#i taught myself how to make gifs so i could deliver this to the fandom mwah

[shaylogic]

Knightly Behaviour

The Cryland moments go by in seconds in this show, so it's my mission to track them down and savor them.

[jojikawa]

Mrs. Bucciarati | Bruno Bucciarati x Fem! Reader | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure

┊❥ Part 6 - Down Time

MASTERLIST

✧『Fandom』: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure

✧『Character』: Bruno Bucciarati

✧『Word Count』: 3,129 words 16,714 characters

✧『Summary』: The group kills time as they wait for Giorno and Mista to reach their destination.

The group quickly made its way back on the road to Venezia. Mista, Fugo, and Giorno were on the surface, driving the car while everyone else stayed inside to protect Trish as a second line of defense.

Inside the turtle, you had been sitting in between Narancia and Abbacchio. You had sat there first because Narancia wanted to show you something in the magazine he was reading but Abbacchio made it awkward by sitting next to you.

You had taken notice because previously, he was trying to avoid you.

Bruno was sitting on the other side of the table, his head tucked into the laptop that was used for communications. You wanted to talk but you felt like that would be distracting since he wanted to focus.

You didn’t know why but often, you would think of the first time the two of you met and the events that followed. You used to cringe at the memory of it but now that you were sure about your feelings towards him, it was wholesome.

One of your favorite memories with him was during a “charity” event your father held a few years ago. It wasn’t actually for anything charity-related.

Just another excuse to greet Italian capos. You hated it. You hated how corrupt your father was. He had a way of keeping investors while still doing dirty work.

Amongst them was Polpo from Passione in Italy and with him was a young Bruno Bucciarati. He was 17 at the time and you had just turned 16. Polpo agreed to take Bruno with him after much begging on his part. The boy just wanted to see you again.

That night, you were completely upset. Your father wanted you to sing since he and much of the staff agreed you had a nice singing voice. You were too nervous and honestly, you couldn’t even see yourself singing well at all. This upset him and he made you stay by him all night.

The ball was boring until Bruno had arrived. He found you quickly and wanted to talk. He figured that you were being held hostage by your father and wanted to help.

When we walked over, he cleared his throat. “Excuse me.” He said, grabbing your father’s attention. Your father had been speaking to a popular district attorney.

“It’s an honor to have been invited here, Mr. (l/n).” Bruno bowed, trying to seem as gentlemanly as possible.

Your father finished up his conversation before nodding the attorney away and taking a sip of his drink. “Oh, Bruno Bucciarati. I didn’t know Polpo was bringing you. I’m sure I only sent out one invitation.” Your father joked, even laughing when no one found it funny.

You just tried to tune him out, fiddling with your dress that was the same color as your father’s tuxedo.

Bruno humored him, laughing as well. “Well, you see, I couldn’t pass up the chance of hearing (y/n) sing so I had Polpo make room for one more.” His eyes lingered over to you. Bruno seemed so friendly and soft but he was tall for his age and it was almost intimidating…

You looked away, blushing after seeing the innocent twinkle in his eyes when he saw you were all dressed up. Normally, you were wearing loungewear since you were always inside. You looked so stunning!

“That’s too bad because little (y/n) over here decided that she didn’t want to help me pull any investors and she’s not singing at all tonight.” Your father lazily waved his hand in your direction, sipping more of his wine.

“I don’t believe I can sing. I’ve never had any lessons.” You spoke up for the first time. Your father narrowed his eyes at you. “Then after tonight, we’re getting you some.”

You sighed, looking away from your father and off to the side. This was so awkward… you wanted to leave.

Bruno saw what was unfolding and intervened before things could escalate.

“There’s nothing to worry about, Mr. (l/n). I’m sure (y/n) has an amazing voice. She’s just shy and there’s nothing wrong with that. Perhaps, I can help her build her confidence.” He offered his hand to you. You just stared at it.

Your father sighed. “I suppose so. I trust you, Bruno.”

Your father then let you spend the night with him and it was a lot better than just standing around.

All night, Bruno had been such a gentleman and even slow danced with you when no one was watching. You weren't very good and neither was he but you still found it enjoyable.

You had been reminiscing about the past when your thoughts were interrupted by Bruno who had been speaking to Abbacchio.

Bruno had gotten a message on the laptop asking Abbacchio to use his stand to reveal a message that was left behind.

Everyone had gathered around and you got up to look too.

Abbacchio decided to go back 15 hours. The person Moody Blues took the shape off was of the older man you had seen when you all first picked up Trish.

He explained more instructions for the team to follow. You felt so out of place. Everything about this was so bizarre. The moment you get to be with Bruno, you get wrapped up in some elaborate plan. You haven’t sat down with him since you arrived.

When you came to, you saw the image of Mr. Pericolo with a gun to his head. You had only zoned out for a moment! What happened?

Pericolo explained that because of his influence, the enemy knows that he’s helping Bruno deliver Trish. He isn’t a stand user so he doesn’t know how he could defend himself.

His only escape was killing himself before they got to him. It was tragic but these are things you sign up for in Passione.

He pulled the trigger and you saw red before Bruno hugged you to his chest and turned around to block the image of what you almost saw.

You tried to resist but he only held you tighter until the image of it was gone.

“Oh my god!!” You heard Narancia yell.

Trish and Abbacchio were speechless. You had wished that Bruno could’ve used his energy to protect the eyes of one of the children, especially Trish, but it was over now.

You wanted to cry but you were in so much shock. You felt like after everything was over, you would need some kind of therapy. It’s only been a few days and you’ve endured so much trauma. You were just a human.

“Bruno…” you tried to loosen his grip. “…let go.”

He squeezed you again when you had said his name but then without a word, he let go of you. He stood up to talk but his eyes were darkened and he was visibly sweating.

“Mr. Pericolo.”

You were dazed for a moment by his behavior but then you looked over at Trish who must have been traumatized.

You walked over and grabbed her hand. “I’m sorry that you had to see that. Are you okay?” You asked, sweetly. Her eyes darted over to you. She was shaking and sweating as well. It hurt you that she had to deal with all of this at such a young age.

“M-mhm.” She nodded and gave your hand a tight squeeze. “It’s going to be okay.” You told her.

You then realize that you would have to comfort Narancia, Fugo, and Giorno, as well. Being a mother figure wasn’t easy. You felt so obligated to be there for all of them but it was impossible.

You didn’t know how helpful Bruno was towards the younger members but you could only hope he took their mental health into account.

Before you could ask everyone about how they felt, Bruno had sent Mista and Giorno to drive while the rest of you stayed inside the turtle.

You couldn’t figure out why Bruno kept sheltering you. He wanted you by his side or inside the turtle at all times. You wanted to be able to help him protect everyone. You were tired of him acting like he could do everything on his own.

It was hard trying to get a good word in since everyone was in such close proximity. To everyone else, the way you and Bruno interacted was similar to parents. All of the kids had prominent parental issues so the two of you served as a support system when they needed it.

You were sitting next to Trish and you were unsure if you should give her space or make yourself available to speak to. You thought that maybe you should use this time to talk to Bruno but Trish had actually spoken first.

“Mrs. Bucciarati, what was your life like before you came here?” Her voice was pretty monotone as always but you could tell she was sad.

“My life? Well, I was pretty much a homebody. I just tended to my garden and practiced Italian.” You answered.

“Practicing Italian? Why?” She looked at you before realizing you weren’t a native Italian. It’s probably why your dialect sounded a bit different than most. You had a more formal way of speaking compared to the others.

“I’m from America and I know Bruno because I’m the daughter of a boss as well.” You explained with a smile. She didn’t reply to you. She just stared at you with her mouth opened a small bit. Maybe she could finally relate to someone.

You then turned your attention to Bruno who had been using the laptop. You were so worried about the boys. It didn’t feel right for you to send Mista and Giorno out on their own.

“Bruno.” You got up from your spot with Trish and went over to Bruno. You didn’t want to create a scene, so just in case things escalated, you spoke in English.

“I know you have faith in the boys, but is it really wise to send them out on their own? I could’ve gone with them.” You said down next to him, not really interested in what he was doing enough to look.

He just hummed before saying. “I don’t want you to be separated from me anymore. The last two times we got separated, you were hurt and every time we’ve been attacked, you were hurt.”

You huffed. “But you told me you were proud of me. You still don’t believe I can handle myself?”

“Cara mia, I know you can handle yourself but I just can’t have you hurt anymore. You were only taught to fight to a certain extent. If either of us makes a mistake then you could be killed.” His voice was firm. He’s never spoken to you in this tone before and it almost embarrassed you.

“But we have made mistakes. We both have. I’ve done my part in helping. I just still haven’t proven myself to you.” You turned away from him, upset that he was babying you and belittling the training you went through just for him.

Bruno look over at you who had been completely facing the other way. He reached over to your shoulder but you lightly jerked it away.

Why couldn’t you just understand that he was trying to protect you? Was it really wise to promise Giorno this ridiculous plan? Your first impression of Italy has just been filled with bloodshed. Although, if he didn’t then he never would have been Capo.

How long would it have taken him to reach the status of Capo normally?

Bruno pushed those thoughts out of his head. Maybe he was smothering you a little. It was just so hard not seeing you as a delicate flower anymore. He wished that he could’ve seen you more.

As an attempt to show affection, he reached out to your hand that has been free and resting on the sofa. The tips of his fingers brushed yours lightly but you had quickly curled them up, hiding them in a fist.

You didn’t seem to want to hold hands either.

Across the room, Fugo and Narancia were pondering on what you two could’ve been talking about. They didn’t know much English either. It was easy for the others to pay so much attention to you because of how new you were to them.

“Hey, Fugo, you know some English right? What do you think they’re talking about?” Narancia asked. “I’ve never seen Bucciarati so soft!” He hoarsely whispered into his ear.

Fugo, who was trying to rest his eyes, was getting annoyed at the boy. “No, Narancia, I don’t know what they’re saying. I’m not going to violate their privacy either. If it were meant for us to hear, then they wouldn’t have changed languages in the first place.” He explained. This made Narancia frown and retract himself.

You figured that maybe you should talk to Abbacchio for advice. You went over to the purple schemed man and Bruno’s eyes followed you curiously.

He watched as you talked to Leone with confidence and not anything at all like he expected. At first, when you first met them in Naples, he could sense your fear for that man but now you didn’t seem like you were at all.

“Leone,” You sighed and his head snapped over to you. You jumped at his reaction. “A-Abbacchio, I mean, sorry.” You raised your hands in defense and began to sweat. His neutral expression didn’t change. Deep down he didn’t mind your voice saying his name.

“As Bruno always called the shots this way? Sending the children out?” You asked softly.

This annoyed Abbacchio but still, his expression didn’t change. Of course, you would want to talk to him about Bruno of all people. Since you’ve been here, it’s just been about you and him and can’t even last 2 minutes apart when you’re just a foot away from him.

He knew that the only reason he felt this way was that he was jealous. He was probably just jealous of Bucciarati the whole time. What would it take for him to get a woman like you?

“Yeah. Always been that way.” He replied. “They know that they’re doing. Nothing new.”

A small gasp left your mouth. Everyone seemed so uncaring of the safety of the boys. But this didn’t have to mean the end.

You just had to be strong enough to protect them yourself. “I see.” That was all you had said. You didn’t care if it didn't seem like Bruno had faith in you or that there were so many children or how nonchalant Leone was about it. You had a stand too and you knew how to use it.

“Th-That’s all.” You smiled nervously before giving the man his space. You scooted further away, not wanting to move around too much and irritate everyone.

When you looked up, you saw that Bruno was just staring at you, watching. He looked upset but not angry. You wanted to comfort him but you were still upset with him. You’ve worked so hard and it’s like it doesn’t even matter to him.

For some hours, you occupied yourself with a magazine. You tested yourself by reading Italian fashion articles and keeping notes of things you wanted to buy with Bruno’s money. You made sure to bookmark pages with nice shoes and dresses you’d like to try on.

Your actions were interrupted by feeling a portion of the couch next to you sink. You looked to your left to see it was Bruno with the computer resting on his lap. He didn’t say a word and only shifted his weight so that his thigh was touching your exposed one.

This made you blush, so hard that physically acknowledged that he had done this when his goal was to be smooth with it.

“B-Bruno-” You whispered. Bruno ignored you, resting a free hand on the thigh closest to him. He leaned over, so close that the message you got was that he was trying to kiss you.

Really? In front of everyone? What’s gotten into him?

“Are you upset with me?” He whispered into your ear.

Your face heated up. You would feel his breath hitting your ear.

“N-No.” You replied, turning your head to him.

His eyes were narrowed and his face frowned. He leaned in further but he didn’t kiss you. He…licked your face?!

You yelped, breaking contact with him. What the hell was that!?

“To me, it seems like you’re lying.”

“Huh? Is this that lie detection thing you told me about? I thought that was a joke…” You wiped the faint sign of saliva on your face. “Warn me next time, okay?”

He chuckled before kissing you softly. “I thought it would cheer you up.” He said in between breaths.

You kissed back tenderly, your cheeks burning at his actions. Was this a dream?

Your minor make-out session was cut short when Narancia had brought you both back to reality.

Butterflies grew inside of you as you covered your face and turned away. You were always such a shy and delicate flower and now he knew that he could tease you with a public display of affection.

Narancia had been volunteering to be the one to go out to be on the surface so that he could use Aureo Smith to find Mista and Giorno.

You parted from Bruno, enjoying the remaining time just leaning against him. His body was warm and his cologne was faint with a hint of sweat from all the intense fighting.

You were an odd couple but the love was undeniable.

Mista and Giorno were found. Mista had sustained a lot of injuries, which the blonde male healed with his stand.

You played your role and scolded Mista at his lack of awareness to which he replied by calling you “Mom.”

“You should be more careful. You can’t always expect your wounds to be fixed. Giorno can’t help you forever!” You tapped his forehead aggressively.

“Hey, Hey! Yeah, I get it, okay, mom?” He swatted your hand away. This made you giggle.

“Mom? Where’d that come from?” You asked, chuckling to yourself.

“ ‘Cause, you’re annoying like one.” He yelled at you with faint pink dust on his cheeks.

You were the first female figure in his life that worried about him the way you did. It was very easy for them to get attached to you since they were all from broken homes.

It has only been a few days but with Bruno’s tough love and your soft and gentle nature, you two were scaffolding for what having parents was like. Minus the killing of the mafioso members pursuing you, of course.

It was unfortunate that such a cute “family” would come to an end.

[littlemisspascal]

The Last Mandalorian

Chapter One: The Warrior in Carbonite Part 2

Fandom: The Mandalorian / Pedro Pascal

Eventual Pairing: Din x Togruta!Female!Reader

Word Count: 3,400

Rating: G

Summary: A series that is a mixture of Mandalorian, Star Wars, ATLA, and my own imagination. The Imps have seized control of the majority of the galaxy, including your homeworld Shili. You and your sister Ahsoka have developed a daily routine despite the stormtroopers keeping your village imprisoned. One morning you make a startling discovery that will change the course of your lives forever.

Warnings: plot plot plot, mild descriptions of violence, worldbuilding, dialogue heavy, sloooooooooooooow burn – seriously, we’re just getting started so it’s gonna be a bit before feelings are involved, reader is 17 and Din is 19 so I’m going to warn this as underage even though nothing sexual or even vaguely romantic happens in this chapter.

Author Note: The plan right now is for there to be 3 parts of Chapter 1. Tumblr isn’t doing a good job notifying my taglist, so I apologize if I bother anyone reblogging this a few times trying to get it to work. Thank you everyone out there for each like, comment, ask and reblog! The support means the world to me 🥰

Part 1 Part 3

Cross-posted on AO3

The village is a small community with less than a hundred citizens living there total, yet it is visible from miles away due to the bright paints used to decorate the houses. Murals depicting the village’s history and its residents adorn every house with details added by each new generation so that no one is ever forgotten. Back when visitors would pass through, they would always compliment the village’s beauty, but there is nothing beautiful at all about the electric fence the Imps erected shortly after seizing control, emitting shocks harsh enough to kill.

Originally the stormtroopers said it was to protect the village from threats, but nobody believed the lie. The only threat to the community was the Empire. They don’t bother making up excuses anymore, now they like to remind everyone the whole village is their prisoner, usually by a show of violence so unbelievably malicious it stuns everyone into compliance.

There are some horrors time will never erase from your mind.

Juni trees grow beside the fence outside the perimeter, the only species of tree amongst the shrubbery and turu-grass, and they are tall enough for their thick orange branches to extend over the uppermost wire. In the mornings, Ahsoka climbs out your bedroom window, slides down the sloped roof of the house and leaps onto a nearby branch. You follow after her, trusting that she won’t let you fall when you stretch out your hand for her to catch you and lift you up using a bit of Force to give you a boost. The two of you sneak back inside the village using the same tree, only instead of leaping at the house, you drop the short fall onto the ground beneath. Five years and the stormtroopers haven’t caught onto your trick yet. 

Except now the tree isn’t an option. Not when you both are half-carrying, half-dragging two-hundred pounds of flesh and metal. 

Hiding behind a clump of coyal bushes, you and Ahsoka scout the entrance booth where a pair of stormtroopers dressed in their characteristic white armor stand guard, holding blaster rifles. There are others on patrol, walking along the fence and checking its integrity, gradually stepping further and further out of view, but they will be back eventually. Your window of opportunity is limited. 

You adjust the warrior’s arm over your shoulders, quietly groaning when your muscles protest the heaviness. “What are we going to do? Stormies might share one brain cell, but they’re definitely going to notice this heap of metal we’re carrying. And as soon as they find out we don’t have passes, they’re going to start shooting.”

Passes are only given to a handful of the community’s traders each week. It is a three day ride on a repulsorlift speeder to the capital where they have a short span of time to sell their goods and then return home within the week with essential supplies. To ensure no one tries to run away, the Imps set up strict rules. If the traders are late, even if only by a few minutes or due to reasons outside their control, the rest of the villagers pay the price. Usually the punishment is a public beating, but sometimes the stormtroopers get creative and tie their chosen victims to a pole overnight by their head-tails. 

Nobody, not even the younglings, sleep those nights.

“We’ll be fine,” Ahsoka answers, firm and confident, gaze fixed upon the gate. “Just follow my lead. I’ve got an idea.”

She doesn’t spare you a second to protest, stepping out into the open and forcing you to follow or else drop the warrior’s body. 

The stormtroopers spot the three of you immediately, relaxed postures stiffening with alarm, and you have to remind yourself over and over to breathe, to not let them see any hint of the anxiety buzzing beneath your skin.

“Hold it right there!” One of the stormtroopers orders when the distance between you and them has shortened to a mere three feet. You freeze at once, heart pounding as fast as a thimiar’s seconds away from being eaten. A quick glance at Ahsoka reveals no fear in her expression. She stares at them indifferently, as if she is about to talk about the weather. 

“Explain yourselves.” It is not a request.

You squirm, nearly knocking your head against the warrior’s bowed head, on the verge of losing your composure, when you notice Ahsoka lifting her arm.

“You will let us pass,” she says, adopting a suggestive tone while waving her hand in front of their visors.

They respond in unison, seemingly entranced. “We will let you pass.”

You bite your lip as you and Ahsoka pass between the stormtroopers and through the gate, not wanting to break the spell by letting loose the barrage of questions forming on your tongue. What your sister had done was as amazing as it was frightening. She had manipulated them with such confident ease you are certain this isn’t the first time she has performed the trick on someone. 

“When did Aunt Shaak teach you that?” 

“She didn’t,” Ahsoka replies lowly, casting a quick glance around. “I taught myself.”

Your skin prickles as you also become aware of the increasing number of eyes staring at you. With the sun fully awake and bringing morning light with it, several villagers are carrying on with their daily routines outside of their homes. Most of them seem a mixture of confused and concerned about the stranger, but you spy the Elders looking displeased by the new addition amongst their ranks. 

You are not looking forward to being inevitably summoned and interrogated by them.

“How?” you ask, copying her hushed cadence. Then, a pulse of panic blooms in your chest. “Have you ever—?”

“No, I haven’t messed with your mind before. Never even considered it,” Ahsoka interrupts, sensing your worries. “I don’t practice often, but when I do it’s just harmless little suggestions. Like convincing Huno to give the younglings an extra sugar biscuit when he has some to spare or persuading Jaelee to go to bed early when I know she’s been overworking herself. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t really sure the trick would work on those bucket heads since I’ve never tried it on two minds at once before. Lucky us, right?”

You nearly trip over your own feet. “What?”

Is she being serious right now? They would be dead right now if her gamble hadn’t paid off.

Ahsoka pretends not to hear you, nodding her head towards the blue-painted house up ahead. “C’mon, Maar probably already knows we’re coming.”

Maar Vashee has been the village’s healer for a little over fifty years. The purple-skinned Togruta helped deliver you and Ahsoka, and was considered by your mother when she was still living to be a dear friend. Her connection to the Force is especially sensitive due to her intricate relationship with the flora of the planet, using various herbs and plants to create remedies, and as such she developed a type of sixth sense where she instinctively knows when her skills are needed.

Entering her home that doubles as her clinic, you find Maar had indeed anticipated your arrival and set up a cot to place the warrior upon. Once he is laid down, you roll your aching shoulders, biting back a wince as the movement irritates the headache lingering at the back of your head. 

The warrior hadn’t made one noise the entirety of the trip bringing him here. Even now as he rests on the cot, his breaths are so quiet you would fear he wasn’t breathing at all if not for his chest moving. You touch his hand impulsively, laying yours over his gloved one. There is no response, not a twitch or spasm.

A sharp gasp of surprise has you whirling around, eyes landing upon Maar standing in the doorway between the clinic and her living quarters. She clutches a glass jar of spotted red herbs labeled nysillin against her chest, staring at the warrior like she is looking at a ghost. 

“Maar,” Ahsoka calls out softly, coming to stand by your side. A long moment of silence passes before the older Togruta manages to drag her gaze away to focus on you and Ahsoka, green eyes a bit too wide-eyed and haunted. Your sister’s gentle tone remains when she inquires, “What’s wrong? Do you...do you know him?”

Maar chokes out a brittle noise sounding like a cross between a dry laugh and a derisive scoff. “Personally? No.” She moves closer to the cot, the white circular markings around her eyes softening with what you confusingly identify as sympathy. “I’ve heard stories of his kind though. Years ago, many considered the Mandalorians the only ones capable of defeating the Imperials.”

“Holy frak,” you gasp before you can stop yourself.

As a youngling, your mother used to tell you stories about the fiercest fighters in the galaxy known as Mandalorians. They lived on Mandalore and had a special connection with their weapons, a bond nobody else could understand or mimic, trained to handle guns and knives as soon as they could walk. They defended the galaxy from unlawful rulers and the threat of enslavement, unafraid to spill blood when they knew peace would follow. Your mother told you they never lost a battle. Defeat was a word unknown to them.

At least until—

“Mandalorians were wiped out during the Decimation of Alderaan,” Ahsoka interrupts your thoughts, voice pitched high with disbelief. “And the few who lived were hunted down shortly after. The Imps made sure there weren’t any left to challenge them.”

As if triggered, you recall a detail from your brain glitch, a thought that had crossed your mind when you were flying through the storm. You had been looking for Aldera, the capital of Alderaan. 

It’s just a coincidence, you think. But a voice in the back of your head that sounds suspiciously like your Aunt Shaak counters, there are no coincidences. 

And as much as you loathe admitting it, that voice is right. Having the image of a mudhorn slip into your brain shortly before you find a warrior—no, a karking Mandalorian of all people—with the same creature on his armor? It is too precise to be a coincidence. Your paths were meant to cross each other.

If only you had the slightest clue as to why.

Maar sets the jar down on a nearby table, then picks up the Mandalorian’s wrist to check his pulse. “That is what we all thought,” she agrees after a minute of counting has passed, dropping his hand. “His armor is characteristic of their kind. Nothing in the galaxy is as strong or valuable as their beskar. Let’s pray to Ai our beliefs about the Mandalorians’ extinction are mistaken,” she nods towards the unconscious warrior, “especially for his sake.”

Realization creates a sickening pit in your stomach. 

Regardless of the status of his kind, when he wakes up his whole world is going to be flipped upside down.

__

Three hours later, not much has changed except the room is brighter, afternoon sunlight pouring in through the window, and smells sweet due to the bowl of herbs Maar left simmering on the table near the Mandalorian’s head, explaining the aroma will cure him of his hibernation sickness as he breathes it in.

“He’ll wake up when the marg sabls open tomorrow,” Maar told you with a gesture towards the potted red-and-pink flowers in the windowsill. They grow all over Shili, popular because they open their petals in a sunburst shape every morning. 

Ahsoka comes and goes, blessedly not criticizing your decision to sit at the warrior’s bedside when you have a list of chores to complete—doubled now that you lost your bet with Ahsoka earlier. She intercepts curious younglings hoping to sneak a glimpse of the Mandalorian whose presence has become known throughout the village. Nothing stays a secret long in the community. Gossip spreads as quickly as colds and takes twice as long to get over. 

If the stormtroopers catch on, the consequences will be disastrous. For once, Ahsoka shares your fears, admitting she isn’t capable of tricking a whole platoon. 

“The Elders aren’t happy,” Ahsoka says in-between sips of bone broth. “They think it’s too dangerous having him here.”

You swallow your mouthful, shaking your head. “I think it’s the opposite.”

“What do you mean?”

Averting your gaze towards your lap, you scratch at an imaginary stain on your leggings. “Just a feeling I have.”

Ahsoka leans forward in her seat, pointing an accusing finger at you, causing your head to jerk back up. “The Force connected with you again, didn’t it? I knew you were acting weird before we found him.” She frowns, hurt flickering in her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I never wanted to be special, Ahsoka,” you reply honestly. “I never wished or prayed to have visions, to have these random details pop into my head, to feel others’ emotions so strongly it’s like I’m trapped inside their bodies. There is nothing cool or entertaining about it. It’s…” Your voice cracks embarrassingly, forcing you to take a pause. You inhale a shaky breath. “It’s terrifying.”

“I had no idea you were struggling so much,” your sister murmurs, voice soft with contrition.

“How could you when I didn’t even want myself to acknowledge that I was?” you counter, feeling as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders as the truth sinks in. “I tried to ignore it all as best as I could. If not for meeting our friend over here,” you tilt your head in the Mandalorian’s direction, “I’d probably still be in denial. But I can’t ignore the Force this time. Not when the message is this important.”

“What is it?”

“We were meant to find him. To bring him back with us. I think—I believe he’s important. Remember what Maar said? About how people used to believe Mandalorians would beat the Empire?”

Ahsoka’s brow furrows incredulously. “You really think one warrior can defeat Emperor Gideon’s army? The rebels have been trying for years and the Emperor is always one step ahead.”

You can’t help deflating a bit, shoulders slumping. “Well when you put it like that…”

“Have you considered an alternative reason why he’s important?” she asks. When you don’t answer right away, she takes it as a cue to continue, “Maybe you’re right and he is going to change the galaxy for the better. But he could also be a warning. The Imps wiped out his kind, what if they plan to do the same to us?”

Your lips part to respond, only to close again wordlessly. You thought by accepting your brain glitches as messages from the Force they would become clearer, easier to understand. A lantern guiding you through this maze of darkness epitomizing your life.

But you have never felt more lost.

__

Falling asleep is a mistake. 

You didn’t know this when you rejected Maar’s suggestion to head home and sleep in your comfortable bed instead of curling up on her spare cot that squeaks whenever you move. The prideful side of you believed it was best if you were the first face the Mandalorian saw when he woke up because he would remember you and the promise you swore. He would trust you to explain everything to him.

Within a second of waking up, you realize how naive you were to think you had even a shred of influence over him. 

The sound of something shattering has you nearly tumbling off the side of the cot, jerking awake with a sudden burst of fear. You blink rapidly to clear the haziness of sleep from your vision, struggling to make sense of what you are seeing.

Pieces of Maar’s ceramic bowl litter the floor along with bits of charcoal and ash. Ahsoka and the Mandalorian stand on opposite sides of the room, staring each other down, poised to fight. The Mandalorian has a vibroblade clenched in his hand, while your sister crouches low, fists raised. You know Ahsoka can hold her own in a fight, even without the advantage of a weapon, but fear winds its way down your spine, cold and slimy, when you can’t help but notice how small she looks compared to him. Not only because he is a few inches taller, but because he also exudes an undeniable aura of intimidation: his unwavering silence, the skilled manner he wields his knife, even the sharp gleam of his beskar pieces reflecting the pale morning light has your chest tightening with dread.

The clinic’s lights flick on right as Maar announces her presence by cocking a blaster pistol. It is the Mandalorian’s own weapon, removed from his holster when Maar examined him earlier. “Alright,” she says to the room at large as she fully enters, dressed in her sleeping robe. “Let’s all settle down. Blood isn’t an easy stain to clean and I’d prefer it if none was spilt.”

You see the moment the Mandalorian decides to comply, shoulders loosening beneath the pauldrons and stance shifting from defensive to neutral, as he processes he doesn’t need to fight his way out of here. The vibroblade is sheathed within his right boot in one fluid motion and it is startling, truly, how quick he transforms from a dangerous threat to a potentially dangerous threat. 

Ahsoka is reluctant to yield, staring him up and down for a drawn out moment that does little to soothe your frayed nerves. Only when Maar pointedly clears her throat does your sister finally obey, straightening to full height with a hand propped on her hip, the picture perfect image of nonchalance. In another life she would have made a fantastic actress in a holovid drama.

“That’s better.” Maar nods, satisfied. “Now why don’t we—”

The Mandalorian moves so quickly that you jerk in anticipation of attack, eyes widening to the size of moons as you watch the pistol fly out of Maar’s hand and straight into his outstretched one. Your lungs seize up, a single thought flashing through your mind. This is it, the moment we all die. 

Except instead of shooting, he re-engages the safety mechanism and promptly holsters the gun at his side where it belonged. Without saying anything.

Ahsoka’s slack-jawed expression would have been comical if it hadn’t matched your own stunned face. Even Maar, who has witnessed over fifty years worth of shocking spectacles, looks awed by the unexpected display. 

You recover first, somehow managing to piece together the right words to ask a coherent question. “Are you a Jedi?”

It is only because you are staring directly at him that you notice the virtually imperceptible tilting of his head. “I’m a Mandalorian,” he answers bluntly, oblivious to how your heart skips a beat. “Weapons are part of my religion. It’s important to earn their trust.” He addresses Maar then, adding, “Especially if they’re stolen from us.”

His baritone voice has changed from when he spoke on the ship. Without the exhaustion wrapped around his vocal chords you are able to hear his normal timbre. Due to the modulator in his helmet, it has a husky quality, an intriguing mix of smoke and honey. But that is not what has your montrals prickling and your spine straightening. 

“I disarm all my patients,” Maar replies, back to being her cool, calm, and collected self. “I would have given it back—”

“How old are you?” 

You don’t realize you have spoken until two pairs of eyes and an expressionless visor look at you. 

The Mandalorian’s fingers curl and uncurl at his sides once, twice. “Nineteen,” he answers after a few seconds of lapsing silence.

“Oh Ai,” Maar murmurs, vocalizing your own thoughts.

All this time you have been thinking of the Mandalorian as a man beneath the amor. A hardened and seasoned fighter who has seen a lifetime of bloodshed and violence. But the reality is he is only two years older than you. Standing right on that thin, blurry line between being seen as a teenager and being considered an adult. 

“Who are you?” the Mandalorian asks, glancing first at you then your sister and back to Maar. Frustration and wariness blend together, sharpening his voice. “Why am I here? What happened?”

Ahsoka meets your eye with a question in her gaze, one you don’t have the answer for: where do we even begin?

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[puddygeeks]

Wᴇ Cᴏᴍᴇ Rᴜɴɴɪɴɢ - Tʜᴇ 100 Bᴇʟʟᴀᴍʏ x OC - Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 52: Dᴏᴘᴘᴇʟɢᴀɴɢᴇʀ

Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Summary: During her time in the Skybox, Indigo formed a precious friendship with fellow outcast Octavia Blake, the girl under the floor. At first they thought their departure from the oppression of the Ark was a blessing, but quickly came to rely on Indigo's keen survival instincts. The 100 struggle to meet the challenges of Earth whilst Bellamy strives to lead the wavering teenagers and his irresponsible attitude fuels constant conflict with Indigo. Their only shared interest is in protecting Octavia and Indigo beings to suspect that there is a deeper cause to Bellamy's seemingly irrational choices. As the consequences of his actions mount up around him, he finally begins to confide in her and she discovers more than she ever bargained for.

Fandom: CW’s The 100

Pairing: OC x Bellamy Blake

LONG TERM ONGOING PROJECT :)

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

Warnings: Mature content. Non-consent, language, sex, self harm, suicide, anxiety, helplessness, torture, captivity/confinement, alcohol/drug use.

Chapter Fifty-Two

After following Indra in tense silence for a while, we slowed to a halt and she instructed us to tie our horses nearby a remarkable set of ruins. It was difficult not to be distracted by the looming shapes of the structure and I was aware of how little we knew of Earth compared to the grounders who had built their home here for generations. Despite the nerves building in my stomach, I continued to walk alongside Octavia into the unknown and tried not to allow myself to be distracted by the theories whizzing around in my mind. Indra silently lit a fire and we waited expectantly until she took a seat and I glanced over at Octavia with confusion.

“Who is this woman, Indra?” She enquired as she stepped closer to her mentor with curiosity filling her face and Indra glanced up at her with an unimpressed expression.

“She is a warrior and a friend. She is also your best chance at getting what you want. That is all you need to know.” She responded with a firm tone and Octavia shifted awkwardly on the spot at the firm response. Indra sighed and considered us both for a few moments, before she seemed to decide that she could trust us with some further details. “She was a village leader, like me, until her people were massacred and only she remained. Since then, she has lived alone and accepts tasks from the Commander when she is called upon to serve. As I recommended her for this role, I deliver the assignments and so she will come when I signal.” She elaborated in a bored tone and I felt myself growing tense as I processed this information.

“What makes you think she will help us?” Octavia probed and I felt nervous on her behalf as she continued to press at Indra. I noticed that despite what she had taught me, she mostly ignored the rule to not ask questions and wondered if their time together had allowed them to develop a strong enough relationship for Indra to view her as an equal.

“She does not consider herself part of any clan and cares not for our politics. She serves the Commander for her own reasons, but she has no investment in our distrust of Skaikru. You may be able to use her disinterest in our war to your advantage.” She explained in a tone that conveyed her annoyance at Octavia’s continued questioning, before she turned to inspect me with an assessing eye again. “Your friend resembles her only child. She died in the massacre. I believe this is no coincidence.” She added and I blanched at the information. I shot a panicked glance at Octavia, who seemed equally stunned at this idea, but before I could get any words out we were startled by a sharp voice.

“Who have you brought to me, Indra?” A woman stood at the edge of the ruins, just out of the firelight where it was impossible to discern more than a silhouette and Indra rushed to her feet to greet her. I remained rooted to the spot as I worked to calm the frazzled nerves that her arrival had caused and strained in an attempt to identify any of her features.

“These are allies, Octavia and Indigo Kom Skaikru.” She explained in an even tone and the woman turned toward us with an expression that was unclear in the dark. Though I couldn’t see her face, I could sense her disbelief and began to feel uncomfortable with this plan.

“You would bring Skaikru to this place?” She asked in a cold voice that displayed her suspicion and Indra clenched her jaw defensively. Although she had earlier stated that she considered this woman a friend, they seemed strangely stiff and I began to wonder if this was ordinary grounder behaviour. Until now, I had always imagined that they were warmer in their own relationships, outside of the impending threat of war but it seemed that formality was more deeply ingrained in their culture that I had first believed.

“Octavia trained as my second and has earned my trust. She would not betray it.” Indra stated firmly and I could sense that Octavia was pleased to hear this. “This girl seeks to be taught our ways. I cannot teach her in Polis whilst the Commander still battles to defend the ceasefire. I present her to you for judgement.” She revealed with a flourish before stepping back to allow the woman to assess me.

The stranger strolled slowly toward the campfire and as the light revealed her features, I felt myself take a sharp intake of breath. I recognised her immediately, but had long since forgotten about her existence due to all of the insanity that had occurred since. I recalled my brief guard duty in the woods, where I was ambushed by a grounder who spared my life for no discernible reason and all at once, I understood her choice as I replayed Indra’s words in my mind. She didn’t spare me out of mercy, but simply because I reminded her of her deceased daughter and the haunted expression that she wore as she stared into my eyes only confirmed my suspicions. She glanced over at Indra suspiciously, who nodded in acknowledgement, then back to me as she struggled to regain her composure. She had long copper hair that was almost entirely neatly plaited and a stern face that was as pale as my own. I shared her difficulty, as I stared into her blue eyes that reminded me of my mothers and couldn’t help a pang of familiarity myself.

“I am Arlo Kom Trishanakru. You wish to learn our ways, child?” Her voice was gravelly and full of authority as she stepped closer, and I nodded silently in return. “Your people are soft and weak. You will need to prove that you are worthy of my time. Do that and you will have the chance to regret your request. We do not hold hands. You will keep up or be left behind.” She divulged threateningly and I nodded, despite an overwhelming feeling of uncertainty that gripped my stomach. “Come with me. Indra, we will see how promising your offering is.” She stated as she began to stride away and I was relieved when Octavia and Indra followed together, instead of immediately leaving me alone with her.

Arlo led us further into the ruins in silence and I was amazed by the beauty of the structure. I wondered what this place had been before the world was destroyed, as we stepped through wide archways and into winding tunnels. Octavia and Indra fell further behind us as the space grew tighter and I found myself becoming nervous as I continued to navigate through. Arlo paused for a moment at an open archway and indicated for me to enter first. I took a deep breath and stepped through without question as I had been trained to do. As I emerged into a large, circular space, I heard the sound of a gate slamming and turned to find that I had been locked inside. Octavia hurried over to pull on it, but it didn’t budge and I scanned my surroundings with a feeling of dread.

There were high vantage points, but no other exits and it was clear that I would not be able to escape unless Arlo chose to free me. Octavia pounded against the gate with desperation, despite Indra’s barking orders not to interfere. A gradual movement on the other side of the space drew my attention, as a man chained to the wall struggled to his feet and my heart skipped a beat at the size of him. There was a jangling sound as keys fell from above in a crash at his feet and I faced upward to find Arlo leaning over from an alcove.

“This man slaughtered an entire village. He would have suffered death at the hands of those who call for justice, but there are no survivors to claim that right. Prove to me that you are capable of killing him and I will train you.” She announced from above as the man eagerly snatched for the keys and I stepped back in terror. “You, ripa. If you kill her, I will consider burning your body.” She added to spur him on and I felt my stomach lurch. She threw a dagger down in front of him whilst I frantically reached for mine and my hand brushed over the pistol that was hidden beside it.

I knew that this could improve my chances of survival, but that if I used it in this fight it would not earn my place with Arlo. I would have to depend on grounder tactics if I were to impress her and I gulped nervously as my opponent finished removing his restraints. When he straightened up it was clear that he was enormous, with wide shoulders and a ridiculous amount of muscle. He strode toward me with a menacing attitude and I could hear my heartbeat hammering in my ears.

I held my ground as he closed in on me and as he reached out to slash the knife in a wide motion, I jumped backward to dodge it. Seizing the opportunity to abuse the momentum of him falling forward, I brought my leg up to land a powerful kick in his stomach. He wheezed heavily whilst I bounced lightly on my feet to space myself from him. He hurtled around heavily and I only just crouched in time to avoid a sharp blow that skimmed over my head. Unfortunately, I wasn’t as quick on the next strike and his fist slammed into my face with an earth shattering impact. The shock caused me to stumble and he landed a quick succession of punches that threw me to the ground. I rolled out of the way, causing him to hit the solid floor on his next attempt and managed to drag myself back to my feet, despite feeling like my head could explode at any moment.

All of the training that I’d been through could never have prepared me for fighting to the death with someone this size and I felt myself slipping into panicked habits. I sloppily dodged around him for a while as I wracked my brain for ideas, until a powerful jab caught me in the ribs and I lost my edge. The grounder seized me by the neck and lifted me from the ground with a pressure that made my windpipe feel as if it were about to split in two. I kicked my legs in desperation as I squirmed in his grip and could hear myself screaming in my own mind.

In a moment of clarity, I plunged the dagger into the inner elbow of the arm that he was holding me with and his jerk reaction caused me to plummet back to my feet. Without missing a beat, I struck at his knees, prompting him to fall forward onto them. A desperate burst of energy allowed me to charge forward to kick him under the chin with all of the force that I could muster and he splayed flat on his back. My hands scrambled across the ground for the dagger and I brutally thrusted it into his chest. Hot, sticky blood sprayed up into my face as my hands shook wildly and I remained frozen in place as I stared down into his stunned face. My lungs burned from the panic and several parts of my body throbbed in a way that I knew wouldn’t heal anytime soon.

The gate that had trapped me in here finally swung open and Octavia rushed inside to help me to my feet as I groaned. Indra followed and seemed to view me with a new interest as I wobbled weakly on the spot. I could tell that she was surprised by this experience and couldn’t deny a slight pride in this, hidden deep beneath the whirlwind of emotions that currently wreaked havoc on my mind. Eventually Arlo entered the room with a controlled expression and I panted as I awaited her judgement.

“Well fought and you still live. This is not what I expected.” She commented as she crossed her arms at me and I scoffed at this confirmation that she had believed I would die here. “Very well, I will teach you. We camp here tonight. You’ll begin your training in the morning.” She declared, before sweeping out of the room and leaving me unsure whether I should celebrate or flee during the night. 

***

By morning, my entire body screamed in protest at every attempted movement and sleeping on the ground certainly hadn’t helped with stiffness. I acknowledged that I would probably have to get used to many uncomfortable aspects of living with Arlo and the comfort of Bellamy’s bed felt as if it were a lifetime away. I woke to discover a pile of clothes on the ground beside me and reluctantly slid off my jacket. Before I could get any further, Octavia strolled into the room and smiled warmly at me.

“Ah, I see you got your new uniform then.” She commented as she indicated to the clothing and I shrugged in response. I hadn’t thought as far ahead as this and although I was willing to adapt to as much of the grounder lifestyle as was necessary, I still felt a pang of sadness at the idea of shedding my usual clothing. 

“Yeah, I was wondering about that.” I confessed as she wandered over to take a seat beside me and she shrugged to indicate that she had not expected this either.

“Arlo says you’re too indiscreet in Skaikru clothes. Apparently you need to be able to blend in wherever you’re going.” She explained and I tilted my head thoughtfully. Although this made sense in theory, I had to admit that this earned my curiosity and my mind wandered over what challenges Arlo might have in store for me. It seemed that my training could become more involved than either of us would ever have imagined. “That also means your hair. I’ve got a bit of time before we head out, I could braid it for you? I can guarantee that I'll be gentler than letting her do it.” She suggested and I nodded at her gratefully. She slid into position behind me and made her best effort to get her hands through my hair that had already begun to dread in places. It was remarkably therapeutic for her to neatly organise it into sections and her presence helped me to gradually relax.

“It’s not too late to go back, you know.” She muttered in an attempted subtle manner and I tensed at her voice. “I know that this wasn’t the plan. You left camp to train with Indra and instead you’ve ended up with Arlo, who is…” She trailed off thoughtfully and I could tell that she was struggling to decide what she wanted to say. I wasn’t even sure how I could describe the differences between what I had expected and where I had ended up, but instead decided to lighten the mood with humour.

“The kind of grounder you could imagine eating their young?” I suggested and she snorted in laughter from behind. It was pleasant to enjoy such a simple moment alone with her, even if it was only fleeting and I noticed a pang of nostalgia in my chest. If nothing else, I was glad that my interest in this way of life had allowed me to re-establish my bond with Octavia and that my new knowledge gave me an insight into the person that she had become in our time apart.

“Exactly. Are you going to be okay with her?” She asked with concern in her voice and I sighed before answering. I appreciated our mutual protectiveness, but most of all I was pleased that we had both learned to trust the other to make the correct decision and to respect their wishes. As I reflected on how much things had changed between us since we arrived, an additional surge of determination rose from my chest to continue growing stronger to be able to meet threats at her side.

“I asked for this Tavi, literally killed for it. Now I’m going to make sure that I learn everything I can. I’ll learn to handle Arlo.” I assured her and she hummed thoughtfully behind me. “Just do me a favour and don’t mention the whole fight to the death thing to Bellamy. I won’t visit home until I heal up a bit. I think he’ll freak if he sees me with black eyes again.” I added with a slight snicker and Octavia shuffled around to view me as she finished up.

“I’ll keep it between us, don’t worry. Your hair is all done.” She chimed and as I moved to stand, I hissed in pain. My hand shot to my waist and I struggled to straighten up. “You look terrible.” She added with her brows furrowed tightly and I scoffed as I shook my head at her.

“Charming, thanks babe.” I teased as I forced a smile to hide my difficulty. I started to undress to change into my new outfit and Octavia cursed under her breath as I slid my vest off. She moved closer and brushed her fingers across my waist with a horrified expression.

“Fuck Indie, I think that ogre broke your ribs.” She gasped and I glanced to where she touched to find a large purple bruised area that covered almost an entire side of my waist. I hadn’t paid much attention until now and even I was shocked by the appearance of it. “You need to get this looked at.” She ordered as she met my eyes and I stepped backward to shake her off.

“It’s not that bad. I can’t immediately bail when I’ve only just earned my place.” I argued despite my inner horror and she stared at me in obvious disbelief. “I promise I will get Abby to take a look when I next come to camp, okay?” I offered, as I began to step into the clothing that I’d been provided and tried to ensure that I didn’t show any indication of concern. There was a heavily ripped pair of black jeans and a pair of knee high, lace up boots which I put on first. I was confused by what seemed to be an absence of a top, but Octavia revealed what I thought to be a long piece of fabric was actually a complicated, wrap around shirt which she assisted me into. There was a bodice that fastened at the front and had long, torn strips hanging from the side that allowed me to hide my radio and gun out of sight. Lastly were some arm warmers which had no real function that I could think of, but I put them on to appease my teacher. When I’d finished I turned to face Octavia, who examined me with pride.

“Look at you, you certainly look the part.” She crooned and I shrugged in return. It was interesting to discover how excited she was by this and her enthusiasm gave me a fresh buzz of appreciation for the journey I was about to undertake.

“All I’m missing now is my scary war paint.” I commented in a teasing manner and she shook her head at me.

“They only wear that when they’re going to battle, not all the time. It’s kinda in the name, doofus.” She snorted as she punched me playfully in the arm. I finished arming myself and hid my radio and gun, then followed Octavia outside to meet our mentors.

Indra and Arlo were standing close together as we emerged from the building and spoke in low voices. I noticed Indra passed her a small piece of paper that Arlo neatly tucked away and they touched arms in a grounder gesture of respect. As we neared, Arlo turned to face me with an appraising look and I was sure that I caught a hint of sentimentality in her expression as her eyes roamed my new appearance. For a moment, I wondered if she had even dressed me in a similar manner to her daughter, but the thought was uncomfortable and so I pushed it from my mind.

“Come child, we have much to do.” She ordered as she turned to stride away without another word and I strained to keep my focus in the moment. I glanced at Octavia to find her peeking between us nervously and without warning, she pulled me into a tight embrace.

“Don’t let her kill you.” She whispered with her mouth close to my ear and I smiled fondly over her shoulder. I basked in her comfort for a few moments, allowing her strength to bleed into me and committing the feeling to memory as I worried that I wouldn’t know when I might see her next. As we broke apart, my attention drifted over to Indra, who nodded subtly over at me in approval and my brows raised in surprise.

It took some considerable strength to tear myself away from the security of my best friend and to follow the strangely cold woman who now guided my fate. We collected our horses in silence and I climbed on to find that Arlo had tied hers nearby, out of sight of the meeting spot too. She led me for hours without a single word and I quickly began to miss the chatty rides through the woods with Octavia. I realised that my reality would be quite different now to anything that I’d previously known and steeled myself for the unexpected.

***

The clang of daggers filled the air as I recoiled from another attack and struggled to maintain my balance. Arlo continued to batter me with a barrage of beatings and over the past few days I’d come to understand that my training until now had been merely child’s play. She swept her leg out to take my footing and I slammed into the ground with a groan.

“Get knocked down, get back up.” Arlo threatened as she paced around my crumpled form and I had lost count of how many times I’d heard this statement. I had never known exhaustion as I felt in this moment and I couldn’t catch my breath. The practice had been utterly relentless since we arrived in her camp and I had the gut instinct that she was testing both my stamina and resolve. I tried to sit up but I couldn’t control a single muscle as my entire body cried out in agony. “Do you surrender, sky girl?” She leered from above me and I stared up at her with heavy pants of breath.

“I yield.” I groaned as I dropped my training daggers and stared lazily up at the sky. She had woken me during the night, kept me awake until late, stalked me to attack whenever I let down my guard and now I had nothing left to give. I bitterly awaited a punishment as I laid in the dirt and wondered which bruise I would receive for surrender. Instead, she simply smiled and dropped to a sitting position beside me.

“You are strong for a sky person; determined and stubborn.” She commented evenly and I thought I might die of shock from the compliment. “But you fight with anger and hatred. This fire fuels you, but it burns you also. You cannot control it. You fear it.” She clarified as she studied me with a wisdom that was clear to see. I fidgeted on the ground in an effort to raise myself into a sitting position and she pushed me flat onto my back again with little effort. “This is your weakness. It will get you killed. You must learn to control it.” She ordered in a stern tone and I sighed deeply.

“That is why I’m here. I need inner strength too.” I admitted under my breath and she smirked.

“That cannot be given, you have it or you do not.” She stated coldly as she got to her feet. “You must decide if you wish to be a warrior, or a coward.” She added, dusting herself off and placing her sword back in it’s sheath. “You have today to rest, tomorrow we hunt.” She stated, before striding away without a backwards glance and leaving me swiftly in the dirt.

Once alone in my tent I cleaned myself up, examining the black and blue of my skin that almost seemed to be my natural colour now. I removed the unnecessary items of clothing so that I could relax and my radio dropped to the ground. Wrapping myself tightly in a blanket, I gripped the radio close to me and as the light around the tent faded, I knew that Bellamy would likely be heading back to his quarters by now.

“Xena to Hells Bells.” I spoke quietly into the radio with a sly smile and waited eagerly for his voice. It had been gruelling since my arrival here and I had to admit that I could do with some comfort. A few moments of silence passed and I could imagine Bellamy rushing to find somewhere quiet to respond. I felt my eyes slipping closed from sheer exhaustion when a crackle finally alerted me to his presence.

“Hey Trouble.” The warmth in his words filled my chest, even through the tinny speaker and I felt a smile spread across my lips. “How's life with the Amazons?” He teased and I quietly giggled to myself.

“It’s exhausting on a level I never could have imagined.” I confessed in a meek voice and could sense his concern in his delayed response. Although I wouldn’t lie to him, I was also aware that I needed to be careful how much detail I shared and struggled to consider my words before I shared them.

“Are you alright?” He probed with a thinly veiled worry and I sighed deeply as I analysed my answer for anything that might send him into a protective frenzy.

“I’m getting used to it. How are you? Things okay in camp?” I enquired with a feeling of concern in my gut as the faces of the loved ones that I usually focused on flashed through my mind. The responsibility bared down on me and I tried to push it away before I could find myself crushed under the guilt of leaving them in their time of need. I reminded myself that I was here to become stronger so that I could protect all of us and asserted that I had to focus on myself.

“I’m alright, nothing much has changed here. I’m better now that I know you’re safe.” He mumbled and I hummed thoughtfully. I knew that he would be finding this change difficult, as his nature always urged him to keep his loved ones close and under his protection and I was proud of him for how well he was dealing with this. It was an important lesson for us both and although my heart cried out for him, I steeled myself against the loneliness that threatened to swallow me.

“We’re gonna be moving on tomorrow, so I don’t know when I’ll next be able to check in.” I relayed as I broke into a yawn mid sentence and he sighed.

“You sound like you could use some rest. I hope she’s giving you a chance to sleep?” He interrogated in a voice that I recognised well as defensive and I hummed in response sleepily. “It’s good to hear your voice Indie. Get some sleep and stay in touch.” He remarked and I could already feel my eyelids becoming heavy following the relief of speaking with him.

“I will. Take care of yourself. I’ll come back soon.” I mumbled before switching off the radio with a pang in my chest and settled down for a night of well earned sleep.