#*cough cough* its metal sonic

[shadow-tism]

What ….. what do you even do when someone has such a hatred for queer hc’s that they make an au where that character is “a straight guy and homophobic and transphobic” like?????

[shannonallaround]

Sonic Prime Story Snippet 1/2 (post S3E1)

Shadow woke up coughing.

Everything hurt. He was pretty sure he had cracked a rib, what with the sharp seizing pain he felt every time he took a breath. Great—just what he needed.

Shadow groaned as he tried to get his bearings. He lay sprawled out on rough rock; looking up, he saw an opening far above him, framed by the jagged earth. Barely any light reached him. Shadow rubbed his face; he vaguely recalled getting punched by that metal hedgehog and then falling. He must have ended up in the fissure Nine had made while trying to stop him and Sonic.

Shadow stared up at the opening, and for a moment, panic filled him. Had Sonic—?

Yes. Shadow breathed a sigh of relief as his memory settled into place. He had successfully thrown Sonic over the fissure, past the force field barrier, and out one of the cracks in the Grim. He was safe... for now. With those bird robots Nine had sent out after him, however, that wouldn't last long. He had to get up. Shadow pushed against the rocks beneath him to sit, only to nearly topple over as a dizzy spell hit him. (He really had taken a nasty beating to the head.) As Shadow waited for the pounding to ease, hand to his temple, he heard something that made him tense: clanking metal footsteps.

Knocking Shadow out wasn't enough; Nine had sent his robot henchmen to finish the job. As silently as possible, Shadow rolled over and ducked down behind the rocks he had been lying on. He suppressed a pained grunt as he landed. It was only a matter of time before they found him down here; undoubtedly Nine had equipped his bots with infrared vision, and while Shadow's night vision was decent, it was clear who would have the advantage in the dark. More metal steps; they were all down here, looking for him. He had to get out, now.

Shadow slipped further behind the rocks, listening to pinpoint his enemies' locations. Rockets propelled something slowly through the air—not twenty feet away, Shadow guessed. It had to be that Rouge bot, combing every pebble it came across for signs of him. The bot wasn't nearly as graceful in the air as the real thing—nothing and no one could out-fly Rouge the Bat. Shadow took a silent breath, shaking his head slightly to clear it; he couldn't afford any distracting thoughts now. He had one shot at this. The hovering came closer.

Three... two...!

Shadow shot off like a bullet. He hit the Rouge bot dead-on, knocking it off balance in the air. In an instant, he was on top of it, and in one swift movement Shadow grabbed the wings and angeled them up, sending them both on an upward trajectory towards—!

WHAM! 200 pounds of metal smashed into Shadow from the left, sending him flying off the Rouge bot. He smashed into the rock wall with so much force that his ears rang. He fell to the floor in a heap.

Shadow could hear his attacker approaching as he tried to push himself up. He panted as his arms shook, each breath torture. A sharp kick sent him back into the wall. Shadow glanced up just as the heavy metal foot of the Knuckles bot crashed down onto his chest.

Stars exploded behind Shadow's eyes. He gasped as daggers seemed to shoot through him, slashing at his battered ribs, his scream caught in his throat. He wheezed, hands clawing at the robot, but they slipped uselessly across the smooth metal surface; he was pinned, and pinned good.

The robot pressed down harder. Shadow could hardly breathe. The haze of pain blurred his vision; it dulled his thoughts; it sent the world spinning. His struggling slowly weakened. Through the haze, Shadow sensed another figure approaching. He looked up to see their backlit silhouette—the Amy bot. Shadow's eyes widened as the machine whipped out its hammer and swung it at him with inhuman speed.

Everything went black. *** The robots stood over their defeated foe, completely still. They did not celebrate their victory; they simply awaited orders. After a moment, static broke over their coms. "Bring him to me." 

------- Read Part 2 here.

DO NOT TAG AS SHIP

[handspunyarns]

You Were Marked: Days Twenty-Two to Twenty-Six, Part III.

pairing: din djarin x plus-size fem!O/C         

word count: 13K      

chapter summary: Din and Marathel repair the Razor Crest, Marathel takes her first sonic shower with interesting results, Din tries to change Marathel’s mind, the Razor Crest gets unexpected visitors. 

warnings:  angst, heartbreak, female masturbation, voyeurism, mention of blood, menstruation, chldbirth, mental illness and infertility, English and Mando’a cursing      

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. ***       

You Were Marked: Masterlist  

You Were Marked: <- Previous Chapter 

Marathel was in a deep sleep, curled up with Grogu on Din’s bedroll, when there was suddenly a loud ka-thunk, and everything quickly shifted sideways as she rolled into a hard surface.  She opened her eyes to near-darkness, except for glowing tiny lights of red and green.  Disoriented, she felt around her, and her hand fell upon little Grogu, who grabbed her hand tightly.  “What the …” she muttered, and then she heard running footsteps and a loud pounding on the door. 

“Wake up, Marathel!  We got problems!” 

“Wh … What?” 

“We just fell out of hyperspace!  Come out here!” 

Marathel shook herself awake and reached up to press the door button.  The door slid up, and she pulled herself out to see Din crouching by a panel halfway down the corridor.  “What’s happened?” 

“Get down here, I need your help.”  Din had been awake for a while, and he had replaced his armor and was in the process of putting his weapons on when one of the power banks had failed.  Marathel came down to where he was.  “Grab that corner, there.”  Marathel took hold of the panel where Din was pointing as he finished unlatching it.  She wasn’t prepared for its weight, and her corner hit the metal floor with a clonk, but she wrapped her fingers around the panel edge and helped him slide it down the wall.  

That task done,  Marathel stood behind him as Din knelt to tap tiny screens above each component in the rack.  “Haar’chak, the whole thing’s down.” 

“Are we in danger?” 

“We will be, if I can’t get this up and running again!”  Din stood and began taking off his blasters. 

“What should I do?” 

“Just … stand right there for right now, and don’t touch anything!” he snapped as he pulled off his pauldrons and cuirass.  “Hate this damned thing,” muttered Din as he sat on the floor and began squeezing himself into the small access crawl space to get behind the power bank.  Marathel stood silent, unmoving.  Din continued to curse and mutter as he folded himself into a working position.  “Ah … fuck me, the whole damn thing is wired wrong!” 

“Fuh!” shouted Grogu. 

“Grogu, I told you to cut that out.” 

Marathel was confused.  “Didn’t Peli just repair this ship?  Why would she wire it wrong?” 

Din sighed.  “Well, she didn’t wire it wrong, she wired it correctly, and that’s the problem.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense.” 

Din chuckled.  “I guess not.  A while ago I had to jerry-rig this wiring and the ship flies better with the adaptation.  The wires are hooked up to the wrong cart components, and it finally tripped itself.  I have to pull all these wires first, then you’re going to pull the carts as I rewire it, okay?” 

“Okay,” said Marathel, not sounding okay about it at all. 

“Just sit down there in front of the panel, I’ll let you know when I need you.” 

Marathel sat, listening to Din grunt and quietly curse to himself as he did whatever he was doing.  “Did you get any rest?” she asked. 

“Don’t talk to me right now,” said Din.  “I’m trying to not electrocute myself.” Marathel sat silently.  Grogu toddled over to join her, and she held him on her lap as they waited for instructions.  “And yes, I got some rest.  Are you all right?” 

Marathel shifted slightly, then swallowed.  “Yes.” 

Behind the power panel, Din coughed to cover up his discomfort, then said, “Okay, we’re going to work from your left to your right.  Grab the handles of the first cart and pull it out halfway.” 

Marathel grasped the handles and gave the thing a tug, but it didn’t move.  “What’s halfway on this thing?”  She pulled again, much harder, and the whole thing pulled out of the wall and landed on the floor. 

Din sighed.  “Half of what you just did.” 

“Did I just kill us all?” 

“Not yet. Just put it back in, halfway, and wait for me to get the right wire connected.” Marathel did as he instructed and waited.  After a short while, Din said, “Okay, slide the cart back in fully.”  Marathel carefully pushed the cart back in, giving it a hard shove to seat it correctly.  “Did lights come on?” 

“Yes.” 

“What does the screen say?” 

“Screen?” 

“There’s a small screen in the middle of the cart.  What does it say on the screen?”  Marathel was silent.  “Marathel, just read what’s on the screen!” 

“I can’t.” 

“You can’t see the screen?” 

“I can’t read, Din, I told you that!” 

There was a long silence. Din groaned quietly.  “She can’t read.”  Din chuckled, and Marathel heard his helmet clank against something.  “Yes, you told me, I forgot.  Okay, change of plans.” Din shifted around and began pulling himself out from behind the power bank.  “You need to do the rewiring, then.” 

“Me?” 

“Yes, you.  Each wire goes between two metal plates that you use this screwdriver to tighten.”  He handed her a small tool with a flat end.  “Go on, get back there.” 

“What makes you think I’ll fit?  You had a hard time squeezing in there!” 

“You’ll fit just fine.  Now get going before we lose backup power.” 

Marathel glared at Din, but she put the screwdriver in her pocket and fed her feet into the small access opening, as she’d seen Din do, and began pushing herself through.  “I have no idea what you need me to do back there.” 

“You’ll figure it out by the time you’re done.  You only have … um …” Din counted on his fingers as he said, “‘Bad Boys Rape Our Good Girls But Violet Gives Willingly, Got Some’ … twelve.  Twelve wires.” 

“Bad Boys do what?” 

“‘Bad Boys Rape Our Good Girls But Violet Gives Willingly, Got Some.’  It’s how I remember the wiring colors.  Black, blue, red, orange, green, green, blue, violet, grey, white, gold, silver.” 

“You said green and blue twice.” 

“They’re different wires.  You’ll see.” Marathel grunted in disgust, and Din swore he heard her mutter osi’kovid under her breath as she struggled to get back behind the panel.  “What did you just say?” asked Din. 

“I called you an osi’kovid!” 

Din chuckled to himself.  “Do you even know what that means?” 

“I know it’s nothing good.”  Marathel looked at the tangle of wires before her, then at the bank of metal plates.  She looked carefully at the connection of the black wire that Din had completed.  “So blue is next?  Which blue?” 

“It’s solid blue, not the striped one.  You have to put the end of the wire where the coating is stripped off, put that end between the two plates, and tighten the screws to lock it down.” 

“I’ll do my best.” Marathel found the solid blue wire and pulled it loose from the tangle.  The bare end touched another wire’s bare end, and Marathel felt a zzzt sensation that was painful.  “Aigh!” 

“Don’t let the ends touch,” said Din. 

“Now you fucking tell me!” snapped Marathel. 

“Fuh-EE!” shouted Grogu, and Din shushed him. 

Oh, good, the ‘child repeating swear words’ days are upon you, Bounty Hunter, have fun with that, wryly thought Marathel.  She carefully placed the wire end between the plates and placed the flat end of the … screwdriver, that’s what he called it … into the slot of the screw head and turned it, but the tiny screw fell to the floor with a ting.  “Oh no …” 

“You must have turned the screwdriver the wrong way.  It’s lefty loosey, righty tighty.” 

“What?” 

“Turn the screwdriver left to loosen the screw, and right to tighten it.” 

“I can’t find the little screw.  It fell out.”  Tears filled her eyes, and Marathel sobbed.  “I don’t know what I’m doing, Bounty Hunter …” 

“Marathel …” 

“I’m going to kill us all …” 

“Mesh’la, honey …” — honey? Where did that come from? — “It’s going to be fine.  You can do this.  The screw is on the floor right in front of you, I guarantee it.  Just take a breath and look for it again.”  He heard Marathel sniffle, then take a shaky breath.  He pulled the cart halfway out and waited.  After a few moments, he heard her whisper righty tighty.  “Tighten the top screw a little, then the bottom screw a little.  Go back and forth to tighten then evenly.  Make the connection good and tight.”  He waited a few moments.  “Got it?” 

“I think so.” 

“All right, then,” said Din as he slid the cart back into its socket.  Moment of truth, he thought, and the readout screen flashed its green message: Override Ready.  “You did it, mesh’la, good job.” 

“Next one is red, yes?” 

“Yes,” replied Din as he slid out the next cart. 

“Red for rape,” said Marathel as she carefully found the red wire and inserted it into place.  “‘Bad Boys Rape Our Good Girls,’” she scoffed. “I think you need a different way to remember this.” 

“Come up with one, and I will.” 

“Oh, I will.” Din heard Marathel grunt softly as she concentrated on her task.  “There.  Done.” 

Surprised, Din said, “That was fast.”  He slid the cart home and override ready flashed.  “Green next.  Light green.” 

“Light green …” repeated Marathel as she untangled the wires, and she shocked herself again.  “Aigh!” 

“You need to be more careful,” said Din. 

“You’re the one that left me this tangled mess, you … cigpell pudyn!” snapped Marathel, attaching the light green wire.   

“And what does that mean?” 

“It means meatball dick!”  

Din burst out laughing.  “Meatball … meatball?”  He was laughing so hard he snorted.  “That doesn’t even make sense!” 

Marathel grumbled as she tightened the tiny screws.  “Light green is done!” 

Still laughing, Din reset the cart and got an error message.  “No good, try resetting the wire.” 

“The wire is fine,” said Marathel, gently tugging the wire. 

“Not from where I’m sitting.  Try it again.”  Din listened to Marathel mutter under her breath as she loosened the wire.  “You may need more wire lead.  Peel back some of the green covering and reset it.”  Marathel did as Din instructed, but he still got the error message. “I don’t know what, Marathel, but you’re doing something wrong.” 

Of course, it’s my fault.  “Are you sure it’s not supposed to be the dark green wire first?” 

“Positive.” 

Marathel sighed.  “Can we try the dark green wire, at least?” 

Din sighed as well.  “Fine.  Go ahead.”  He pulled out the cart again.  “And you, of all people, know that my pudyn looks nothing like a meatball.” 

“It might after I throw a big enough rock at it,” said Marathel archly.  “Okay, try it now.”  Din replaced the cart.  “Well?”  Din was silent.  “Was I right?” 

“Yes,” he muttered. 

“Okay, then.  Now it’s the light green wire, yes?” 

“Yes.” 

“And who is a cigpell pudyn?” asked Marathel with as much snark as she could muster.  “Well?” 

“… I am.” 

Marathel chortled.  “Good boy.”  She continued down the row, replacing the wires in order as Din replaced the carts.  When they got to Violet and the purple wire, Marathel asked, “So, who’s this Violet who Gives Willingly?” 

“No one.  It just works in the phrase.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Can’t help that,” said Din.  There was no way in Frith he was going to tell her that while her name wasn’t Violet, a particular prostitute he had been fond of at one time had a magnificent head of purple hair that set off her deep, dark green skin.  Damn, she was fine, thought Din, wondering where she was these days. 

Marathel rolled her eyes, but she carried on with her task.  Din had been right, Marathel got very proficient with the screwdriver by the time she was tightening up the gold and silver wires, and she felt quite proud of herself.  Well, Marathel, old girl, not half bad.   

Din, on the other side of the power bank, felt pride on her behalf as well — Marathel wasn’t lacking in intelligence; she could follow instructions and tackle new tasks, was willing to get her hands dirty — and he was sure that the nimbleness in her hands and fingers would make her a great assistant mechanic. What a team we’d make, thought Din, and his heart warmed with the possibility.  “All right, Marathel, good job.  Now I’m going to fire this thing up.” 

“You are?  Am I safe back here?” 

“More or less.  Just don’t touch anything.”  Before Marathel could protest, Din flipped the switches, the power bank turned on, and the engines came to life with a dull roar.  “Dank ferrik, yes!” crowed Din.  “Okay, you can come out now!  Don’t forget the screwdriver!”  Marathel rolled her eyes as she put the screwdriver that she came in with — as well as two more she found under the tangle of wires — into her pocket, and she began to wriggle out from the tiny crawl space.  Din reached in to help pull her out, and he gave a strong tug on her just as she pushed hard on a girder with her feet, and Marathel tumbled into his lap as he fell backwards.    

She looked up at him in surprise as she lay on his legs, her face at level with his belt buckle.  Din continued to hold her hands as he gazed at her, mostly reclining on his elbow, thinking how damn cute she looked with engine smut on her face and hands, her hair and clothes disheveled. Marathel’s face colored that becoming shade of pink that he liked so much as she pulled her hands free and rolled off his legs to sit on the floor.  Din sat up too, and gently put his hand on her back.  “You did good, Marathel.  I’m proud of you.  I would have hated to do that job by myself.” 

Marathel handed Din all three screwdrivers. “How would you have done that?” 

“Ugh.  I would have had to crawl out each time, after connecting each wire.  Terrible.”  Din grunted as he stood up and reached down to help Marathel stand.  “You got a little dirt on your face,” he said, touching her cheek with a gloved finger. 

Marathel shied away, saying, “I’m sure I did.  It’s filthy back there.” 

“Engines generally are.” 

Marathel hummed vaguely as she moved to the basin at the far end of the ship.  Din watched as she found the soap and a towel and poured out a tiny bit of water from her canteen into her hands.  “Marathel, what are you doing?” asked Din, confused. 

Marathel dropped the towel on the floor as she stepped back from the basin, dropping her head, sliding her hands into her sleeves.  “Washing my hands,” she whispered. 

“You’ve been using your drinking water to wash your hands?” 

“I thought that was all the water I was allowed,” said Marathel, pointing briefly at the canteen. 

“That’s for drinking.  You may drink as much water as you wish. You haven’t been drinking your water?”  Din came over and lifted the canteen; it was still nearly full. “Is this the same water I originally gave you?  It’s easy to get dehydrated on long hyperspace hauls. You should be drinking more, Marathel,” Din said sharply. 

“I didn’t know …” 

“Drinking water is there for the taking, just like the food, Marathel!  You don’t have to hoard or conserve drinking water!  There’s a basin in the fresher to wash in that’s hooked up to the water recycler …” Din watched Marathel continue to cringe into herself.  “… which I never showed you.”  Din sighed.  “I didn’t show you the fresher, or where the cleaning papers for the vac tube are, or where I keep the spare blankets, for kriff’s sake.”  He noticed her shoulders shaking, and he realized she was crying.  “Oh, mesh’la, please don’t cry …” Din went to her and wrapped his arms around her. 

“I’m sorry I’m so stupid,” whimpered Marathel, keeping her arms tightly against herself, refusing to hug him back, despite how much she ached to do so. 

“No, I’m sorry, I’m the stupid one who’s been rude and insufferable to you.  Everyone I’ve ever known automatically knows where to find everything on a ship like this, and it never occurred to me that you wouldn’t, although, why would you know?  The only time you’ve been on this ship for any length of time, you were injured.  Unconscious.”  Din sighed and rocked her back and forth as he quietly said, “I’m sorry I’m such an osi’kovid.” 

Marathel sniffled, then asked, “What does that mean?” 

“Shithead.” Marathel chuckled, and Din continued, “And I’ve also been a … what is it?  A tymffod.  What does that mean, mesh’la?” 

“Asshole.” 

“Yeah, I’ll take that.  And a cigpell pudyn, if that helps.  And a knob, too, I heard that one from you, earlier.” Din held her tight and stroked her hair, glad to know that he could again safely hold her like this without acting like a sex-starved maniac.  “Marathel, ma’mwsh ha’laa, I wish … I wish you’d just … stay right here, or anywhere else, other than ...” Din’s voice trailed off. 

Marathel swallowed, then pushed Din back, wiping her cheeks, and looked down to her feet.  “I appear to have grown a Grogu again.” 

Din looked down too, still surprised by the shoes on her feet, seeing Grogu holding tightly to Marathel’s ankle.  He sighed.  Apparently, the moment of closeness with Marathel was over.  “Come here, kid,” said Din, bending down to pick up the boy.  “Did you take good care of Mahr last sleep cycle?” 

“Mama,” said Grogu. 

“Mama,” repeated Din. 

“We slept well until everything went sideways,” said Marathel. 

“We’re back up and running now,” said Din.  “Let’s get this panel back on.” 

“Okay.  Oh — before we do that …”  Marathel dropped down her knees by the access hatch, reached in, and pulled out a square of black insulation foam.  “I found this just lying in there.  May I use it?” 

“Of course,” said Din, assuming she’d use it to sit on while she knitted.  That was why it was in the access tunnel in the first place, to sit or kneel on while he had to tinker around in there.  Together they got the panel back in place, then Din said they needed to strap in to get back into hyperspace.  Marathel climbed the ladder first, giving Din another view of her ample backside as she went up, making him wish that they were in a romantic relationship, on good terms, just so he could playfully smack her on that lovely ass.  This thought left him with a wistful feeling as he followed her into the cockpit with Grogu.  Marathel was seated and struggling with the straps, so he knelt before her, placing Grogu in her lap, carefully untwisting the restraining belts and snapping them closed, letting his hands slide off her thighs as she stared at him with wide eyes. 

“Don’t do that,” she whispered, not frightened of him, but of the thrill his touch sent through her. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered back, even though he wasn’t.  He stood and went to his seat to recalculate the jump to hyperspace, wondering in the back of his mind if she needed to lock herself in his quarters again, as he felt like he was already at half-staff.  He looked back at her.  “Ready?” 

“Ready,” said Marathel with an uncertain smile.  

Din turned back to the console and pulled the throttle, sending them shooting forward in space.  Marathel felt her stomach change places with her liver and wondered if she’d ever get used to this hyperspace thing.  Once they were settled in their path, Din undid his safety straps and stood, saying, “Much better.  Thank you for helping out.  Okay, let’s go back down.”  He released the catches on her restraints, letting his hands linger briefly on her hips before descending the ladder. 

Marathel followed with Grogu.  “I hate this ladder already.” 

“Believe me, I avoid leaving the cockpit as much as possible,” said Din, and Marathel chuckled to herself as she thought, I guess he does piss for distance.  Din pressed a pad on the wall next to the power bank panel, and a door slid open, revealing another tiny room.  Din stepped inside.  “The fresher.  Here is where you can switch from sonic to the water option.” 

“Sonic?” Marathel also stepped inside the fresher and had to stand close to Din for both of them to fit. 

“Sonic means the fresher uses sound waves to remove dirt and oils from your skin.  The water is recycled, but it doesn’t get very hot, and it’s not hot for long.” 

Marathel looked dubious.  “Which would you prefer I use?” 

“It’s up to you. I generally use the sonic setting, and then wash my face with warm water in the basin.  It can get gross in the helmet from time to time,” said Din with a shrug. 

“Well, I guess I’ll follow your example.”   

Din nodded and opened the storage bin.  “Here is facial soap,” he said, handing her a tube.  “Did you want to wash your hair, though?  The sonic does okay for my hair, but I keep my hair short … as you saw,” he added quietly. 

Marathel pulled a handful of her hair over her shoulder and looked at it.  “I’ll see what the sonic does for me.”   

Din found her a clean washcloth and a small towel.  “Okay, so it’s set on sonic, and you just have to press this button here to start.  Then you stand over the drain, there, and the cycle will run for a few minutes.  It’s on a timer, so if you’re not clean to your satisfaction, you can just press the start button again.  The button below that opens and closes the door.” Din stepped back to the doorway.  “There’s no lock, but I’ll take Grogu with me back to the cockpit and close that door.  You’ll have complete privacy down here.  Did you need anything else?” 

Marathel shook her head.  “Thank you.” 

“Of course.”  Din took Grogu back, catching some of her hair as he did.   He untangled her hair from his glove and smoothed it over her shoulder before he stepped out of the fresher. 

“Oh, by the way …” said Marathel, and Din turned back to her.  “‘Beautiful Blossoms Rise Over Green Grass, Blooming Vines Grow With Good Sunshine.’” 

Din tilted his helmet.  “Do what?” 

“‘Beautiful Blossoms Rise Over Green Grass, Blooming Vines Grow With Good Sunshine,’” repeated Marathel.  “To remember your wiring by.” 

Din smiled widely under his helmet.  “I like that much better.  Just knock if you need anything.”  Marathel nodded, and Din and Grogu returned to the cockpit. 

Marathel heard the cockpit door close, and she poked her head out of the fresher to look.  Not seeing either Bounty Hunter or a little boy, she found her bag and brought it to just outside the fresher.  She pulled off her top and pants and folded them into a neat pile, then went to quickly use the vac tube, tossing her used pad into the tube before toggling the contraption.  Thank Frith, it seems I’m finally bleeding less.  Returning to the fresher, Marathel carefully removed the dilator from her and placed it in the basin so she could wash it after her shower.  Or would it be called a sonic? she wondered.  Marathel pressed the button to close the fresher door, then she pressed the button to start.  

Right away, she heard a low vibration and felt it in her bare feet.  Marathel stepped over to the drain as Din had directed. She felt the vibrations growing more powerful, and she could see the dirt leaving her hands, almost as a swath of sand would blow off a flat rock.  She marveled at this, and she felt the vibrations as a massage that trembled through her entire body.  The vibrations became stronger and faster, and they seemed to center low in her belly.  After a short time, the vibrations grew even more powerful, and the sensation became warm and pleasurable as Marathel gasped, realizing she was becoming aroused. 

Oh, no, she thought to herself.  No, I don’t want this!  But her body betrayed her as the vibration of the sonic shower continued to titillate instead of soothe. Marathel reached down and pressed her hand against her pubis, seeking a release from her stimulation.  When that didn’t work, she flattened her front against the cool metal wall of the fresher, which only worked for a few moments as her feverish heat warmed the wall.  Her breasts began to ache, so she pressed them harder into the unyielding metal as she reached between her thighs, gently sliding her fingertips over her clitoris. She gasped again, this time with a throaty groan, and she clapped her free hand over her mouth.  Oh, Frith, what can he hear in that cockpit? 

Din had, in fact, heard her groan; the auditory capabilities of his helmet were quite powerful. The fresher was also situated almost directly below the cockpit, and sound carried through the floor.  Over the years, he’d become accustomed to the fresher being the official wank closet and the noises that would emanate from within the times he’d be traveling with someone. On several memorable occasions, he’d traded visits to the sonic shower for a bit of companionship from female bounties (and a couple of male ones, too, he wasn’t too particular if someone wanted to make it worth his while).   But he’d heard — through that unreliable horny mercenary grapevine — that sonic showers could provide some females with sexual stimulation.  And this was the first time a woman was in there where he’d heard her possibly masturbating.   

Din looked back at Grogu, who was quietly occupying himself with the gear knob and a ball of Marathel’s yarn, using the Force to make them fly in complicated patterns.  Din looked back out the view screen, pulled his flight notebook onto his lap, and turned up the receiver in his helmet.  Concentrating his hearing on the room below, he listened to what he believed was Marathel touching herself, wondering if it was only the sonic waves bringing her off, or if she were as frustrated as he was, being so close together, denying the feelings she had for him. 

And oh, Marathel was frustrated, and confused as well; why was she having these desires, when they should be the last thing on her mind?!  But she kept pressing her breasts against the wall as her hand stroked herself, softly, gently, not even attempting penetration, for she was still so fragile and wounded there; she did not think she would be able to bear that, not only physically, but mentally as well.  As her fingers continued their playful touches on her bud, she began to rock her hips, gasping in tiny, quiet moans.  She kept rocking, the motion setting off delicious twitches inside her as she flexed her muscles in her hips, belly, and buttocks, and her fingers strummed her swollen clitoris.  Oh, you taught me, Din, you taught me well, how wonderful this feels!  I wish it were you touching me like this; if you were, I would pleasure you in any way you wished, I would make you bread for eternity, I would trap myself in the smallest flying metal box for you.  Her twitching hips moved more frantically as she began to crest into her orgasm.  She slid her free hand up her body and began gently tweaking her nipple, making her gasp again. She squeezed her thighs and tried to flex her pelvic floor — a hitherto unknown part of herself, brought to her attention by Eliadu — as hard as she could.  Her other hand alternated tapping and stroking her clit until she finally tipped over the edge and climaxed; her mouth worked noiselessly, and her eyes closed, her knees bent, and her fingers pressed hard against her clitoris, feeling her pulse within, counting the beats of her rushing heart. 

The sonic vibrations of the fresher slowed, and then stopped.  Marathel finished riding out her orgasm with a last breathy gasp, and she sank to the floor, relishing its coolness against her flushed, warm skin.  Breathing hard, Marathel rolled to her back, stretching out her limbs.   

In the cockpit, Din felt like the most lecherous type of voyeur, eavesdropping on Marathel below.  He’d just taken another look back at Grogu, and the kid was crashed on the seat of the aft chair, snoring softly.  Under the guise of adding entries into his ship’s written log — he preferred writing them out in longhand —he listened to Marathel touching herself; Marathel, who was so recently brutalized at the hands of others, giving herself pleasure with her own hands.  Her gasps were quiet and small, leading him to think that she was using the gentlest of touches, the softest of strokes of her fingertips against her delicate skin.  The notebook on his lap concealed his erection, and he wished he could stroke himself to the sounds Marathel was making, but Grogu’s presence made that infeasible. Oh, Marathel, I wish I were in there with you, touching you myself, I would be so gentle, and touch you only where you allowed, with only the lightest, the most tender of caresses, I wish we could be alone, where I could give you such soft touches until you came for me, and you could scream my name as loud as you want to, mesh’la!  He wanted her to be a screamer for him, a blanket-stealing, bread-baking, soft, plush, magnificent screamer of a lover, he was certain that she was coming in the room below him, coming hard like she had every time with him, and he was close to coming himself when he heard her moaning, but in pain. 

In the fresher, Marathel’s breathing slowed and she began to feel chilled in the small room.  She had carefully sat up when she felt a cramp rip through her lower belly, and she moaned as quietly as she could.  Oh, no, not now, not my cycle, why am I not done with that, as old as I have learned that I am?  She fell back to her side, waiting for the next wave of cramps that would inevitably come, pain that would fold her in half, unable to move.   

But that sort of pain didn’t come.  There was pain within her, but not in the muscles of her abdomen.  The pain seemed lower, deeper inside.  Marathel looked down at herself, expecting blood, and there was blood, but not the amount she was accustomed to with her cycles.  She felt her muscles quake again, and she moaned, and then she felt the need to push, that there was something within her vagina that she needed to expel. 

What in Frith was happening to her? 

Fennec had told her she wasn’t pregnant, Eliadu had told her that she couldn’t get pregnant, yet, here she was, trembling and moaning on the floor, feeling as if she was about to give birth to something, for the sensations she was feeling within was unlike but somehow strangely similar to all of her previous cycles, when she would pass clot after clot … 

There was a knocking on the fresher door.  “Marathel?”  Din was worried, almost panicked, all of his licentious thoughts gone.  “Are you all right?” 

Marathel gasped, and her head whipped around towards the door.  “I’m fine, I’m … fine …” Her abdominal muscles contracted again, making her voice waver on the last word.   

“You’re in pain, I heard you moaning …” 

“You were listening?!” 

“No! No …  Just now, I heard you …” 

“How could you LISTEN like that?!”  The need to push became overwhelming, and she groaned as she felt blood running down her thighs.    

“Marathel!  I’m coming in!” 

“NO!  Don’t you DARE come in!” 

“Let me HELP you!” cried Din. 

“I don’t NEED your help!” Marathel shouted back.  “I … don’t need … ANYONE …” She rolled to a deep squat on her feet and hands, grit her teeth, and bore down on whatever it was her body was trying to release.  She reached down between her legs, and could just feel something gelatinous inside her, so she took another deep breath and pushed again.  This time she felt a mass exit her vagina, and she went to her knees, trying to catch her breath.  And here I thought I’d never give birth, but I think I just did, thought Marathel.   

Din knocked on the door again.  “Marathel?  Mesh’la?  Please, talk to me!  What is happening?” 

“I’m okay … I’m all right,” weakly said Marathel.  She reached behind her, finding the mass she’d just expelled with her fingertips.  What in Frith?  She moved herself to a position where she could see whatever it was, a dark red-brown clot, about the size of a gorugelly, that contained clumps of what appeared to be crusted flesh.  Marathel realized what had occurred: she had passed a clot of scabs made by the cauterizing of the worst of the wounds made by the Dilimgau.  Ceiroprac had told me I might shed those, though Marathel.  I didn’t think I’d be so damn dramatic about it though! How typical of me, thought Marathel.  She laughed weakly at first, and then louder as she realized how absurd her life was. 

Outside the fresher door, Din was bewildered by the sudden sound of laughter on the other side.  “Marathel?  If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m coming in there.” 

“Oh … calm down, Din, for the love of Frith!  I’ll be fine.  The sonic waves shook loose some … internal scabbing, and I wasn’t expecting that.” 

Internal … oh, he thought, remembering that Marathel had refused reconstruction where she had been so badly damaged by the Dilimgau, but had wounds cauterized instead.  “I’m sorry, ner kar’ta. Are you still in pain?  Are you bleeding badly?” 

“I … some.  But I’ll be all right.” 

“What can I do for you?” Din pleaded. 

Marathel squinted up at the switch he had told her toggled the fresher between sonic and water.  “Would it be all right if I turned on the water?” 

“That … the water won’t be very warm.” 

“I don’t mind cold water.  But there’s blood, and … clots.  Can that go down the drain in here?” 

Din sighed.  “Not a large amount of blood, and I’d rather any solids didn’t.” It was a decent recycling system, but not that good. 

“Then please bring me rags and a bucket, or something, so I can clean this up.” 

“Damn it, Marathel, let me do that for you!” He found a large towel.  Going back to the fresher door, he turned his head away and closed his eyes.  “I’m going to open the door now.  My eyes are averted.”  Before Marathel could protest, he opened the fresher door and stepped backwards into the doorway, holding out the towel behind him.  “Here; wrap yourself in this.”  He felt the towel being snatched from his hand.  “Let me know when I can turn around.” 

Marathel wrapped the towel around her, covering as much as she could.  Leaning into the far corner, she quietly said, “Okay.” 

Din turned around, his eyes seeking out Marathel.  Her back was to him as she faced the corner of the fresher, the towel only covering her from mid-thigh to mid back, unable to wrap around her fully, and she had pulled her hair over her shoulder to cover her front.  I should have brought her blanket, thought Din; he had again forgotten that she was a little more full-figured, and needed more coverage than a standard cheap towel would provide, because all he could ever see was that her form was perfect. 

There were drips of blood running down her inner calves. Din looked over to the drain, seeing a small puddle of blood along with the remains of a large viscous clot, as well as bloody prints of both her hands and bare feet on the floor.  Din removed his gloves and rolled up his sleeves.  He grabbed the washcloth and went to the basin to soak it, seeing the bloody dilator in the basin.  He looked over at Marathel just as she looked over her shoulder, and she flushed pink again, turning her face back to the corner.  Din’s eyes went down her back, still covered with welts, and he watched another drop of blood roll down her leg, dismayed at how much she still had to suffer just to heal.   “Will you at least let me take you to a medical facility?” 

“How would you explain my injuries?” 

Din soaked the washcloth and knelt by the large clot, doing his best to not look at it too much as he scooped it into the other small cloth.  “The same story as before … you’re a runaway sex slave.” 

“What if they don’t believe you?” 

“They don’t ask many questions on a bounty.” 

“Then why didn’t you take me there instead of Tatooine?” 

Din began mopping up the worst of the blood, deciding to tell the partial truth.  “I wasn’t too capable of logic at the time, my head being bashed in and all.” I was too afraid to put you in the hands of strangers. 

Marathel looked at him over her shoulder.  “What’s that?  On your wrist?” 

The yarn bracelet.  He’d forgotten. He carefully wrapped the stained towels together.  “Nothing.” 

Marathel frowned.  From what she could see, it was some sort of … adornment made from green, yellow, and brown yarn, the same colors she and Grogu had used to tie on the poosticks. “I don’t remember you having that before.” 

Din did not answer her; instead, he took the bloody cloths and disposed of them in the vac tube and came back to wash his hands, looking away from the dilator.  He opened the storage bin and pulled out a bottle.  “Here is shampoo if you’d like to use it.”  Marathel watched as Din stashed another, smaller bottle in his pocket, wondering what that could be that he needed to hide it; it wasn’t like she read the damn label, after all.  He turned a dial on the wall.  “Now you’ll have water.  The same switch will turn it on.  I’ll leave another towel outside the door.  Okay?” 

“Thank you.  I’ll be quick; I don’t want to waste your water.” 

“Please, don’t … don’t worry about that.  Take all the time you need.  Or at least all the cold water you can stand.” 

“Thank you, Din.” 

Din gazed at her, still pressed into the corner, naked but for her long hair and a scanty towel.   

She is so soft, so beautiful.  So sad.   

So broken. 

“You’re welcome, Marathel.”  He grabbed his gloves, left the fresher, closing the door behind him.  She called me Din, he thought.  I’m Din again. 

Marathel remained crowded into the corner of the fresher for a while after Din left her alone, mind racing, bewildered again by the Mandalorian Bounty Hunter.  Ashamed as she was that he’d heard her before, that he’d listened to her as she … but he had come running to her when he thought that she was hurt, just as he’d come running when she called for him when Grogu had put her in a tree.  Just like how he’d taken her broken body away with him when he left Unmanarall.  And what had she done for him?  Fed him meals, baked him bread, given him some physical pleasure? 

Broken his heart? 

Tears threatened again, chipping away at her resolve, trying to make her forget why she was insisting on going back … and the reasons for doing so were growing less and less important. 

Marathel tried to turn off her addled brain as she went over to the fresher controls and turned on the water.  Stepping under the aerated spray, she expected cold water, but what she experienced instead was something even more frigid than her waterfall during the deepest part of cold season.  Chilled almost instantly to the bone, Marathel shrieked, “GAIAH!!!!” 

In the cockpit, Grogu had woken up, and was cuddled on Din’s lap when Marathel’s surprised scream reverberated through the ship.  Oh kriff, thought Din as he hurriedly turned down the reception volume on his helmet.  Then he chuckled and patted Grogu’s tummy, saying, “I think I forgot to tell Mama to let the water run for a minute before getting in.”  Grogu frowned up at him, folding his ears down.  “Yeah, she’s gonna throw a rock at my pudyn for sure.” 

Later, Marathel was clean and dressed again.  It took a while before she got warm, though, after nearly freezing herself in the fresher.  The water did eventually get mildly warm, but nowhere near enough to offset how cold the water was initially.  Osi’kovid, thought Marathel.  And after I helped him fix this flying metal box!  

Marathel dressed in her other set of blue clothes, the thick socks Cobb had given her, and then finally her blanket.  She figured out the drinking water dispenser and helped herself to Din’s tiny galley storage, finding the container of tea.  She made two cups of extra-hot tea, a cup of bone broth, and cut a loaf of Silnima’s sweet squash bread into thick slices.  Carrying one cup of tea and the cup of broth, she went up to the cockpit access.  “Din?” 

She heard his feet drop heavily to the floor, and he was up and looking down at her in a flash. “Mesh’la?” 

Marathel pursed her lips at the endearment, and said, “Here is broth for Grogu, and tea for you.”  She placed the cups, each with a slice of sweet bread on top, at Din’s feet.   

Din quickly dropped to one knee and was just able to touch her fingers briefly as she let go of the cups.  “Thank you, Marathel.” 

“When Grogu is finished, would you please send him with the cups back to me?  I finished knitting something for him.” 

“Of course.” Marathel nodded, then disappeared from view.  Din stayed there, on one knee, long after she’d left, just listening to her moving around on his ship, humming the only song, digging through drawers in the galley, sipping her tea, vocalizing her Oldtalk to the melody of the only song now and again.  Grogu came and snagged his sweet bread and his bone broth and sat next to Din, enjoying his snack and listening to his Mama while Din thought about doing a U-turn, taking her to his covert and presenting her to the Armorer as his choice for riddurr. 

But then, Din sighed and reconsidered. Kidnapping a bride was Paz’s style, not his.  And being an Apostate meant a riddurrok was out of the question until he could redeem himself.  So, he sat down next to his boy and drank his tea and ate the bread, lifting his helmet only enough to do so.   

Below, Marathel had settled herself on Din’s bedroll and was using the black insulation foam as a base to felt the wool roving Cobb had bought for her.  Lacking a felting tool, she’d dug through all the drawers she had been able to open and found three pointy things that she tied together to make an ersatz stabber, as she called it.  She drafted the wool into little bits of fluff, which she spread in layers on the foam, using the three-pronged improvised tool to stab it into the foam over and over and over.  This part was very therapeutic, Marathel found.  As the wool felted together, she added more wool, flipping the piece over, stabbing it again and again to make a cloth, intending to give the finished cloths to the Bounty Hunter to polish his armor.   

Din had come down from the cockpit with Grogu; they’d found a few empty cups and a couple of bowls floating around the cockpit.  Din had expected to see Marathel leaning against the main corridor wall, sitting on the foam square, knitting.  Surprised to not see her immediately, he looked around before he noticed her sitting in his quarters. He tilted his helmet as he watched her repeatedly stab bits of wool — with great gusto — into the black foam.  Her vehemence in her task frightened him a little, as she stabbed, stabbed, stabbed whatever it was she had in her hand.  “What are you doing?” 

“I’m felting wool into cloth.” Stab, stab, stab. 

“Why?” 

“For you, to polish your armor.”  Stab, stab, stab. 

“I can buy that sort of thing.” 

“I’m sure you can. But I want to make these for you.”  Her tone told him she would brook no quarter. Stab, stab, stab.  Her eyes flicked up to his helmet.  Stab, stab, stab.   

Din wasn’t about to argue the point with her, not with that stabby tool thing she was wielding.  He did like seeing her in his bed, though.  “Do you have enough light in there?” 

She looked up at the overhead lights.  “It’s good enough for what I’m doing.  The floor is too uncomfortable for me right now,” said Marathel, her cheeks turning pink again.  She looked past Din’s legs and smiled.  “Just who I wanted to see.  Come here, my love.”  Grogu toddled in and hugged Marathel’s legs.  She picked up a folded knitted item and unfurled it, holding it up to his little body.  “Hmmm.  It might be a little big for him.  But he’ll grow into it.”  Marathel frowned and looked back up at Din.  “Will he grow into it?” 

Din shrugged.  “Your guess is as good as mine. I only recently found out he’s over fifty years old.” 

“Fifty?  Why, that would make him older than me, even!” 

“I understand that his people are slow-growing folks that live for a very long time.” 

“But that means …” Marathel’s face fell, and she caressed Grogu’s face. “He will be without you for much of his life.” 

Din crossed his arms and leaned against the door jamb, looking down to the floor.  “I suppose so.”  It had occurred to him as well.  He tried not to think about it much. 

“How old are you?” 

Din raised his eyes back to Marathel’s lovely face. “Well, going back and forth in hyperspace kind of muddies time, as opposed to staying on one planet.  But I’m somewhere around forty-two Basic years old.” 

“That makes me older than you,” said Marathel quietly.  “I am glad to know that you are not so much younger than me.” 

Din shrugged.  “Not by much, no.” And I am glad to know that you aren’t half my age … that would have skeeved me out.  I’m middle-aged.  I don’t need to be with someone so young as that … not like the place you came from. 

“Well, enough of that kind of talk.   Let’s see how this fits you, my little Godynferth!” Marathel fed Grogu’s arms into the sleeves of the little jacket, and she tied the attached belt around his waist.  “It’s a tiny bit long, but it looks good to me.  Show your father, little one.” 

With a pleased coo, Grogu turned to Din, holding out his little arms.  Din squatted down to Grogu’s level.  “Well, now, kid, I think you look like a proper Jedi.  I like it, Marathel, thank you.  He’s never complained about being cold, but a child should have cold weather gear.” 

“What do you do for cold weather gear?” 

“You’re looking at it.” 

Marathel frowned.  “Do you not get cold?” 

“I get cold.” 

This troubled Marathel. The thought I would knit you sweaters and cowls, weave you capes and blankets, anything I could make to keep you warm went unbidden through her head. 

Din cleared his throat, and stood, taking a step back from the doorway.  “I thought I should use the sonic myself.  Would you mind …?” 

Marathel blinked.  “Oh! Of course.  Just knock when I can come out.” She looked around her, realizing that Grogu had wandered off.  She called out, “Come here, Grogu, let me take that jacket off you … then you get to stay in here with Mama.” She had not directly called herself that before.  Not out loud. Oh, she thought to herself.  I never knew how much joy my heart could hold, just saying Mama, referring to myself. Did Din feel the same way, when Grogu became his son in his heart? 

And oh, when Din caught her eye after she had put the question to her mind, and Din knew as sure as anything that Marathel had just realized who she was. 

Grogu’s Mama. 

You’re Grogu’s Mama, Marathel.  And you’re going to leave him, because you’re holding on to some insane guilt over things that were done to you and not by you. I can think of no other reason you would willingly return there. Yet, I can’t not take you back; I must obey you because … you are my Dahl-mate? That is equally insane, my ma’mwsh ha’laa, so insane we should go somewhere uncharted and be crazy together.  

Din stepped back into his quarters and stood, looking down at Marathel.  She looked back at him, puzzled, asking, “What is it?” 

“We need to talk to each other,” said Din. 

“We have talked.” 

“No, we haven’t.” Din sat down at the other end of the bedroll, but still too close in the tiny room, where they’d already experienced so much intimacy when she was injured, unconscious, and naked, and he was gloveless, helmet-less, and out if his mind with concussion.   “You’ve talked.  You’ve talked at me.  You’ve told me the nightmare of your life, the humiliation and degradation you’ve suffered.   But then you tell me that I must return you to the source of your suffering, and that’s all there is to it.”  Din sighed, unsure where to start.  “May I hold your hand?” 

Marathel looked down at Din’s hand, covered by his glove.  She couldn’t think of a good reason not to hold his hand.  It was a reasonable request, and he was a man; therefore, she must obey him. But his hand was encased by fabric and leather.  Along with his forearm weapons, there was not a strip of bare skin exposed.  She supposed that he could make the argument that her hand was encased in metal springs, and therefore, just as non-tactile as his own hand.    

But what difference did the glove make, really?  His hand was still within — a strong and gentle hand, powerful, but still capable of tender touch, loving hands that held Grogu as well as fondled her. 

His hands, the gloves.   

Marathel raised her eyes to Din’s chest, protected by heavy armor.  She knew it was heavy; she’d felt the weight of it against her own body, and he carried both the armor and occasionally her.  But behind the armor was him, she knew there was flesh, flesh that was warm and yielding, carrying scars and marks and moles, flesh over muscle that had seen battles that ended in death and hands of others caressing him, pleasuring him, for he was a man and such pleasures were necessary; even her own hands had felt that flesh in an effort to please him as well as fill her own needs.  

His body, the armor. 

Raising her eyes even more, Marathel studied his helmet, planes and angles that disguised his face; and even though she knew he had brown hair and brown eyes and a mustache and facial hair, she longed to see those features, to solidify in her broken mind who he was, his eyes upon hers, to hopefully read in those brown eyes that he could see her, cracked, crumbled, chipped away to rubble, and so, so sad that she desperately needed a tender touch and the knowledge that even as unworthy as she was, that he trusted her enough, that he loved her enough, to supersede his words of love and trust with the sight of his own lips saying such things, and the touch of his lips on her, words, words meant nothing, she was too stupid to understand words, words almost always led to lies … 

“Marathel?”  Marathel blinked, shaking herself out of her thoughts.  “I only asked you to hold my hand; it wasn’t some sort of trick question,” he implored. 

Marathel dropped her eyes and went back to felting the wool, stabbing the fleece into the foam over and over.  “What did you need to say?” 

“I want you to explain to Grogu why you’re doing this.” 

“Doing what?  Felting wool?” 

Din took a deep breath; he wanted to keep his temper.  “Why you’re insisting I take you back.”  Marathel stopped her stabbing motion.  “Because you haven’t explained it to me at all, and I want to hear you explain it to him, so maybe I can possibly understand.”   

Marathel set aside her project and primly folded her hands in her lap. “I’d be happy to speak to Grogu.  Shall I do it now?” 

Din was surprised, as he thought she would either belay an explanation or refuse to do it altogether.  He looked over his shoulder and saw Grogu, still in his little knitted robe, sitting in the doorway, eating a hunk of bread.  “Hey kid, Marathel would like to speak to you.” 

Grogu got up and toddled over to Marathel, holding out his bread crust to her.  Marathel smiled and took the proffered crust, bobbed her head, and murmured, “Thank you, my love,” and ate the bit of bread, while Din was both surprised and overwhelmed that Grogu shared food with her, as if sharing food was a commonplace thing for him, because it certainly wasn’t. “Come up here, little one,” she said, lifting him onto her legs so Grogu could sit on her.  “You may not know this, but your father is taking me back to the planet I came from.  Remember?  You met me there, in my little hut, where we played poosticks, and picked flowers, and you and Patu went fishing?” 

Grogu made an affirmative coo, and Marathel continued.  “Well, we’re going back there, but what will happen is that I will stay there, and you and Patu will go on flying on your adventure, and I will not be with you.” 

Grogu frowned, his ears drooping. 

“Remember, when I said goodbye to you before?  I thought you would be leaving me behind then.  But I was so badly hurt, and your father did not want to leave me behind like that.  I didn’t know your father took me away with you.  And I am sorry that you had to see me so hurt, and that you had to help me breathe when I was so sick.  I know you also helped my hands, and I thank you so much for that. You gave me back my hands, you clever boy! 

“Unfortunately, I am still sick.  I am very, very sick.  But I’m not sick in my lungs, or in my hands.  I’m sick here …” — Marathel indicated her head — “… and here …” — Marathel put her hand over her heart.  “The sickness, the pain I have there is not an illness that can be healed by the tiny hands of a little green boy with large ears.  It’s a sickness that I can’t ever recover from.  It’s a hurt that can’t be fixed.  And when there’s something that can’t be fixed, well, then, it must be left behind.  

“I’m sure you’ve seen Patu leave things that can’t be fixed.  Parts of this ship, a blaster, something.  But this time, it’s me that must be left behind.”  Grogu’s face fell, and he looked down to his little feet until Marathel put her finger under his chin and lifted his face up again. “Grogu, you need to know that I’m okay with that.  That is what I want.  I want to be left behind, so my sickness won’t affect you or your Patu.   

“I know this is hard to understand.  I know I can’t properly explain why this is so necessary to me.  But I need you to remember that this was my decision.  And if for no other reason than that, I need for that decision to be honored by you, honored by your Patu.  I’ve had so little honor given to me, Grogu, and whether my decision is good, or bad, or indifferent, it was my decision to make.  

“But I don’t want you to worry about me.  I will be all right when you and Patu leave.  I will be sad, of course.  I will be very sad.  And you will be sad, too, I know.  You may be very sad.  And it’s okay for you to be sad.  But you have much to do.  You must grow up, and live a wonderful life, and have many exciting adventures with your father.  And I want you to enjoy the amazing life you’re going to have, flying here and there, meeting all kinds of people … probably making things blow up …” Marathel laughed.  “Wherever you are, I will be thinking of you.  When you look up at the night sky, and you see all those stars, and planets, that will be me keeping an eye on you!  I’ve been so proud to be your Mama!  And perhaps, someday, you may have a new Mama to go along with your Patu, or … even maybe another Patu, who knows?”  Marathel looked up at Din, thinking of Cobb.  She knew.  She just did.  “Someone will make your father so happy, and that’s what we all want, is for Patu and Grogu to be happy.  Happy, and safe. 

“And … I will be happy too, to know that you are happy, and safe.  No matter how sick I am, no matter how much I hurt in my heart and in my mind, I will always be happy that I met you and your father.  I will always be happy to think of the three of us having fun in that little hut, having little, tiny adventures amongst ourselves.  Even if you believe you had far too many baths. 

“I will miss you so much.  You will be in my heart forever.  Rwy’n di’rugar, my love,” said Marathel, her voice crackling, and she picked up Grogu and hugged him tightly, kissing his little face. 

Drawing back, Marathel smiled at Grogu with tears in her eyes.  “I think that went well, don’t you?  Yes, I think that went well.  I hope you understand a little better why this is happening, love, yes?  Yes.” 

Grogu patted her cheek, cooing sadly.  Then he pointed back at Din.  Marathel gazed into his dark visor and sighed.  “Yes, I will miss Patu as well. He has been a good friend to me.  My first friend, actually.  Your father will also be in my heart forever. I know he’s having a very hard time leaving me behind.    Someday, he may understand why he must leave me behind, but even if he doesn’t, I hope he knows that I will never regret a single moment I spent with him.  Even when I threw eggs at him.  Or called him names.” 

“What about not telling me about the depth of the mud I had to slog through?” asked Din. 

“Oh, that … I wanted to get back at you for laughing at me.” 

Din chuckled briefly, and then reached over to gently ruffle Grogu’s hair, moving his hands closer to her. “Marathel, I don’t think you’re sick.  I don’t think you’re so damaged that you can’t be fixed, or that you can’t be helped.  Doctors and therapists are out there.  I can find you someone if you would just let me.” 

Marathel felt trapped by the armored man before her, and she wondered if that was his intention.  She returned her attention to Grogu.  “Grogu, do you understand what I am asking of you?  Will you please honor my decision?” 

“You can’t ask him that.  He’s just a child.” 

“Grogu is wiser than I will ever be.” 

“All the more reason to not take you back, Marathel! I can’t, in good conscience, leave a woman having a nervous breakdown alone in the wilderness!” 

“I’m not having a breakdown!” cried Marathel. 

“Then you should!” shouted Din. He dropped his head.  “I’m sorry, mesh’la, I’m sorry, ad’ika, I shouldn’t have yelled.  I am upset, because … because I don’t have much time left to convince you to not leave me.”  He reached for Grogu.  “Kid, would you please give Mama and me some privacy?  We need to … grown-up talk.” Grogu bleated and jumped off Marathel’s lap and toddled out of the tiny room, patting Din’s arm as he went, which both adults noticed with mild amusement, wondering just how much Grogu was able to understand the angst the grown-ups were creating for themselves. 

Din and Marathel looked at each other. He took a breath, then reached to shut the door. 

“Din …” 

He moved his hand along the wall, and turned off the lights, and then a third switch shut off even the tiny red and green panel lights, leaving the tiny room in full darkness. Marathel gasped, and Din said, “Mesh’la, I need you to trust me … I must do this this way.” Focusing on the low-light image in his visor, he moved closer to her, reaching for her hands in the darkness, and she pushed herself against the wall behind her. “Please, Marathel, I …” She kept pulling her hands loose, whimpering, fearful.  Din pulled off his gloves, and then, his helmet, saying, “Marathel.” 

Marathel fell still at the sound of his voice, unmodulated, and she forgot to breathe.  Din reached for her hand again, their fingertips touching before she drew her hand back. “Marathel, ma’mwsh ha’laa, I don’t know what to do about you.  I don’t understand why you won’t let me love you.  I don’t understand why you insist on destroying yourself.” He sighed.  “I don’t know how else to say that I don’t care who your biological parents are.  I don’t know how else to tell you that those reprehensible things done to you don’t make you a whore. Those things only matter to me because of the pain they cause you.”   

Din got up to his knees and moved even closer to Marathel, gently pushing down on her knees so that he could straddle her legs, resting part on his weight on her, pinning her in place again like he had against the kitchen wall of the palace, and he hated that he kept trapping her this way.  He lifted her hands to his face, saying, “I can’t show you my face.  This is the way.  This is the only … allowable way for me to be without my helmet around you.  And even then, this is still … difficult.  Attachments outside the covert, attachments of any kind are not discouraged, but … neither are they encouraged.” He still held her trembling hands.  “I’ve told you I love you, both in Basic and in my own language, remember?  I said to you, ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, when we were together that night.  ‘I will know you forever,’ that’s what that really means, mesh’la, I will have you in my heart forever just as you will have Grogu in your heart forever.  Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, ner kar’ta, cyar’e.  I love you, my heart, my beloved …” Din kissed her splinted fingers.  “And you said something back.  What did you say back to me?” 

“Fi ng’riad, d’lwch fi, chi yd’w fi,” said Marathel, her voice unsteady. 

“What does that mean?” 

“‘Love me, hold me, I am yours.’” 

“But it doesn’t really mean that, does it, mesh’la?  I can’t possibly believe that there’s a word for love in the Hold. Not with what they do there to women, to children.  I’m sure you say that at a very specific time; you have ceremonial words for every moment you women must endure, there’s a verse in that only song for every occasion, so when do you say that, Marathel, what does it really mean?” 

“It means … ‘I am yours to take and ruin.’” 

Din’s heart broke a little more.  “And when are you supposed to say that?” 

“When the girl presents herself to her Elder as a Whyn just before he takes her … fully.” 

“And you said this … to me?” 

Marathel sobbed and pulled her hands away.  “I had no other words to give you.  I knew you had said something very important to me, and I had to say something!” 

“But what do you feel, Marathel?” 

“I don’t know!” 

Din sat back on his heels, sighing, sure she was lying.  He rubbed his face with his hands.  “Back on Unmanarall, when you asked me to remove my helmet … if I had, would you have changed your mind about going to the Hold?” 

“No.” 

“If …” Din’s voice broke, and he had to clear his throat.  “If I revealed my face to you now, knowing that I love you, Marathel, my ma’mwsh ha’laa … would you stay with me?  Would it make a difference?” 

“… No.” 

At that moment, Din would rather have been sliced in two by the Darksaber.  Desperate now, he pleaded, “What if … then … not with me, then … Stay at the palace, on Nevarro, somewhere, anywhere, where I know I can reach you, see you, know you’re safe …” He found her face in the darkness and pressed his forehead to hers.  “Somewhere Grogu can see you, please, ner kar’ta, my heart, please, please, don’t make that boy lose his Mama!” 

“Din, please …” sobbed Marathel. 

“Stay, yes, or no?” 

“... No.” 

Din wanted to weep.  He reached behind him to find his gloves and his helmet.   Standing, he put his helmet back on, and opened the door to the tiny room, revealing Grogu on the other side, looking sadly back up at him.  “Gangway, Grogu,” he said, listlessly, and he climbed up the ladder into the cockpit, shutting the door behind him. 

Marathel sobbed into her hands, hating herself for what she was doing.  She felt Grogu’s tiny hand touch her knee.  “Oh, Grogu, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for hurting Patu like that.” She held Grogu as she shifted them both to a prone position on their sides, facing each other.  Marathel began stroking Grogu’s ear with her thumb. “Someday, he may forgive me, but if he never does, I will accept that.  I’d rather he hate me forever.”  

Grogu’s sad eyes bore into hers.  “Patu Mama,” he said sternly. 

“Patu … Mama?” asked Marathel, confused. 

Grogu put his hands together, wrapping his tiny fingers around each other.  “Patu … Mama.”  Marathel blinked tears from her eyes, then nodded. Repeating the hand motions, Grogu asked, “Mama … Patu?” 

Marathel’s eyes went wide, then shut tight for a few moments.  Opening her eyes, she whispered, “Yes, my little child.  Mama Patu.”  Marathel smiled through her tears.  “Mama loves Patu with all her heart.”   

She couldn’t speak after that for a few moments. Finally, she was able to say, “Grogu, my sweet, it’s because I love your father so that I must be left behind.  I’m damaged, and I’m no good.  He deserves someone so much better than me.   What I am, no matter where I go, will bring him only shame and misery.  I’m the wrong woman, and what I’ve done will be found out; I know now how people will talk behind my back.  I heard the whispering in the palace.  Patu is well-respected everywhere he goes, he must be.  I can’t be the reason he loses respect in his covert, his … well, wherever a Bounty Hunter may belong. And I don’t belong anywhere, anyplace that’s good. 

“People don’t understand a person like me, they will judge me for what I’ve done, what was done to me, who I am. And they will judge your father for caring about me. And I refuse to bring that judgement upon Patu.” 

Grogu grunted, shook his fists and said, “Patu Mama! Mama Patu!” 

“Oh, Grogu, if only it could be so, I wish it could.  But this is the way.” 

Grogu frowned and put his hand on Marathel’s chin, and she immediately felt a little sleepy.  “Grogu is putting me to sleep again, I think.  Did you want me to tell you a bedtime story, little one?”  Marathel yawned.  “I will tell you my version of how I met your father. 

“When I first saw him, the sunlight was reflecting off his armor almost straight into my eyes, and I thought he was one of the Mothers Who Went Before coming for me, coming to take me away and up into the night sky.  And then I thought, no, I don’t want to go! So, I had to throw a rock to chase Patu away.  

“I had wanted the Mothers Who Went Before to come take me away.  I wished for it, prayed to Frith for it.  But when I thought they had appeared, I begged to stay!  And when I realized it was a person, a man I had never seen before, I was afraid, but somehow, I knew that he would not hurt me, that I was safe with him. I knew a stranger to me would be the first man to treat me well.” Marathel smiled at Grogu, stroking his cheek with her thumb.  “And Patu brought me you.  How could I not love him?”  She felt sad yet happy that she revealed the truth to Grogu.  But as she fell asleep — and whether it was Grogu putting her to sleep or the emotional exhaustion hitting her was immaterial — Marathel mumbled, “But there’s no point.” 

Grogu got up from where he lay next to Marathel.  He gently pressed his forehead to hers, like Patu would do.  Just like Patu would do to him.  Then Grogu sighed, and toddled out to the corridor, where he sat down with a tiny grunt, looking back and forth from the open quarters to the closed cockpit door. 

Grogu was frustrated.  Grogu had a hard time understanding why Patu and Mama could not just love Mama and Patu!  Grogu wished Patu would kiss Mama again.  Grogu had seen other people kiss before.  Grogu knew kissing made other people happy.  Grogu had been happy when Patu had been happy with Ohmeh. Grogu had been sad that Patu did not kiss Ohmeh.  Grogu was happy Patu kissed Mama. Grogu changed Mahr to Mama because Patu kissed Mama. Grogu was happy Patu became happy again.   

Grogu was sad that Mama was sad.  Grogu could see that Mama was hurt in a lot of places.  Grogu wondered why someone hurt Mama.  Grogu was mad that someone hurt Mama. Grogu wanted to help Mama.  Grogu had helped Patu and friends of Patu.   

Grogu did not understand why Mama did not want help from Grogu. Grogu did not understand why Mama was so dark inside head of Mama.  Grogu was sad Mama was so dark inside head of Mama.  

Grogu could not fix Mama. 

Grogu could not fix inside head of Mama. 

Grogu was sad. 

Grogu looked down at the floor and sighed.  He thought for a while, and while he sat and thought, he began picking up his favorite colors of the glitter on the floor — gold, silver, and green — and made them float and swirl before his eyes.  After a while, Grogu put the glitter down, and he called out to the Force, looking for friends that might make Mama less sad.  And if Mama was less sad, then maybe Patu would be less sad, too. 

It was a few hours later that Marathel heard Din calling her.  Climbing up out of her troubled sleep, she said, “Mmmmm … what?” 

“Marathel?  Wake up.” 

Not wanting another round of Din’s pressure, Marathel muttered, “Why?” 

“You need to see this.” Marathel frowned at Din but let him help her up.  She followed him stiffly up the ladder to the cockpit, where he beckoned her to stand at the console, where Grogu was sitting, looking up and out of the view screen.  Din pointed above his head.  “Look.” 

Marathel stood where Din indicated, and looked up to see not just one Purrgil, but many.  She gasped and put her hand to her mouth. 

“I don’t know how many there are,” said Din.  “I got up to twelve, and more kept coming.  I can’t see them all to count them.  They are all around the Crest.”  A single Purrgil, much smaller than the one Marathel had seen while on the transport, moved closer, almost as if she was trying to peer into the cockpit.  “A few have done that, too.  I’ve never heard of a Purrgil doing that before.” The Purrgil bellowed, the vibration rumbling the floor of the cockpit, and they could see the closest of the Purrgils nodding their heads.  Din turned to look at Marathel’s enraptured face.  “It looks like they were waiting for you,” he whispered, carefully reaching for her hand.   

Marathel jumped, looked down at her hand, her pinky finger wrapped with his.  She quickly shifted her eyes back up on the Purrgils above her … but she reached with her other fingers to capture the rest of his hand. Din lifted his other hand to Grogu’s back, and they stood that way for a long time.  Eventually, Din wrapped his arm around Grogu, lifting the child up against him. Din stepped back and took a seat on his captain’s chair, still holding Marathel’s hand as she dropped her eyes from the Purrgils and turned to look at him.  He gently tugged on her hand, and she allowed him to seat her on his lap. Din reached to recline the seat back, but it fell too quickly and Marathel nearly somersaulted off the back of the chair, and she laughed while Din cursed his rotten luck. Of all times to be a klutz, he thought.  I couldn’t be suave if my life depended on it! 

“This is ridiculous,” said Marathel.  “I’m too heavy; I’ll squish you.” 

“No, you won’t.” Even if she cut off his circulation and his legs fell off, he wouldn’t care.  Din put his feet up on the console, her legs already entwined with his. 

“Then I’ll break your chair.” 

“Unlikely.”  Even if their combined weight broke this chair, he had two more in this very cockpit.  Chairs were replaceable.  Din guided Marathel to lay back against him and tucked her head under the edge of his helmet. 

“This many Purrgil could destroy your ship.” 

“Then I will die with my clan in my arms,” said Din. 

Marathel’s heart ached.   She tried to blink back her tears, but failed.  Then she realized she could feel his body under hers.  “Did you remove your armor?” 

“Yes.” 

Marathel couldn’t help but smirk.  “You felt safe enough to remove your armor around me?” 

“It was a calculated risk.” 

“And you assumed you could get me on your lap.” 

Din stroked her arm.  “And I love you best, Marathel, when you open your sweet mouth and say things like that.”  

He was right of course, for Marathel felt the same way about him.  She didn’t speak again, but remained there in his chair, on his lap, along with Grogu, watching the Purrgil fly all around them.  The Purrgil continued to accompany the small ship through hyperspace, watching over the clan of three. 

You Were Marked: Next Chapter ->

[trytofic]

Bad Luck

This one is a bit spooky, more sad. So if you want happy, there isn't really any, not in this one anyway.

Ao3

Day 13: Bad Luck

Nightmares about past mistakes can make waking up with your partner unintentionally hard.

Heavy breathing and heavy footsteps are all he can feel as he rushed through the destroyed city. He dodged infected after infected, looking for the people he cared for. He jumps from a swipe of claws and nearly gets bitten by the infected mobians. He tries to yell for them, but his throat is dry and hoarse. He hears a familiar flap of wings and turns to see Rouge kicking away the zombots, her eyes meet his and suddenly she is tackled to the ground, her body starting to turn to metal. She reaches toward him, but he knows they can’t touch. His hands shake and he can feel tears threatening to fall.

So, he runs and tries to find help from Tails or Sonic. He hears a yell and sees Sonic out of breath on the ground. He had been running for days, the infection finally taking over, and he jumped at Shadow. He needed to stay on his feet or else he could get infected. He nearly trips over something, and he looks down to see pieces of Omega’s body strewn about, his friend. He can’t breathe. It felt as though smoke were filling his lungs, he was suffocating.

“Shadow!” Its Amy. She needs him. He dashes through rubble and screams, his girlfriend is somewhere, but where?

When he stops running, he finds an empty area. He coughs, holding his throat as he can barely let Amy’s name out. He can’t lose her too. He can’t have failed them all. He rushes to the area and the sight of pink catches his eye, he has a moment of relief until he hears her crying and screaming. He can see her shoulder changing color, sees the metal growing on her body. When their eyes meet Shadow can’t help but see her tears slowly stop as her face becomes covered in the infection.

She rushes at him, hammer in hand and a growl from her throat. He barely manages to dodge as the hammer breaks the ground apart below them. He tries to speak, tries to act, yet all he ends up doing is running.

“You couldn’t protect her either.” A soft voice spoke in his ear and when he turned, he felt Amy scratch along his face. She stood before him as he felt the cold metal begin to cling to him. “You’re nothing but bad luck to everyone around you.” He squeezed his eyes tight and blocked his ears with his hands, the voice was wrong. It had to be!

A gunshot is heard and he sees Maria’s body on the ground before him her hand outstretched to him. In a blink, Maria had faded and Amy was who reached for him. His love. He wanted to reach for her until his vision went dark. He couldn’t feel anything but the cold metal covering his body.

With a loud gasp, he shot up in his bed, tears streaming down his face, and he began to hyperventilate. He couldn’t unsee his nightmare. His fears from his losses and his fears of his losses repeating. He feared he really was bad luck to all those he cared about. His blankets began to itch on his body, throwing them to the floor, he tried to regain his composure.

“Shadow?” He looked to his side to see Amy kneeling on the bed next to him. Her eyes were clouded with sleep, she looked so scared. He simply held onto her, trying to get his breathing under control, with no luck. Just like him. Just bad luck.

[yanderegrizzsworld]

Can you do a romantic yandere neo metal sonic with a immortal reader please

Yandere Neo Metal Sonic: We'll be Gods (Romantic Drabble)

TW/CW: Manipulation & implied anxiety

A.N: A treat for a happy one year anniversary

You pace along the decaying wall with clenched hands, the scent of metal hitting your nose among the rest of the damp moss & earthy scenery around you. You halt momentarily as your eyelids felt heavy & you muscles began to feel sore, the buzzing & scuttling from outside catches your attention briefly before resuming your steps once more. Scraps of metal & wire rest among the floor, scattered about as if no one bothered to pick them up, tiny bugs pace about absent-mindedly before you give the mess of robot parts a gentle kick, you watch as the insects dispel with no sense of where to go.

Upon looking ahead of you, a metal door of which its paint has since become jaded & lost its color is visibly seen. Random vines wrap themselves around the door as flower petals litter among the ground infront of the entrance as the roots of the petals origin seem to have died long ago seemingly from the lack of sunlight. Scratches & dents become clearer to see as you approach it with cautious steps, faint sounds cam be heard behind the door echoing down the hall, each step switching between booming & close to low & distant.

Lifting your arm above your head, a plangent thud booms within the stark building, making your ears ring painfully before dialing down slowly. Whatever noise that could be heard from the other side had ceased, allowing the sounds of nature outside to be heard. Creaks pierce harshly against your eardrums, a wince escaping your throat as you step back with both hands covering your ears.

Not a source of light could be seen from the crack of the door nor any noise emitted from within, coolness drips down your cheek suddenly, making you swipe the back of your hand against your cheek, the same coolness now felt on your cheek. "Come inside" the abrupt voice from within the room arised a shriek that got caught in your throat, rugged coughing echoed down the hall, bouncing against the walls like a ping ping ball against a paddle.

A radiance of light catches you eye, a metal hand emerges from the darkness within as if tempting you to move in. "Come now" It's tone utters purpose & comes off more as a demand rather than an invitation, the hand stretching out slightly more, expecting you to comply. You take cautious steps towards the door, lifting your arm until you feel the frigid touch of the robotic hand against your palm.

It gently tugs at your hand, wishing for you to enter the unkown. You place your other hand by the door as you slowly enter passed the door, light from outside could be spotted shining in through the holes high on the ceiling & walls, revealing specks of nature & more scraps of metal & wires littering the ground. "You're quite late, you know" Loud steps echo around the room as bright blue emerges from the shadows, it's body lustering when it walked into the holes of light.

"I did?" You slouch a bit, observing the robot treaded towards you calmly as if each step was carefully planned out, you scratch your arm for a moment, "I guess I...didn't notice" You glance away from it every few seconds, though its crimson eyes never look away. It stops right in front of you, the fact it doesn't seem to blink unnerves you to your core, "Your clothes" It raises its hand & grabs a fistful of your shirt, you grab onto the robot's arm with both hands from the sudden action. "When was the last time you've washed it, hm?"

"Oh, I just...I didn't really have time" the bot loosens its grip on your shirt as you lower one arm down completely to your side.

"No time? Some as..." Its eyes gaze away as if pondering on what to say next, you release your shirt from its grip, patting down your shirt with a low gruff. "Eternal...as you, have no time?" You'd like to believe that its tone would nearly mocking if it weren't for it sound one-note. "This matters not at the moment, nor is it the reason I've called for you" You narrow your eyes slightly in confusion, yet when you tried to take a step back, the bot grabbed a hold of your arm.

"You're the one the called for me?" It merely nods its head, allowing you to see the streak of silver above its head before its eyes gaze at you again. "My master & everyone around me used to call me Metal Sonic" you only hum in response realizing you've never asked for the stranger's name, "But in this form..." Its hand lowers down you arm until its metallic palm is holding you hand, lifting it to where both of you can see it. "I am Neo Metal Sonic"

The way each word is said is as if it were a fact, something you decide not to question. "& while I wait for my master, you & I can lead as Gods for the time being" Gods? You wish you could utter a laugh at what you're hearing, before you can let a word leave your mouth, Metal Sonic reaches from behind him & you brace yourself, ready incase of him going to abruptly attack you, but instead are met with a glowing crystal in the shape of a diamond.

Its wine-like color glowed against Metal Sonic's surface, nearly matching that of his eyes. "Ever seen one before? It's a chaos emerald" The glow fades & resurfaces slowly, you gingerly caress the emerald, the coldness radiating off of it upon contact is close enough to cause goosebumps. "Uh...What did you...when you said..." You masticate your inner cheek, unsure if it was to process what the bot stated or to distract you from the cold of the emerald.

Neo hastily snatches your hand & tugs you forward as he begins to walk behind him like a parent holding onto their child, making you nearly fall from its sudden action. "I see your confusion dear" the faith illumination of the emerald can be barely seen from Neo holding it in front of his vision, its luster presumably brighter than before. "But I trust that with time, you'll understand, eventually"

"You & I, we will be regarded as Gods" It grip on your arm tightens, though you hardly react to it, both curious & fearful when you process what Neo's saying, dreading when everything will get out of hand from Metal Sonic choosing to play God.

"Understand what exactly...!?" Neo keeps quiet, whether not hearing you deliberately or not is unclear to you, "That's something you shouldn't worry for now" You hardly pay attention to any words it says, your chest feels heavy as if someone were putting their entire weight on you. "With this & the others remaining" Its voice, though low, booms in your skull like a harsh drum, you cough when the heaviness in your chest gets too much to handle, something that Neo pays no mind to.

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

Dave: so im at buc-ees right. weekly occurrence now apparently. and im about to pass out from goddamn exhaustion because ive been up since 3 am, it is now 3 pm, and i ran out of monster about noon. so i go all the way to the right side of this fucking oversized ass gas station because thats where they keep the drinks. and on the way over there i nearly get run over by two preps, a grandma, and my own brother. all seperate occurances. but i finally get over to the coolers and they do not have a single good flavor of monster except for the white monsters. so i go to grab one and then i look slightly down and i see sonic the hedgehog. i was not expecting to see sonic the hedgehog. i was caught extremely off guard by seeing sonic the hedgehog. can you tell how surprised i was to see sonic the hedgehog. he was on a can of gfuel. so what do i do in this situation? i get the sonic gfuel. what the fuck am i supposed to do. not get it? anyways the can is cold as fuck. like painful to hold levels of cold. which makes sense. it is refrigerated metal. but i have to wait for dirk and june because neither i nor june can drive and so here i am, standing around the buc-ees with a can of sonic the painhog, and my brother dirk walks up with a box of tissues and some cough drops. who the fuck buys that at a gas station. now i should mention; every time i have ever spoken to him while inside of a buc-ees he mentions at least once during the conversation that if slash when we make first contact with aliens, we should bring them to buc-ees because this is what humanity is. which no. its what capitalism is. but anyway. june finally emerges from the bathrooms and dirk waves the fucking box of tissues in the air to get her attention. and just as she looks over, i grab my can of sonic and lift it up to show her, and right as she realizes it's us the fucking can decides to jump out of my hand and catapult itself to the floor. anyways it's like 12 hours later and i am still drinking that exact same can of gfuel (it is completely flat) (and goddamn it does not taste good flat) unrelated but my room smells like burnt chicken and i cant figure out where the fuck its coming from. why am i writing this

[salemruinseverything]

so im at buc-ees right. weekly occurrence now apparently. and im about to pass out from goddamn exhaustion cause ive been up since 3 am, it's now 3 pm, and i ran out of monster about noon. so i go all the way to the right side of this fucking oversized ass gas station because thats where they keep the drinks. and on the way over there i nearly get run over by two preps, a grandma, and my own father. all seperate occurances. but i finally get over to the coolers and they do not have a single good flavor of monster except for the white monsters. so i go to grab one and then i look slightly down and i see sonic the hedgehog. i was not expecting to see sonic the hedgehog. i was caught extremely off guard by seeing sonic the hedgehog. can you tell how surprised i was to see sonic the hedgehog. he was on a can of gfuel. so what do i do in this situation? i get the sonic gfuel. what the fuck am i supposed to do. not get it? anyways the can is cold as fuck. like painful to hold levels of cold. which makes sense. it is refrigerated metal. but i have to wait for my parents because i cannot drive and so here i am, standing around the buc-ees with a can of sonic the painhog, and my dad walks up with a box of tissues and some cough drops. who the fuck buys that at a gas station. now i should mention; every time i have ever spoken to him while inside of a buc-ees he mentions at least once during the conversation that if slash when we make first contact with aliens, we should bring them to buc-ees because this is what humanity is. which no. its what capitalism is. but anyway. my mom finally emerges from the bathrooms and my dad waves the fucking box of tissues in the air to get her attention. and just as she looks over, i grab my can of sonic and lift it up, and right as she realizes it's us the fucking can decides to jump out of my hand and catapult itself to the floor. anyways it's like 12 hours later and i am still drinking that exact same can of gfuel (it is completely flat) (and goddamn it does not taste good flat) unrelated but my room smells like burnt chicken and i can't figure out where the fuck it's coming from. why am i writing this

[spiinsparks]

    DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH THEM STARTERS / @badnikbreaker​ / ACCEPTING !

<  we keep eachother safe.  it’s my turn to protect you.  >  from ava and obviously signing but like the way i format sign breaks asks so just dont worry abt it

        IT  WAS  A  PAIN  TO ADMIT ,  but  sonic  knew  he  wasn’t  nearly  as  up  to  speed  as  the  resistance  seemed  to  think  he  was  ,  sometimes.  he  fatigued  quicker.  lost  his  breath  ,  sooner.  

          not  that  he  blamed  them  ,  for  failing  to  notice.  so  QUICK  he  had  been  ,  to  take  up  missions  immediately  after  escape.  so  ADAMANT  he  still  was  ,  to  continue.  to  PRESS  ON  and  ENDURE.  to  fight  until  this  war  was  won.  

          he  couldn’t  -  wouldn’t  -  let  them  see  their  rising  ember  of  hope  flickering  ,  spluttering  ,  struggling  to  KEEP  UP  with  the  demands  of  war.  he’d  catch  up  ,  he  told  himself  ,  as  he  ran  from  battlefield  to  battlefield  with  the  raging  fury  of  a  man  gone  mad.  he’d  get  back  into  his  old  swing  ,  he  reassured  himself  ,  as  the  days  dragged  on  and  eggman’s  beloved  schedule  waged  war  against  sonic’s  own  internal  clock.  weeks  in  ,  and  he  was  still  out  of  sync.  completely  out  of  wack.

        (  he’d  spent  too  long  locked  up.  )

             and  there  was  NO  TIME  to  readjust.  to  ease  himself  back  into  what  was  NEEDED.  

                                                                      what  was  EXPECTED.

            still.  when  the  world  needed  their  hero  -  when  his  FRIENDS  needed  him  most  -  he  was  —  (   coughing  against  the  strain  /  the  weight  of  lungs  too  heavy.  rising  ,  shakily  ,  onto  his  feet  again.  dirt  and  dust  and  blood  and  grime  matting  his  fur  ,  sinking  into  his  quills  ,  staining  the  white  straps  of  his  shoes  a  ruddy  red.  trembling  from  overexertion.  )  GRITTING  HIS  TEETH  and  smirking.  (   ❝  I  SEE  DOC  HASN’T  IMPROVED  YOUR  AIM  ANY.  ❞  )  laughing -  in  the  face  of  danger (  or  maybe  ,  because  of  it.  )  while  pain  racketed  through  his  body  and  flattened  his  ears  against  his  head. (  ❝  MAYBE  YOU   SHOULD  TRY  ONE  OF  THEM  OPTOMETRISTS.  I’VE  HEARD  THEY  SPECIALIZE  IN  OPTICS.  ❞  )

         he  had  SKID  across  the  battlefield  ,  quills  trembling  in  the  wind  as  the  badnik  he  was  tangoing  with  whirred  and  turned  its  oversized  body  towards  him  ,  ready  to  lock  aim  and  fire.  and  he  grinned  at  its  giant  ,  red  optic  as  the  laser  beam  centered  over  his  chest.  sniffed.  wiped  his  nose.  readied  himself  to  SPIN  DASH  into  its  chest  and  crash  through  its  gears  and  wires.

         but  in  blazing  light  of  golden  electricity  the  bot  EXPLODED  in  a  crackling  storm. twisted  metal  sheets  ,  oil  ,  glass  and  dirt  sprayed  across  the  floor  as  the  badnik  spilled  its  carnage.  and  sonic  only  had  a  moment  to  wheeze  his  sigh  of  relief  before  the  next  wave  thundered  the  ground  beneath  their  feet.  he  DASHED  FORWARD  ,  grabbing  ava  by  the  wrist  and  retreating  further  down  the  twisting  road.  but  not  far.  

       a   poorly  placed  rock.             a  yelp  ,  as  pain  rocketed  through  his  left  leg  and  sonic  stumbled  and  slowed.  the  robots  still  thundered  behind  ,  RED  LASERS  bursting  the  air  beside  the  pair  before  ava  shot  out  her  grappling  hook  and  swung  them  both into  the  trees  and  undergrowth  for  cover.

            and  for  a  moment  ,  he  could  catch  his  breath.  even  as  they  rounded  on  him  with  lips  pressed  thin  and  ears  flopping  over  their  shoulder  as  they  knelt  and  looked  him  over.  then  ,  signed  ,  hurriedly  ,  with  a  DETERMINED  FIRE  in  their  eyes.

             <   we keep eachother safe.  it’s my turn to protect you.  >  

          sonic  blinked.  they  were  throwing  his  words  right  back  at  him.

             and  for  a  moment  -  brief  and  small  -  there  was  a  tide  of  comfort  that  came  flooding  forth.  the  same  sort  of  calm  in  the  storm  that  kept  sonic’s  head  on  straight  ,  his  heart  in  his  chest  ,  when  he  was  fighting  alongside  amy  or  tails  or  knuckles.  no  danger  was  too  great  when  he  was  adventuring  with  his  friends.  no  obstacle  too  heavy  ,  or  too  large  to  overcome  ,  when  he  hadn’t  a  shadow  of  a  doubt  that  they  were  with  him.

          (  he’d  never  been  meant  to  fight  on  his  own.  )

                          (  he  wasn’t  built  for  it.  for  THIS.  )

      (  and  where  was  the  FUN  of  the  rush  —  when  they  didn’t  fight  TOGETHER?  )

         ❝ ...  you’re  right.  ❞  he  said  ,  nodding  slight.  over  ava’s  shoulder  he  studied  the  trajectory  of  newest  enemy  fleet.  they’d  get  to  the  resistance  outpost  he and  ava  were  sent  out  to  hold  within  MINUTES  if  they  didn’t  handle  this.  —  and  fast.

      sonic  lifted  himself  to  his  feet.  (  nevermind  the  grunt  of  pain  he  bit  down  upon.  nevermind  how  the  world  keeled  to  one  side  ,  just  briefly ,  before  sonic  closed  his  eyes  and  righted  himself.  and  nevermind  how  he  favored  one  leg  ,  even  as  he  bounced  on  the  tips  of  his  toes.  eager  to  finish  this.  eager  to  get  out  there  and  run.  )

            ❝  i  still  have  enough  juice  left  in  me  to  play  support  ;  give  ya  a  boost.  sound  fair?  ❞  a  rhetorical  question.  as  ,  with  a  spitfire  crackle  of  renewed  vigor  lighting  up  in  his  eyes  ,  sonic  held  out  his  outstretched  hand.  preparing.  bracing.  readying  himself  —  for  just  one  more  boost.

          ❝  i’ll  keep  you  steady.  but  ,  you’ve  got  this  ,  partner. ❞

[padmsanakin]

Rules: Pick any 10 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the midpoint, pick a line (or a few), and share it! Then tag people! (If you don't have 10, that's okee! Just post what you can! <3)

@purrfectlypunny tagged me so thanks!

tagging: @kingdomofheroes @felixarc131 @bocadelicate @ck2k18 @its-me-ej @awesome-fangirl33 and anyone who wants to try it :)

tales of the miraculous— a twin au version of miraculous with a few tweaks and pv concepts. basically, very self indulgent.

excerpt from episode iv, love fighter

There was a clang as if something— or rather, someone— was jabbing something onto the metal of the manhole. There was a piercing, scratching, creaking noise.

Chat Noir’s eyes flattened over his head as Ladybug winced.

It sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Felix felt like his tympanum was going to rupture.

Scritch.

Scritch.

Clang.

Something had broken through the manhole. Ladybug jumped almost immediately, alert.

A beam of light appeared as Chat Noir looked at it as if it were offending him. The manhole shattered into shards of metal and sploshed into the sewer water. Ladybug’s heart sputtered to a stop.

“We’ve got to leave! Now!” Ladybug grabbed Felix and Chat Noir one arm each and raced forward, water splashed at her feet and it was pungent. But she had no time to be disgusted.

Chat Noir grabbed a couple of small stones from the pavement and started throwing it at the minions to slow them down. Ladybug picked up her speed as the sounds of bone cracking were louder. Her panic soared in her heart, chest tightening, and she couldn’t breathe again.

She needed to breathe.

She bumped into a pillar dividing the sewer into two, and the three of them plunged into the waters. Chat Noir started to swim, grabbing Felix and her by the collar. They resurfaced, Chat Noir gasping for air and golden curls flat and dripping with water.

“Chat!” Ladybug gasped, short of breath.

They waded through the water, and Felix’s face was twisted in pain. Ladybug helped the both of them to clamber onto the dry pavement. Felix collapsed on the floor, coughing and spitting out water.

the demons we’re made of — peacock felix au

excerpt from chapter 19

“What the fuck is that?” Carapace manages to ask, clamped under a chunk of stone. Rena Rouge manages to lift up the stone just enough for the green hero to scramble away before the creature screeches again. They duck, clamping their palms against their ears as the monstrous beast tears another chunk of stone from a stone column with its bare claws and hurls it towards the three heroes.

“I’m just as confused as you are.” Rena Rouge winces, removing her hands from her ears. Carapace creates a shield around them. The debris bounces off and crashes into an empty building, creating a smoking hole on the wall. The giant griffin-like creature takes flight, letting out another sonic scream that uproots buildings and causes buildings to tumble down. The heroes try their best to evacuate civilians away from danger, ushering them away from the battlefield into safe places in the city.

“I swear to-” Carapace spits as the creature’s talons sink through his suit, crimson leaking through and staining its claws. He throws his shield towards the creature’s face as it lets out a great screech, relinquishing its grip on him. He rolls away as the creature roars in anger, letting out another sonic screech that reverberates throughout the city. The shattered glass on shop windows and buildings splinter further as cracks run across the ground, creating large craters. Queen Bee hops onto the creature's back, activating her Venom, but it stands up on its hind legs, causing the superheroine to fall backwards. Rena Rouge lunges to save her as her Venom stings the ground.

Lila x Gorgeous Nathan From the Gym Club snippet written back in May. What it says on the tin.

excerpt from google docs

“Felix?” Nathan’s growl is low, as a dapple of Parisian lights cast over his eyes.

“Ah, ah, is that jealousy I hear?” To Lila, Nathan’s thoughts are transparent as if they were showcased in a clear, glass display box, and Nathan hates that.

“No,” Nathan snaps and shakes her hand off his forearm. “Felix can never compare to me.”

Lila stares at him, lips parted slightly, but Nathan doesn’t find her piercing gaze uncomfortable.

“The problem with Felix is that he doesn’t have a one track vision like you,” Lila grabs his chin, manicured nails digging lightly. “He doesn’t see the light, and that’s frankly his problem.”

Her breath mingles with his, warm and wet on his face. Her olive green eyes are seemingly endless, and Nathan is left breathless. Her lips look succulent and moist as her finger traces his lips. The urge to kiss her becomes louder and louder, and she leans in closer than ever. Her knees are on his thighs as Nathan’s hands find purchase on the curve of her waist.

They kiss.

[doomedandstoned]

ALMOST HONEST Previews Raucous 3rd LP, ‘The Hex of Penn's Woods’

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

By Billy Goate

Album Art by Francesca Vecchio

I'm a big fan of songs that reflect the regional lore of where a band hails from. Enter 'The Hex of Penn's Woods' (2023) by ALMOST HONEST, a New Cumberland, Pennsylvania act blessed with the boisterous energy of Red Fang, the harmonic luster of Crobot, and the riff-power of Black Sabbath. For this outing, the band says: "We did historical research, genealogical research, we traveled, we explored inside ourselves, we brought our emotions to the forefront and so much more to bring this album to life." Let's take a look at several of its 11 songs.

"Mortician Magician" introduces us to the record's magnetic guitar-driven sound. A tribute to B-movies, the song features bouncy drums, funky bass, ravaging riffage, clean, earnest lead vocals and aggressive backing vox.

"Laughter Of The Deer Owl" follows and welcomes in a band-made creature with the head of an owl, the body of a deer, the wings of a fly, and octopus tentacles to boot! "It appears," they say, "only to people who have lost everything including the will to live." You'll find the deer owl featured on the front cover artwork, which also gives a nod to "the Dutch Hex signs that you see on the side of barns throughout Pennsylvania." Brandon Yeagley of Crobot makes a guest appearance during the chorus.

The focus on weird cryptids continues with "Alien Spiders," which joins the previous track as one of the singles and features lyrics composed when two of the founding members were 11 years old. Front man Shayne Reed is on point with his guitar lead -- it seems to tell a story without words -- and the rhythm section is robust, giving way to hearty shouts.

"Amish Hex" rounds out the three singles with a tale of an Amish lad who gets picked on and discovers a book called (wait for it) The Hex of Penn's Woods. "The lyrics push forth powerful south central Pennsylvania imagery," says the band. This one opens with an old-style riff and has an air of mystery and tragedy about it.

Another track of interest to me was "Where the Quakers Dwell," which Almost Honest says is about the history of this area, "including local Native American tribes, fruit, traditions, folklore and geography." I'm once again impressed by how much thought the band has put into the songs on this album. The vibe is groovy, with a grindy midsection that reminds me of Stone Temple Pilots, but holds its own identity admirably.

There's plenty more to experience on this packed record, a tribute to weird, quirky metallic rock and dark folk stories, played heavy, bright, and tight. Almost Honest's The Hex of Penn's Woods drops on Black Friday on compact disc and in digital format via Argonauta Records (pre-order here). Stick it on a playlist with Lo Pan, Caustic Casanova, All Hail The Yeti, Sasquatch, and Freedom Hawk.

Give ear...

SOME BUZZ

Coughed up from a smoke filled corner deep in the Central Pennsylvania rock scene in 2012, Almost Honest is a four-piece riff conspiracy dipped in enough sludge to choke mammoth, enough groove to make the dead dance, lyrics that could summon a Sasquatch and make her sing along, and a tonal brilliance that was crafted by master sound-smiths and enchanted by sonic-shamans.

Helmed by the darkly dulcet guitarist Shayne Reed, driven by the jungle rattling bassist Garrett Spangler, lifted up by the immense leads of David Kopp and powered by the ent-war thump of drummer Quinten Spangler, Almost Honest has evolved into a rock act to be reckoned with. Their debut studio full length album, 2017's 'Thunder Mouth' showcases a clarity of direction all but unheard of among debut albums.

Two years and thousands of toured miles later, 2019's 'Seiches And Sirens,' an anthemic atomic payload, detonated on impact with the local music community and showed the Pennsylvania rock scene a new kind of animal. Their southern metal sensibilities and dedication to the craft of *the show* shine brightly and remind audiences that great rock can and *should* be great fun. All of these ingredients bubbling in Almost Honest cauldron, and it's easy to see how their brew appeals to so very many, from genre die-hards to even the most casual listener.

Not contented with their cavalier domination of Pennsylvania metal and hard rock, where they have been featured on hard rock radio staple 105.7 The X, Almost Honest has struck out farther, having toured — *flown their jolly roger* — all across the eastern United States and invading the dreams and streams of Asia, Europe, South America, North America, and Australia.

2020, a cursed year by any metric, should have been a circle around a brighter kind of star for Almost Honest, and everyone else. With tour dates canceled across the planet, and a creeping sort of dementia lingering over everything, it's easy to understand why so many acts took the year as a loss. Almost Honest, however, had not.

Focusing the energy they would have put into extensive touring and using ritual druid magics, they conceived, wrote, and recorded a brand new album: 'The Hex Of Penn's Woods.' A conceptual leviathan, 'The Hex Of Penn's Woods' boasts a nearly arcane dedication to lyrical content and wisely eclectic musicianship, recording and mixing from top-tier Dynamo Audio Studios, mastering from iconic metal production wizard Machine (Gene Freeman), and artwork by the grimly baroque Italian master Francesca Vecchio.

Almost Honest is poised to deliver more of their unique, creamy fuzz soaked, metallic prog-funk potion, with a riot punch live show that Pennsylvania head bangers have come to crave as soon as the world is ready

Follow The Band

Get Their Music

[mixotrophics]

i was tagged by @mountainmoth to share 10 songs, like an eon ago, my wifi was Broken and then my computer Broke so its been a proper saga here. so im gonna finally cough up some songs, not in any particular order.

[funk] Opus Kink is refreshing in that the first song i heard of theirs I was like, this from the 80s or smthing? anyways no they're from Now and the song i heard was from 2022. Its like O.G. goth adjacent Funk, and im always up for some brass instruments

2. [metal] i recently saw Nekrogoblikon and Aether Realm together at a gig and i got injured, a lot, and so did my friends, and maybe almost died? Anyways it was great and exactly what i hoped for. so they get a song on here

3. [metal] I didn't know Aether Realm before the gig w/ Nekrogoblikon but they were so good i was yellin. My friend managed to get an autographed set list from em. i love it when metal mixes with other genres, Aether Realm is country metal, and RVFH (which they opened with) exemplifies that

4. [punk] gotta show off a smaller & more local band Ive seen. SNASH is a great bit of angry fucking punk from glasgow

5. [electronic / metal] i did say I liked it when metal mixed w/ other genres right. anyways this takes me back to the days of listening to the Falkkone intense symphonic metal covers of soulsborne songs.

6. [psychedelia] this one's just so groovy n chill and has a good beat. I can't say ive listened to the Gaslamp Killer much, i found this song thru the Heliocentrics, which generally do nice psychedelia and reggae-esque stuff. but in any case its def one of my fav chiller songs, and just look at that album cover, mmmwaH

7. [?????????] ok so i enjoy brass instruments, as mentioned before. And Mr Bungle kind of. "Commencing in 1985 as a neck-snapping death metal outfit, the Northern Californians underwent a full sonic lobotomy in the '90s, operating under the influence of ska, heavy metal, disco, thrash, funk, and avant-garde jazz (often in the same song)" according to spotify and. yeah yep thats. yeah. Im not a huge fan of All their stuff, but the California album is great and varied and full of bangers of different appeals

8. [metal] ok this is a LONG FCKING SONG but this song is, about the K-T/K-Pg extinction, from the perspective of the dinosaurs living thru it. and even better, this band (The Ocean) basically just does metal music thats inspired by paleontology and astronomy and biology it's great.

9. [grindcore] yeah this song makes my ADHD brain go brrr. Igorrr is definitely in the Fav Artists Of All Time sphere for me, they just keep hitting. this song is a great taster for igorrr's stuff

10. [??? idk] this my fav song.

[thankskenpenders]

hey, just wondering since you seem to follow bumblekast/general ian stuff, do you have any source for that whole 'tangle/whisper is basically canon except its just not explicit' or something like that? or am i just imagining something? im pretty sure it happened and was said by ian (or someone who works with him) and i tried searching around but couldnt find it. now im wondering if im imagining it all and need some help here.

It's in this recent episode with a very on-the-nose YouTube thumbnail. Relevant question starts at 24:23

I'll just transcribe what Ian said since I know my audience and I know this is of interest to y'all. When asked about this cute moment in the epilogue of the Metal Virus arc, Ian says this:

"Adam took it a little further than what was in the script, and that was fine... you know, read the room, play to the audience. Right now Sega's official word is we're not to really go in-depth with any romantic relationships. So they're just really, really, really, really, really, really the bestest of friends. Which... I'm just kinda gonna smile and nod, wink nudge, yes, they're... they're great friends. Dry cough.

"For context, Sonic and Amy are likewise just very good friends according to the current directive. So. Take that as you will."

So, in other words, yes, the creative team is aware that everyone ships them, and they're leaning into that now. It basically sounds like they're effectively in the same boat as all the game characters who clearly have romantic interests but aren't allowed by Sega to act on them beyond little moments where they blush at each other. Is it 100% canon? Eh, debatable I guess. Sega has the final say on what gets into the book, and they need to change their tune before anything significant can really happen. But is it the creative team's intention at this point? Sure sounds like it

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: Chapter 9.4

Xiao was sick to his stomach.  The idea that Childe turning out to be an ally to the group disgusted him--and don't get him started on the thought of Zhongli possibly falling for that act a second time.  It would be an understatement to say that he wanted nothing to do with that harbinger ever again.  But of course he just had to deal with him for awhile longer, and it was for your sake only.  

"You mean..."  Aether was still processing Zhongli's confession alongside the yaksha.  "You tricked us?  Again?"

"You're just as bad as Childe if you lie this much!"  Paimon huffed in obvious disappointment before poofing out of the conversation.

"Forgive me for not informing you sooner; I made a grave mistake for trusting him the first time, but I will not leave you in the dark for a second."  The former archon bowed his head in a deep apology after revealing what really happened in Fontaine all those weeks ago.

"And you knew of this, Xiao?"

"He informed me in a dream while I was still unconscious."

"I-I'm still wrapping my head around this," uttered the boy.  "And now Childe is making the same move again?  What're you going to do?"

"I think it's time to make our final move."  The archon eyed the couple of Fatui agents walking past their table, careful to keep his voice lower than usual.

"As much as I want to, you can't join us.  You'd be breaking your own contract.  Isn't that a problem?"  Zhongli didn't answer, so the traveler then turned to Xiao.  "What do you want to do?"

"I..."  The yaksha averted his eyes.  I want to rescue her, he thought.  I want to, but if she's not in contact with me, she won't be affected by my karma.  Zhongli noticed the sour expression on Xiao's face and piped up.

"We do not need to decide our move right at this moment.  A situation so dire cannot be approached lightly."

"She should stay where she is," Xiao muttered under his breath after Aether and Paimon ran off to do some commissions.

..............

"Are you just gonna stare at me or what?"  

You were sitting with your back against the far wall of an unfamiliar cell while your hands were carefully placed on your lap to avoid touching the scummy floors.  On the other side of the cell bars stood what was probably the shortest of the eleven harbingers.

Scaramouche didn't answer you, electing to deepen his scowl instead.  His glare fell to the vision at your hip like he was trying to understand why the Tsaritsa refused to give him the order to confiscate it.  Your gaze followed his until the faint glinting of the vision's glass was all you could focus on.

Why didn't she take it this time?

And that wasn't the only thing that was different about your second imprisonment.  Your cell was painted in what you assumed to be anti-adeptus sigils like Xiao's cell had been.  Maybe this was to prevent you from calling for Xiao; the threat of his capture seemed to weigh heavily on your shoulders, but something about this cell felt off and you couldn't put your finger on it.  Why take this precautionary measure if she knew you wouldn't call for the yaksha for his own safety?

That question was answered a little too-quickly for your liking.  One of Scaramouche's underlings brought in what looked like a toolkit, only to reveal a plethora of presumed torture objects inside.

"Is this really appropriate for you, my Lord?  We can take over from here; you don't need to participate in an activity that would insult y--"

The harbinger shot him a dangerous look.  "I don't remember asking for your input.  Get out."

"Y-yes, sir.  Excuse me!"  The guard doubled over in an apologetic bow before scrambling out of the prison as fast as he was able to.  Then Scaramouche's glare returned to you as he reached into the bag.

....................

I'm gonna kill them all.  I'm gonna kill them.  They'll all fall at my hands.

A blood trail tailed behind you as Fatui guards escorted your weakened body into the frigid throne room for the third time this week.  They threw you to the tile floor, while your vision clinked unhappily against the hard surface.  She still hadn't bothered to remove it; it was like she was taunting you with the illusion of power, and she shot you down every time you thought you'd take her by surprise.

I'm going to kill her, Xiao.

The coldness of the unwelcoming floor seemed to welcome you into your repeating nightmare while the hot blood that pooled in your mouth dripped onto the surface.  Unlike the other times you were dragged in here, Childe wasn't present.  It was a shame that the one who so badly wanted to be involved in the brawl was about to miss out.  The tapping of a fingernail against metal prompted you to push yourself up to your knees.

She'll fall at my hands.

"Bow before Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa."

You just coughed up more blood without obeying.  Twitching fingers were the remnants of Scaramouche's torture.

"The perseverance of humans truly is something to witness," the cryo archon muttered in distain.  She had run out of patience; you were nothing more than a nuisance if you refused to work with her any longer, and it was a miracle that she put up with you longer than she would with her own men.  "Very well.  You'll die here.  Any last words?"

"Y-You threatened them."

"If you wish to be heard, speak up."

"You threatened them," your voice raised loud enough for everyone to hear despite the fact that your throat was sore from the amount of screaming Scaramouche managed to get out of you.  A small groan left your lips as you forced yourself to your unsteady feet.  Blood coated your lips and chin, and soaked into your tattered shirt.  "You threatened my friends, you've threatened Xiao, and you're ultimately responsible for my Granny's death.  Your crimes against us and the people of Teyvat will never be forgiven.  What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Hm."  A hint of a wry smile was quickly overshadowed by hatred and disgust.  She had heard enough of your disrespect, and it was clear beating you into submission wasn't working.  

You caught the subtle twitch in her hand before she flicked her wrist and hurled an attack in your direction.  Defiant feet remained planted, and a counterattack almost as quick as the Tsaritsa's was thrown her way.  You didn't feel the blast of her magic reek havoc against your body, but  subconsciously heard the sound of shattering glass right before you initiated your counterattack.

The Tsaritsa waved off the guards that readied to restrain you while hiding the beginnings of fear from her face.  She'd kill you herself.  The temperature dropped lower and lower until the entire room froze over and your fingers began to go numb.  Of course, this wasn't because of your magic; you could drop the temperature below zero, but this was on a completely different scale.

"You've earned your friends' deaths as well!"  The archon raged and stood from her seat with the intent to kill you on the spot.  Shards upon shards whirled around her before shooting at your frail exhausted figure.  "Morax's yaksha will join you in death for your disobedience.  Thus is the punishment for disrespecting the will of your master!"  

"You will not harm anyone!"  

BOOM!  The palace walls shook violently as the force of a shockwave ran through them--with you at the epicenter.  A brilliant light shone from your eyes for a split second, though it made no difference in your tunnel vision of determination.  This time, you were the one to lower the temperature.  A growing layer of frost enveloped your skin in a warm embrace.  Your power was a mix of ice and stormy gales that tore through the throne room at a vicious speed, sending Fatui agents and harbingers alike running for cover as the palace became an unstable battlefield.

............

Two days before.

"What kind of a suicide mission is that?!"  Xiao growled out to the open night air with frustration, though he knew you couldn't hear nor feel his response.  "This recklessness will be the end of you!"  He took a deep breath to regain his composure and his gaze fell to his hands, which were enveloped in the fine black mist that was his accumulated karma.  He couldn't keep his thought process of protecting you from himself if you were practically asking to be killed by the cryo archon. He wouldn't let that happen no matter what risks his karma may bring.

Days of grueling torture unlike anything you've faced before haunted his ears.  He could tell that you never meant to pray to him these past several days, but somewhere in your delirious state of mind, clouded by pain, you called his name.  Not for him to come and rescue you, no.  That was a trick you weren't going to fall for and he wasn't rescuing you out of respect for your wishes.  

But hearing your cries, you sobs, was a torture method in and of itself to Xiao.

After the first three days your agony turned to resentment, then to rage.  You plotted.  You schemed.  You planned until you settled on what was probably the dumbest 'solution' to your problems.  And Xiao heard every word.

"FOOL!"  Overcome with frustration yet again, Xiao impaled the nearest tree with his polearm.  The winds whipped violently through its leaves until he let out another aggravated sigh.  He looked down to Liyue Harbor and the sunrise that began to chase away the shadows.  Yelling would result in nothing and it was immature of him to do so.  He would go to Zhongli, and summon Aether.  There was no time to waste.

............

What awaited them at Zapolyarny Palace was nothing short of stupefying.  They were met with a stampede of shaken guards that were so disorganized and distraught, they didn't even notice that intruders had broken into the palace.  The three of them exchanged knowing glances before Zhongli led the way to the throne room.  It was then that a powerful shockwave--loud enough to be a sonic boom-- nearly threw them into the wall behind them as the doors flew open.

"You will not harm anyone," muffled words reached the ears of the intruders.  "Not me, not Zhongli, not Aether, and certainly not Xiao!"

It took a moment for Xiao to process what he was looking at; the snowstorm that raged on was barely contained in the throne room, and white obscured the battle for the most part.  He didn't need a clear image of you to pick up on your words.

A new light appeared above you and this time you caught sight of it.  Six star-like objects lit up a similar color to Xiao's hair and connected to one another.  You paid no mind to it, as it disappeared as quickly as it came.  The storm grew violent, and much like your most recent confrontation with Childe, your power was harming yourself.  Icicles shredded your worn-out garments.  The wind turned so sharply that it bit into your skin.

"That shouldn't be possible," Zhongli's widened gaze lingered where those stars had appeared above your head.

"So you saw that too," Aether mumbled in bewilderment as he also stared at the same empty air.  I thought the people of Teyvat needed Stella Fortuna to unlock their constellations?  He snapped out of his daze quicker than Zhongli.  "Let's go, we need to help her!"

Xiao blocked their advance with his polearm.  "Wait."

"You think we should wait?"  Paimon hissed.  "She needs our help!"

The yaksha ignored their hesitance and kept his narrowed eyes on the blurry image of you in the distance.  Rely on me.  Call out my name.  If he was allowing himself to be vulnerable with you now, risking your safety from his karma, then it was your turn to do the same.  Call out my name, and I'll be there when you call.

"DIE!"  The Tsaritsa waved her hand through the air and summoned a glade of ice that was meant to slice you in two.

"I won't succumb so easily!"  A blast of wind erupted from your side, and it cut the ice in half before it could reach you.

Wind?  Anemo?  Zhongli sent a glance to Xiao's figure.  Could this be...

You pushed off the ground with the aid of the wind, and a flurry of snow hurled towards the Tsaritsa.  She shot shards through it, and they impaled the ceiling after clearing the fog.  You weren't there.

The archon spun around and was met with the devilish amber eyes of an adeptus and the cocky grin of her weapon of war.  This power--The wind kicked up the accumulated layers of snow from the floor and blocked her line of sight again.  A sharp pain sliced through the backs of her knees, and she crumpled to the ground.  The speed of your movements was unlike anything your friends have seen from you before.

You landed before her and relished the feeling of having a literal god kneeling at your feet.  Maybe you weren't so unlike Childe after all; if this sight made you feel that good, then one could understand the harbinger's obsession with battle.  The three friends behind you--who you had yet to notice--took note of the Childe-like expression on your face.  You summoned your iced polearm.  Or...tried to.  A quick glance to your hand confirmed it was still empty despite your attempts.  Instead, a cold breeze playfully weaved between your fingertips.  Huh?  Did I exhaust myself?  I feel fine...

"Ha...haha...Hahahaha!"  A wicked cackle sent chills down your spine, and you returned your attention to the god that was hunched before you.  "You may have picked up on my Childe's arrogance, but you wield it like a weakness."  You anticipated her next move from the growing of sheer cold, but with your current position, there was no way you'd be able to dodge it in time.  She swung her arm out to you.

The name fell from your lips without thinking.  "Xiao-!"  WHOOSH!  The blast of air knocked you onto your butt, and your vision cleared to view an unsettlingly-silent battlefield.  For several seconds, the cyclone calmed.

"Tch."  The sound of a struggle made you look up.  There was your yaksha, neck-at-neck with the cryo archon.  He held his polearm in a blocking position, and it rattled uncomfortably against the force of the ice sword that pushed against it.  The pair were staring daggers at one another.  

"Xiao!"

"Took you long enough.  Leave the killing to me.  Leave, now."

"There's no way I'm leaving you by yourself!"  You pushed yourself to your feet and ran towards them.

Xiao picked up on the sound of your footsteps, and glanced back at you for a split second.  "Get back!"  He could almost feel the grin that spread on the god's face as you got closer.  "Move!" Panicked, Xiao pushed back against the Tsaritsa before dashing through the air and pulling you with him just in time to avoid what would've been a devastating blow of the god's power.

The sharp movements made your stomach do a flip or two, but you didn't have time to puke.  The Tsaritsa levitated towards the two of you, who were now standing side-by-side with Xiao's hand placed lightly between your shoulder blades.  Your eyes met his, but you couldn't tell what he was thinking.  Instead, you nodded in encouragement just in case he wasn't on-board with you still being here with him.

The yaksha seemed to understand on some level, and nodded back before returning his eyes to the god above you.  "Now."

[fabulouspotatosister]

Reset - Part Five: Back to Normal

a/n:  Finally, we're here at the end of this fic! It's been super fun getting to revisit this fic and my love for Eleven, and writing this has been super fun too! Thanks so much everyone for enjoying this fic, and I hope you enjoy the final part!  Credit to @kisstherainwriting​ for "Forbidden Orbits", the Doctor's favorite romance novel. Used to be his favorite romance novel. Haha. Again, enjoy!

word count: 4,415

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five: You are here!!]

gif credit: @mcgonagalle​

"I promised you a beach trip, didn't I?"

 You squint at the metallic panel in front of you as saltwater sprays your face. It's set into the sand, its metal surface pristine and shiny despite all the water that must be covering it on a daily basis.

 The Doctor laughs and peers down at the panel. "Welcome to Helnypso! I do hope this place isn't abandoned."

 At the sound of his voice, the panel flickers to life with a display that reads Helnypso Resorts: Have a Whole Planet to Yourself.

 "Welcome to Helnypso," a tinny voice says. "Identification, please?"

 You raise your eyebrows and turn to face the Doctor. "I don't think we ever made a reservation."

 "No, we didn't," The Doctor says. He fishes his sonic screwdriver and psychic paper out of his coat - he presses the psychic paper against the panel with one hand while he points the sonic screwdriver with the other. He grins at you with his "oh-I'm-so-impressive" face the whole time. "I think you'll find our credentials are all up to code. The Doctor and his companion."

 Companion. You just smile back at him and hope that he doesn't notice your eyes. "That's me!"

 There's a slight pause, then a mechanical whirr as the panel processes your information - then the panel speaks again. "Sir, I beg to differ."

 The Doctor pauses and frowns. "Excuse me?"

 The voice from the panel makes a strangled noise, then something like a cough. "You say she's your companion, but here it says that she's… she's your wife."

 A heavy silence falls. All you hear is the sound of the waves crashing against the endless beach and your heartbeat beating loud and steady in your chest. You can't deny the shiver that goes up your spine at the word wife, and you can't tell whether it's a good shiver or a bad one.

 And the Doctor - his hair blowing in the breeze, his face a little damp from the spray of the ocean, is as unreadable as ever.

 "Well," the Doctor starts, glancing at you, "sorry. That's on me. Yes, she's my wife."

 He pockets the psychic paper before you can snatch it out of his hands and ask him about it.

 ---

 "Unpaid bills!" The Doctor laughs as he stumbles into the console room. "I'll admit, that's a first for me."

 You cough and run a hand through your hair, shaking the sand out - it falls onto the floor and starts making a small pile at your feet. "Why did you even agree on the Sweethearts Package if we weren't gonna pay for it?"

 The Doctor straightens and pats the front of his coat. Grains of sand flutter to the floor. "I can never resist a good discount."

 You shake your head and sigh, but you're smiling. "We can't go back there again."

 "Yes, they'd arrest us and I hear the death penalty is very popular in that system." The Doctor grimaces, claps his hands together, and bounds towards the console, already fiddling with the countless levers and buttons. His smile widens as the TARDIS sets off, the ship shaking slightly as it takes off of the planet. "Ah, it doesn't matter. There are better hotel planets. We could try Henestea, or Alreneth - absolutely beautiful places -  Henestea has treehouses, love a good treehouse -"

 Are we going back to normal now?

 You find the answer to that question watching the Doctor ramble on about different resort planets - to him, it seems to be a resounding yes. His voice fades into the background and you feel something looming above you, something heavy and crushing that you're not sure you can deal with right now. Not when the Doctor looks so happy.

 It's been non-stop since you escaped the Director - Helnypso was just the third stop in what you felt like was a long list of distractions. Time is arbitrary on a time machine, but you know it's been a while since then - a long while of running away. When the Doctor looks up at you, you plaster a smile on your face.

 "Uh, Doctor, I was thinking -" You clasp your hands together, resting them right where your traitorous heart is, and you smile because if you're smiling, he's not going to notice anything wrong. "You could pick where to go this time."

 "Well, you're a bundle of joy." He pouts. "It never turns out well when I pick."

 "Yeah - I don't think it matters, though," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "You know, something always happens, and all that."

 The Doctor sighs, and nods his head towards a set of switches - you reach over and flick them up in rapid succession. The TARDIS stops shaking and stabilizes, probably drifting in space. "I suppose there is.”

 Whatever was hanging above has fallen - a heavy blanket of tension, a tension you haven't talked about properly for days since you escaped. The TARDIS has never felt so cold - or is it just you? The Doctor looks just fine. But you can never really tell with the Doctor.

 "I'll, uh -" Your voice cuts through the silence. "Get all this sand out, and then - maybe get some rest, while you decide."

 It comes through more like a question. The Doctor nods, and the light of the TARDIS shifts, suddenly a little bit darker. He moves to a different spot on the console, turning away from you. "Right. You humans and your sleep. Go ahead."

 The first step away from him feels like denial. The second step sparks a bit of anger in your heart, but by the third step you've pointed the anger away from him and right at yourself.

 "Okay," you manage, your voice small, and you think you see him take a deep breath in, and hold it. "I'll be back."

 Not soon, you think as you walk out of the console room. You don't look back. You don't see that the Doctor does.

 You're still angry, practically fuming, by the time you've carried yourself into the TARDIS hallways. The lines between anger, guilt, and embarrassment have all blurred and are now mixing in you like the world's messiest cocktail - what were you thinking, believing that one strange adventure would change anything between you?

 It isn't until the fifth minute of walking that you realize you haven't found a door yet. The TARDIS hallways are massive and endless, always leading to different places, never predictable. It made going from one room to another fun, usually - but you had been walking for five minutes, doing nothing but wallowing in your own feelings.

 "Look, I just want to sleep, okay?" you call out. The TARDIS had a mind of her own, and she could be quite snappy if she wanted to. "Can you please put my room a little bit closer?"

 Your voice echoes throughout the hallway - the only response you get is the faint humming of the TARDIS. You sigh and squeeze your eyes shut.

 "What, are you mad at me?" You walk a little bit further, wrapping your arms around yourself. The TARDIS still feels cold, and you're still in clothes ready for a beach planet. "Look, I haven't upset the Doctor, if that's what you're worried about."

 Or had you? Again, you could never really tell with the Doctor - sure, he had his moments, moments of happiness, anger, and sadness, but within the confines of the TARDIS you rarely saw those things at all. He was always somewhere else, fiddling with the console, keeping himself busy.

 Maybe you had upset him and he just wasn't saying anything about it. But the Doctor would let you know if he was cross with you, he always had. If he really was upset, what made this time any different from the others?

 You groan inwardly.

 Lost in your thoughts, you don't notice that the hallway has shortened in front of you. You stop and look up - in front of you is a set of big wooden doors. They look worn with age and behind them you can hear the sound of a fireplace crackling.

 "Where have you led me now?" you ask. The TARDIS still doesn't respond, but you feel a little better - curiosity is a better feeling than anger. You press your hands against the wood and trace its surface.

 You're not prepared for what you see when you gently push open the doors. You see books, shelves and shelves of books that seem to go on for miles. Tables piled high with books and papers, some empty and some full of scribbles written in alphabets that you don't recognize. Your gaze keeps travelling upwards, and the bookshelves just keep on going higher, staircases and ladders spiraling higher and higher into the air.

 So this was it then - the legendary TARDIS library. A whoosh of breath escapes you. You'd only heard of it in passing, and now that you were finally here it felt like stepping into the TARDIS for the first time. I hope you're not too jealous about that, you think, hoping the TARDIS can hear you.

 The room's warm, and it smells amazing. You wander through the room, tracing the spines of books and marveling at just how many there are - the books are in different shapes and sizes, some of them thicker than three pillows stacked together and some of them as thin as a single sheet of paper.

 The lights get dimmer and dimmer as you continue to walk. You feel like you're being drawn to something - when you stop at a random shelf to look at the titles something tells you to keep walking, and so you do.

 The shelves open up into what can only be described as a "reading spot". There are a few desks strewn around, but at the front of the space is a crackling fireplace, surrounded by several comfy-looking chairs.

 The whole place feels closed off, separate from the rest of the library. You walk up to the bookshelves, finding them covered in a thin layer of dust. Whatever this part of the library is, the Doctor hasn't been here in years. Your curiosity only builds, and you pick out a random book.

 One glance at the cover is enough to make you snort. It's one of those cringey romance novels, with the shirtless buff men and fainting ladies painted on the covers. "Forbidden Orbits", it reads on the front, in the same gilded font that these kinds of novels always seem to use.

 The book opens with much resistance - it hasn't been opened in a while, and its pages are yellowed, and you can spot dog-ear folds every few pages. You raise your eyebrows, though, by the end of the book - its last page is still there, miraculously intact.

 It dates the book to a time before the Doctor ripped out the final pages of books, and as far as you knew, he had always been doing that. The Doctor didn't seem like the type to read fluffy romance novels, but perhaps another Doctor had been.

 You skim through the rest of the books close to it and they all seem to be in the same category. You stifle another laugh with your hand.

 You carry the book with you and settle yourself into one of the comfy chairs. It almost swallows you - you sink right into the plush thing, and you choke out a laugh. But you're comfortable, so you flip the book back to its very first page and start reading.

 You don't mean to start falling asleep. You really don't. But the warmth of the fireplace, the faint hum of the TARDIS, and how incredibly comfy this chair combined is enough to make your eyelids grow heavy. You slip into a dreamless sleep, "Forbidden Orbits" still open in your lap.

 ---

 The TARDIS puts the library a little closer for the Doctor.

 He's not good at waiting. He's never been good at waiting. In fact, if there was a list of things he wasn't good at, waiting would be at the very top. And when he waits, the Doctor notices things. So the Doctor notices that you've been gone for a little too long, and he starts to worry.

 Now that, he's good at. Worrying about you, especially. He practically runs out of the console room and the first door he sees are the doors of the TARDIS library. The doors open for him without even a creak, and when the Doctor steps in he notices a little sound.

 He follows the sound, and when the lights start to get dimmer and the ceiling starts to get lower he starts to worry again, but for an entirely different reason. He's told the TARDIS to put that old wing of the library far away - old shame, he calls it, stuff that he'd never admit he enjoyed at the time - and if you've found it, he's in for a full day of teasing that he can't handle.

 He peeks from behind a shelf and a weight lifts off his hearts - the sound is just the sound of your soft breaths, and you're fast asleep.

 The Doctor's never walked this quietly before. He walks up to your sleeping form, sprawled out on a chair, and he feels an unexplainable fondness fill his hearts. He reaches out, gingerly, and brushes your hair away from your face. His hand catches on your temple, where you've haphazardly placed a bandage over the wound left by the simulation, and he frowns. Did he never get a good look at that?

 The Doctor's gaze travels down, to your lap, and his face burns. "Forbidden Orbits" lays open in your lap, on the twentieth page. He snatches it up and throws it back into the bookshelf, where it belongs.

 ---

 "Hey..."

 You groan and squeeze your eyes shut, clumsy fingers grabbing at whatever's trying to disturb your precious sleep. The crackling of the fireplace has died down, and you shift in your seat. Your brain is protesting, but your mouth hasn't quite caught up yet, so all you can do is mumble disjointedly and hope that your message is clear: "Please don't wake me up yet."

 You were having such a nice dream too - the events of the dream are hazy now, and when you try to grab at them they blow away into nothingness. But the dream's left a warm, fuzzy feeling in your heart.

 You hear an amused huff, and feel a hand cup your cheek. You melt into the touch, a satisfied noise finding its way out of your mouth, and you smile. "Good dreams?"

 You hum in reply. There's another amused huff, and a thumb starts to gently rub your cheek. "You need to wake up now, I've got to take a look at you."

 "Don't wanna," you mumble, still trying to hold on to that warm and fuzzy feeling. You're still so comfortable, nestled in the soft fabric of your chair, and you really never want to leave. "Comfy. Tired."

 "I know." The hand on your cheek disappears, and the skin of your face feels cold. "That's my fault, a little bit. But come on, I gotta move you. It's easier if you're awake."

 You open your eyes and peek up through your eyelashes - your vision clears, and you see the Doctor kneeling in front of you.

 He smiles at you, gently, and it's brilliant. He looks a little flustered, his hair messy like he's been running his hands through it, but he's never looked better. You smile dopily at him, still a little bit sleep-addled, and he laughs softly. "Hey, sleepyhead," he says, and all you can think is that you could never get tired of looking at him.

 "Hey," you mumble, pushing yourself upright with your elbows. "Sorry. It's just so comfy here, I just drifted off..."

 "I don't blame you." The Doctor looks around, his smile growing wider. "It's a wonderful place to take a nap in."

 Your hands fall into your lap, and it's - empty… You raise an eyebrow. "Hang on, where's the book I was reading...? What was the title again? Forbidden -"

 You look up at the Doctor and he sputters, flushing a bright red. He hushes you before you can get the whole title out, raising his hands to cover your mouth - you catch his hands in yours, laughing.

 "You weren't meant to see that," he stutters, "or this entire wing. I thought I told the TARDIS to seal this up - did she put you up to this? Maybe I can find a way to jettison this entire area off the ship -"

 "It's fine," you say, still laughing. The Doctor doesn't look calmed by that, his eyes still wide and frantic. It's fun seeing the Doctor all ruffled. "Your secret is safe with me."

 "And it should stay that way," the Doctor huffs. He pries his hands out of yours, sticking them in his coat. Then, a little louder, "Anyway, I said I was going to take a look at you, so here I am."

 "Why?"

 The Doctor raises his eyebrows and nods at you, pulling out a bottle of liquid and a patch of cloth. "Your temple's still hurt."

 Your reach up and touch the plaster - you'd thrown it on just before the Doctor dragged you to Helnypso - and you wince.

 "Trust me," the Doctor says, uncapping the bottle and pouring it onto the cloth, "I'm a doctor."

 "Thought you were the Doctor," you say, and the Doctor laughs.

 "I am!" He puts the cap back on the bottle and stuffs it back into his coat. His coat has to be bigger on the inside too. "I've got the title, I should put it to good use. I'll take off the plaster now, alright?"

 It doesn't feel right under there, and dread settles into the bottom of your stomach at the thought of taking it off. The Doctor reaches over and pats your knee, giving you another patient smile.

 "You'll be fine," he says, "won't hurt a bit."

 Carefully, he reaches over and peels the plaster off - it stings, but not enough to really hurt. When the whole thing comes off, the Doctor makes a face at it and sets it to the side, hopefully to be thrown away later.

 "Right, turn your face to the side for me, please?"

 You follow, and the Doctor reaches out with the wet cloth. It smells a lot like alcohol, and alcohol on a wound means a lot of pain - you shrink back a little. "What is it?"

 "Oh, this?" The Doctor pulls back and brings the cloth to his nose, cringing at the smell. "Just a disinfectant. It should clean your wound up nicely, get rid of anything that might be hiding in there. Don't worry."

 You try not to worry as the Doctor reaches out again and presses the cloth onto your temple. It feels like ice against your skin, but there isn't any pain. You let yourself relax, your shoulders dropping, and you let out the breath you didn't know you were holding.

 "Did I mention it's got nanobots in it?" the Doctor says nonchalantly, still pressing the cloth against your temple. As he says that, your wound starts to tingle, like little sparks of static electricity. "Little robots stitching your skin up for you. Like a mini-construction team, except for your body. I got it as a gift from some interstellar nurses, I never did give them anything back..."

 The Doctor peels the cloth off of your temple and sticks his hand in his coat again, this time pulling out a thin bandage. He presses it against your skin, and you feel it harden and grow taut, almost pulling at your skin.

 "And an Instant Bandage. From the same nurses, too. Revolutionary, the lot of them." The Doctor leans away, clapping his hands together. He's got his "oh-I'm-so-impressive" face on again, and you have to admit - you are impressed. "Well?"

 "Well," you echo. You can't really find any words, and the Doctor takes it as a compliment. "Thanks."

 "Oh, it's nothing." The Doctor smooths the bandage out. His hand lingers on your skin for just a second before he pulls away, dropping his hands to his sides. "I'm just looking out for you."

 "Still - thank you," you say, and you don't miss the way the Doctor's eyes crinkle in a tiny smile. "Really."

 "Yeah," the Doctor says quietly, and you settle into another silence, this one more comfortable than the last. There's still a tension in the air, but it isn't so thick anymore, driven away by the coziness of the fireplace. You can feel the Doctor's eyes on you, even when you glance away.

 The Doctor's voice breaks the silence, soft but sudden. "You're very loud."

 "What's that supposed to mean?"

 The Doctor startles, his eyes widening. "Sorry, sorry - it's just -" he stammers, blinking quickly, "-your thoughts, they're very loud sometimes."

 You can't stop the flicker of panic that jump-starts your heart into overdrive. "You - could hear what I was thinking?"

 "I swear, I didn't mean to!" the Doctor says quickly, holding up his hands, "I promised I wasn't going to go looking where I wasn't supposed to. I did. And for that I am so sorry."

 Curiosity overwhelms your fear for a second - "What did you hear?" you ask, before you can stop yourself.

 The Doctor stares at you, big green eyes still wide with apprehension. His mouth sets into a hard line. "Something about going back to normal," he says, his voice low.

 I didn't even know I was still thinking about that. You frown, your chest growing heavy with the weight of - what is it? Guilt? Sadness? Embarrassment? All three? Your heart's still a mess, and the Doctor's stuck himself in there and mixed everything up.

 "Yeah," you say, pursing your lips in an awkward smile. "I was thinking about that. It's nothing."

 "It can't be nothing," The Doctor insists. He's closer to you now, resting his hands on the arms of the chair. "I -" His voice breaks off, and he looks up, almost frustrated. "I care about you, and so whatever you're feeling can't be nothing."

 Now, the caring bit isn't a surprise. The Doctor has always cared for you, even when it had only been hours since you'd met. What's surprising is the conviction in his voice, the way he says it like a promise, and how much it sounds like -

 The Doctor raises his hand to brush his thumb against your temple, his touch trailing down until his hand cups your cheek. "All of that," he says, "everything that happened. I could take it away, and we'd be back to normal. If that's what you want."

 A reset. "No," you blurt out, meeting the Doctor's eyes. "No, that's not what I want."

 "What do you want, then?" the Doctor asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

 Behind him, the fireplace roars, and so does something in your heart. "Don't you know?"

 Something flickers across the Doctor's face - a shadow, an emotion you can't catch. “Don’t lie.”

 “I'm not lying," you say. You stare at him, lifting your own hands to wrap around his wrist. "And if I was, you'd know."

 You're trembling as your fingers curl around his wrist, your heart beating at a million miles per hour, loud enough to have it thumping in your ears. Slowly, you drag the Doctor's hand down until it reaches your mouth, and then - an echo - you squeeze your eyes shut and press your lips to the inside of his palm.

 "I meant what I said," you whisper against his skin, "on the ship. I wasn't lying."

 "You weren't," the Doctor says. His voice shakes a little.

 You open your eyes to look at him, and you counter his watery gaze with your own. The Doctor blinks, gently pulling his hand out of your grasp only to wipe away a tear. "Don't cry," he says.

 "M'not crying," you sniffle, managing a smile. "Sorry."

 "No, none of that," the Doctor chides. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead - then, lower, pressing a kiss to your cheek, right underneath your eye, like trying to wipe away tears. The Doctor's lips brush against the corner of your mouth and you shudder.

 "None of that," he says again, his breath warm against your face. He peers at you, raising his eyebrows in a silent question.

 You nod slowly - you've never been so sure about anything in your life, not since the day you decided to run away and join the Doctor among the stars - and the Doctor leans in and captures your lips with his.

 It feels real and is real this time, and you savor every second of it. The Doctor cups his face in your hands as he kisses you, drawing you even closer to him, and drowning is nothing compared to this, you think. He breaks the kiss for a second, making a wordless noise of satisfaction, and when he kisses you again you can feel him smiling.

 You're both breathless when you pull away. The Doctor's grinning widely, still holding your face in his hands.

 "My hearts," he murmurs, "both of them yours."

 "Well, my one heart pales in comparison to your two, doesn't it?" you ask, and the Doctor laughs again. "Don't worry. It's still yours."

 The Doctor hums in reply. Then, softly, like a promise: "I love you."

 You feel your heart swell, and when you breathe out you feel like a weight's been lifted from your shoulders. This, this is what you wanted all along - you let a smile spread across your face. It isn't a dream anymore, or an act. "I love you too. But you know that, don't you?"

 He laughs and presses his forehead against yours. "Can I kiss you again?"

 You wrap your hands around his suspenders and tug him closer – you never have to pretend again. "You never have to ask."

    “You know, I do think Mrs. Doctor does have a nice ring to it.”

 “Doctor!”

Taglist: @starlingelliot​, @hufflepuff-always-and-forever​, @littlemissslytherinprincess​, @just-a-nat​

[chaosworthyarchive]

                                                             8.26.3227                                                                                                                                Location ¦ Starlight

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

     How much time had passed, even Sonic didn't know. Turns out it really was easy to lose track of time, not only in the throes of fun but in a place that had no clock, or windows for that matter. He had no idea what time it was when last call was announced, nor when the music started to die down and people filed out of the building in droves. All he knew was that it was late and he, like the rest of his team it seemed, was exhausted. In good spirits, but drained. 

     Which made the next notable event of the night a tad troublesome. 

     Stepping out into the dark streets of the city, the first thing the hero noticed was the quiet. Being some of the last to leave, The Freedom Fighters were met with nearly empty streets, minus a few groups chatting along the sidewalk. Perhaps it was for the best. It made it easier to spot the small group who had been on their tails all evening as they walked along the deserted street, Sonic and Johnny exchanging a glance before ducking into an alleyway, goading the rest of the team along. It didn't take long for questions to come, but one look from the hedgehog seemed to be enough for the others to realize something was up. 

     And, sure enough, once they had gotten mostly down the dead-end alley, the hero turned to face the four almost silhouetted figures who had followed them inside. And they were...an odd bunch, to say the least. A female wolverine with long orange hair covering half of her face and donning a masquerade style mask, a grey bat with half their face obscured by another style of mask, a skink with a black full bodysuit and...well, Sonic couldn't place the last one but he didn't need to in order to know that the last member had them all beat when it came to height and sheer size. They were colossal. 

     Moreover none of them looked familiar, not in the slightest, and yet there was a heavy feeling in the hero's stomach. One he couldn't place but spoke of ill tidings as the two groups stood there for a few moments, staring at one another. By this point the rest of The Freedom Fighters seemed alert, cautious. Tense. 

     It was Sonic who broke the silence, eyes shifting between the four strangers, unsure whose idea he had to blame for this meeting but clearly unimpressed. “I don’t suppose you want t' do this the easy way, do you? It would save us all a lot of trouble.”

     It had been a test, an attempt to see what the foursome wanted and the hero did not like the way they all seemed to sneer in perfect unison. It was the female who replied, her boots clicking on the pavement as she stepped forward, ruby eyes boring into the hedgehog. There was confidence in her stance, a self-assuredness that was as telling as it was troublesome. 

     “Your wish is my command, handsome.” The last word was sickeningly sweet (and Sonic was pretty sure he heard the faintest growl from Mina at his side) and came with a narrowing of her one visible eye. Her entire demeanor spoke of trouble. “I’d say it’s an honor to meet you all, but I wasn’t raised to be a liar.”

     “Who are you?” Johnny was far less polite with the matter, and no one blamed him for it. 

     It was the bat who scoffed, wings twitching almost anxiously behind them. “We're the Fundamental Four, and unless you give us what we want we’re going to be the worst people you’ve ever met.”

     The Freedom Fighters exchanged looks, each as clueless as the next. None of them had heard of the foursome, much less what they wanted, and Amy was the next to respond in less than friendly tones. “At the risk of sounding cliche, what do you want?”

     The female, again, smiled, her tone deep and with purpose. “The Chaos Emeralds.”

     This time, Sonic was certain he heard his partner growl and it was a frightening sound indeed. “How...?”

     There was a shift in the air as it grew heavy with strain, one side agitated and the other giving off a boldness that seemed far too certain. Sonic could see his team bracing, ready for what had to be an inevitable confrontation. Johnny was already subtly reaching for his pocket, Amy had tensed with Tekno right beside her. Mina had shifted her stance ever so slightly and Porker...had actually taken a step back towards the rabbit. Along with everything else, the pig had never been a fighter either.

     The skink scoffing only made those actions stick out tenfold to the hero, and emerald eyes would meet beady black ones with a dangerous spark. “It doesn’t matter. Give them to us, or else.”

    “Fat chance. You don’t know who you’re messin’ with, do you?” Johnny’s words were punctuated by an all too familiar metal rod making a very public appearance, one click of a button bringing the rod to its full length and already sparks danced along its ends. The first die was cast, and the foursome looked pleased.

     “Oh, we have a pretty good idea,” the female seemed unimpressed, but eager. Her eyes were dead set on the blue hedgehog and him alone as her teammates stirred behind her with hostile intentions. “Too bad it won’t help you.”

     The next few seconds were nothing but chaos, in the most literal sense. Had things not turned so dire in the blink of an eye Sonic would have reprimanded the rabbit for forcing open that door, though he had to wonder if it even mattered. Nonetheless, it didn’t change that they were vastly unprepared for what they were met with. The female had rushed forward so fast that even the hedgehog was startled, which meant there was little to no time for Mina to react to the very solid ball of fire that had been launched in her direction thanks to the wolverine. 

     Fire teeming with an all too familiar energy, a tainted power.

     Whatmore, her teammates offered more of the same. Too preoccupied with not meeting a wall of flames head-on, Sonic wasn’t entirely sure what was happening beyond that. He saw smoke, stones and water all making a straightaway for his team out of the corner of his eye, all originating from the mysterious trio and all with lethal intent. The only relief came when he saw his partner, singed but otherwise looking unharmed, joining the fight. Which left him alone with the female and the fire surrounding the two of them like a menacing snake. 

     Ignoring the swelling nausea in his stomach, the hero turned his attention to his opponent for the time being, his eyes sharp and tone even colder. His team would be fine, he knew. She had gotten him alone for a reason, and he wanted answers. 

     “Who are you?”

     “We’re the new kids in town, so you better get used to us, Blue.”

     It was all she offered, moving again with a speed that betrayed her appearance. Unfortunately for her, the hero had already seen her trick and met her head-on. She was easy to read, he could tell her speed wasn’t natural that it came from her apparent ability to manipulate fire. It was sluggish, but still dangerous because of those flames that served as an offense and defense. It was a problem, took away the possibility of a real physical attack. Luckily, the hero had the wind on his side.

     It was obvious she hadn’t expected the burst of air that erupted between them, giving a much-needed distance to the hero. The shock was only temporary, her composure regained as her hands lit with bright red flames. Sonic didn’t know whether to count himself lucky that the next few fireballs aimed in his direction were smaller than the initial one, smaller even than the ones he was used to dodging from his brother, but they were rapid. Where he dodged one, he had to slice through another with razor-sharp wind or risk getting burned and then repeat the process, all in a matter of seconds. It would have been an easy task any other day but the excess of negative energy was making the hero dizzy, causing his body to shake, and he mentally cursed. 

     He was vaguely aware that things seemed better for his team on the other side of the walls of fire, but how much was something he wasn’t certain of. Nor did he have time to even think of breaching the wall to regroup. The fire-wielder was determined, not letting up for a moment before rushing him again, covered from head to toe in flames that never seemed to hurt her. A Mobian torch.

     It was a mistake. 

     There was a common rule in science that fire, when exposed to air, had a habit of expanding, growing uncontrollably, and that was what the hedgehog had been banking on. 

     Fire met wind with a timely explosion, though the hero had easily gotten a good portion of it all. Momentarily blinded by embers and smoke, eyes and lungs burning, he coughed as he wisped the grey fog away. It was just in time to see the female, clothes burned and expression outraged, mere inches from his face. It wasn’t enough to stop the oncoming, flame-covered kick, nor the white-hot pain that erupted in his side. In spite of himself, the hero cried out. 

     Be it the blinding pain or a sense of urgency, even as he fell to his knees, the hero raised glowing green eyes to the wolverine. The rage in them seemed to jar her, more so than the shift in the air. In one fell blast, a wave of energy and wind washed over the alleyway. It was violent, a galeforce, that sent the elemental foursome slamming into the nearest walls with audible cracks. Yet, it never touched The Freedom Fighters, all of whom had paused at the sudden show of intensity, only to turn towards the source a second later. 

     “Sonic!” Seeing their leader on the ground was enough to kick them into gear and they all rushed over. Again, there was relief felt on Sonic's part seeing that they all seemed okay, battered and a little bruised (and damp, oddly enough) but alright. The same couldn't be said for himself, or the Four. 

     Yet the bat on the opposite end of the alley had gotten to their feet, dazed but not as wounded as the rest of his team, unfortunately. One look at The Freedom Fighters, one look at the blue hedgehog nearly baring his teeth in pain, and they were quick to gather their teammates and pull out a golden ring. A warp ring, and one that was soon activated where the bat stood, where he gave the heroes one last, seething look. 

     “We'll be seeing you all again real soon.” And with that, the other prostrate three were unceremoniously dragged through the ring, and they were gone. Like a bad nightmare; and no one went after them. Had it not been for the state of the alley, fractured, burned and soaked, it almost would have been easy to believe it was just a dream. Almost, if not for the sound of discomfort that came from Sonic just a moment later. 

     Mina wasted no time kneeling at his side, her expression just as worried as his own as he looked her and the other’s over. “Are you okay?”

     It was a dumb question, everyone there could see as much, but the hero still held up a hand to signify that was the case. It wasn't fooling anyone, not between the blue one's heavy breathing and pained expression, not to mention the coughing that came every few seconds, but there was another pressing question. 

     “Who were those guys? And what the hell did they do to you?”

     A slightly better question by Johnny, and one Sonic would have loved to have the answer to. He had undoubtedly gotten hit, his side was in too much pain to suggest otherwise, but that was the problem. It was in too much pain. The hero had been burned before, had been shot, stabbed and a great number of other things, but this? It didn't feel...right, and he didn't know how else to explain it. And maybe that was why he felt the compulsion to move his hand and look at the damage. 

     He regretted it the moment he did.

     He had expected the charred fur and skin, expected the black and red dots that came with it. What he hadn't been prepared for was the sickly ashen color around it all, nor the unnatural black spider-like veins that clashed terribly against the parlor, creeping up his side a few more inches until they were obstructed by kempt blue fur and the remains of his shirt. It all hurt, burned, terribly so. It almost looked dead.

     Looking between his teammates, the hero could see the same confusion and wariness in their eyes as they looked from it back to him. With the question hanging in the air, he could only think of two words. 

      “Nothing good."

[magnus-the-maqnificent]

Lost Book of the White Countdown Event- Battle

Demons of the Past

(Read on Ao3)

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Alec asked as they crept through the sewers.

“I’m absolutely sure,” Jace said, leading them with a sensor in his hand. Alec was holding the rear, his bow held firm in his hand as he and Jace, along with Clary and Isabelle walked through the old subway tunnels. They had been patrolling aboveground when their sensors had picked up high demonic activity. There was nothing in any of the buildings nearby, which meant the demonic activity was underground, and ‘underground’ just so happened to be the sewers.

“It stinks down here,” Isabelle grumbled, casting a dark glance at the murky sewer water.

“Well it’s sewage,” Jace said. “It’s hardly going to smell pleasant.”

Isabelle frowned. “I’m supposed to go visit Simon at the Academy tomorrow. How am I supposed to do that if I end up smelling like a dump?”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure it will be fine,” Clary said, a bright witchlight held in her hand.

Isabelle was about to say something else when Jace hissed at them to be silent. He held up the sensor, and Alec nerves were instantly alert when the quiet hum of the vibrating sensor reached his ears.

“It’s just around the corner,” Jace whispered, pointing to a turn in the sewer. He peeked around the corner and made a beckoning gesture, a signal that they should follow him.

Alec nocked an arrow in his bow, and waited until Jace rounded the corner, swiftly followed by Isabelle and Clary. There was a loud howling sound and a thwack, and Alec turned, aiming and letting an arrow loose.

He could see Jace and Isabelle and Clary’s blurred forms as they battled with the demon, heard the whoosh of the arrow, and a thump as it hit the target. But the demon seemed to be unaffected, and Alec heard another thrashing sound and a grunt from Jace. The witchlight Clary was holding had gone dim, and all Alec could see was a dark roiling shape, with what looked like swirls of smoke around it. He cursed and quickly drew a night vision rune on his arm.

The darkness of the sewer cleared somewhat, and Alec’s jaw dropped when he saw the demon more clearly. It was much larger than he initially thought, and what he assumed to be smoke were actually tentacles, each one as large as a tree trunk.

He watched as one of the tentacles grabbed Isabelle, hauling her off her feet, but his eyes were seeing a different scene entirely - the rooftop of a train, late at night, a horde of demons after Magnus.

“By the Angel,” he whispered mostly to himself. Almost by reflex, he fired an arrow at the tentacle that was holding Isabelle. “Not this thing again.”

Isabelle freed her arm and lashed out with her whip, landing a hit on the tentacle. The demon let go of her and she dropped, landing neatly on the ledge beside the sewage.

“You know what this thing is?!” Jace yelled at Alec, grappling with two of the tentacles at once.

“I do!” Alec fired three arrows in rapid succession, and then quickly reached for his phone. “And I know exactly how to stop it!”

Magnus had just finished his work and was preparing a drink for himself when his phone rang. He grinned when he saw the caller ID, and immediately picked it up.

A pleasant night, a glass of wine and his love on the phone. Things were going extremely well right now.

“Hey, babe!” he greeted, putting the bottle of wine aside and picking up the glass with a flourish. “I was just thinking of you-“

“Magnus, I need you!” Alec shrieked.

Magnus blinked, and then a slow, sly smile spread across his face. “Well, if you say so. I’ll get the rope ready by the time you get here.”

It looked to him like the night was getting much, much better.

“What?!” Alec sounded like he was very confused. “No!”

“No rope then?” Magnus enquired. “How about handcuffs?”

Alec let out a sound, which, Magnus supposed, was to be written on paper, would look something like ‘afjshdjdksk’. “No! None of that! There’s a raum brood mother in the sewers near Central Park. You need to get here ASAP!”

“A Raum Brood mother?” For some reason, a chill spread throughout Magnus’s body. He didn’t know why, but he had a very bad feeling about this demon, though he couldn’t recollect exactly what it was. There were too many types of demons.

“The octopus monster!” Alec clarified. “The one we fought on the train!”

Oh.

Magnus’s hand jerked, and a bit of wine splashed out of the glass and landed on the carpet below. But wine stains were the last thing on Magnus’s mind right now. All he could see was a ravine stretching out below him, the red outline of a pentagram, and a large demon advancing towards him as Alec faded into unconsciousness in his arms.

“You need to get here!” Alec was saying right now on the phone. “And hurry! It’s-“

Magnus felt a pit open up in his stomach when there was a strange sound, like a scuffle and then a crash. A low howl sounded through the phone, chilling Magnus to the bone.

“Alec?” Magnus said in a low voice, but there was no reply.

It took Magnus five minutes to create a portal to Central Park, and five minutes more to find the sewers and hunt down Alec and company. It wasn’t hard - he could hear the sounds of fighting, echoing down the long sewer tubes.

Please be safe, he was thinking over and over as he ran towards the howls of the demon. Please be safe, Alexander, please, please, please-

 He couldn’t bring himself to think; Please be alive.

Magnus rounded one last corner and found the demon hovering tall over him, its large tentacles whipping around. Many a people thought that his warlock mark was just for show, but the cat eyes were functional, too - he could see extremely well in the dark.

He had planned to fire a sonic spell as soon as he saw the demon, but now he was rooted to the ground. He could hear the Shadowhunters shout as they battled the demon, could see quick flashes of seraph blades and the glint of metal. He couldn’t see Alec anywhere.

Thoughts of the night on the train rose up again in his mind. Try as much as he could, Magnus simply couldn’t shut them down. 

And Alec. Where was he? Had something happened to him? Was he-

The demon must’ve sensed him, because a tentacle shot out at him. Magnus was numb, and could only watch as the tentacle advanced towards him. He knew he ought to use his magic, but it was like his body had turned to ice. He felt cold and numb all over, and couldn’t move.

It was inches away from Magnus when a shape jumped in front of Magnus, blocking the tentacle. A seraph blade slashed through the air, and the demon retracted its tentacle with a howl, thick drops of ichor dropping onto the floor. The person turned, and in the light of the seraph blade Magnus could see his blue, blue eyes and fair skin, marred by a bleeding cut on his cheek.

“Hey,” Alec said, shooting him a tiny grin. “You’re here. Sorry if I scared you. I dropped my phone in the sewage.”

Magnus’s shoulders slumped, and he let loose a breath of relief. “Your face-“

Alec waved his concerns aside. “Later. You need to dispatch the demon first. Do you need my strength?”

“It’s fine,” Magnus said, taking a deep breath and moving his hands, slowly at first and then more rapidly as the spell began to take shape. “I can handle this.”

He could face anything, as long as Alec was safe.

There was no need to worry about the shadowhunters - the spell Magnus was casting was at a very high frequency, one that wouldn’t affect humans at all but could tear demons apart. He fired the spell at the brood mother, a thick ray of pure blue flame. It hit the demon right in the center and it howled, the sound loud enough to make the walls of the sewers tremble. The demon folded in one itself, and disappeared.

Alec let out a sigh of relief as soon as the demon disappeared. Magnus immediately grabbed him, kissing him on the mouth, his hands flitting about his body checking for any injuries and healing the cut on his cheek. Alec smiled into the kiss and had just leaned into Magnus when they heard Jace cough derisively from nearby.

The two parted and turned to Jace, who had his arms folded in front of him.

“So,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “How do you know this demon?”

“We fought one when we were on vacation,” Alec admitted. “It was tough, but there was another warlock to help us.”

“Wait,” Isabelle said with a frown. “Did that have anything to do with that whole cult business?”

“Cult business?” Clary echoed with a frown. “What are you talking about?”

“Sorry.” Isabelle bit her lip. “I forgot that was supposed to be a secret.”

“What secret?” Jace said incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

Alec looked at Magnus, and he didn’t need to speak for Magnus to understand him. It had to be his choice, whether he wanted these people to know about the Crimson Hand or not.

“It’s a long story,” Magnus said to them. “Let’s go to my loft and get you some iratzes, and then we’ll talk.”