you looked down at the child in his pod, your voice shaking even though you tried to stop it. “And when you wake up, your dad will be back with us.”

He cooed up at you with a fearful expression on his face, but you only spared a moment to press a kiss to his head before you were tapping at your wrist again. The lid of the pod started to hiss close as the ramp of the ship began to clank open, and you slid your finger onto the rifle’s trigger as the door slowly lowered before you.

The ramp finally thudded to the jungle floor, and you took a moment to stare out into the foreboding darkness. The moon was pale and wan in the purple-tinted sky, and all you could see were shadows along the edges of the clearing. Your eyes darted back and forth, every muscle in your body locked and braced for an attack, but nothing happened. Nothing moved save the indigo clouds over head, and the only sound you heard was the muted chirps and hums of insects.

“Okay, come on, quit stalling,” you muttered to yourself even though your heart felt like it was about to roll off your tongue. “Mando doesn’t have time for this.”

At the sound of his name—or at least, the only name you had ever known the bounty hunter by—some of the fear inside you vanished, and you were suddenly jogging down the ramp without further thought. The child’s carrier trailed after you quietly, and you jabbed at your wrist to close and lock up the Razor Crest.

You spared half a glance over your shoulder to make sure the ramp was secured, and then you looked down at your cuff. Mando’s comlink had a built in GPS transmitter, but its range was limited. However, if he was close enough to briefly contact you…

A dot flickered in and out on the grungy screen on your wrist, and you spun in a circle to figure out which direction had the strongest connection. The dot flared brightly when you angled toward the west, and you started running before you even had a plan.

You crashed through the underbrush with the child’s pod hot on your heels, and the thick, humid air sawed in and out of your heaving lungs as you gasped for breath. The lights at your temples provided enough illumination to see several steps ahead of you but not much else, and you tripped and careened over root and vine as you tried not to lose your grip on the rifle.

The good news was the dot on your read-out was no longer flickering, and it was now a strong red point about a kilometer ahead of you.

The bad news?

The jungle was no longer quiet around you.

As your feet pounded into the red soil and carried you forward, static crackled loudly in your ear, and the howling returned, faint at first but growing closer. Shivers wracked your sweat-slicked spine, and every fiber of your being was screaming to run the other way.

But you couldn’t. Because now you could hear Mando grunting and shouting over the comlink, clearer and clearer with each step, and as you vaulted over a protruding root in your path, you distinctly heard a roar of rage directly ahead of you.

You would have shouted his name if there was any breath left in your lungs, but instead you just lowered your head and sprinted as fast as you could.

The howling was nearly deafening now, echoing all around you, seeming to come from every shadow in the jungle. Your ears rang with the soul-piercing shrieks, and the cacophony was so disorienting, you tripped over your own feet and crashed into the dirt.

“Kriff!” you gasped, your knees and palms stinging as you skidded to a halt. Dots danced in front of your eyes as you panted harshly, and the rifle knocked painfully against your sternum.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the child’s pod come to a stop several feet away, the silver orb glinting in the pale moonlight barely filtering through the canopy.

Then you saw something else shift in the shadows behind the floating carrier.

At first, you thought it was your swimming vision, but then the weak lights of your headlamp reflected off several glinting eyes, and the breath stalled in your lungs.

A guttural, wet growl echoed out of the bushes beyond the foundling’s pod, and in the next instant the beast was lunging forward, vaulting over the carrier in one bound.

You yelped as you scrambled backward, fumbling for the rifle’s trigger, and you got the barrel up just in time to block a bifurcated jaw of gnashing fangs. The beast let out a piercing shriek as it snapped at your face, and the familiar sound nearly popped your eardrum at this proximity, but the pain barely even registered as you wedged your legs up under the creature’s chest and heaved it off you.

The beast let out a high-pitched yip as it smacked into a tree trunk, but you didn’t give it the chance to regain its feet. In one swift movement, you brought the rifle up, sighted down the barrel, and pulled the trigger.

The blaster must have been set on full-auto because a continuous stream of energy screamed out of the weapon, and the barrel jerked upward with the recoil. Bolts of energy shredded through the vines and branches overhead, and some kind of bat-bird creature screeched as it dove out of the canopy and swooped over you. It thankfully wasn’t trying to attack, merely flee, and the avian-beast cawed angrily as it disappeared into the jungle.

“P-Pfassk,” you panted, your voice as jittery as your racing pulse. Still, you scrambled to your feet, with the smoking rifle held tight in your shaking grasp, and you stared wide-eyed at the corpse of the beast that had attacked you.

The thing was almost two meters long, and six disjointed looking limbs jutted out from underneath it. Your would-be-killer looked vaguely canine yet also insect-like, with its long snout and what looked like scaled plates along its spine. The combination made your stomach churn. The blaster had carved smoldering holes into most of the creature’s flesh, but the uncharred remains were blackish-purple, mottled with spots of blue and green that matched the jungle’s underbrush. The beast was entirely hairless and slick-looking like an oil spill, and its bifurcated maw hung open to reveal rows of rotted black fangs. Two pairs of pale white eyes stared blindly up at the dark sky, and purplish blood seeped out around the carcass to stain the jungle floor.

Bile rose in your throat, but before you could even process your fear, terror, and revulsion, a very human sounding scream echoed through the dark night, and you whipped your head in the direction it had come from.

“Mando,” you breathed, and you spared the dead beast one last glance before you took off running again, every sense on high alert.

You didn’t dare blink as you crashed through the underbrush, and you pushed your aching limbs as fast as they would go. The din of snarling and howling was so loud now it was rattling your teeth, and all of the sudden you were stumbling out of the thick tree line and into a small clearing.

A clearing riddled with bodies, both living and dead.

Your brain stuttered as it tried to assess the scene before you. The canopy overhead was broken in a perfect circle, so the moonlight here was strong and bright after the deep shadows of the jungle, and it illuminated everything perfectly. The Mandalorian stood in the center of the carnage, half collapsed against a rotten log twice as tall as he was. Carcasses of the canine-like beasts were piled up in mounds around the clearing, some shot but some charred into blackened skeletons, and the stench of burnt flesh invaded your nose and sat heavy on the back of your tongue.

For every dead beast, though, there were two more still snarling, and boy, were they pissed.

The pack of creatures prowled in a semi-circle before the bounty hunter, all their attention centered on him, and they growled and snapped their bifurcated jaws in his direction. They didn’t seem to want to attack him head on, and a moment later you saw why.

One of the beasts must have reached its breaking point, because with the same piercing shriek that had kept you up the past two nights, it lunged for the Mandalorian, the moonlight glinting off the armored plates along its spine.

The poor bastard never made it.

While the creature was still in mid-air, Mando jerked his wrist up, and a blast of flames roared out of his vambrace. The beast screeched as it was swallowed by the inferno, and its charred corpse crashed to the ground at Mando’s feet a moment later. The remainder of the pack snarled in fury as they paced in front of the bounty hunter, but you felt your throat tighten with fear.

The flamethrower was obviously a great weapon at repelling these creatures, but judging by the radius on that last spurt of fire, you estimated Mando had enough fuel for one, maybe two more attacks.

And there were dozens of the beasts left.

What were you going to do?

You heaved for breath as your eyes darted around the clearing, trying to look for a solution, but you knew the answer was obvious: you were going to have to fight.

You blindly tapped at your wrist, and a moment later the child’s carrier rose up above your head and nestled against the lowest branch of the tree you were standing under. You didn’t know if the beasts could climb, but the pod was made of a strong, reinforced metal, so as long as the creatures didn’t notice the kid, he should be fine.

The same couldn’t be said for you.

Maker, you were going to regret this, weren’t you?

You didn’t give yourself the chance to change your mind.

“Hey!” you shouted as you stepped further into the clearing, one of your hands dropping to the belt on your waist.

The chorus of snarls and growls tapered off for a moment as the pack whipped around in unison to face you, and the saliva evaporated in your mouth as you stared at the dozens of glowing white eyes.

At the sound of your voice, you could see Mando jerk upright in your peripherals, but you didn’t dare tear your eyes off the pack as they started to stalk toward you. Sweat dripped down your face and trickled along your spine as you palmed a cold, heavy orb in your right hand, and you watched the distance between you and the creatures shrink bit by bit.

Mando shouted your name, but you ignored him.

“Yeah, that’s right!” you yelled at the beasts instead. “You guys hungry? Why don’t you come and get me?”

“What are you doing?” Mando roared, but you still didn’t pay him any mind as you tracked the pack. There were maybe three dozen left alive, and they bared their black fangs at you as they drew closer and closer.

Twenty meters… fifteen… ten…

Now.

“Take this!” You heaved your arm back, aimed at the beast in the center of the pack’s line, and threw with all your might, and the creature yelped as the stun grenade struck him in the skull.

A moment later, a web of electricity exploded out of the orb and arced through half of the pack, and the poor bastards screeched and screamed as they fell spasming to the jungle floor. The beasts on the edges snarled as they jumped away from their sparking brethren, and you saw some of the canine-monsters retreat into the shadows of the clearing.

This was your chance.

You darted forward the moment you had a clear path to take, and you vaulted over the pack’s twitching bodies in three swift strides. When you landed on the other side of them, you spun around and faced the fallen creatures as they whined and spasmed on the ground. Then you lifted your rifle, aimed haphazardly, and pulled the trigger. You swept the barrel from side to side for a moment, energy bolts tearing and searing through flesh, but then you whirled back around and sprinted toward the Mandalorian’s prone form.

He was propped up against the log with his legs splayed out in front of him, and you inhaled sharply when you saw the dark stain of blood on the ground beneath his right thigh. His Amban rifle lay beside him, but since he wasn’t using it, you assumed he was out of ammo. The bounty hunter listed heavily onto what you first thought was a rock of some kind, but as you skidded to a stop in front of him, you realized the lump was the body of another humanoid, except it didn’t look to be breathing.

“Mando!” you gasped as you crouched down in front of him. “Maker, w-what happened—”

“What are you doing here?” he cut you off with a snarl, and the absolute rage in his voice drew you up short.

You gaped at his visor, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “W-What… you called—”

“I didn’t call you, he did, right before they tore out his throat,” Mando growled and shoved the prone form beside him.

The body flopped over with a thud, and you stifled a gag when you realized the poor bastard had been eviscerated. He was torn open from gut to gullet, intestines and innards gleaming wetly in the dark, and his bulging black eyes stared up unseeingly at the moon.

“Dank farrik, Mando,” you breathed in horror. “What happened?”

The Mandalorian tilted his helmet up to look at you, but then his gaze seemed to shift over your shoulder, and he was suddenly latching onto your wrist with an iron grip and tugging you forward.

“Watch out!” he shouted as you tripped over his legs and landed on the other side of him, and a moment later you heard and felt the roar of flames at your back as another beast met a smoldering end.

You scrambled up onto your knees and whirled around, rifle held at the ready, but there were only the two new dead creatures sprawled at Mando’s feet. Their corpses smoked as their blackened flesh crackled, and this time you weren’t successful in stifling your gag. You dry-heaved off to the side, tears blurring your vision, but when the chorus of bone-chilling howls started up again, you blinked away the tears and clenched your rifle in a white-knuckled grip.

“We gotta get out of here,” you panted, your eyes darting from place to place as you tried to track the beasts slithering through the shadows.

“Can’t,” Mando grunted, and all of the sudden, you realized his voice sounded off, slurred.

You whipped back around to face the bounty hunter, and your gaze immediately fell to the dark stain under his leg. It had grown since you’d first seen it, and then you realized a haphazard tourniquet was lashed around the top of his leg, right above the metal plate that covered the front of his thigh.

“You’re hurt,” you breathed. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.” Mando’s head jerked up and down in an unsteady nod. “Just… happened. One of them got me… when I was trying to save the bounty. Pretty sure they nicked my femoral.”

His words were softer and definitely slurred now, and panic rose up in your throat like a burning coal.

“Then we need to get back to the Razor Crest now,” you said as you reached for his shoulders, but the Mandalorian sluggishly shoved you away.

“I’ll… only slow you down,” he grunted. “The bounty and I… are easy meals. The pack should stay to finish us off while you make a break for the sh—”

“No,” you cut him off, and the snarl in your voice surprised even you. “No, Mando. I’m not leaving you to die. We’re only a kilometer away from the Razor Crest. I have extra power cells and grenades. We can make it.”

Mando’s head thunked back against the log he leaned on as he stared up at you, and even if you couldn’t see the face underneath the visor, you could see the resignation in every inch of him.

And it ignited a fury in you unlike anything you had ever known.

“So, what?” you growled, bending down to bare your teeth in his face. “You’re just gonna sit here and die? What about the kid? You just gonna abandon him?”

You’re just going to abandon me? you didn’t say, but the words rattled against the backs of your clenched teeth.

“He’ll… have you,” Mando said, and suddenly his gloved hand reached up as if to touch your face, but he didn’t seem to have the strength, and the tip of his index finger barely grazed the edge of your jaw. His touch left behind a warm streak on your skin, and you didn’t have to look to know it was blood.

“That’s not good enough,” you snarled before you stooped down and grabbed the ends of his makeshift tourniquet, yanking tightly on both ends until Mando groaned in pain and latched onto your shoulders.

He murmured your name, his modulator crackling in your ear, but you ignored him as you looped his spent Amban rifle over his shoulder and shifted to slide your left arm behind his back, throwing his right arm over your shoulders. You took two deep breaths to brace yourself, and then you dug your fingers into his waist as you tried to leverage the both of you onto your feet.

It was nearly impossible. The Mandalorian had to weigh nearly ninety kilos in his beskar, and with the added weight of the weapons and grenades you carried, you could feel the muscles in your legs, core, and back scream at the strain.

“Dank… farrik,” you hissed out between clenched teeth, but you managed to get the two of you upright, even if Mando was practically limp against you. Still, you had to leverage your back against the log behind you to keep from collapsing.

“We’ll never make it… back to the ship like this,” Mando panted, his cold helmet brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Shut up,” you gritted out, listening to the howling beasts closing in again like they could sense your weakness. “I refuse to leave you behind. So, unless you want to kill us both, you need to get your ass in gear, Mando. I can keep them off our backs as we go, but you need to walk with me. Understand?”

“Cyare,” he slurred, and the unfamiliar word sounded pained as his helmet thunked into your temple. “I… don’t want you to die.”

“Then walk,” you grunted as you tightened your grip on his waist and lurched forward a step.

Mando staggered behind you, half draped over your back, but you widened your stance and refused to go down.

“Please… Mando,” you panted, shoving the barrel of your rifle into the loamy red soil to act as a crutch. “Help me save us. Just… just put one foot in front of the other.”

“Wait,” the Mandalorian said, and he actually lifted his head off your shoulder. “The bounty…”

“The bounty’s dead,” you grunted as your eyes darted to the trees again. You could see the sinuous shapes of the pack weaving between the towering trunks, but they kept their distance for the moment. They’d lost more than half of their numbers by your estimate, and you prayed to the Maker they would just give up, but you knew that would be way too convenient for your life.

“The puck… said dead or alive,” Mando sighed, his arm weighing down on the nape of your neck like a yoke, and it reminded you of the slave’s collar you once wore.

“I can’t carry both of you back, Mando,” you growled in frustration. “I can barely drag you.”

“Don’t need the whole body,” he clarified. “Just… the head. It’s… a big bounty.”

You groaned as you glanced down at the quarry’s corpse, and then you tilted your head back to try and look at Mando.

“Can you stand by yourself for a minute?” you asked.

“Maybe,” Mando grunted, but he shifted his weight off you bit by bit and leaned up against the tall log at your backs. His boots slid a few inches in the blood-soaked dirt as he almost collapsed, but he dug his gloved fingers into the rigid bark and stood there shaking.

“Didn’t know I was paying you for maybes,” you parroted his words from days ago back at him in an attempt to take his mind off the pain, and it seemed to work because he actually huffed out a strained-sounding chuckle.

“Hurry,” he panted, and you nodded as you quickly stepped away from him, stood over the bounty’s corpse, and shoved the barrel of your rifle between his shoulder and neck.

It was so dark, and you were running on so much adrenaline you couldn’t even be sure of what species the man used to be, but you pushed the thought away as you took a deep breath and held down the trigger.

The rifle screeched as it tore through flesh like a hot knife through butter, and you tried to ignore the feeling of lukewarm blood splattering across your lower legs. Moments later, the jittery, rapid-fire motions of the gun ceased, and the bounty’s head rolled away from the smoldering stump of his neck.

Bile rose up in your throat again, but you swallowed it down as you picked up the decapitated head and started punching buttons on your cuff.

Instantly, you heard the familiar hum of the child’s pod drone closer and closer, and behind you Mando inhaled sharply as the jungle dogs yipped in curiosity from the shadows.

“You brought the kid?” he growled.

“Well, it wasn’t like you left me much kriffing choice, but you can fire me later for child endangerment,” you snapped as the carrier floated down to stop in front of you. Then you turned to the Mandalorian and held out your bloodied hand. “I need your fibercord whip. Eject it.”

Mando didn’t even question you, he just did as he was bid. Within moments, you had the thin but strong wire wound up in your palm, and then you started the gory process of wrapping it securely around the bounty’s bloody head. Your stomach churned at the slick warm goo covering your skin, but you swallowed the saliva pooling in your mouth as you tapped at your wrist again.

The child’s pod opened with a hiss, and you made sure to lower the decapitated head so it was below the carrier and out of the foundling’s line of sight.

“Hey there, bud,” you said as you leaned down and tucked the end of the fibercord into the interior of the pod near the hinges. “Look who I found.”

The foundling cooed and gurgled happily when he caught sight of the Mandalorian, and he lifted his arms and made grabby motions at the bounty hunter.

“Not yet,” you said as you stepped forward and blocked Mando from view. “First, we need to get back to the ship, so I need to close you up again. Don’t worry about anything you hear, though, okay? I promise we’ll be fine.”

The child murmured a soft sound as you bent down and kissed his wrinkled brow, but then you tapped at your wrist, and the pod closed with another hiss, locking the wire with the dangling head in place. You keyed in a few more commands, and the carrier rose up high above you, hovering at least six meters off the ground. Blood dripped from the severed stump of the quarry’s neck as it dangled from the pod, and you flinched when a speck of it landed on your cheek. It might be disgusting, but this way, the child and the remainder of the bounty would hopefully be out of reach of any of the beasts, and you could focus all your energy on getting you and Mando back to the Razor Crest.

“Alright.” You tore your gaze away from the silver pod and shifted your grasp on the rifle, wedging the stock against your right shoulder as tight as you could. You knew your aim would be abysmal since you were going have to shoot one handed while dragging Mando, but you hoped the full-auto setting would grant you some leeway. “Let’s go.”

“You really should—” the Mandalorian started, but you clicked your tongue to cut him off.

“That wasn’t a request,” you said as you sidled up against the bounty hunter and double checked that his tourniquet was secure.

“Fine.” He reluctantly draped his right arm over your shoulder, and you wrapped your left one around his waist. Then the two of you pushed off the log at your backs, and you staggered forward several steps, trying not to trip on any dead jungle dogs.

Mando’s cold beskar felt like it was burning you wherever it brushed against your bare, hot flesh, and he groaned in your ear as he practically dragged his injured leg behind him. The agony of his voice made you want to stop and sprint forward all at the same time, but you settled for stumbling several more steps.

“That’s it,” you panted in encouragement. “One step at a time.”

The pack howled and shrieked as you painstakingly shuffled your way across the clearing, but you haphazardly aimed your rifle into the jungle and held down the trigger. Rapid-fire bolts of energy careened into the darkness, illuminating white eyes and flashes of twining vines and snarling beasts, but several yowls echoed through the night, so you knew you’d hit at least some of them.

“Mando,” you gritted out as you neared the tree line. “I need you to hit my cuff. There’s a button on the side that will turn up my headlamp. I want it at maximum. Since these bastards are nocturnal, I’m guessing they don’t like the light.”

The Mandalorian grunted something that sounded like an affirmative, and then his left hand was swatting blindly at your cuff. After fumbling for a moment, his thick, gloved fingers encircled your wrist, his thumb brushing faintly over your thudding pulse point.

Your feet nearly tangled beneath you, but then Mando found the button on your cuff, and he pressed on it until the lights at your temple were bright enough to blind. The beams of white light cut through the oppressive darkness of the jungle, and the canine creatures yelped in pain as they darted back into the shadows. You swung your gaze back and forth, your lamp dragging over the scenery like a burning laser, and the beasts whimpered as their tails disappeared into the bushes.

“Come on,” you groaned as you dragged Mando forward, and the two of you finally stumbled into the thick of the trees.

You didn’t know how much time passed as you and the Mandalorian struggled back to the ship. Seconds seemed like minutes, minutes hours. The moon appeared frozen in the sky above your head, and more than once you had the thought that you were already dead, and this was some messed up version of an afterlife where you were tortured for eternity.

In the end, though, you knew you were alive.

If you weren’t, it wouldn’t hurt so much.

“Left,” Mando slurred in your ear, half draped over your back, and your feet stuttered as you swung both of you around to the left.

The rifle screeched as it fired off into the darkness, followed by the yelps of dying dogs, and you hissed as the stock dug into your already sore shoulder. The pack snarled and gurgled as they encircled you, but they were hesitant now that you’d killed a majority of them. You wondered why they just didn’t give up, but you realized they could most likely sense you weakening, slowing.

Sweat ran in rivers down your face and spine, and every tendon in your body felt like it was on the edge of snapping. You could tell Mando was trying to take some of his weight off you, but he was becoming more and more unsteady with each step, his breath jagged and uneven as it rasped out of his helmet. He probably wouldn’t remain conscious for much longer, and if he passed out before you reached the ship, you were both dead. You couldn’t fully carry him, and you would not even entertain the idea of leaving him, so it was all or nothing.

Either you both reached the ship together, or neither of you did.

But, as you glanced up at the child’s pod hovering high over your head, you knew the second choice wasn’t really an option. The kid needed you. Needed both of you.

So, you were going to kriffing live, even if you had to break your body down to achieve your goal.

“Come on,” you encouraged as you stumbled over a tree root. “Come on, Mando. We’re almost there. Stay with me, okay?”

You had no idea if you were almost there or not. The homing beacon on your cuff was beeping steadily, but with all the howling, and the blood pounding through your ears, you couldn’t approximate how close you were to the Razor Crest.

“I’m… trying,” Mando mumbled, lifting his head just slightly. “B-Behind us.”

You cursed under your breath, letting the rifle dangle against your chest as you fumbled at your waist. Your fingers curled around a cold, metal orb, and you clicked the button in its center before you lobbed the grenade over your shoulder with all the strength you had left, which wasn’t much.

Then you staggered forward a little faster, dragging the bounty hunter behind you, and five seconds later, you heard the stun grenade go off, followed by the crackling of static and the yelping of beasts.

“That’s my last… stun grenade,” you panted, and the hair on your arms stood on end with all the electricity in the moist air. “I have some explosive ones… but…”

“But we’re not fast enough to get out of range in time,” Mando finished for you, his helmet bumping into the crown of your head as he sagged a little more.

“Yeah,” you huffed, but then a crunch to your right had you whirling and firing in one motion.

The canine yipped and screeched as the energy bolts tore through its chest mid-lunge, and it crashed into the ground at your feet as you staggered into a tree. The bark scraped painfully across your bare shoulder blades, and Mando groaned as you almost lost your grip on him.

“No,” you growled, tightening your arm around the bounty hunter and tugging you both upright. “Dank… farrik!”

The muscles in your arm burned hotly from the strain of keeping the Mandalorian on his feet, and you bit through your tongue to keep from crying out, the metallic taste of blood coating your teeth and whetting your parched mouth.

You stumbled forward blindly as you tried to work through the pain, but all the sudden, the claustrophobic darkness caused by the towering trees lessened a few degrees. You thought you were hallucinating it at first, but then you lifted your head a fraction and realized the trees were thinning out ahead of you.

And the beacon in your cuff was beeping like mad.

You were almost there. The Razor Crest was so close.

Of course, that’s when the snarling behind you reached new frantic heights, and you knew the pack was gearing up for one final assault.

“Mando, listen to me,” you gasped as you shifted to shove him against a tree, using your palm to keep him rooted at the sternum and on his feet.

He groaned as he listed there, mumbling something that didn’t sound like it was in Basic, but he remained upright, so you seized the opportunity to jab at the screen on your wrist. A moment later, the child’s pod swooped down from where it had been hovering near the canopy, and the bounty’s head dragged against the jungle floor with a dull crunch. You tweaked the carrier’s settings half blind, one eye on the encroaching darkness and the beasts therein, and then you grabbed the floating orb and shoved it against Mando’s gut.

“Ugh,” the bounty hunter grunted, his feet starting to slide out from under him.

“No, lean forward,” you rushed out, grabbing one of his shoulders and tugging him toward you.

Mando moaned as he collapsed onto the child’s pod, but since you’d cranked up the carrier’s power output to the max, the bounty hunter didn’t crash to the ground. Instead, he hung there half suspended, the pod whirling angrily from his added weight, his feet limp and dragging behind him.

“Mando,” you said as you tapped the side of his helmet, eyes still on the shadowy trees. “Mando, I need you to hold onto that pod as tight as you can, okay? Can you hear me?”

“Hear… you,” the Mandalorian just barely breathed, and you saw his arms wrap around the bottom of the silver carrier.

“Hold on like your life depends on it,” you instructed as you tapped at your wrist again. “Because it does.”

“What—” he started to ask, but he didn’t get to finish the question because the pod was suddenly surging forward, in the direction of the ship. The bounty’s head and Mando’s feet dragged loudly against the ground, but with one last jolt of power, the pod lifted away from the jungle floor and began to float away.

The pod would probably have just enough power to get Mando back to the ship before it died, but that was fine. That was just what you needed.

The jungle dogs howled and shrieked as they watched the Mandalorian drifting away through the trees, but as you listened to them start to skirt around you in his direction, you finally gripped the rifle with two hands and aimed into the dark.

Then you pulled the trigger, full-auto, and the shrieking of the energy bolts collided with the screeching of the canines and crescendoed into a deafening cacophony. You sprayed the jungle in wide sweeps as you slowly started to walk backward toward the Razor Crest, the rifle stock jolting into your shoulder in time with your racing heart. You just needed to give Mando time to reach the ship. You had programmed the pod to open the ramp at a certain distance, so they would just fly on into the cargo bay, and it would close behind them. Once they were safe, you could make a break for it and—

Suddenly, one of the shadows broke away from the trunk directly to your right, and you turned too late to see it was a slavering beast, its bifurcated jaw wide open and aimed for your throat.

“Ahh!” You stumbled back, trying to crane away from those jagged black fangs, but your feet got tangled up beneath you, and you came crashing down. A root slammed into one of your rear ribs so hard you heard and felt the snap as the bone gave, but you didn’t even have time to register that pain before the jungle dog smashed into your chest.

You instinctively shoved your arms outward, wedging the rifle between those deadly, snapping jaws. One of the beast’s jagged fangs scraped down your forearm as you tried to keep the bastard from swallowing you whole, and you screamed in fury and pain as blood spilled from your rending flesh.

Then you brought your knee up and smashed it as hard as you could into the jungle dog’s ribcage, and this time you felt its rib snap, and grim satisfaction burned like a wildfire through your blood. The warmth filled your limbs until you thought you would burst into flame, and you kicked the beast again and again as it yipped.

You were just starting to think you had the upper hand when the creature’s jaw started to close with a creaking sound of bone on metal, and your eyes widened in horror as the canine jerked its head back, taking your rifle with it. Then its bifurcated jaw snapped close with a horrible crunch, and the rifle shattered into shards of metal and sparks.

The beast roared in pain and rage as it tossed the remains of your rifle aside, but now you were acting on pure survival instinct, not thought, not logic, and you were already wrenching two grenades and a vibroknife off your belt when the nightmare dog finally settled its four milky white eyes on your face.

“Eat this, you bastard,” you snarled as its terrible jaws, rowed with serrated teeth, descended on you.

Then with one hand you stabbed the vibroknife into its neck just above the shoulder, and with the other you activated the grenades and shoved both of them down the jungle dog’s throat.

Warm blood sprayed down on you like humid rainfall, and you twisted the blade in to the hilt, feeling as it tore through flesh in a jittery fashion. The creature gagged and gurgled as its throat muscles convulsed around your other wrist for just an instant, but then you yanked your arms back with all your might, teeth catching on your elbow again, before you crashed into the dirt.

You were scrambling up in the next instant, barely listening to the creature heaving and choking behind you as you staggered forward into a clumsy sprint.

The rest of the pack howled at your back, but you were flat out running now, and you could see the Razor Crest through the trees. The pounding of paws on dirt sounded at your heels, and you couldn’t tell if you were gasping for breath or sobbing as you tore the final grenades off your belt, activated them, and let them fall through your numb fingers.

In the next instant, you broke through the tree line, and you could see the ramp of the Razor Crest, closing. You slapped at your wrist blindly as you sprinted as fast as you could, lungs heaving to the point of seizures, legs at the point of collapse. You didn’t know if the dogs were still right behind you, but the grenades…

You must have finally hit the right command because the ramp suddenly shuddered before it started to lower again, and you were ten meters away when the grenades went off like dominoes falling.

The first two explosions—of the grenades you shoved into the jungle dog—only shook the ground hard enough to make you stumble forward, but then the rest of them detonated much closer, and the combined shockwave hit you moments later and catapulted you into the air.

Thankfully, the ramp was just low enough that you scraped over it and crashed into the ship, smashing into a bulkhead with a dull crunch. The howling shrieks of dying dogs reached you through the ringing in your ears, and you felt a wave of heat hit you as the grenades engulfed the jungle trees. You curled into a ball on the cargo bay floor, your back to the ramp, and you just barely had the presence of mind to tap at your wrist one last time. A moment later, you heard the whirling of the ramp closing, and when it clanked shut a moment later, you rolled over onto your back and stared blindly above you.

You could just barely hear the roar of the building wildfire outside the ship, and the screeching of the jungle dogs died down within seconds. Your entire body—your lungs, your heart—heaved up and down as adrenaline pulsed through you like a bad hit of spice, and your ears ached in the relative silence.

Then the child cooed, and Mando groaned weakly, and you jolted upright like you had just been struck by lightning.

“Mando,” you rasped, flipping over onto your raw hands and bruised knees.

The bounty hunter half-sat, half-sprawled on the floor at the foot of his bunk. The foundling’s pod lay askew on the ground in front of the fresher like it had crash landed there when it finally died, but the child stood unharmed beside the Mandalorian.

Who was currently bleeding out on the floor of the cargo bay.

“Kriff!” You scrambled forward when you saw the spreading stain of blood below his leg, and as you drew closer, you realized his tourniquet must have been loosened when he collapsed.        

The Mandalorian barely even seemed conscious at this point. His chest stirred only slightly beneath his beskar chest plate, and if it weren’t for the soft groans he was exhaling, you would have thought him dead.

“Mando!” you shouted as you shakily rose onto your feet and staggered the rest of the way to the fresher. Your hands were shaking as you tore one of the storage compartments open in search of a med kit, and your voice cracked when you said his name again. “Mando! Stay with me. We made it back. We’re on the ship. Just stay with me for a few more moments. Please.”

You crashed down onto your knees beside the bounty hunter, tearing the med kit open with bloody hands and broken nails. His helmeted head lolled onto the edge of the bunk behind him, and you could barely hear his raspy breaths through the modulator.

The child stood between Mando’s splayed boots, eyes large and frightened, but you couldn’t pay him any mind right now. Your frantic gaze darted between the bacta gel patch in your hand and Mando’s bleeding leg, and even though it felt crazy, you set the patch down for a moment and reached for the last vibroknife on your belt.

Suddenly, Mando jerked awake with a gasp, and you reached out without thinking, pressing your left palm over his heart and feeling his faint, fluttering pulse.

“Mando, I’m right here,” you murmured soothingly. “Keep breathing for me.”

The Mandalorian muttered your name as his head lolled toward you.

“Yes, that’s me, I’m here,” you said, rising up on your knees and leaning over him. The vibroknife glimmered in your hand, looking like a real-life glitch, but you shook off the unsettling feeling and fixed your eyes on Mando’s visor.

“Mesh’la,” the Mandalorian slurred. The word was soft and elongated to the point of sounding like gibberish, but his hand settled firmly on the wrist you still had pressed to his heart, like he was talking directly to you.

In any other situation, your own heart would be fluttering with a feeling you didn’t want to name, but as the bounty hunter’s blood started to soak into the knees of your pants, all you could feel was dread.

“I need you to stay still, okay?” you said as you dropped your hand from his chest to grip the top of his injured thigh. “I need to cut your pants away from the wound.”

“O… kay,” he muttered, and his hand fell to settle over yours again on his leg like he was grounding himself by touching you.

“Nice and easy,” you cooed, trying to blink the tears out of your eyes so you could see to cut through his pants and not his flesh. “I’ll have that bacta patch on in just a moment. Why don’t you talk to me, huh? Mando, talk to me. Tell me something. J-Just stay awake.”

“Aw…ake,” he whispered, but it sounded like he was just repeating you now, barely clinging to consciousness.

Your hand shook as you slowly sawed through the blood-soaked fabric, and an aborted sob rose in your throat. But you shoved your hysteria down, down, down, you had no time for it, you had to stay level-headed, steady-handed, Mando was counting on you, Mando was dying.

“Mando,” you choked as you finally pulled the cloth away from his wound. Three parallel gashes, each nearly five centimeters deep, ran from his hip crease and nearly all the way to his knee, and blood pulsed sluggishly from the wounds in crimson gobs. “Oh, Maker, Mando.”

You dropped the vibroknife with a loud clang as you lunged for the bacta patch, and out of your peripherals you could see the child waddling closer, standing in between the Mandalorian’s knees, the hem of his little robe slowly staining scarlet. You didn’t have the heart or the strength to shove the child away now, so instead you focused on settling the bacta patch over the bounty hunter’s grisly injuries.

Mando twitched and inhaled sharply as the bacta adhered to his skin, and you sent up a million prayers to the Maker that you had administered aid in time.

“There y-you go,” you sniffled, unable to stop the tears from coursing down your cheeks now. “I got the patch on, Mando. You’re going t-to be okay. You… you have to be okay. Do you hear me, Mando?”

You felt like a glitching holotape repeating his name over and over, but you couldn’t stop yourself. You wanted, no needed, him to stay awake, and every time you said his name, he seemed to jerk a little, like he’d been recalled from a long distance at the sound of your voice.

For a moment, there was only the faint, raspy wheeze of the Mandalorian’s breath through his helmet, but then he suddenly mumbled something.

“What?” You shuffled closer, slipping in blood. You practically had your ear pressed against his visor. “What was that, Mando? Say it again. Come on, talk to me, Mando.”

“Not… Mando.”

The words were stilted, sluggish, and you frowned in confusion. “Huh? I-I don’t understand.”

“My… name isn’t… Mando,” the bounty hunter struggled out, and his helmet tilted forward a fraction like he had lifted his head and was looking right at you. “It’s… Din. Din Djarin.”

The shock you felt was muted, distant and removed, like a crack that formed deep in the heart of a glacier, buried beneath the adrenaline, horror, and helplessness warring within you.

“Din,” you breathed, and the word somehow tasted like the exact moment Peli dug out your transmitter chip. It tasted like freedom, like infinite possibility, and you didn’t understand why.

Mando—no, Din, Din Djarin—exhaled heavily as his head thunked back against the bunk, and even if you couldn’t see it, you could tell his eyes were slipping closed. “I… wanted at least someone to know before I—”

“No,” you cut him off vehemently, reaching out to cradle the sides of his helmet like you were cupping his face. “No, you’re not going to die. Not now. Not when… no, do you hear me, Din Djarin? I will not allow you to die. Not when I worked my ass off to fix this ship and drag you back onto it by the skin of my kriffing teeth.”

“Mmmm.” Din’s head lolled in your grasp, the weight of him growing heavier and heavier. “I knew I would like the way… you say my name.”

Oh, Maker. He was nonsensical now, and terror gripped you by the throat and squeezed.

“Then stay awake, Din,” you begged, and your heart felt like it was on the edge of a great precipice. “Stay awake for me.”

“’m so… tired,” he sighed.

“I know,” you breathed as you guided his head back to rest against the bunk, and you couldn’t speak above a whisper because your voice was thick with tears. “I know, but just listen to my voice, Din. Just—”

You trailed off as the child suddenly waddled into your line of sight, and you dropped your gaze slightly to find him standing between the Mandalorian’s thighs, right next to the bacta covered wounds. The foundling stared up at the bounty hunter with a furrowed, seemingly determined expression, and then he closed his big brown eyes as he reached for Din’s leg.

“Oh, buddy, don’t,” you started, reaching out to stop him, but Din—Maker, his name felt delicious and forbidden even in your mind—weakly placed his hand on your wrist to stop you.

“It’s… okay,” he panted. “He can help.”

“Help?” You frowned down at the child. How could he help? Was this one of the “powers” the bounty hunter had vaguely mentioned before? You thought the foundling’s ability dealt with physically moving things, not healing, but honestly you could do for a miracle right about now.

The child gurgled a small noise as his three fingers settled over Din’s wound, and the Mandalorian inhaled sharply at the same time that you felt… something. You weren’t sure what it was, but it was like the very air shifted, became magnetic, charged somehow. The air stilled in your lungs as you feared even the barest breath would fracture this fragile spell you were bearing witness to, and you watched with wide eyes as the gashes on the bounty hunter’s legs began to close right in front of you.

Bacta worked fast… but not that fast.

Several still, endless seconds passed as the foundling healed the Mandalorian, but then just as soon as it began, the moment ended. The atmosphere snapped almost tangibly, time jolted back into motion, and the child suddenly started to pitch backward.

“Oh!” you gasped as you lunged forward, your hands cupping the baby and bringing him close to your body. The foundling’s eyes were closed, his face slack, but his little chest still moved up and down with breath.

“He’s okay.”

You snapped your head up, more tears spilling down your cheeks with the motion.

Din was sitting up a little straighter, and his helmet looked squarely at you. His voice sounded stronger, too, and you gaped at him in bewilderment.

“He’s okay,” the Mandalorian repeated when you continued to blink at him. “He usually… tires himself out when he uses his powers.”

“I d-didn’t know he could do that,” you breathed, and your tongue felt like a disembodied lump of flesh in your mouth. “I… wait, how do you feel? A-Are you okay?”

You suddenly realized how close you still were to the bounty hunter, practically kneeling in his lap, but you ignored this as your eyes darted back to his leg. It was a little hard to tell through the dried blood and blue bacta, but it looked like the three gashes had closed altogether, leaving behind faint pink lines.

“I’ll survive,” the bounty hunter sighed, thunking his head back against the bunk again, but he tilted it to the side to regard you still. “Thanks to you.”

“I-I’m not the one who just healed you with magic,” you stuttered incredulously as your cheeks flared hot, and you cuddled the child against your chest even though you realized you knew almost nothing about the apparently powerful foundling.

“No,” Mando said evenly, “but you did charge out into a dark, unknown, dangerous jungle, fight off a pack of wild dogs, and drag both me and the bounty back safely.”

“Well,” you snorted with an edge of hysteria in your voice, and you gestured to the discarded head that lay sprawled against the corner of the fresher. “I don’t know if I’d say he got here safely.”

Maker, you felt a little crazy, hollowed out and wrung dry by the sheer amount of emotions you’d just experienced in a span of a few minutes.

“I’m serious,” the Mandalorian replied. “You… saved my life. I am in your debt.”

“I-I’m not one for debts.” You shook your head to try and clear it, dropping your gaze to the foundling’s face, nuzzled against your sternum. “I don’t like to owe anyone or be owed. You’ve stuck your neck out for me before, so let’s just call it even… Din.”

You saw the bounty hunter freeze out of the corner of your eye, and you bit your cheek until you tasted blood.

You should have known that was too much to ask for.

“Sorry,” you muttered, peeking up at the Mandalorian through your lashes. “You… mentioned your name when you were—”

“I remember,” Mando said, cutting you off, but you couldn’t tell what he was thinking, his expression hidden as always and his voice pitched in a way you didn’t recognize, couldn’t identify.

“Right.” You cleared your throat, feeling the adrenaline starting to drain out of you and be replaced by every ache and pain you had ignored in lieu of survival. “Of course, I can just forget about it. You weren’t exactly in your right mind, after all. I’ll just… using ‘Mando’ is fine for me.”

The Mandalorian’s visor stared you down unflinchingly for what felt like an eternity. Then…

“You can… use my name, if you like,” he said haltingly, then quickly amended himself. “But only when we’re alone, on the ship. I… my name could be a dangerous thing in the hands of my enemies.”

You blinked in shock at the bounty hunter.

“A-Are you sure?” you asked, and you tried to keep the hope out of your voice, but you knew you failed miserably. “O-Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You’d thought giving up his name had just been a delusional, dying declaration, and you didn’t want him to regret it. What you said had been true enough. You were fine using “Mando,” even if the traitorous feelings buried deep in your chest said otherwise.

“I’m sure.” The bounty hunter nodded minutely. “I… trust you.”

The admission flooded your whole body with warmth, and goosebumps broke out across your skin. You’d known the Mandalorian trusted you, he wouldn’t have left his ship or his foundling in your care otherwise, but hearing him say the words felt like something out of a dream.

“Okay, then.” You smiled, heart thudding against where the child was pressed into your chest. “Din.”

At the sound of his name, the tension in the Mandalorian’s worn body seemed to bleed out of him entirely, and he sighed as his helmet fell back again.

“Let’s get off this Maker-forsaken planet,” he grumbled.

“I second that,” you chuckled dryly before you slowly clambered to your feet, careful not to slip in Din’s tacky blood or jostle the sleeping baby in your arms. You very gingerly leaned over the prone Mandalorian to set the foundling in his hammock, but you hissed when the movement jarred the bruised or fractured rib in your back.

“What’s wrong?” Din asked below you, and he was so close you could feel the rumble of his modulated voice against the bare skin of your stomach, your tank top having lifted up a fraction.

“Nothing.” You took a quick step backward, trying to put distance between you and the bounty hunter, but now that he was no longer actively dying, you were starting to realize you were a little more beat up then you’d previously thought.

The moment you stepped back on your right leg, your hamstring seized up, and when you went to grab at it, you realized your fingers were a little numb. You glanced down and saw fresh blood dripping down your forearm—your blood, not Mando’s—and the sight of the wound seemed to flip a switch in your brain because a moment later, pain crashed over you like a wave.

“Dank farrik,” Mando cursed lowly as he tried to shove himself up.

“No, no, no, no,” you babbled, holding out your less injured left hand in a gesture to stop him. “Don’t get up so fast.”

“You’re hurt,” he grunted, and you could practically hear the scowl in his voice as he tilted his helmet back to stare at you. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” you stressed, even though you could still taste blood on the back of your tongue. “Also, you seriously have no room to talk. You were literally just bleeding out less than five minutes ago.”

“How much bacta do we have left?” he asked, completely ignoring your statement. “We should take care of your injuries before they get any worse.”

“Maker, you’re not even listening to me, are you?” You rolled your eyes as you leaned your shoulder against the bulkhead, but when the Mandalorian started to get up again, you held your hand out once more. “Alright! Alright. Let me at least set the coordinates to meet up with the client and get the ship in the air. I’m pretty sure the jungle is burning down around us as we speak anyway, so the sooner we lift off, the better.”

Din stared up at you silently for a moment like he wanted to argue.

“It will take me two minutes, max,” you reasoned with him. “I won’t pass out or die in that time frame, okay?”

“Fine,” he finally sighed and dropped his chin to his chest. “Just… be careful climbing up there.”

“I’ll try my best,” you snorted, wincing when pain flared through your body, but you still slowly made your way to the ladder.

It took you way longer to climb five rungs than it should have, but you thought not falling back into the cargo bay was a feat in itself, given how every muscle in your arms and legs twitched in pain. The blood pouring down your arm also did nothing to help your grip, nor did your scraped up palms, but you still made it into the cockpit relatively unscathed.

Dawn was just breaking beyond the windows, but you could barely see it through the black smoke that hung thick in the air. Guilt sat heavy in your chest as you saw the charred trees and the birds fleeing the flames overhead, but you told yourself you did what you had to in order to survive.

And it wasn’t like you were walking away scot-free, either. Your arm pounded painfully in time with your slowing pulse, and every time you took a deep breath, you became a little surer that the rib in your back was, in fact, broken.

You punched in the client’s rendezvous coordinates without sitting in the pilot’s chair since you knew if you sat down now there was no way you were getting back up. While you waited for the Razor Crest to power up, you cringed at the blood you were dripping all over the floor, but there was nothing for it at this point. The whole ship would need a thorough scrub down the next time you made a pit stop, but that was a future-you problem. Right now, you were mainly focused on getting off this planetoid and out into orbit without crashing and burning.

You held your breath as the pre-Empire ship rose up above the now smoldering jungle, but no warning alarms or messages sounded. The Razor Crest glided steadily upward, and you leaned heavily on the control panel as you breeched first the clouds and then the atmosphere. Entering orbit rattled the ship and you more than you cared for, but nothing broke off or burst into flame, and before you knew it, you were drifting through the familiar black void of space.

“Thank the kriffing Maker,” you sighed as the autopilot took over, and then you turned and shuffled back to the ladder, exhaustion starting to make the edges of your vision go fuzzy.

Or maybe that was blood loss?

You were a little less graceful with the descent than you were with the ascent, but you at least landed on your feet before you nearly collapsed into the fresher.

“Careful,” Mando’s modulated voice murmured, and suddenly his bare hand was on your left, uninjured elbow, skin against warm skin.

“What are… you doing up?” You frowned as you studied the Mandalorian, trying to make sense of what you were seeing as he led you to sit in the open mouth of his bunk.

“I told you,” he said, reaching over and grabbing another med kit from the fresher. “We need to take care of your injuries before they get any worse.”

“You should be resting,” you grumbled, but you were too tired to put any real heat behind your voice.

“I’m fine,” Din parroted your earlier proclamation back at you. “The kid did a thorough job.”

Then the bounty hunter sat on a crate before you, a crate that hadn’t been there before, and you realized he was no longer wearing a majority of his beskar, save the ever-present helmet, of course. Instead, a faded but clean pair of duraweave clothes covered his body, and the bloodied outfit you’d basically sliced off him was piled up between his feet. It also looked like he had haphazardly tried to mop up some of his blood with the dirty clothes, and you wondered if you’d been up in the cockpit longer than you thought.

“Hey,” you chuckled suddenly, and you distantly noted that your voice was a little slurred with exhaustion. “Looks like I’ll have some new rags after all.”

You giggled a little loopily as you gestured to the Mandalorian’s blood-soaked clothes and then to the blood and dirt your outfit was also currently coated in, but Mando didn’t seem as amused as you were.

“Let me see your arm,” he said as his helmet stared at you impassively, but then he paused and added, “Please.”

“It’s really not that bad,” you tried to argue as you held out your injured limb, but since it was still actively dripping blood, your words didn’t carry much weight. Then the bounty hunter gingerly gripped your wrist with tentative fingers, and you hissed through your teeth as pain lanced up your arm.

“Osik,” Din cursed in a language you didn’t recognize, slowly rotating your arm to take in the extent of the damage. “Did one of those dogs get you? The bastard almost flayed you to the bone in some spots.”

“Yeah, well I shoved two grenades down his throat, so I think we’re even,” you gritted out.

Din froze and lifted his head, your blood, sweat, and dirt-streaked face reflecting back at you from his visor. “You what?” 

He must have really been on death’s door if he didn’t notice or remember you literally blowing the jungle dogs to Tatooine and back, but you just shook your head.

“Story time later,” you huffed, narrowing your eyes as you tried to breathe through the pain. “Bacta time now, please.”

“Right.” Mando jerked back into action, and in the next moment he was shifting into medic-droid mode.

Few words were shared between you two as the Mandalorian tended to your bumps and scrapes. Beside the deep lacerations on your forearm, your palms and knees were scraped bloody from tripping your way through a dangerous jungle in the dead of night. Your upper back was in the same condition since you’d been wearing a tank top when you decided to grapple with blood-thirsty hounds, and when Din accidentally brushed against your lower back, a small whimper squeezed out between your clenched teeth.

“This rib is probably broken,” the bounty hunter said, and there was a heavy quality to his quiet voice.

“Thought as much,” you grunted, trying to sit up straight without breathing too deeply. “Too bad we don’t have a full bacta tank to soak in.”

“I could always… drop you back off on Tatooine,” Mando muttered. “With the payment that I owe you, of course. Should be enough to pay for a full treatment and then some.”

You froze sitting there in the doorway of his bunk. The Mandalorian wasn’t looking at you, too busy double checking the bandage he’d wrapped over the bacta on your forearm, but you could see how rigid his body was as he awaited your answer.

“Do you… want to drop me back off on Tatooine?” you asked hesitantly, the breath shallow in your lungs. You could hear the child snoring softly in the hammock directly behind your head, and the thought of leaving him opened a dark pit inside you.

And that was nothing to say of the thought of leaving the Mandalorian. Of leaving… Din.

Now that you knew his name, the feelings you had done your best to ignore came surging up to the surface, that little voice whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

He told you his name. He trusts you. He wants you here. Maybe he wants you for more than just your skills.

You shoved the thoughts away as quickly as they cropped up, but that didn’t stop something small and fragile from unfurling in your chest. You almost wanted to call it hope.

“I—” Mando started, stopped, fidgeted on his crate, and then sighed as he scooted back a little to stretch out his injured leg. “No, I don’t want to do that. You’re a talented mechanic and… good company. I’ve… enjoyed having you on my crew.”

“Oh.” You blushed as the breath whooshed out of your lungs, leaving you feeling lightheaded and buoyant. “T-Thank you. Current circumstances notwithstanding, I’ve enjoyed being on your crew, too. A-And not just for the payment. Seeing new worlds, as dangerous as they are, was something I never thought I’d get to experience. So, even if the price to pay is a few bumps and scrapes, I think that’s a fair deal.”

“You have a skewed idea of ‘fair,’” the Mandalorian chuckled dryly as he reached down beside him, picked up a pair of his gloves, and slipped them back on.

“No kriff,” you snorted, the scar on the nape of your neck tingling. “But it works out in your favor, so I wouldn’t question it too much.”

“Fine.” Din held up his hands, but then he lowered them to his knees and cocked his head at you.

“What?” you asked when he didn’t say anything for a full minute. His gaze made your skin prickle even if you couldn’t see his eyes, and with each passing moment, you grew acutely more and more aware of how dirty and disheveled you looked and felt.

“Nothing,” he said, fingers flexing against his knees. “Just… thank you. Again. For saving me, the kid, the bounty, and the ship.” 

You fidgeted in discomfort. You didn’t know what to do with praise and compliments, having never really received them before, so you shrugged your shoulders as you picked at the bandage on your arm.

“I told you, we’re even,” you muttered.

“It doesn’t feel that way to me,” he argued, and something about his tone told you he wasn’t going to let this go. “So, how about this: after we drop off this bounty with the client, you can pick the next planet we stop on.”

“Really?” Your eyes flicked up to the bounty hunter and widened. He’d never let you pick a destination before. You’d always just been along for the ride.

Mando nodded. “And make a list of parts and stuff you need to keep the ship running. We’ll stock up wherever we stop off next.”

“Okay.” You grinned as your heart did a little jig in your chest, and you stuck out your bacta-wrapped hand to shake on it. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Din Djarin.”

His name rolled off your tongue like a grain of sand spiraling down a dune, picking up momentum as it went, and it sent a shiver of pleasure straight down your spine. You knew you were playing a losing game with your own heart here, but as you stared into Mando’s visor, you also knew there was no stopping yourself now. You would just have to deal with the future heartbreak.  

The Mandalorian tentatively reached out and grasped your fingers in his gloved ones.

“Deal,” he rumbled back.

“Good.” You nodded as a yawn cracked open your jaw, and you reached up to cover your gaping mouth and scratch your nose. “Now, given the client’s rendezvous coordinates, we should have a few days of rest before we reach our destination, and if you don’t mind, I think I’m going to start right now by taking a well-deserved nap.”

You made to stand up, but Din gently placed his hand on your shoulder to keep you seated on the edge of the bunk.

“Take the cot,” he said as he nodded behind you. “I’m going up to the cockpit to send a message to the client anyway.��

“Are you sure?” you murmured around another yawn.

“I’m sure,” he said, but then his gloved fingers were suddenly ghosting over the bridge of your nose. “By the way, you’ve got a little grease right here. Just thought you should know.”

You went cross-eyed as you tried to draw his finger into focus, but when he stepped back, you noticed the fingertips of his glove were shiny, and glancing down at the hand you used to shake his revealed that your palm bore the same black sheen.

“Hey, this is your grease,” you muttered indignantly, but then Din was pressing gently on your shoulder, guiding you to lay back on the cot, and you went willingly.

“Get some rest,” he said, turning off the bunk lights. “We’ll worry about cleaning up later.”

You tried to grumble something, but exhaustion was starting to tug at your limbs and eyelids, and your body unwound bit by bit as you buried your face in the bounty hunter’s pillow with no remorse.

A moment later, Mando’s boots were clomping up the ladder to the cockpit, but he left some of the cargo bay lights on and the door to the bunk open, like he somehow knew you were afraid of the dark.

The beginnings of a smile tugged at your lips, but you spiraled into sleep before you could fully process the thought.

[might-be-a-zygon]

Ohhhh Thasmin and "are you kidding me?! you're not 'fine'!" OR River/13 and "i can't believe i almost lost you

This one got away from me a little, I’ll admit. It’s pretty angsty and features a lot of (canon) character death, so fair warning on that one.

I’ll add an AO3 link in the reblogs!

---

The Ghosts That Broke My Heart

Sleep had always been a funny thing for the Doctor.  She certainly needed a lot less of it than her human friends, but it had always been a reliable break from whatever life chose to throw at her that week. She had dreams, like everyone did, but there was one thing which the Doctor didn’t really do.

She didn’t have nightmares.

Really, what would she have them about? The Doctor faced the creatures of nightmares every day. To some species, the Doctor was a creature of nightmares.

Still, after what had happened on Gallifrey? She’d found the creatures that could jolt her awake screaming.

Ghosts.

Whatever she’d done to overload the matrix had broken centuries of carefully constructed barriers, holding back the people she’d lost, and now her mind saw fit to make her relive each dark moment whenever she let her guard down to try and sleep.

It had started out right away- that first night in the Jadoon prison she’d laid down on the slab that passed for a bed, and closed her eyes to sleep.

“What does that mean?”

Jenny was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, all wide-eyes and excited smiles. The Doctor could recognise a lot of her own nervous energy in the young woman- ready to go off and explore the brave new world that awaited them. She also saw the gunman poised to take all that away in a moment.

It was like she was watching through thick glass. Poised on the sidelines, watching her past selves getting it all wrong over and over, but helpless to interfere. She slammed her palm against it, sending a too-real shooting pain through her arm, but making no audible sound.

“It means a new world.”

Sandshoes was grinning now, more genuine hope than she could ever really remember feeling shining in those eyes. He’d burned in the end- she remembered that much. He’d been angry. Vengeful.

The Timelord Victorious.  

How different might things have been if he’d just turned around? The Doctor tried to speak, to shout for him to get her out of the way. Her voice didn’t make a sound.

She watched the happiness melt from Jenny’s face, even as Sandshoes maintained his stupid, complacent grin. The Doctor was pounding on the glass now, silently screaming that it wasn’t worth it, but of course she couldn’t change it. Jenny shoved Sandshoes out of the way, the bullet striking her square in the chest. Martha- brilliant Martha who she’d never once deserved- she knew right away there was no chance. She watched her past-self hold their dying daughter, and tell her of a future she’d never see, already knowing she was beyond saving. Lies had always fallen too easily from her tongue.

“You’re gonna be amazing, you hear me, Jenny?”

Had she even heard?

 That first night, when she woke with a whine, curled up into a tight ball on her uncomfortable prison bed, the Doctor had attributed it to stress. She’d jumped haphazardly from Byron, to the cybermen, to Gallifrey, to prison with no time to clear her head. The Master always did funny things to her mind, anyway, it was normal there’d be some aftereffects.

Her hand ached from where she’d been slamming it into the ‘bed’.

She tried to shake the traitorous vision of Jenny- bright, young Jenny with so much potential sacrificing herself for the father she hardly knew. The father who would go on to do so much damage.

Against her better judgement, she’d turned over, and tried to get to sleep again. It was the last time she made that mistake.

 The first thing the Doctor heard this time, was screaming.

She was on a ship, which certainly wasn’t her TARDIS. It took her a minute to recognise the place- but, maybe that made the whole thing even worse. Somebody was screaming for her help, and she couldn’t even remember who it was.

She stood there, behind whatever barrier her mind had constructed to stop her interfering, and watched the doddering old fool she’d been back then just stand there while a good woman was in trouble just feet away. She could have reopened the airlock doors- she’d known how- but she’d been so desperate to look for a way around it, that she’d left Katarina there screaming.

“Change course.” The Doctor in front of her finally ordered. “Take him back to Kembel. Take him back to Kembel! Let the Daleks deal with him.”

In that moment the Doctor looked into her own eyes and saw a spark of that ruthless fire which would one day burn galaxies. It was that same fire that made her risk tearing time apart for Clara Oswald- the fire that burned too brightly. If she was feeling generous, she might have called it admirable, that she was willing to fight so unbelievably hard for the people she loved.

Right now, she called it selfishness.

Steven stepped towards the old Doctor, his anger doing a poor job at masking his fear. “Yes, and us!”

“Don't worry, dear boy, We'll find a way out.” The Doctor cringed at her first face (or, the first face she remembered), while standing in her glass prison. Her methods of comfort hadn’t come on any in three thousand years. She was still a liar.

Both of the men who’d been with her bck then had been afraid. Bret had even tried arguing with her, but the Doctor had never been an easy person to argue with.

“I can't sacrifice everything for the sake of that one girl.” He argued, still at the controls. Luckily, she was spared the embarrassment of having to watch her former self argue by Steven stepping in.

“Listen! Without us you wouldn't have got off Kembel at all, and nothing would be worth bothering about!”

“All right, so we all go back together. But without me, I doubt that you would have got this far either.” Bret had given in quickly enough, and all the while the Doctor just stood and watched, and listened to Katarina’s frightened screaming in the airlock.

She watched as Katarina broke free and hit the release for the airlock. She watched as both her and Kirksen were sucked out into space. She watched, and knew that that girl- that girl who was so brave in the face of so much danger- had sacrificed herself so the three of them could get away.

Her hearts ached, as she thought of a dozen ways she could have saved her, if she’d tried harder.

“She wanted to save our lives and perhaps the lives of all the other beings of the Solar System.” The old Doctor in front of her began to make his silly speech, and the Doctor turned away, revolted at her own self-importance. “I hope she's found her Perfection. Oh, how I shall always remember her as one of the Daughters of the Gods. Yes, as one of the Daughters of the Gods.”

Rule one.

She hadn’t thought about Katarina in centuries. That poor, brave woman, who had made the ultimate sacrifice to keep them all alive, and the Doctor hadn’t even bothered to remember her.

 The Doctor had awoken, still curled up on that cold stone slab, unable to shake the revulsion at her own actions. Was she still like that man? So pompous as to think that every being in the universe made their decisions based around her.

She hadn’t tried to sleep again, after that, shifting to lay on her back, staring at the celling, and trying to shake what somewhere, deep down, she knew.

There were very, very good reasons, she was in prison.

 At first, it was always death. Faces she’d remembered, and ones she’d long since forgotten, all meeting their end because the Doctor had failed to save them.

 “It snapped my neck, Sir. It wasn’t as painless as I expected, but it was pretty quick, so that was something.”

Angel Bob.

The Doctor had forgotten all about Angel Bob. He was young, and clever, and he was so scared, and she had just walked away and forgotten all about him, as though he’d never even existed.

She could see the look on the faces of the others- the muted horror on River’s, and the more pronounced look of it on her mother’s, as well as the well-managed grief of the soldiers who’d fought with him. They were all ghosts, now. Amy, River, the soldiers. All blown away like smoke on the wind.

“If you’re dead how can I be talking to you?” She tried not to think about the genuine interest her former self’s voice held in that moment- a man had just died, and Bowtie was curious about the mechanics.

“You’re not talking to me, Sir. The angel has no voice. It stripped my cerebral cortex from my body and reanimated a version of my consciousness to communicate with you. Sorry about the confusion.”

She tried her absolute best not to think too hard about how conscious the original Bob was at that moment. Had he known what had happened to him? Had he felt the angels turn him into their puppet?

She watched as Bowtie told them all to run- to run into the maze of weeping angels with no plan, and to just trust him, and she watched as he stopped behind to defend himself.

“Yes, I called you an idiot, and I’m sorry-“ He didn’t sound sorry at all, but the Doctor in her glass cage watching it play out certainly was, “But I couldn’t have saved your men.”

“I know that, Sir. And when you’ve flown off in your little blue box, I’ll explain that to their families.”

She watched, sick to her stomach, as Bowtie smirked.

 “I’ll have to tell his mother.”

Seeing Rose, even after all this time, was still painful. This was only the second day they’d met, back before they’d travelled together.  Before she’d managed to soften the war ravaged Doctor standing in front of her now.

The Ears had been one of her shortest lived, and angriest faces, and the ways he’d treated people were downright cruel at times. She saw the questioning look he gave Rose, clueless in the face of Mickey’s apparent demise, and why she’d be at all upset.

Why Rose hadn’t walked away then and there would forever be a mystery to the Doctor. She’d never once deserved that kind of love.

“Mickey” I’ll have to tell his mother he’s dead, and you just went and forgot him, again! You were right, you are alien.”

Alien didn’t have to mean cruel, though. So why did callousness seem to come so easily to her? Maybe it was just the sheer amount of death she’d witnessed, but it still hurt to see. She had to keep reminding herself that this death, at least, hadn’t been real- that Mickey was alive and living on earth, raising a son with his dad’s eyes and his mum’s brains who’d have the whole world talking in a few years.

At least it was a good reminder of why she was staying away from August Smith.

“Look, if I did forget some kid called Mickey-“

“Yeah, he’s not a kid-“

The Ears cut Rose off before she could keep speaking, but the Doctor watching from the side-lines found herself nodding in agreement. Rose was right. Of course Rose was right.

“It’s because I’m busy trying to save the life of every stupid ape blundering about on top of this planet! Alright?”

“Alright!”

“Yes, it is!” Ears sounded insufferably smug.

The Doctor shook her head in disgust, glancing at Rose and quietly muttering, “Why did you ever put up with me?”

 “Look out!”

It was another voice she hadn’t heard in a long time, and one she’d frankly been dreading hearing. If Nyssa was here she had a good idea of what she was about to see. She saw the cybermen coming up behind her back, while her fifth-self fumbled with the controls. It was as good as useless.

A cyberman lumbered up behind her, and her past-self ignored it completely, leaving Nyssa to have to shoot it down with a discarded cyberweapon. She was once again saved by a more competent friend, and her own hypocrisy when it came to guns.

She wasn’t sure she’d ever even thanked Nyssa for saving her life.

“I must save Adric!”

Stuck in the corner, exhausted and emotionally drained, the Doctor was just glad that, while she was having to watch another of her failures, this version of herself was at the very least trying.

“Look!”

“Adric.”

The screen came to life, and the Doctor tried to shut her eyes so she wouldn’t have to watch, but of course it didn’t work- in her dreams she wouldn’t be allowed to block out the parts she didn’t want to see. The only consolation was that she wouldn’t have to look him in the eyes.

She’d always been cowardly like that.

She watched as the ship began to come apart- watched as Tegan and Nyssa held each other, and Celery just stood there gawping like a fish who couldn’t believe his own incompetence.

She still remembered that feeling- like someone had clawed the hearts out of her chest and shown them to her. Back then, it’d been such a long time since she’d really lost someone that she wasn’t used to the pain of it anymore.

When had she become careless enough that death just bounced off of her?

 It only took ten days of reliving her worst moments before the Doctor had begun actively fighting sleep. Prison, at least, was a safe enough place to do it. She’d pace her cell at night to keep herself from drifting off- reciting books she knew by heart, or just talking to herself to keep her eyes from closing for too long. During the day, she’d do the same- chatting to the other prisoners, pacing, never letting herself remain still for fear of finally giving into the exhaustion which seemed to have seeped into her bones.

Of course, even a Time Lord (if she could even call herself one anymore), couldn’t stay awake forever. After weeks of forcing her eyes to stay open, she’d eventually collapse, usually when she was in her cell, if she was lucky, and she’d endure another walkthrough her past- too exhausted to even wake up- before being woken by the prison systems to begin all over again.

After a while she’d slip into waking dreams, too exhausted to even think straight. She’d sit in her cell, nutrient block in hand, while her sleep deprived mind played out snippets of her life, a few seconds at a time, while she fought to wake up enough to dismiss the visions.

 At first, when she next saw herself- sitting on a bench, eating chips, she thought maybe this was just her mind crying out for some real food. It was easy to forget the specifics of what had been discussed all those years before, after twenty years sitting in a cell.

“She scares me.” Came Bill’s voice from next to the older-Doctor, quiet in its honesty. Admitting you were scared was something so few people ever did- least of all when they were around the Doctor, and being brave was so important, but Bill had never been afraid to admit it to her. She’d been strong like that. “Like. She really scares me.”

As much as she still, after all this time, wanted the Master to be everything she knew he could be, it was hard to deny how right Bill had been to be afraid. After all- it was the Master who’d handed her over to the cybermen, in the end, just not the version she’d feared.

“Okay. Just, promise me one thing, yeah? Just promise you won’t get me killed.”

“I can’t promise you that!” Eyebrows had laughed at her, as though her concerns were something flippant. As though her fear was something worth laughing at. He’d been right, in the end, he hadn’t been able to keep Bill alive, but it was horrible looking back at it now.

The Doctor had managed to shock herself back into reality, but she hadn’t been able to shake the self-contempt that settled in her hearts.

 Most of the time, those waking nightmares came while she was stuck sitting around, waiting for the time to come that she’d be allowed out into her tiny cube of the exercise yard, just for something to break up the routine of sitting alone, and thinking about death.

 “I keep remembering all the people I’ve killed. Every day I think of more. Being bad- Being bad drowned that out. I didn’t know I even knew their names. You didn’t tell me about this bit.”

“I’m sorry, but this is good.”

“Okay.”

The Doctor watched herself hold her self-ascribed goodness over her oldest friend, and couldn’t help but wonder if this wasn’t what had driven the Master to the depths of madness he’d displayed on Gallifrey. She might have lorded it as a good thing back then, but she was quickly learning the types of things that isolation, imprisonment, and guilt could do to the mind. If she got out of prison with her sanity, she’d count it a blessing.

 She’d dreamt about Missy a lot, after a while. The longer she stayed locked up, the more her guild-addled mind saw fit to remind her of her stint as jailor.

On those nights she was too exhausted to keep her eyes open, the Doctor saw herself through the glass again. It was her twelfth face- well, the twelfth she remembered- the one with the angry eyebrows and the trusting nature. She saw Missy standing there, looking more dishevelled than she had before the vault, standing so close to the forcefield that it was rippling. She looked strangely earnest despite the pantomime of madness she put o- as though she was proud of herself for actually helping.

She watched as Eyebrows shoved Bill back away from Missy, not seeming to care much about how what had just transpired had clearly affected her. She’d never been good enough for Bill- the kind, inquisitive girl who’d gone out of her way to buy the Doctor Christmas presents and who’d called her grandad, and who she’d promised she wouldn’t get killed. Bill who had been so strong, who had fought off the monks and the cybermen by sheer force of will. Bill who’d deserved so much more than what the Doctor had given to her.

She watched Eyebrows walk up to that rippling forcefield, and look his oldest friend in the eyes like she was still the monster she pretended to be.

“Even if that was the truth the fact that you’re suggesting it shows that there’s been no change. No hope. No point.”

Eyebrows sounded angry, and the Doctor winced slightly at that. How was the Master ever supposed to change with the Doctor constantly telling her that her progress meant nothing? Was that why she’d given up in the end? It had to be easier to go back to what you’d known before rather than being constantly strung along and put down by someone who had promised to help you become better.

Missy’s face contorted for a moment. The Doctor left her here for months, all alone in this dusty room with almost nothing, and then he’d turned up just to talk to her like this? Her Twelfth face was one of the few she’d always thought of as good- or, if not good, at least kind. Sandshoes had been angry from the war and from everything he’d lost, but Eyebrows had tried so hard to be kind. Was this really what her version of kind did to people?

After her own stint in prison, leaving Missy trapped like this for so long was beginning to seem more and more cruel. She’d wanted to help people, she really had, but it wasn’t as though her friend had come to her and asked. She’d saved her, and then abused that power, keeping her prisoner for decades to try and make her into something she’d never tried to be. It was hard, knowing what had later become of the Master, not to wonder what all that time in the vault had done to their already fragile mental state.  How much had she contributed to his snapping and destroying their home?

Looking at it like that how was the Doctor any better than the Jadoon? And how was Missy running off with the Master much different from her running with Jac They’d both been escaping jailors who kept them confined alone for long enough to drive them half-mad.

“We don’t sacrifice people.” The scene playing out in front of her was hardly easy, but the Doctor laughed anyway, because the irony of that wasn’t lost on her. She’d let so many people die for her as Rainbows that Eyebrows’ words felt hollow. “It’s wrong because it’s easy.”

“Back in the day I’d burn an entire city to the ground just to see the pretty shapes the smoke made. I’m sorry your plus one doesn’t get a happy ending, but like it or not I just saved this world because I want to change.”

There was a forced lightness to Missy’s voice, almost undetectable unless you really knew her well- and the Doctor knew her better than anybody. It’d been a cry for help, of sorts- she’d wanted her friend back, and Eyebrows had ignored her. She’d saved the world- the Doctor would have likely spent months searching for infected water supplies and food chains following up his own stupid theories, and Missy had told him the answer freely, and without reward. She’d saved the world and he’d told her there was no hope for her- no wonder she’d run.

“Your version of good is not absolute.” She continued, her fingers pushing slightly against the forcefield now. The Doctor watched it ripple from behind he own glass patrician, and she knew the look in Missy’s eyes far too well. If that forcefield had been replaced with glowing blue bars it could have been her in her own cell. At least during her imprisonment she hadn’t had to live with the knowledge that her oldest friend was her jailor. “It’s vain, arrogant, and sentimental.”

Vain, arrogant and sentimental.

She always had said the Master knew her soul a little too well.

 Once the spectre of death faded, somewhat, it was her own shortcomings her subconscious decided to force onto her. Those moments when she’d forced others into complying with what she’d wanted- as though that was always her decision to make.

She was the Doctor, after all. Who would ever dare to question her whims as anything less than genius?

 “You know you can fix that chameleon circuit if you just tried hot-wiring the fragment links and superseding the binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary binary-“

Not this. Not Donna. How was this fair? At least with Jenny she hadn’t seen the gunman. She could see it in her past-self’s face that he knew this was killing her, and he was just standing there like an idiot, watching it happen. He could have stepped in sooner.

“I’m fine.” Donna was showing off that big grin, back to talking a mile-a-minute. The Doctor had always wondered if on some level she knew what this would do. She had all of that knowledge inside her head, it must have been somewhere in her all along that she’d become an impossible thing.

She didn’t pound on the glass or scream this time, watching her own past unfold with her hand pressed up against it. She mouthed I’m sorry, but no sound came out.

“I bet he’s great, Charlie Chaplin. Shall we do that? Shall we go see Charlie Chaplin? Shall we? Charlie Chaplin. Charlie Chester. Charlie Brown- no he’s fiction-“ She watched as Donna pranced around, playing with the console and the phone. This wasn’t quite Donna- not really. This Donna was far too Doctor- maybe that was why she found it so unsettling, seeing her charming, funny, irreverent friend talking like someone she hated.

“Friction, fiction, fixing, mixing, Rickston, Brixton-“ Donna cut off with a gasp, and the Doctor wanted to slap Sandshoes for leaving her in this state. She had to be scared, and he wasn’t even bothering to explain it to her. Of course, with that much of the Doctor’s mind burning through her own, Donna had probably understood it all already, but there was still something to be said for compassion in a situation as horrific as this one.

“I was gonna be with you forever.” The sadness in Donna’s eyes spoke volumes. She’d trusted the Doctor so much, had so much planned for them, and it was all the Doctor’s fault.

If her hearts hadn’t already shattered they did now. Nobody ever stayed with her forever- not really. Even if she wanted them to, she’d always destroy them before they got a chance.

She was on the floor, kneeling on the dirty floor of a TARDIS she’d long since tried to forget. When had that happened?

“I know.”

She screwed her eyes shut, grateful that this time, at least, she managed to block out the visuals- maybe because this time, the sound of Donna begging for something the Doctor was too selfish to give her was enough. She wouldn’t watch Sandshoes lie to her like that- like he’d lied to Jenny, and to Bob, and to Steven. Pretty words to ease the pain she was about to put her through.

“I can’t go back. Doctor. Please. Please don’t make me go back.”

Listening to her beg wasn’t any easier than watching it. Or living it- especially now she knew just how painful it was to have your memories taken from you. Gallifrey may have erased her path, but she’d run roughshod over her friend’s mind just as carelessly.

“Donna Noble. I am so sorry. But we had the best of times.” Was that supposed to make either of them feel better? She’d been so self-righteous back then. The Doctor opened her eyes again, and regretted it almost immediately, curling in on herself behind her little partition. “Goodbye.”

“No. No! No please! No. No! No!”

 Staying awake proved easier once she’d left prison.

During her incarceration, it had only been the thought of getting home to her fam which had really kept her going, so having Yaz back at her side was a real boost to her mood, which kept those waking nightmares at bay.

The running helped too- adrenaline in her system keeping the more dangerous effects of her sleep-deprivation at bay. Still, it didn’t mean that nights didn’t come where she came down from that high of finally being able to help again, and her tiredness came crashing down on her like a crushing weight.

This time, it came after a particularly harsh day.

She was getting sloppy in her exhausted state, and that sloppiness had put Yaz in far greater danger than she’d ever wanted to risk again. She’d told herself, that after the cybermen, and the daleks, she’d be more careful, but then all of a sudden there they were, stuck in a trap she should have been able to spot, if she was thinking clearly.

They’d been held hostage for longer than she was willing to admit- some scrapper who was very keen on getting hold of the TARDIS- not that he really knew what it was or what significance it held. No, for this man the greatest ship in the universe was worth some spare parts, and whatever the scrap value of its base components was.

They’d gotten out, in the end, but it wasn’t as though she could even take credit for that- it was quick thinking on Yaz’s part which had distracted their attacker for long enough for them to get to the TARDIS. As impressive as it was, it was still terrifying to see Yaz be so like her in the way she acted. The last person who’d wanted to be the Doctor had gotten killed trying to do so.

She’d hardly said a word once they returned to the ship, trying her best to ignore the furtive looks of concern she kept getting. She slipped off to the library alone when Yaz went to make a cup of tea, getting there on her fourth attempt (since the TARDIS seemed insistent on placing her room behind every door she opened), and counting on the near-infinite nature of the TARDIS rooms to hide her for a while. She needed a little space while she cleared her head and tried to get rid of some of the overwhelming guilt that was eating her up inside.

She could have gotten Yaz killed today with her carelessness. If Yaz wasn’t as good as she was, she would have gotten them both killed.

No matter what horrors from her past her brain decided to drudge up, a world without Yaz was still a terrifying thought.

 “I’m not asking you for a promise. I’m giving you an order.”

She really didn’t want to see this.

The Doctor had not gotten her memories back just so she could watch Clara Oswald face the raven all over again. Even in prison her mind hadn’t been cruel enough to remind her of that particular death. She remembered the others- Oswin, and the governess she’d met in London, and a hundred other Clara’s who’d died to save her- but this one had never come up.

Evidently, her subconscious thought she needed a reminder of what happened when she took her eyes off things for a moment too long.

“You will not insult my memory. There will be no revenge. I will die, and no one else here, or anywhere, will suffer.”

Well there was a promise the Doctor hadn’t managed to keep. She’d tried to tear time itself apart to save Clara, and worst of all, she’d never even known if it succeeded. Testimony didn’t remember whether Clara had lived or died- it’d been taken the moment before the raven hit- before the Doctor had tried to pull her from her timeline. She had no memory of anything that’d happened with Clara after this, and while she knew they’d been together on Gallifrey, she didn’t know how permanent that salvation might be, or what about it had taken her memories to begin with.

“What about me?” Eyebrows asked, and the Doctor who was watching him managed a harsh, bitter laugh. Clara was dying, and as usual her former self was there to be selfish and make her comfort him.

“If there was something I could do about that I would. I guess we’ll both just need to be brave.”

“Clara-“ He was trying to argue again, but all at once she was pulling him into a hug, and looking at the desperation of it from the outside, the Doctor just knew that Clara was trying to pull some comfort from it too, since Eyebrows hadn’t been offering her any.

She’d been human, and she’d been dying, and she’d been scared, but she’d forced herself to be brave so her friend didn’t have to be.

Looking back on it, Clara had always been so much stronger than the Doctor had ever been.

“Don’t run.” It had to be the first time she’d ever said that to one of her friends in a bad spot. “Stay with me.” Eyebrows was practically begging her now. Worse than that, the Doctor knew that if she had to go back and do it again, she wouldn’t be any stronger.

“Nah.” She could see how heard Clara was working to keep her tone casual, not wanting to hurt the Doctor any more than this whole thing already would. It was heart breaking, really, knowing that even in her final moments she’d had to suppress her own feelings to try and save her pain. “You stay here. In the end everybody does this alone.”

She shouldn’t have had to do it alone.

“Clara-“ Eyebrows tried again, and if the Doctor wasn’t stuck in her self-imposed cell, she might have hit him. This was his last chance- why couldn’t he say something to her? Why couldn’t he make sure that she died knowing how deeply she was loved.

“This is as brave as I know how to be. I know it’s gonna hurt you but- please. Be a little proud of me?”

There was a hopeful note to Clara’s tone despite everything, and in the end that was what really broke the Doctor. Her hand was pressed against the glass, desperate to say something, but unable to- the sands of time separated them more surely than the glass ever could.

“Always.” She promised, because if Eyebrows wouldn’t say it, then this new Doctor would. “I’m always gonna be proud of you.”

Clara turned away from her, and walked towards her grave.

 “No no no no…”

The Doctor’s eyes blinked open, giving her a hazy view of the warm purple walls of the TARDIS library. She was curled up in one of the armchairs near the fire, her eyes still heavy with sleep. How long had it been since she’d last slept? Weeks, at least. Maybe months. And since she’d last slept properly? Well that had been decades.

Her hands ached from where she’d been clutching onto the arms of the chair.

Her eyes were already falling closed again, too exhausted to even force herself to stay awake.

 “If you die here it’ll mean I never even met you.”

She’d never really appreciated how true that statement was. Without the Doctor blundering through her mother’s life, River Song would never have existed. Melody Williams (would she even have been called Melody, with the paradox of her name?) would have grown up safe and happy, the human daughter of the journalist and the nurse. She’d have had a normal life. She’d have been raised by loving parents, and have had a happy childhood, and maybe even brothers and sisters- maybe she’d have still written books, or taught archelogy, and had a much happier marriage than theirs had been.

Melody Pond would have been so much better off if she had never met the Doctor.

“Time can be rewritten.” For once, she seemed to be in agreement with Sandshoes. He was selfish, but at least he’d have been doing her a favour.

“Not those times. Not one line. Don't you dare. It's okay. It's okay. It's not over for you. You'll see me again. You've got all of that to come. You and me, time and space. You watch us run.”

Live great lives. That’s what she’d told her fam. If anyone had lived up to that, and lived a great life despite the Doctor’s meddling, it had been River Song. They’d had some amazing times, saved so many people, so many planets. There were stars out there still burning because River Song had been there to save them.

If the Doctor had found a better way around getting the people out of there, there might have been so many more.

The computer counting down the seconds left of her life in the background wasn’t helping the way that the Doctor’s hearts were pounding. She was crying, now- she wasn’t sure when that had begun.

From her cell, she watched Sandshoes babble on about his guilt- his suspicions, being expertly put down by River. She was so used to shutting him up when he was talking about things he didn’t know anything about- she could really use that, right now.

She should have saved her.

“Hush now. Spoilers…”

River smiled, and the Doctor lunged at the glass in front of her, shouting words that even she could barely comprehend. She was still clawing desperately at the glass when the room flashed bright white.

 The Time Lord didn’t even fully wake that time, despite having thrown herself onto the floor at some point during her anguish. She was barely drawn out of her nightmares for a moment, a noise that sounded awfully like a whimper escaping her. Her eyes were shut too-tightly, and she had her arms wrapped tightly around herself, fingernails digging into her arms as though that would protect her from the horrors of her own mind.

 “Who decides they’re so unimportant? You?”

The Doctor knew where she was this time without even looking up. Somehow, this scared her even more. She wasn’t watching a loved one die, she was watching her own stupid power-play blow up in her face. This hadn’t been a mercy mission, it’d been her trying to prove to the whole Universe that the Doctor had power over all.

“For a long time now I thought I was just a survivor, but I’m not. I’m the winner- that’s who I am. The Time Lord victorious.”

“And there’s no one to stop you?”

“No.”

“This is wrong, Doctor. I don’t care who you are. The Time Lord victorious is wrong.”

Captain Adelaide. She’d been so brilliant- she’d understood more about this than her idiot younger self ever could. The Doctor just about managed to give her a smile from behind her glass wall before she resumed staring at Sandshoes in disgust.

“That’s for me to decide. Now, you better get home.”

It was chilling. Watching her old face shift so quickly. Darkness turned cocky in an instant as he pointed his sonic at the door. Unlike with the other dreams, The Doctor wasn’t shouting. She didn’t try to say a word, just watched on with self-loathing and dread weighing down her hearts. A silent spectator of her darkest moment since the Time War.

Sandshoes smirked at that brave, doomed woman, challenging her to argue her fate further. He’d set himself up as a self-styled God. “Oh it’s all locked up- you’ve been away. Still, that’s easy.”

“Is there nothing you can’t do?”

“Not anymore.”

She watched as the great Time Lord Victorious turned his back on Adelaide. She watched as the captain drew her gun. She braced herself for that flash of blue light and the thud of a body hitting the floor.

“Don’t do it, Adelaide.” She was talking to nobody, but she still couldn’t help herself trying to butt in- trying to fix the damage she hadn’t noticed until it was too late. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t-“

 “Doctor?”

A hand on her shoulder drew her out of there before she had to watch that, jolting her awake. She came to, immediately caught off guard by the shadow of someone standing over her, and the scent of a familiar perfume hitting her. It took her a moment or so to place it, but when she did her hearts picked up a little. Yaz. Brilliant, wonderful, human Yaz who’d probably just heard her rambling all sorts of scary nonsense in her sleep.

“Doctor are you alright?”

The Doctor swallowed a little too hard and sat up quickly enough to make her head spin, forcing a familiar, false grin to spread across her face. Her body was aching from sleeping on the wooden floor, and she was pretty sure she was going to be bruised from where she’d fallen off the chair.

“Yaz! Yasmin Khan- Sorry, must have nodded off-“ Her voice sounded a little false even to her own ears, and she did her best to pass it off with a yawn.

“Sorry, just, you were talkin’ in your sleep an’ I thought-“ Yaz looked a little sheepish about waking her, and her eyes were full of concern.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry- Time Lord. Vivid dreams- I was…” She forced another yawn, trying to give herself time to think of a lie. “Did I ever tell you about the time I met a real life siren on a pirate ship? That was a good one, that. Dream about that one a lot. M’fine, though. Really.”

Yaz shot her a look that showed she didn’t believe the Doctor for a moment. There was a beats pause, before she exploded

“Are you kiddin’ me?! You’re not ‘fine’!” She drew air quotes around that last word, straightening up, to stand over the Doctor, showing she was serious.

“I’m-“

“I swear if you say ‘fine’ I’m gonna-”

The Doctor shut her mouth before Yaz could finish the threat.

There was a tense moment, almost like a standoff between the two of them, before Yasmin’s hard eyes softened, and she bent down to help the Doctor to her feet.

“I’m worried about y’.”

Suppressing her initial urge to insist that she was fine, the Doctor bit her lip.

“You shouldn’t be.” She eventually managed.

“When was the last time ‘y slept?” Yaz asked.

“About a minute ago.” The Doctor tried to make a joke. Yaz laughed weakly.

“Before that.” She clarified, glancing at the floor where she’d found the doctor collapsed.

“…I don’t remember.” The Doctor admitted.

Yaz sucked in a surprised breath through clenched teeth.

“Doctor-“

“I’m not human. I don’t need as much sleep as you lot.”

Raising an eyebrow, Yaz gave her another of those easy, disbelieving looks. “And that’s why I found you passed out on the floor cryin’?”

The Doctor blinked, bringing her hand up to her face. Sure enough, she’d been crying- she hadn’t even realised. Waking up with tears in her eyes was just normal by now.

“What’s so bad that it’s keepin’ you up?” Yaz leant forwards, taking one of the Doctor’s hands in both of her own. “Please don’t lie to me.”

There was an earnestness in her eyes that reminded the Doctor of all the people she’d loved most. Rose, Amy, River, Clara. Even Koschei. She’d always liked the people who could be honest with her the best- she needed honest people to stop her tearing herself apart and taking everyone else with her.

“I’ve lost a lot of people, Yaz.” She said, resigned note in her voice. “You saw Gallifrey. My home world is gone, my wife is gone, my children are gone, my granddaughter is gone. I’ve lost most of my friends, and- since Gallifrey, I can’t block them out anymore. I see them die every night.”

All at once, Yaz leaned forwards, just like Clara had in her dream, wrapping her arms tightly around the Doctor, holding her grounded to the spot. Even that brief contact allowed some of the tension in the Doctor’s body to loosen, her shoulder’s slumping as she leant into the contact.

“’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

Yaz pulled herself back from the hug, keeping her hands firmly on the Doctor’s arms, so she could ground her while looking her in the eyes.

“Have you got a bedroom on board?” She asked.

“Somewhere. How come?”

Yaz smiled, “Because you’ve gotta sleep sometime, and I think it’s probably comfier than the floor.” She let one of her hands fall, the other moving up to brush the hair out of the Doctor’s eyes. “Come on.”

She caught Yaz’s wrist in her hand, suddenly looking nervous. She was really worried where her subconscious would go from what had to be one of the worst things she’d ever done. “I don’t wanna. Not yet.”  

“Y’ need to.” Yaz insisted, still trying her best to smile. The Doctor recognised that look from how often she herself wore it- that false-cheer that just barely covered the worry. “I promise I’ll sit with y’ the whole time- I can wake you up if you start makin’ noise.”

The Doctor thought about that for a minute. It’d certainly been easier to deal with the dream about Adelaide since she’d been pulled out of it before she actually had to hear the shot go off. If Yaz could pull her out of the bad moments before she had to see anything too bad- Maybe it would let the Doctor get a bit of sleep. It wasn’t the most elegant solution, and it didn’t seem as though it would last too long, but- it was an infinitely better one than her current plan of depriving herself of sleep until she could hardly stand.

“You really wouldn’t mind?” She eventually asked, her fingers still resting around Yaz’s wrist, though she wasn’t trying to use them to push her away any more.

“I love you. Let me take care of you, for once.”

There was another slight pause, before the Doctor let go of her hand, nodding. “Okay.”

Yaz let out a relieved breath. “Thank you.”

“For what?” The Doctor turned to her, genuine confusion etched across her features.

Yaz took another step closer, cupping the Doctor’s face in one hand, and giving her the most genuine smile either of them had shared since they’d reunited. “For letting me in.”

[flowerflamestars]

Would you write a HC of Nessian being that childhood enemies to lovers in high school? I can only trust you with it

Trust accepted and golden. 

-Okay, okay, so on the very first day of first grade, Cassian met the prettiest girl in the world. Little Nesta was absolutely one of those tiny polite children who has a vast hidden well of rage and imagination only displayed when playing witches with Elain in their mother’s garden. She’s quiet at school, utterly shy.

Cassian, meanwhile, is a gremlin. He’s energetic! and sweet! Dimples and curls, an enormous smile. He runs right up to the new girl on that rainy late summer day to introduce himself.

And trips. The Prettiest Girl in the World- as he tells Az, later, while they hide in Rhysand’s treefort- gets mud all over her perfect first day of school dress. 

- Baby Nesta is not okay, okay? She has no idea what to do with this friendly boy. She wants him to stop talking to her. She’s sure her mom is going to be disappointed when she comes home with her white dress ruined, and it’s her first day at a new school without Elain.

Cassian keeps apologizing, but it is Not Okay. 

-Nesta decides she hates him.

- Three years later, Nesta destroys Cassian in the spelling bee. Cassian begins to tip from the Prettiest Smartest Girl in the World is incredible to, the Prettiest Smartest Girl in the World keeps beating me at everything and I want to win JUST ONCE

Once, because he’s pissed. Once because then she’d be looking. Cassian just wants Nesta to look at him, and by sixth grade this feeling goes from earnest to furiously incandescent. 

HEAVY ON THE FURY

- Jump ahead, to the very end of middle school, the Archeron’s mom dies. 

Cassian is a happily adopted foster kid, former orphan who just barely remembers his parents. He finds out, and carries around this horrible heavy feeling in his chest all day like he can’t swallow. 

He wants- he doesn’t know- he wants to say something. But Nesta isn’t at school, and they aren’t actually friends, but he just wants to say: someday. He wants to tell her what his foster moms told him: that it’s okay to cry. (He cannot imagine perfect, smart, Nesta Archeron crying). Whatever you feel is okay.

Entirely by accident Cassian runs into her at the local library. Outside, crying on the sidewalk, arriving just in time to watch her hurl her water bottle at the cement.

Cassian, being Cassian, brings it back to her. 

It turns out pretty girl tears are terrifying.

So he very quietly hooks it back onto the pretty lavender backpack Nesta has carried around for the last three years- his is purple too, not at all to be weird, just because- and sits down on the sidewalk too, a couple feet away.

And Nesta is Not Okay. Her mom is dead, and she doesn’t know what she feels because it’s huge and terrifying. Everything hurts and she’s so, so angry and that stupid water bottle lid doesn’t really fit anyway, because it’s actually Feyre’s lid on Nesta’s bottle, because their Aunt doesn’t know anything and doesn’t know them, and Nesta only has that stupid baby backpack because their Dad spends all his time at work so he doesn’t know that before Mom got sick Nesta and Elain got new backpacks every year, whichever they wanted, and they always matched, but Elain’s ripped last summer and their dad had his assistant get a new one but it’s pink and Elain hates pink and it clashes with Nesta’s-

Cassian watches the Pretty Perfect Girl curl in on herself and scream. 

This, in the end, is when Perfect Girl becomes Nesta.

Cassian is is panicking, okay? PANICKING. His ability to comfort other people is 85% knowing when Azriel is overwhelmed and 15% hugging his dog during thunderstorms. He doesn’t know what he can possibly do for Nesta- so he just grabs her hand. 

Holds on, like Az did without laughing at him when Cassian cried that his adoption had gone through.

And Nesta hangs on, so hard it really actually hurts. He doesn’t ask her what’s wrong, or why, and Nesta is so grateful that hurts too. He’s always so loud and laughing, and Nesta has always hated it a little, thinking he was laughing at her.

(he was not)

The complete simplicity of that sweaty grip is just enough that Nesta can think. And poor baby Nesta thinks. 

She has to go inside and return all the sisters books so they don’t have a fine. She needs to figure out how to cut Feyre’s bangs because she’s running around like a sheepdog because Dad didn’t remember to schedule her a haircut. Elain will help. And Nesta will help Elain water the houseplants because Mom loved them and Dad told the maids they’re fake but they’re not, only the ones in the living room are. 

And Nesta- Nesta has a plan.

-They go in the library. If the volunteer behind the desk is making faces at Nesta’s tearstained face or grubby, iron grip on the boy beside her, Nesta isn’t going to acknowledge it, because Mom always said rude people didn’t deserve attention.

Nesta picks out her books, Cassian silently follows. And then he walks her home. They live in the same neighborhood, so it’s fine- but whats not fine is Nesta still hasn’t said anything, and Cassian just wants to say something-

But what happens it this- Nesta carries half the books in a grip so hard it looks painful. Cassian knows its probably painful, because she’s really hurting his hand now. 

Cassian will look later at the imprint her tiny fingertips had made and feel like his whole body is fluttering- but now, now, she’ll steal his half of the books like it’s nothing and stomp up the porch steps of her house, right past a wilting delivery of lilies slowly dying before her front door. 

She won’t say thank you. Cassian won’t say goodbye.

But Cassian will think it’s okay, it’s okay- because Nesta wasn’t alone like he’d been alone.

The blue door slams shut, and they don’t speak again until junior year of high school.

- Nesta Archeron is seventeen and ready to eat the world raw. She’s top of her class. She has goals, she has terrifyingly perfect hair, and she is not going to let anything stand in her way- especially not the fact that she ran for junior class president and tied, with Cassian.

-Cassian has become very, very Cassian in the intervening years. He’s popular but kind, a loud laugh that echoes down halls. Smart, but not a stratospheric over-achiever like Nesta. College is a year away, but everyone know’s he’s going to get an athletic scholarship. 

They run in very, very different circles.

-Listen, it’s not even on purpose- it’s just that something about Nesta’s horrified expression and color-coded organization and perfect fucking red lips makes Cassian his most insane golden retriever self. He can’t help himself. 

They have to work together. They fight constantly. 

But Cassian’s fighting, at seventeen, is like 80% teasing and 20% very real, very earnest flirting. 

And maybe- maybe Nesta knows that and it makes her even grouchier.  She has a plan, okay? She’s on track to graduation top of her class. She’s going to Standford, then Harvard. She’s going to be a surgeon. 

It’s not so far away she can’t still be there for her sisters. Elain wants to go to Berkley and obviously will because she’s brilliant- Feyre will only be alone for one year, but she’s already all set for that to be her study abroad year, so she won’t be trapped at home in their empty house. She’ll be in Spain, and then she’ll go to art school. 

All three Archeron sisters will be of age to pull from their enormous inheritance left from their mother- they will never need to ask anything of their absent, silent, bastard father ever again. It’s just a matter of waiting.

Nesta is on track, and she can’t get distracted.

But Cassian- Cassian really seems to think Nesta doesn’t remember him. As though she could forget, as much as she wants to, that absolute disaster of a boy who was the only person in the world who made Nesta feel like she wasn’t responsible for everything.

Of course, that little boy grew up to be beautiful. 

Of course, now he’s a goddamn menace who’s a clear foot taller than her with broad shoulders to match. Of course, that enormous kind smile sits even more tantalizing on an older face. Of course his dimples are so deep they flash when he grimaces at her student council timeline, broken down for the next two years.

- Azriel, Nesta’s AP chem lab partner, bound forever in respect by mutual silent competence and scorn for the assholes who sit behind them who keep lighting things on fire, says nothing about any of this until Nesta comes into class holding an enormous rainbow concoction like it’s going to explode.

Together- perennially left to their own devices by a teacher who really does not know what to do with them, and maybe fears they both know the coursework better than she does- they stare at the rainbow sprinkled whip cream mountain, slowly melting into the equally bright froth of the drink. 

Some of them are heart-shaped. 

Azriel breaks first, and asks, “Cassian?”

And Nesta, sweet baby ice princess Nesta, numb from being swooped upon by a giddy, grinning, blushing 6′4 quarterback who darted out of the culinary building to force this into her hand and run back away says: Does he think I’m a lesbian?

This is the moment Azriel’s soul actually leaves his body. 

The visceral cringe is so apparent Nesta keeps talking: I mean, the rainbows? why? 

It’s just close enough to a wail that Azriel decides to take pity on this whole new level of romantic idiocy. He proceeds to explain it’s a unicorn frappuccino? maybe? probably? not that he could advise actually consuming anything Cassian makes.

Nesta’s big What the Fuck face does not fade, so Az finally goes: he’s trying to get your attention. 

Nesta: He has my attention. I see him every day. 

Azriel, thinking about how much fun telling Lucien about this will be, imagining his very beautiful boyfriend howling with laughter: Right, and why would he want more?

Nesta: Because he’s a menace?

Az:

Nesta:

Az:

Nesta, glaring with heartfelt intensity at the melting hearts and stars, food coloring weeping: Because he wants my attention. That- that bastard.

Az, opening his mouth, only to be cut off by Nesta furiously unzipping her bag:

Nesta: that stupid fucking- are you kidding me? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? He- HE- he made me go to a soccer game last week and called it OUTREACH. 

Azriel, watching Nesta tap her phone at top speed: Are you...texting Cassian?

Nesta: that motherfucking, stupid, college admission essays- I’m going to-

Az: Nesta??

Nesta: Do you know how much of a disaster he is? Do you know how much of my time he has wasted? He wants my attention, he has my fucking attention. Why didn’t he say so?

(In the background, the boys behind them have, indeed, started another fire)

Three buildings away, Cassian, vibrating with a frequency that can be seen from space: Mooooor, you don’t understand. She’s so smart, she’s going to be trauma surgeon.

Morrigan, trying in vain to get a full rainbows worth of food coloring off her pearlescent manicure: Cas, you literally want to be a nurse. 

Cassian: Exactly

Morrigan gives up on her nails, distracted from Cassian’s lovelorn expression by his silenced phone flashing repeatedly: Who’s sparkle heart sparkle heart bomb peach firework sparkle heart? 

Cassian, flailing: 

Nesta, here expressed as sparkle heart sparkle heart bomb peach firework sparkle heart: Coffee. 3pm, Sunday. Yes?

Cassian, chewing on the inside of his cheek: Yes! Did the senior class shunt all their work down again?

Nesta: Not to work.

Cassian, life flashing before his eyes, thinking it was the sprinkles?!!

Nesta: A date.

Nesta: Is this supposed to taste like sour candy? 

- They go on the date. Cassian overcomes his transcendent nervousness by getting into a pretty squabble with Nesta over the book they’re currently reading in AP English. 

(The entire argument is a false premise, he loves Jane Austen. Nesta knows this.)

- Nesta takes him to this beautiful coffee shop that is like 70% just a lush tropic garden. 

(Elain sees them coming and has to literally duck behind the counter to laugh. Lucien, her shift partner and dearest friend, watches the whole song and dance of ordering, sitting under a flowering tree and staring at each like lunatics with utter glee, ready to rely every detail to Az)

The Thing is, they keep fighting. They keep fighting, but Cassian’s smile gets softer and softer, his laugh brighter and brighter. The arguing is turning into banter and Nesta is actually? having? So much fun?

- The thing is, Nesta needed a plan to survive. 

But maybe- maybe Cassian was there all along. Maybe, if she can’t be distracted, the obvious answer is to stop letting him make her crazy and- and let him in. 

Maybe, she can hold onto responsibility for everything and still let someone else have a little responsibility for her.

Maybe, Cassian is exactly what she needed. 

[imfeelingprettylow]

So what if, instead of Adam telling Satan off, God shows up? Humor me for a second I probably am going to suck at this

The ground shook and Adam stood facing this massive beast, who was supposed to be his father. But he wasn't because

"Dads don't just show up after 11 years." As he had said. And it was looking like this very scary thing was going to pass. But Satan wasn't budging.

"So my son abandons me. And all that stand between me and the world is a couple of children, a former hellhound, a witch, two witchfinders, a whore, and two rebellious lovers. Seems God has chosen her champions. A pity. " as he was speaking he transformed, his massive self becoming smaller as he turned from horrifying into a vague humanoid shape. A pair of massive wings, much bigger than any angels, sprouted from human shoulders, and with a blink of the eye, a tall man stood before the lot. He was hard to focus on; immensely beautiful and terrifying to behold, with red eyes. Horrifying blood red eyes.

"So. I'm here. Standing before my son asking him to help me end this war once and for all. But where is your god? She sends you lot, with the hopes of what? You cannot save the world. She has abandoned you as she abandoned me." Satan's voice is heavenly and horrifying, a mixture of growling and celestial harmonies that has the hairs on Crowleys neck stand up. There is a flash of light and suddenly Gabriel is standing behind the group. Why God chose him to speak for her he will never know. He is absolutely terrified, as he walks forward to stand beside Adam

"The lord has spoken to me." Gabriel says, visibly shaking. There is a beat is silence. Satan raises one delicate eyebrow

"And?" He asks. Gabriel swallows the pump in his throat.

"She says to go back to the hole from whence you came." Even crowley, in his fit of terror had to smirk at that. Satan chuckles, his smile agonizing to behold

"And why does she not come to tell me herself? Ah, I know" Satan raises his face to the sky, eyes burning, massive wings opening "Because she isn't THERE "

In the next second two things happen. One, beezlebub appears beside their lord to inform him that hell is as it should be. Beezlebub fortunately appears beside Gabriel because they are afraid to approach their master from behind.

The second thing that happens is, God appears. One would expect a flash of light. And of course there is. But this light is so bright that aziraphale, in absolute terror, must unfurl his wings and moving with the speed of the angel he is, must gather Crowley and Adam to him, to protect them from God's wrath. Because God is pissed.

She appears, not as a human, but as a singular ball of floating light, smaller than a human head, burning with the rage of 6000 years. Aziraphales wings protect his demon and the boy from the full force of her might, and he manages to turn to face her. Beside him, Gabriel has done a miraculous and traitorous thing. In a pure act of kindness, without thinking, he has stepped in front of the Lord beezlebub to protect them from God's wrath. Beezlebub blinks at the feathery wall before them, surprised but unafraid. Aziraphale glances behind to see a singed, but very much alive crowley, covering Adam with his body, yellow eyes shut in terror. God hovers before satan, burning with rage and malice. All of this has happened within the span of two seconds.

"Hello Lucifer " God's voice is, well ineffable. Cannot be described. Crowley and beezlebub both cower in fear, hands over their ears in pain. Satan smirks, pleased with himself

"Hello mother." God's light hurts even the angels eyes. She glows brighter, annoyed

"You must go back into the hole, lucy." The old nickname makes Satan pause and suddenly both Gabriel and aziraphale notice pain; Satan's rage is as strong as God's and their wings become slightly singed. Crowleys head pops up as he recognizes that smell.

"All I ever wanted, mother, was to be loved." Crowley is looking back and forth between Satan and his angels wings. Beezlebub is now standing. Both demons know what they must do

"But you lOVED THEM MORE" the roar is accompanied by hellfire and Crowley launches himself in front of aziraphale, midnight wings open. Beezlebub has become a hoard of flies, and swirls around Gabriel protectivley. Both demons take the full force of the hellfire, as God simply casts it aside. Satan's great roar causes Gabriel to cry out in pain. And God pauses. She does not react to her son's temper tanrtrum. She dims. Crowley had begun to smoke in her presence, beezlebub literally dropping like flies. And God notices this, and pauses.

"My son. I wish not to fight. Neither of us can win this battle. So instead of arguing needlessly I am simply going to make you notice something." She turns to face the lot. Crowley is the one front and center. His love for aziraphale is all consuming as he stares at the Lord. He is not afraid, despite the pain he is in.

"Yes I've seen your champions mother. They are unimpressive." Satan's words cut deep and Gabriel cries out again. Aziraphale is trying to stand, but Adam pulls him down to keep him safe.

"My champions? Odd. I didn't choose any of them" God says. Satan scowls

"You choose evrything. You have had this plan since the beginning of time." He argues

"Well yes, I had hoped things would go this way. But I play with cards Lucy. Sometimes my design is less perfect and more..."

"Innefable." Crowley says, his face full of pain. God dims a bit, and moves closer.

"I think I've been quietly watching things from the sidelines too long. Of course I will continue to do so, for the humans sake. But for my angelic and demonic children, I think I let things go too far... You all are so ready to destroy what I so love." God seemed uoset, which is to say that her light went a little blue. Satan fumed

"Ah yes, the bloody humans. Those frail creatures you love more than your own children" Satan spat.

"Of course. I may have underestimated my children however." God said. "It seems to me that angels and demons are not so... binary in good and evil. It seems that given enough time and energy, they can be almost....human" God smiled at Crowley and he flinched. Aziraphale looked up and over one midnight wing at his lord, and slowly came around, despite Crowley and Adams concern.

"Oh, you mean these traitorous fools? I will not suffer them to live." In an instant there were flames engulfing them all.

Aziraphale thought he was dead. He hurt all over. His eyes were shut and he felt...peace. love. So much love. He opened his eyes to see a sky full of midnight wings.

Crowley wailed and grew to a height unimaginable, casting himself fully into the smiting flames of his master. And this act alone is what made him survive. Pure love. The flames hit him, with all the fury of hell, and he absorbed them, snarling, yellow eyes wide

"You will NOT take him from me!"

The flames engulfed him, and then they were beaten back by his wings, right into Satan himself.

Satan stumbled back, shaken but otherwise unharmed. The flames died down and Crowley lowered his wings, the air around him shimmering with heat.

"You will NOT take him from me." Crowley said again.

*authors note* if I screwed anything up please be kind but informative I didn't proof read this at all lol

UPDATE EVERYONE

Satan stood there dumbfounded for a singular second before his angelic face began to contort in rage. before satan could unleash his full fury on Crowley, however, God stepped between them.

“enough lucifer.” she said, and this time, crowley did not cringe. Aziraphale and Adam peeked out from behind him, and Beelzebub was themself again, standing beside gabriel. God cancelled out the pain around her, and faced off with her rebellious son 

“you are not seeing what you are meant to see. nor are you trying to understand. you are ignoring the reason this all had to happen. you are disappointing me lucy. again.” God was not angry, but she had begun to turn a rather peculiar shade of purple, that Gabriel recognized as disappointment and sorrow. And Satan recognized it too. He looked at crowley behind God, looked at Beelzebub beside Gabriel, looked at his own rebellious son, at the human children around them, and then finally his bloody gaze was upon his Mother. Satan glared, but behind his false anger was a sorrow and pain indescribable. 

“I just want to be loved.” he snarled. Crowley, in all his anger, could at least understand that. Aziraphale, behind him, felt that too and reached fro Crowleys hand, their fingers intertwining. God dimmed.

“you are, my dear boy. I love all my creations, even those that rebel against me. I have always loved you. Even this boy you spawned to destroy my humans, I love him as well. My love does not dwindle, nor does it become overruled by rage.” Adam, in surprise, looked at god and then at Satan. and then he walked right out and stood beside god , her light not harming him in the least.

“you shouldnt hate her so much.” adam said. satan regarded his son with suspicion. 

“your powers are great my boy, but not even you could change the reality of his heart.” Aziraphale said. “his hatred has darkened the love that used to be there.” God dimmed again, becoming more blue than purple

“I think youre wrong.” adam said “I think you havent given him a chance. I think, he let himself get upset and he wasnt thinking straight, and he hurt his friends and now, he doesnt know how to fix it.” adam was speaking from personal experience, and his friends smiled 

satan frowned at the boy 

“so what do you propose we do? we are mortal enemies.” he said, frustration showing. Adam turned to look at crowley and aziraphale, standing hand in hand 

“so were they. all it took for them was...well im not sure. i only just met them. but im sure if you ask them they can tell you.” all eyes turned on the pair, and defiantly they refused to let go of each other, though aziraphale was looking rather scarlet, from the singing hellfire or pure embarrassment, he would never tell. Crowley, tire iron still in hand, looked at his angel and pondered for a moment

“it took a second for me to love aziraphale. on the wall. when he showed his loyalty for humanity and disregard for the rules. it took 6000 years for me to admit that, just now.” Aziraphale looked at his demon in shock and then swallowed nervously 

“well I...I guess it was the books. I mean, I suppose I’d always been...fond of Crowley, I loved his company. I can always indulge and be...me. and then he saved my books for me and I guess I’ve been denying my love for him until...well a few minutes ago. But yes. We were mortal enemies, perhaps for a moment on the wall. But we have always been friends...and then some.” Crowley squeezed Aziraphales hand and smirked. Adam turned back to his satanic father 

“I bet you could learn to do that.” the boy said. Satan, however stood unconvinced 

“what? take a ball of light, the Almighty out to fish and chips? with humans? “ he scoffed. Gods light was now a pure amber color, a color of love and humor 

“I can take many forms, Lucy.” Was all she said. 

“Wait Wait Wait!” Gabriel said, striding forward, Beelzebub following quickly behind “disregarding all of that, I want to know how this is all supposed to play out. we are supposed to have a war! is that not happening?” God turned to her archangel, who promptly took a step back and swallowed in fear 

“there will be no war, my child. I will speak to the angels myself.”

“but you havent done that in...”

“too long, Gabriel. I have been absent for too long. Things are going to change in heaven. as for hell...” God turned to her satanic son, and his angelic face was full of conflict “I am always here for you, my dearest boy. Whenever you need me, ask. I have lots of work to do” God turned then to Crowley, Aziraphale and Adam

“you have all done so well, my children. I am so very proud.” and with that, she vanished, like fog vanishes on a windy day, and they were left there with satan, who was looking rather befuddled. 

“So the war is off, if my son still refuses to destroy humanity.” he looked down at adam, who looked almost bored

“I quite like humanity, thanks. feel free to stop by the wood sometime, if you ever want to play with Dog.” Satan stood straighter, and looked at Crowley

“and you? where do your allegiances lie now? with the angels?” 

“my allegiances have always been with Aziraphale.” the demon said very plainly. Aziraphale squeezed his hand tighter 

“fine. Lord Beelzebub?”

“I...” they looked at Gabriel “I am not sure, master. I think we have more troubling things at hand. the troops need some...alignment.” 

“well, let us go then. I see no more reason to stay. good riddance and all that.” Satan vanished by melting into the ground. Beelzebub spared Gabriel a glance before doing the same 

Gabriel let out the air he had been holding and glared at Aziraphale 

“I have to go. You and I are going to talk more about this after I...figure out what side im on.” his face fell in confusion before he dissipated as well. 

and so then there were three children, the former antichrist, two witchfinders, a witch, a whore, a former hellhound, and two ethereal beings. 

“so...now what?” Madam Tracy said “Ive seen god today. I dont think I can just go back to my flat.” 

“Well I for one have had enough occult presence today, thanks. Can we go home now ?” Pepper said. Adam smiled

“yeah I think im gonna go home. my dads here.” and sure enough, Adams human father was getting out of his car. Crowley, in a moment of exhaustion, wavered a bit, and Aziraphale caught him

“are you alright my dear?” he asked in concern. Crowley smiled, eyes shut in pure bliss 

“yes, angel, I am perfectly...tickety boo.”

*authors note* thanks for all the support!

[slytherinknowitall]

To Bed A Death Eater

Chapter 2: Doubt

(Click here for chapter 1!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Less than ten minutes later, there was a timid knock at her door, and Hermione would have been lying if she had said that that sound did not make her heart skip a beat.

Putting aside the book she’d been absentmindedly flicking through, she walked to the door with a rather stiff and unsteady gait before pulling it open to reveal the familiar figure of the Potions Master.

“Professor Snape,” she whispered breathlessly, trying hard to ignore the sudden lump in her throat. “Um, please, come in.”

Stepping aside, she watched as the man hesitantly took one cautious step into the crammed room; and the unusual sight of his visible wariness made her mentally smack her own forehead.

Of course. He can’t see!

“Here, let me help you,” she offered, reaching out her hand without a moment’s thought. When she touched his forearm, he drew a sharp intake of breath. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you, sir.”

Snape did not say anything in response. For an agonizingly long time, they just stood like that in the doorway of her bedroom, her hand on his arm, the awkwardness in the air virtually palpable. It was only when there was suddenly the sound of commotion coming from downstairs that Hermione summoned up the nerve to pull him inside, locking the door behind them. Getting out her wand, she applied a silencing charm as well as some protective wards for good measure.

Better safe than sorry. It certainly wouldn’t do any good to have someone just barge in.

Turning back around to face him, she tentatively grabbed his elbow and guided him towards her bed. She could not help but silently cringe as she saw him there, seated on her tiny twin-size bed, thinking about what might be happening soon in that very spot. But alas, her small bedroom, which she had moved into a mere two months earlier, did not offer any other sitting accommodations. And so, though her heart was trembling so very terribly, she went and sat next to him.

For a while, neither one of them spoke. Kneading her fingers, the young woman struggled to ignore how uncomfortably close she presently was to her former teacher as she stared out the window overlooking the deserted street outside. Looking back, she could not have said with certainty whether it had only been a few minutes or several hours, but by the time the streetlights came on, she finally plucked up the courage to say, “I’m glad that you decided to come here so that we can talk in private.”

“I did not have much of a choice,” Snape admitted huskily. “Alastor practically pushed me upstairs while Albus tried to contain everyone else in the kitchen.”

“They’re still not very thrilled about this, aren’t they?”

He gave an affirmative grunt. “Most of them were ready to jump at my throat and kill me with their bare hands right there and then.”

“Oh …” Hermione had to swallow hard. “I’m sorry. They really ought not to treat you like that.”

“I don’t blame them. I truly have half a mind to turn my own wand on myself.”

A troubled frown creased Hermione’s forehead. There was an obvious hint of blatant self-hatred dripping from his words, and she did not like that. She did not like that one bit.

But before she even had the chance to respond, he continued, “I will be honest with you … I do not even know what to say to you right now.”

Vaguely tracing the diamond pattern of the quilt they were sitting on with one finger, she tried her best to sound nonchalant as she mumbled, “Well, why don’t you simply tell me whether or not you accept my offer.”

“Miss Granger, I –”

“Would you mind if we used first names?” she interrupted him. “Just for today. It’s just that formalities would make this whole thing even weirder than it already is.”

She saw him hesitate for a second.

“All right … Hermione,” he ultimately conceded, and it was so weird to hear him properly address her by her given name for the very first time – though she had to admit that it sounded quite nice coming from his lips. Something about that deep voice of his made her stomach clench up into knots. “As much as I appreciate it, I obviously cannot accept your proposal.”

“Why not?”

“Even forgetting the fact that you were my student for seven years and that I am a lot older than you, I could never in good faith make you endure such a thing. This, this curse,” he spat out the word with disgust. “Is a lot more powerful than you could ever even imagine. It would strip me of all control and force me to do unspeakable things to you that could very well destroy your sanity.”

He turned away from her in an unsuccessful attempt to hide his facial expression which was filled with nothing but self-loathing. “Even now, I can feel the dark magic coursing through my veins, tugging at my mind. It senses your presence. I can hear it whisper to me, bidding me to just rip off this stupid blindfold and take you right here. Merely sitting next to you already requires more will power than any time I have had to shield my mind from the Dark Lord.”

The witch’s breathing hitched in her throat. His crude confession made her heart beat so fast that it was almost threatening to break out of her ribcage. Willing herself to take a deep breath, she squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to stay put.

No. No, you can do this. For the Order. For Harry.

“I don’t believe that Professor Dumbledore would have sent you up here if he thought that there was a chance of me being seriously harmed,” she said softly, her eyes still closed. “And I also don’t believe that any kind of dark magic would ever be able to entirely overpower your morals and your good heart.”

He snorted with biting laughter. “Then you clearly do not know me well at all. Or him, for that matter. All that old madman cares about is the cause. We are all nothing but mere chess pieces in that little, rigged game of his he likes to play.”

“Don’t say that –”

“But it’s the truth! Don’t you see?” His tone gradually got louder and louder. “Any reasonably sane man in his position would have simply hired an unsuspecting prostitute, slipped her a couple of potions and then sent her back home with an altered memory and a nice, big bag filled to the brim with Galleons, blissfully unaware of any specifics. But not Albus. No, in his mind, raping the Muggle-born third of the Golden Trio is the perfect way to feign loyalty to the enemy and thus securing his plaything’s rank among the Dark Lord’s inner circle. Ha! As distraught as he might have acted, he knew from the beginning that you’d be the one to volunteer. Only you’d be foolish enough to let the greasy git of the dungeons fuck you in an attempt to save his pathetic, miserable life. You and your stupid saviour complex. So please, don’t be so naïve. This is all just a fucking charade to that bloody bedlamite!”

What followed that angry outburst was silence – complete and utter silence. Not even the rustling of the trees outside or the rapid palpitations inside both of their chests seemed to be able to penetrate their noiseless bubble. Hermione could feel her own pulse thumbing in her ears, and her mouth felt almost disgustingly dry. Wordlessly counting to a hundred, she at last opened her eyes and dared to cast a glance at the wizard. He was sitting in a hunched-over position, his face buried in his hands. Never before had she seen him like that, so evidently helpless, so vulnerable. For some reason, it nearly made her feel physically sick to witness him in such a state.

“I understand your apprehension, I really do,” she muttered gently. “I’m not quite keen on having to do this either. But I honestly don’t see any other way out of this mess. Somehow or the other, the curse must be broken … and time is running out.”

“I know,” he croaked out, the words muffled by his hands.

“And for all his faults, Professor Dumbledore is right. We cannot put ourselves before the cause. Especially not during dark times like these.” She could not stop her face from twisting into an anguished grimace. “Besides, I dare say that you are being a bit naïve yourself if you think that tricking a stranger would not weigh heavy on your conscience, too.”

Snape slowly lifted his head a little, allowing his chin to come to a rest on the pressed-together tips of his fingers, which were horribly stained from years of daily brewing.

“I don’t think that you are fully aware of what you are getting yourself into here. This would not be like any of your previous sexual encounters, Hermione. There would be no romance, no pleasure, no satisfaction. It would be hard and fast and downright animalistic.” He squared his shoulders. “And though I have never made it a habit to keep up with my students’ private lives, I do not think that it would be wrong of me to assume that an ever-busy academic like you most likely has little experience with such things.”

Hermione felt the warmth creep into the apples of her cheeks as her whole body stiffened, and that movement did not go unnoticed.

“I mean, you do have some experience, right?”

No answer.

“Oh god, you aren’t still a virgin, are you?” Snape rasped despairingly before letting his head fall back into his hands.

Hermione shifted her weight with unease. “I do not attach any value to my virginity if that is the problem, sir,” she was quick to assure him, glad to know that he could not see how awfully red-faced she was at that very instant. “When you think about it, it’s really nothing but a social construct. Will I be a different person afterwards? No. Will you be dead should I refuse? Most likely. So the decision is easy, really. The only reason why I … why I haven’t done it yet is because such a situation has simply never arisen before.”

“No! No, this is deranged!” he cried out as his entire body seized up and started to shake. “How could I ever live with myself knowing that I took something like that from you?”

She bit her lower lip. “I very much doubt that it would be that much better to wait for my first true love or maybe even just a drunken night out to come around first,” she argued with furrowed brows. “Because even in that case, it would be awkward and fumbling and, in all likelihood, disappointing. With you, now, it would at least serve a bigger purpose. It would be special – in its own absurd way.”

“I can’t,” he whispered in a quivering voice.

Suddenly feeling bold, Hermione grabbed his wrists and pulled his arms towards her, forcing him to face her.

“You don’t have a choice,” she told him in a beseeching yet stern manner. “You are far too valuable to the Order to stupidly risk your life like this.”

Snape opened his mouth as though to say something in response, but then he quickly closed it again. Pulling free from her grasp, he leaned back until his shoulders were touching the wall against which her bed had been pushed. He looked like a picture of misery. His complexion was of a deathly pale colour, his jaw was clenched, and a few beads of sweat could be seen running down his forehead.

“I do not want to do anything against your will,” he insisted weakly.

“I wouldn’t be too concerned about that if I were you. I –“ She dithered for just a second. Come on, Hermione. Don’t lose him now. “I am rather physically attracted to you.”

His head jerked up in surprise. “You are?”

“Y-yes,” she replied bashfully, all at once feeling dreadfully shy. “I find you quite handsome, actually.”

She was not lying just to make him feel better either. Truth be told, she’d had a slight fascination with him ever since he took over the Defence Against the Dark Arts position during her sixth year, when his passion for the subject really started to shine through – particularly during his more physical demonstrations.

Still, she was glad when he did not ask her to elaborate any further. Watching as he ran a tremulous hand through his jet-black hair, she heard him say, “Surely you are aware of the fact that some men would not take kindly to the fact that you are not chaste anymore?”

“Good!” Hermione huffed exasperatedly. “If they truly measure my worth as a person by who I have given my body to, then I’d rather have them think of me as used goods and leave me alone all together.”

“And what about Weasley?”

She looked at him with confusion in her eyes. “What about him?”

“He seemed … very much opposed to the idea.”

“Oh, he can sod right off!” she snarled angrily, leaping to her feet. “I don’t want anything from him. I never have.”

Walking the short distance to her nearby dressing table, she pulled open one of its drawers and fished out a black hair tie which she then used to fasten her brown curls into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck. Checking her appearance in the half-tarnished mirror, she could see the man rub his hands across his thighs in obvious discomfort.

“It could hurt,” he said in what sounded like a last-ditch effort to keep from having to yield himself to his fate.

Turning around, her mouth twisted into a wry smile.

“I’m sure that I have experienced worse,” she told him calmly, and for a moment, neither one of them said anything. Hermione sat back down next to him. “But like I said, I don’t think you’d ever be actively out to hurt me. I trust you, you know?”

Even though they were mostly hidden behind the blindfold, she could still see his eyebrows lift in surprise. It was abundantly clear that even the mere notion of someone like her trusting someone like him seemed utterly unfathomable to the dark wizard.

There was another short moment of heavy silence. Then, a deep sigh escaping his lips, he finally asked, “Are you really sure?”

The tone of his voice nearly broke her heart. He was normally such an assertive and stern man, but now he just sounded so defeated. It made for an easy choice.

“Yes.”

(Click here for chapter 3!)

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Two halves become one whole {6}

Description; A movie night with the team. Bucky thinking back to your encounter in the gym. What could go wrong?

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Chapter 6/9

Word count; 4.885

Warnings; some mature jokes

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: Couldn't retrain myself for putting a movie night in the series, so now I went full out on it. Enjoy!

SERIES MASTERLIST

“Hey Y/N!” The call of your name made you stop midsentence in the conversation with Nat. It was hard to not recognise the voice even if you tried not to, so when turning around, you weren't surprised seeing Tony enter the room with a grin.

“Tony, are you gonna let me eat my cereal in peace or have you made Pepper angry and need my help?” You questioned him, though quickly continuing to stop his train of thought when noticing a glint entering his eyes. “It’s no to whatever you were going to say by the way!”.

“Oh, don’t break an old man’s heart”, the billionaire put a hand on his chest as he came to stand beside you.

“That’s Peppers job, you know that”, you smirked at him.

“That one hit the mark”.

“That’s the only thing I do”, you winked at him. While chuckling at your comment, he leaned against the countertop beside you. This enabled you to swivel forward once more on the barstool and still be able to see him when he continued speaking.

“What I was going to ask, were if you ladies are going to join the movie night tonight?” He asked, looking between you and Nat. With a quick glance towards the redhead, you noticed she had quirked a brow.

“Why are you asking us so early, or even at all?” You nodded in agreement to the spy, because usually if you had movie nights they weren't planned, you only set a date every now and then and those who came they came.

Wondering what the sudden urge of personal invitations came from, you expectantly looked at Tony, waiting for his answer. Though, before he was able to give one, he shifted his eyes to look over your shoulder. That was the moment you heard light footsteps echo in the common room, a pair you’d come to recognise as Steve’s.

Mimicking the billionaire's action, you glanced over your shoulder, getting pleasantly surprised when not only seeing the blonde man, but also Bucky. He looked healthier now, as the shadows dancing across his features had disappeared. He even walked straighter then you remembered, shoulders rolled back as if he wasn't trying to hide anymore.

You smiled at the change, happy that he had found some of his confidence once more. You knew you weren't the only one, as Steve sometimes even joked that the brunette got more and more like his old self. If it hadn't been for the times you dragged Steve with you to the museum, you wouldn't have heard about the self-assured and charming man Bucky once was.

Though he previously sparsely made the comparison, the last week's progression for the brunette made him unable to not hold them back. You understood why, as Steve had confided in you that one of his underlying fears was that Bucky wouldn't get better. And now seeing how much better he'd become, you guessed it was something he couldn't really retain from doing. However, you saw how the joke affected the former soldier. At first glance, perhaps his smile and chuckle could be seen as agreement or gentle denial, though you saw that his smile always was hallow and eyes filled with something you only could describe as strain. But, at the moment, you could not see any of those things in either men's eyes, the way the pair walked towards you behaving like young boys.

“Good morning”, Steve’s voice made you concentrate on him, instead of jumping between the two. You smiled and nodded as an answer, thus at the same moment did you realise both of them were wearing gym clothes, sweat lining the fabric as well as their foreheads. How could you forget? The pair usually took a run early in the morning to not be disturbed by loads of people, Steve's way of widening Bucky's comfortable circle.

“There’s your answer sweetheart, those  two  gramps is joining us tonight, so I thought we would get everyone together”, shocked you looked at Tony, your surprise probably written all over your face as he smiled victoriously. He had caught you off guard when insinuating both Steve and Bucky would come. 

Because even though he's been in the tower for a little more than three months and your talking sessions wasn’t as frequent anymore, you wouldn't have guessed he felt comfortable joining the team on events like this just yet. But, you need to admit you saw the time coming, sooner rather than later. Thus the timid conversationist Bucky had been a few weeks ago, was not as present anymore. The small talk went easy with most people on the team, even if it was few times he started them.

You guessed why Tony was so keen on bringing the whole team together, team activities, as well as parties, had been on an all-time low. It was mainly because of an agreement you and Steve, together with some of the other therapist, set with Tony. No bigger crowds then necessary should visit the tower until the former soldier felt comfortable with it.

You had joked it could serve as a few sobriety months for the billionaire, a thing he said he could agree on if it meant he could throw another donation gala once Bucky was good enough. It had made you cringe, but you couldn't but shrug out a sure .

“They will?” You questioned echoed, throwing a quick glance over your shoulder at the two soldiers still quite the distance away but fast approaching. They seemed engrossed in their own conversation, so naturally, you thought they wouldn't hear your own. However, Bucky did and though he continued the discussion about today's run, he felt the urge to intrude on your talk with the billionaire.

He'd caught the way Tony had called you sweetheart, he even felt like he stood to close to you while leaning on the countertop. Yet he felt the only reassurance of the man's close proximity, came from you, as you seemed unbothered when you had looked back at him. As the majority of his concentration was on your conversation, his own with Steve became strained.

“Hey Buck”, snapping out of his daze of looking at you he focused on Steve. “Better not keep burning holes into the back of Stark’s head”, he continued in a whisper, a chuckle following the smile he already sported when the brunette clenched his jaw. He felt an embarrassment, similar to the time when something gritted in him when debating whether you and Steve had been a couple or not.

He remembers how much it had made him frown, the way the two of you could read each other so well and how different you acted in the other's company compared to others. He would argue that was the main reason he began observing you. However, though he found countless things about you that didn't add up, yet felt oddly familiar, he never could deduce if you and Steve were more then friends. That was until that one time in the gym, where he couldn't have gotten a more obvious answer.

He waited on Steve to arrive, though since he had entered the gym and taken his place on a bench, your's and Nat's sparring was what occupied his attention.

As he observed you, he came to erase the conclusion that your training had gone on for a shorter period than the rest of the team. Thus if it had, you wouldn't be able to move the way you did now, light on your feet, eyes tracking Nat for her next move. Looking down at his clasped hands, he felt his grip on your weren't clear.

He sat pondering what made you distinctly different from the rest until he felt someone looking at him. As soon as he raised his gaze, he met yours. The exhaustion from your training was evident, as your eyes didn't hold the same alert glint as they usually did.

He knew as soon as your eyes kept being locked with his, that your concentration had wandered too much. Directly afterwards, he was proved right. As in one moment, you were standing, but in the next, you fell towards the matt. He noticed a pained expression pass your features as soon as you connected with the floor. One he presumed came from your wrists which had taken the majority of the impact.

”You need to concentrate”, he needed to stop himself from chuckling at the jab sent your way, needing to look down to not let the sound escape.

As he heard the exclaim of a question, he couldn't help the smile latching onto his lips, especially as he continued listening to the spy's answer. However, when a new voice entered the discussion, he couldn't help but raise his head again.

”You can’t make yourself fall for her like that”, he saw Steve walk into the gym, attention turned towards where you had manoeuvred to sit instead of lay on the floor.

”I'm gonna use that one towards you next time”, he heard you huff.

"You need to take me down first", he noticed a shift in your face, a quirked brow, when the blonde said this.

"You know I'm able to".

"All too well", he followed Steve's hand as he stretched it out for you to take, helping you to stand, all while his mind reeled at the dialogue the two of you just had. He didn't know how to interpret it. Could there be a hidden meaning, one that couldn't be said in a space like this, only insinuated? Or could he simply be overthinking your interaction?

"Should I leave you guys to the showdown or?" Intentionally, or unintentionally he continued listening to the conversation.

"Although I owe you since last week, I have my own session to go to", his eyes switched from looking at Steve and the smile he sported, to you. You shifted and immediately his attention on you was cut short as his friend looked his way, eyebrows knit together.

He didn't look elsewhere when Steve studied him, or at least that was what he thought he did form his rapid eye movement. Neither did he when he saw the blonde's lips move, yet what in the end defeated him was when you answered, though still not looking his way. He watched you partake in a short conversation, all while not looking towards him, but up at the blonde. Your discussion was silent enough he couldn't hear a thing of what you said, so instead, he hung his head. Feeling how strands of his hair fell forward, shielding his face. What could you have talked about? Why had your eyes been locked at Steve and not his ways like the rest?

What brought him out of his nagging thoughts was the sound of footsteps. When he looked up, he noticed it was Steve coming closer, the blonde having a calm albeit amused expression on his face.

“Didn’t know you for being such a charmer”, he stated, unknowing why the words even left him in the first place, as Steve was close enough to hear, even without their standards.

“Ain’t my job, always been yours”, Bucky scoffed, although couldn't help a smile and a shake of his head to happen. After that, he didn't wait for the question if he was ready to start their training.

During the whole time they warmed up for their spar, he was always conscious of you and the spy in the other end of the gym. Instead of leaving the two of you had engrossed in a conversation. Like before he couldn't hear it and by the distance, he knew he should've been able to usually, which meant that you both purposely had lowered your voices. Though, unlike before, he was able to catch a few words, mainly as your voice had been raised.

"Distraction".

"Piss off".

Bucky felt something tug his lips when he in the corner of his eyes saw you shove her. The spy wasn’t that affected, she merely looked at you, But then suddenly, her eyes flickered to look over your shoulder, her eyes stopping on him. Before the thought of even turning to look at her himself, he noticed a smile spread on her lips before she swiftly looked back at you. Whatever purpose she had done it for, the short moment she had watched him was enough. He didn't think much of it, trying to concentrate on the coming session with Steve, though that became impossible when he heard you loudly exclaim.

Both Steve and Bucky hastily look towards you, puzzled about your sudden outburst. He saw how you, before turning to them burned holes in the spy's head. Something close enough to a grimace conveyed your features, though it disappeared when Steve asked his question.

“You staying?” He heard your answer while walking past the two of them, you would stay and do a few things. He was glad you did, although not in his eyesight, thus he knew it would be hard to concentrate if that had been the case.

Steve's and his sparring began as soon as you headed into further into the gym. Bucky felt it was going good as he’d been the victor in most matches. The same moment they had begun a new round, he saw you emerging once more, only to stop at the machine closest to them. You were in no harms way when you uncaringly of them started evenly piling weights on either side of the pole. He didn’t think much of it until you began the exercise. You squatted, small puffs of breath starting to leave you, then grunts at the last sets came. The same moment he understood he'd made the same mistake as you, to divide his attention, he felt the matt connect with his back.

“Shouldn’t I be your primary focus at the moment?” Steve smirked down at him, his voice had been faint, but he still prayed you didn’t hear what he said.

”You boys doing good?” Bucky looked your way. He saw you standing up and leaning at the padded part of the machine, eyes switching between him and Steve. He remembered he was on the floor when he heard a chuckle from above, though it was Steve's answer that made him shot up.

”Yeah yeah, only minor distractions that’s all”, he restrained his urge to throw Steve down into the matt.

”Sure, play safe don’t want anyone of you to get hurt”.

”You don’t want to join us?” Bucky felt he was at his last strand to tackle Steve to the ground now, his fingers itching to do so, the only thing stopping him was your next words.

”No not really, I would be pinned to the matt more than standing up if going up against any of you”, the same second his eyes snapped from Steve to you, the image entered his mind. Goddamit, he internally swore.

While his mind spiralled, he heard your excuse in the distance although it wasn't until Bucky saw you near the exit he looked up. In the same moment, he saw you halt and turn around, a perplexed expression on your face. At first, he hadn't understood why at least not until his brain caught up with him and remembered the word he had called out. Scrambling for anything else then what was on his thought previously and had made him call out "later", he blurted out the next thing coming up.

“Talking session?” He felt how the questioned sounded strained, but it seemed you didn’t catch on to that as you smiled while answering him. Before disappearing, he noticed you nodded goodbye to Steve, who possibly saw you over his shoulder.

The moment you were out of sight, Bucky raised a hand to rub his face, sigh rattling out as he thanked God for his narrow escape. Though as he turned around, he was met by a grinning Steve.

“I think the last time you acted like this was when you fancied Dot", he had laughter in his voice as he said it.

"I don't fancy her", he quickly deflected the suggestion that he did with you, feeling how his heart picked up its pace enough for it to bang against his ribcage. While Bucky fiddled with his fingers, Steve tipped his head to the side, arching an eyebrow at the brunettes clearly readable display.

"If you say so", he said, walking back to ready his stance for the next sparring round, Bucky doing the same. Although before the session began, the blonde man said. "You're just lucky she ain't got a man already when your eyes follow her as they do".

The sentence caught him off guard, enough that Steve got the upper hand quickly. But his thoughts could only concentrate on one thing. The two of you weren't together.

You’d gotten it confirmed that Steve and Bucky would be joining the movie night. Steve you weren’t surprised by, he usually joined in, on the other hand, it would be Bucky’s first time. You’d praised him for it, genuine happiness in your voice at another one of his steps of getting comfortable with crowds.

However, your reaction had earned you a bugging from Tony, as he continuously asked why he rarely got comments of praise like that from you. In the end, you’d silenced him by saying that he already had a girlfriend for that and if you also would compliment him, his already too big ego would explode.  I would die happy was the statement that made you slap him in his chest, both Nat and Steve chuckling at your antics. Bucky, however, only gave a smile.

The former soldier was still bothered by how close you and Stark seemed to be. However, what pulled him from his annoyance was the words you just said.  You already have a girlfriend for that. Most possible, you didn't notice the way you said it nor how it made something stir inside him. He thought he had the feeling under control, but when you turned to him and said  'you shouldn't listen to the joker beside you ', he slipped up. Sure don't do doll.

He caught himself saying it aloud and bit his lip afterwards as if it would help him take back his words. However, the sudden fright he got when first uttering them, melted away when he received a heartwarming smile from you.

As Tony once more said something worthy of your glare and wit, which in fact made him put his arms up in defence, Bucky felt Steve's eyes on him. Glancing towards his friends slightly, he noticed the knowing look from him. He knew if you hadn't been there, the blonde would've said the words he wanted aloud, yet at the moment he didn't need to hear them, as they were expressed in his face.

“Punk”, Bucky muttered under his breath and knew the owner of the nickname would hear it without any problem. And indeed had he been correct, as a silent chuckle ripple through Steve.

"Well, its time for me to leave this merry gathering, as I have other business to attend", Tony suddenly clapped his hand, making both super soldiers look towards him. As Bucky did, he noticed you already had raised an eyebrow at the retreating billionaire.

“Don’t make planning a movie-night sound like such a business meeting”, you called after him, making everyone, including the man it was directed to, laugh.

"I think its time we start making our way too, even though we have a better excuse then Stark", Nat then said, making you pick up your bowl of cereal that had stood untouched since Tony entered.

"You probably right, even though I wished I could skip today's training", you muttered the last part while placing the utensils in the dishwasher. "See you boys tonight then", you waved goodbye to the soldiers overtaking your places, both answering in their own fashion.

Though Steve and Bucky stayed for longer having their breakfast, the two of them had made plans to meet up with Sam later so soon enough they also left the common-room. After a quick change of clothes, the pair headed down to wait in the lounge outside of the gym. To Bucky's disappointment, he hadn't been able to catch a glimpse of your training, as it seemed you and Nat was done long before the came.

“Maybe you should take one of your questions to just ask her if she wants to train with you”, Bucky had aimlessly stared through the gym entrance, studying the same scene over and over. However, at Steves proposition, he turned towards him brows furrowed. Though even before he had thought of an answer a voice cut in.

“Train with who?” Both of them turned to see Sam walking towards them.

“No one”, Bucky didn’t bother uncrossing his arms as he stood up, starting to head into the training area.

“What kind of answer is that?” The two men walked behind Bucky, Sam giving Steve a questioning look which he only smirked and shrugged at. “Oh, I’m going to get the answer out of you!” Sam exclaimed as soon he understood that he brunette walking in front of him hid something, enough for the captain to even tease. When hearing Sam's excitement and knowing he would need to withstand his pestering about the subject, Bucky groaned.

Last time you had seen Bucky, he seemed to have been energised after his morning jog, though now you couldn't say the same. Thus when he'd walked in between Steve and Sam, who seemed to have joined them sometime during the day, he looked like he would be able to sleep through the whole night. Although you guessed it wasn't only from their midday training session, at least not if Sam's cheerful attitude was anything to go by.

You bit your lip to try and contain a chuckle, as you knew almost no one could rile the brunette up the way he could. You weren't surprised about the fact, especially not since Bucky and Sam had become the closest pair beside Steve and him, perhaps even yourself and the former soldier.

“Hi psycho”, the voice made you snap out of your thoughts and momentarily you broke your eye contact with the man to roll your eyes at his greeting.

“Nice to have you here to Wilson. Do you have the suit on, just in case I would attempt to throw you out of the window?” He laughed at your comeback.

“Nice to meet you as always”, he hugged you when close enough, your interaction being closely watched by Bucky. When he let you out of your brief hug, you looked behind him, eyes switching between the two soldiers.

“And how are you, gents?” Steve smiled at your wording, noticing the way you almost stood on the ball of your feet, buzzing.

“What made you get into such a good mood?” He chuckled.

“Oh just got some revenge on Nat, made her introduce herself to the matt more times then I did this time”, you smiled stupidly, the content visible on you face.

“Stop bragging as if you didn’t fall on your arse as well”, you heard Nat call from further into the room, making you chuckle. “I’ll make you regret doing it next time!”

“Come at me!” You laughed back. 

Bucky looked at you, he never thought he’d seen you so at ease and genuinely happy. As you looked back to him and the others, smile still not fading, you cocked your head to explain them to follow you.

As you led them into the room, Steve and Sam by your side while Bucky walked slightly behind, he admired you. You were lazily clad, hair untouched but falling in natural beauty. He almost forgot to look around the room he went into, but it didn’t go unnoticed. It was like a more spacious, but a comfier, common-room without any other necessities needed then to watch a movie. He thought he saw a table in one corner with a popcorn machine on it and with the scent in the air, he guessed he hadn't mistaken it.

As his eyes tracked the couches, he noticed most already had taken their seat, though one lounging place was left. It was the one furthest back and it was more than able to fit the three of them remaining. As he sat down, he noticed Natasha sitting on the couch in front of them. The remaining space of the couch seemed to be occupied as well and when he saw your hoodie thrown over an armrest, he got the answer about who.

“You guys want anything? It’ll be a few more minutes before the first movie starts, so I can get you something”, he turned his head to you, standing and ready to walk over to the countertop with snacks.

“You know what I prefer, as long as it is sweet”, Sam answered and Steve said he could come with you and help, ever the gentleman. Expectantly you looked at Bucky, waiting for his answer.

“I’ll be fine”, you smiled and nodded, you and Steve heading off in your hunt to retrieve the snacks.

“Keep looking at her like that and it ain’t me she’ll throw out of the window”, he heard the teasing from beside him and turned to see Sam take a seat as well. He tried glaring at him but knew it was useless as the man had been able to pry the answer out of him earlier and in no way would let it go.

“Oh throwing him out is the last thing she would”, Natasha had turned around, her arm resting on the back of the couch as she looked at him. Sam had broken out in laughter when hearing it, while Bucky felt his cheeks beginning to tint.  Since when had he started to react like this? He slumped down against the armrest, mindlessly staring at your taken spot diagonally from him.

“Hey, catch!” His instinct made him look up, although when he saw you didn’t aim for him, he tried relaxing. What you’d thrown was a bag of mixed sweats towards Sam, one he caught effortlessly. Once looking inside it, his face lit up.

“You know me too well”.

“Hard to not when you keep bugging me about my taste in candy”, you waved him off. Then you turned to him, handing over a small cone of popcorn. “Thought you at least would snack on something and seeing as you ain’t that familiar to the rest of the things on the table I thought traditional popcorn would suit”, he took the cone, uttering a small thanks thinking your concern almost were unnecessary. You smiled back, heading towards your own seat. Steve, in his turn, walked past Bucky, sitting down in the middle of the couch.

“Did you tell her?” Steve turned to look at him, Sam too busy indulging in his sweets to do the same.

“Tell her what?” Steve dumbly repeated which made Bucky wave the cone, pointing out his all-time favourite movie snack in his hand. Steve raised his eyebrows, a smile tugging his lips upwards although he still only shrugged as an answer. A few moments of tranquillity went by, most having their own conversation or eating their snacks, before Clint standing the furthest down in the room called.

“Hey Y/N! It’s gonna be a historical action movie, right up your alley!”

“Oh stop bugging me about it!” You called back, earning a glance from Bucky, which then looked at his blonde friend a silent question what the conversation was about.

“She’s a big fan of history”, he answered silently, so you wouldn’t hear. “She even dragged me along to the exhibition about myself once, not to forget you”, he continued with a chuckle. Bucky knew that you’d gotten to know from Steve who he was, but he never thought that you would pull the  Captain America along to his own part of the museum to get a private tour. As Steve had told him this, the arguing continued back and forth between you and Clint, earning more ears by the minute, including his own.

“It’s me and the fossils then!” You hollered back, what you answered unknown to Bucky, though he didn't miss your finger jutting back at him and Steve.

“Well ain’t my problem you have a kink for older men”, before Bucky even had a chance to comprehend the sentence, a pillow was thrown with deadly accuracy down towards Clint. He caught it, although not without it smacking him in the chest first. It was then you looked back, an apologising expression on your face. He found himself laughing lowly to it, equal amount by surprise of what just had been said, but also the small blush covering your cheeks.

At your remark, Bucky remembered the time you had asked what his interest was and he'd said history and science. Though you had asked him the question of why on both, he'd noticed your eyes lit up when the subject of history was delved further into.

Forver taglist: @flowerchild1216 @haven-in-writing @krystallynx @lancsnerd @thejamesoldier

Series taglist: @buckysforeverprincess​

[dakotacrisis]

Transferred (3)

Standoffs, salt, and sappy moments.

___

The days leading up to Marinette’s goodbye party and subsequent departure from her school were...difficult. Word spread quickly that Marinette was transferring schools. It was a somber affair. No one approached Marinette about it. She wasn’t even sure they really believed that Marinette was actually leaving. Surely their comments that she should leave the school weren’t to be taken literally. It was the middle of term after all. This had to be a rumour that started spreading after the chaos of yesterday.

Marinette sat alone in the courtyard munching lazily on a muffin and flipping through a magazine. She hadn’t spoken a word to anyone all morning. Adrien was making up a photoshoot that got rained out a couple days ago leaving Marinette stranded.

“Marinette,” Alya approached her, “Can we talk?”

“Of course,” Marinette closed the magazine. A small spark of hope fluttering in her chest as Alya took the seat next to her.

“There’s no easy way to bring this up so I’m just gonna say it. There is a rumour going around school that you’re transferring schools. That is just a rumour right?”

Marinette took a deep breath and shook her head. “No. I am leaving at the end of the week. I’m transferring to College Lycee Carnot.”

“Oh…” Alya took a sudden interest in the concrete floor. “Is it because of what happened yesterday?”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at her. “What other reason would I have?”

“I know that yesterday wasn’t great but to transfer schools because of one bad day?”

“It’s not just one bad day, Alya. It’s been an entire month of bad days. The pranks, the sabotage, the manipulation, the lies--” Marinette took another calming breath, “I can’t take it anymore.”

“I know that things haven’t been great. I’ve noticed that you’ve been stressed out lately and maybe I should have done something, said something earlier, so we could have avoided this mess.” Alya peered back at Marinette, “I don’t want to believe that you stole all that stuff. You’re a bit of a spaz but you’re not a thief. I don’t believe Lila is either. It’s complicated is what I’m trying to say.”

“Whatever,” Marinette muttered under her breath. She was done trying to convince the others that Lila was the devil. It was a waste of her time to try.

“Hey, I’m trying to be reasonable here,” Alya huffed, “You’re my friend, Marinette. You’re a good person and with all the stress you’ve been under you were bound to snap eventually. It’s a human response. But taking it out on Lila and the class was too far.”

“Alya--”

“Then going ahead and storming off to switch schools is a dramatic I didn’t think you capable of. You got in a fight, it didn’t reflect well on you so now you’re running away instead of owning up to the fact that you were in the wrong this time.”

“You haven’t listened to a thing I’ve said!”

“Or maybe you aren’t listening to what I’ve been saying. You don’t like Lila, fine, you’re allowed to not like people. But what about the rest of us? We’re your friends and you got mad at us for defending someone you were unfairly blaming for your streak of bad luck. Don’t we deserve an apology? Is your personal pride worth losing all your friends? Are you actually that vain?”

Marinette smashed the remainder of her muffin on top of Alya’s head. She didn’t fully realize what she had done till it already happened. Angry tears leaking from the corner of her eyes. “My friends would believe me. Since no one does I guess that means I’m losing nothing.”

Alya kept opening and closing her mouth trying to form a coherent sentence. Marinette got up and left cursing herself for losing her muffin for such a short lived moment of satisfaction.

That spark of hope from earlier had died completely. If she was taking her frustration out on her supposed best friend then what hope left was there? No. Now only a smoking sense of absolute discontent lingered.

When class started again Marinette wasn’t surprised to see that Alya had moved to the empty seat next to Nino. Adrien took Alya’s former seat next to Marinette. He tried asking her what had happened while he was gone but she shook her head. She didn’t want to relive that conversation again. Not when Alya was right there.

Adrien walked Marinette back home after school and she explained the situation to him then. He listened and cringed when she got to the part of her smushing the muffin on Alya’s head. Just another bad decision in a long line of bad snap decisions she had been making this month. She wouldn’t apologize though. Brushing a few crumbs out of her hair was nothing compared to the sensation of Marinette having her heart ripped out and stomped on everytime she entered the school grounds.

“I don’t think she’s gonna come to the farewell party after that.” Marinette flopped down on her couch. “Are you sure you won’t just cancel it?”

“I already ordered a cake so yes it is.” He joked as he took the seat next to her, “I know this sucks but can I get a smile? A little smile?”

“I don’t wanna…” Marinette pouted.

“Fine, that’s fine,” he scooted closer, “But what if I…” he started tickling her and she squirmed away with a laugh. “There it is. There’s a happy Marinette.”

“You’re ridiculous.” She sighed. If there was anything good to take away from this horrible month it was that it had certainly brought Marinette and Adrien closer. She was still a nervous wreck when she even thought of him in a romantic way but these dumb moments were easy. He was a friend in a time when she didn’t have any.

Adrien’s phone beeped. “I gotta go, the Gorilla is waiting for me.” Adrien stood up again, “If you need someone to talk to you know how to get ahold of me. See you tomorrow, Marinette.”

“See you,” She walked him to the door. He gave her a quick hug and went down the steps leaving Marinette with a dorky smile plastered on her face. Of course only Adrien would be able to lure a genuine smile out of her after such a disastrous day.

Marinette’s last days at Dupont flew by. She hadn’t said a word to anyone other than Adrien the entire time. Finally it was the day of her farewell party. Adrien had a set up in an empty classroom for the small party. While no one from their class was willing to come he had convincingly invited Aurore and Wayhem from one of the other classes to come. He also invited Kagami which Marinette wasn’t too keen on but if they were going to attend school together they might as well try to get along.

Marinette was packing up her locker when she felt a presence behind her. She turned around and didn’t let anything show as she came face to face with Lila.

“What do you want?” she turned her back on her as she continued to empty her locker.

“I came to say goodbye. I didn’t think it would be that easy to get rid of you. You have the same annoying tenacity as another self-righteous pigtailed worm. But then again, you aren’t very super. At least Lady-barf can claim to have skills even if she owes them all to her magic toys. You don’t have anything like that though.” Lila was practically purring with satisfaction, “You’re just a sad little nobody that can’t tell when she’s outmatched. You’re doing the right thing by leaving. Without you getting in my way I’ll be running this school. I’ll probably even have Adrien wrapped around my little finger before too long.”

“Insult me all you want, Lila. Your words mean nothing to me. You’re a compulsively lying brat that needs to deceive others to fulfill some unending need for recognition and acceptance.” Marinette closed her locker and looked her enemy dead in the eye, “I’m not leaving cause I’m scared. I’m leaving because I deserve better than this. And I pity you.”

“Pity me?” Lila narrowed her eyes, “I won.”

“No. You got me to leave the school, yes. You got what you wanted but you haven’t won anything. I pity you because you are so scared that you could never be accepted for who you are that you need to make everyone else feel lesser so that you may stand a chance to be in their good graces.”

“That--that is not--you don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“They don’t know the real you. So they can’t really be your friends. If they knew who you truly are they would hate you as much as they hate me. You know that’s the truth and it terrifies you. You won’t be able to keep up the facade forever and whenever that mask of yours breaks the backlash will be more gruesome than you can even imagine.” Marinette collected her things and moved past Lila, “Have a nice life, Lila Rossi.”

She walked up to the classroom and looked at her tiny farewell party. It wasn’t anything special, just some food and drinks, a handmade farewell banner, and some music. Adrien and Wayhem were talking by the windows. Aurore was sitting on a table sipping some soda and watching Kagami and Chloe argue. What was Chloe doing here?

“Marinette!” Adrien was the first to notice her, “I know it isn’t much…”

“It’s perfect.” she assured him. “Surprised to see Chloe here though.”

“She asked if she could come.” he shrugged.

“Okay then…” Strange turn of events but its not like she was expecting this to be a party for the ages.

“Hey Kagami, Chloe, Aurore,” Marinette approached the girls, “Thanks for coming.”

“Marinette!” Aurore jumped up and hugged her, “I was bummed to hear that you were transferring and when I heard Adrien was throwing this little shindig I had to come. Gonna miss having you around.”

“Thanks, Aurore, I needed to hear that.” She wasn’t sure how much Aurore actually knew about why Marinette was leaving but it was nice to have someone besides Adrien sad to see her go.

Marinette turned to Kagami next. “Hi, I guess this is more of a hello then a goodbye for us.”

“I will admit that I was shocked when Adrien told me about your transfer to my school. I’ve really only heard good things about you.” Kagami said, “Then when he explained who this Lila character was things became clear as to why you are choosing to leave.”

“Honestly, Lila is faker than Sabrina’s knock-off Jimmy Choo tote.” Chloe rolled her eyes, “I could smell the pile of crap spewing from her mouth before it made it past her lips.”

“You know Lila is a liar? I thought you were just as taken in with her lies as everyone else.” Marinette couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.

“Please, I’m not that dense. The way she hangs all over my poor Adrikins is so annoying and over the top that it couldn’t possibly be genuine.” Chloe looked back at said boy who was thankfully absent from this conversation, “I think your crush on him is ridiculous too but I at least respect that you seem to genuinely like Adrien for who he is. Lila only wants to be with him because it’ll spite others and make her look good. It’s all about her image.”

Wow. An actual compliment from Chloe? As close to a compliment as Marinette was going to get anyway. At the end of the day Marinette could see put aside her own issues with Chloe to see why Adrien defended her so. The mayor’s daughter had a heart in that designer clad body of hers somewhere. Maybe she’d pull a Grinch Christmas miracle and her shriveled heart would grow three sizes one day.

The party continued on and Marinette was pleasantly surprised at how nice it was. The few people that attended were nice and the atmosphere calm. Wayhem had a plethora of bad jokes that had everyone splitting their sides with laughter. The six of them even split up into teams to play a couple games during their time before they had to start cleaning up.

When everything was packed up and everyone started to leave Marinette gave her final goodbyes. She swapped numbers with Wayhem and Aurore. She liked them and they made her promise they would hang out again soon. Kagami told Marinette she looked forward to seeing her in school Monday before heading out.

Then there was Chloe.

The two girls had been enemies since they were little kids. Marinette’s departure should have been a celebration on both ends given their history. But with a common enemy and a mutual friend in Adrien things had changed somewhat.

“Thanks for coming, Chloe.” Marinette finally said, “I know we’ve never gotten along but today wasn’t terrible.”

“And I suppose there will be a small part of me that will miss our classroom rumbles, Dupain-Cheng.” Chloe smirked, “All the others are too spineless to think of going toe to toe with me. You were my only real challenge.”

“I’m sure you’ll find plenty of others to have a good argument with,  Bourgeois.” Marinette stuck out a hand, “I’m counting on you to put Lila through the ringer while I’m gone.”

Chloe grasped Marinette’s hand firmly and shook it, “If she comes at me she’ll wish she never entered this school.”

With that Chloe left and it was just Marinette and Adrien standing at the school entrance.

“Getting along with Chloe now? Never thought I’d see the day.”

“I would call it more of mutual tolerance than getting along.” Marinette looked back at the school, “I know that this was my decision and that it’s the right decision but why does it have to hurt so much?”

“It will hurt a lot less than if you stayed under Lila’s thumb.” Adrien told her. “If it wasn’t for the fact that I think my father would pull me back to homeschooling if I asked for a transfer I’d come with you.”

“And it means the world to me that you would even consider that. But you have a place here. Lila isn’t out to destroy you and our classmates don’t hate your guts. It’d make no sense for you to leave.”

“Doesn’t mean I still can’t feel guilty about all this.” He sighed, “All this time I thought that by ignoring Lila and not picking fights that things would be fine. That the universe would double down on her or something. But while I was off living in my ignorance you were suffering. I’m a terrible friend.”

“Adrien--”

“Now you’re leaving because I can’t fix this and everyone is going to think bad things about you when they should be apologizing for ever believing Lila. You’re hurting and life sucks and I wish I could bring everything back to the way it was before Lila.”

“Adrien.” Marinette touched his cheek, “You’re more tore up about this than I am.”

“Yeah, I’ve been a crappy friend.” he murmured, “If I had just--”

“Stop. No more feeling guilty about this. It won’t help anything.” she ordered. “Just see me off with a smile.”

Adrien pulled her in for a long tight hug that helped put some of the broken parts of her morale back together. “I’m gonna miss you, Marinette.”

“I’m switching schools, I’m not dead.” she chuckled, “I’ll miss you too, Adrien.”

“If you ever need someone to talk to I’m just a phone call away.” they stepped out of the hug all too soon. The Gorilla honked the car horn. “I gotta get going.”

“See you soon, Adrien.” Marinette waved to him.

“See you soon,” he waved back and rushed to the car.

Marinette watched them pull away from the curb and drive off. She took a deep breath and turned for home leaving the school behind her once and for all.

___

(1) (2) (4)

[bthenoise]

Q&A: Ronnie Radke Talks ‘The Drug In Me Is You’ Going Gold, Touring With Escape The Fate & The Future Of Falling In Reverse

In the ten-plus years since the start of hard rock outfit Falling In Reverse, larger-than-life frontman Ronnie Radke has seen various levels of success -- one of them being the recent news of his band’s debut album The Drug In Me Is You selling over 500,000 copies and becoming gold certified by the RIAA. 

In celebration of this news, Radke and Co. have decided to embark on a full US headliner playing their beloved 2011 record from front to back. To make matters even more special, Falling In Reverse has invited The Word Alive as well as Radke’s former band, Escape The Fate, to play alongside them on the Noise Presents The Drug In Me Is Gold Tour. 

With just a few days to go until the highly anticipated trek kicks off, as you can probably imagine, the charismatic vocalist has a lot of feelings heading into the upcoming tour.

“It's super ironic that I'm bringing Escape The Fate on tour because [The Drug In Me Is You] was me singing about how angry I am at them and they're coming on this tour to celebrate the record that I was talking shit about them,” Radke explains. “So we're all just gonna laugh about it, you know?”

Radke later went on to say there’s no ill will between the two scene staples stating, “I never really hold grudges for too long even though that was like a huge deal in my life that they kind of turned their backs on me and kind of bad-mouthed me while I was in jail and stuff. But like, I'm not a guy that holds grudges for too long. I mean, that was the longest grudge I ever held, you know? But over the years, it kind of just disappeared. I've known most of the guys since high school. So it's almost like an unconditional love kind of thing.”

For more from Radke, including the Drug In Me Is You song that was the most challenging to relearn, as well as what the future holds for Falling In Reverse, be sure to read our in-depth Q&A below. Afterward, if you haven’t already, make sure to grab tickets to see Falling In Reverse, Escape The Fate and The Word Alive out on tour here.

The Drug In Me Is You going gold is obviously an incredibly huge accomplishment. What does it mean to you personally?

RONNIE RADKE: I mean, in this day and age, it's such a big deal to me. I mean, I have another [record] that's going gold -- it's pretty close so that'd be a total of a million sales. So for a band that's like a Warped Tour scene band, like generalized as that, it's a pretty big deal because I look at all my peers and I try to see if anybody else has actually had a full record go gold and it's pretty rare. So it's a huge accomplishment for me, for sure. Especially, because it's an entire record and not just a single like most of these bands. Like the successful bands will [usually] get a gold single or two but not the entire record. That's crazy to me.

Looking back on the record nine years after its release, what stands out the most to you about it now? 

How stupid some of the lyrics are [laughs]. Straight up. I mean, not stupid. I guess I was young, you know. So I guess it was growing as an artist and becoming more self-aware and stuff like that -- singing old lyrics about like, you know, how angry I am at somebody. It's just funny, actually. We laugh at rehearsal. We're like, “Can you believe I said this!?” And we just laugh.  

You're getting ready to play The Drug In Me Is You in full out on tour. Are there any songs you’re most excited to bring back and play live?

Yeah. It's super ironic that I'm bringing Escape The Fate on tour because that record was me singing about how angry I am at them and they're coming on this tour to celebrate the record that I was talking shit about them. So we're all just gonna laugh about it, you know? But um, it'll probably be like “Tragic Magic” because that's a song that's like, completely directed at Craig Mabbitt. I might even have him come sing on it or something just to be funny.

That has to be pretty special to get to celebrate this accomplishment with Escape The Fate. Is it nice looking back and thinking how much you've progressed as a person to be able to put all that stuff in the past?

Yeah, I never really hold grudges for too long even though that was like a huge deal in my life that they kind of turned their backs on me and kind of bad-mouthed me while I was in jail and stuff. But like, I'm not a guy that holds grudges for too long. I mean, that was the longest grudge I ever held, you know? But over the years, it kind of just disappeared. I've known most of the guys since high school. So it's almost like an unconditional love kind of thing.

Yeah, and looking at all the recent events with Kobe Byrant thinking about his feud with Shaquille O’Neal and now Shaq is totally willing to let all that go... like, it’s 2020. Time to let those beefs go.

100%. Yeah, we've been cool for a long time. Like, it's been years. Some people on Twitter still think we don't like each other. It just blows my mind because there's like pictures of us hanging out. We tweet at each other, we follow each other. It just blows my mind sometimes.

So back to The Drug In Me Is You. Was there a song that was challenging to relearn at all? 

So funny you're saying this because yes. Yes, I was stressed actually. Super stressed because of a song called “Don't Mess With Ouija Boards,” which is literally the dumbest song. I just think it's so funny because it's like the lyrics are so dumb to me. They're cool for a scene band but they're just, you know, I don't know. It's like that cringy kinda look back when you had that emo haircut. Did you ever have an emo haircut? 

Sadly, no. I was close with long hair though.

So you never look back and like cringe at old photos of you with long hair or anything like that?

I think I used to rep a bandana at one point so now I’m like, “Hmm probably not the best look.” So yeah, definitely cringeworthy.

[Laughs] Yeah. So pretty much those ["Don't Mess With Ouija Boards"] lyrics are really funny. We've never played that song live at all. Like, not one time in the entire history of the band. So people are looking forward to me playing that song the most. And that song's like four different tempos. Like it shifts between four different tempos so we have to put these cues in the tracks where we have to slow down drastically and then speed up drastically. So that was a bit challenging. I didn't realize how challenging it would be but we got it now. 

As for Escape The Fate’s set on this upcoming tour, we imagine they might play songs off Dying Is Your Latest Fashion. If so, would you want to join them on stage at all?

If they play Dying Is Your Latest Fashion?

Yeah, if they play songs off that record. 

No way, that’d be dumb if they did that. I really hope they’re not going to do that.

So you haven’t had any conversations with them regarding those songs?

The reason I say that is because if they played Dying Is Your Lastest Fashion, there's pretty much no original members in Escape the Fate. So they'd literally just be covering me before I go on stage. I was going to do it though and then I would bring a couple of their members out on stage with me -- which would make more sense. It would actually be hilarious if they performed my songs before I went on stage. So who knows [laughs].

[Laughs] Maybe they can warm the crowd up first to get people ready then you do it second and everyone would be happy.

That would be sooo funny. That'd be so awkward but that'd be funny.

Definitely. So lastly, as you look ahead seeing the success of singles like “Popular Monster” and “Drugs,” what excites you most about the future of Falling In Reverse?

Just the day-to-day kind of thing [where] you just never know what's going to happen next I guess. Like that's what I love about being able to be in that position now. Because a lot of bands, you kind of got to have growing pains in order for people to look at you that way. Like, the “you never know what you're going to get” kind of thing instead of like, “We know what's going to happen with this band. When they put out their next record, it's gonna sound like this.” I would much rather it be like, "What is he going to put out next? It could be anything.” Instead of like, you know, the same old same old kind of thing that you're expecting. So you just never know. I mean, it could be like a fucking jazz song, I guess, or a country song. Who knows.

Do you see yourself continuing to go the single route for the next few, maybe months or so?

Yep! For a long time, yeah. It's so funny because a couple other big bands like big, big bands -- I won't name their names -- but like I heard them saying “We're gonna go the single route.” I was like, “That's so funny because I'm doing that and no one ever talks about me doing anything.” They're just like, “I'm the one that's doing it.” You know? I guess I just don't really talk about doing it I just kind of do it and not really say anything about it.

Well, guess this is your opportunity then. You’re going to do some singles for a while and see how that goes?

Yeah, I started the singles with “Losing My Mind.” I don't know even how long... has it been two years? A year and a half? Something like that. And then I just kind of connected all the songs and videos together and then the next one and then the next one and then the next one. I feel like I've just honed in more because we're an ADD nation. All we do is look at our phones all day and we get everything instantaneously [and we get] instant gratification by clicking on things. Songs are getting shorter because people's attention spans are getting shorter. So why would you release a full album when you can just hone in on one song and drop that every three months with a music video? That way the viewer is satisfied and their ears are satisfied at the same time -- like sensory overload -- and everything is focused on one thing. And then three months later, it happens again. So [that’s the plan] instead of giving somebody an album where they like three or four songs and they don't listen to the rest of the album. It's just what's happening nowadays, you know?

[p-redux]

I Thought We Were Done, But I Guess Not...More Draaaamaaa Coming Right Up!  I Know It’s Long But There Will Be TEA SPILLED. :-) Hope you read it all the way to the end...

Below is how ContemplatingOutlander responded to my post pointing out that the reason the MAJORITY of NST have her blocked is HER treatment of them, and my suggestion that she take some time for self-reflection. 

Let me offer some more TRUTHS and some clarification that should have been done a long time ago. Here we go...

CO, a wise person knows that there are 3 sides to every story: hers, his, or in this case, hers again and the truth. So, whatever my “former friends and acquaintances” have told you is one sided and only from their perspective. Obvi. I would like to clarify some things I have kept my mouth shut about for far too long. Here they are...

You don’t have the complete picture, CO. But that’s what happens when you only listen to people who have a vendetta--their hate clouds their judgment and ability to be completely honest. I am not on my “4th or 5th inner circle.” I still have my ORIGINAL Twitter DM chat inner circle I have had for 3 years, it’s just missing a few backstabbing members, with whom I parted ways going on 2 years now. And that’s who you have talked to, not the people who have had my back this whole time. If the “former friends and acquaintances” you talked to were right about me, and I was this horrible and deceitful person, there would be NO ONE left in my inner circle, YET they are still with me all these years later. And as a result of their continued loyalty and real friendship over the last 3 years, I have recently shared things with them that I have not shared with anyone. They know my real name, and they know the identity of my original industry source, among other things. No one else does. 

You know who’s not in the group anymore? Someone with whom, at the other members’ pleading, I had to have regular “talks” in DMs because the group members were so tired of her controlling manner in chat (no surprise that she’s one of your favorite people from that group...birds of a feather, I guess). Someone whose stressful job and tough situation with her son started to affect her thinking and made her very paranoid. Despite me showing her concrete proof that negated who she thought I was in real life, she didn’t believe me. Someone whose physical health problems caused her to have mental health problems and become very angry and lash out at me. Someone who was the source for the private Tony pics at the Outlander premiere in April 2015 and whose identity I have continued to keep private, even to my own detriment, yet she has had no problems betraying me. (note: this person is not my Tony family source. That’s someone else). Two individuals who run a well known and popular Outlander fan Twitter account whose identity I have also kept private because they don’t want the fandom to know that they run the account, and that they were in my inner circle. Someone who said she was married and rich and turned out to be totally lying, yet she had no problem badmouthing me behind my back, accusing me of lying about MY identity. And various other women, who although they were allowed to be completely Anonymous in the group (their Twitter names were Anon and in group they did not divulge personal info about themselves) yet somehow I was chastised by group members for not sharing my real identity. In addition, for a short period, I stupidly let into group a former shipper who I KNEW was playing both sides. But I guess the info she could divulge about her ex shipper friends was just too juicy to pass up, so she joined for a bit. And, as I knew would happen, ended up being a huge back stabber, but that was not a surprise. I knew better.  

CO, THOSE are the assorted  “former friends and acquaintances” who have talked to YOU, to Extreme Shippers, etc about me. Ya think they might be a wee biased and unreliable in retelling their version of the truth? Um, yeah. But despite me KNOWING that some of them have talked shit about me to YOU, to Extreme Shippers, to anyone who would listen and REVEALED some things we all swore we would take to the grave, I “big, bad Purv” have NOT betrayed THEIR confidence. What I’ve written above is the most I have ever shared. And I do feel badly, and somewhat cringe that I’m doing it, even though I’m not revealing anyone’s name, or any identifying details, but this is how far I’m being pushed. CO you have NO idea what you are stepping into. The amount of secrets I have kept private is staggering. Is that something that a the terrible person I’m portrayed to be would do? NO. A terrible person, the minute her ex friends started spilling tea, would have spilled right back, and blasted all their private info too. BUT I didn’t do that. Because I’m not a terrible person. Do you know how much easier my life would have been if I had told everyone who my Tony pic source was and posted all those pics publicly? But I didn’t. Despite being stabbed in the back by my former friends. Do you know how many secrets I could have shared that would have cleared my name in certain situations, and prevented some of the attacks on me? A LOT. But I didn’t, because doing so would have entailed betraying people’s trust and despite all my faults, I wasn’t willing to do that.

So, CO, when you make veiled threats insinuating that my “former friends and acquaintances” “didn’t appreciate being played” and therefore they may continue to betray me, what you don’t realize is THEY PLAYED ME. And they PLAYED YOU. They didn’t tell you the WHOLE TRUTH. They KNOW that even though they are privy to many of my secrets, I ALSO HOLD ALL OF THEIR SECRETS--secrets they didn’t tell you. Once we parted ways I assumed we would be at a detente. If they tried to take me down, they knew they would come with me. I underestimated how dangerously they liked to live, or how emotionally unstable some of them turned out to be. And so they continued to betray me and I SAID NOTHING. But if you or anyone else continues to push me, that will change. Enough is enough. All their secrets and their names I have kept under lock and key, THAT’S my insurance policy, should they, or YOU choose to take this further. 

The same goes for Extreme Shippers who also talked to my “former friends and acquaintances,” and like to talk shit about me. It was always understood that there is also a detente there, since ES know that everyone knows most, if not all, their REAL IDENTITIES. The only ES who is Anon is Jess. Any Extreme Shippers dox me, find me, find out my real identity, and try to mess with my RL and all I gotta do is go down the list of NON-ANON ES: Lauren, Julia, Kim, Nipuna, Sherri, Leslie, Deirdre, Trish, Erin, Angie, Stephanie, Marcy, Suzanne, Lynn, Jo, among MANY others. I’m sure fellow ES wouldn’t want to be the catalyst for that. So THAT’S my insurance policy on that side. As for Puffy, I hear she’s still at it with her “investigation” of me and fleecing her minions of their hard earned money, I stopped looking a long time ago. She can keep going, but I hope she knows the minute she finds my real identity and messes with my RL, her bestie, co-owner of her blog, and partner in crime, Amanda E.S.H will be getting a knock on her door from the authorities. THAT’S my insurance policy on that side.   

For now you’ve been splashing around in the kiddie pool, CO, you want to get in the deep end with the big girls? Be prepared to SWIM. Again, I suggest you STAND DOWN, Doc. You blog on your blog and leave me alone, and I will blog on my blog and leave you alone. Like a fellow NST said, “no one is drowning kittens here.” Fandom isn’t supposed to be so serious, this is supposed to be FUN. I’ve been playing nice, and I will continue to do so. I am nice, to people who are nice to me. But do not mistake my continued silence all these years for weakness, you push me too far and the bitch I’ve been made out to be, aka “Big bad Purv” WILL come out. Mark me. 

PS: Yes, I have people here on Tumblr who I talk to in DM regularly and consider my friends and inner circle here. That group is separate from my original Twitter DM chat, who I still maintain. None of the people in the Twitter group chat overlap with the people in Tumblr DMs. Two totally separate groups. And I appreciate all of you so much. :-*

We done now? *cracks neck, shakes it off* Okay drama session is over, can we go back to some actual fun now? JFC.

[bts-svt-mx]

Maid For You (Part 2) Taehyung x Reader

Author: bts-svt-mx

Taehyung x Reader

Jungkook x Reader

Rating: Fluff, M, eventual smut if i get to it lol

Tags: Slow burn, Enemies to Lovers AU, Idol! Taehyung, Taehyung x Reader, Jungkook x Reader, Hoseok, mentions of other members

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 (M), 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

Word Count: 2,000

Description: Wanting to get out of your parents house and experience what the world had to offer is way more expensive than people tell you it will be. So when your glamorous “manager to the stars” cousin Hoseok hooks you up with a  job as the live-in maid for a hillside, massive mansion, you feel as though life might actually be looking up. That is until the mansion’s absentee high profile celebrity owner surprises you by moving back in leaving you to wonder if this mansion is big enough for you and his huge ego. 

“Not that I’m not enjoying the show… but may I ask,” Kim Taehyung, Grammy winning world famous pop star, looks you up and down as his features twist into something more stern, angry even. “Who are you and what are you doing in my house?”

You were going to kill Hoseok.

Chapter 2:

They say to never meet your idols, and after today, you think you know why.

There you are, in front of one of your favorite singers in the whole world and all you can do is stand there looking like a cat caught with his hand in the fishbowl.

The utter look of displeasure plastered on his face made you feel uneasy.  You can’t help but stare blankly at him taking in his rude tone of voice.

Is this real? Have the chemicals just gotten to your head? You thought you had read the labels and made sure they were safe but you probably should have opened up a window or- “Hello?” Snap, snap, snap. Kim Taehyung’s hand is now directly in front of your face snapping repeatedly.  “What, are you suddenly mute now?” He scoffs moving out of your immediate personal space once again.

Curse your awkward staring. You always knew you had a bad habit of staring off into space. And today that space just happened to be occupied by your favorite idol in the world. “Y-you hired me.” It comes out kind of like a squeak but you speak up again, voice a little shaky from the surprise he just gave you. “I’m Y/N…” His face is still blank. Zero recognition going through his brain. “The live in maid...” You continue. Shouldn’t he know who he hired to take care of his home? Or at least know your name if he didn’t know your face? This whole situation is so awkward. You were in your pajamas still for goodness sake!

You blame stupid Hoseok.

Taehyung’s stare that once made your knees weak a year ago makes your stomach settle weirdly now that it’s actually directed towards you. He’s like a photograph come to life. A beautiful, rude picture. God, why did he have to open up his mouth and ruin it?

“I didn’t hire you.” Taehyung spits. “My manager did.”  He leisurely walks around the room picking up random things and analyzing them. It’s odd. He looks as though he’s never seen this place before. He looks... out of place.

“Just like he does everything without my permission,” he mumbles, almost as an afterthought. Looking over to you, a slight smirk creeps over his once unreadable expression. “And where did he find you? Craigslist?”

Your jaw literally drops. How dare he ask you a question like that? You would think he’d be a little bit more considerate since you’re pretty much strangers. Obviously he doesn’t know his basic manners or how to be a decent person for that matter.

If there’s one thing you hate, it’s blatant rudeness. It’s like a light switch. 0 to 100. Your blood begins to boil.

It’s official, you’re pissed.

Well this is definitely not what you always imagined meeting him would be like. More like you imagined you’d run into him on the side of the street, him knocking you over. And he’d catch you before falling to the ground, look into your eyes and- well.. that fantasy popped like a pink bubblegum bubble stretched too far. The initial shock and excitement of coming face to face with your favorite idol had subsided and now you were just angry at his disrespect and quite frankly, kind of offended for Hoseok’s sake too.

He’s back on the other side of the kitchen, analyzing a red and olive colored ceramic rooster and for a moment, you think you see a look of relief and soft eyes before he picks up a similar ceramic frog next to it and cringes at it’s ugly yellow/green color. There he is, looking so nonchalant, not even caring how blunt he is being in the moment. Not even caring how his words might hurt you.

Standing up straighter you find your voice again. You don’t care who he is. You weren’t going to take this disrespect from him. “Your house would have looked like the Haunted Mansion by now if it wasn’t for me cleaning this massive place while you were out for months wasting money and partying it up in a different country every day.”

His gaze quickly snaps back to you, surprise reflecting in his face from your more than un-lady like tone of voice. What? So he can talk to you like you’re nothing but you can’t do the same back to him?

“And Hoseok’s a good man,” you continue.  “He works his ass off to make sure you’re happy every day which I’m sure can’t be an easy job.”

It’s true. Hoseok can’t really talk about his clients but he does tell you about how exhausted they make him. Hoseok never really lets it get to him though and you know he bounces back quickly, but still. No one disrespects your family like that.

“So who are you to blame him for hiring a damn housekeeper for you while you’re away?” you sputter out quickly. Woah Y/N. Where did all of this aggression come from? He had only really said 3 or 4 things to you. Granted, every one of those things was something insulting. Your confidence began to falter again. His hard gaze on you was making you self conscious. Tearing your eyes away from his for the first time, you look down and toy with the hem of your Mickey Mouse pajama shirt.

Wait, no. Look up again Y/N, you can’t give him the feeling he’s winning here.

“And who are you to make me feel like I’m the one intruding here?” You add, trying to fake more confidence. Voice raising to a yell. “You know nothing about me or this house. You look like you’ve never even seen this place before!”

Your own words hit your ears with a boom as they bounce off of the marble walls. Shit.. that was probably too far. Ugh. Why can’t you ever keep your mouth shut? You were so going to be fired after this. Goodbye to the freedom of the city, hello Mom and Dad’s house. Again.

Using both of his hands to push himself off of the edge of the countertop he’s leaning on, he scoffs. Expression once again unreadable. A closed book with no title.

“Of course I know you,” He speaks, eyes narrowing.

Slowly, he makes his way over to the refrigerator where you stand. You don’t know how, but he’s clearly taken back the control in this conversation.

Suddenly you feel small again. Obviously he isn’t used to being questioned and you just had to go ahead and run your mouth. 

“You’re just another fangirl desperately pulling any strings she can to get close to me.” He explains laughing slightly, but devoid of any real humor. It’s at this point you realize how tall and broad he is. Towering over you in the physical sense and also in the metaphorical sense. Closer and closer he walks. Suffocating you like a snake coiling around its prey.

His lips curl into a condescending smirk as he places his hand flat against the freezer door effectively trapping you in. “What? Do you actually believe in your insane, obsessed mind that you would have a chance with me if you got close to me?” His eyes scan your face, assessing just how much his words are affecting you. There’s hatred in his voice. Though for you or for himself, you’re not quite sure.

His face is so close. You could feel his breath on your cheek. Surprisingly very minty with a hint of jasmine, you think. And his cologne… Not too overwhelming but definitely distinct enough where you were certain you’d be able to pick it out anywhere from now on. It melted through the air, wrapping around you slowly until it was all that you could focus on.

Woah... it was really messing with your brain.

His other hand reaches out to move a strand of your hair that had fallen out of your bun while dancing just a few moments ago. Effectively ripping you out of your former lifestyle being the pseudo owner of this huge mansion and thrusting you into your reality of being a full time maid.

Because really, that was all you were.

Sure, you had your fun living in this house by yourself with all the freedom in the world at your fingertips. But did you expect it to last forever?

You don’t want it to, but your heart chooses this moment to start beating like it’s about to pop out of your chest. The look he’s giving you right now.. you know it well. And you’re sure it’s the one he uses to get any girl he wants, whenever he wants.

The only thing connecting the two of you physically is his fingers threaded around the strand of your hair. You might as well have been fully pressed against each other with the amount of heat you feel creeping up inside of you. And though you don’t really want to admit it, you have to physically restrain yourself from pushing yourself into him by gripping firmly onto the refrigerator door handle behind you.

“Well, you are quite pretty,” You didn’t know it was possible but his voice drops to an even lower octave. Vibrating through your chest as he speaks. 

He’s considering his next words carefully. Gaze following the lines of your face. Eyes meeting eyes, moving across the map of your face to your nose, your reddened cheeks, then finally landing on your lips.

“Maybe if you don’t turn out to be a complete psycho I might actually fuck you.” His eyes dark, smirk still plastered on his face. “You know, to get you out of my way and save us both some time.”  

What you thought was your heart about to burst out of your chest turned out to be a fit of laughter causing Taehyung to recoil quickly, pulling his hands from the side of your head and away from your hair out of surprise. His face contorting into something of a mix between confusion and disgust as you cackled in his face. You almost couldn’t get your next sentence out as you doubled over laughing.

“See...” More laughing. Any feelings of lust caused by his entrancing scent now replaced with amusement in an instant. “That’s where you’re wrong,” Even more laughing. Wow, it’s been a while since you laughed this much.

“I could give less of a fuck about who you are.” You say mocking his vulgar word choice. A few more giggles leaving your lips. Okay, it was a lie. You’ll admit that. The you of last year would have been freaking out about who was in front of the present day you right now. But the situation you were in is just so ironic! You had dreamed about meeting Taehyung for a couple of years now and now that it has actually happened, it’s so completely the opposite of what you had always played out in your head that it was almost… well, yeah actually it was just hilarious.

Who would've thought the world’s sweetheart would be such a complete and total douchebag?  

“Hoseok didn’t even tell me who owned this place.” You tried to catch your breath as the giggles finally subsided.  “I just needed easy money and a place to sleep. Hell, I don’t even know what you do for a living!” Okay, that’s another lie but honestly, who really cares at this point. Clearly the respect and love for him you had before was just of the image he portrayed to the media. 

That was not the man standing in front of you right now. And it made you more than a little angry. What’s a little white lie at this point when he’s been lying to the whole world for who knows how long?

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” You push yourself away from in front of the refrigerator putting the mop in the small cleaning supply closet a few steps away. Taehyung hasn’t moved an inch. Now it’s his turn to be speechless. “I have a job to continue doing seeing as I’m the main person making sure your house doesn’t end up looking like an abandoned dump with all the dust the piling up from no one EVER USING ANYTHING HERE,” You practically scream the last part in his direction, words reverberating off the walls once again as you turn swiftly on your heel to head rather quickly to your room on the West side of the mansion.

You had a phone call to make.

<-- Previous Chapter | Next Chapter -->

[that-buckley-gal]

Powerless - (Final) Chapter Eighteen

December 14, 1945

It’s now been seven months since Bucky died and five since Steve disappeared and believed to be dead. After leaving Italy, I didn’t know where I could go, if I could go anywhere.

When I finally arrived in the states, I was directed to and eventually locked up on Ellis Island for about two days trying to prove I was a natural-born American who’s been on vacation in Europe for the past two years. I had American citizenship. The only way I got through was by quietly telling the person who was handling my case was by showing her my marriage license, my birth certificate, and confirming the truth that my brother was Captain America, rest his soul. Only then was I allowed to place a call to the number Howard gave me along with the address. Slightly concerned about the time, 5:43 AM, I thought I should try again later in order to not disturb whoever it was I calling. “Hello, this is Jarvis,” a smooth voice rang out from the other end just before I was going to hang up the phone. “Oh, um. Hello,” I said nervously. “I hope I’m not bothering you, sir. But Howard, uh, Stark gave me this number – ” “Madison Barnes, I assume?” Jarvis asked, more alert this time. “Um, yes,” I weakly confirm. “Are you in danger or in need of any assistance?” He asked, and I knew the poor man was fully awake now. “Um, I just need some help getting out of this place, I guess. I had to go through immigration,” I say. “Give me forty minutes, and I’ll be there.” “Thank you, sir.” I waited forty minutes, and then a man in a suit came and got me out of there. Only once we were safely strapped in in a car and driving away did he properly introduce himself as Edwin Jarvis, Howard’s household butler who was, up until now, on indefinite vacation from his post. He expressed gratitude for calling him right away instead of letting him sit around a while longer. We drove around the city for a while, and got breakfast at an automat where a spunky girl served us; she was slightly proud in admitting she’d just started working there and was aspiring to be on Broadway. She was adamant that we leave with the belief that we would see Angie Martinelli on Broadway in the near future. Shortly after that, Jarvis drove me to Howard’s mansion where I would be staying until he returned, and said I could call him any time if I needed anything else. Later, in the beginning of May, World War II officially came to an end with the Nazis surrendering to the Allied Forces. It didn’t bring me any consolation other than slight relief that my baby wouldn’t have to grow up in a world at war. Shortly after that, Howard came back to New York as well and said that, if I wanted to, I could continue to live at the mansion while he went looking for Steve. I accepted the offer and he took his leave again. He would pop back in every now and again with news of his findings – apparently he came across the Tesseract in his search for Steve, and he brought it to his own lab for further research. His sporadic visits, and my rarely leaving the house, lead the press into printing news that I was his wife and that he was the father of my child. Speaking of the baby, Stefan James Barnes was born on June 20, 1945 at 7:43 in the morning. Labor was a pain, and my only support was Jarvis, not that I minded so much; apparently Howard was on his way home to come see that everything was okay, even though it was. Stefan was 6 pounds, 8 ounces and measured in at 20 inches. He didn’t cry too much after he was out, and despite my deep desire to hold him, I didn’t. He was my baby, yes, but he was out. Seeing him there, knowing he would never be cared for or taught right from wrong by Bucky or Steve, or even fully understand who they were as people depressed me and I couldn’t bring myself to hold him. A few hours passed before I managed to convince myself that it would be all right to hold him. I picked him up and held him for hours until he finally woke up from his nap. When I saw the color of his eyes, I knew I would never let him go and would sooner die rather than let anyone try to hurt him. Stefan had Bucky’s eyes. So, my life moved along as my baby grew everyday. Occasionally the thought to try to call Peggy or let her know I was at least okay and alive crossed my mind, but something told me she already knew. On the first day of August, I received an envelope that confirmed it. There was no return address. When I did open it hours later, I found it was nothing but a congratulatory note from Peggy on my birth. I figured she must’ve talked to Howard because she wouldn’t know Stefan’s name otherwise. I also recovered the vial of the super-soldier serum from my old apartment back. My old acquaintance, Dottie, was now living in my and Steve’s old apartment. I met her husband, Jack Thompson, who was also her first boyfriend who she met up with when Steve left her at the World Expo. He was a little weary of my being Captain America’s sister, but otherwise welcomed me into my former home. Since Dottie was so empathetic, I decided to express a desire to say goodbye to my home. She convinced Jack to take a quick walk with her to give me time to be alone. As soon as they were gone I went to my old room and pried up the floorboards that hid the serum, grabbed the bottle and returned to the living room just as the couple returned. I wished them a happy life together, and Dottie and I parted ways on a happy note. When I got back home, I sent Jarvis off to his own home for the rest of the day. Partly because he needed a break every once in a while, and partly because I wanted to break into Howard’s lab to grab something smaller than what I had now to present the serum to Howard.

Howard returned, leaving his team to continue his search for Steve. He and I spent the day, as usual, in the lab. Me doing paperwork, and him doing what it was he did. I’d just returned from feeding Stefan when I decide now was a good time as any to give Howard the serum. Taking a deep breath, I stop writing down information and look up at Howard. He was observing the Tesseract again. I call his attention to me and grab the vial from my desk drawer and hold it up. “I have this vial of Erskine’s serum,” I stated. Howard’s eyes popped open and his jaw slacked. He barely managed to stammer out, “How did you get it?” “Uh… Don’t be too mad, but he gave it to me just before Steve’s transformation. He, uh, he trusted me to keep it a secret ‘until the time was right’ and it just feels like now is the right time.” Howard gently swipes the serum from me and eyes the vial hungrily before looking at me. “Do you have any more?” He asked hopefully. I bite my lip and shake my head. “No. This is all that Erskine trusted me with. Nobody besides him knew I had it.” “Oh, wow. This is really amazing,” Howard gushed. “Thank you for trusting me with it.” “Well, it’s not going to do any good just sitting there,” I say with a shrug. “I’ll have to use this sparingly if I’m ever going to figure it out. And also find a way to get my hands on Erskine’s original research.” I could hear Stefan beginning to cry, and left Howard to his own devices as he continued to mutter things about what he needed and plans on how he could possibly get what he needed. Stefan was such a good baby. He’d usually stop crying as soon as I entered the room. The almost-six-month-old gurgled and reached out his hands. Knowing he wanted to be held, I just smiled at him and picked him up. He was my little boy and I was going to spoil him, especially since the only other two people in my life currently weren’t going to try to stop me as they spoiled him too. “HEY – MADI? Can you come here for a sec?” Howard called. “Ooh, what’s uncle Howie gonna need now?” I ask Stefan, who only giggles. “Can you said ‘Howie’?” “Ooh,” the baby cooed. “Oww-ee.” “What’s up?” I ask once we enter the room. Howard had set the serum on his table, and appeared to be moving papers while trying to clean up a spilled cup of coffee. Concerned for my scatter-brained boss, I step further into the lab. “If you could just move your shield to your workstation and out of my way, it’d be appreciated,” Howard said. Looking by his feet, I could see my shield was on the ground, feet away from Howard. Shaking my head at him, I walk over and grab it. “What are you even doing?” I ask once I step towards my station, still having Stefan secured in one arm, and the shield in the other as I look for a place to set it that wasn’t ‘in the way’. “Trying to figure out how I can balance the serum and the Tesseract,” Howard said nonchalantly. “And I’ve come to a decision that I need to pick one.” “All by your self?” I ask. “Ha, ha,” Howard said drily. I snigger to myself before kicking a box away, not knowing where it would go. Only when I heard a crash did I look up to see that the box had crashed into a shelf, which was already on the verge of collapsing, and made the whole thing fall apart. Everything that was strategically stacked on it went crashing to the floor. One of the larger, more pointless, things (a large ball of some sort that I still didn’t know what Howard used it for) went rolling in the direction of the triangular table that stood behind Howard, and took out one of its legs. The table now balanced on two legs, and cringing, I watch as it fell, dropping more papers and the case the Tesseract was in. The glass case broke, letting the Tesseract free bounce away. When everything finally stilled, I looked at Howard apologetically while Stefan started giggling at the mess. “I am so sorry.” Instead of being angry, like I would understand him to be, he just gave a weak shrug and a tight chuckle. “Don’t worry about it, kid. I probably needed new furniture in here anyway.” “But still. I should’ve just – ” The Tesseract, that was seemingly unaffected, suddenly let off a large emission of power that was headed straight for me. Instead of jumping out of the way, I curl up around Sebastian who started to cry, and cover us with the shield. “MADI!” The shield turned blue, and I could feel the Tesseract’s power engulf Stefan and myself. I couldn’t stop it, but whatever happened, if we survived this, I knew I would do whatever it took to keep Stefan safe. A loud ‘CRACK’ sounded and I heard myself screaming, from both fear and frustration because, for the first time in my life, I felt completely powerless.

[lfthinkerwrites]

The Curse of King Tut, pt. 7

Title: The Curse of King Tut!

Rating: T 

Warnings: Canon typical violence and hostage situation in this chapter.

Summary: Dr. Penelope Young has a fateful meeting with Victor Goodman.

Previous Chapters: 1/2/3/4/5/6

AO3 Link

Edward slammed Gordon's office door behind him as he left, his previous good mood soured by the interrogation he'd received at the hands of Gordon. Bullock's snide commentary didn't help matters. He stalked down the hall towards the bullpen, thinking on what Gordon and his lead detective had said to him. 'Grandstanding...self-absorbed...reckless disregard for the lives of others...' Once they had finished berating him and making sure he'd told them everything he knew about Goodman, they'd shown him the door without so much as a 'thank you' for catching Goodman for them. Some gratitude. The next time there was a murderer running amok in Gotham, Edward vowed, GCPD were on their own. 

Goodman himself was holed up in one of the interrogation rooms down the hall on the opposite side of the bull pen. There was a small crowd of uniformed officers and younger detectives about, no doubt eager to get a look at a bonafide rogue. Edward ignored them when he caught a glimpse of Dr. Young making her way down the hallway towards interrogation. He picked up his pace a bit to catch up to her. "Dr. Young!"

"I have work to do," she said coldly. "Whatever this is Nigma, make it quick."

Edward almost stopped dead in his tracks. She hadn't called him by anything other than his first name since the Barnes case back in September. She really was angry with him. He recovered though and pressed on. "On your way to interview Goodman, I take it? And to think, you were worried about me confronting him."

"I wasn't worried about you," she said, too quickly for it to be true. "I was more concerned about any collateral damage that might take place. One of us has to be."

Edward frowned. All right then, maybe a little flattery would soothe her. "You know, you do deserve some of the credit for Goodman's capture. Your insight was invaluable in my plan."

Dr. Young stopped suddenly and her hands clutched the notebook she was holding tightly. "Is that so?" she said. She turned to look at Edward then and he saw for himself just how angry she was at him. "Are you saying that because you mean it, or because you think it's what I want to hear and that will keep me around for the next time you need something?"

Edward groaned in exasperation. "For God's sake, what do you want from me? An apology? Fine: I'm sorry I was short with you yesterday. There. Are you satisfied?"

"What I want from you," she spoke in a low tone so that any police officers walking by wouldn't hear. "Is an acknowledgement that I'm an actual person! I'm not just something for you to use when it's convenient for you and to completely disregard when it isn't!"

"May I remind you Dr. Young, that you were the one who reached out to me? I didn't just show up out of the blue to con you into something like-"then Edward understood. This wasn't really about him, was it? "This isn't the Asylum," he said, in a calmer tone. "And I'm not the Joker. I don't use and discard people like he does. I would not have confided in you what I have if all I wanted to do was use you."

Dr. Young's face remained almost blank, but Edward thought he could see her hard blue eyes soften, just a bit. "I need to conduct this interview. When I'm done, if you're still here, we can talk more." She turned and continued walking down the hall. Edward sighed and checked his watch. 5:00. If he left now, he could still get an exclusive with Summer Gleason for the 6:00 news. Edward turned and walked back towards the waiting room outside of the bull pen. He could always get on Vicki Vale's slot at 8:00. As he walked into the waiting room, he just barely brushed past a dark-haired woman on her way out. Edward turned sharply and looked at her as she walked out the doors of GCPD. It felt like he'd met her somewhere before. He shrugged and entered the room, taking a seat by the door. He was so preoccupied by his thoughts that he didn't notice the cell phone lying on the floor under the seat next to him. Or that there was a timer on it.

Penelope pushed all thoughts of her conversation with Edward out of her mind as she approached Interrogation Room A. She needed to be objective when interviewing Goodman. She could see Joan just ahead, standing outside of the interrogation room door. She had followed Montoya and Goodman when he'd been brought in. Now she stood by the one-way mirror and looked on his interrogation with sadness. Joan seemed to be taking Goodman's relapse hard, Penelope noted. She'd always seen her empathy for her patients, including the rogues at Arkham, as a strength as a psychiatrist, rather than as a danger. She and Sharp had disagreed strongly on that. Penelope wondered often just how much might have been avoided at that horrid place if she and the rest of the staff had taken their cue from Joan.

"Have you spoken with him?" Penelope asked as she joined her former mentor.

"I tried," Joan answered. "He was non responsive. I barely got him to acknowledge me before Detective Montoya started her interrogation."

Penelope peered into the one-way mirror. Montoya was standing over Goodman, asking him about the robbery and murder at the museum. Goodman started straight ahead, not acknowledging the detective. Penelope took note of his face. A dark bruise had formed from where Edward had apparently struck him with a garbage can lid and he was draped in a blanket. His dark brown eyes stared straight ahead. Penelope knew he wouldn't be able to see her through the mirror, but it seemed to her as if was staring right through her. "Has he asked for a lawyer?"

Joan shook her head. "No. He hasn't answered any questions either."

"Is this consistent with his behavior ten years ago?"

"He was rather withdrawn when he was brought in, yes. It took a few sessions for him to really begin to open up to me. There was one thing about when I spoke to him earlier that stood out to me though: when I came into the room, he cringed. It was almost as if he was ashamed that I saw him."

Penelope furrowed her brow. Shame indicated a consciousness of guilt. Perhaps Goodman wouldn't be going straight to Arkham after all. Penelope tapped her knuckles on the mirror to signal Montoya. The detective walked away from Goodman and opened the door to beckon her inside. "He's all yours Doc. I need to talk to the commissioner, but I'll be right back."

"Thank you," Penelope acknowledged. She turned to Joan before she stepped in. "Do you have any advice?"

"Don't get drawn into any talk about Aten or about you-know-who. And don't pity him. He gets angry when he thinks he's being condescended to."

He wasn't the only one. "All right then. Tell the Commissioner I'll be about half an hour." Penelope then walked into the interrogation room.

Montoya shut the door behind her. For the first time, Penelope found herself face to face with Victor Goodman. The man continued to stare straight ahead. "Hello Victor," she said taking her seat across the table from him. "My name is Dr. Penelope Young. I'll just want to ask you a few questions. Is that all right?"

Penelope always liked to give her subjects at least the illusion of choice. It was to serve as a contrast to how demanding the GCPD officers could be and so far, it had worked. Goodman however, didn't respond to her. She sighed. She'd had her fill of dealing with difficult men for today. "How are you feeling?"

Goodman chuckled a bit, which almost startled her. "That's a loaded question, isn't it Dr. Young?"

Well, he'd acknowledged her. That was a start. "I was told you were injured during your capture, but that you refused medical treatment."

"Oh this?" he gestured to his face. "This is the least of what he's done to me."

He was the last person Penelope wanted to think about right now. "Let's not talk about him now. I'd like to know a bit more about you."

If Goodman was as egotistical as the past case reports and her own observations suggested he was, he wouldn't be able to resist talking himself. Goodman looked at her questioningly. "You weren't in Arkham when I was incarcerated, were you?"

"No," Penelope answered. "I didn't start my internship there until after you had been released. Dr. Leland's told me that you were a model patient."

Goodman's face softened somewhat. "She's a good woman," he said. "I'm sorry that she has to see this."

"She's here because she wants to help you Victor," Penelope said sincerely. "We all do."

Goodman's face darkened. "Now people want to help me. Where have they been for the last eight years?"

Penelope opened her notebook and jotted down a few notes. Victor clearly was bitter about the direction his life had gone, as she suspected. "You were medically cleared Victor. You've been living, by all accounts, a peaceful life."

"A peaceful life," Goodman repeated in a mocking manner. "When I left Arkham, I actually believed that I'd be able to go on with my life. Even if I couldn't get my job at the museum back, that I'd at least still be able to do what I loved." His face crumpled and for a moment, Penelope thought he might cry. "My credentials were revoked. No historical or archaeological society would acknowledge me. My family disowned me, most of my friends wouldn't even speak to me. I couldn't leave this cursed city to start over, or even to travel without the police immediately issuing a warrant for my arrest! I've spent the last eight years of my life cleaning up other people's garbage in parks! And now-" He stopped suddenly. He looked back up at her and he looked like the saddest man she'd ever seen. "Tell me Dr. Young: would you be happy to have such a 'peaceful life'?"

In all of his self-pity, Goodman seemed to have forgotten something very important. "Victor," she said carefully. "I won't deny that you were dealt a bad hand, but you still maimed and murdered people."

"So have other people in this very building," Goodman seethed. "And the Gods did not see fit to punish him. In fact, he's even been rewarded for it."

No acknowledgement of his own crimes. No guilt over what he'd done. And now it came back to Edward. Despite Joan's advice, it seemed that Penelope wouldn't be able to avoid that subject. "You're speaking of Edward Nigma?"

"Yes, The Riddler!" Goodman nearly shouted. He shook his head. "When I heard he was in a coma," he said. "I was happy for the first time since before I was put in Arkham. Then about a year ago, I saw him being interviewed on television. He was saying that he'd lost his memory, that he was a new man. I didn't believe it for a moment. I didn't think anyone else would either. Then I saw an advertisement on television. It was him, trying to sell himself as a 'private investigator.' Then I saw him on the news again, for solving a break in at Wayne Tower. Then I saw him on the news again and again and again..." Goodman grit his teeth. "How many years did he spend terrorizing this city? 15? How many people died as a result of his games? And he gets to be successful? I lost everything and he gets to be happy?"

Penelope remembered what Edward had said all those months ago in Tetch's hideout. "A life I can't remember, a police force counting down the days until I relapse, former colleagues and friends betraying me left and right and the one person I needed the most, is, is...I feel like I'm being haunted by my own ghost, so you tell me Selina, would you kill for a life like that?" Edward was many things, but she didn't think she could say he was happy. He and Goodman had more in common with each other than either man would care to admit. "I can certainly see why you would resent him," she said finally. "If you'd just decided to go to his office one day and shoot him, I don't think there'd be many people in this building who'd shed a tear. But you murdered three people who had nothing to do with what happened ten years ago just to spite him?"

"Bianchi was a made man for Carmine Falcone. Stavros a gun runner. Will Gotham mourn their loss?"

"And Henry Lucas?"

"Who?"

"The security guard at the museum?"

Goodman looked down at his hands. "That was regrettable. But I warned him not to interfere. He didn't listen."

Penelope wrote down more notes. Goodman's obsessed with revenge on Ed-on Nigma to the point of homicide. He shows no empathy and little regard for human life. She was becoming convinced though that Goodman didn't fit the definition of legal insanity.

Outside the interrogation room, Joan Leland watched the conversation between Victor and Penelope with increasing dismay. She's had such high hopes for Victor after his release from Arkham all those years ago. To see him reduced to this was disappointing.

"Dr. Leland!"

She turned to see a young uniformed officer run up to her. "What is it?"

"Nigma and Officer Cash are getting into a fight in the bullpen! You better come check it out!" The young man ran back down the hallway and Joan could begin to hear the sounds of a scuffle.

"Good Lord," she murmured. She followed the officer back towards the bullpen. Penelope Young was now totally alone with Victor Goodman.

"I've thought about killing him," Goodman continued. "Every second of every day since I saw that grotesque commercial of his I've wanted nothing more than to wring his neck. That's not good enough though. I don't just want him dead. I want to humiliate him. I want to shame him. I want to make him suffer everything I have for the past eight years."

Penelope sighed. This was getting nowhere and it was beginning to uncomfortably remind her of Edward back when he was her patient in the asylum. "Victor," she said. " Edward Nigma is not the reason your life fell apart. This obsession won't end well. You shouldn't give him that much power in your life. Look at where you are now."

Goodman smiled a bit at that. "I am," he said. "Precisely where I want to be, Dr. Young."

Penelope rose slightly at that. "What do you mean? You wanted him to catch you?"

Goodman continued to smile. "I was a bit disappointed in his showing when we met yesterday. I thought that committing his old crimes would be enough to bring out the man he used to be. The real him. It seems I needed better bait."

Before Penelope could fully digest what Goodman said, she heard loud voices coming from outside the room. One of them was painfully familiar to her. "Get her away from him right now! She's in danger!"

For one brief, terrible moment, Penelope took her eyes off of Goodman. One moment was all he needed.

Five Minutes Earlier

Edward checked his watch again for the fifth time that minute. 5:30. He leaned back in the stiff plastic chair in a huff. Just how long was this interview going to take? Was probing Goodman's mind that appealing for her? His cell phone buzzed again. He pulled it out of his pocket to find a congratulatory note from Oswald, a request for an exclusive by Vicki Vale and two missed calls from Ellen. Edward put his phone back in his pocket and sighed. Fifteen more minutes, he vowed. Then he was out of here. He wished he brought a book.

"Hey! Nigma!"

Edward looked up and saw a young police officer standing in front of him. He had to be fresh out of the academy with how skittish he was acting around the former rogue. "May I help you?" he asked.

"Y-yeah." The officer pulled a scrap of paper out of his pocket. "One of the ladies at dispatch said someone called with a message for you."

Edward raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" His friends, associates and clients had his cell phone number. Who would be calling the police station looking for him? "Did they happen to say who they were?"

"Nah," the cop said. "Just that they think it was a woman. She said-" he squinted a bit at the message. "she said to ask you 'Who is most important to nobody?' and then she hung up."

Edward cocked his head. Was that an attempt at a riddle? He held his hand out. "Let me see that." The cop handed the paper over to him and Edward took a look for himself. 'Who is most important to Nobody?' Edward would usually never indulge the cranks who tried to stump him with their amateur riddles, but he had nothing better to do. "Hmm..Well," he mused more to himself than to the cop. "It's a who, not a what. Now nobody...nobody...Wait, why is it capitalized?" he snapped his fingers. "I've got it! It's a reference to The Odyssey! 'Nobody' was the name Odysseus gave to Polyphemus, just before he blinded him. So then, who was most important to Odysseus? His wife, Pene-" Edward stopped as realization dawned. No. No. No!

Edward practically shoved the hapless young cop out of his way as he jumped out of his chair and sprinted into the bull pen. Selina said it was too easy. It was too easy. He wanted to be brought here. He wanted to get to her-Edward collided with a solid mass and almost fell back. "Get out of my way you moron!" he snapped.

Aaron Cash looked less than impressed. "Where do you think you're going Nigma?"

Edward tried to go around Cash, but the man wouldn't budge. "I have to get to interrogation, he's with her-"

Cash pushed Edward back. A small crowd of officers were beginning to form, watching the scene with interest. "You're not going anywhere near interrogation. You've already been such a huge pain in the ass-"

Edward grit his teeth. He didn't have time for this. He had to get to Goodman. He had to get to her. "Get out of my way Cash or so help me God I'll-"

Cash leaned down, glaring at Edward. "You'll what, Riddle boy?"

Edward deeply regretted not having a cane on him. He could improvise though. He backed up a bit then charged, shoving Cash as hard as he could. The way towards interrogation was clear, but he didn't make it more than three steps before Cash grabbed him around his waist, pulling him back. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't bust you for assaulting a police officer!"

Edward struggled to get out of Cash's grip to no avail. "Let me go! Goodman played us! He's after Dr. Young! Get her away from him right now! She's in danger!"

Cash's grip loosened, but not enough for Edward to break free. "What the Hell are you talking about?"

"What's going on here?" Edward looked and saw Dr. Leland emerging from the hallway where the interrogation rooms were located. She'd be the only person willing to listen to him.

"Nigma's acting freaky Doc. I've got it under control. He thinks Goodman's going try something against Doc Young. Montoya's still in interrogation though."

Dr. Leland's eyes widened in horror. "No, she's not. She went to speak with Commissioner Gordon. Oh my God!" she turned back down the hallway. "She's alone with him!"

That was the final straw. Edward stomped down on Cash's foot with all his might. Cash let out a curse and finally let go. Edward broke free and sprinted out of the bullpen as fast as he could, ignoring the shouts of the other officers and of Dr. Leland. Stupid worthless idiots, how could they leave her alone with him, the man was a mass murderer, did he have to do everything around here-

"Riddler!"

Edward stopped dead in his tracks, the color draining from his face. He was too late. Before him stood Victor Goodman and Dr. Young. He had her pulled against him, his elbow wrapped around her throat. She stood frozen, looking more terrified then Edward ever recalled seeing her. Goodman smiled smugly at him. "I see you received my message."

Behind him, Edward could vaguely hear the sounds of the officers springing into action."Don't move-somebody get the commissioner-freeze-" He heard the distinctive clicks of firearms. He paid little attention to it though. Right now, all that existed for him was the man standing before him and the woman he was manhandling-his partner. Edward took a slow step towards Goodman. "You son of a bitch, I'll kill you if-"

Goodman took a step back, his grip around Dr. Young tightening. "Don't take another step!" Edward froze. "Put your hands up, slowly. None of your tricks."

Dr. Young seemed to come to life then. "Edward! Don't!"

Edward did as Goodman commanded, slowly raising his hands until they were above his head. "There. Satisfied?"

Goodman let out a low laugh. "Not yet. But very soon, I will be. I told you yesterday Riddler. I want to see you completely humiliated. I want all of Gotham to know just what a washed up phony you really are." Goodman glanced down at Dr. Young and Edward's blood boiled. "The smartest man in Gotham and you couldn't protect her from me."

Edward estimated he was about five feet away from Goodman. All he needed was a distraction. For now, he'd have to indulge the mad man. "I have to hand it to you Victor. That really was well played. Even I didn't see that coming. You really can give me a run for my money." Goodman's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Edward wet his lip. "Just between you and me," he said. "Your cunning is wasted on someone like her." Forgive me Dr. Young. "She's just a washed up Arkham doctor who couldn't hack it working with the likes of us." Dr. Young's eyes flashed for a moment, then widened a bit as she realized what he was doing. "She's nothing. I'm the big game Victor. Take me."

Goodman hesitated. Then he laughed. "She's nothing to me," he conceded. "But she is something to you, isn't she? Would you be so willing to hand yourself over if it were Montoya or Dr. Leland? Perhaps now, you'll be more willing to give it your all."

Edward heard Dr. Leland's voice behind him. "Victor please, we can help you. Let her go!"

"Stay out of this Dr. Leland," Goodman growled. "This is between me and him."

"I couldn't agree more," Edward added. "It is between you and me Victor. She wasn't even a doctor ten years ago. I'm the one you really want to kill."

Goodman said nothing. "This is Commissioner Gordon," Edward heard. "Goodman, we're willing to talk. Let Dr. Young go and I promise we can try to work with you."

Goodman looked Edward dead on and he'd never seen anyone look at him with such hatred. "I do want to kill you," he said. "But not before I make you suffer. I think we'll be leaving now."

"You're surrounded by GCPD's finest," Cash said somewhere in the bull pen. "You're not going anywhere with her." For once, Edward hoped Cash was right.

Almost as soon as Cash finished speaking, an explosion rocked GCPD. The sound and the force of the blast sent Edward to the ground. The world suddenly began to move in slow motion. Edward slowly looked up and looked behind him. The waiting room he'd been in just minutes ago was ablaze. Glass covered the floor of the bullpen and Edward could see bodies. Two officers closest to the waiting room lay still, blood pooling underneath them. Others were staggering to their feet, helping the wounded. By the wall between the waiting room and the bull pen, Edward saw Commissioner Gordon laying face down. What just happened? What just happened? Edward remembered with a flash. The woman. He'd seen a woman on her way out of the waiting room. A woman had left the message about Dr. Young. Goodman did have a partner. They'd planned this. Goodman-Penelope!

The world went back to full speed as Edward pulled himself up. Goodman was gone and he'd taken Penelope with him. Edward thought he heard the voices of Dr. Leland and Cash calling out to him, but he ignored them as he took off down the hall. He remembered there was an emergency exit halfway down the hallway between the bull pen and the interrogation rooms. That's where he'd gone. It took him only a moment to rip open the emergency exit door that led to the parking lot. It would take about a minute for Goodman to get into the parking lot, Edward calculated. Longer since he was dragging along a hostage. Edward had plenty of time to catch up to him. He was out in the parking lot now, in the cold Gotham night. In the darkness, he couldn't see anyone. Where was he? Where was she?

Then he heard the distinctive sounds of tires squealing. Edward watched as a car pulled out of the GCPD parking lot at top speed and his heart sank. Of course, Goodman's partner was waiting for him. Of course she had a car.

They were gone. Goodman was gone and he had Penelope.

[letscuttothefeeling]

season three episode five

How much allegiance does your hairdresser owe you? Most people form a pretty tight bond with the person cutting their hair. Not only do you entrust your hairdresser with your appearance and whatever gossip you share while getting your head massaged – you also trust them not to murder you even though they could easily slit your throat with scissors!! I know you’re pondering that ethical dilemma, but dropetté because it’s time to cut to the feeling!

 Okay, we’re starting off with Amanda and Chloe at the beach, discussing Cara’s freakoutté in the last episode, which is great because I want to rewind and delve further into it. The more I watch it, the less it makes sense. Why would the producers intervene? They barely stepped in when Juliette started hitting Chloe and Amanda – why whisk Cara away just for yelling that no one graduated high school for the fortieth time? Well, I hope you’re a fan of conspiracy theories because have I got one for you. I believe that the producers instructed Alex to push a fabricated storyline involving Cara cheating on G Baby. I’m guessing that they figured Cara would either go along with it, or that she’d get angry, (because that’s her job…) but what they didn’t predict was that Cara had reached her breaking point. Instead of screaming at Alex, (which is what they tried to play this off as,) I think she was screaming at the producers about the utter fakeness of the show. She was tired of constantly being painted as the villain. Which is why they ultimately removed her from the boat. It would also explain the choppy editing and the fact that she dropped out of the show. Thoughts? Opinions? I don’t care, I’m right. Let’s move on.

Finally, the moment I’ve been waiting for – ALYSSA’S SIESTA KEY DEBUT! Who is Alyssa, you ask? LET ME EXPLAIN. Alyssa is Alex’s long-time family friend and current baby mama! She is also Juliette’s former friend from FSU and – you guessed it – HAIRDRESSER. Hairdresser! Has she no decency!? If you’re a friend, feel free to date my ex, but if you’re my hairdresser?! Dream on, bitch! I swear to God, the day Savannah (my hairdresser) starts dating my ex?! Utter chaos! Sadly, Juliette was warned that her hairdresser was a sneaky brownnoser with a hidden agenda. In last season, we witnessed a Chloe and Juliette blowuppé caused by Juliette’s pesky hairdresser! Her OWN HAIRDRESSER told Chloe she was talking shit. While that would be more than enough for me to say goodbye, Juliette kind of has this pattern of ignoring people’s many glaring red flags, idk if you’ve noticed it though, it’s something not many people know about her.

 Anyways, this is a betrayal worse than JC and Brutus, worse than JC and Judas, and dare I say – even worse than that time in Stephanie Meyer’s third American novel in the Twilight Series – Eclipse, when Bella, desperate to stop Jacob from fighting in werewolf form against the savage newborn vampire army Victoria and her new lover Riley had created, kisses Jacob in what she claims is an attempt to get him to stay with her in the safety of the tent, but what we know is an act of love and a direct betrayal of Vampire Edward. It hurts to even think about it. And right after they got engaged? Bella, you can be so heartless. But is this funny because we find out later that even though Alex may find Alyssa to be hotter than Juliette, he literally doesn’t like her. Ouch!

Wait – he doesn’t like her? I thought she was with child – his child! Well, you’re right, she is carrying a small Shrek Alex inside of her uterus, but I guess having someone’s child doesn’t actually force them to like you. Who knew? Would have saved me a lot of grief to have that intel, let me tell you. LOL!! Anyways, we know he doesn’t like Alyssa because he told Juliette to her face that he doesn’t like Alyssa. After Juliette and Boring Robby: The Liar have yet another unsuccessful (and boring) conversation about Alex, Juliette ignores his wishes and goes to see Alex for the first time since the breakuppé anyways. But before we discuss their conversation, I need to get something off my chest. I get a distinctly strange Fatherly vibe from Boring Robby when he and Juliette talk, and it’s so unsettling. Maybe it’s the never-ending rip off of Confucius quotes that spill out of his mouth hole uncontrollably? Seriously, Boring Robby’s only talent (besides stealing) is word vomiting random phrases that don’t pertain to the topic of conversation whatsoever. I mean, “That’s like sitting in the driver’s seat, moving forward, while watching the rearview mirror.” Intern, get this philosopher a quill, some ink, and a Pulitzer Prize…STAT!

Juliette and Alex’s talk goes just about as well as it could possibly go. (It goes horribly.) Luckily, we got some genuine dynamite quotes from the exchange. I was geeking watching this because Juliette has this wonderful habit of exercising exactly zero willpower when it comes to Alex, so we truly get a look inside her brain during this convo. Like she literally can’t control what she says. Maybe that’s why she’s dating Boring Robby. He can’t stop quoting Seventeen Magazine, and Juliette can’t stop herself from screaming “You haven’t found a girl that’s hotter than me” at her ex. It’s one and the same. When Alex and Juliette sit down to talk, it gets heated pretty quickly. Alex admits that he’s not over Juliette, and even though he has “found a girl (or ten) hotter than [Juliette]”, he “hasn’t found a girl [he] likes more than [Juliette].” Juliette brings up Alex’s threating texts to Boring Robby, there are tears from both parties, and Juliette drives off. It’s like, I get why you wanted to, but really Juliette – how did you think this would go?

Okay so let’s take a break from all of this Jalex drama. As much as I love it – wow it’s exhausting! Cut to: BG and Amanda getting steamy in the hot tub! Unfortunately for Brandon, the only thing he’s getting is a steaming pile of rejection. When BG asks Amanda to be official, presumably because he’s worried about her ex, she tells him she doesn’t want to put a label on it. Cringe! Meanwhile, Kelsey and her new friend Jake seem to be getting close, and no – I didn’t mean to type “Jared.” That’s right, Kelsey is up to her usual antics and starting to date multiple guys at once again, finally! As Jake, who is also Robby’s best friend, tearfully confides in Kelsey about his sick father, Kelsey reassuringly responds, “Clearly you have a good shoulder on your head. Your Dad has raised you right.” Normally I would crucify her for this blunder, but she’s been so great this season that I’ll let it slide. Kind of.

 This is me not letting it slide.

Time for Amanda’s party! The first fun thing that happens is that Chloe and Juliette finally makeup, thank GOD because I like both of them infinitely more when they’re friends. The second fun thing is that even though noble Juliette leaves Boring Robby at home out of respect for Alex, Alex walks in holding her – gasp – HAIRDRESSER’S hand. Mike drop, Alex! Jake, Kelsey’s new love interest and Robby’s BFF, makes a sly comment about Alex which TOTALLY comes back to bite him in the ass when none other than shit-stirrer Chloe decides to blow up his spot – but we’ll get to that later. For now, Juliette’s just trying to keep her cool. Respect!

Juliette has been keeping it under control until Amanda confronts her about the lost phone. As we know, Amanda suspects Robby of stealing her phone. And based on Juliette’s face, he is guilty as charged. Juliette breaks down and tells Amanda that Boring Robby threw her phone in the ocean. Surprisingly, Amanda is really nice to Juliette about it, so major props! I think Amanda knows Juliette didn’t have anything to do with the phone and is probably very overwhelmed since she’s being filmed while her ex-boyfriend and ex-hairdresser are making out in front of her face while she’s trying to repair relationships with her best friends. So good for Amanda. Now that Juliette has her friends back, she’s ready for anything. Well, almost anything.

The party’s going too well, so Chloe decides to stir the pot and tell Alex that Jake called him a “sociopath” as Jake is sitting right next to him. Alex immediately dares him to define the word sociopath. This is particularly hilarious because just last week, Alex asked Cara to define the word slander. Why is his go-to insult asking people if they know the Merriam Webster definition of various words? Like next thing you know, you’re going to be asking me how to spell it and use it in a sentence. This isn’t Scripps. Anyways, before Jake can even try to define it, Alex steps in and defines sociopath as “Someone that obsesses over multiple things, that is um…very uh…self-centered, I guess you could say.” SO close, buddy! But no cigar. He truly puts the dick in dictionary, am I right?! His new girlfriend also channels his dick vibe and waltzes up to Juliette to “talk.” I love when people decide to “talk” to Juliette when she’s wasted and vulnerable. Leave Juliette alone! Luckily, Alyssa ends up looking like a complete idiot. She’s condescending, rude, and acts like Juliette has no reason to be thrown off. Even when Alex comes up, Juliette stands her ground and remains fairly level-headed. Alyssa walks away to let the two hash it out, but then proceeds to scream from across the room for Alex to come stand next to her, and admits defeat by confiding in her friends that “he still loves Juliette.” Stay in your lane, sweetie. You’re just a rebound. (Until you get knocked up…but we don’t know that yet.) See you next week.  

[innocentbeing]

unpopular opinion abt Lizzie

TL;DR: Ciel didn’t cause Lizzie to accept her strength, she already accepted it in that flashback scene with Frances. Her issue was wanting him to always think that she’s cute and her fear of being hated by Sirius.  

Lizzie wasn’t miserable because she had to hide her strength. She doesn’t even like fighting, she just does it cause it’s necessary. She looked unhappy having to fence even before Sirius’s infamous quote. Compare her expression from then to her big bright smile of being an unknowing angel.

(Off topic: I think the reason why everyone has such a disdain for Madam Red’s advice is due to fan translation using “weak” and “naive” while official uses “delicate” and “lovely”.

Not an ideal thing to say to a young girl in our generation, but it’s better than “weak” and “naive”. at the very least it pisses me off a lot less)

You could argue that Lizzie only dislikes it because of the social stigma of that era, and that could be true, but it doesn’t change the fact that it became a part of how she thinks and shaped her character.

She even says she would rather be cute in her flashback right after her vow that she would become a wife capable of protecting Ciel.  

She doesn’t/didn’t act cute as a way to appease Ciel/Sirius, she’s like that because that’s just her nature. Or how she was nurtured to be. I’m leaning more towards ‘nature’ since she’s shown both sides (proper lady vs knight) and still prefers the perks (cuteness/clothes/cliche girly stuff) of being a lady though it’s most likely both at play here. She also wants him to think she’s cute because she likes him. It’s normal to want to attract the person you love, no?

Lizzie never hated her strength, Sirius never caused her to hate herself. She never gave up that part of her, her mother wouldn’t allow it. When Frances told her “it’s for your sake and his” she accepted it.

This is why she was able to reveal her strength when it was needed. She didn’t need a boost of confidence or someone comforting her. She already made up her mind to protect Ciel (in her mind, Sirius) years before she revealed it. Ciel didn’t do anything to help her with that. He simply came back as a bleak former weaker shell of himself which gave her the urge to protect him. 

It doesn’t make sense, imo, to claim she had internal concerns over how strong she is when she so easily and very quickly chose to become “a wife capable of protecting Ciel” nearly immediately after he returned. I think that if she hated her own prodigious talent and struggled with accepting her strength then she should have struggled to make that choice as well since she’s pretty much embracing the part of herself she supposedly dislikes, but there’s nothing in that scene to indicate that.

The problem was “I want you to think of me as cute”. She didn’t want him to see an unattractive side of her because she likes him. It’s like what Yana said in that one post:

If someone told you to fight zombies - in underwear and with your set hair totally rumpled - in front of the person you love the most, it’d be totally devastating.

The situation would bring her to tears regardless. I mean yeah it was irrational given the dangerous circumstances they were in but add to the fact of what Madam Red told her, the fact that Lizzie genuinely enjoys being cute, and that she’s in love with Ciel/Sirius and desperately doesn’t want him to dislike her so her unwillingness was understandable?

Ofc Sirius’s “a strong wife would frighten me” comment also definitely contributed to her reluctance the most but I’m willing to bet that even without it, she would still feel grief showing that side of her to him. I’m so tired of this fandom making it seem like his comment was the entire reason for it. The most significant, yes, but not exclusive.

Besides, I don’t think Lizzie was deliberately withholding her strength the entire time they were on the boat. She didn’t carry swords around with her so she had nothing to defend with. Was she supposed to kill them barehanded like Sebastian? (geezus christ imagine) In the first place, they had no idea how to stop the things until Sebastian came and did it and the next time they ran into trouble she fought back, so yeah, I’m very sure she wasn’t like “well i’m just gonna stand here and not be helpful because Ciel might not like me”.

Conveniently there were swords hanging on the wall when her life was in danger and Ciel wasn’t able to protect her any longer and with that, she was able to protect herself and Ciel. If there weren't any swords around then, well, she probably would have gotten eaten alive right then and there. (or she would’ve run? lol) She was sad over revealing her strength due to how it looks and out of fear he would hate her, but it doesn't mean she was running around the whole time choosing not to fight back thus putting their lives at risk. That would contradict her vow of protecting him.

The part where she refused to strip to fit through the vents had nothing to do with her strength just her desire of wanting to look cute (like she explicitly says lmao. stating the obvious ik) She doesn’t want to run around in her underwear in front of him— that is what she meant by “staying cute in front of him” in that moment.

I could definitely understand why she very aggressively rejected to undress. It’s embarrassing, it’s shameful, it’s not cute at all, and she doesn’t want him to see her like that but given the situation, it’s not the time to be worried about that which is why Ciel got so angry :’D Her life was at risk after all.

The part where she’s surrounded by zombies crying “I wish I could have stayed cute in front of you till the very end, Ciel” is referring to her strength, considering she whipped out the swords right after. While Lizzie didn’t want him to see the “ugly” side of her, she has always been accepting of her strength. She wanted him to see her as cute but when he needed protecting she tossed aside that selfish desire. (I don’t think she calls it ugly out of self-hatred but because she genuinely finds it uncute. It’s just now she doesn’t care if she doesn’t look cute)

fghjm let me just reiterate, Ciel really… like… didn’t have to do anything. There was nothing he did for her when it comes to her strength. There really wasn’t anything he had to help her within that area. Sacrificing her cute side was all Lizzie’s choice, decided only by her, with the help of no one. The obstacle in her way was her personal feelings of “I want to look cute in front of you” and the only thing it took for her to reveal it was her’s and Ciel’s lives being in danger.

Actually, it could’ve been Ciel “If you die it’s all over” speech that helped Lizzie break out of her obsessive desire for being cute. Not that she isn’t still obsessed with it since it’s something she loves, but thanks to his words she’s now content with not looking cute for the sake of something more important? It had more to do with her thing with cuteness instead of strength and I don’t believe Lizzie had conflict over the latter but perhaps it did give her a boost in a sense.

She started crying because of Ciel & Seb’s reaction to her ‘I’ll carry you on my back!” The fact that she could say that so thoughtlessly and normally to him proves to me that Lizzie never hated or tried to dismiss her strength. She didn’t need Ciel to say he accepts her in order for her to accept that part herself.

can i just say that this panel is my fav Lizzie moment ever so far? it’s small and easily overlooked but it’s so cute. she just wants to help!! she’s so precious!!

Now if she cried first after everything was over and had to have Ciel comfort her then I would think that she loathed that part of herself but that’s not the case.

It went like this:

Lizzie, completely comfortable and no signs of distress from revealing her strength: I’ll carry you on my back! Ciel and Sebastian: reacts unfavorably Lizzie: oh no he must hate me

The way they were shocked and exasperated by Lizzie’s statement reminded her of her extreme fear of being hated by Sirius. She thought he wouldn’t like that she was strong so she cried because she doesn’t want him to hate her, which falls back to ‘wanting to attract the person you love’.

Lizzie’s just a young girl after all so hearing even a gentle critique from someone she likes would cause unease in her heart.

sdfghjkn I can’t explain things well, I don’t think I’m getting my point across clearly so I’m going to use an example from the popular manga Bleach.

(i know. just.. bear with me…)

There’s a scene where a character named Chad asks the main character Ichigo what he thinks of his female friend, Orihime’s, outfit. Orihime is in love with Ichigo so this question embarrassed her, and when he didn’t really give his approval she took things way out of proportion.

His actual response isn’t as mean as in her imagination (it wasn’t mean at all) but since it’s coming from someone she loves, the effect it has on her increases significantly so she unintentionally exaggerates the harshness of it.

I CRINGE AT MYSELF FOR USING THIS AS AN EXAMPLE WHEN IT’S A MANGA THAT’S SO DIFFERENT FROM KURO but this scene reminded me of Lizzie’s reaction. this is the feeling I’m trying to describe. this is what I think was the source of Lizzie’s worry when showing her strength to Ciel 

She is on her knees crying over how Ciel/Sirius must despise her now since she’s so strong and scary when he actually never said anything like that lmaoo

The reality is he was just a small boy scared by his aunt’s strength/strictness, which is a normal understandable reaction for a child his age. Let’s not forget that even Sebastian has his moments with Francis lmao.

He never intended to hurt Lizzie’s feelings and also she just exaggerated the meaning of it since she liked him and doesn’t want him to dislike her. I think such a feeling is very normal.

It’s like how Ciel explained. It was a long time ago. I think she realized that there was no need for her to worry about that anymore since it was said when he was younger and has yet to experience dramatic hardships.

At least that’s what I think. It’d be REALLY funny if Sirius, who fearlessly confronted a demon, would still be scared of Francis and by extension, Lizzie. xD

This happened in her flashback meaning it was before Lizzie unveiled her swordsmanship talent to Ciel. She attends fencing tournaments and based off of this panel we can assume that she has no problem with it by the way she cheerfully announces that she got a present for winning which supports my thought that she didn’t have a dilemma regarding herself and her strength all this time and didn’t need for Ciel to accept it to be comfortable with herself. She was already accepting of it. Her biggest concern in hiding her strength was the thought of Sirius hating her, even after all that time.

I’d also like to point out how happy she is getting that cute pair of shoes. :’) She definitely genuinely loves cute things with all her heart.

Lizzie literally asks him “You haven’t come to hate me?” which gives me another reason to think she kept her strength hidden due to a deep hope of ‘Please don’t hate me / I want you to see me as cute’ rather than an ‘accepting her strength’ issue. 

If that were the case I think asking “So it’s ok if I’m like this?” or something along those lines would better convey that she struggled with self-acceptance. I believe she never had that problem with herself, she just... reallllyy desperately wants him to like her? That’s what I’m getting from reading the manga at least lol. but that’s an unpopular opinion it seems? maybe i’m misunderstanding something..? 

(> - <)

I wonder if I’m just overlooking things and misinterpreting Lizzie’s character?

Edited On 10/5/17

[janeykath318]

Leaving Darkness Behind 5

Jenna woke up on day fourteen with fuzziness in her mouth and Chris's words "I dare you to do better" in her head. Confused, she blinked up at Bones in bewilderment. Wasn't she supposed to be dead? She remembered being told Pike was dead, rage taking over her and chasing Khan, Marcus threatening them, Carol screaming, and running into the warp core. "Don't be so melodramatic, you were barely dead," Bones rumbled beside her. He was all in white and looked very sharp, if very tired. She was confused and it plainly showed on her face, because Bones went on to explain he'd made a serum from Khan's blood that had revived her, though she'd been in a coma for two weeks. 

"They caught Khan?" She croaked hopefully. "Sure did," Bones nodded toward the doorway where Spock was standing. Her face lit up at the sight of her first officer and a long discussion ensued, during which Jenna peppered him with questions about Khan's capture and Starfleet's  current chaos. "Did I miss all the.......funerals?" She asked Spock at last, vaguely bringing up the aching reminder of Pike without actually mentioning his name. Spock looked at Bones questioningly and Bones shook his head. "Haven't told her yet. Go ahead." "Told me what?" She frowned at her friends, wondering what the heck was going on. "Jenna," Spock began evenly, (how nice that he was using her first name finally!), "Admiral Marcus deliberately gave us false information about Admiral Pike's condition.  He was wounded, but not fatally." If Jenna could have looked paler than she already was, she would have. "You're kidding," she breathed, looking to Bones for confirmation. "Vulcans do not kid," Spock said. "He's right, Jen," Bones said with a smile. "Chris is alive and as ornery as ever. He came by to see you a lot when you were still out. We figure Marcus lied to make you easy to manipulate, the bastard. You okay?" Jamie had closed her eyes and let tears leak out onto her cheeks as she processed the news that HE was still here. Marcus lying about it didn't surprise her one bit, but she didn't have the energy to get truly angry again. "Yeah. Just......really happy. Thank you for telling me." She couldn't fully explain the depth of her feelings about Chris, and didn't know if she ever could, but the overwhelming relief began to mend the jagged wound in her soul. Her eyes popped back open. "He's still here, then?" She queried. "Yes, and constantly pestering me and Phil about you. If you behave and get some rest, I'll let him in to see you in a few hours. Sound good?" "Sounds great, Bones," she sighed. "You're the best." "Bout time I got a little appreciation," he grumbled under his breath. It wasn't long before Jen was out again--this time in a peaceful, natural sleep. Chris was deeply engrossed in the first reports from Headquarters detailing the section 31 investigation when Phil came sauntering into his room, looking decidedly pleased. "Good news, Chris! Your favorite captain is  awake! Well, she's technically sleeping now, but she was alert and talking for a solid hour." He dropped his PADD and stared at Phil. "Why didn't you say something?" "She thought you were dead, Chris. Spock and McCoy wanted to break it to her carefully. She's really weak and tires pretty quickly." Chris nodded, then frowned as he realized what Phil had said. "Why did she think I was dead? Spock dragged me out of that firefight. He would have told her I had a pulse." "He didn't know if you would stay that way. Marcus took that uncertainty and used it to his own advantage, telling them both you succumbed." Chris cursed Alex's name again. He'd hurt Jenna in so many ways, it was unthinkable. Chris was almost angrier about that than the personal betrayal. His relationship with Marcus had grown decidedly cooler over the years as they'd found themselves in disagreement more and more on Starfleet's policies and goals, but he'd tried to respect the guy and hadn't yet seriously followed through on his hunch there was something off with the Head of Starfleet. He'd be regretting that for a very long time. "I know what you're thinking and don't go there," Phil reprimanded him. "If you'd showed your hand early, he would have silenced you one way or the other." "And all this rubble and loss of life is somehow preferable?" He snapped back. "And just how could you have stopped Khan from doing what he did when no one had any clue that Marcus was blackmailing genetically enhanced humans with bad tempers?" Phil's logic was sound as possible, but Chris was not very consoled. Before he could continue his arguments of self-blame, a woman's voice interrupted. "So, the rumors of your demise were greatly exaggerated?" "Commander Kirk!" He exclaimed. "Long time no see!" "Likewise, Admiral." Winona Kirk strode into the room, looking calm and composed as ever, but he could see she was exhausted. "I'm pleased to hear the reports were untrue, Chris." She shook his hand in greeting and he returned it warmly. "Thank you. I am, too, to be perfectly honest. Here to see Jenna?" "Tried, but she's asleep. I decided to come bother you in the meantime. How goes it, Surgeon General? You look like you've been through the wars." "It's been stressful," Phil admitted. "Starting to calm down somewhat, now that it's been two weeks. Glad you could make it. Number One pulled out all the stops, so to speak?" "Oh, you bet she did," Winona confirmed. "She sends her regards, and so does Caitlin," she winked at Phil, and Chris grinned, knowing the interesting history between his former Engineer and CMO. How are you getting along, Chris?" "Oh, not too bad. Jarred my back when I went down, and that's been more trouble than the actual phaser wound. Should be getting out of here soon." "Good. Sounds like they really need you back at HQ with all the mess Marcus left," Winona sighed and her face showed the strain of the last few weeks. "We've already lost too many good officers to this." "Sadly, yes," Chris agreed. "It's going to take years to recover. I can fill you in on some of the missing pieces while you're waiting, if you'd like." "That would be great, Chris," She replied. "I'm trying to avoid thinking about the fact my daughter was dead. Please distract me. Last I heard, she broke the Prime Directive and got demoted." That incident seemed like a whole other lifetime ago to Chris, but he started in on the tale willingly, not mincing words. When he finished, Winona was quiet for a minute then nodded to herself, a wry smile appearing. “She counted the cost and decided saving a planet and Spock was worth breaking the Prime Directive,” She said softly. “The lying on the report, though, didn’t help her case.” “Yeah. That was what upset me,” Chris admitted. “From What Spock reported, she had good reasons for breaking the no contact rule, but claiming the mission was uneventful just compounded the problem. It’s such a huge position to be in that young and they were just waiting for her to screw up. I was probably too harsh with her.” “Chris, Jen’s a genius, but still learning. Don’t overthink it.” “But I told her she was going to get herself and everyone under her killed,” he reminded her, cringing at how the words sounded now. “Hindsight’s twenty-twenty,” Winona replied, “we all say things we regret, or wish we’d worded differently. Your point was valid: Actions have consequences, sometimes even good actions. Jenna’s going to live to Captain another day, and I’m very thankful for that.” “So am I,” Chris agreed fervently.