#yeah....maybe I'm going to be able to articulate my thought on this more properly one day

[eastofedean]

sometimes, I think about how early seasons dean thought he wanted to be like his father just to realize that he was, in fact, just like his mother

[respectfulrebel]

I don’t have the vocabulary to articulate properly just how fucking riveted I was while reading this, so please accept these as visual representation:

"There are things that I can do to you that are worse than death," he reminded the man.

Scary Noah is hot 👀 what is wrong with me

As soon as his large form appeared in the doorway, you lunged at him. Your foot roughly pistoned into his chest to force him back and then you jumped down, kneeing right between his legs. Dante groaned in both pain and anger as he doubled over to grab his shriveled balls. This was it. Your chance to run.

The way I held my breath during that scene 😩

Noah would come after you, right? He would continue to protect you. He would pull you close and tell you everything would be okay, that he would never leave your side again.

...right?

YEEEEESSSS HE WOULD AND HE IS 😭

Dante murmured after tucking his face into the crook of your neck and deeply inhaling your scent. You grimaced as you tried to turn your head as far to the opposite direction as you possibly could.

Disgusting 😭 get your filthy hands off my girl 😡

The longer you were captured, the more you began to lose hope. Perhaps Noah wasn't coming for you after all. Maybe he figured you being taken was a blessing because it was one less headache for him to have to deal with.

Baby nooooooo 😭 he’s coming, he loves you 😭

"Nick?" You squeaked out when you finally were able to make sense of the familiar face in the doorway.

NICK?????????

"I'm going to be straight forward because I don't have time to linger." Nick sighed, as if he was upset his little game had been disturbed. "I know where she is and who's keeping her. I'll tell you everything if you help me with one simple task."

Plot twist of the fucking century. Nick saving the day was not something I saw coming 😳

"No, not her father. He has his hand in this, sure, but he's not the one calling the shots."

I FUCKING KNEW IT 😭😭😭😭😭

His top goal was to get you out safely, though. After that, he would go on the much needed rampage to prevent this from ever happening again. No longer would you have to run and hide behind a fake identity. You could live the life of freedom you rightfully deserved. Noah was going to make sure of it, even if he had to die trying.

🥺🥺🥺 No dying, please 🥺🥺🥺

Noah wanted to argue with him but he knew Jolly was serious about keeping their main operation going.

What is the main operation????? 😭😭😭 I can’t wait to find out 😭😭😭😭😭

Nicholas had skirted around telling Noah what he was even doing on the yacht to begin with. He would only smirk and change the subject, but something was telling Noah that Red had something to do with this. You couldn't have one egotistical asshole with an agenda without another there to impede.

Ahhhh all of those unanswered questions are burning a hole in my braaaainnn 😭

Killing didn't used to come naturally to him; his first time taking a life still haunted him periodically. But when he was trying to protect someone he cared about, he would take on the task without a second thought.

There is definitely something wrong with me cause I’m like 🥰🥰🥰 he protects 🥰🥰🥰👉🏻👈🏻

His heart was pounding within his chest, his eyes frantically searching for the door Nicholas had described.

Yeah, dude, same, my heart is also pounding in my chest 😭

He immediately grabbed it with one hand, the other retrieving his gun before he simultaneously layered the two on Hawk's face. Pillow first, his fist pressing down into it, then he fired the gun straight into the fluff to muffle the sound.

😳😳😳😳 why is this hot

The moment your wrists were free, you threw your arms around Noah and practically jumped into his body. His own arms circled around you, holding you as close as possible. Burying your face into the crook of his neck, you fought back your tears the best you could. You were just so damn happy to see him. It was impossible to even put it into words.

Sobbing 😭😭😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Noah was cut off by a body filling the doorway, a gun pointed in your direction. You jumped and immediately backed into Noah who grabbed your waist, your breath catching in your throat. Even Noah was tense against you, until you both settled upon realizing it was Jackson standing there.

JESUS, that fucking scared me 😩

"You think I know which way east is?"

That made me giggle cause same 🤭

You kept a brisk pace, Noah still trailing close behind. Just as you were about to glance back at him, a shot rang through the silence, followed by a sudden groan of pain.

WHAAAAT? Noooooooooo 😭😭😭😭😭😭

You glanced down to see your own shirt stained from where Noah's injured side was pressed against you. Your eyes widen with fear, a sob threatening to break free. No, no, no. You couldn't lose him. You refused to. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. Noah didn't deserve this. None of the people helping you did.

Stooooopp nooooo 😭😭😭 he’s gonna be okay, he’s gonna be fine, he has plot armour, right??????

「 ON DISPLAY 」 noah sebastian ⨯ f!reader

▷ chapter six

noah is your neighbor and your new favorite view thanks to his lack of curtains. you're pretty sure he prefers it this way. but the man you've created in your imagination is nothing like reality and you soon find yourself falling prey to a past lifestyle you had been desperately on the run from. trigger warnings : language, smut, violence, mention/flashbacks of abuse, alcohol and drug use, sexual harassment/assault (nongraphic). word count : 9k

masterlist

a/n : sorry for the super mega delay :') extra sorry for the barely there proof reading/revisions of the last half :')))

NOAH POV

“I'm only going to ask this one more time,” he breathed out with irritation, a hammer filthy with blood dangling at his side. “Where. The. Fuck. IS SHE?!” 

The man tied to the chair flinched and cried out in fear, his words gurgled and incoherent from the pool of blood constantly filling within his mouth. Noah had made sure of that happening when he pried a couple of his teeth free, yet he still received no answers despite his more grizzly methods. This guy was good, but Noah would break him eventually. They always broke. 

Unless he broke first. 

When no answer was given, he swung the hammer down-no hesitation-until it smashed the bones of the man's right hand with an astounding amount of ease. It was the third wack he had taken, his attempts to make sure the guy never even held a pencil again quite thorough. All of this gore could stop if only he gave him the answers he so desperately needed. A truth he had told the guy multiple times, though his kindness was only met with a hardened stare and silence - other than the howls of pain. 

The scent of blood - metallic and copper-like - filled the air, and Noah wasn't one of those sickos who enjoyed the smell of death. It was all part of the job, though. A small price to pay to keep things running smoothly. 

Muddled senses aside, his mind was on one thing and one thing only right then: you had been taken. How had this happened when he had been so cautious? Guards, cameras (something you were not knowledgeable of), a persistent fucking need to hear your voice every half hour or so. Where had he messed up? Maybe he had been too lacking with the guards when it came to allowing them to watch you from their cars. He should've demanded they remain by your side always no matter what sort of threats you gritted out to them. 

Something had flown under the radar. Or rather someone. And now you were gone. Noah could feel his chest tightening as he turned away from the ragged man to begin pacing before him again. His head was pounding and his heart rate had yet to cease from beating wildly within his chest. This felt like the few times he had done those powdery white lines and regretted it each time. Noah knew he was too high strung for it but had that stopped him? No. Just as knowing better about you hadn't stopped him from making a dire mistake either. 

Noah groaned as his phone vibrated within his pocket. He snatched the device and immediately brought it to his ear after connecting the call. 

“What?” He hissed, his anger and annoyance radiating in waves. 

“No hits from the tracker on her phone. The last location was her apartment, as we already knew.” 

It had been pointless to even ask for your phone to be tracked because these guys weren't amateurs. They were going to cover their bases when kidnapping someone like you. 

“Fuck!” Noah loudly erupted, the hammer he held dropping to the floor, forgotten. 

“I'm trying to check all the security cameras in the area but the roads were fucking packed. I keep losing them.” The guy explained, his voice wavering. He was obviously scared of Noah’s outburst, even from over the phone. 

“What kind of car?”

“Black SUV. Looks like an Expedition, maybe an Escalade. These city cameras are fucking shit so it’s hard to tell.” 

Noah nodded to himself as he stored that information away. “I need you to find any and all information you can on her dad. All his properties. Businesses, houses, fucking bicycles. All of it. If his name is on it, then I need it sent to me.”

Without waiting for a response, Noah ended the call and tossed his phone aside. He then took in a deep breath before turning back to the man bound to the chair. He was who had tried to stop Jackson from going into the apartment building once all hell broke loose. Jackson was good but often underestimated because he was young and looked even younger, so the man had made a mistake by thinking Jackson wouldn't be able to take him down. A big mistake judging by the bullet holes in his shoulder and thigh that were dripping blood onto the floor still. 

“Tell me something useful and all of this can end.” 

The man chuckled before spitting a mouthful of blood to the floor to join the ever growing puddle. “By way of death, yeah?” 

“Depends on what sort of information you give me.” Noah shrugged, the gun he had tucked into the back of his pants now held firm in his hand. “Tell me a location and maybe you'll walk free.” His gaze then fell to the wound on his leg and he grimaced, head tilting to the side. “Well…maybe not walk.”

“There's no point when you're already too late. She's probably back in his hands as we speak and if she doesn't agree to what he wants, she's dead.” he slurred.

“What does he want?” Noah’s brows furrowed, though he was pleased to be getting something out of the guy. 

“What do you mean?” The guy groaned as he shifted in the seat, his mangled hand attempting to move as well but the ropes were too tight and continued to bite into his flesh. “He wants her! That's all he's ever been after!” 

Noah stared at the guy for a long moment, remaining silent as he did, jaw tense. He was thinking, trying to formulate a plan to get you back once he had even an inkling of a location. As much as he wanted to just go in guns blazing, he knew that would be the stupidest idea. 

“Tell me where he's keeping her,” he again demanded. “I'm beginning to grow bored.” 

That meant he would kill the guy shortly if he didn't prove himself to be useful. Maybe he would extend his life a little longer, though it wouldn't be much of an existence when tied to a chair and bleeding out. 

“You're going to kill me either way,” the guy again spit blood out, red drops dribbling down his chin. “So I think I'd rather know you're struggling to find her once I die than help you.” 

Noah growled as he quickly rushed the last few steps to the guy. He had the gun pressed to the side of his head, the safety off but not yet cocked. “There are things that I can do to you that are worse than death,” he reminded the man. 

When the guy didn't say anything, Noah angled the gun down and fired into his uninjured thigh without a second thought. The man cried out in pain, his body tensing and writhing against his restraints in a vain attempt to free himself. It was useless. They both knew he would bleed out in minutes now. 

“Where is her father keeping her?!” Noah grabbed the man by the back of his hair and jerked his head back at a sharp angle. The gun was pressed under his chin, promising a hasty execution. 

The guy laughed between his sharp gasps of pain. “They said you guys were in the dark over here but I didn't think it was true. Not with the reputation Karlsson and King has,” He took in a sharp breath before continuing. “You're really a let down when compared to how they talk of you.” 

Something inside Noah snapped. He forcefully pushed the man back after shoving into his chest so he hit the ground with a thud, and then before another word could be said, he fired a single shot into the guy’s head. 

READER POV

The air was damp and stale as you took in a deep breath. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Anything to halt the nausea creeping up. That, plus the slight rocking that was contributing to your sickness, instantly told you that you were on a boat. You had always been the type to get sea sickness since you were a child, so much that it had angered your father during vacations. 

You weren't sure how much time had passed since you woke up the first time. That was when your panic had been in full force. You had yelled and screamed, tried to pry the handcuff off your wrist so many times that lacerations now bleed around the tender skin of your hand. All of your attempts had gone unnoticed, or whoever was lingering around didn't care enough to come check on you. 

Slowly your eyes fluttered open again as the sickness worked its way higher in your esophagus. Fuck, you were going to throw up. But then you'd be stuck with the stench of it and that would only make this whole situation a million times worse. Nope. You had to swallow it down. 

You groaned as you turned on the twin sized bed, the handcuffs connected to the headboard keeping your arm at an odd angle for so long that your shoulders were sore. It just went along with the rest of your body that was also in pain thanks to the brawl with Hawk. At least you could no longer taste blood but the sharp pain every time you moved your mouth told you that your lip was split. Wonderful. 

“Good mornin’, sleeping beauty.” 

Another groan escaped you, but this one of pure annoyance. You would know that voice anywhere. Hell, you were well acquainted with the majority of Vane and your father’s men. You could probably pick their elbows out of a lineup. 

“Dante,” you heavily sighed. “Can't say I'm happy to see you.” 

“As feisty as ever. That's no way to speak to me, though, princess. We go way back.” 

You shot a glare at Dante, your face otherwise expressionless. He was completely deranged if he thought you were even minimally happy to see him. 

“Can we just get this over with? Tell me what you want, why I'm here, yada yada.” 

Dante took a couple of steps further into the room until he was standing at your bedside. You resisted the urge to shrink away from his looming presence because you didn't want to show any weaknesses. No vulnerabilities. Nothing he could feast on. 

His eyes trailed your body and your stomach instantly churned again. Gross. Why were the men employed around you always such creeps? 

“I don't know. I think I enjoy seeing you like this more.” He reached out to brush your tangled hair back and your skin burned beneath his touch. It was nothing like when Noah touched you. There were no butterflies or lingering excitement. All you felt was disgust. 

Dante smirked before his fingers gripped your hair and your head was forced back. You winced as the pain splintered through your scalp, your jaw clenching so hard you thought you would shatter your teeth. 

“Boss isn't here yet so he would have no idea we played a bit,” he lowered his voice. “Doesn't that sound nice, princess?” 

“Fuck off!” You kicked out a leg but your foot only brushed his thigh before he stepped out of the line of impact. “Touch me and I'll fucking kill you.” 

Dante laughed from deep within his gut. He pushed your head away when he released your hair, his laughter fading to amused silence. “I was going to offer you some breakfast but I think I'll let you starve down here a bit longer.” 

Stomping away, he slammed the door behind himself, leaving you alone with your nausea. 

When the door opened again you knew at least three hours had passed because of the minutes you had counted. Your bladder was ready to burst and your mouth was so dry that drinking the ocean water sounded pleasant right then. 

“Are you going to be nicer this time?” Dante grinned down at you but he was already leaning over to unlock your wrist from the cuff without your response. 

“Bathroom break. I don't want to have to clean up your piss if you go on yourself.” 

You rubbed your raw wrists as you sat up, completely ignoring his statement. Dante then grabbed your arm and forced you off the small bed, a shove to your back placing you in front of him. 

“Walk.” 

“Okay, asshole. Find some goddamn patience.” 

Dante chuckled. “I really hope he knocks that smart mouth of yours right off.” 

The journey to the bathroom didn't take too long, but your lack of sea legs had definitely extended it by thirty seconds. You occasionally stumbled into a wall when the boat rocked one way, then went straight for the opposite wall when it righted itself. You really fucking hated boats, even nice ones like this. 

“You have three minutes.” Dante pushed you into the bathroom and promptly pulled the door closed before you could protest. Lucky for him you really needed to pee. 

After finishing your business, you hesitantly approached the bathroom counter. You didn't want to see your reflection. You knew you looked horrible. You didn't need a mirror verifying that for you. So, you kept your eyes down as you washed your hands and continued to try to concoct a plan. 

Could you use anything in the bathroom to defend yourself? No, it didn't look like it. You doubted a toilet paper roll would cause any damage. Your eyes frantically flitted around the bathroom in search of something, anything that could help you. You refused to believe that you were helpless to these men. Never again would you let that happen. 

“One minute!” Dante yelled, a bang on the door accompanying his countdown. 

Maybe all you needed was the element of surprise. 

You quickly stepped back into the small room that housed the toilet and climbed up onto it. You crouched, preparing yourself to attack when the moment arrived. You knew you only had seconds now before your time was up and Dante would storm in to drag you out. 

And that's exactly what happened. 

“Come on!” Dante again yelled, but when you didn't emerge, he didn't hesitate to invade the space. Since the area was small, he would find you. You weren't trying to hide necessarily, you just wanted to best him, even if only a little bit. 

As soon as his large form appeared in the doorway, you lunged at him. Your foot roughly pistoned into his chest to force him back and then you jumped down, kneeing right between his legs. Dante groaned in both pain and anger as he doubled over to grab his shriveled balls. This was it. Your chance to run. 

You bolted for the door, ignoring Dante’s demands for you to get back to him. Like hell were you going to do anything that he said. 

As fast you could you ran down the hallway, up the stairs, and onto the main level of the…yacht? Right, you knew you had recognized this boat. It was the exact one you had spent your childhood on with your family, back when you were too young to be sold to Vane and you were none the wiser to the horrible things your father was in control of. 

It had been quite some time since you were on the yacht last, but you still remembered bits of it. For example, you knew this door you were heading for would take you through the galley, then out into the dining room. As you pulled the door open, you were hit with a sweltering heat from the ovens and stoves being on in preparation for a meal. 

“Jesus,” you murmured to yourself. Just as you were about to exit the galley from the opposite door, you paused. Sitting there, as if waiting for you, was a long chef's knife. 

“Don't mind if I do.” Grinning to yourself, you snagged the sharp knife and then exited the galley. Your breathing was uneven and heavy as you tip toed through the formal dining room, your gaze shifting all around in case someone decided to jump out at you. But oddly enough, the yacht was mostly empty. You hadn't even seen a singular employee, which was unusual. 

There was then an intense shove on your back that sent you stumbling forward into the living area and down to your knees. The knife that had been in your hand was knocked away, a boot coming down to apply pressure to your wrist. You were too shocked to even realize what had happened until you looked up to see Hawk standing there, sporting a few injuries of his own. 

“Glad to see our last encounter had some lingering marks,” you laughed. Deep wounds were still present on his face from where you had shoved the bits of glass into. It may have hurt your hand like a bitch, but you knew it caused him more pain than yourself. 

“I'm really going to enjoy making you bleed,” Hawk threatened as his boot twisted down onto your wrist, forcing a cry of pain from you. 

“Hawk! No!” Dante came stumbling in a few seconds later, still nursing his bruised balls. “You heard what boss said. He doesn't want any more marks on her.” 

With Hawk temporarily distracted by Dante, you were able to reach over his leg with your free hand and snag the chef’s knife. You didn't even think as you sunk the blade into his calf, immediately causing him to stagger back and yell. Blood gushed from the wound, staining the previously pristine white carpet you were lying atop. 

“You fucking bitch!” Hawk erupted while applying pressure to the deep wound. “I'm going to fucking kill you!” 

Dante was suddenly yanking you up and wrestling the knife from your grasp. You grunted and fisted your free hand, aiming it right for his jaw. The hit landed, but not as hard as you would've preferred. It barely even fazed him. Dante bent your wrist to the side and you gasped from the pain shooting up your arm, the knife falling to the floor once more. He huffed in annoyance before pushing you back onto the couch, somewhere you couldn't cause anymore damage. 

“Quit your fucking hollering,” he spat at Hawk while pushing his sweat dampened hair out of his face. 

“Let her stab you in the leg and let's see how much you yell!” 

Dante ignored Hawk, his sights instead set on you. “Hawk wasn't lying when he said you were quite the fighter now.” He deviously smirked. “I like this grown up version of you, princess.” 

“Yeah? Well, I still hate you.” 

The insult only caused Dante’s smirk to grow. He was just as sick as the rest of them. 

“Come on.” Dante reached forward and grabbed a handful of your hair to yank you up from the couch, now dragging you back down to the underbelly of the yacht where you had been before. 

“Let go of me!” You yelled while trying to retrieve your hair from his fist but his grip was relentless. “I can't wait until Noah finds me and kicks your ass. And he will find me, you know. Just you fucking wait. You're going to be so sorry.”

The words continued to spill from you, though you weren't even sure how true they were. It's what you wanted to believe. Noah would come after you, right? He would continue to protect you. He would pull you close and tell you everything would be okay, that he would never leave your side again. 

…right? 

Dante laughed before dropping you down onto the twin bed. You tried to kick him away, but he easily overpowered you. Both of his hands held your wrists down, his face mere inches from your own. There was a fire in his eyes and you weren't ready to find out what that would lead to. 

“You think your precious King is going to come for you? I thought you were smarter than that, princess.” He smirked, his breath warm and unsettling as it crossed your skin. “You don't really know who he is, do you? The sort of things he gets into?” 

As his grip loosened on your wrists, you thought you were going to be released, but all it did was give his hands the ability to trail down your arms in a way that made your stomach turn. 

“I hope he does come,” Dante murmured after tucking his face into the crook of your neck and deeply inhaling your scent. You grimaced as you tried to turn your head as far to the opposite direction as you possibly could. “Then I'd get to see your face when you realize that he's also one of the bad guys.” 

Click. The cuff had been secured around your wrist again, keeping you from leaving the bed. 

With that, Dante forcefully shoved himself away from you and stomped out of the room, slamming the door on his way. 

X X X 

You weren't sure how much time had passed this time. Even counting down the minutes had lost its appeal since that's all you had to do. No other form of entertainment was provided to you. Meals had been brought to you twice, both of them left mostly untouched at the end of the bed. And when Dante came for your bathroom breaks, or sent one of his little lackeys, they were now going into the bathroom with you. At least they turned their backs, unlike Dante who held intense eye contact with you throughout the duration.  

The longer you were captured, the more you began to lose hope. Perhaps Noah wasn't coming for you after all. Maybe he figured you being taken was a blessing because it was one less headache for him to have to deal with. You sucked in a sharp breath as the thought burrowed its way into your mind, immediately causing you to feel the effects both emotionally and physically. 

Your stomach turned, your hands shaking. Tears burned behind your eyelids but you didn't want to let them fall. Unfortunately, you were only but so strong. A couple managed to slip down your cheeks, though you quickly wiped them away before they could saturate the flat pillow. 

What the hell was the hold up, anyway? How much longer would you be kept beneath the boat, just waiting to find out what the fuck was going on? 

The sound of murmuring voices outside the door caused your eyes to spring open. There had only been one person coming in and out at a time, never two. You strained to hear what was being said, but you couldn't make anything out. The voices grew louder and more urgent until fading off as they walked away, or so you assumed. 

You were just about to close your eyes again when you heard the door unlock and open slowly. You squinted through the dim light in an attempt to see who it was because the movements didn't sound anything like Hawk or Dante. They were much more heavy handed and footed compared to this new visitor. 

“Nick?” You squeaked out when you finally were able to make sense of the familiar face in the doorway. 

Nicholas stood there unmoving and expressionless, though his bright eyes were locked on you. Sitting up, you tried to pull your wrist from the cuff again, your panic once more settling in. Was he here to help you? Or had he been working for your dad all along? 

“Nick!” You whisper-yelled, your tone pleading. “Please let me out. Please.” Your voice cracked and the insufferable tears began pooling again, your vision becoming blurry from the amount of them. 

He still had yet to say a word. He merely stared at you, blinked rapidly a few times as if he was trying to make sense of what he was seeing, and then slowly backed out of the doorway. 

“Nick! Don't leave me here! Please!” Your begging was useless, though. He had quietly closed the door, leaving you alone again, but now with just your sobs to keep you company. 

NOAH POV

Too much time had passed. You could've been taken anywhere at this point, but that didn't mean he was going to give up. 

There were men all around the city checking up on leads, scoping out your father’s properties, and reporting back on anything that was even slightly interesting. He refused to let this end in tragedy. 

Noah’s jaw tightened as he watched the footage of you being taken again and again. You were limp as you were tossed into the backseat of the large SUV without a second thought, like you were nothing more than a tedious basket of laundry. He recognized the man in the grainy footage because he was one of the three who had come to Jolly’s office that day in search of you. He wasn't the one who spoke, but instead the large one to the left that Noah had easily pinpointed as the muscle of the group. 

This was his fault. He should've done more to keep you safe. He should've kept you closer, but he had been scared. Allowing you in would've meant dropping his walls and barriers, subsequently revealing the true means behind Nocturnal. That would've only put you into even more danger. 

Shaking his head, Noah promptly exited the screen that held the footage. His elbows then propped up on the desk, his hands scrubbing over his face in both exhaustion and annoyance. He had barely slept a couple of hours since you were taken and it was really starting to catch up to him. Jolly had demanded he sleep but it was no use. As soon as his eyes would close, he’d be haunted by images of your face. Of how scared you must've been. Of how alone you probably were now. And that's only if you were still alive. 

No. He wouldn't allow himself to think like that. 

The irritating sound of his phone ringing brought him back down to reality. He heavily sighed, but ultimately snatched his phone up and brought it to his ear to answer. 

“What?” 

“Her dad owns a few yachts,” the guy opened the conversation with. 

“And?”

“And a couple have been docked at the marina for about a week now.” 

Noah sat up a little straighter, his brows knitting together as he thought. That was definitely interesting since you were from the other side of the country. Why would your father’s yachts be here? 

A banging at the door caused Noah's eyes to flick upwards, but he made no move to answer it yet. Only Jolly knew the code to get inside, so he already knew it wasn't him demanding his presence. 

“Send me what you have on the yachts and the marina.” 

Ending the call, he crossed his office to the door that was again being pounded on. Noah slid his phone into his pocket, the same hand clutching the top of his gun that was tucked into the back of his pants, just as he swung the door open. Standing beyond the threshold was not a face he was expecting to see. 

“Ruffilo,” he breathed out with disdain. 

Nick smirked, his own expression full of amusement. “That was a shitty greeting.” 

“Well, I'm in a shitty mood.” 

“Girl troubles?” 

Noah's eyes narrowed in on him, both of them falling silent as they stared the other down. He knew something. But what sort of information could he possibly have? 

“What do you want? How did you even get up here?” 

Nicholas shrugged, one hand shoved into his pocket, the other twisting around the Zippo lighter in his palm. He never went anywhere without that damned thing. “The door was open so I just walked in.” 

“You walked in?” 

“As one does when a door is unlocked, yes.” 

Noah heaved a breath of pure annoyance before turning away from the door, silently telling Nicholas that he could come in. 

“What do you want?” He repeated, his voice more stern this time. He was in no mood to play games, especially not with Nicholas. He always had an affinity for mind games and that was the last thing he needed right then. 

“I think I could have some intel you'd find…appealing.” Nicholas grinned as he closed the door and then wasted no time in making himself comfortable on the couch. He leaned back into the cushions, one arm extended over the top. 

“But, I want something in return for it.” 

“Of course you do. What makes you think I want anything you have?” 

Noah was bluffing. He probably would've given Nick anything right then if what he knew pertained to you. Although, he couldn't let on how desperate he was. 

The smile Nicholas wore only extended until it took up the majority of his face. There was always something so sinister about this particular expression and it made Noah’s skin crawl. Fucking psycho, that's what Nick was. 

“I'm going to be straight forward because I don't have time to linger.” Nick sighed, as if he was upset his little game had been disturbed. “I know where she is and who's keeping her. I'll tell you everything if you help me with one simple task.” 

Noah raised his brows, awaiting whatever it was Nicholas could possibly want. He wasn't in the mood for these dramatic pauses of his. 

“Help me kill Red.” 

Well, that wasn't something he had seen coming. 

“You want to kill your own grandfather?” 

Nicholas shrugged in a nonchalant manner, his lighter opening and closing a couple of times. “He's in my way. And you know how much of an asshole he is.” 

Oh, Noah definitely knew. He also knew that Red had been his top target for years now, ever since his parents had died. He could've killed him many times but none of those moments had been right. They easily would've landed him in prison or dead as well, and he didn't want either of those things to be the outcome. 

Taking in a deep breath, Noah nodded. “Fine.” 

Appearing visibly taken back, Nicholas opened his mouth to speak but then promptly closed it to further contemplate. He spoke only after a few long seconds had passed. 

“That's it? You'll help me?” 

“Yes.”

“You're not even going to ask me why or question me more to see if my intentions are true?” 

“No, because I don't care. All I want is the information you promised me.” 

Noah eyed his former best friend, waiting rather impatiently for him to come forth with whatever he knew. When Nick didn't yet speak, Noah again let his aggravation be known. 

“You're telling me what you know before I help you with Red,” he exclaimed. “I'm already wasting time that I don't have.” 

Nicholas appeared as if he wanted to argue but he bit back his retort. Good. This meant he knew what was good for him. 

“Park Cove Marina,” Nicholas sighed, eyes rolling. “The yacht she's on is called The Genevieve. Poetic, huh?”

If he had been in a better mood, Noah probably would have chuckled at that. Did this mean your choice of alter ego at Nocturnal was done with a purpose? He made a mental note to question you on it later once you were safe and in his arms. 

“There's about five men on board, all with instructions to keep her locked away in a room beneath the boat. They've been told not to harm her, but…”

“But?” Noah could feel the heat within himself rising. He was going to kill anyone who laid a finger on you. If you had suffered even a mere paper cut, someone would pay. 

“But we both know how headstrong she can be. All injuries are superficial, though.” 

You weren't dead. That's the main thing Noah chose to take from Nick’s reveal. But just because you were currently unharmed, didn't mean it would stay that way. He had to move fast, with or without backup. 

“Weapons?”

Nicholas shrugged in a nonchalant manner. “Your usual handguns and knives. Nothing automatic from what I saw.” 

“What's their objective?” 

“Why the fuck are you talking like a military asshole?” Nick looked his childhood friend up and down with a grimace before he finally continued. “They're waiting for their boss to get there. I don't know what's taking him so long but I'd say you have…maybe until tonight to get her out.” 

“Her father is here?” Noah previously assumed the man had sent his little worker bees to get the job done.

A smirk ticked up Nick’s lips and he adjusted his position on the couch, one hand tugging at his suit jacket to try to make himself seem more casual. All of his motions were robotic; learned from studying people to make himself appear more normal. Noah saw right through it. He always had. 

“No, not her father. He has his hand in this, sure, but he's not the one calling the shots.” 

X X X 

It hadn't taken Noah long to put everything together. With a little more prying of information out of Nicholas, the big picture was slowly coming along. He had placed a new target on your father’s head, one he would get to eventually, but there were a couple more in front of him that needed tending to since he wasn't an immediate threat. 

His top goal was to get you out safely, though. After that, he would go on the much needed rampage to prevent this from ever happening again. No longer would you have to run and hide behind a fake identity. You could live the life of freedom you rightfully deserved. Noah was going to make sure of it, even if he had to die trying. 

And he truly meant that. 

Hidden beneath the cover of the deepening night, Noah peered up at the yacht from across the marina. He knew this wouldn't be difficult once on the boat, if what Nick said was true about there only being five or so men, but not being seen ahead of time was the true test. He didn't want to give these assholes any time to call in backup. 

“Are we set?” Jackson questioned as he exited the car to stand by Noah’s side. It was just the two of them. Jolly had opted not to join, claiming he needed to tend to things at Nocturnal. Noah wanted to argue with him but he knew Jolly was serious about keeping their main operation going. Jolly wouldn't let anyone get in the way of it, not even his closest friend and partner. 

“Just waiting for the ‘okay’ from Nick.” 

Nicholas had skirted around telling Noah what he was even doing on the yacht to begin with. He would only smirk and change the subject, but something was telling Noah that Red had something to do with this. You couldn't have one egotistical asshole with an agenda without another there to impede. 

Against better judgement, Noah had stopped questioning him on it. For now. He would get the answers he was searching for, even if it meant having to use force to get them. Nick was tough to crack, though. Psychopaths didn't react to threats or pain the same way a normal, law abiding citizen would. But until it came to that, Noah was going to have to trust Nicholas. After all, your life depended on it. 

Just as the realization dawned on him, his phone vibrated in his hand. A message came through from Nicholas, exclaiming to him that the coast was clear. Nick was to be their lookout until they made it onto the yacht. After that, he would have to continue to play the part so as to not draw suspicions onto himself. 

Didn't bother Noah one bit as long as Nicholas stayed out of his way. 

“Let's go,” he murmured to Jackson, nodding his head in the direction of The Genevieve. 

The pair stuck to the shadows, the sound of the boats rocking atop the water helping to shield the sound of their footsteps the closer they drew to their destination. It was a quiet night other than that, with only the faint sound of music drifting down the long dock. In the distance Noah could see lights from another yacht, one that was more than likely hosting some sort of party, or whatever it was rich pricks did to show off their wealth. This party was also of no concern to him. Maybe it would assist in their cover in the long run. 

With his hand clutching his gun, Noah’s sights remained set on your father’s yacht. His anticipation was rising the closer he got to the boat because that meant he was closer to retrieving you, so he had to take deep breaths to keep his heart rate at a normal level. He needed to leave his adrenaline for when the inevitable fight would begin. 

Circling around to the back of the yacht, he remained on the edge of the dock with Jackson right behind him. They would separate once on the boat. He lifted a hand to signal to Jackson to halt so he could listen for any sounds of people around. When he figured it was clear, Noah carefully stepped onto the rear of the yacht, and headed for the narrow staircase to take him to the main level. 

Dim lights were on, but that was the least of Noah's concerns. He was more focused on the pool of blood on the white carpet in the living room area. His jaw tensed but he quickly averted his gaze back up to what was in front of him. He couldn't dwell on the possibility of that being your blood. He needed to focus on the mission and worry about your potential injuries later. 

“Take the right stairs and go up,” he commanded of Jackson. “I’m going to go down and find her.” 

Jackson gave a swift nod and then disappeared to the right side of the yacht, his position crouched, gun extended out in front of him at the ready. Only when he could no longer see him did Noah continue his way to the left, down the long hallway-like cut that would bring him to the stairs to head down. Just as Nicholas had explained. 

He had just turned towards the top of the staircase when a voice sounded through. It was a faint murmur, but it was getting louder as if they were climbing the stairs. Noah pivoted to the side and pressed himself flat against the wall. As soon as the man was in view, Noah jutted his elbow out, the collision impacting the man’s nose and sending a rush of blood out immediately. He didn't give the man time to figure out what was happening, though. Noah had tucked his gun away and had the man in a headlock before he could even call out for help. He tightly squeezed around the man's neck, cutting off all air flow. The man slapped against his forearm, but every hit became less impactful until he fell still in his arms. 

Killing didn't used to come naturally to him; his first time taking a life still haunted him periodically. But when he was trying to protect someone he cared about, he would take on the task without a second thought. 

After slowly lowering the man to the floor to prevent any sounds from calling attention to himself, Noah continued his trek down to the underbelly of the yacht. This would need to be faster than planned because he didn't want to risk anyone stumbling across the dead body above. His heart was pounding within his chest, his eyes frantically searching for the door Nicholas had described. He said it wouldn't be locked because you were handcuffed to the bed and there was no threat of you escaping. Idiots. They should always lock the door from the outside when holding someone captive. Thankfully their stupidity would benefit him. 

READER POV 

If this told you anything, it was that you'd never last in prison. Solitary confinement? What a joke. You'd be ripping your hair out before the door was even locked. You didn't mind being alone when it was in a comfortable space such as your apartment or even Noah’s, but you were the exact opposite of comfortable right then. You were terrified. Annoyed. Confused. In pain. You had tried prying your hands free from the cuffs again after seeing Nicholas and obviously that hadn't worked out in your favor since you were still trapped. 

Dried blood now stained your wrists, the wounds you had created throbbing and stinging with every move you made. So, you tried to lay as still as you could. Your senses were already beginning to dull from all the other pain you felt within your body. Your shoulders, hips, face. Your fucking dignity. How weak did you have to be to not even be able to take a couple of days of being trapped? 

Sleep came and went, or maybe you were passing out from lack of water and food, but you were trying your best to stay alert. The last time you let it overtake you, you had woken up to one of Dante’s henchmen stroking your face and ogling your chest like a starved man. That was just great. Now you couldn't even go to sleep to pass the time because there was no telling what these Neanderthal-like creatures would do to you. 

“He's not coming,” you whispered to yourself. Your eyes squeezed shut and you angled your head to bury it into the single pillow you had been given. There was a tingle in your throat as you tried to hold back your tears, your jaw clenched tight enough to cause an ache in the muscle. “No one's coming.” 

Fuck. You needed to snap out of it. This wasn't you. You weren't the type to wallow in your pain and give up. You were better than that. Stronger. You may have been broken in the past by these men, but you sure as shit weren't going to let it happen again. 

Taking in a deep breath, you winced as you sat up the best you could, your arms slowly shifting to a downwards angle to help ease your tight shoulders into the position. Okay, problem number one: you needed to get the handcuffs off. But how? The bed frame wasn't the newest but it wasn't like this was some rundown boat. It was still in good condition, no weak spots, so you wouldn't be able to break it without enough leverage. And that wasn't something you were going to get in this position. 

Honestly, you had even contemplated somehow breaking your hands so you could squeeze them through the wrist openings, but that plan was quickly shot to hell. Not only would you need your hands to further escape, but you also didn't have the means to break your hands like this. Or the guts. 

Unfortunately, your brainstorming could only go so far because it was interrupted by the door abruptly swinging open. It crashed against the wall, the sudden sound causing you to jump and turn, eyes wide. Two bodies tangled together, grunting, throwing punches and desperately trying to pull free a weapon. It took you a moment to comprehend what was happening, but once you did, there was a flutter in your chest and a grin spread across your lips. 

Noah. 

He had actually come for you. He was fighting Hawk, though. This couldn't be good. Not when he had a good eighty pounds on Noah, if not more. You yanked at your restraints in another vain attempt at freeing yourself. There was no way you were going to let Hawk take Noah down right in front of you. Fuck that. 

Noah slammed Hawk to the floor as the thought crossed your mind, his fist connecting with his nose hard enough to send blood flowing from it. The bone made a deafening crunch sound that was vulgar enough to even make you wince. Hawk’s eyes drooped as he struggled with Noah, trying his best to land hits of his own but Noah somehow managed to block every single one. He was fast and smart, easily anticipating every move Hawk was about to make. 

Wild eyes glanced your way before dropping to the pillow bunched at your side. “Toss me that,” he breathlessly requested, nodding to the pillow. 

You shook your hands to show that you weren't able to really do that, but you then groaned and shifted around uncomfortably until you could kick the pillow just enough to send it falling to the floor within Noah’s reach. He immediately grabbed it with one hand, the other retrieving his gun before he simultaneously layered the two on Hawk’s face. Pillow first, his fist pressing down into it, then he fired the gun straight into the fluff to muffle the sound. It was still loud enough to make you yelp with shock because everything was happening so fast and you hadn't really registered what the hell was going on. 

But…at least Hawk had grown completely still. 

Your eyes were still wide, breathing heavy as you stared at the pool of blood growing beneath where Hawk remained. 

“You just…he’s…” you stammered over your words, heavily swallowing. Fuck, you were actually going to be sick this time. 

“Yeah,” Noah shrugged after pulling himself to his feet and rushing over to you. He didn't say anything else before he grabbed your jaw and pulled your face to his, your lips connecting in a forceful kiss. You ignored the sharp pain from your busted lip because just having Noah there made everything feel so much better. What pain? All you felt was warmth. 

The kiss didn't last long, but it was just enough to give you the taste of him you had been craving. Noah pulled back to gaze down at you, his eyes softening when he took in the bruises and cuts on your face. The look was fleeting, quickly covered with a blazing anger. 

“We need to get out of here,” he murmured. Noah released your face and glanced at the cuffs securing your wrists. He cursed under his breath in ever growing annoyance. 

“Do you know where the keys are?” 

“Um…” you tried to rack your brain and then slowly dropped your eyes to where Hawk’s body rested. “Try his pockets.” 

Noah didn't hesitate to step back over to Hawk’s lifeless body, immediately digging through his pockets. He was moving quickly as he emptied both front pockets with no luck. Then, he shoved Hawk over on his side like it was no big deal, just a dead body, so he could search his back pockets. 

“Got ‘em,” he breathed in relief. 

The moment your wrists were free, you threw your arms around Noah and practically jumped into his body. His own arms circled around you, holding you as close as possible. Burying your face into the crook of his neck, you fought back your tears the best you could. You were just so damn happy to see him. It was impossible to even put it into words. 

How he had become so important to you in such a short time, you would never know. 

Noah's hands tightly clasped your lower back, then secured at your hips before running up your back, like he just had to touch you wherever he could. You could feel his fingers trembling and while you weren't entirely sure why, something told you it was the anger he was experiencing. Not because of you, but for you. 

“I'm okay,” you repeated into his neck again and again, reassuring him as much as you could of the statement. “It'll take more than a few cuts and bruises to keep me down.” 

“I'm so fucking sorry,” Noah breathed into your hair just before planting a kiss to the top of your head. 

You shook your head, refusing to let his apologies settle. “Let's just get out of here, okay? We need to go before my dad shows up.” 

There was a depth to Noah's eyes as he blinked at you then gave a shake of his own head. You could tell there was something he wanted to say, but for whatever reason he was holding back. You weren't sure if it was something you needed to question right then, not when survival should've been your top priority. 

“We can talk about it later but you should know now that it's not your da–”

Noah was cut off by a body filling the doorway, a gun pointed in your direction. You jumped and immediately backed into Noah who grabbed your waist, your breath catching in your throat. Even Noah was tense against you, until you both settled upon realizing it was Jackson standing there. He released a sigh of relief, though you were very aware of the blood that coated his black jacket and stained his jeans. Shit. 

“How many?” Noah asked as he began to take inventory of his ammo. He casually passed a knife your way without a word, your fingers shaking as they secured around the hilt. 

“Two,” Jackson responded between his labored breathing. 

Noah gave a single nod. “Same. That means there's hopefully only one more wandering around.” 

Their voices sounded miles away because you were staring down at the knife, silently wondering to yourself if you'd be able to kill someone if it came down to it. Just because you had previously stabbed Hawk in the leg didn't mean you had the guts to bury the blade somewhere more lethal. 

“We should work on getting off the yacht instead of searching for him,” Noah continued, to which Jackson gave a nod of agreement. “Let him live to send that asshole our warning.” 

Hands were then smoothing over your shoulders, fingers digging into the sore muscles hard enough that you nearly moaned from the sensation. Noah’s body crowded your own, his hands slowly working their way up your neck until he was cradling your jaw again. His touch was soft, much softer than it had ever been. 

“Are you okay?” 

You took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, shrugging simultaneously. “Ask me that once we're somewhere safe.” That wasn't necessarily an easy question to answer. Physically? Yes, you were fine, just sore. Mentally? Eh…

Noah mimicked your deep breath with one of his own, the worry evident in his eyes. You were thankful that he opted not to press the topic for now. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed your forehead, the scent of him encompassing you. 

“You're to stay between me and Jackson, okay? Move quickly but quietly. Once we're off the yacht, I want you to bolt east. You'll see my car. Don't look back, just run. Can you do that for me?” 

“You think I know which way east is?” 

Noah tried to fight his smile but it peeked through enough to cause a smile of your own to form. He shook his head as he ran a hand over your hair, lightly brushing the messy strands back behind your ear. 

“You never fail to amaze me,” he teased, and you both softly chuckled. 

Jackson bounced impatiently in the doorway. “We gotta go.” 

With a final look Noah guided you forward with a gentle press to your lower back. Jackson took the lead, his stance something from an action movie. You were impressed but you also felt very under prepared. Maybe even a little useless. What the fuck were you supposed to do if something happened? Get all stabby? You tried to ignore the 'brought a knife to a gunfight’ line that was hindering your thoughts. You kept telling yourself that you'd be fine. Jackson was obviously heavily trained and Noah wouldn't let anything happen to you. Unfortunately, you were more concerned about something happening to them. 

“Breathe,” Noah whispered from behind you, leading you to realize that you had been holding your breath as the three of you took to the stairs. “Can't have you passing out.” 

Jackson paused at the top of the steps, a hand held back to signal for you to stop as well. He looked back and forth before motioning for you to continue, so you did. One foot in front of the other. The knife held close at your side, ready to defend yourself. 

Thankfully you made it through the yacht without incident, though there was something eerie about the silence. It didn't feel right. You felt as if you were being watched, and not just by Noah behind you. Was it really this easy? You refused to believe it because things were never this easy for you. Not when it came to your father. 

A shock rippled through you as you jumped from the yacht and onto the dock. Noah had told you to run but you couldn't seem to get your legs to obey. It felt wrong to leave them behind. That's not how you wanted to be remembered–as someone who ran. You kept a brisk pace, Noah still trailing close behind. Just as you were about to glance back at him, a shot rang through the silence, followed by a sudden groan of pain. 

No! 

Noah bumped into you, nearly sending both of you toppling to the damp dock. Your first instinct was to immediately turn and reach for him, and what you saw was a pained expression written all over his features. He was grabbing at his side with one hand as the other aimed his gun upwards, a few rounds firing out towards the yacht. You were too focused on helping him stand, along with the help of Jackson, to even think about looking up to see who remained. 

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Jackson took most of Noah’s weight that he couldn’t support himself, but what was given to you was far more than what your overly exhausted and dehydrated body could properly manage. You winced from the heaviness draped over your shoulders, though you refused to give up. If it had been you, Noah would've slung you over his shoulder and carried you to safety without a thought. You could at least manage to be his crutch. 

“How far is the car?!” You whisper-yelled at Jackson. More shots sounded around you but none must've hit, thank fucking god. 

“It's not far. You're going to get into the back and stop the bleeding. I'll get us out of here. Okay?” 

The bleeding. 

You glanced down to see your own shirt stained from where Noah’s injured side was pressed against you. Your eyes widen with fear, a sob threatening to break free. No, no, no. You couldn't lose him. You refused to. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. Noah didn't deserve this. None of the people helping you did. 

“He’s going to be okay,” Jackson continued when he caught sight of your face and the tears welling in your eyes. 

“I've had worse,” Noah then groaned between a sharp gasp, his brows knitting together. 

Once the three of you had finally made it to the car, Jackson helped you haul Noah into the back, where you also took up space. Then, he was off, flooring it through the marina to get you all to safety. 

“I don't know what I'm supposed to do!” You loudly announced as Noah began helping you lift his shirt. There in his right side was a bullet hole weeping blood, the crimson staining your hands from your attempts to press against it to halt the bleeding. 

“Just find something to help stop the bleeding,” Jackson exclaimed in a tone that was far too calm for this situation. Fuck, he was good under pressure. Not something you could say about yourself. 

Doing a quick glance around, you didn't see anything of use. Noah's car was insanely clean, unlike how yours used to be filled with clothes and forgotten water bottles. Your eyes fell to your shirt and it was suddenly ripped off your body, the fabric pressed firm to Noah’s injury. 

“I need you to tell me if there's an exit wound.”

“What?” You had no idea what Jackson had just said. The sound of your own blood was rushing through your ears, fingers sticky with blood still trembling while pushing the fabric of your shirt firm into Noah’s wound. He was pale, his eyelashes fluttering across the top of his cheeks when he didn't even have enough strength to keep his eyes open anymore. 

“An exit wound!” Jackson repeated louder, needing to be heard over your near hyperventilating-level panting. “Did the bullet come out?” 

Your eyes frantically searched Noah’s body and you shrugged, the question being too much with everything else overworking your brain. “I don't know! Fuck! I don't think so.” 

Jackson didn't say anything else, but you did believe you felt the car lurch forward slightly to indicate him pressing harder onto the accelerator. 

“Where are we going?” You questioned through your sniffles and tears that you hadn't even realized had started falling. 

Jackson took in a deep breath before he responded. “Nocturnal.” 

“He needs a hospital!” 

Why the fuck would you guys need to go to the club? You knew going to the hospital with a gunshot wound wasn't the most ideal, but you were willing to risk everything to make sure Noah made it through this. Police interrogation be damned. 

“Everything he can get at a hospital, he can also get at Nocturnal. Trust me.”

Well, it wasn't like you had much of a choice.

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The Mandalorian s3 e1 & 2 Review

Just some articulated thoughts about chapters 17 and 18 because I have opinions.

Spoiler Alert!!!

The first two episodes of The Mandalorian season 3 have both been a flop so far. First off, episode one just carried on from where Boba Fett's show left off with absolutely no explanation as to why or how Grogu is back with Din for the viewers who maybe didn't watch TBoBF, which is fucking annoying because it forces people to watch something they might not have been interested in in the first place.

Secondly, they should have of built up to Din going to Mandalore and getting some character development where he realizes that there is more to his life than just blindly following his covert's beliefs. And that life-altering epiphany along with his reunion with Grogu, learning how to properly wield the dark saber, and reaching the planet that was razed to the ground (depending on his decision on whether or not to rejoin the covert) should've been the overarching storyline. Instead we get to start off episode two with Din arriving at the desolate planet with Grogu in tow.

And don't even get me started on the sudden inclusion of Bo-Katan as Din's trusty sidekick. You know, the woman who joined an extremist group that was pretty open about their plan to assassinate the ruler of Mandalor -which was her sister at the time- just because they didn't like that she was a pacifist. The very same woman who wants the dark saber, not because she's selflessly trying to rebuild her people, their home, and their culture, but because she's selfishly after power. The woman who would happily slit Din's throat in a heartbeat if it meant that she could have the dark saber. That Bo-Katan? Yeah, okay. Needless to say, I'm finding the "new best friend" Bo-Katan storyline a hard pill to swallow.

Also can we acknowledge that Din falling like he did while bathing in the living waters was fucking dumb. I tried to rationalize it, giving him the benefit of the doubt by writing it off as him just being woozy from blood loss and not noticing the drop off. But even then, that doesn't explain why he plummeted so far, so ridiculously fast. It's because his armor is heavy!!! I can hear you typing furiously. But, you're wrong. We've seen in the previous season that the armor that Din wears is not actually that heavy. Like on the ship in s2e3 "The Heiress" he dives into the water and then is able to swim to the surface, treading water and holding onto the bars. The point is, he didn't sink. And he should have immediately went straight to the bottom of the hold after diving into the water if we were to believe that the beskar is really that heavy. Basically what I'm trying to say is that they are already retconning shit they've established just to hit these lame story beats instead of just writing the scene in a way that is loyal to the rules they've set in previous seasons and it's only the third season.

I fear that it can only get worse from here.

Oh! And I recently watched a short on YouTube that put some things into perspective about the choices that were made regarding the entire show. Apparently seasons 1 and 2 were filmed pretty much back-to-back, so while s1 was just airing, they were already well into shooting s2. So that means that the showrunners had no idea how big Grogu was going to get, which is why he was always handed off to someone else or left on the ship/in the pram and had very limited screentime in both season 1 and 2. It also explains the horribly rushed reunion because it is my belief that it was the writers original intention to write Grogu off the show at the end of season 2 by sending him away with Luke (and they would only bring him back as a cameo or something along those lines).

But with "Baby Yoda's" sudden internet popularity, they had to basically abandon their initial goal in order to keep their tiny, adorable cash cow (affectionate). If this theory of mine were true, it would also explain why Grogu's inclusion in s3 so far has been a bit awkward, like the writers aren't quite sure what to do with him and they just wrote him into scenes simply for him to be there. Because to me it felt like Bo-Katan was supposed to have accompanied Din to Mandalore from the jump, but then they had to change the script so that Grogu could do something other than just sit in his pram and look cute the entire time (like going to fetch Bo-Katan when Din is put out of commission). That would also make the pacing issues of episode 2 make sense cause it definitely took a while for Grogu to fly to Bo-Katan's castle (I doubt that she was less then an hour away) and the villain just so happened to wait to start up the machine to drain Din of blood until Grogu made the trip there and back? Yeah, no.

Also, I refuse to believe that Grogu couldn't help Din escape with his "force powers" at this point (take for example his feats in TBoBF), so him not even really trying was just a poorly disguised plot device to get Bo-Katan involved. And the minute that the audience notices that the plot is driving the characters, and not the other way around, the cracks start to become visible, breaking the immersion and making the show unenjoyable to watch because then fans (like me) are just gonna start picking apart everything that's wrong with the story.

[hersweetrevenge]

Annabel!!! ~

I'm here to drop that ask. Go ham about Bo and Vinny's relationship pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase?🥺🙏

(and some Lester if you think of anything!!!!!)

oh erika you do indulge me !! 💖 this is going to get long and rambling and there's no way its going to be as articulate as it sound in my head, but i will never pass up an opportunity to talk about bo and vincent and their terrible sibling relationship.

this will be part timeline development, part headcanons, part something something "they need each other to survive"

i have less detailed thoughts about lester, and by my own admission i unfairly leave him out of a lot of what i write (over on @writing-good-vibes) just because i find it harder to figure out what his dynamic would be within the household.

(also i just want to add a small content warning. trudy and victor were not good parents and it was the 1970s, a lot of the in-universe attitudes towards bo and vincent that i'm going to mention aren't super nice. also, i am not an expert, so although i'm going to be talking about what likely was said about them in the 70s vs what we as audience can infer about them, none of this is conclusive and some of it isn't my place to start labelling or assuming, so i'll add link to a few other posts made by people that know way more than i do)

first things first, i've said it once and i'll say it again: bo needs vincent more than vincent needs bo !!

childhood

ever since they were kids, its been "bo and vincent". or "the twins". as much as i think trudy and victor instilled a heavy sense of competition between them (the whole "why can't you be more like your brother?" thing), i think on a day to day basis, it would be way easier to just lump them together and treat them as a joint package. people ask "How are the twins?" or "are the twins coming to so-and-so's birthday?" or "where have the twins got to?"

their "twin identity" is definitely effected by their looks. bo looks how vincent was "meant to", while vincent looks how bo feels. i can't imagine how it would be for vincent seeing bo all the time and thinking that is what he could have looked like, if he was the "main" twin. there's probably a lot of jealousy there that was fostered very early on, and their parents probably (definitely) didn't help with that.

being conjoined and self-soothing

their co-dependency began very early. in the womb, you might even say. they were probably separated because it was a low-risk surgery (this post explains in much better detail about how/why they would have been separated) although they obviously don't remember anything about their time being conjoined, i think it effected their ability to self-soothe. even after being separated it isn't that uncommon, especially in the 70s, to keep twins together in a crib and given that they we used to sleeping next to each other, i don't see why that wouldn't have continued. they're used to having the other twin close by. anyway, where was i going with this? oh yeah, i really think bo and vincent are terrible at self-soothing. they never needed too, as babies they had each other, so if one cried, the other one was there before anyone else. this is why, as they get older, neither has the ability to self-soothe, they aren't able to ground themselves properly. ironically they are very good at comforting others, but on the flip side they need someone (usually the other twin as their is literally no one else around) to be able to regulate their emotions.

my second ever sinclair twins fic was about how when bo is, essentially, disassociating, he needs time with vincent to soothe him. needs familiarity and comfort more than anything. this isn't a super frequent thing, maybe once a month one of them will have a bad spell and they'll sleep in the same bed. it's more difficult now they're adults, but they've been doing it since they were children (not going to think about them falling asleep together after one of bo's meltdowns and his wrists are still rubbed raw from the restraints) and they're not going to give it up any time soon. they usually don't talk about it because although deep down they both know how much they need the other, they don't really ever vocalise it. it's part of their bond, they don't actually talk, they just know.

unless, of course, they get into an argument and bo is quick to be as hurtful as possible, with vincent being just as cutting. honestly vince can hurt bo way more, because bo is nothing if not insecure.

neurodivergence

their early development definitely contributed to how they were both pegged against one another whilst also both being kind of written off as "defective" (an awful word but in the early 70s, a middle-class family having two, very young "problem children"? trudy and victor were probably thinking they'd got the short straw)

i think bo was the first to show signs of possible "behavioural problems. his "tantrums" were in all likelihood probably emotional meltdowns, which already singled him out as the "bad" twin, while vincent was considered the "good" twin.

i've talked before about how i think bo started speaking very late (me and @imbleedin-out have talked about him being being selectively mute). vincent is obviously also nonverbal, and i think a lot of the twins early binding was solidified in their communication. their twin talk (scientifically known as cryptophasia, apparently) lasted throughout their childhood and they still do it as adults. a mix of vocalisations and made up signs, as well as just certain looks, and they can understand each other as much as if they were speaking english.

despite being the favourite, i don't think vincent was treated perfectly either. both he and bo are neurodivergent and with vincent's physical limitations on top of that, he was probably under pressure to perform "better" (behaviourally and artistically(?)) to "make up" for his appearance.

(@aggravatetheaxe made an excellent post about this which i cannot find rn but will link as soon as i do) bo is the king of masking. he takes on the demeanour and attitude of whoever he is speaking to in order to appear more approachable or "normal". the only person he doesn't do this with is vincent. vincent sees his really personality because, well, he knows him better than anyone else anyway.

*as i talk about their relationship into adulthood, i am following my timeline headcanon, which y'all can read here if it is of interest to you)*

early adulthood

i think vincent went to college, and i think bo was really, really cut up about it. of course, they don't spend every waking moment together anyway, bo went to elementary/middle school without vince and they fall out often enough and like everyone else they just want to do their own thing sometimes, but they've never been really apart before. vincent is moving out of ambrose and bo doesn't know what to do.

he feels bad that he isn't totally happy for vincent to go off and live his own life, but he feels abandoned. vincent is the one person he can always rely on. no. matter. what.

after their parents died and taking over the town

i think after their parents died (in whatever way you want to interpret this happening) they had a period of relief. they no longer had these, ultimately, abusive people in their lives. they enjoyed a sense of freedom of like, "oh, it really is just us now!"

when either of them are angry they'll will bring up the competitiveness of their childhood (bo calling vince a "freak" and vince acknowledging that their parents "loved him more"), but on the whole they work much better as a unit. two brains are better than one and all that.

and, long story short, i think the town was more or less abandoned due to it being essentially a "company town" and once the mill shut down, everyone moved out.

with everyone else jumping ship and the twins having no where else to go as they still tried to maintain the museum, they would have become more reclusive than ever. lester had long since moved out and with just the two of them, they become more attached than ever. they don't want to talk to other people, because it's too much effort. bo has a breakdown at some point after their parents die and vincent picks up the pieces. this is when they start the *murdering*, almost as a coping mechanism like "we can't trust other people", which then turns into, "you know how we were both kind of failures our entire lives, lets try and pull off this bat-shit plan and then we'll know that we could do it all along".

lester

lester was born as an attempt to re-do the whole "having kids" thing, but ultimately trudy and victor just, weren't good parents?

lester is at least 5 years younger than the twins, and it shows. bo and vincent had their twin bond long before lester came along and although they love lester, he just doesn't... understand them, not like they do each other.

it used to annoy him, knowing that bo and vincent had each other and "left him out" (especially considering their parents didn't pay that much attention to him) but over time he came to accept it begrudgingly. now he has his own life away from ambrose it's a lot easier. one thing that does still annoy him though is their godgoddamn twin talk. they tend to forget that he's their, or that he doesn't understand because they can and will have intense conversation s and then just walk away, leaving lester very much hanging.

lester is willing to help the twins out, he does a lot of luring of course, but he doesn't live in town. honestly part of it is that he's always been more independent and partly because when the twins are in a bad mood (either independently or because of each other) he just can't handle the atmosphere in town. it's safer to stay out of their ways when they're "out of sorts".

on the whole i think, lester gets on better with bo and vincent when he's with just one of them at a time. they're easier to talk to when they're alone because they don't get side tracked by something the other one is doing. bo tries to get them all to eat dinner together on a somewhat regular basis but it's a nightmare to organise and lester gets bored watching the twins discuss/bicker about something he isn't involved in (will literally be something about meaningless like vincent accidently taping over an specific episode of star trek that bo is attached to, or bo borrowed vincent's shoes and has not yet cleaned the mud off of them). either way, lester find it way easier to talk to them when it is 1-on-1.

general co-dependency

returning to my first point. bo needs vincent more than vincent needs bo.

bo is unstable and scared of leaving town. controversial opinion, i know. of course he leaves town (to get supplies, to go to a local bar, etc.) but leaving permanently? no, he could never. he relies on vincent -- his twin, the one person who will always stay with him when everyone else leaves -- to ground him. relies on him to give him the affection he needs.

that's not to say vincent doesn't need bo. he does, but not as much as bo needs him. vincent needs bo to make himself feel better. bo gives him purpose, and not in the way you might think. vincent knows bo is hopeless without him, he knows he needs to be there or bo is going to fall apart.

in the film we see bo get angry at vincent for leaving town without him. yeah, he is angry, but i think most of all he's upset. he's scared. he's just been shot with a crossbow and he comes home and while he's trying to fix himself up, vincent comes home and bo realises that while he was getting shot, vincent was out there on his own. he could have been hurt and then what would bo do?

one of bo's biggest fears is being on his own, and he's angry with vincent for leaving him. not for leaving town, for leaving him. bo doesn't feel he's good enough for anyone (that's why his parents abused him, or why he can't keep a significant other) but selfishly he thinks vincent doesn't have a choice. they were born together, they're stuck together (literally and metaphorically).

vincent, much like bo, has major self esteem issues. the love he got from his parents, although it's more than they gave bo, was conditional. so long as he was "good" (or, the opposite of bo) they would love him. if he kept doing well with the wax working, they would love him. if he covered his face, maybe other people would love him too. none of that happened.

he's selfish too. bo is the only one who's never put a condition on his love. the only one who has ever needed vincent for who he was and not for who he was pretending to be. he hates when bo makes comments about his face, but he can put up with it from him because bo needs him.

he puts up with it because he knows that bo sees them as more or less the same. sure, bo knows he "got the looks" while vincent "got the talent", but he seems them as one and the same. they were the same for a few months and when they were separated, there was a split in them. looks and talent and personality were distributed between them to the point where he thinks that together they might even make a whole person.

ultimately, they need each other to survive. through their early circumstances (and later by their own choices) they've been backed into a corner where they can't survive outside of the ghost town they call home. they both provide something the other so desperately needs that they won't be parted, even if it would be for the best and even when they know they're dragging each other down. they're in it together, forever.

[foxymoxynoona]

Hi, me again 😶

I appreciate the lengthy answer you gave my ask. (I obviously can't read the tone through text, but you didn't seem as annoyed as i thought you might be(?) so that's a lowkey win for me actually explaining why i sent the first ask(?) Lol)

Also yeah, no, i wasn't 'cockblocked'. Amended isn't a fic i go to for that kind of instant gratification :) Out of all four, it was the only one i actually wanted to read at first (only followed by TL, but not soon after) And it wasn't for the sex, I read the tags.

With that out of the way,

I tried thoroughly answering your answer (lol) but I kept running in circles and not being able to properly articulate what I'm thinking, so I'm just going to write a shorter version :)

I think it does eventually come down to what you said about Amended being intended more for readers who personally relate than for those who don't.

While I've obviously had certain negative life experiences, i doubt they can be seen as traumatic. Or if they can, they're nowhere near Isabella's level. I suppose i've also had different coping mechanisms than her so that's probably another one of the reasons I didn't think all of her reactions were justified. It's all a question of whether it made sense to me or not. Did jk's behavior look faultless to me? No. But I could understand jk's p.o.v more than hers, even if he was wrong in some of his assumptions and didn't voice them calmly. Sometimes I wish they could read each other's minds..

I did, however, understand the analogies you made and they did give me a better understanding of why she acts the way she does.

Honestly I was surprised there even was another sex scene in this chapter. Thought they'd talk about it properly before attempting again. But noPe :) I'm rather apprehensive about the date and how Jungkook's.. "plans" are going to go, considering everything..

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

I do appreciate you truthfully picturing the process of her overcoming parts of her past trauma and learning that it's okay to trust someone again. It's just quite difficult to grasp the depth and gravity of her trauma from an.. "outsider" 's perspective 😅

-👀

Hello again 👀!

First, I do want to apologize that my joke about being cockblocked sounds like it landed poorly. I had not read your initial comment as being very serious (since it just said you were annoyed with Isabella) so I responded in what I understand the tone to be. I'm sorry I misunderstood that initial ask!

Second of all, I'm not annoyed! I find and hope all these discussions are actually useful for anyone reading. Mental health is a big, huge aspect of life that I just feel like is so poorly represented or discussed. I have had serious anxiety all my life (without even knowing it! I thought that's just how everyone's brain worked!) but when I had my first major depressive episode, I remember after I was out of it being like: holy shit. I did not understand what depression was before this! Even now, it's hard for me to fully recall how utterly potato I was because it seems impossible that I was that way but I was! Our brains map the world and our place in it, and it can be challenging to get into the head of someone whose brain functions very differently than our own. So that's all to say, I think talking about these things is valuable to broaden our own understanding of ourselves and the people around us who navigate the world differently than we may.

One thing I think is worth pointing out in this story too that hasn't actually come up tonight: JK in this story also has trauma. And he also went through a period of deep pain that caused him to isolate himself and hurt the people around him badly. And his traumas still influence how he behaves. Isabella is his first "real" relationship. Remember how hurt Miranda was when he committed to her without committing to her?? And then didn't tell her he'd fucking gotten MARRIED? We just are seeing JK further along in his healing journey because he has been in a safe, loving, supportive place for far longer than Isabella has, and he always had family love and support, even at his worst (in high school when he really hurt Isabella). Isabella didn't have that. She has been alone and is now having to learn how to function without being in survival mode all the time. It may be worth everyone remembering that this isn't a story where JK stumbled into what is definitely a relationship with someone only starting to process intense trauma. He went into this eyes wide open, and with his own experience helping him understand the fear, and the loneliness. He's not actually a saint, he's just been through something similar and he understands (at least a little) and he loves her.

As for coping mechanisms, that's another good point: they're different for everyone and just like love languages, we can most easily understand behavior similar to our own. I love learning more about the way people work, and I hope my stories can help readers learn more beyond their own experiences or patterns as well, like how to recognize other love languages or coping or defense mechanisms.

Jimin actually called JK out on one of his this chapter: "you'll have sex with her before you love her because you're confident about sex." Is it worth thinking how different this story might be if Jungkook had been honest with Isabella at any point in their relationship about the love and guilt and regret he has from how he treated her when they were younger? Maybe not, but maybe!

And finally, as for sex: I had actually expected a lot of people to be upset about them having sex before they'd resolved more, haha. Because it's totally fair to theorize they jumped the gun getting physical! But they did it! Because they're horny for each other! It was a big step forward though before they were really ready to talk about some of the Big Feelings that might come up for either of them. They are a couple that tends to take a big leap and then scramble to figure out wtf they just did

Anyway, hope all this gives some more food for thought!

[darthkote]

Okay I know I'm breaking from the blog rn but I couldn't ignore this. I have been trying to confirm the theory that Jango is nd to myself for a hot minute! Just a really long tangent and some of the thoughts I haven't been able to articulate yet:

Jango clearly follows his own moral code, and he has a strong sense of justice... Oh, and don't get me started on him needing a clone of himself to feel whole, seen, validated... I do appreciate this idea of him being AuDHD bc impulse control is at zilch and he's always chasing novelty for that dopamine hit.. definitely gotta read more comics and books to see more of Jango but yeah, I do often think about how his neurodivergence would definitely impact the other Clones.

Nature and nurture both play a part; so despite the fact they all have the same genetic makeup, the environment in which they are raised will have an effect on how or if each clone will present traits of these neurodivergences... And yes, they were all raised and trained on Kamino, but their individuality (responses to certain stimuli, rejection, etc) will differ.

Immediately, my mind goes to Hardcase, who clearly has more difficulty controlling his impulses than many of his brothers. Because of Jango's genetic makeup, Hardcase was already predisposed to these traits. Something in his time as a cadet exacerbated his desire for dopamine, his spontaneous behavior... Maybe getting caught out while doing something he wasn't supposed to. He found that he enjoyed the rush, thus compelling him to continue chasing that feeling in other ways - speaking when not supposed to (imagine him whispering to his brothers in the middle of the night, long after they're all supposed to be asleep), going into places he shouldn't... Lots of self-gratification. Things like that.

Oh oh oh!!! And don't get me started on how the Kaminoans were definitely forcing the clones to mask and generally hide their divergences... Maybe that's why I fucking despise that mf Bric 🙂 Cutup... They tried to put his fire out and it makes me livid just thinking about it.

+ the Batch being less used to/expected to mask because of their purposeful "defects" - YES. They wear their personalities on their sleeves with no fear of repercussion because... Well, the Kaminoans find it serves a purpose. The other Clones, though? Fuck em. Which probably sends mixed signals to the regs - are they even really all that different from CF99, or are they just forced to hide the things that make them more themselves? ... (Ignoring their enhanced physical abilities..)

This also makes me understand more when there's a little tension between CF99 and the regs. They've been socialized so differently, and I'm sure the rest of the Clones feel a little on edge when they see a fellow Clone just.. being themself. Oh, and internalized ableism probably makes them see any signs of nd as "wrong" 😔 - ofc each reg will be different!! Some don't mask hardly at all, and they are a bit intrigued by CF99.

Think about Domino Squad. There would definitely have been an air of admiration there..

++ they almost got decommissioned on account of their not falling into line with what everyone else wanted - the Kaminoans, the Jedi, the bounty hunters, Sidious.... The real fucking issue there is that they weren't properly encouraged to just be themselves, embrace the differences of each squadmate, to believe they could function as a team. 99 told Hevy that he was the leader, to lean into the things that made him himself - and that this would encourage the others to do the same. If it weren't for a fellow CLONE (and a defective one at that) they'd have been neglected and turned into janitors - cleaning after their makers.

Anyway, the point is that the line between defective/reg is blurred when we see this squad.... The division is built by the Kaminoans, the Republic - the systems in which they exist.

And as I write this, I'm thinking about how the Clones - for some reason - were just.. Too Much for the rest of the galaxy to accept. I never knew why but.. their overwhelming neurodivergence probably made a lot of people uncomfortable. They didn't act the way people wanted, didn't conform.. many weren't sure whether or not to give them rights because they didn't act the way "normal" people would. Many struggled to see their humanity despite the fact they're some of the most genuine people.

I will definitely not stop talking about this. I find it sooo interesting, and I'll probably definitely headcanon some of the Clones to have OCD bc I need to feel validated through my special interest lmao + there's a very high comorbidity rate of ASD and OCD, so it's just logical that some would be plagued by rituals and obsessions. Fox'ika.... I'm looking right into your beautiful eyes.

The Clones, in my eyes, represent the spectrum itself. None are exactly the same. Some go together and have the same traits but.. they're all unique and blatantly individual. <3

Autism

[fairycosmos]

I have my finale exam tomorrow and I'm 99,9% sure that I'll fail. I feel like such a failure right now. I could retake the school year but why I understand the school work then, if I don't understand it now. I'll probably stay unemployed forever, because I'm so anxious at job interviews and I literally don't know how to talk to people. Maybe it'd be the best if I didn't exist because nothing would change if wasn't here anyway. I wouldn't be missed and I know I will never be happy anyway.

hey dude, listen. it sounds a bit like you’re spiraling right now and i really think it’d do you some good to just take a step back and breathe. i hope the test went okay, and by okay i hope i mean you got through it, because that’s literally all you can ask of yourself. it’s natural to be nervous about such things and if you’re also struggling with mental illness on top of that, it’s easy to get lost in the heaviness of that anxiety. making big unfounded assumptions about your future, feeling a sense of doom, thinking in black and whites instead of recognizing the nuance and middle ground - all of those are red flags, not reliable thought processes that you need to build your life around. it’s okay to process negative emotions, to be upset and to feel overwhelmed and to want to give up at at times. we all need to break down a little when we’re overwhelmed so we can let some of that pent up tension out. but that should look like allowing yourself to cry, reaching out to those around you, getting some rest, and removing yourself from situations that exacerbate the pain when possible. not harming yourself in hopes of dulling those emotions, because that’s how you get stuck in a cycle of self destruction that is more suffocating than just confronting the pain and trying to let it go. look, you’re young and life is generally a lot longer than it seems when you’re in school, in the sense that we learn how resilient we are over and over again. we’re supposed to ‘mess up.’ things go ‘wrong ’and then we carve our paths out of that, and we adapt. whether we realize it or not. you’ve done it before, and you can do it again. if it turns out you have to retake the school year, then with the extra time and maybe additional support from your teachers, the school work may become a little clearer if you give it the chance and try out new learning techniques to find what works for you. that doesn’t make you a failure at all. you clearly care a lot about your future, and you’ve already made so much more progress than you realize. i know it doesn’t seem like it in this moment. but seriously, whatever happens, after the initial disappointment and frustration, you WILL be able to return to a sense of normality. the extent of how much it hurts right now is not permanent. there’s truly no set time schedule for education, no matter how much they want to convince us otherwise. you just have to do what you can with what you’ve been given. that’s more than good enough. you’re more than good enough. and about job interviews - try to slow down. there’s absolutely no evidence that you will be unemployed forever, in fact it’s very unlikely, and your worth/future happiness doesn’t rely on that factor anyway. honestly, i’ve been to a few job interviews by now and i’ve always thought the same thing about myself. especially when i was in school, i thought i knew, that there was no way i could handle it, no way anyone would take me on. and they are uncomfortable and nerve wracking, sure. but they’re also not the beginning and end of the world. nobody is expecting you to be the worlds best talker especially when you’re new to the whole thing. it’s about showing your enthusiasm and your skillset, and if you dont believe you have one, you do. you just cant see it because you dont like yourself right now. i’ve been rejected from jobs too, and yeah it’s a dig at the self esteem, but it’s not a personal failure. it’s just the nature of applying for a position that loads of other people are also applying for. you learn to accept it. but you don’t even have to carry that weight yet, love. so try to recognize what your brain is doing by bombarding you with worries that are entirely out of your control, and that there is no actual proof of. more than anything, it’s important to remember that school nor your career defines everything that you are. we’re taught from a young age that we only deserve to be here if we’re ‘useful’ by capitalist standards, if we can justify the space we take up. but it’s a fucking lieeeeee. raising us like that is the only way to get us to work work work without questioning it too much. it’s got nothing to do with you and everything to do with the world being a soul sucking machine. so, relax. you deserve to be here and you deserve to be gentle with yourself, nothing changes that. not tests or the future or your self hatred. i know it’s hard to believe that such concepts apply to you, but they do. nothing and nobody would be better off without you, i promise. when you’re in a dark place it’s only normal to believe that you’ll never be happy, but it’s really not the case in reality. happiness is an emotion that comes and goes like all else, and it is entirely possible for it to become a consistent theme in your life. that is, if you’re able to make it through this part. if you’re able to try to engage in healthier coping mechanisms so that you see your situation from multiple perspectives, rather than just from a one dimensional ‘things will never get better’ stand point. even if you just have to survive hour by hour, until you get there.

i’d really recommend considering talking to someone about what’s happening in your head right now, man. i know that’s not what you want to hear and part of you will want to immediately write it off, but try to pause and keep it in the back of your mind. whether it’s a teacher, a parent/family member, a school counselor, a mental health hotline, a friend, your doctor - there are so many people out there who have the tools to help you learn to manage. and it doesn’t matter if the process is slow or non linear, or if you have to force the words out. all that matters is that you try. whatever that means to you, even if some days it’s just staying in your room and breathing through it. you can recognize that not wanting to be here any more is an unhealthy thought, indicating that there is a lot more going on beneath the surface, yeah? it’s alright to talk about that and to let others in. our mental health is often just as fragile as our physical health and sometimes it needs medical intervention in order to be adequately supported, and that’s totally fine.  yeah, opening up is embarrassing and yeah it’s not something anyone ‘wants’ to do, but it’s often very necessary, because it’ll allows people to be able to relate with and guide you. please consider your own needs and know that there is no shame in speaking up. even if you have to take some time to find the courage. honestly, you don’t even need to go into great detail. a simple ‘i need help and i’m not sure what to do’ is a great place to start with someone you trust, or someone who is in a position to help you. anyway, i’m sorry this got super long. navigating school is fuckin difficult at the best of times, and i’m infinitely proud of you for making it to this point and for being able to articulate your feelings like this to me. i have no doubt that you will be able to get through this if you give yourself the time and the tools do so. and i dont say that lightly at all. try to ground yourself for now, and start again tomorrow. if you want to talk about this properly or if you ever need a friend, my dms/inbox will be open. take care. focus on one day at a time.