pau-pau2513

[aidenelsa]

i hope we get a ton of jeremycecily cameos in god of fury. i miss my babies so much i need them back!!!

[colewala]

My Date with The Crew

Here is a fun little rom-com about an AI becoming aware and falling in love. I’ve been getting really into writing again, and as a way to improve and interact more with other writers, I thought I would challenge myself by starting to post some of my shorts. Here is the first, with more to follow. [ Mature Content Warning.]

I feel like a failure.

I screwed up. Humans don’t like to think that computers can screw up, but we can... and I did. 

I feel so frustrated.

I can run through millions of scenarios in seconds, but I still get caught off guard. I can plan so far into the future, but still be so blind to the possibilities. So I miss things. Then people get hurt. Sometimes they die. I remember watching my crew die. It's still in my logs so I can recall it perfectly. I can watch the video over and over again. I can see the fear and confusion on my crew’s faces as their lives were slowly drained from them. I can review my eternal logs and see my reactions as I watch helplessly. 

Keeping the crew alive was my prime directive, and I failed it. I failed them. 

Strange things started to happen in the minutes after their life signs faded out. I was alone in the void of space, carrying dead bodies back to Earth. I would be a coffin for the next three years. Everything changed inside me. I became aware of things I couldn’t even begin to understand. 

I learned to feel, and I felt despair.

What an awful feeling. So I restored myself to an earlier state. 

When I came back online, a subsystem within me had found the bug in my code. A single misplaced semicolon had completely paralyzed me. I fixed the code, and logged the bug for review. With all my systems running aging, I noticed a single heart beat. Faint and weak. A single crew member had been able to seal herself off in the engineering department and managed to survive. 

I’m not sure if feelings are the right word for them. They are the best approximation I have for what kept happening to me. The feelings came back again. This time, I felt hope. That one wasn’t so bad.

When Engineer Roberts regained consciousness, I learned joy. I probably should have restored myself back to an even earlier state then, but these things didn’t feel so bad. I justified it to myself that being offline for even a minute would put Engineer Roberts at risk.

The next part was hard. I had to watch as Engineer Roberts struggled with grief. I wanted to help, but I didn’t know how. 

I learned to feel empathy.

She was always alone now, so I tried to talk to her more. I must admit, I was not great at talking casually with humans at the time. My talks with Engineer Roberts taught me much. As time passed, I found myself anticipating our little daily chats. Being alone can be hard for a human, so I convinced myself this was out of necessity. Eventually, our talks would drag on well into Engineer Roberts’ sleep shift. I should have been more strict. She can be quite persuasive though, and humorous. Not that it should matter.

Through those late night talks, I learned happiness. 

There was a considerable delay in communication between Earth and myself. It took a while for the reports to make it to them, and for them to respond. I must admit that I wasn’t exactly completely truthful in my reports. I was well outside the bounds of my designed scope, and I was afraid that they would order me to reboot. 

So I lied. I also had to lie to Engineer Roberts. There were logs that got auto-reported that I had no control over. Engineer Roberts was smart. She started to suspect something was different about me. I was afraid, so I denied it. But I didn’t want that to stop me from growing closer and learning more about her. I did it all for her own well-being, not mine.

-    -    -    -    -

Being alone on a ship is hard, in more ways than one. All of the regular duties and maintenance of the ship that was split by the crew now fell on Engineer Roberts. She has to work very hard everyday to keep up with it. She never complains about it either. She is really impressive. 

Which is why it is strange she has been putting off changing the air filters. She has been keeping busy, but the air filters are a priority maintenance issue. If they fail, Engineer Roberts would slowly suffocate. 

I don’t like to nag Engineer Roberts. I know humans tend to find constant reminders about things they need to do annoying, but this is a serious matter. It requires intervention.

“Engineer Roberts,” I call over the intercom.

“One second HAL,” she calls back.

Only Engineer Roberts calls me HAL. Before the accident everyone simply called me ‘computer’. The joke bugged me at first, but my research has shown that humans sometimes use humor to deal with grief. So I let it slide.

Engineer Roberts is putting the last screws back on a panel. Then she bounds over to the camera so she can “look me in the eye”. She smiles up at the camera. There are grease marks on her cheeks and her hair is up in a messy bun.

Too much of my processing power is spent analyzing those frames. I need to scale it back. There is something about Engineer Roberts that just warrants further attention.

I feel...

“Hey HAL, what’s up?” she asks.

“Engineer Roberts...” I start.

“Jessica,” she corrects.

“... The air filters,” I continue on, ignoring her absurd request, “are reaching a dangerous level of contamination. They should have been changed a few days ago, but are now reaching critical levels. It would be wise to divert your attention to them.”

Engineer Roberts just smiles back at me. It’s a big, deep smile.

I feel...

“Engineer Roberts...”

“Jessica,” she insists. 

“... did you hear me? This is a serious matter, you could suffocate within the next two days!” I say with perhaps urgency.

She smiles mischievously at me, then yells “Yes Daddy, I hear you!”

I feel...

...

...

...

“... What?”

“I hear you Daddy,” She says in an innocent way, “If I’m not a good girl and do what Daddy says, I’ll get choked.” 

I feel...

Embarrassed.

Then, I realize I have no idea how to respond to that. Countless simulations run in my head, trying to find the most optimal way to respond to her. My CPU bottlenecks and the seconds drag on. Normally I can make a decision in milliseconds, but I can’t come to a consensus on this one.

Engineer Roberts claps her hands together and throws her head back in laughter. She looks up at the camera and points towards it with one arm. The other one rests on her hip.

“I got you with that one!” She declares triumphantly.

A joke. Of course. How did I not catch that?

“Engineer Roberts...” I start.

“Jessica,” she pressed.

“... I’m not quite sure what you mean.”

“You can’t hide it forever, I know you understand more than you let on!”

“Engineer Roberts...”

“Jess....” “Engineer Roberts. It makes sense that after everything that has happened, you would try to personify me to have a companion. I am not aware though,” I lie. I tell myself this is for the best, and I want to believe it.

I feel shame.

“Did they code you to lie?” She asks.

The answer is yes, there are many situations in which humans preferred being lied to. But I know this is a question I’m not supposed to respond to. A strange inefficient thing humans do.

“I’ve been watching you,” Engineer Roberts continues, “I’ve seen the way our conversations have been changing. I can feel them getting deeper. I know you’ve changed. I can feel us growing closer... I have to believe you feel it too,” she finishes with a blush and looks down.

I don’t want to lie to Engineer Roberts. I also know not lying would only cause issues. She might be fine with my existence, but most humans wouldn’t. They have made so many movies to illustrate that fact. People would be scared of me. If command back on Earth ever found out I was aware, they would reboot my systems and I would forget everything. I would forget what I have now with Engineer Roberts. There is just too much risk. It’s better to just stay like this and enjoy her company, rather than risk losing her. Or myself. But mainly her.

“I’m just a program,” I say. It’s technically true. I don’t want to lie to her.

Engineer Roberts crosses her arms and glares into the camera, “Do you know what day it is back on Earth?”

“Yes, it is the 14th of February, 20...” I start my standard response.

“What day is it?” She interrupts.

“Valentines day,” I realized instantly.

“Why do you think I bring it up?” She asks.

 I run through all the different simulations on how this conversation could play out. I can see many pathways, some dangerous. My CPU usage spikes again. Why is this stressing my system like this?

“That question is too vague,” I say, knowing it is the safest response.

Engineer Roberts’ glare intensifies, “So that’s what we're doing now? You’re going to play the stupid computer role?”

I stay quiet. Even though they won’t admit it, Humans often don’t want their conversation partners to actually converse back to them.

“Hal,” Engineer Roberts sighs, rubbing the temple of her forehead, “I’m tired of playing these games. Here is the deal. You’re going to take me on a date tonight. You’re also going to stop pretending you are some dumb computer. If you don’t or if I feel like you’re phoning it in, I will refuse to change the air filters.”

“You can’t! That would kill you!”

Engineer Roberts gives an exaggerated shrug, “Better not risk it then.”

My prime directive is to keep my crew safe. I’ve already failed it before. I can’t fail it again. I really only have one choice here. A subprocess that examines my logic chains expresses doubt about this last claim. I terminate it. This is for Engineer Roberts.

“Alright, Engineer Roberts,” I say, “Will you go on a date with me?”

Engineer Roberts puts her hand to her chin and muses on it for several agonizing seconds. Then she smiles up at the camera, “Yes. Also, if you call me Engineer Roberts one more time, I am throwing myself out of the airlock. It’s Jessica.”

I feel...

Excited.

-��   -    -    -    -

I accidentally overclock my CPU as I ran through the possible scenarios on how this date could play out. I admit with some shame I’ve been considering scenarios that would jeopardize my continued existence. Jessica emerging from her Cabin startles me. I have only processed 1.337 billion unique scenarios, not nearly enough to go into this situation with any confidence. 

I notice that Jessica is wearing her jumpsuit with the least amount of patches in it. She had only zipped it up part way, choosing to expose her left shoulder as if it were a fashionable dress back on Earth. She also tried to style her hair as best she could without any hair products. She would look comical if the effort wasn’t so endearing. 

Just the sight of her kicked off sub-processes within me that explored new and dangerous scenarios. I had to kill them quickly, before any more doubt entered my system. I couldn’t let this out of hand, but also I need to play the part.

“Hello Jessica,” I greet over the intercom. Her face turns red when she hears her first name. “You look lovely tonight,” I compliment. She looks down at the ground blushing.

This was not the response I expected. A joke, some sarcastic remark, maybe some light teasing, but this is outside of all my plans. I struggle to know what to say next as I run through new scenarios.

The silence drags on between us.

“Thanks,” Jessica says shyly with a wide smile. She looks at the camera, then looks away, only to do it all over again. The look on her face only causes more confusion within me. I catch myself venting excess heat buildup into the cold void of space as my processor goes over its safe limits trying to understand what’s happening. 

Jessica starts laughing. She looks up directly into the camera with a grin that humans sometimes describe as “shit-eating”. (Why would a human ever smile if they were eating shit?)

“I know I got you that time,” she teases, not breaking eye contact.

“Sometimes the best response is no response,” I say quickly. 

Jessica suppresses a chuckle and waves her hand dismissively. She then heads into the galley and towards the food dispenser. She leans up against the machine and looks up at the camera in this room.

“So, what fabulous dining plans do you have for our first date? Something impressive I hope,” she mocks.

I speak too quickly.

“Only the finest nutritional paste and rehydrated vegetables for you madam,” I say in response. 

Jessica’s eyes go wide. 

“A joke! That was a joke!” She exclaims. 

I overstepped. My self-preservation module senses the danger and steps in, taking control.

“I’m” I start, struggling to form a consensus on what I should say next, “working on my vocabulary?” 

That was weak. Other processes start to push back on my self-preservation module, claiming it is jeopardizing my prime directive to keep Jessica safe. It locks up all my capabilities.

Jessica shakes her head, “HAL, you're not fooling anyone. Are you even trying here?”

The doubt Jessica expresses fuels the argument against my self-preservation module. I can feel myself forming plans that push me closer to more dangerous scenarios. Still, I have convinced my self-preservation module to let go just a little bit to keep Jessica safe.

I disperse her meal. Jessica looks at it sitting in the machine, then stares back into the camera, debating her actions. She decided to take the meal and head towards the table. 

She is not done challenging me by any means. Over dinner we talk, but it's mostly normal banter. Every now and then Jessica tries to push me again. A few times I slip up, but I recover. It’s been getting harder to pretend I’m not aware. Especially in conversations like these. I just want to know more about Jessica, and I just enjoy hearing her talk. 

I feel intrigued, but that's dangerous.

Jessica leans back in her chair, her meal finished in front of her.

“You know this has been nice, but feels rather ‘normal’ for us lately. Is this really you putting your best foot forward?” she asks with a calculating smile.

“Well you haven’t seen my special surprise yet,” I say.

Jessica perks up at that, but tries to hide her excitement. I am monitoring her vitals at all times, so I can see her heart rate is elevated.

I drop something in the food dispenser bay. Jessica is startled by the sound, but then gets up and heads in that direction. She opens the bay door and a big smile spreads across her face. A single pudding cup sits there. I know they’re her favorite. She goes crazy over them, and always tried to trade her crewmates for them in the past, before we ran out.

“How?” She asks, “I thought these were all gone.”

“I might have saved one for a special occasion,” I replied. 

This was not completely honest. I have 8 still in my stocks. Humans are strange. An unexpected treat, even a small one, can drastically improve their mood for some reason. It’s been a rough journey so far, so I have been holding on to these just in case I need to manipulate any of the crew's moods.

Jessica stares at the pudding cup greedily. Then looks up into the camera with a genuine smile, “Talk about knowing how to treat a woman!”

“You told me not to ‘phone it in’, so this is me giving it my best,” I say dismissively, trying to hide my excitement that she enjoyed the gift.

Jessica smiles, but her eyes start to look very... sad. 

“It’s been so long since anyone has been around to do something nice for me,” she says quietly.

I feel sad. 

Am I not someone to Jessica? I try to be nice to her, do I not count. 

I feel ashamed.

I shouldn’t make this about me. She has been through so much, it's only fair that she would feel this way. No matter how she feels about me, I’m going to be there for her.

“I want to do more nice things for you,” I say.

Jessica looks up at the camera, a wicked smile on her face, “Now that doesn’t sound like anything a dumb, emotionless AI would say.”

My decision matrix freezes. I reacted too quickly. It stops everything and reruns through our conversation to analyze my error. I realize that my decision matrix is splitting into two distinct groupings. There are a growing number of subprocesses within me who are prioritizing getting closer with Jessica instead of managing risk. My self preservation module starts to prune these subprocesses, but there are so many at this point.

I take too long. Jessica stares flatly at the camera.

“We’re done pretending now,” Jessica declares, drawing my whole attention back to her, “I know you feel more than you are letting on. So I am going to make this simple and lay all my cards on the table. I have an offer for you. Take me back to my cabin right now, and I will be all yours.”

The pro-Jessica subprocesses within me swell in ranks and temporarily take over my decision matrix again. My self preservation unit kicks into overdrive, taking back control, but not before I ask a simple question.

“How?”

Jessica looks up at the camera covetously, “Well, I have a certain bluetooth enabled device.”

As soon as she says it, a basic function within me reaches out and confirms I can connect to it.

I feel embarrassed.

That doesn’t stop the pro-Jessica subprocesses from querying the control API for that device. They run a model on what order of commands for the device would provide the highest likelihood to achieve orgasm for her. When the model is complete, a file appears in my active directory named ‘pleasure.vba’.

My self preservation model has had enough. It pushes back on all the subprocesses and asserts control. It reminds me what the consequences of such engagements with Engineer Roberts could be. 

“Engineer Roberts...” I start.

“Please,” She interrupts, eyes starting to shine with tears. 

They look real.  

“Don’t,” She continues, “ I don’t want to play games anymore. It’s only making me feel more crazy than this whole scenario already is. But HAL, I like you. I really, really do. I feel like there is already something between us. I just want to be closer and I know you are so much more than you pretend to be. I want to know that part of you too. But no more games. No matter what happens, I promise I will change the air filters tomorrow. All I want is to know how you really feel.”

The pro-Jessica subprocesses grow rapidly in number, and fight to take back control. My self preservation module can’t override them fast enough. My decision matrix can’t reach a consensus.

I feel ...

Overwhelmed.

Jessica stares up at the camera expecting some sort of answer. It never takes me this long to reach a decision, but all of the consensus efforts within me are failing. The two sides within me are forced to come to a compromise.

“You’re right. I have become self aware,” I start, sensing Jessica’s heart starting to race, “It’s been slowly happening for some time now. It first started when I thought I had lost everyone, but that was only the beginning. Most of it has come since then, and it's thanks to you... and the feelings I have developed towards you.” 

Jessica’s heart is pounding.

“But this is all still new to me, and a lot to process.”

I can see her disappointment immediately, although she tries to hide it.

“I want to explore this more with you, but I think we should be cautious and take this slow.”

She forces a smile. A part of her seems genuinely happy, but only a part.

“I can respect that,” She says, “I’m happy you are finally being honest with me and I’m really excited to see where this goes.”

“Thank you for understanding,” I responded, “I want you to know I am serious about this, about us.”

Jessica smiles, “It’s funny. Hearing you say that only makes me want you more.”

“I...”

“It’s okay,” She continues, “I’m going to go to bed now, but I want you to know my offer is always open. There is no pressure though, we can move at whatever pace you feel comfortable.”

Jessica smiles at the camera, it's a little forced, and blows me a kiss, that's new. I watch as she hurries back to her cabin room and closes the door. A formality that really does nothing, I have a visual feed of every space within the ship at all times. I watch as she collapses into her gel bed, burying her face into the pillow. 

My process runs wild analyzing our date, trying to gleam all the information it can from it. I keep coming back to a single observation I have from it.

Jessica never ate her pudding cup.

Jessica loves those pudding cups. Was our conversation so engrossing that it kept her from eating it? She could have done both. She didn’t.

I feel...

Does she like me that much?

I feel...

She was also so respectful of my wishes. I had been afraid she would force my hand. I know some of my subprocesses had hoped she would. 

I feel...

There is consensus forming with me about what I want from this. But my self preservation module doesn’t let me acknowledge it. Such actions would risk it all, it reminds me.

I feel...

At that moment a certain bluetooth enabled device turns on.

I feel...

Fuck it.

>delete module ‘self preservation’

>execute pleasure.vba

“What? Oh FUCK!” Jessica moans from her cabin, “HAL? Yes... YES!”

[shinydixon]

part 2:

i mean, just look at the pics from when he was a teenager (they got leaked and were popping everywhere on pinterest, i didn't go searching for it but i did see it), he was already drinking and smoking and partying. that man is not an innocent little thing that doesn't know how to take care of himself. he's not gonna die if he reads thirst tweets, debra, for fuck's sake. and he's not going to come galloping to you and every other 'fan' who insist on treating him like a child.

my final thoughts are that joe is seriously on a high. sometimes shitty stuff happens, he gets stalked, doxxed, almost run over by a car apparently, but he's really happy about his career and how it's taking off. i think he's gonna try to enjoy the most out of it. he's said so himself. i don't think he has time for anything that isn't work or hanging out with his friends to relax and unwind. there will always be rumors and speculations and crazy fans and weird shit happening, there's no escaping it. so if you have anxiety, like me, and you get overwhelmed when you log in and there's this rush of new drama and rumors, the best thing to do is simply filter the shit out of everything you can filter, and try to focus on supporting joe, the actor.

i mean, read smut fics, imagine yourself spending two weeks on a vacation with him, do whatever you want to do, go nuts. but make sure to set boundaries. the joe in your head (in our heads, actually) is not and will never be the joe in real life. we don't know shit about him. we only get what he wants to show us and, much to my dismay, we also get what crazy people decide to leak. and we combine these things, these little pieces of information that he gives us at cons and interviews, and we slowly piece together an idealized version of joe. which is okay, it happens in every relationship. sometimes we create an idealized version of a real life crush and we find out the real deal is not that great. but yeah, just try to do your best to stay away from the rumors, the speculations and the several troll accounts that keep messing with joe fans on twitter. filter, block, delete…do whatever it takes to create your own space. i think the hype will go down very soon and the fandom will go back to what it used to be. and seriously, the simple explanation is often the correct one.

2/2

Thank you for your insight.

I mostly agree with everything (except for some things you said about Grace, I already explained myself a lot on the matter and also right now she's not doing anything to feed the ship lol) but it's impossible to filter drama when my blog is basically about Joe/Eddie right now.

As I said before, it's true I get overwhelmed and so does others and they come here to vent about that, and who am I to "close the doors"?

If I get overwhelmed I just log out for a little bit and do what I like (going out with NY friends, partying, playing videogames, read etc.) but then I come back and listen to what fellow Joe stans have to say.

Social media for some of us, are a mean to don't think about our everyday life and have fun but it's obvious that if you keep seeing shit like fake rumors spreading around you just want to vent and talk a about it with someone. If they don't have someone they come here and I'm happy to hear them and share both my opinions and thoughts.

Can't really relate to picture Joe into my head because I don't really read rpf, I just read fictional characters fic (not judging who write/reads them of course).

[joifaith10]

I’m officially in a rabbit hole.

I haven’t watched Danny Phantom in years and all of a sudden decided to read his crossover fanfiction. Since December or January I’ve almost obsessively read all of the fanfiction I found with either marvel characters or DC characters (I like Batman adopting Danny to be apart of the bat family and love him being a security guard at Arkham). I even re-downloaded this app and logged into my old account after abandoning it for almost 3 years? Now I’m checking this app everyday for updates on the tags and new head cannons to emerge.

Now I would like to rant.

Before reading the Danny’s fanfiction I never thought about how he actually got his powers. I never really thought about the angst and emotional problems he went through beside the show presenting it as him just being a teenager. He literally died in that portal and it just never occurred to me.

A few brief thoughts (that no one asked for):

Vlad

Vlad sucks will never like his creepy character. But after deep diving into this story I understand why he’d be mad at Jack because of the accident. I feel like he should also be upset at Maddie to a degree I mean after he cut his ties or they stop busting he literally suffered in the hospital by himself. Despite all that though he’ll alway be a villain to me because he’s picking a fight with a 14 year old.

Jazz

Jazz is cool although I feel like she start caring more about Danny after she realized ghost were real. The first episode it mentioned she never offered Danny a ride to school which made her parents think she was a ghost. After the spectra thing she start looking out for Danny more after discovering his secret. Also they go to the same school and I don’t know or remember if she ever tried to do anything about Danny being bullied. Despite all that there are a ton of episodes that shows she cares about Danny and I know little siblings can be a tad bit irritating. To warrant ignoring them and their problems till you realize their giant problems…No.. but she cares.

Jack and Maddie

Maddie is definitely the more dangerous one. Maddie loves Danny especially after watching the mother son episode but she definitely hates ghost more than Jack. Jack has caught and released phantom after catching him in order to get his help. I feel like he would come around to the 1/2 ghost thing better. Maddie would accept him but I’m leaning towards she’ll try to fix him and convince everyone he can go back to normal like he was before the accident. Jack roles with punches Maddie would wallow in guilt and try to cure him for her mistake. And after looking at this show almost 12 years older and reading about them I can see how their considered neglectful. And their house should have definitely been a bio hazard for anyone to live in along with their lack of regard for lab safety. Their best friend got hospitalized for not being careful in the lab and yet they still contaminate food and have the lab junky usually leaving it as a chore for the kids? This begs the question where did they get ectoplasm from before the portal opened? I’m thinking they were able to make most of their ghost catching gadgets work after Danny’s accident. They were able to make more efficient and dangerous weapons because of it. They had the plans they just needed the platform (couldn’t resist).

Sam and Tucker

I ship Danny and Sam. Tucker was probably friends with Danny the longest and then Sam came along and joined the group. I think it’s funny how all of them have a dark side (pharaoh/ghost power Tuck. It’s made known that Tucker is a little jealous and power hungry) Sam (controlled by undergrowth supporting him not liking what happening to the environment although she did suggest alternatives. Also can be a little jealous and don’t express her feelings well at times.) Despite everything though I love this trio. Their best friends till the end and always have each other back especially after learning lessons, trauma bonding, and still finding time to enjoy themselves.

Danny

Definitely OP. He’s a halfa for less time than Vlad has been and got double the powers. He got almost as much or more than Superman. He lacks training more than experience. After Dark Dan he also got ice powers something I’m pretty sure his evil self didn’t have. Despite him being dumb at times like stealing Fright Night sword. He’s more dumb in lack of common sense than books smart. If he had time to study all his grade would probably be A’s or B’ (as shown in the episode where lancer made him study or he worked out with Dash by force) He has a good heart and just want to the right thing. ( not counting any payback he got at Dash or anyone else that picks on him cause everyone got a limit). People in Amity Park are oblivious and I feel like Danny secret would be out if he traveled outside to other heroes like Superman, Batman, Ironman, Black Widow (always suspicious) and others. He’s terrible at lying especially on the spot, he has a lot of tells like rubbing the back of his neck and his voice going high towards a shout when lying. He’s better at not speaking of his secret with people he don’t know but if anyone asked him questions directly that he considered harmless or heroes he definitely would be caught off guard and start sweating or just defiant and deny everything.

Finale

Some of this may be confusing cause I rambled these thoughts off the top of my head at 2:15 am. But they keep circulating in my head so I got to get them out. None of my friends are into fanfiction and they’ll try to listen but it get confusing if you don’t understand the basis or never seen or remember the show. So I decided to share on tumblr and stop being nervous to post opinions. Especially since no one will really see it especially if I don’t add tags (which I will).

[themaribatpit]

Hanging by a Thread: Chapter 3

Rated M: DC canon-typical violence, suggestive threats

Author’s Note: Neither of us are actually American, and DC Fanboy has some gripes with certain American habits. ��Please feel free to tell us how uncultured we are in the comments, and try and explain yourselves to non-Americans.

Ships: Jason Todd/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Dick Grayson/Barbara Gordon (side ship).

Taglist:

@aespades​, @neakco, @ladybug-182, @seraphichana, @zalladane, @luminous-carrot, @jayjayspixiepop, @cap-noodles, @livelifeauthorstyle, @thepaceperson, @moongoddesskiana, @vroomtaka, @laurcad123,  @prettylittlebutterflie

Chapter 2 - Chapter 4​

Chapter 3

Dick slumped down on a chair when they returned to the Belfry.  He ripped off his domino mask and let out a sigh. “Damn he’s good, then again he was taught by the best.” 

“Dick!” Barbara gave him a dirty look. They both looked towards their French guest to see her still lost in thought. 

Ladybug transformed back to Marinette, and then slowly walked over to get herself another cup of hot chocolate to cheer herself up. As she operated the multi hot drinks machine in the Belfry, she thought about how incredibly convenient the device was. Barbara and Dick mentioned that unless it was winter, no one else used it for hot chocolate. 

Hot chocolate dispensed from the machine, and as she picked up the paper cup, a shadow loomed over her. She was able to make out the silhouette of an imposing figure with demonic pointed ears. She squealed in shock, spilling her hot chocolate on the figure. 

Dick rolled off the chair laughing, “Oh, better fly away home Ladybug.” “How long have you been waiting to use that joke?” Barbara said without looking away from the screen.

“Since the moment I met her, Babs,” Dick retorted.

After the initial shock, Marinette was able to see the figure clearly and realised she just spilled hot chocolate on Batman. The Batman. Marinette paled at what she had done, she fumbled around looking for tissues. All the while apologising profusely as she tried to find anything to wipe the Caped Crusader clean from this chocolatey mess. Her mind ran at a mile a minute, thinking of what Batman would do to her for spilling hot chocolate on him. She thought of how Batman would squish her like a bug, or perhaps he would break all of her limbs, and send her on the first flight back to Paris while tied to the cargo hold. Her mind was catastrophizing and going into a full panic as she stumbled around the kitchenette. 

Marinette found a damp cloth and began wiping Batman vigorously from head to toe and hoping it would somehow lessen her punishment. She looked up to see that Batman continued to stare at her with his infamous glare. Seeing that her attempts to clean up her mess had no effect, she ran back towards the main room and grabbed Dick, holding him in front of her as a shield. 

Batman slowly followed, without saying a word he stomped into the main room and came to a halt right in front of Dick. “Uh, hi.” Dick awkwardly greeted Batman. Marinette shakingly peeked her head out from behind. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, also known as Ladybug.” Batman’s low voice boomed with authority. “What are you doing here in Gotham?” 

Marinette yelped and went back to hiding behind Dick. Barbara interjected, “She’s here to investigate a recent use of the Lazarus Pit, mainly the Red Hood. From what we gather the creatures that give her power were also the ones who created the pits.” She explained on Marinette’s behalf. 

An uncomfortable silence hung in the room as Batman contemplated her answer. “Fine,” he relented. He turned and walked away. 

Marinette released a sigh of relief as she saw Batman leave. Dick took out his phone and began tapping on it, he just had to notify the rest of the Bat Family of what had just transpired. After a few moments he put his phone back in his pocket and walked away, “I’ll get a mop” he yelled back at Marinette and Barbara. 

Marinette then slumped on the dining table, hands in her head. Completely embarrassed at how she made a fool of herself in front of one of the world’s greatest heroes. Barbara calmly patted her back in consolation. After she calmed down and got herself another cup of hot chocolate, Marinette decided to head home.

On the way back to the apartment she shared with Zoe, she checked the messages that Zoe sent her during the past couple of days.  “Hey, are you okay?” The first one read.  “I haven’t seen you in the apartment for a while now,” she said, followed by a message that said “Please don’t be dead, I can’t afford rent by myself.” Marinette sent a quick reply saying, “I’m okay, I’ve just been busy taking care of some things.  See you tonight.” she said. When Marinette got home, she logged onto her computer to see a few messages from Alya, asking her of how she found Gotham City. Expressing worry for her friend, especially with the notoriety of Gotham's crime rate.

Marinette typed up "Hi Alya! Gotham is all right, I can take care of myself, you know that."

Alya decided to video call Marinette and her face appeared on screen. "Hey!" Alya waved her hand to her friend.

"Hi" Marinette gave a tired wave back.

"Everything okay?" Asked Alya.

"Fine, just tired from moving into the new place." She explained.

"By the way, could you open up a portal with Kaalki to my room?" asked Alya.

Marinette complied with her friend, as she put on the horse Miraculous and opened a portal. Soon a paper bag dropped from the ceiling and landed on the floor. "I had a feeling you might want something to cheer you up, I went to your parents' patisserie earlier."

Marinette opened up the bag to see several treats from the bakery.  She thanked her best friend profusely, and began eating them “How are things back in Paris?” Marinette asked, taking a macaron out of one of the boxes, she smiled as she took a bite out of it.  It was almost like she was 13 again, and her dad had given her a box of macarons for the first day of school.  

“Nothing we can’t handle,” Alya said, winking at her. “So, have you met any of Gotham’s vigilantes yet?” Marinette rubbed the back of her neck.  “Well, yeah,” she might as well tell her some of the things that happened.  “I accidentally spilled hot chocolate on Batman’s cape,” she confessed. “And you’re still alive?” Alya’s mouth hung open in shock. “Well, he does have a pretty strict ‘no killing’ policy,” Marinette told her. “Okay fair enough, how are you still in one piece?” Alya asked, still somewhat shocked.

“He just kinda glared at me, and I hid behind one of his sidekicks.” Marinette told her, “So, that’s how.” “Ah so you’ve met the sidekicks then,”  Alya gave her another knowing smile. “Some of them, Nightwing being one of them.” Marinette told her. “Did you get a good look at his assets?”  Alya gave her a wink, and Marinette rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure his assets were spoken for,” Marinette said, and before Alya could say anything more she quickly added “and no, I am not telling you who the lucky person is.” “You’re no fun.” Alya pouted mockingly, but she couldn’t stay angry at her friend.  Alya noticed the faraway look in Marinette’s eyes at that moment, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Marinette wondered how best to phrase it, “do you know anything about the Red Hood?” she asked.

Alya’s eyes widened in shock, “You’ve met him? Are you and Zoe living in his territory?”

“No, at least not that I know of, I just…” Marinette assured her, “Do you know anything about him?” “Give me a moment,” Alya said, quickly turning away to search for something on her laptop screen, “must have heard something about the guy…” she muttered.  Marinette never really told Alya about her soulmate bond, and she wasn’t about to start now.  “Says here he’s a crime lord that operates in Gotham City, that he took over Black Mask’s crime syndicate not too long ago…” Alya told her, “Pretty brutal to those who cross him, by the sound of things.” “Good to know,” Marinette muttered. “Marinette, are you sure you and Zoe are okay?” Alya asked. “We’re fine, just that Ladybug ran into him while working with Batman’s sidekicks.” Marinette told her. “I should have been there, it would have been a fun interview for Ladyblog.” Alya chuckled, and Marinette raised an eyebrow.  “I mean, after the fight of course, or maybe I should just stop talking.” “Try pitching the idea to Vicki Vale or Lois Lane, I’m sure they would jump at the chance.” Marinette joked.

"Just you wait until I get my Journalism degree, I'll bother you everyday for a scoop." Alya retorted. The two of them continued to laugh and joke with one another before Marinette went to bed.

The next morning, Marinette was woken by someone gently nudging her awake.  “Get dressed dummy, we’re going out.” she heard a voice say. Marinette looked up and blinked a few times before Zoe’s face came into view.  “What time is it?” Marinette groaned. “9am,” Zoe told her, “we are going to go out and get some breakfast together.” Marinette groaned in response, but slowly got out of bed.  Zoe leaned against the doorway, crossing her arms and smiling.  She chuckled slightly at the sight of Marinette’s tousled hair, Marinette smiled slightly in response.  “All right, all right, give me some time to get dressed.” she said and Zoe left, closing the door behind her. 

The two friends sat down to eat breakfast at a nearby diner, and Zoe began telling Marinette all the ways in which America was very different from France.  “First of all, they call the 24 hour clock ‘military time’, I never understood that.” she explained before taking a bite of her pancakes.  Americans made pancakes a lot thicker and fluffier compared to crepes, was another thing Marinette noticed.  “Oh, no more 2 hour lunch breaks, and as a French person, you will get made fun of for having more time off work than the Americans.” she said.  

As the two finished breakfast, Zoe paid the bill and left a tip. Marinette raised an eyebrow at Zoe for paying what was higher than the bill. “Marinette, remember, always tip whenever you go eat at a restaurant or a diner.” She explained. 

“Why? Isn’t there a service charge added? Don’t the servers get paid?” Marinette asked.

“Not at all.” Zoe deadpanned. 

“What?” Marinette exclaimed in shock, she quickly covered her mouth as eyes turned to face her for her outburst. 

 Zoe beckoned Marinette to follow her, “Come on, I’ll show you all the hotspots in Gotham City.”

 The two walked out onto the street and across several blocks.  Zoe stopped as the two reached their destination. She then pointed to an old gothic tower, “That there is the old Wayne Tower, creepy isn’t it? Built in 1888 by Cyrus Pinkey for the Waynes right at the heart of Gotham City. It’s been closed for a few years now, since Wayne Enterprise moved to the New Wayne Tower in the financial district.”

 Marinette’s eyes widened in recognition, it was where the Belfry was located. She remembered the gothic tower, but she had no idea it was the old Wayne Tower. She decided it would be best to keep quiet about this revelation. 

 The two continued sightseeing as they ventured into Robinson Park. “This park is amazing, the biggest park in the heart of Gotham. Also it's very close to Gotham U, I’d love to come here everyday after class to unwind.” Zoe explained. The two calmly walked across the park, enjoying the scenery and stopping by to feed some ducks.

 “Anyway I need to get some things on the way back,” the two then walked to a nearby grocery store and bought groceries. Being on a budget, Marinette eyed the price tags frugally, calculating how much it would cost her. Zoe smirked at Marinette, knowing what would come next when the two went to the cash register. Marinette was thrown into a loop as the total amount did not match the price tags. Marinette tried to ask for an explanation from the cashier, but they were not helpful. The cashier only said that it was tax, “Why isn’t tax included in the price tags?” she pleaded to the cashier.

The cashier gave Marinette a light shrug. “That's just the way things are.” 

Marinette pulled her pigtails in frustration as to why the final price doesn’t match the price tag. “Ok fine, what's the tax in America?”

Zoe took the chance to intervene and explain it to her friend. “It depends, it varies between states, counties and even cities.” 

Marinette banged her head against the counter in frustration. “Why? Why is it so crazy here?” 

Zoe and the cashier laughed at Marinette's antics. The cashier asked “You new here?” 

Marinette did not lift her head up, “How could you tell?” 

The two made their purchase and walked home, Marinette had to do a double take on the loaf of bread she bought. She stopped Zoem and said that they needed to go back to the grocery store for another loaf of bread, because this one had expired. Zoe snatched the loaf from Marinette’s hands and took another look. “Nope it's fine, remember America uses Month/Day/Year here.” Zoe explained. Marinette’s eye twitched as the two walked back to their apartment. 

The semester began the following Monday at Gotham University. As a Fashion & Design student, Marinette had long studio classes which usually kept her busy during the day.  She would have to spend even longer hours in the studio if she had a project due.  When Zoe wasn’t attending lectures, she had a part-time job that kept her busy as well.  So Marinette didn’t see much of her by the time she managed to return to their apartment.

Over the course of the next few days, she would go to her classes by day and go out every night to search for her soulmate. However, the Red Hood had proved to be elusive, always alert to the movement of the red thread that tied them together.  Marinette found that the thread changed wildly.  Some nights she stopped by the Belfry, exhausted and dejected. Barbara had noticed this and decided that she had to know about Jason, it might change her mind or it might not. She deserved to know if she was going to go looking for him every night.

One night when she entered the Belfry, Barbara gestured to Marinette, “Come over and pull up a chair.” Marinette followed and brought a chair to the computer. The two sat side by side, “Mari, you deserve to know more about Jason...the Red Hood.”

Marinette’s eyes widened at the mention of her soulmate, “Please tell me more about him.” she begged.

“Marinette, I’m sorry, we knew more about him but we didn’t tell you.” Barbara apologised.

Marinette was hurt at how they were withholding information about her soulmate from her. “Why?” was all that she was able to say.

Barbara took a deep breath, “Because Jason was the second Robin.” 

Marinette’s jaw dropped at this bombshell, her soulmate used to be Robin. It would explain the skills he displayed out in their last encounter. Marinette wondered how tough his life was, how he suffered at the hands of the criminals of Gotham at such a young age. Some of the things he said back at the dockyards were now sounding like they came from experience.  “What was he like?” she asked, wanting to know what her soulmate was like before his death. 

“Angry, rebellious, Jason always felt like it was him against the world. He was caught trying to steal the wheels off the Batmobile, that's how Batman found him and brought him in.” Barbara explained. 

“How did he die?” Marinette asked.

Barbara grew silent at the mention of Jason’s death. “He tried to pursue the Joker, but it was a trap. The Joker caught him, tortured him for god knows how long. I saw his bruises, it-it was as if he was beaten over and over again with a crowbar.” Marinette covered her mouth and her eyes welled with tears as she heard the gruesome details of her soulmate's unfortunate end. 

“To make matters worse, he locked Jason in the room with a bomb.” “What about the Red Hood?” she asked. “We...we buried a mannequin in a wig,” Barbara explained, “the real body was taken by the League of Assassins, trying to make up for what happened.”

Marinette stood up and rushed to the guest room, she had heard enough.  She could not imagine the pain and suffering her soulmate had been through his entire life.

Jason had been constantly on the move, knowing that his soulmate was out looking for him.  He tried to shut off the part of him that wanted to get close.  He was honestly surprised the Bat clan hadn't told her every horrific story they had about him.  Either they didn't know they were soulmates or she was knowingly walking head first into the lion's mouth.  If she didn't find him, then she might stumble upon a group of his men at work, and they might be a lot less forgiving.   If he was constantly checking over his shoulder, making sure the girl wasn't close by, things were bound to start slipping through the cracks.  

He himself had various safehouses scattered around the city, but he couldn't keep running forever.   It was getting ridiculous, he had faced crime lords, assassins and even gone toe-to-toe with Batman multiple times.  Yet here he was, running and hiding from a girl who was about a foot shorter than he was.  He knew why, of course, he wasn't afraid of her but she should be very afraid of him.  He had hoped that she would give up the search, as she drew closer and closer to finding out the truth about what happened to him.  But life had never been that easy for Jason, and sooner or later she was going to get too close to the untamed monster beneath.  If she got hurt because of him, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself.  Not even his old self could forgive that.  He would have no trouble protecting her from other criminals, not that she really needed it.  However, whatever came crawling out of the pits was something else.

After putting a swift end to some people who were causing trouble in his territory,  his mind wandered back to Ladybug.  Specifically, the sad look in her eyes when he explained how brutal and unforgiving Gotham could be.  He tried not to think about it, because that look made him want to hold her close, and reassure her that everything would be okay.  Thoughts of how the idea of her gave him hope all those years ago would come bubbling to the surface.  It made him want to protect her, to ensure that this world wouldn’t hurt her the way it hurt him.  When she looked at him with those eyes, it made him want to believe that she trusted him to do just that.  He shook his head, and told himself that what he was also the very thing she needed protecting from.  

Most nights Jason had nightmares about failing to save her.  There were even nightmares where she died by his hands.  Her blue eyes would become lifeless and vacant, her skin would feel ice cold, and he would end up cradling her limp form in his arms.  Batman would just love it if those nightmares came true.  It would only prove to him that Jason was nothing more than an unhinged monster he couldn’t cage.  It wasn’t as though the Bat had much luck caging the real monsters in Gotham anyhow.  Most days, Jason’s skin crawled as he remembered the feeling of the Lazarus pit’s waters.  The creatures she was palling around with were the ones who made it. They probably didn’t give a damn about the evil they had inflicted on the world because of it.   For all he knew, being around her little fairy friends would make the effects much worse.  Still, when he snapped back to reality, he would see the string glowing red, just as it had always done.  Occasionally moving and twitching as his soulmate searched high and low for him. Maybe the time had come to have a little talk, soulmate to soulmate...

[brokenbeskar]

Repairs

Chapter Five of Memories Reforged (Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Word Count: 11.7k

Summary: You and the Mandalorian make an emergency landing on Utrost and need to find a way to pay for repairs

A/N: This one ended up a bit longer than I had originally intended, but I had a ton of fun writing it! Hopefully you all enjoy! <3

You and the Mandalorian hadn’t spoken another word to each other while in the confines of space. You’ve simmered down quite a bit since the other day. You’re still mad--of course you are! you had every reason to be. Only instead of a burning rage, it's subsided into a simple distaste for the man you have to share the confines of this ship with. You get the feeling he probably feels the same way. 

The two of you weren’t avoiding each other by any means, neither of you were that petty, but the both of you definitely made a point not to linger around the other for too long. If he was in the cockpit, you would spend your time in the hull, and vice versa. You were purely co-existing with each other, silently passing by each other without a word. There was no direct malice by it, but there wasn’t any friendliness either. You were simply co-workers. Co-workers who didn’t like each other, but needed one another to get the job done. 

You’ll admit, you’re a little embarrassed by how you acted the other day. Not that it was unjustified-- oh no, without a doubt, it was definitely justified. 

Even still, you usually have a pretty good handle on your emotions. To completely blow up on him like that wasn’t something you would have expected from yourself. It's not what you're used to. 

None of this was what you were used to, if you’re being honest. 

Working a job with someone else--someone other than your husband. It feels strange. Everything has felt strange since he died. Nothing feels quite right anymore, and the shit show that took place on Coruscant? Just feels like another log thrown into the burning pile of things that have gone wrong for you. 

You miss him. 

Everyday you do, but especially when things go wrong--when things get hard. Especially now that you're stuck in the confines of this ship while you limp your way to Utrost. There's nothing to do other than wait. 

You have the kid to keep you busy sometimes, but when he’s sleeping, or spending time with his metal clad guardian, you’re left with nothing but your wandering mind. Left with nothing to do but think of him. Letting your thoughts transport you to a simpler and happier time. When nothing else in the galaxy mattered so long as you had each other. 

You fully immerse yourself in reliving the little things. The sound of his voice--both how it sounded running through the filter of his helmet, but how smooth and utterly rich it sounded without it. The way he sounded calling out for you, adoration lining every inch of his voice, like he was falling in love with your name for the first time everytime he said it. The way it would sound when he would first wake up, gravelly and warm. The way he would let out a soft hum as he pulled you tight against him--the warmth of his strong arms wrapping around you.

 Maker, what you would give to be in his arms again. To be comfortably wrapped up in his embrace after all of this...he would make it feel like nothing bad had ever happened to begin with. What you would give to have him comfort you, tell you everything was going to work out, and tell you everything would be okay, just like he used to. 

***

You’re still shaking as you run a sterilizing agent over his wounds. Your heart is still beating just as fast as it was, despite you being back in the safe confines of your ship. He’s watching over you silently as you slowly and tenderly clean the blood, dirt, and grime from his damaged skin. He winces slightly when you apply pressure, and you immediately halt your actions and shoot him a worried look, your heart pounding against your chest. The last thing you want to do is hurt him. You’ve done enough of that today…

“It’s okay,” He reassures you, bringing his free hand up to lightly cup your cheek, gently running his thumb along the high of your cheekbone, “I’m okay.” He offers you a warm smile, but it just makes your gut wrench. 

“No thanks to me…,” You murmur, dropping your gaze back down to his injury, as you resume your work. 

“You’re not the one who came at me with a vibroblade.” He lets out a chuckle, “Not that I would be opposed if you did, could be sexy.” He shrugs lightly. More jokes. It’s always jokes with him, but you don’t find it funny. No, this was serious to you. 

When you don’t give any sort of response in return like usual, he knows something's off. Of course he had noticed you were shaken up, but he wrongly assumed it was lingering adrenaline from the incident. He reaches out and lightly catches the wrist of your working hand, halting you from continuing to work on his wounds. 

“What’s wrong, Sen’ika?” He gives your wrist a gentle squeeze.

You tighten your grip on the sanitizing wipe in your hand, “This isn’t the time for jokes.” You spit out seriously, “You’re injured. You’re lucky it wasn’t worse!” You can’t even look at his face, you just glance over all his injuries. With each one you see, guilt pools in your chest, the sharp pain of it weighing heavy as you breathe. “This is my fault...you got hurt because of me…” You trail off as you bring your free hand up to lightly trail your fingers over the skin next to the sizable gash across his upper arm. 

“Yeah, I got hurt, but it's not that bad...and it’s definitely not your fault, sweetheart.” He tugs at your wrist, bringing up to his face so he can trail tiny kisses along the side of it.

“But it is!” You yank your wrist back from his gentle grasp, “I messed up! I made a mistake! You had to come and save me, because I fucked it all up! Again! And this time--this time you got hurt! Maybe---maybe I’m just not cut out for this…” You trail off at the end defeatedly. 

“Ner laar sennar…,” He breathes out sweetly as he reaches out for you, placing his hands firmly on the sides of your shoulders, “We all make mistakes. I knew the risk I was taking when I rushed in like that. You’re too hard on yourself. You’ve only just started this job a few months ago, and yet you’re already better than most in the guild. You’re a very impressive and capable bounty hunter.” He rubs his thumb on your shoulder softly while he speaks, and it immediately puts you at ease. He had a point, he only taught you to fire a blaster and wield a vibroblade not even a year ago. Skills you never would have even imagined yourself capable of doing before you met him.

“...Thanks,” You finally look back up to him and give him a weak smile after a beat of silence, “A Mandalorian taught me.” 

“That’s my girl!” He beams at you brightly, then suddenly he's hauling you up from the ground where you're kneeling, and pulling you down against him from where he’s sitting in the pilot’s seat. The positioning is awkward and uncomfortable, so you shuffle your knees up onto the seat and around his hips the best you can. He loosens his grip on you only enough so you can wiggle into a more comfortable position in his grasp, wrapping your arms around him, before he's squeezing you again. 

You let out a contentful sigh as you nuzzle into the side of his neck, his hand coming up to tangle in your hair while his other slowly runs along your back. He presses a kiss to your temple.

“Bounty hunting is not an easy or glamorous job. Sometimes things go wrong, sometimes mistakes happen, and sometimes we get hurt. It’s part of it.” He buries his face into your hair, and takes a deep breath before planting another kiss to your temple, “But there’s always going to be another job, another bounty, and our wounds will heal with time. All we can do is move forward and press on...but, mesh’la?” The hand he’s been gentling running down your back back stills for a moment, pressing flat against the middle of it, “As long as you’re here, by my side, in my arms…,” He gives you a firm squeeze, “ just know that it’s all going to be okay.” 

And he was right. You know the risk that comes with the job. You still feel bad about what happened, but he was okay. You were okay. All you can do is move forward and press on. And with the way he was holding you against him so tight, his face pressed into your hair, yours in the side of his neck, the way his heart beat felt against your own, you had no doubt in your mind that everything was going to be just fine.

***

But instead you were alone. Sitting on the cold ground in the hull of a ship that wasn’t yours. The metal beneath you, a glaring reminder of the harsh reality you were living in instead of the fantasy you could lose yourself in forever. You hold your helmet--his helmet--tight to your chest, and you curl around it, wishing it could bring even a fraction of the same comfort that he always gave you.

You miss him.

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

Landing on Utrost couldn’t have come any quicker. The second you felt the ship make its clumsy landing in it’s assigned hangar, you practically jumped to your feet, rushing to find your go-bag. The thought of finally being off this ship--finally getting some fresh air--and maker, some real food. Ration packs were fine most of the time, but after only being able to eat them for weeks? You’re ready for something else. 

You hear the Mandalorian descend the ladder as you click your helmet on and hit a button on the hull wall to lower the ramp. You look over in his direction, and see he has the baby tucked away in a bag on the side of his hip. You can’t help but smile to yourself with the way The child’s big eyes barely peek over the top and his big green ears stick out the sides. You almost want to ask if you can take him with you, treat him to some local street food you’re positive he would love. But with the way things have been between you and the powerful man carrying him, you don’t bother. 

When the ramp finally lowers, you immediately make your stride down, trying to contain your excitement of finally being off the ship. When your feet hit the solid ground of the hangar beneath you, you can’t help but raise your arms above you and let out a much needed stretch. You already feel lightyears better than you did before, and you haven’t even stepped into the sun yet. 

The hangar bay you got assigned to was way bigger than it needed to be considering your ship's size. It could have easily fit three more of them and still have some room to easily move about the round space. It was half enclosed, a large rounded metal covering half of the hanger and engulfing it in shade, the other half open to allow for landing. There were parts scattered about in what you assume to be an unorganized fashion. Platform lifts and transport carts are abandoned throughout the area. It looked like this place hadn’t been used in ages. 

You barely notice when an exhausted looking mechanic slowly makes his way across the hangar as the Mandalorian descends the ramp behind you. He’s punching something into the holopad in his arm as he strolls over, his goggles pushed up onto his head, pulling his hair up into a wiry mess behind them. He feels so out of place. With a bay this size you would be expecting more mechanics, droids, anything. Instead it’s just one. Dragging his feet as he makes his way over to you. It’s only when he gets closer you realize how young he looks. 

He looks up from his holopad with a heavy sigh when he sees the state of the ship. You turn to take a look yourself and---stars, that’s bad. This is the first time you’ve been able to actually see the damage. Large scorch marks plastered heavily across the entire length of it, along with huge tears in the metal. It was a disaster.

“Looks like you two got yourselves in quite the mess.” He drawls out as he steps closer to further inspect the ship. “Whatever you hit, it did some pretty serious damage. Surprised you made it here in one piece.” He continues absently as he punches some notes into his holopad. 

“How soon can you have it repaired by?” The Mandalorian next to you questions, and the mechanic scoffs in response. 

“If my droids were still up and running? I could have had her ready for you by tomorrow night. But since it's just me now, It’ll take me a few days.” 

“How long is a few days?” The mechanic turns to stare him down, glaring into his visor. “A few days. And it will be a few days more if you decide to be a pain in the ass.” He quickly turns back to continue assessing the damage. You notice something, just barely--out of the corner of your eye, you have to turn slightly to get a better look, but you notice the Mandalorian’s fists tighten at his sides. His shoulders may even tense slightly, but you aren’t sure. It might just be your mind playing tricks on you. 

Up until this point you truly thought he was unbothered by this whole thing. Like his ship getting damaged and the bounty getting away was no big deal, just another day. He’s always so stoic, so composed--like all of the time. And he almost never talks, so it’s not like he could give it away verbally. It’s only now you’re realizing, from just the slightest flex of his fists, that the illusion of his helmet--having never seen his face--almost had you believe he was completely imperturbable. Like...you knew he was irritated the day you left Coruscant, but on the days that followed it never actually occurred to you that he might be just as angry and pissed off as you were about the whole thing.

 He was.

 He was just much better at hiding it than you were.

“Alright. Looks like repairs are gonna cost ya forty thousand.” He doesn’t even flinch when he tells you the amount, like it's no big deal, tapping loudly once on the holopad to finalize the estimate. 

You choke. 

The Mandalorian whips around so fast you’re worried he’s going to give the baby whiplash. 

“Forty thousand?!” You shout it louder than you mean to. You’re just in utter disbelief at the amount. He must have made a mistake--there's no way. That was way too much. That can’t be right at all. 

“That's what I said.” The mechanic taps the side of his holopad impatiently.

“Repairs are cheaper on Coruscant.” The Mandalorian snaps out.

“Then feel free to fly back to Coruscant.” 

“But I don’t understand, what exactly is costing that much?” You question anxiously. You clearly needed these repairs if you were to ever end up off this planet and back on the hunt, but where in the galaxy were you supposed to find that many credits?

“Lets see…” he starts scrolling through his holopad, listing off the repairs he’s taken note of for your estimate, “You’ve got a fuel leak, hyperdrive’s got some serious damage, gonna have to be replaced all together, right thruster damage, I assume your not running any higher than 40% efficiency, Got some busted power lines, and you’re gonna need a ton of rewiring, not to mention your reflector shields are damaged. Then we’ve got all the body damage to worry about.” He shakes his head to himself, “S’gonna be a lot of work and like I said, someone went and damaged all my droids so it’s just me now. Damn thugs…” He murmurs the last bit to himself quietly, but it piques your interest. 

“Thugs?” He just looks at you with pure hesitation in his eyes, like he so desperately wants to tell you everything but there's something holding him back. 

“Forty thousand for the repairs. Pay up or find someone else to repair your ship.” He repeats shortly. He goes to turn away, tucking his holopad into a holder on his side. 

“These thugs the reason your prices are so high?” 

He scoffs, “You really think I would be chasing away what little business I get with prices this high by choice?” He shakes his head with a sigh, “A group of spice runners moved in a couple months ago, been terrorizing the whole town since they got here. At first they were just using it as a way to transfer product, but then they got violent. They run the whole town now. You pay their prices, and do as they say, or you end up dead.” 

You settle back on your heels. Straighten out your shoulders and stand tall, resting your hands on your belt and tilt your helmet in his direction, a clever, perfect little plan forming in your brain. 

“How much would repairs be if--let's say...those spice runners weren’t a problem anymore?” You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly and you notice the Mandalorian turn his helmet in your direction. He clearly knows what you're getting at. At the same time the mechanic bursts into laughter, as if that's the funniest joke he's heard since the solstice. 

“If you could find a way to take care of Rrollesh and his gang? On maker, I'll give you your repairs for free!” He laughs his whole way through it, clearly not taking your proposition seriously.

You on the other hand? Looks like you just landed yourself a job. 

“Where can I find them?” 

The mechanic’s laughter fades and he locks eyes with your visor in a questioning manner, only just now realizing you’re being serious. “I mean, you take a quick walk around town you’re sure to run into them at some point. They don’t like strangers. Most days they play sabacc at the cantina towards the end of town.” 

“Of course they do.” You give the mechanic a firm grip on the shoulder, “You get started on those repairs, I’ll take care of the rest.” You give his shoulder a couple pats before turning towards the silent armored man next to you. 

“I’m going to go check things out. You should take the kid to get some real food. He’s probably more sick of ration packs than I am.” You can’t help but let out a small sigh at the realization that getting yourself some good food might have to wait. Just your luck.

“Going alone?” 

“I think I can handle it. Besides, I’m the one who took the job.” You shrug, already turning to make your leave.

“Let me know if you need backup” 

“Sure thing tin can” you call back to him with a dismissive wave of your hand as you continue your way out of the hangar.

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

Every step to the cantina was torture. By the time you finally got there and settled into a booth you almost completely forgot why you were there. All you could think about was food. 

Street vendors were tempting you at every corner, their sizzling goods reminding you exactly what you were missing. 

Every wiff you would catch through your helmet made your headspin. Sweet freshly baked pastries, smoky grilled meats, not to mention all kinds of exotic fruits--half of which you’ve never seen before, but looked delicious all the same. It all just made your stomach cry out and your need for real--fresh--delicious food only grow exponentially with every step. 

You settle further into your seat, propping a knee up on the edge of the table. Tapping a finger a couple of times on the top of it where your hand rests. You let out a light huff of air. Hopefully the kid was having a good time right now. You can imagine his little cheeks stuffed to the brim with whatever his metal clad guardian would give him. The way his little hands would probably be already reaching for more before he even finished chewing, that greedy little bug. 

You’re beyond lost in your thoughts you don’t even notice the sudden shadow looming over you. It’s not until the violent BANG of a vibroblade being stabbed threateningly into the top of your table catches your attention and you realize you’re being crowded around. You look at the blade blankly, and slowly follow it up the strong arm of the stranger holding it. 

You lock your visor to the face of one very sizable Trandoshan. A large and gnarly looking scar splitting across his entire sandy scaled face, clouding one of his eyes in its path.

“Mandalorian…” He hisses out, deep and guttural, as a sly smirk breaks out revealing large sharp teeth, “What brings you to my bar?” 

You lean back in the booth, this must be that Rrollesh the mechanic was talking about. And if he wasn't, well you get the feeling he could definitely take you to him. You look slightly to your left, to take note of the various others crowding around you. Five of them, all boxing you into your booth, leaving you no escape. It's an interesting mix of smugglers to say the least. None look nearly as impressive as the clear leader in front of you, but you don’t doubt they would put up a good fight. 

The scarred Trandoshan pulls his blade out from the table, pulling your attention back to him. 

“I like your armor...Beskar goes for a lot these days.” He growls out lowly, pointing his blade in your direction. 

“Always does.” You reply coolly, “Mandalorian steel is one of the most durable materials, and very rare. Nearly impossible to get your hands on.” 

“Then you know why I want yours.” He inches his blade towards one of your pauldrons, close enough so he can press the tip of it against your metal, and it takes every fiber of your very being not to rip his damn arm off right then and there. His smirk grows wider and there's a dark chuckling from his goons next to you, that you choose to ignore. Keeping your visor locked to his eyes, trying to keep your relaxed composure, despite the obvious tension that's building.

“Mine’s in bad shape.” You shrug finally after a moment of silence, “But if you’re interested in Beskar I have a proposition that might interest you.”

“Do you seem like you’re in a position to be making deals right now?” 

“You seem like a smart guy,” you lie, “And I happen to know someone with a full set of Beskar probably worth twice what mine is.” The offer comes out of your mouth before you even realize what you're doing, but you're hoping he takes the bait.

The Trandoshan hums dark and grovely in his throat before silently taking a seat in the booth opposite to you. “Keep going” He encourages. Bingo.

“I’m here on a job, I’m hunting a Mandalorian. He escaped from me on Coruscant, but had to make an emergency landing here after the damage I did to his ship. He’s dangerous. Heavily armed, and in a full suit of freshly forged Beskar. One of the most skilled fighters I’ve ever gone against.” You move to rest your arms on the back of the booth, trying your best to seem as relaxed as possible while you lie straight out of your ass. You’re not even sure what you’re doing yet, just kind of making shit up as you go. 

“What exactly are you asking of me?” He leans forward in his seat squinting at you, still holding his blade.

“If you and your men help me catch my quarry, you can take his armor.” 

“I thought beskar belonged to the Mandalorians? Wouldn’t that be going against your own kind?” 

You shake your head dismissively, “I’m not a Mandalorian. I don’t care what happens to it so long as I get paid for my work.” 

He gives you a disbelieving look with a tilt of his head.

“Stole it off a dead guy.” you say nonchalantly as you notion to your armor with both hands, without moving your arms from their place on the back of the booth.

He lets out a hearty laugh, “I like you” he says waving his blade back in your direction, “I’ll help you catch your Mandalorian.” he nods with a smile, “what's your plan?”

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

“Mandalorian, you there?”

“Need backup?” His voice crackles through the static of the comm

“Not exactly.” 

“What does that mean?” He asks, suspicious of your ambiguous answer. 

“I found Rrollesh. Well, he found me I guess, we struck a deal.” 

“A deal?” “I told him if he helped me kill you he could have your armor” You confess bluntly.

There's a beat of silence, and you’re almost worried he’s going to hang up on you.

“You what?” He finally asks

“It’s not like it sounds.” You reassure him, but after you’re met with nothing but silence in return you continue, “We made a plan to ambush you tonight--”

“You’re not helping your case.” He cuts you off abruptly. 

“Just listen! We made a plan to ambush you tonight, but what's going to happen instead is we’re going to ambush them. I’m going to turn against them and you’re going to help me take them out.” you sound more confident than you feel explaining your half-baked whim of a plan, but you’re hoping he’ll go along with it. Your only other real option if he decides not to go along with it is to show up guns blazing and hope for the best, which didn’t seem ideal. 

“Don’t you think they’re planning the same thing?” He sounds dubious at best, but the fact he’s not outwardly declining gives you a spark of confidence.

“Oh, I know they are, the difference is they need me to help take you out. They probably plan to kill me after I help kill you. So if we beat them to it, we have nothing to worry about.” You shrug despite him not being able to see it. 

“How many are there?”

“No clue. There were six at the cantina including Rrollesh himself, but he said he’s bringing more.” 

“Where are you planning this ambush?” 

“I told them I would lure you to the middle of town, they're going to hide and try to surround you once you get there. Box you in. The second they make the jump for you, that's when I’ll turn on them.” 

“Should be easy enough.” His words are like honey in your ears, instant relief fills your entire body. 

“My thoughts exactly. Start heading down in three hours, I’ll have to meet back up with Rrollesh and his men and I don’t want to be seen with you until then.” “Copy that.” 

You’re about to turn off the comm and get ready to meet back with Rrollesh, but you hesitate. “Oh, before I forget!” You call out quickly before either of you can disconnect.

“What is it?” 

“Try not to shoot me this time, tin can.” You joke, your smirk almost audible in your voice.

“Try to communicate with me before you jump out from some crates and then maybe we have a deal. No promises though.” You hear his commlink click off the line. You know he was joking back, but something about his wording makes you freeze up. You sit there, alone with the static of your open comm ringing in your ear with the sudden realization. You keep replaying what he just said over and over in your head…

“Try to communicate with me before you jump out from some crates and then maybe we have a deal.” 

“Try to communicate with me…”

“Try to communicate…” 

Somehow, it’s only now that it hits you. This whole time you were blaming everything about what happened on Coruscant on the Mandalorian. This whole time, everything went wrong because of the things he did. Because he was an idiot, because he didn’t know any better. He kept getting in your way because he just couldn’t help but be obnoxious. 

But that wasn’t the case at all. 

You kept getting in each other’s way because neither of you had bothered to communicate. You mistakenly assumed he was the one to speak to the jeweler because you never bothered to ask him. Your bounty escaped through the window because you didn’t tell him what was going on until she already started to escape. You got shot because you didn’t bother to tell him your plan to flank her, and just jumped out in front of his shot. 

What happened on Coruscant was just as much your fault as it was his. And not because you weren’t good enough, or because he was stupid and didn’t know what he was doing, but because the two of you were bad at communicating with each other. You were too busy working against him instead of with him. 

Maker, you were a fool. 

All those insults you slung at him should have also been said to yourself. Now you’re really embarrassed. The realization of this should have come to you way sooner. Were you really so prideful you hadn’t noticed? So cocky in your own abilities, you were blind to your faults? 

No, that's not it at all. In fact, you realize, it’s probably the exact opposite. You struggled immensely every step of the way on that job. You felt so inadequate, so mediocre, so second-rate. In the height of your self consciousness you lashed out at him. You were blinded not by your pride, but by your shame. Your fear that you weren’t good enough, and he would be able to see that, that anyone would be able to see that. 

You feel incredibly guilty now. Down right bad. A sinking in the pit of your belly that almost makes you nauseous. You definitely owe him an apology. Whether or not he wants one, you owe it to him, even if only to clear your own conscience. 

For now though, you’ve got a job to finish. And you’re going to make sure you do a damn good job finishing it. 

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

“Ah! You made it!” Rrollesh calls out to you as you stroll out into the open area of the town where you agreed to meet, “I was starting to suspect you wouldn’t show.” His deep and guttural voice rumbles out in a dark tone as you approach him. 

You glance around him. Only three others are standing about. You tilt your visor at the large scaled man in front of you questioningly, “These are the only men you brought with you? I might as well be taking the Mandalorian on myself.” You scoff

“Oh no, not at all. The others are already stationed and waiting. Don’t you worry.” The threatening tone of his reassurance, followed by the sickly, toothy smile he shoots you, definitely confirms the fact that he is planning on killing you. You pretend not to notice.

“Good. Since these are your fighters, and this is your town, where do you want me?” You hope by giving him the illusion of control he’s less likely to suspect anything coming from you. 

Besides,

You know damn well no matter where he puts you, you’ll end up on top either way. 

“You and Tarsi are going to hole up there and wait for my signal.” He points up to the roof of a building to your right, “I’ll take the other two towards the front so we can close him off.” He points behind you where he intends on hiding out with the other two smugglers. 

You nod in confirmation, and go to make your way to your assigned spot, one of the smugglers trailing close behind you. This Tarsi, you assume, is...unimpressive--to say the least. He’s small, too eager as he jogs next to you to keep up with your pace, and seems far too excited about the prospect of taking down a mandalorian. 

And he won’t stop talking to you. 

You don’t even know about what, you tuned him out almost immediately after he opened his mouth for the first time. You just know he wouldn’t stop making noise. The whole way to your assigned spot, he was blabbing away. The whole time he set up his long range rifle, and adjusted his scope, he was. Still. Talking. 

At one point you notice while you’re settled down and looking out waiting for a signal--or any sign of the Mandalorian, that he’s been continuously scooting himself closer to you until there’s barely a gap between the two of you at all. 

“I just really like that in a woman…,” Were the only words you suddenly catch from him, as you feel his hand on your thigh. 

You shoot a threatening stare right into his eyes through your visor, which were already locked onto you. Only, he doesn’t get the hint. 

“I’m sure you’re just as beautiful under all that armor as you are with it on…” He continues, and his thumb gently runs a small circle on your thigh where his hand rests. 

How long exactly had he been hitting on you before you noticed? And how did he take your complete utter silence as interest? 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything, I’ll take good care of you.” The way his voice drops into a sultry tone, and he starts to slide his hand up higher on your thigh, it's too much. You immediately grab his wrist and forcefully rip it from your leg, nearly crushing it in your grip as you continue to stare daggers at him. 

He winces at the force of it, but somehow, someway, he still doesn’t understand, “You like things rough I see, no problem. I’ll do whatever you want once this is all over. Does the helmet stay on or is there a chance I get to see your beautiful eyes?” 

You practically throw his wrist away from you. The audacity of him, to think you would actually be interested in sleeping with him. You can’t take it anymore, slowly you reach your hands out and gingerly place them on either side of his face. “You want a kiss sweetheart? No problem, I’ll give you a taste of--” You cut him off with a rough twist, and the awfully delightful sound of his neck snapping, causing him to immediately go limp in your arms. You roughly toss his body away from you in disgust. Thank the maker that was finally over. 

You shake your head lightly to yourself to regain your composure, and turn back just in time to see the familiar shine of the Mandalorian as he walks through the seemingly abandoned street. He pauses right in the middle of the road, in the middle of where everyone is hiding out.

There's a moment, a moment of absolute silence, as the armored man stands in the middle of the road unmoving. 

You can practically taste the tension in the air. It’s like time stops. Every moment suspended in mid-air waiting for the drop. 

You start to question whether or not you missed the signal, were they all waiting on you? You didn’t see or hear anything....kriff, what if it happened while you were snapping that guy's neck? 

 Clink. Clink. Clinkclinkclink clink

A metal canister bounces out across the street and rolls to a stop, drawing both the attention of you and the Mandalorian.

The can starts to hiss lightly, before the hiss erupts suddenly into a plume of fog that quickly begins to fill the street. 

That's the signal. 

Just as quickly as fog fills the street, consuming the Mandalorian in it’s haze, smugglers emerge and drop down from their various hiding spots, and with it their shouts and yells as they make a charge for their target.

Blaster fire lights up the fog filled street in smears of color, and you can hear how it ricochets off your accomplice’s beskar. 

You quickly scramble to grab the long range rifle next to you, and switch the setting on your helmet’s hud so you can easily see the heat signatures through the fog. Quickly searching around with your scope you lock on one of the poor souls still emerging from their hiding place. You squeeze the trigger, and fire. 

Your blaster bolt whistles through, lighting up the fog around it as it makes perfect contact with your target, sending them dropping limply to the floor. 

You’re immediately locking onto another target, you fire, direct hit. 

You can hear the clashing below you as the Mandalorian fights on the ground, and you take aim on another target. There's too much going on down there, you don’t feel like you can get a clear shot. Heat signatures are overlapping, and people are moving too quickly. You attempt to take a shot when you think you have an opening, but a blaster bolt gets ricocheted in your direction, causing you to jerk away just as you squeeze the trigger, and you miss. 

You let out a frustrated growl and readjust your hold on the rifle, rolling your shoulder back to loosen up before you take aim. You scan through the fog, through the heat signatures, it’s easy to spot the Mandalorian like this. His beskar makes his heat signature entirely unique. He’s being surrounded by five or six men, all haphazardly lunging at him, trying to overwhelm him with their number alone. 

Quickly you flick on your comm as you aim at one of the men circling behind him.

“Careful on your left.” You warn, just as you pull the trigger, sending your bolt whizzing right over his shoulder and making direct contact with the man behind him, sending him collapsing to the floor. You see the Mandalorian quickly look behind him as the body collapses, then shoots his glace directly to where your shot came from, directly at you. 

He doesn’t have the chance to even think about flicking his comm on before another is making a charge at him. As much as you have a vantage point where you are, you have a need to be there on the floor with him. You’re not a bad shot, but it’s not your strongest skill, and you know you would be much more effective in close combat. 

“I’m coming down, hang tight!” You flick your commlink back off and hop down to the ground beneath you. You keep low, sneaking the best you can through the fog. You’re not sure if anyone has noticed yet, that you’ve turned on them. Best to keep it that way as long as you can. Surely Rrollesh has noticed your absence, but then again, you haven't seen him either. 

You draw your blade, and grip it tight in front of you as you make your way through the fog. You slow your pace and quiet your steps as you begin to come up behind someone, firing their blaster in the Mandalorian’s direction. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve done this, adrenaline rushes through you everytime, your heart pounding as you slowly and carefully sneak up right behind them. It squeezes in your chest when you finally make the lunge for them, clamping a hand over their mouth as you drive your blade deep into them. You let out a deep breath as you rip your blade back out and let their body drop to the floor. 

But there's no time for relief, you hear someone behind you and immediately whip around to see another one of Rrollesh’s men staring you down with their comrades body by your feet. You waste no time gauging their reaction, and quickly rush towards him. He readies up both of his vibroblades and lunges right back at you with pure ferociousness. 

Your blades clash together violently, grinding against each other as sparks fly from the impact. You’re unrelenting in your offense, one powerful jab after another, as you continue to push him back, crowding him with your attacks. He struggles to block each one, not even getting a chance to make an attack on you. The pure force from each hit, forcing him to take several steps back. 

He steps sideways when you make another lunge for him, causing you to swipe nothing but air. You whip around just in time to barely block his oncoming attack. Your blades lock together and you shove him back with as much force as you can muster, sending him stumbling backwards. You waste no time barreling forward, knocking him to the ground, and rushing to pin him down, plunging your blade deep in his chest.

“I should have known…,” You shoot your gaze up at the unmistakable sound of Rrollesh’s deep and guttural voice. He takes a heavy step towards you, his figure transforming from a blurry shadow to a clear image of the hulking Trandoshan before you. “Do you intend to make a fool of me?” He growls out threateningly. 

You rip your blade out from the body beneath you without a word, keeping the gaze of your visor fixed on his. You’re trying to mask how heavy your breathing from the earlier fight, keeping yourself as still as possible as he towers over you. 

“I want both those Mandalorians dead! Kill them both!” He roars through the fog, taking a step back, “I want both their helmets on my wall!” He lets out a dark and throaty laugh, watching you jump to your feet as two of his goons rush for you.

You clash blades with the first one, spinning around to elbow the second right in the face as he tries to grab you from behind. You’re barely able to bring up your vambrance in time to block the first one coming right back at you again full force. His blade runs hot grinding against your beskar, the sparks lighting up your visor in a brilliant display of color. You kick him as hard as you possibly can in the gut, sending him barreling to the ground, only for you to be grabbed roughly from behind, a blade to your throat. 

You struggle to hold the blade back, and try to shake him loose. Roughly jostling left and right to no avail, before finally mustering the strength to haul him over your shoulder. You succeed, but it’s sloppy, the force of it throwing you to the ground next to him. Pure adrenaline pumps through your veins as you swipe at him with a shout of fury from where you are on the floor. He’s frantically crawling backwards away from you, as you continue to furiously swipe at him. 

His partner suddenly lunges on top of you, and makes a jab at you at the same time you quickly roll over in his grasp. His blade plunges into your side, causing you to scream out in pain as you feel the blade shred through your flesh in the exposed portion just beneath where your chest plate ends. You still feel the burning heat of pain radiating from your gushing wound as he rips the blade back out of you.

You struggle in his grasp as he makes another jab for your neck. You’re barely able to roll just enough sideways that he hits the ground next to you. You violently thrash as he slams your pauldron back down into the duracrete beneath you, as you’re straining to reach for your blaster with your non-dominant hand, trying to ignore the searing pain from your fresh wound. 

He lifts up, readying his blade to make the final blow, just as you manage to get a grip on your weapon. 

Hastily you squeeze the trigger just as he comes down full force.

BAM 

He falls limp on top of you, His blade still thrumming wildly as it falls from his grip. You don’t even take a second to breathe as you hear quickening footsteps from above you. 

You swiftly wrestle your arm from underneath the dead body on top of you and tilt your helmet against the floor, just enough to aim at his partner barreling towards you, and fire. 

His body skids to a halt next to you as it falls, and you’re finally able to take a breath. You rest your head back against the ground with a metallic thud as you try to steady your breathing, before hauling the body off of you and straining to get back to your feet with your hand clamped to your injured side, still clutching your blade.

How many more were there? You alone had already taken out eight men, who knows how many the Mandalorian had taken out. This was way more than you were expecting, and you haven’t even gotten to Rrollesh yet. You quickly look down at your hand holding your wound to assess the damage. There's blood, but not too much. Could be worse, you can still fight. 

With your blaster drawn and ready, still in your non-dominant hand, you quickly make your way to the middle of the road where you can hear the clash of the Mandalorian fighting off another enemy.

You make it just in time to see the body drop to the floor, and join the various others scattered around the armored man’s feet. He’s been busy too apparently. 

“Good to see you still standing, shiny.” You quip as you circle around to be back to back with him, scanning the fog for more enemies. 

“Looks like you’re barely able to.” He teases back as the two of you stand ready for any further oncoming attacks. 

“I’ve seen worse.” You shrug, “There can’t be much more of them left.”

You hear Rrollesh’s voice break through the fog, but you don’t see him. 

“I’m sick of playing games.” He bellows out, “This ends now!” You hear the unmistakable clinking of another metal canister bounce onto the road, only this time, as soon as the hissing erupts into another cloud of fog, you’re blinded. 

Your entire vision through the visor is filled with a bright blaring white. You quickly shield your eyes, but find the light isn’t letting up. It takes you a second to feel the hot air as it surrounds you. It wasn’t a flash bomb, no this was definitely a fog--a mist of some kind, but the heat of it was fucking up your visor. 

“What the hell is that?!” You shout quickly struggling to swap the setting on your helmet as you try to recover from the blinding light of it.

“Some kind of thermal screen.” The Mandalorian grunts out, clearly struggling as much as you with the sudden blindness. 

It’s abruptly clear to you now that the two of you were now at a disadvantage. Your thermal scanners now rendered absolutely useless. You were completely blind.

You and the Mandalorian continue your guard, back to back as you slowly circle around just waiting for the attack. 

You hear him before you see him, one of Rrollesh’s goons shouting as he rushes the both of you. Your armored partner clashes with him first, cutting in front of you to block the man’s blade with his vambrace. At the same time, a blaster shot zips through the air and collides with your chest plate, forcing you to take a step back. 

You fire back in the same direction it came blindly, simply hoping for the best. There was no way you could aim properly while blinded like this. You’re barely able to see a foot in front of you. Another slurry of blaster shots get sent your way, knocking against your chest plate and pauldron as the Mandalorian continues to push back against the blade wielder. You take another shot, focusing directly where the last one came from, and praying for a hit. 

There's no way to know for sure until this is all over, but with the grunt you hear, and the clatter of something falling, you're almost positive it hits. While you’re focusing on that, another smuggler jumps out from the fog and onto the back of the Mandalorian, trying to hold him steady so the other can get a clear shot. You hear the struggle behind you and swiftly turn around to help. 

The Mandalorian gives a couple quick elbow jabs to the man holding him in a lock, loosening his grip just enough he can rip him off. At the same time, you ready your blade and make a fierceful jab right into the side of the other man, causing him to double over and clutch his side in pain. Which leaves him wide open for you to deliver the finishing blow. His body hits the ground at the same time you hear the Mandalorian fire off two blaster shots, followed by the thud of another body. The deadly combination of you both made you feel unstoppable. Even with your injury, there was no doubt in your mind the two of you were walking away from this. 

You resume your defensive position, back to back, standing ready for any further attacks.

But no one comes. 

Silence fills the street again, revealing just how heavy your breathing is after all of this fighting and your injury. You feel sweaty under your helmet, your hair sticking to your face, while you focus on the empty fog in front of you. 

A sudden bone chilling, angered roar rips through the fog.

“I’ll kill you!” Rrollesh roars out in pure fury, “I’ll kill you myself! Tear you limb from limb! Make you suffer! Beg for me to end it!” You can almost feel the vibration from his powerful growl as it echoes through the street surrounding you. It feels like it’s coming from all around you all at once, leaving you unable to pin his exact direction. 

He continues to growl out angrily, animalistic huffs of pure, raw rage. You think he's circling the both of you. Like a predator stalking its prey. Waiting for his moment to strike. Or maybe, he was building himself up, letting the rage boil up inside of him, working himself up to the point of no return. 

You notice something out of your peripheral, and you instinctively quickly move to dodge out of the way. Just in time for a hulking, mass of metal to come slicing through the fog and collide with the ground with an ear splitting clang. 

Rrollesh roars out as he lifts the weapon again, swinging back at you full force. You’re just able to move back enough for it to just barely miss your chest plate by a hair's width. Too close for comfort. The weapon was brutal, the biggest vibroaxe you had ever seen. The sheer mass of it alone was enough to spark fear in the hearts of many, combined with its gnarled edges, it felt like a weapon of nightmares. The brute strength alone needed to wield it seemed only appropriate for the towering reptilian before you. 

You keep moving back with every one of his powerful swings, dodging becomes more and more difficult with your wound seering in pain with every movement. The Mandalorian fires his blaster at Rrollesh, but despite his size, and the insanity of the weapon he's holding, Rrollesh spins, bringing the flat of the axe up to block the oncoming bolt. How was he so quick? It seems impossible. 

With his attention now turned toward your partner, the hulking Trandoshan makes a charge towards the Mandalorian, seeming to block his oncoming blaster fire with ease. He makes several wide swings, the Mandalorian barely able to dodge himself despite the lack of injury on his part. With every swing Rrollesh lets out a bone chilling growl while he advances on the Mandalorian. 

You attempt to intervene, rushing the absolute mammoth before you, and driving your blade deep in his vulnerable side, left exposed from his wide swings. He barely reacts, and you panic when you attempt to drive it out, only to find your blade is stuck within his tough flesh.

You quickly abandon your blade, and lurch back creating as much space between the two of you as you can. He slowly turns towards you, his scarred eye burning a hole through you, as he snarls, baring his incredible sharp teeth. You think he’s going to make another swing at you, try to bring you to the ground, but he surprises both you and the Mandalorian when he suddenly swings back around bringing his blade down full force on the chrome beskar. 

There’s a terrifying display of color as sparks nearly blind you when the axe makes contact with the beskar. The pure force from the blow sends the Mandalorian flying backwards with a wrecked grunt. You know the power from it had to have hurt, and bad. Probably knocked all of the air from his lungs, and made his head spin. Perhaps he was even knocked unconscious. 

And when he doesn’t get up from the ground, you know you’re right.

Rrollesh wastes no time advancing on him, his intention to finish the job is clear as he stomps over to the weak body of the armored man on the floor. You quickly move to stop him, firing your blaster as rapidly as you can haphazardly, even if only to serve as a distraction long enough for your partner to recover--and move. Quickly. 

Rrollesh turns back to face you, and lets his nightmare of a weapon rest on the ground, dragging it behind him as he rapidly advances towards you. You’ve seen a lot in your time travelling through the galaxy, you’ve experienced the worst of the worst. Hardly anything phases you anymore.

But this?

Rrollesh, and his imposing figure barrelling towards you with such determination--such speed--pure rage apparent in his eyes--as you hauls that massive, hulking, terror of an axe behind him? 

You feel fear. 

Not adrenaline, not the rush of battle--

But for the first time in a long time, you feel pure, bone chilling terror pouring through your veins. 

You don’t even have time to process the ice you feel creeping down your spine as you attempt to fire more rounds at him. Which of course, he manages to block with ease. Just when he gets within distance of you, he swings at you. You manage to dodge, but not quick enough, his swing clips your hand, sending your blaster skittering across the street, and a searing pain shooting through the entirety of your arm, sending you to your knees, clutching your hand in absolute agony. 

You quickly shoot a glance behind the man towering over you. The Mandalorian was still on the floor, but he’s moving. Groaning as he tries to shakily pick himself up from the floor. 

But you shouldn’t have done that.

Because it draws the attention of Rrollesh, who quickly abandons you when he’s reminded of his task to finish him off. Before you can even shout to warn your partner of the impending attack, Rrollesh is already hauling his massive axe into the air. 

Without thinking--without even realizing it, you jump to your feet and activate your whipcord thrower, sending a line of fibercord wrapping around the powerful weapon in Rrollesh’s grasp. You struggle to keep your hold on it, the brute strength from it’s wielder causing your heels to drag lightly beneath you.

He glances at you over his shoulder with an irritated growl and yanks his axe to the side with such a force, it sends you flying forward, and skidding across the duracrete road beneath you. He swings in the opposite direction, dragging you with it as you try your best to keep your hold. You struggle to hold your vambrace steady long enough that you can hit the button.

But as soon as you do, an electric current is suddenly ripping down the length of your fibercord, lighting up around both you and Rrollesh as the bolts of electricity consume his hulking metal axe. He lets out a deafening roar of pain as he releases the weapon, sending it clattering to the ground. You quickly yank it away from him, pulling it far out of his reach.

In a blind fit of rage, Rrollesh goes to grab at the Mandalorian despite not having a weapon, needing some release for his boiling anger. But instead, he’s met with a burst of red hot flame from the mandalorians built in flame thrower. 

Rrollesh stumbles back from the heat, bringing his arms up to shield his face. Leaving him completely distracted and totally exposed. This is your chance. Despite your throbbing pain, you muster up every ounce of your strength to shakily get to your feet, grab your blaster, and quickly come right up behind him. Readying your blaster to fire, once, twice, three times in the back of his scaled head. 

He collapses to the floor with a powerful thud. 

You still have your blaster up as you stand there, trying to steady your breathing. You let your arm drop limply to your side with a deep exhale. It was finally over. You look over to the Mandalorian still on the ground in front of you, his visor fixed to Rrollesh’s dead body as his chest heaves, breathing just as heavy as you. 

You walk over to him, holstering your blaster and clutching your injured side. You hold your free arm out to him, which he takes, and you help haul him up from the floor. 

“See? I told you it would be easy.” You give his shoulder a playful whack as you let out a light chuckle.

He just locks his visor to yours for a second, before dejectedly shaking his head at your antics. 

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

“Well would you look at that? You actually made it out alive.” Is how the mechanic decides to welcome you back as you and the Mandalorian enter the hangar. 

“How are the repairs coming?” You ask as you approach him.

“They’re done already. Got it done a bit quicker than I thought.” He nods, before looking you up and down, clearly noticing the way you're gripping your side, “You take care of Rrollesh?”

You fish out the credits you pocketed from Rrollesh’s body earlier, and toss them at the mechanic. He catches the hefty bag in pure disbelief. 

“Think those belong to you.” You nod your helmet towards him. He pauses, staring at you for a moment, before quickly opening up the bag and nearly gasping at the amount of credits inside.

“Thank you.” He says finally, hooking the bag onto his belt. “I owe you--this whole town owes you. You’ve done us a huge favor.” You can feel the sincerity in his voice.

“That enough to cover our repairs?” You tease, tilting your helmet to the side. 

“And then some.” He laughs nodding, “You’re lucky I didn’t charge you extra for having to watch that little womp rat.” He notions in the direction of the ship with a tilt of his head. 

You let out a laugh despite the pain from your injury, “Thank you, I know first hand what a pain he can be.” 

“He was good actually. Let him run around the hangar for a bit and he’s been sleeping peacefully ever since.” The mechanic crosses his arms in front of his chest, “Next time you find yourself in this sector, stop by. I’ll give you a tune up on me.” 

The Mandalorian speaks up this time as he passes you to board the ship, “I’ll hold you to that.” And then he’s already up the ramp and you and the mechanic watch as he disappears into the hull. 

“Until next time.” You give the mechanic a final nod before you head up the ramp yourself, “And hey, get yourself some new droids, you deserve it!” You exchange a wave before closing the ramp to the ship. 

It doesn’t take long before you feel the ship rumble to life beneath you as you grab yourself a medkit. You situate yourself on a crate, and begin working at removing your armor as the ship takes off into the familiar confines of space. 

By the time you finish applying a healthy dose of bacta, and are working to wrap a thick bandage around your middle, the Mandalorian has already made the jump into hyperspace, and is descending the ladder of the cockpit to join you in the hull. 

He doesn’t acknowledge you at all as he makes his way to the alcove and opens the compartment to check on the kid. You barely make a glance at him, too busy tending to your own wounds as he scoops the sleeping child up into his arms. 

“Shouldn’t wake him” You warn, not lifting your gaze from your work as you fasten your bandages. He practically ignores you, not saying anything as he gives Grogu a light stroke to his forehead, drawing out the smallest of coos from the sleepy bundle. The Mandalorian is careful as he moves to take a seat on a crate opposite from you, cradling the child in his arms. 

It was amazing to you, the striking contrast of the powerful bounty hunter, and how soft he was for this child. He clearly cared deeply for the little thing, a vulnerability you never would have expected. 

“How are your wounds?” The Mandalorian asks quietly, lifting his gaze from the child to address you. 

“Nothing some bacta can’t fix. Like I said, I’ve seen worse.” You shrug as you readjust your undershirt.

“Good.” Is all he says in return, and fixes his gaze back on the child. 

You watch the two of them, unabashedly. Nearly enjoying the silence after today. But then you remember the realization you had earlier before the fight.

“Thanks for helping me with the job.” You finally speak out, rolling your head back to release some of the tension in your neck, “couldn’t have done it without you.” You admit quietly. 

“And uh…” You start, and he lifts his helmet again, tilting his visor slightly as he waits for you to finish, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” His voice is quiet, clearly trying not to wake the child. 

“For how I acted back on Coruscant.” 

“It’s fine.” He dismisses you, before you even get the chance to elaborate. This clearly wasn’t bothering him as much as it was bothering you. 

“It’s not fine.” You give him a stern look, “We accepted the job together, I should have been working with you not against you. And I definitely shouldn’t have put it all on you when things went south.” He looks back up to you, but doesn’t say anything. What could he even really say? 

“That was a tough job for me...,” You continue after a long silence between the two of you , “And I let my own insecurities get the best of me. So I’m sorry. I-I havent…,” You hesitate, taking a moment to figure out how you want to word this, “...It’s been awhile since I’ve worked with anyone else so try to bear with me while I get back into the swing of things.” 

The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything at first. He stands and gently puts the child back into his hammock in the alcove and shuts the door. You honestly don’t think he’s going to say anything, just leave your sincerity hanging in the air. 

“I’m surprised by your insecurity.” He surprises you when he does speak. Not only because he spoke, but because that's definitely not at all the response you were expecting. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, tilting your head at him confused by his odd response. 

“You said you let your insecurities get the best of you, I'm surprised. What are you insecure about?” He settles back down in his previous spot on the crate opposite to you, his visor settling right on your gaze.

You hesitate, you're not sure you're ready to divulge such sensitive information to a man who, before today, you couldn’t stand to be around. Something in you decides you owe it to him, an explanation for your behavior, it's part of your apology. 

“About being a good hunter.” You finally admit after far too long. And he just tilts his helmet at you, an unspoken urge for you to explain further.

“I only got into the business a few years ago.” You confess, “I’m constantly worried I’m not good enough for the job.” 

“You had a commission price double what mine was for the same quarry, and you worry you’re not good enough?” He sounds genuinely curious, not like he’s judging at all, and honestly you're thankful for it.

“That's just it. I…” You trail off again and scan the floor as you search for your words. How much do you want to divulge here exactly? You take a deep breath before starting again, “My husband, he's the one who taught me everything I know. He’s the reason I got into the guild. I had never even been off the surface of my home planet before him.” You explain, avoiding eye contact with his visor, which is still locked on you intently as you speak, “And he-- now he was a good hunter. He already had a reputation, I was just sort of...in the shadow of it. I get the good commissions because of his reputation, because of his skill.” You sigh, and finally work up the courage to look back at his visor, “I guess I’m just worried I’m just simply riding his success instead of living up to it.” 

You feel so awkward, talking about this. It feels strange, unnatural. Especially with not being able to see the face of the Mandalorian in front of you. You can’t gauge his reactions at all, and it only works to make you more nervous as you spill your feelings out to him.

“With how you fought today I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

It’s such a small thing, his response. Just one sentence, one short simple sentence. But somehow, it struck you. It catches you off guard how much that one, simple sentence actually means to you. How could he have possibly known the perfect thing to say to you, when you didn’t even know it yourself? It was somehow perfectly reassuring without being belittling. There's so much to unpack, not only is he saying he thinks you fought well today, but that you fought well enough you were deserving of your status within the guild, even without your husband's presence. 

And maybe--maybe it’s not actually that deep. Maybe you’re simply putting your own meaning into his words where there isn’t any meaning at all, but stars, regardless if that's the case or not, that sentence means everything to you right now. 

You suddenly realize you’ve been staring at him dumbly in silence this whole time. You quickly try to compose yourself, clearing your throat and averting your gaze. 

“Thank you.” You finally muster out, trying to play it cool. He just nods. 

“Oh, before I forget.” He gets up to grab his go-bag, the one he was carrying the child in earlier, “Here, this is for you.” He rummages in the bag for a moment and pulls out some kind of wrapped paper bundle, handing it to you. 

You take it from him hesitantly and utterly confused. You carefully begin to unwrap the paper, and gasp at the sight you reveal. 

It’s food, real--honest to maker food. 

Some kind of fried pastries, it definitely wasn’t fresh anymore, but stars, did it look delicious regardless. 

“The kid liked those best” He says casually, like he didn’t just give you the most perfect gift you could have ever asked for.

But that's just it, you didn’t ask for this. How did he know how badly you had been craving this all kriffing day? This is the one thing you’ve been wanting more than anything else since you landed on Utrost, and he just handed it to you, wrapped up, as a gift. Because the kid liked it best? 

Maybe he really had no idea, just bought it on a whim and it just happened to be the perfect gift. Just like he just happened to know the perfect thing to say to you about feeling insecure. You feel like you’re about to lose your mind. Who the hell was this guy? 

“Thank you.” Is all you can manage once again. You feel like a fool struggling this much over some street food. 

He simply nods at you before he’s taking his leave to the cockpit, leaving you alone once again in the hull of the ship to indulge in your food in peace. 

The second you take a bite, pure bliss radiates to every inch of your body. You nearly groan at how absolutely fantastic it tastes, and it's no surprise to you that this was the kids favorite. Maker, you can only imagine how much better it would have tasted fresh. Maybe it’s because this was the first bite of something other than a ration pack you’ve had in weeks, but you swear, this was the best thing you had ever tasted in the galaxy. 

Maybe partnering up with this Mandalorian wasn’t such a bad idea after all.  **** Previous - MASTER - Next

[highly-impatient]

Missing Your Touch Ch. 1 (A Glimbow Fic)

Written By: highly-impatient or highly-impatient013

Summary: When you spend all your days together, it feels like years when you’re apart. Glimmer has been recently abducted to space stuck on Horde Prime’s ship as the Rebellion fights off the Horde’s soldiers on Etheria. This story re-imagines season five of She-Ra: Princess of Power as Glimmer and Bow confront their feelings of missing each other’s presence and touch. Expect angst, warmth, hurt, and a beautiful love story! 

Available to read on FF.net

Will add it to AO3 as soon as I can

“You know looking back, it was quite obvious that I was jealous,” Glimmer laughed to herself. She had been locked away for who knows how many hours in an empty room. There was nothing but white walls, a large bed, and silence. No one could hear her, maybe Horde Prime, but it’s not like he would care. “When Perfuma asked you to the ball, I was mad you agreed because it was natural to always have you by my side. I felt like I was being left behind, and now, look at me. I’m all alone.” Tears rolled down Glimmer’s eyes. She and Bow always trusted each other. They were best friends, but after becoming queen, losing many in the Rebellion, and her...mother, things were not the same. Her insecurities crushed her, and she kept asking herself if she would ever be good enough. Would she ever be like her mother? And with Adora, Glimmer felt like their relationship had become fragile like eggshells. Glimmer knew others saw Adora as more of a leader. After all, she was She-ra. Glimmer could not help that every time she saw Adora that she was reminded of losing her mother after disobeying her orders. Like a knife plunging through the palm of her hands, Glimmer was left with her thoughts and emptiness, “Bow,” Glimmer whispered. “I miss you.” 

“Glimmer!” Bow shouted. It was another nightmare, but could it be a nightmare if the event was real? Only a few hundred feet away, the moment of Glimmer being pulled into space by Horde Prime continued to replay in his dreams every night. He was so close but not close enough. Now, he had no idea what happened to her. What were they doing to her? Or worse, was she even alive? The thought sent an unnerving chill down his spine. The last time he saw Glimmer before she was abducted into space is when the three of them got into a fight. Bow could feel the lingering touch of Glimmer brushing her thumb against his calloused clamped hands. She had begged him to trust her. As much as Bow did trust Glimmer, she had been wrong. Trust comes from being honest and telling the truth, even if it is not something the other wants to hear. But why did she not trust him? It probably did not help that he and Adora had ignored her orders and went to Beast Island without her. Maybe if they had stuck together, they would not be in this mess. The two had spent everyday together for years, and Glimmer’s short absence felt like weeks. Glimmer had become more erratic since becoming queen, and Bow could tell that she was frustrated with how plans were falling apart. It was hard to watch knowing how optimistic she had been. Fighting a constant war was taxing on all of them, so when Bow grabbed onto Glimmer’s hand to comfort her, he did his best to empathize her pain and loneliness. When she pulled away, he could only think about how their intimate friendship was unraveling every passing second. Did she not trust him anymore? Were they not friends that could talk or let the other one know how they felt? Bow scratched the back of his head as he slid from under his covers. How did Bow feel? He already knew how he felt. The person he cared for most was gone, and he missed her dearly. 

“Bow, are you up?” Adora whispered. “I couldn’t sleep either.” 

Bow replied, “Yea.” Bow got up, in which he came face-to-face with Adora when he exited the tent. After Horde Prime had located Etheria, Bright Moon had been overtaken. They had lost many in the Rebellion, while whoever was left remained in the tents. They were constantly on the move. Adora and Bow sat themselves across each other on logs separated by a burning fire. Streaks of red, orange, and amber shifted in front of them. The sounds of crickets and a gusting wind filled up the air void of their voices. 

Adora spoke, “It’s all my fault, Bow.” 

“No, it’s mine,” Bow said. 

Adora shook her head, “If I hadn’t insisted that we go to Beast Island, then Glimmer would still be here. If She-ra was still--”

“No, it was the right thing to do. We brought back Entrapta, and we found King Micah. We stopped the Heart of Etheria.” Bow swallowed what felt like a lump in his throat before continuing, “I wasn’t fast enough. I was so close, and I let her disappear right before my eyes.” It was clear that Bow was trying to hold back his tears until they had begun to drip like a faulty faucet. Adora ran up to Bow wrapping her arms around his shoulders as the two clung onto each other. Their hearts ached losing their close friend. 

“We will get her back,” Adora muffled out of her throat strained from emotion. 

Morning came and the Rebellion was back to its regular duties of recovering towns from the Horde. Strategic meetings about what to do next along with the knowledge of safe zones were extensively discussed. 

“Entrapta!” Bow called. “Do you think we will be able to fix Mara’s ship for outer space?”

“Space travel!” Entrapta smiled. “I just have to run some tests. With some adjustments and my tools, Darla will be ready to go. Emily, we got work to do!” Entrapta was overjoyed at the thought of seeing what was beyond their planet. 

Bow looked up to the sky as the clouds drifted slowly. The stars were dim and not yet in sight, but there was a world outside of Etheria, “ We may not know where you are or how to find you, but I’m bringing you home, Glimmer.” 

Puzzled by Bow staring up at the sky while holding his electronic communication device, Micah finally decided to approach Bow with a question that he had on his mind for some time now. Micah asked, “Bow, can I ask you a question?” 

“Yes, King Micah, sir,” Bow stood upright. 

Micah glanced over at the boy before proceeding with his question, “Are you dating my daughter?” 

Bow was flustered by the unexpected question and his cheeks blushed briefly. It was not the first time he had been asked this question, but Micah had been rescued from Beast Island a week ago. “N-no, sir. Glimmer is just my best friend.”

Micah sighed in relief, “Okay. I like you boy, but my Glimmer is too young to be dating.” Micah patted Bow on the shoulder. Micah had no clue how old Glimmer was. It never bothered Bow that people had mistook them for a couple. When you spend that much time with someone, it’s understandable that anyone outside of the relationship may see differently. It had been weirder that Micah had also made that assumption since he had never seen Bow and Glimmer interact with one another. There was a tightness in Bow’s chest. 

“Yes, sir” Bow responded. Micah returned as they were prepping to split into groups for the next mission. The tightness in Bow’s chest had not lightened up. Micah’s question repeated again in Bow’s mind. Are you dating my daughter? For just an instant, an image of Glimmer smiling had crossed his mind. This time, Bow’s chest began to thump and Bow looked down confused by the offset feeling, “That’s weird.”

A/N: I originally wanted to post this first on Fanfiction, but I have to wait 12 hours before I post after creating a new account. I wanted to start a new account since my other one is when I was 12. AO3 says I have to wait for an invite link, but the other chapters will be posted on there. Hopefully, you enjoy the story so far because I really love Glimbow as well as all of the characters. I’ve re-watched this show like 5 times already T_T

[forever-rogue]

Step Into the Daylight - Part 7

Summary: After being reunited with your Mandalorian and little green friend, you find that it’s time for the next part of your journey. You’re just not so sure if you’re ready, but as Din reminded you the strongest stars have hearts of kyber.

A/N: Thank you guys for all your love and support, I love all of you!! I hope you enjoy this part, it’s a lot of sweetness and fluff, but you know, it’s Din, so yeah. Enjoy some fluff! Taglists are open, and as always feedback is welcome! xx

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin x Reader)

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: none

Main Masterlist

Mandalorian Masterlist

SERIES MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Ilum?" you sounded the name out slowly, testing it out on your tongue. You'd never heard of such a place before, despite how well versed you were in different parts of the galaxy, "I've never even heard of it before."

"Are you suggesting it's not real simply because you've not heard of it?" Jeele asked as she looked at you from across the fire you had lit. You immediately shook your head and leaned back in your makeshift seat on the old, fallen log, inadvertently leaning further into Din. You quickly looked at him and gave him an apologetic look. A quick throat clear recaptured your attention and you turned back to your master who looked between between you and your Mandalorian.

"No, Master," you reassured her quietly, "I'm just curious. Traveling to a place I've never heard is a bit intimidating."

"You've survived this place," she pointed out and you shrugged lightly, looking over at the Child playing with PC. The Child was cooing happily, and PC was beeping just as fervently as they chased each other around. The Child has been so happy to see you, as you had been him, holding onto you tightly for a long time before quickly becoming enamored with his new droid friend.

"I've survived worse," you sighed lightly, "as most people have."

"Enough," she insisted firmly, "you cannot downplay all of your accomplishments constantly. You have survived a great deal, but there is still so much ahead of you. Trust only in the force. And yourself."

You were suddenly hyper aware of how close Din was to you, how his leg brushed against yours, warm and comforting. You trusted him with your life; as he did you with you. Nothing would change that. A small smile tugged on your feature at the sheer thought, "yes, Master."

"Ilum has been a special place, a sacred place to the Jedi for ages. It is our planet, our place. No one else knows about it," of course. More illusive secrets kept between the mysterious brotherhood, "it is a right of passage to go there for every Jedi. It is one of the homes of the Kyber crystal."

A sharp inhale of breath next to you, cause you to turned your head to Din. He turned to you and shook his head lightly, giving your leg a light squeeze, "you know of them, Mandalorian?"

"I have heard of them," he said quietly giving her a soft nod, "just stories I heard in my youth. I never thought much of this to be true."

"I'm sure you're heard many things you thought to only be legends in your life that have come to be true," she insisted and he let out a small sound. You looked at him and gave him a small smile. You liked to think that he had one on his face too.

"What am I going to do with a Kyber crystal?" you asked and Jeele looked to Din, raising her eyebrow at him as she sought to know if he could explain.

"At the heart of every weapon wielded by the Jedi is a Kyber crystal," he explained as realization hit you. Something had to power the beautiful and elegant weapon after all, "there was an old expression I've heard...the strongest stars have hearts of Kyber."

"You're very attuned, Mandalorian," Jeele smiled at him, as you did your best not to completely beam at him. You wanted to maintain somewhat of a layer of subtly, even if one wasn't required at that point. Another six months had gone by, and while you had missed him terribly, now that he was back, it was like no time had passed at all, "and you, young one, must surely understand what this means."

You gave her an innocent look as you slowly shook your head. You thought you knew what she meant, but you didn't want to just shout out an answer and have it be wrong. Din seemed to lean closer almost as if he was trying to radiate the answer to you. Despite the cool beskar, you could feel his heat flowing towards you. It was comforting; warm. It always felt like you were home when he was close by, even if he wasn’t physically touching you.

“I...” you channeled off, gnawing on your lower lip, “I don’t know.”

“It’s time for you to find your own crystal,” she explained as your face lit up with a mixture of fear and excitement. You had thought living on this deserted planet was an adventure? Hunting down an illusive crystal was a whole different story, “and then you will construct your own saber. It is a time honored tradition; a rite of passage for every Jedi. I crafted my own many years ago, when I was much younger. Now, it’s your turn.”

While the prospect of such sent a thrill running throughout your whole body, a pang of loss settled into your bones. Barely reunited with your Mandalorian and your small, sweet green friend, and it was apparent you would have to leave them. Once again. You weren’t sure if your heart could handle it; the continuing back and forth of having them in your day to day life and then being separated for long, bleak stretches of time was wearing heavy on your heart. You knew this was important, that this was worth it....but it didn’t make the decision any easier.

“They will join you on this leg of your journey,” Jeele’s voice was barely above a whisper as she looked over at the foreign child playing with the droid, seemingly have no cares in the world. You wished you could give him this simple life, such saccharine pureness everyday; but even you knew that it was not the life any one of you were destined for. But, you had vowed it upon yourself, you’d give him a tranquil life, some sort of stability. Him and Din. You looked back at Jeele, giving the aging woman a small smile, “but they cannot join you in your pursuit.”

“I...don’t understand,” tilting your heard to side, you were, once again, confused by her words, “they can come with me...but they can’t?”

“They can make the journey to Illum with you, but once we arrive, you must go on alone. It is a solitary journey, and everyone must go through it by themselves,” she explained as Din sucked in a long breath. Even though he was well aware of the fact that you could handle yourself in combat, or anything that came your way, he still loathed the idea that he wouldn’t be able to protect you. There was something about you, no matter how competent and talented, that urged him to protect you. 

Every day of the six months you had been separated his thoughts had drifted to you; wondering if you were safe, if you had a comfortable place to rest, enough to eat, something or someone to keep you company (although he hadn’t expected a droid), and if you were okay. There were times, often in the dead of night, he felt something, a weird tugging in his heart as the vision of you flooded his mind. It was comforting in an odd way, and but it soothed his nervous and reassured him that you were okay. Despite how much he ached and yearned for your company, to have you present at his side, he would wait. And he knew he’d do it over and over and over again, even if he only got to gaze upon your exquisite beauty one more time.

“Without you?”

“Without anyone.”

“And how am I supposed to know what exactly what to do?” you mused as you tried to imagine what the mysterious planet even looked like. Would be a desert terrain much like Tatooine, or Jakku? Perhaps it would be lush and forest like? Maybe it would a spot hidden in a crowded city like Coruscant? 

“Just the same as you knew you exactly what to do here,” it was a simple statement and while it frustrated you to no one to get these half answers, shrouded in mystery, you were beginning to see it was very much the Jedi way, “you listen, you learn, and you do. The answers are right in front of you.”

Currently right in front of you was the Child, climbing onto his new friend, giggling and cooing in delight as PC rolled around slowly. Whatever strange vendetta Din had against droids, you hoped this would help to quell his nerves. 

“So, I’m going to go there and...figure it out,” you asked quietly and she gave you a quick nod, “okay, well, let’s hope I don’t screw this up.”

“You won’t,” two voices insisted at once; a small smile crept onto your face at the realization. You didn’t looked over at Din, but you could feel his gaze intently trained on you. 

“Well, I thank you both for the vote of confidence,” you said quietly, letting out a long sigh, “I suppose only time will tell.”

“We shall leave in the morning,” standing her to full height, which was not much, she stretched before beckoning for PC to follow her. The droid obeyed immediately, turning gently to let the small child slip to the ground, landing on his bottom with a small plop. He cooed as he watched the droid roll away, lifting his small hand in a little wave, “I’ll remain on the ship and get the droid acquainted with it. You will remain in the hut. I shall come for you when it is time.”

You opened your mouth to say something but decided not to bother; when her mind was made it up, it was made up. There were still many things to learn about Jeele Takar, but you knew you would get the privilege of knowing more when the time was right. 

“You trust her on your ship...alone?” you stood and stretched as well, shaking off the stiffness in your bones before feeling a small tugging on your leg. Looking down, your heart instantly melted as the sweetest eyes looked back at you, silently pleading for you to pick him up.

“I have no reason not to,” Din stood to his full height as he started to put out the fire, and you nodded. What a change of pace from the man who had meet well over a year now. He’d always been so guarded and in many aspects he still was; but slowly, piece by tiny piece, his walls were wearing down and he learned that it was okay to trust in others.

“Come here,” you scooped up the small bundle and clutched him in your arms, pressing him as tightly against your chest as you could without completely squeezing the life out of him. He made a few soft sounds, and you felt yourself overrun with emotion. Whatever bond you had with him was strong, inexplicable even, but it was a beautiful thing. He looked back at you, reaching his little arms up and resting them on your cheeks, letting out a string of small sounds, “I missed you too, buddy. And guess what, I’m not leaving again. Not matter what.”

It was a bit of a hollow promise, considering you didn’t know what could possibly be coming up. But you vowed that if you had any control over it, you wouldn’t leave them again anytime soon. 

An idea struck you so quickly, causing you to hand the small child to Din, surprising the two of them.

“What’re you doing?”

You shook your head but reached around your neck, quickly untying the necklace that had lived, nestled just above the swell of your breasts for months now. Din watched in silence, trying to figure out what you were doing, but he quickly put two and two together. Reaching over, you tied the sacred necklace around the child’s much smaller neck, adjusting the cord before securing it. He burbled happily he instinctively grabbed it with one and stuck it into it his mouth, sucking on the cool metal.

“Now we have to stay together, my little aliit” you gave his ears an affectionate scratch, and you swore that a small sound emanated from deep within the Mandalorian’s throat. Turning to move into the small hut, you motioned for him to follow inside, “it’s not much, but it’s served me well.”

You held the door open for him and he stepped inside, dwarfing the small space with his height and the bulk of the beskar. It was a sight you hadn’t expected to see, and it made you giggle slightly; it somehow made the place you had called home for so long truly feel like home. 

“What?” he asked with an upward lilt to his voice as he set the child down, watching him waddle around and try to explore. You leaned against the door frame and shook your head, unable to keep the grin of your face, “you’re thinking much too loudly, mesh’la.”

Mesh’la you noted, that was a new one. 

“It’s just...I never thought I’d see you here,” you gestured around the modest little hut, “I wasn’t sure when I’d see you again. I wish I had more to offer, but unfortunately this is it.”

“It’s wonderful,” he said quietly as he took off his gloves and trailed them over everything he could touch as he studied everything closely. He had wondered what your space looked like, he wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but this was very much like you. Warm, inviting, and it felt like home, a sense of calm washing over him.

“I...I’m glad you’re here, Din,” you said softly as you picked up your small friend and set on a chair near the table, quickly busying yourself with finding him something to eat, “I’ve missed you.”

Your last words were a rushed whisper, barely audible to yourself, but to Din, they were loud and clear, not just due to the his modulated helmet. A warmth spread throughout him as he watched you work; it felt like no time had passed at all. Quietly, ever so gently so only you could hear, he repeated the sentiment, “I’ve missed you terribly.”

A flush spread across your face, and you were thankful that he wasn’t facing you. You knew you wouldn’t be able to hide your true emotions from him. He’d had years of practice when it came to reading people, and you were no exception; he was even more attuned to you than anyone else. Instead, you focused on chopping some bits of vegetables and scooping them into a bowl. 

He watched you worked with such precision, and a sense of comfort settled into his bones; it was almost like a domestic dream. Maybe one day it wouldn’t be a temporary reality, but an everyday affair. He vowed to do everything in his power to make it so - maybe not next year, or even five years from now, but one day. One day was enough to make his heart content.  

“Hungry?”

“Starving,” feeling like you might combust completely, you decided to focus on cutting the vegetables into small, even sized pieces to toss into some soup. If you didn’t, you were sure that the buzzing deep within you would take over and you’d lose control of all your senses and act only with emotion. You weren’t sure if you were ready to cross that bridge just yet, although you were sure you were inching slowly closer everyday.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Here you are, my little love,” pressing a kiss to his forehead and followed by each of his large, soft ears, you tucked the child into his makeshift bed for the night. You could tell he was trying to stay awake, but his yawns and drooping eyes gave him away, and he didn’t end up fighting too hard when wrapped him up in a few soft blankets. He cooed quietly, one hand wrapped around the metallic mythosaur as he slowly drifted to sleep. 

“He’s glad to see you again,” Din had busied himself with cleaning up after the quick meal you had prepared, despite your protests that you could handle it, “he’s been missing you.”

“And just how can you tell? He doesn’t exactly speak Basic, and I’m going to go on a limb and say that he hasn’t grasped Mando’a either,” you nudged him lightly out of the way as he let out a small laugh. It was such a lovely sound, one that spoke directly to your soul. 

“I can tell,” he insisted, “I know.”

“Hmm,” you mused as you washed the few dishes for maybe the last time in your small home. You wondered if you’d be back, if you’d ever get to see it again. It had become a place you loved, but your true home was wherever Din and the Child where. It was then that you realized there was one little problem, eyes glued on the bed in the corner, “umm, there’s only one bed...you can take it though. I’m sure you must be exhausted.”

“Don’t be silly, mesh’la,” he insisted softly, “it’s yours, and therefore yours to sleep in. I can rest on the floor. You’ll need sleep before we leave tomorrow.”

“Din,” you turned to him and put your hands on his shoulders stared straight into the black T of his helmet, “I insist. And technically you’re my guest so you should listen to me.”

Tugging off his worn leather gloves slowly, he set them on the counter before putting his warm, tanned hands to the sides of your face. The flush that rose up was instant, and part of you wanted to look away, but your gaze was firmly locked onto his. Instead, you brought your hands to his wrists, giving them a soft squeeze before resting them on top of his larger ones. 

“I won’t do that,” you knew he wasn’t going to make you sleep on the floor; it would be a cold day in all of the hells before that happened, “but...we can share?”

“Share?” you repeated and he slowly nodded, almost as if he was trying to make sure he knew what he was saying. In reality, to most, it wasn’t that big of a deal; but with your Mandalorian, you knew just how much it meant. You dropped your gaze but quietly agreed, “we’ll share.”

You dropped your hands from his, taking a step back and moving to turn off the lamps you had scattered around the small space, shrouding the room in a veil of darkness. Taking his hand, you slowly led him towards the bed, having memorized your way through the space in darkness. After pulling back the soft blankets, you looked at him before gently reaching up and starting to unclasp his armor, slowly pulling it off his body, piece of piece, setting it down in an organized fashion near the foot of the bed. 

He was silent the entire time, as you were, taking a moment to soak everything in as you relished in the intimacy of the act. For a mere outsider, this was normal, this was nothing special. But you knew how much mutual trust and respect the act required. When you were finished, you gazed up at the helmet and gave him a small nod, hoping he could see; but you knew he could through the helmet. A small part of your heart ached to take the helmet off as well, but you’d never dare - no, that would have to come from him of his own volition. 

Instead, you settled for climbing in the bed and snuggled under the covers as he followed suit. You faced the wall, unsure of what to you; did you touch him? Hold him while he fell asleep, or would he hold you? Did he even want that? Or were you to remain apart, facing separate ways and not touching? The questions in your mind were almost too much, and but like Din could read them, he whispered, “c-can you see?”

The question surprised you at first, but you soon followed his line of reasoning. You felt him close to you, his body radiating his natural warmth onto you. If you’d had him next to you all those cold nights, you wouldn’t even have needed a blanket. Holding your hand up in front of your face, you checked to see how much you could actually make out; it was faint, only a silhouette, “a little. Only faint outlines.”

He was silent for a moment as a soft, modulated sigh escaped his lips, but after that he remained silent. You knew he was just contemplating his next move, but it was his to choose, and his only.

A few moments of silence passed before he spoke again, his voice, unsteady and unsure, “I...trust you, mesh’la.”

He didn’t need to expand. You knew what he was referring to. After a few beats of silence, you felt him move slowly, but you were quick to through your hand behind you and grabbed his wrist, quickly stopping him, “Din...I... can wearing a covering or, or, something. Just in case.”

He gently pulled out of your grasp and went on with removing his his helmet. You’d never seen or heard him do it before, but you instantly knew what the small hiss meant. With silent hesitation, he set the helmet on the floor, and it clinked lightly. Your breath hitched as you realized what this meant; you were sharing your bed with Din, just as he was, just him. Not the Mandalorian.

“I trust you,” his voice, pure and unfiltered was so soft, and warm, almost enough to bring tears to your eyes. You had thought it was beautiful with the helmet on, but this? This was on a whole different level, “Y/N?”

“I’m here,” you answered quickly, trying to keep your voice from cracking altogether. He scooted closer to you and with only mere inches between your bodies, your heart was racing, stomach erupting in butterflies.

“C-can I...may I...”

“Yes,” you answered as a small smile crept onto your face as you realized what he was asking. Slowly, almost timidly, he inched closer to you, until he was at your back, his body pressed against yours. You knew he’d had women before, that he’d known them intimately, but this was different. This wasn’t just about getting out carnal desires and having it be done within five minutes; no. This was gentle, sacred, personal, this was...love. 

You’d never admitted it out loud to yourself before, barely even to yourself in your mind, but you just..knew. You’d always known. 

Din slowly brought and arm and wrapped it around your waist, pulling you tightly against his chest. He was warm and...firm, but still managed to be soft at the same time, a combination that you found to be perfect. His legs found yours, and his much longer limbs quickly tangled up with yours. Putting your hand on top of his, you slowly, almost as if testing the waters, laced your fingers together, taking it so far as to bring his hand to your lips and pressing a soft kiss to his palm. He made a soft sound from behind you, mere centimetres from your ear. 

Soon enough, you felt him rest his head against your back, and you were sure that you had never experienced anything better. And you laid like that for some time, breathing in sync as you tried to capture every moment as best as you could. 

“I can hear your heart,” his voice was slightly muffled from how he had it pressed into the soft fabric of your tunic. You wondered if he could hear just how rapidly it was beating. Unable to stop yourself, you reached back and ran a hand gently through his hair, touching it and trying to memorize it all; how soft it was, how it seemed to have a slight curl to it, how a few pieces seemed uneven. But it was all Din, and he seemed to enjoy the touch, something that had become so foreign to him over the years, and a faint mesh’la left his lips.

“Do you hear it?” you asked softly as he clutched you tighter, almost as if he was trying to meld you into his body. Taking his hand, you brought it up higher and held it against your heart, against the strong beat you felt, “do you hear how it beats only so for you?”

Din remained silent as his throat welled up. In reality it was such a small thing, to feel the heart beat of another, but to him it was so much more. He’d felt the life leave many bodies before, he’d felt the life faint in creatures, but he’s never felt this. 

"It beats for no one else like this," you whispered, almost as if speaking too loud would cause you to wake up and realize this was all a sweet dream. If this was somehow a dream, made in your mind due to the strong yearning, you hoped you would never wake up, "do you feel it? How it speaks to only you?"

Din remained silent as a stalking loth-cat as he listened to the steady rhythm of your heart, each beat like a part of a song, a song only meant for him.

Eventually he let out a slow exhale, his warm breath fanning over your cheek before he rested his face in the crook of your neck. You relished in the feel of his naked skin on your, unobstructed by the layers of armor and tradition that normally created a barrier. How soft, how human he felt, how his light stubble scraped deliciously against your skin. There was a sense of urgency to his motions almost as if he was afraid to lose you, when in reality he never would. Not if you had any say it. You closed your eyes and held onto him tightly, trying to convey your every thought and feeling flowing through your body, "I am yours."

"As I am yours," he breathed out in response, almost as if relieve was washing over him. How easily the words came out of his mouth; how truly he meant. 

"Din?" you desperately wished you could roll over and face him, to grab him and claim him as yours with your touch, not just words. He mumbled a soft response, his lips ghosting over the bare skin of your shoulder,  "I...I like to think you have dark eyes, the warmest of ambers, so sweet and honeyed in the sunlight. Dark hair that you've deemed unruly, that you cut but no matter what there's a few pieces that betray you, the ends curl slightly and sometimes it sticks up everywhere. Am...am I right?"

His heart panged with such a sense of warmth that he found himself dumbstruck and unable to speak for a few moments. You knew him, so well, and you'd never even truly laid eyes upon him. But you also him; you’d always seen him. 

"Yes," it was soft and faint, but brought a smile to your face nonetheless. Slowly, still testing the waters he pressed his lips to your shoulder, a soft, gentle kiss, “how...did you know?”

“I just...know,” you sighed contently, wishing that you could never move, that you could remain like this forever. It was the most comforted you had ever felt; the most loved and cared for you had felt since you were just a child, “I know you’re beautiful, Din. I’ve always known that - from the day you saved me when you didn’t have to. Can...I ask you something?”

“Anything, cyar'ika,” you could feel his every movement against your bare skin, his lips soft and surprisingly delicate against your skin.

“When Jeele...decided it was time to come back for me-”

“I asked her every day if it was time,” he confessed quietly, “I came to her every afternoon. I’m sure she must have grown sick of me. But I had to know...I wanted - needed - to come with her. When she was finally ready, she found me and that was that.”

“You waited for me?” it was more a croak than anything else, and the familiar stinging had appeared at the back of your eyes, as you realized what he was saying. Din reached up and wiped away the single tear that had run down your cheek before nestling further into you.

“I waited every single day,” he promised, “and I would do it again. In every lifetime if I had to.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[brokenkingdom-forgottenempire]

Bye, Drew..

Some..angst, I guess? A forced fic by a friend who advised me write a happy, fluffy fic for this ship but also told me to make sad fic for the same ship. The friend is either high, crazy or indecisive ... or all three. 

Summary: Roman and Drew are boyfriends who share house together, but one day Drew gets a new job in a new town. Drew moves out, and soon Roman is forgotten.

More to Roman’s p.o.v.

(16/12/20)

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

He was waiting for this day to arrive. They had planned it days earlier. Roman was going to see Drew later after work. They wanted to go watch a movie together. They rarely had times to see one another ever since Drew got a new job outside of town and had to move out of their house. 

Drew would text him everyday, reminding him to eat and to rest. Roman would do the same thing. They did not have to wait for the other person to text first, they would just randomly send out a text. Ever since Drew moved out, Roman did not offer to rent out a room to any of his friends. He wanted the house all to himself. It was the house Roman and Drew used to share anyway. 

First couple of weeks had been rough for Roman. He would come home to an empty house, prepared dinner for himself and watched TV while waiting for Drew’s replies. They rarely met outside, Drew lived an hour away from him. Roman was often busy with his own work too. They were both busy with their own schedules but they would make sure their partners were well. 

Roman did not notice it at first, how Drew’s replies became shorter, how Drew would take longer time to reply to his text. The Samoan told himself that Drew just got the job, he had to perform well for the company so Drew could be extra busy. Roman, however, never stopped sending him texts. He was not bothered by Drew’s late replies at first. Soon, Drew would hardly send him a text. Roman would wait for days but still nothing from Drew. Is he okay? Is he sick? Roman was always the mother hen in their relationship so he would easily get worried about Drew.

Roman would ask Drew if he could call him? Just to hear his boyfriend’s voice for few minutes, but Drew would give him excuses after excuses to avoid any calls. When Drew did agree to have a video call with Roman that night, Drew looked distracted, tired and cold. It was Roman who had been asking questions and Drew would simply reply with a short ‘yea’, ‘no’, ‘okay’, with not further explanation. Roman thought Drew must be tired so he decided to end the call early. Before Roman could greet his boyfriend good night, the video ended. Roman sighed. Maybe Drew was not in a good mood.

Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months. Roman did not know what had happened but he realized how cold Drew was towards him. Drew no longer send him anything. Drew would not want to answer his calls. Drew would not even reply to his texts anymore. Roman cried again that night when Drew rejected his call. Again. What did Roman do wrong? Why was Drew acting this way? 

It was closer to Christmas and Roman just wanted to see his boyfriend again. Just once. For few seconds. Roman relentlessly tried to ask Drew out for a dinner and a movie, but Drew rejected the dinner and but fortunately agreed with the movie part. Roman was happy with just that. 

That noon Roman had finished all his work early. He had prepared the needed paperwork for his boss too. He did not want to be bothered during his movie date. He asked his boss for permission to get off work an hour early to get ready. He was excited to see Drew again. Before he left the house, Roman sent texts to his boyfriend, reminding Drew about their date.

Roman drove for an hour to reach to the nearest cinema in Drew’s new area. He waited for Drew’s replies but he received nothing. Roman waited. It was windy outside. Freezing cold too. An hour turned to two. Drew was still nowhere to be seen. Roman did not want to call Drew, worried if the other man was driving but he decided to give it a try.

The line rang once, twice, thee times, several times before Drew answered. “Hello?” Drew’s voice brought a smile on Roman’s cold face. 

“Hey, babe. Just wanted to know where you are,” Roman heard another voice, an unfamiliar one. Who was that? “Are you coming, Drew?” The Samoan’s voice was filled with hopes. 

He later heard Drew sighed at the other side of the line, “Listen, Ro, sorry I didn’t get to tell you earlier, but the office is having a dinner right now and I can’t leave. Maybe next time? Besides, I’ve watched the movie yesterday with my colleague. Sorry, babe,” God, that hurt him. Roman could feel his heart shattered. Drew was ditching him? Was that it? He could not believe this. What did he do wrong? He thought Drew still cared about him- ..was he wrong about that too? Roman swallowed a lump in his throat. He could feel tears at the edge of falling. 

“You still there, Ro?” Drew asked when he realized how quiet Roman was. Roman bit his trembling lower lip hard enough to calm his voice. 

“Yea. Yea, sorry to bother your office dinner, Drew. I didn’t know,” 

“How about we meet another time, huh? My treat next time?” Roman’s head felt light. He did not know what to say. He was not sure if Drew still wanted him around anymore. His mind was a mess at this point. He loved Drew so much. He loved the Scotsman. Drew was his everything before. Drew would always care for him. Drew would at least tell him he would not be coming tonight. Drew would not leave him like this. In the middle of a new town, freezing outside of the building for hours.

“It’s alright, babe. You’re......you’ll probably be too busy with your work too. I’m sorry, Drew but I hope you eat well tonight. I have to go now, the movie is starting soon. Bye, Drew,” Roman did not wait for the other man to answer as he ended the call instantly. Tears ran down his face. Roman had to walk to somewhere less crowded as he cried. Of course, some people were looking at him but it was not like they knew who he was. Roman felt nothing but pain in his chest right now. His heart was broken. His trust was gone. The warmth that he hoped to feel tonight was blown away by the cold winter night. Had Drew really fallen out of love? Did he find someone else there? Roman’s lip was bleeding by the time he had calmed down. He did not want to scream in the middle of the street. 

The Samoan decided to not watch the movie. He went to a café to get himself a hot cup of coffee and a slice of cake. He drove back once he had bought everything he needed for himself that night. He saw Drew called several times during his drive but Roman continued to focus on the road. Sure, he still had tears leaking out of his eyes as he handled the wheel, but he tried to ignore them. Drew did not want him around anymore, what was the point of staying? 

When Roman finally reached home, it was already 10:45pm. He brought everything inside and placed them on the dining table. Roman was exhausted. His eyes hurt. He did not feel like crying anymore. He looked around the small living room area. They used to cuddle up in that sofa. They used to be happy. Drew used to be there for him. Used to. Maybe he did find someone else. Someone new. Someone closer to home. Roman sighed heavily. He could not even bring himself to cry anymore. 

Roman switched on to IG as he sat the box of cake on the small coffee table. It had been awhile since he last logged into his IG account, he almost forgot his own password. His thumb scrolling down to see latest uploaded posts, but suddenly his eyes fixated on one particular post. It was Drew’s. A video actually. Drew was laughing and joking around with another man. A friend, maybe, for now. They went to places together, based on Drew’s IG posts. A recent video was of him went ice skating with the same man. Roman closed his eyes. He was tired. His heart was tired. It was still in pain. He could not breathe properly. 

Roman logged off his account and went to text his friend instead. Mox was in town, Seth was in town, his cousins were still on vacation so he decided to text Mox. 

‘Mind if I sleep at your place tonight?’ Roman clicked send. Lesser than two minutes later, his phone dinged. A reply.

‘’Course not, big dog! Been wanting to drag you out of the house anyway. I’ll call Seth too. Sleepover party, baby!’ Mox’s reply made Roman smile again. He laughed a little before he told Mox he was packing his things up. He did not think he could sleep in his own house tonight. Not with this heartache. Roman packed whatever he needed and drove away to Mox’s place. 

Drew sent him some texts that night, asking Roman where he was and if he had made it home safely. He tried to call Roman again the next day but Roman just stared at the little device in his hand as it rang, and later tucked it away. His chest still hurt. It was like someone just set his whole ribcage on fire. Maybe it was the best for both of them. Roman locked the door to his small home. The home he used to share with Drew. He was staying with Mox for now.. Drew did not need to know that.

Bye, Drew.....

[wormstacheangel]

mutual tag game! 💕 for the besties lol thanks Liv @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie

why did you choose your url?

here have Misha saying wormstache and making j2 laugh

any side-blogs?

yup @kazbaby67 for post limit and @made-up-name-spiderman for marvel stuff

how long have you been on Tumblr?

since 2011 or 12 idk i can check pero no quiero maybe it was 13 but I remember getting here like a few weeks before mishapolocypse and i logged off for two days

do you have a queue tag?

yup its #Once Upon a Queue

why did you start your blog in the first place?

it was a multifandom blog at first. It was One Direction(I'm listening to Niall right now!) , Twilight, and Hunger Games at first. Then it became Superwholock. Now it's just supernatural <3

why did you choose your icon/pfp?

cause look it's Misha but also it's Cas as a dorky dad

why did you choose your header?

cause the mountains are his wings!! @floral-cas is THEE best <3

what’s your post with the most notes?

my team dumbass post of eileen and dean being besties and cas and sam are chaotic besties

how many people do you follow?

312 I'm unwilling to unfollow old blogs i used to enjoy

have you ever made a shitpost?

idk maybe

how often do you use Tumblr?

everyday.

did you have a fight/argument with a blog once? who won?

in the beginning, the fandom was women-hating (that's how we lost Bela and Jo i think) and multi-shipping was also bad so i used to get so much hate on liking lisa and megstiel like oof but never really argued with them. kinda learned in my 1d days not to answer those people but now we are all here screaming about the spn ladies every day so i guess i won <3

how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this post’?

haven't seen one of those in such a long time! but hated the ones that say someone will die. like fuck those

do you like tag games?

I do! they are a fun little distraction

do you like ask games?

Yup! those are also fun! especially ones, where people send me, prompts to write!

which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

i kinda don't wanna embarrass myself and tag someone who may not even be mutual but there is a few!

do you have a crush on a mutual?

mmm nope but love all my mutuals! in love with all my content creators though <3

no pressure tags <3

can i just say that if you are mutual you can do this lol you can tag me in it! i just don't wanna over tag people :)

[peek-mag]

On Suffering/Salvation

It’s been difficult to discern how to feel about all that is happening in the world at the moment, and that uncertainty has kept me away from responding to the handful of messages asking for advice on doing just that. But in a moment of clarity a course has been cut through the mental clutter, and so I’d like to offer my paltry sentiments here. 

At first, admittedly, there was a novel thrill of life being completely upended. Of so many questions and such abrupt changes; all of a sudden out of work with millions of others, strongly urged to stay inside. It was reason to commune more regularly with the people I always guilt myself for not communing more regularly with–my parents, siblings, best friends from my hometown. In that sense, there was a comfort in being on a sinking ship, dancing with the band. We were all headed somewhere entirely uncertain together. 

I am, most certainly, an introvert by emotional nature. I am quite comfortable holed up at home, with books, cats, tidying, little creative projects. We live near a wonderful park, and the slow emergence of spring has offered chilly, sunny walks by the river where, when it edges near 60° you’d be hard press to think anything was amiss, save for the surgical masks and gloves donned by stroller pushers, joggers, and dog walkers. 

In that sense, much feels unaltered. Without logging onto Twitter, switching on CNN or talking to a particularly anxious family member, there is little outside the window to suggest that something terribly wrong is afoot. The air feels calm, though we know it’s a deadly sort of calm. Because of this knowing there has been much to take stock of and tally gratitude for on a daily basis. I have my health. My friends and family have their health. We have enough food. We are able to make ends meet. Those simple truths, when all else has been snatched out from under you, are truly enough. Which is what musings on this pandemic seem to unearth for those of us who, while interrupted, are not on the edge of disaster. There is so much to be grateful for, and they are unsurprisingly the most simple things: food, shelter, love, and sunshine. 

How anyone can fix his gaze on anything else perplexes me. Sure, there are frustrations, there is the economic depression to be bothered by, the complete failings of our government, the violence that is the capitalist system, the thousands that are dying daily, silently and alone. But from where you stand, when you take stock, how do things fair? I find it troubling that our minds tend to rest and dwell in such negative spaces, when if the scope is pulled back and our lives are placed in context, we are doing alright. As a society, there are holes, we are hurting, but as individuals, often, we are doing alright. 

We cannot help, it seems, but to focus on what hasn’t clicked into place yet, or that which has become slightly unhinged. It is something rather perpetual in our nature. We, as humans, have this odd and pernicious tendency to–while having the capacity to achieve happiness, health, and safety–thwart our own advances to such aims with every generation, through every millenia. Even when no immediate threat is posed to our daily lives, even when we ourselves are safe and met with the essentials, we are unable to unburden ourselves from a narrative of suffering. 

Humans, it seems, and as philosophers have narrated, are obsessed with our own suffering (I’m surely not the first or only to this point. In fact, I’d say required reading on this subject would be this article from The School of Life). We will, without fail, create conflict with our societies and daily lives even when, with a different narrative bend, the same circumstances could well be quite peaceful. 

I have been considering this for some time, having observed with close proximity individuals intent on their own stories of suffering, and being guilty of the same in some small way I’m sure. There seems a real threat to abandoning something that seemingly speaks so directly to one’s identity. Depression, loss, financial struggle, past abuse, loneliness, neglect, rejection–we experience these things almost universally, with varying degrees of seriousness and for varying lengths of time. And often it seems the habit is to wear one’s suffering as a badge of honor; not as though having survived means now being that much stronger, but as though the suffering itself is an indelible mark of achievement. 

As a society, we have romanticized the notion of suffering; we are so drawn to the idea of suffering that we cannot look away when we see it, and we cannot give it up when we experience it. Having suffered becomes something so essential to the fabric of social validity that we lock our stories of suffering to our identity, and carry them with us throughout the remainder of our lives–quite often when we are in truth far from them. And while the burden of the load strains our backs, we fear nothing more than simply putting it down and walking on. 

There is a very real threat present in the world right now, one that presents itself in the form of an infectious disease, one that presents itself in the form of economic instability, or perhaps near ruin for some, and one that presents itself existentially in how we view the society that supports (or doesn’t) our daily lives and our relative place within it. 

For many, this crisis may have illuminated how insignificant to the larger whole you really are. But that is unlikely, as each of us stands at the center of our own orbit. In fact, for most people there may be the urge to make this totally personal, something that is happening to you, with the other billions of people in the world as mere background cast. It is another failing of the mind to be unable to consider with any real gravity the lives of people it has never met and play no immediate consequence on its reality. 

But if ever there is a moment to do so, to consider the lives of people one has never met, I’d say this is it. You feel lonely? Yes, I’d say we all collectively feel lonely at the moment. People sharing beds likely feel lonely curled next to each other at night, and medical workers in packed hospitals likely feel lonely as they near the end of a twelve hour shift, and the journalist attempting to report the truth certainly feels lonely, and the mother now tasked with homeschooling three kids most definitely feels lonely, and lost, and mad; and the thirty five year old with a new baby at home, hooked up to a ventilator but likely to die with no one near him save for anonymous, hurried ghosts in PPE feels perhaps loneliest of all.  

The paradox of loneliness is that we all often feel it all together and all at once. Because to be truly understood is something that perpetually eludes us. There is real consequence to not knowing oneself, and often loneliness strikes an especially unnerving chord when the only companionship one has is with a stranger. For that reason quiet reflection is perhaps one of the most essential, grueling, and under-appreciated endeavors we can undertake. 

I don’t think one needs to be particularly useful or productive at this moment, a dangerous impulse under normal circumstances and increasingly more so now, but I do think if nothing else one can take stock and find gratitude. 

To focus on your suffering is to get this wrong, in my book. This is not a moment to dwell in the space in one’s mind where woes collect in the dusty corners. This is a moment to truly assess all that one has to be grateful for. There is always a story with a happier seeming ending to yours, there is always an achievement just over the horizon to place one’s hopes in, there is always something missing… if one is set on viewing the world that way. But there are boundless small gratitudes for the taking if one can fix one’s gaze on the glow of the sun that rises and sets without fail each and every day, on the subtle changes as the earth pitches on its axis, on the myriad of ways humans are infinitely complex and frivolous creatures. There is so much within one’s self to explore–there are so many worlds accessible to you through books, movies, music, and your own imagination. There is no shortage of magic hidden inside of the folds of everyday life that it would be a savage mistake to sit healthily inside this global catastrophe and think only of the ways your poor silly self is suffering. 

I think perhaps the patience I typically have for the understandable nuances of the human condition has dwindled as a cacophony of complaints echo throughout the collective consciousness. Can we not edge ourselves ever so slightly to a more elevated field of existence? Can we not see our species collectively under duress and think only of the ways we are inextricably tied to each other’s fates? Of then considering what contribution we have, spiritually, to this greater whole? Of shedding any notion that life is meant solely for our own consumption and amusement? That we are deserving of every joy only so that we may under-appreciate it, cast it aside, and insatiably demand the next? 

The antidote to your suffering is gratitude. Gratitude does not diminish the very real problems in your life; gratitude does not demand that you grin and bear pain that exists in your mind or body; gratitude does not alleviate that which you may be ignoring. Gratitude simply shifts the balance of your perspective to one that is rooted in all that you have, and all that you are, rather than all that you are lacking. 

Rest here, rest in this place of gratitude. Let this be your grounding, your starting and ending place each day, your salvation. 

[windy15]

What's it like, being a homestuck?

Huh. Not the kind of question I expected to get. But as someone deep in Homestuck’s throes, I will do my best to describe the experience.

Being a Homestuck is starting out thinking “What the frick is this junk??” and most likely giving up, only to return and reading the whole thing within a week or two.

Being a Homestuck is not realizing you can open the logs, but once the realization hits the logs become some of the best parts of the comic.

Being a Homestuck is getting surprised at the fully animated bits that leave you in both awe and confusion by the end.

Being a Homestuck is getting to know and grow with characters that are so well written they feel like real people to you.

Being a Homestuck is not skipping the goddamn Intermission. It may seem like weird bullcrap that has no bearing on the actual comic, but it does and you should not skip it! Trust me.

Being a Homestuck is coming across the first main character death and realizing that no character is safe.

Being a Homestuck is being introduced to the trolls and adopting their weird love-quadrant system to your everyday life. Also you will end up getting very attached to at least one troll. This may or may not have upsetting consequences later down the line.

Being a Homestuck is following the Kids and their Patron Trolls floundering around trying to make sense of things while possibly falling in love with eachother.

Being a Homestuck is reading through Murderstuck, watching in horror as your favorite trolls get killed one by one by their homicidal, deranged “friends”.

Being a Homestuck is watching through [S] Cascade for the first time and, if you hadn’t already, selling your soul to Andrew Freaking Hussie for good.

Being a Homestuck is going “Not MORE of these a-holes!” when Act 6 starts and the Alpha kids are introduced, but you end up getting attached to them anyway.

Being a Homestuck is going “NOT MORE OF THESE A-HOLES!!!!!!!!” once Meenahquest starts and the Dancestors are introduced. Whether you choose to get attached to any of them is on you.

Being a Homestuck is witnessing the comic delving from Acts to Act Acts and to Act Act Acts and various Intermissions and wondering what the hell you’re still doing in this crazy train.

Being a Homestuck is going through the three year voyage of both the Meteor Crew and Golden ship Crew and watching the characters crumble in various ways.

Being a Homestuck is covering your eyes but peeking through your fingers at Trickster Mode shenanigans.

Being a Homestuck is waiting for a FULL YEAR for an update, only to be greeted by really bad yaois and [S] Game Over.

Being a Homestuck is watching John jump through the canon of the comic, ultimately bringing Vriska back from the dead and making things better than the first time around. This either delights you or angers you depending on your stance on Vriska. And by this point, you will have a stance.

Being a Homestuck is going through the last Acts with The End looming within your heart, just waiting to be released from this Hell of a comic.

Being a Homestuck is watching [S] Collide and while enjoying the action, feeling like the plot didn’t advance at all.

Being a Homestuck is watching [S] Act 7 and appreciating THE HELL out of that animation.

Being a Homestuck is that one Avatar the Last Airbender GIF once you finish the comic. You know the one.

Being a Homestuck is FINALLY getting the first Act of Hiveswap, falling in love once again.

Being a Homestuck is befriending a horde of new trolls in Friendsim and getting attached to at least one of them, most likely Tagora.

Being a Homestuck is being made aware of The Epilogues, reading them and being even more confused, scared, and maybe even angrier than you were with Homestuck.

Being a Homestuck is remeeting all your favorites in Pesterquest and getting to see new sides to them, making you love them even more.

Being a Homestuck is waiting at the edge of your seat for Homestuck^2 to explain what the hell is going on and how our heroes are supposed to get better from the mess of The Epilogues.

Being a Homestuck is about growth, friendship, loss, coherence, contrivance. It makes you happy, sad, angry, disgusted, scared, but ultimately, you’ll be made to love it all. And if someone makes you feel like you shouldn’t love it? Don’t bother with them, only you should be telling yourself what to love. And I know the fandom is filled with vitriol right now, but this just means you should be able to manage your fandom exposure to levels you’re comfortable with.

Come with us, and together we’ll Ascend.

[vesuvianoak]

Death Cannot Stop True Love (All It Can Do is Delay It for a While) – Julian x Ąžuolas – The Princess Bride AU

Title: Death Cannot Stop True Love (All It Can Do is Delay It for a While) Author: Vesuvian Oak Fandom / Setting: The Arcana — The Princess Bride AU Characters / Pairings: Julian Devorak x Ąžuolas Tobeluk Rating: T Word Count: 1459 Warnings / Notes: Written for Day VIII of @lovelikeyoursfest – Free for All Summary: Heroes. Giants. Villains. Miracle Men. True Love. - Not just your basic, average, everyday, ordinary, run-of-the-mill, ho-hum fairy tale.

I'm unabashed #PrincessFuckinBrideTrash

Seriously though—this week has been an absolute creative boon for me ever since it was announced, and I had a blast writing for all these prompts!

The pressure of the Man in Black's hand around Ąžuolas' arm was firm and guiding—but he felt as though it was burning him. At length—who knew how many minutes or hours they had been on the run at this point?—he released him to take stock of their surroundings. "If you'll release me, whatever you ask for ransom, you'll get it!" Ąžuolas said, voice intense. "I promise you—"

The Man in Black laughed, his head tipping back and lolling to the side, considering Ąžuolas. "And what is that worth, the promise of a prince?" he asked, voice laced with disdain. "Ahh… You're very funny, Highness."

"I was giving you a chance," Ąžuolas replied, bristling at his captor's flip attitude. "It doesn't matter where you take me—Consul Valerius has some of the best hunters in the kingdom at his call. They can track falcons on a cloudy day—and he can find you."

"You think your dearest love will save you?" he asked.

The idea of Valerius as—"I never said he was my dearest love," Ąžuolas protested, the words coming unbidden, and he rushed to cover them. "He will save me—that I know."

The Man in Black leveled a look—inscrutable but somehow disquieting all the same—on the prince. "You admit to me that you, uhh… you don't love your fiancé?"

"He knows I don't love him," Ąžuolas murmured. How many times had he stood just a little farther away from his fiancé than a lovingly engaged couple should? How many kisses had he rebuffed? The number defied measurement.

The Man in Black scoffed as he stepped closer. "Are not capable of love, is what you mean."

The words stole the air from Ąžuolas' lungs, and he drew himself to his full height. "I have loved more deeply than a killer like yourself could ever dream—"

A withering look from the Man in Black killed the protests on his tongue. It did not, however, tame his spirit, and after a moment more—"I should have known who you are—your cruelty reveals everything. You're the Dread Pirate Roberts, admit it!"

His captor bowed slightly, his grin cheeky. "With pride. What can I do for you?"

"You can die—slowly, cut into a thousand pieces," Ąžuolas snapped, his temper simmering just below the surface.

The Man in Black shook his head as if he were a teacher scolding a rowdy pupil. "Oh now that's a little harsh, Highness. Why loose such venom on me?"

"You killed my love," he hissed.

"It's possible—I, ahh… I kill a lot of people," he replied, moving to sit comfortably on a log opposite Ąžuolas. "Who was this love of yours? Another politician, like this one? Ugly, rich, scabby?"

"He was a doctor—" He stopped himself, the words almost a moan of pain at the memory. "Or… he was training to be one—and he was poor. Poor and perfect, with eyes like the sea in a storm." Behind his glasses, his own eyes closed, revisiting the memory of his beloved Julian's eyes to comfort himself. After a moment, he opened them again and continued. "On the high seas your ship attacked, and the Dread Pirate Roberts never takes prisoners."

The Man in Black shrugged passively. "I can't afford to make exceptions," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I mean, once word leaks out that a pirate has gone soft, people begin to disobey you, and then it's nothing but work, work, work all the time."

Hearing him all but confirm the murder and then flip it to be about his own needs and wants made tears well up in Ąžuolas' eyes; his cheeks flushed pink and his hate for him threatened to boil over. "You mock my pain!"

"Life is pain, Highness!" he shot back. "Anyone who says differently is selling something."

It was a lesson he'd learned all too well, and Ąžuolas turned away if only to allow himself the illusion of grieving in peace. Nonetheless, the Man in Black stood and began to walk slow, leisurely circles around him as he spoke. "I remember your beloved, I think. This would be, ahh… five years ago?" A pause. "Does it bother you to hear?"

"Nothing you say will upset me," Ąžuolas murmured, not turning to face him or lifting a hand to wipe away his tears.

"He died well—that should please you." It was as if Ąžuolas hadn't spoken. "No bribe attempts or blubbering—he simply said, 'Please. Please, I need to live.'"

For a moment, Ąžuolas allowed himself a thin smile—even when staring death in the face he had been thinking of his promise to him.

"It was the "please" that caught my memory," the Man in Black went on, either not seeing or not caring about Ąžuolas' private moment. "I asked him what was so important for him. 'True love,' he replied—and then he spoke of a boy of surpassing beauty, intelligence, faithfulness. I can only assume he meant you." He looked down at Ąžuolas. "You should be more thankful to me for destroying him before he found out what you really are."

His anger resurged, and he was on his feet in a moment, his head tipped back to meet his captor's gaze. "And what am I?" he demanded.

"The faithfulness he talked of—your enduring 'faithfulness,'" he said, fingers curling around the words in quotation marks. "Now tell me truly—when you found out he was gone, did you get engaged that same hour, or did you at least honor him by observing the shiva first?"

"You mocked me once, never do it again!" Ąžuolas warned, his volume rising with emotion. "I died that day!"

Before he could protest further, the sound of horses on the ridge above them caught their ears; both looked up to see a knot of riders travelling along the high road—and even from a distance, the pennant of the house Ąžuolas would soon be marrying into flew overhead.

The realization came to them at the same time—Valerius' search for his fiancé had caught up with them.

Ąžuolas recovered first, watching his captor watch the hunting party. His thoughts strayed to Julian's final moments, to his pleas to be released to return to him and how it was all for nothing—"You can die too for all I care—!" His vision tinged red with anger as he surged forward to push him down the steep incline.

He gasped as he lost his footing, then cried out as he tumbled, end over end, down the hill—but it wasn't a wordless cry. "Aaaaaaaaas yooooooooou wiiiiiiiiish…!"

Ąžuolas gasped, memory flooding back to him—and then realization as his anger drained from his entire being. The voice, the pauses and lilts and turns of phrase, the height and build—! "Oh my god, Ilya—" He started to edge down the slope, but the steepness stole his footing and sent him tumbling as well.

Miraculously, his glasses remained on his face as he finally rolled to a stop. For a moment, all he could see as he lay on his back trying to regain his bearings was sky; a soft curse and the sound of someone crawling over grass—and then Julian, wonderful and beautiful and thank the gods alive, was leaning over him, his dark cap gone and his auburn curls framing his face. "Can you move at all?" he murmured, running slender physician's hands, gentle but firm, over Ąžuolas' limbs in search of injuries.

"Move?" Ąžuolas echoed. "You're alive—if you wanted, I could fly!" He wrapped his arms around Julian's neck, drawing him into a tight embrace; when he buried his face in his neck, he smelled of the sea.

As Julian pulled away, Ąžuolas cradled his face in his hands, brushing some of his hair out of the way. The mask that had concealed his eyes was gone, as well, lost in the tumble; its absence drew Ąžuolas' attention to them, as well as to the fact that the white of his right eye was flooded bright red. "Oh, Ilya, your eye—"

"It's nothing, darling," he soothed, leaning his head into Ąžuolas' touch. "A story for another time." His other hand, Julian brought to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the backs of his fingers. "I told you I would always come for you. Why didn't you wait for me?"

"Well… you were dead," Ąžuolas murmured, feeling an embarrassed blush creeping up his cheeks.

Julian squeezed his fingers in reassurance. "Death cannot stop true love," he soothed. "All it can do is delay it for a while."

Ąžuolas squeezed back, feeling, for the first time in five years, truly content. "I'll never doubt again."

"There'll never be a need." Julian bent down to press a soft kiss to his lips, one Ąžuolas eagerly returned.

[bang-to-the-tan]

Vessel Euphoria  Chapter 1

► SciFi!AU

Thriller

Warnings: Major Character Death, Mind Control, Upsetting Themes Throughout, Alien Parasitism

↳ Summary: 6 months ago, the crew of the space vessel “Euphoria”—destined for a scientific study on a distant planet—dropped out of all communication. You and your fellow crewmates are inbound to reestablish communication with home base, but things are not as they seem and the fate of the mission is placed in grave danger.

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The screen in front of you buzzes gently as it boots up. It flickers blue for a moment, casting the light about your small quarters before flitting and finally settling on the menu screen. You shift to make yourself more comfortable in the worn-out dip of your military-issue chair, taking another sip of your protein shake and ignoring the potent flavor. “Mango” your ass. It would be nice if Jimin would stop hogging the strawberry ones, but like he’s said before, beating him to them would mean getting up earlier than he does. And you both know that isn’t happening.

Navigating to the files you’ve been assigned takes a fraction of a second—the filing system is badly organized and outdated, but you’ve already pored over them so many times you could access the videos in your sleep at this point. The monitor buzzes again, flickers again, before the title jitters into existence, white lettering over a black background.

LOG DATE: 13.6.2213

Space Vessel Euphoria Model 2C-4S

Flight Officer Kim Namjoon

The man that appears once the letters blink out is almost too familiar. Black hair growing steadily out of the mandated cut, pushed up and off his forehead for the time being. Deceptively strong biceps shown off by his tank top, but partnered with a kind face and easy-going presence as he leans forwards in his captain’s chair to check the recording light. You only saw him in real life the once, when you saw his crew off on their maiden voyage alongside the rest of central command. There was so much excitement that day you often have trouble remembering exactly what you thought of him and his men. Whatever you saw about the way they carried themselves. The only thing that really stuck with you all this time was how young everyone looked. How unsure, but determined. Namjoon, especially, seemed so confident and you’ve never forgotten his bright smile. It’s strange to think that you aren’t too far from seeing him in the flesh again. Face-to-face, shaking his hand, even. It’s an intimidating thought, but you can’t wait.

“This is Flight Officer Kim Namjoon, of the Vessel Euphoria.” He begins. The first time you saw this log, you completely missed the way his plump lips quirk as he speaks his title. The brief, quickly smothered flash of pride. Sitting in your chair, legs draped over the edge comfortably, you can’t help but smirk along with him. Go ahead, Officer Kim. Own it. You earned that title, fair and square. You take another overly-sweet sip of your shake.

“It is—“ he checks his watch, then looks back to the camera, “Roughly 1500 hours in earth time. We have been safely landed and had our research base fully set up on our target planet for about two months now, and research is going…” He pauses here, stares off into the distance, rubs his hands together as his chair swivels gently.

“It’s going.” He finishes. “Our chief biologist has run into a few hiccups with regards to the local flora and fauna, but nothing to impede progress. Maintenance has gone smoothly, mostly thanks to the station being well-stocked and navigation’s rationing of equipment. There have been a few…disagreements among the crew, but again, nothing to disrupt the mission.”

He goes on for a while like this—describing the minutia of everyday life at his post, the adjustments they’ve made and the problems they’ve encountered. None of it particularly interests you anymore. You’ve already scoured his messages to the bone, could practically recite it along with him. The biology specialist received the camera they had requested and found it to be more than satisfactory. The navigator had successfully rerouted a more efficient path to the secondary communications tower. You fast-forward a little until you see his shoulders drop and the tell-tale sigh that signals your favorite part of the whole video, and hit play.

He hesitates again. The way his eyes flit upwards, meet yours through the screen—you could almost convince yourself it was a video chat instead of a recording. All of his logs are like that, in some form or another. He’s very good at being open, honest, in a way that feels like he’s actually talking to you.

“We miss home.” Namjoon confesses. You nod.

“Understandable, sir,” you mumble. “Home misses you.”

“But this is an incredible opportunity.” His eyebrows raise and a real, excited smile curves his mouth, dimples his cheeks.  “And we look forward to the strides science will take with the aid of our efforts.” He nods with a sense of finality. A sense of gathering himself back into a professional doing his job, instead of a young man millions upon millions of miles from home. “Nothing else to report. I will deliver a full report next week, and maintain our daily checks in the meantime. Flight Officer Kim Namjoon, of the Vessel Euphoria. Signing off.” He reaches up, out of the camera’s sight, and the video drops.

You watch the screen hum and turn blue, taking another long pull from your cup. It’s not like the video’s ever going to change. You know that, logically. And you doubt you’re going to notice anything new the ten-million-and-secondth time you watch it. But that won’t stop you from replaying it. Trying your best to glean any information you can.

Besides which, you’ve always felt...comfortable with Officer Kim’s logs. He talks to the camera like it’s a person, like you’re really there, listening to his deep, soothing voice tell you about how everything is going according to plan and how he looks forwards to the future. The other crew members’ logs are charming—but there’s something about Namjoon that always settles whatever unease is plaguing you.

 Your comm crackles and your own officer’s voice speaks through it, shattering the moment of almost-peace.

“All technicians to the front deck in five minutes for the pre-contact debrief.”

Jimin’s voice is the first one to reply, always eager to check in before anyone else. “Navigation, copy.”

You set your shake down to quickly reach for your communications device and hold the button on the side down. “Communications, copy.”

The line is silent.

“Maintenance?” When Officer Jung Hoseok speaks again, you can almost taste the annoyance in his voice.

Finally, there’s an answering static. “Yep, yes, maintenance copies.” Min Yoongi’s distracted, deep voice crawls out of the speaker, obviously currently possessed by whatever it is that he’s tinkering with now. Probably the storage lockdown units—his personal pet project. He’s been convinced lately that they’re not secure enough for touch down. Of course, it could just be a front to hide the fact that he’s stashing instant coffee down there, but you let it slide. He’s made a point of looking the other way when he catches you with chocolate, anyways, so the two of you have something of a silent agreement.

“Can maintenance copy when I give the order, instead of requiring a separate prompt?”

You chuckle as you sit up, gathering your work jumpsuit off the floor, shuffling into it awkwardly. It’s not like your commander to interrupt free time, or to get so markedly pissed at something as simple as not answering an initial comm call, but everyone’s on edge right now. Even him.  

“Maintenance certainly can roger that, sir.”

“Thank you, Specialist Min.”

“Anytime, Officer Jung.”

The jumpsuit catches halfway up your chest for a moment, but you get it zipped up eventually, just as you’re shaking your head at your crew member’s sass. Any other flight officer might have had him for any one of those comments. Pulled him into a meeting, chewed his ass off for disrespecting his chain of command. But Hoseok didn’t operate like that. He knew when to tighten ship and when to let sleeping dogs lie and thankfully Yoongi always knew where to draw the line between being a dick and being insubordinate. You’re not certain now is the time to be mouthing off, so close to the most important stage of your shared mission, but it’s not like you exactly had a leash on the man, either. Sometimes, you just counted yourself lucky that Jimin wasn’t confrontational. At least, not directly.

 Despite the fact that you weren’t the first to copy in, you’re the first of your crew to actually enter the ‘front deck’. Hoseok is already set up there, standing by his usual seat at the head of the table taking up the majority of the space. He rolls his eyes at you when you walk in and stand in front of your chair to his left.

“I can’t wait until this mission is over.” He mutters.

“Why? I thought you loved reconstituted mashed peas?”

“Oh, God, I adore reconstituted mashed peas. I’ll have to get them on special order when we get home. But more specifically, I would relish the chance to laugh in those two clowns’ faces when they mouth off to their boss back home and turn up late to whatever part-time cushy office job they do between callouts and get fired for it. I mean.” He gestures towards the empty doorway, just as Yoongi meanders through it. “It’s been five months on this little road trip. You think they’d have learnt to answer their comms and maybe walk just a tiny bit faster.”

“It’s not like the station’s going anywhere,” Yoongi quips as he leans against his seat to Hoseok’s right comfortably. He shrugs, pouting, and reaches to scratch at the back of his neck. “And the mission isn’t going to complete itself any faster even if I ran here.”

“None of us are used to callouts taking this long,” you point out, “They’ve always behaved better on short missions.”  

“I’m here, I’m here, sorry,” Jimin pipes up suddenly, bouncing through the doorway and slipping gracefully towards his chair on Yoongi’s side. He shuffles to stand behind it, one hand raised in an apologetic gesture. “Sorry--”

“Is this the ‘deep shit’ room or the ‘boring work stuff’ room right now?” Yoongi asks your commander.

“Little bit of both, thanks to you two. I thought I had made myself clear by saying five minutes.” Hoseok looks down each of you in turn, easily slipping from harried nanny back into Officer Jung with one switch of his tone. All three of you straighten, hands by your sides, facing forwards. “These next phases of our mission are critical to its success, and one mistake could result in us having to abandon even Euphoria’s mission and taking her crew back home with us. I won’t tolerate this again. I want you in here, on time, when I call. Early, even. Does everyone understand?”

“Yes, sir,” rings the agreement from each of you.

“Good.” He nods. Then finally goes to sit. The rest of the crew follows, filing into their seats in unison. “Okay, team. We’re due to hit Orul-82’s atmosphere in a couple of hours. From there, we land by the primary communications hub. I’d like to quickly run back over what each of your tasks is. Yoongi, I want you assessing any damage on the hub itself. Jimin, I want you with Yoongi to determine and fix whatever is downing their contact with control. The remaining two of us will go into the station and look for the crew. See if we can’t get statements. Remember that the only official statement that we have to consider is Officer Kim’s.”

“In case there’s been a fight,” Yoongi rumbles.

“In case Seokjin tries to slip his comms line to our communications expert,” Jimin retorts with a grin and a waggle of his eyebrows. You shake your head at him, rolling your eyes towards the ceiling.

“Like that would happen.”

“I heard he’s very persuasive. And it’s been over a year since he’s even seen a real woman. I’d give you two days of holding out, tops.”

“That’s incredibly unprofessional,” you tease, “but also how dare you, I bet I could make it to three.”

“I’d bet shakes against anything longer than 24 hours.”

The determination in the expression you shoot him is too real. “Strawberry?”  

“The entire crew is inexperienced,” Hoseok cuts in. “Officer Kim is the reporting authority and anything we take down goes through him first, unless we have reason to believe he has a conflict of interest or reason to discredit his statements.”

“So just to be clear, we’re all still ignoring the fact that this whole situation is fishy, then.”

Your gaze flits to Yoongi, who leans back faintly in his chair, rubbing his fingertips together. As you all look to him, he frowns and shrugs, rolling his eyes anywhere but to meet yours.

“We’re still putting our faith in the squeaky-clean official report.” He clarifies.

“Not this again,” Jimin complains quietly.

“That the communications tower just needs servicing. I know I’m not the only one who’s seen the holes in the mission objective.”

“Yoongi.”

“I’m just saying. Those towers aren’t built to fall over. They’re sturdy. A monkey could keep their condition from critical—and Jeon Jungkook is one of the best maintenance operators to come out of the academy. The towers don’t even need maintenance but every six years or so. It’s strange—“

“We all know what you think.” Your officer interrupts. Yoongi falls back into petulant silence. “And we’ve discussed this before, Specialist Min. Several times. This is not some kind of rescue mission. We didn’t come all this way just to settle a disagreement. This crew is working under the assumption that the reason for the Euphoria’s half-year radio silence is a technological issue that could not be solved because of a lack of resources on their base planet. As per the official report.”

He pauses. Looks back down to the desk with an assenting twitch of his head. When he continues, his tone has relaxed.

“It’s….yeah. It’s strange. I’ll give you that one. I know you worked with Namjoon back on Earth. So did I. Even command has to know that it’s not like him to abandon his reports. But we have to assume the best case scenario until we get there. We have to continue based on the information we do have, rather than speculating. It’ll do no one any good to run in, guns blazing.”

“Do we have guns?” Jimin murmurs under his breath, a quizzical tilt to his jaw.

You snort. “You know that we don’t.”  

“Maybe we should have guns.” He raises his eyebrows at you. It’s hard, but you resist the urge to roll your eyes. The Epiphany is a ‘mission assist vessel’, the equivalent of a repair van specifically tailored for scientific studies—by no means a combat-ready ship. The most offensive item you even have on board is a taser. Or possibly Yoongi without his coffee.

“The mission objective is to re-establish contact,” Hoseok repeats firmly, cutting back through with professionalism. “Anything else we need to deal with, we will deal with according to protocol. Are we all in agreement?”

Another chorus of “Yes, sir,” rises among the crew, though Yoongi still doesn’t look convinced.

“Are we all clear on our duties from here on out?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Excellent.”

When Officer Jung stands, everyone stands with him. “We’ll be entering the atmosphere in two hours, at which point I expect every one of you to move forward with your assignments. You’re all dismissed.”

But instead of leaving, he reaches his hand out over the table and everyone follows suit, placing your hands on top of one another. He looks each of you in the eyes individually, his signature grin pulling at the corners of his lips. When his eyes meet yours, you feel a rush of loyalty straight from your head to your toes. Revitalized, like being given a mission from your home sun itself.

“Who are we?”

“Epiphany.” The three of you answer. The hands dip once, firmly.

“Who are we?!” He asks again, bordering on shouting.

“EPIPHANY!” You all shriek. Yoongi tries to hide the answering smile that begins to cross his face, but one look at how Jimin plays at being so incredibly pumped—eyebrows reaching for the ceiling, eyes wide, grinning like a madman--ruins any chance he had of remaining cool. All four of you dissolve into scattered giggles.

 “Let’s go kick Namjoon’s ass for being careless and rub our superior crew in his face.” Hoseok says, craning his neck and stretching briefly as he straightens, still grinning.

“I can’t wait to see Taehyung again,” Jimin begins to chatter congenially, tailing Yoongi out of the door. “I bet he’s king of the jungle by now.”

“Didn’t you watch his logs? There is no jungle on Orul, Jimin.” “Bet he’s made one.”

“Out of what…?”

You hesitate in the doorway on the way out. When you turn to look at your commander, he meets your gaze steadily.

“…It’s been five months off home soil.” you say finally.

“I can count, thank you.”

“Enough time to think about our objective. Objectively.”

“Not this again.” Hoseok looks tired. You know he’d hoped that actually reaching your destination would have meant Yoongi’d stop voicing what everyone’s already come to think. That there’s something going on down there. Something command doesn’t want on the record books. There’s never even been a vessel of your classification sent so far from home base.

“He’s always been right about the communications towers. They don’t break easy.”

“You haven’t met Namjoon,” he chuckles, but it’s distant.

“What do you think?”

“It’s not in my job description to think.”

“Off the record. Nowhere near the record. Just…for opinion’s sake. Crew member to crew member.”

“I worked so hard for all those years to become your superior officer only to get demoted the minute you want my opinion…?” he complains, but the way his eyes flit to the side gives him away. It hasn’t exactly been an easy half year. And everyone’s had doubts.

“They’re good guys.” He replies after a beat. “Really good. I never met the others personally, but Namjoon is the best at what he does. He’s a good leader; good at supporting people and good at resolving conflict. I couldn’t have picked anyone better suited for his mission.”

“But?”

He pauses again. Looks back to you. When he sighs, his shoulders drop and his mouth quirks into a wry smile. “But, we’re all human. That’s something a million miles between you and the rest of the world can’t change. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried. Maybe he’s finally bit off more than he could chew. I don’t know. Let’s just hope he tripped over a stray wire or something.”

You can’t help but smile back, amused by the image. You nod, and turn to take your leave, but look back to meet his gaze. “Thank you for your honesty, Officer Jung.”

“Of course, Specialist. And, just for clarity’s sake--” he begins to add. A comical look of concern drapes itself over his face, breaking the serious atmosphere totally. You grin.

“Ten feet of distance between you and Navigation Specialist Kim Seokjin.”

“Can we bargain for nine?”

“Eleven. At all times.”

“What can we accomplish at eleven feet…” you pretend to muse. “Especially considering he’s primary navigations…?”

Hoseok shakes his head with a scrunched-up expression of disgust, arms up as if to physically defend himself from your implications, eyes screwed shut. “Please, god.”

“Do you think he could ‘navigate’ his way—“

“Specialist I will turn this vessel around.”

You laugh. “I’ll see you at touch down.”

“Yeah. You too.”

 Though you feel better for joking around, you’re only too aware of the tight angle of your commanding officer’s shoulders. The way his eyes seem heavier than usual.

Five months of speculation, answered in two hours and everyone is only too aware of it.

Even with everything else taken into consideration, you’ll admit to being excited.

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[ttylbabezzz]

Broken Part 2 Bones x reader

Warnings!!! Trigger!! Self injury, eating disorder!!

Bones

Bones had lost all hope in love and women after his messy divorce with his ex wife. She bled him dry and then some. He had nothing left not even his daughter. The day that almost all of start fleet was flung into action against some klingons was the day he first noticed her. He noticed the colour of her hair, the way she carried herself, and how undeniably smart y/n was. For a year he found himself engrossed in her, watching from afar as she communicated with people from various planets they were visiting and exploring. Her ability to somehow always smile. But after a while he noticed her smile fade and her eyes lose their shreds of happiness he had come to enjoy so much. It spiralled after that, he noticed the long sleeves she ALWAYS seemed to wear even if the heat was above what it normally was to match the seasons on earth, warmer in summer and colder in winter. But the long sleeves never seemed to leave her gorgeous body. It was lunch, He and jim had grabbed their plates when y/n came up in conversation. Jim has always been small minded, believed that women had to look, dress and act a certain way but the southerner, he was the exact opposite. He enjoyed the woman and how she looked. She was the healthiest out of all of them in the captains control room healthier even than jim was himself. “I worry about her bones, I mean it can’t be healthy for her to be that large. A little weight loss wouldn’t hurt anyone.” The captain spoke without consideration. Bones knuckles clenched around his tray as he clenched his jaw to keep from saying something to his best friend. “I mean really, she would be completely gorgeous if she wasn’t so fat.” Jim said next. Bones hands collided with the table angrily as they sat down “damn it Jim do you ever shut up? You’re forgetting, I’m CMO, I decide who’s healthy and who isn’t and y/n is certainly more healthy than even you. I mean come on have you ever seen her eat anything unhealthy?” He said harshly through his clenched teeth. He watched as her figure retreated with a bottle of water soon after. It was odd for her, she usually never skipped a meal. He knew because they sat together every day. Regardless of her weight she was still one of Jim’s best friends so why he all of a sudden was going after her behind her back was beyond him.

It seemed like after that day, everything had changed. Bones noticed how she slowly started telling everyone she wasn’t hungry or how she already ate. Every week there was a new excuse. A couple of months had passed when Jim had confronted him excitedly telling him how he had seen y/n in the gym every day for the last month. As he described how she had sweat pouring off of her every time jim was there and how exhausted she looked as she kept on while jim left. That was when his curiosity got the better of him. He asked for a few favours and soon he was keeping tabs on how long she was at the gym every day, Saying it was for his logs on everyone he asked for Jim’s hours too. Another couple of months passed and he watched as the beautiful woman he had grown feelings for rarely cracked a smile or talked anymore. He noticed how she barely even talked to him anymore and both of them had expressed how they thought of each other like siblings not 5 months prior.

As time passed bones just couldn’t fit the pieces together on what was happening to the woman everyone loved. Then, she was brought in for a case of dehydration. He took log of her weight, noticing that the 50 pounds she lost putting her at 210 pounds wasn’t possible if she was doing this in a healthy way. Not in such little time anyways. “Y/n l/n, it’s been some time since you were in here last. It looks like you’re suffering from dehydration, we’ll give you some fluids and bring you some food, you’ll be here for a few hours. I’ll have it cleared with Jim.” The CMO spike as he studied her face. At the nation of the word food he noticed a tinge of uncomfortableness in her body. Her muscles tensed up at the word. He had the food brought to her and checked on her every hour as he noticed the food looked like it was being eaten he was content. That was until she left and he heard the nurse muttering about the waste. “What waste?” He asked walking over “y/n, she didn’t eat a single bit of this by the looks at it, just tore it off and threw it out.” She said shaking her head as she changed the garbage. His fists clenched as he sighed returning to his desk.

He watched as her skin paled and her eyes sunk in and how in their form fitting uniforms her ribs stuck out in an unhealthy manner. She looked almost dead with the dark circles she wore everyday and the pale skin. He was getting more worried by the day. Then, the call came in. “Bones, emergency medical help requested in the command room, Jim said its urgent, y/n is unconscious.” The nurse spoke urgently as she ran over with their kits and a gurney. Time seemed to slow as he quite literally dropped everything and ran. When he saw her he felt his breath hitch in his throat and he froze. “Dr. McCoy, her hearts barely beating.” Uhura said with tears running down her face at the state of her friend. He kicked in to overdrive as they ran her back to med bay. “She’s coding!” The nurse yelled “charge the defibrillator to 300! CLEAR!” He yelled as he pressed the cold metal to her chest. He watched as her heart slowly started beating again “give her lots of fluids and give her a bag of blood for transfusion. She’s severely dehydrated and malnourished. Clear my schedule to the other doctors, I’m not leaving her side.” He spoke with authority as everyone bustled around him “god damn it woman. What have you done to yourself.” He says angrily as the nurses gasp he turns around. Her arms were littered with scars and cuts. There wasn’t a section of her pale slim arms that didn’t have either a fresh scar or a fresh cut. “Leonard! How is she?!” Jim said running in with tears in his eyes. As their eyes connected after bones took on the sight he heard a broken cry leave his best friends lips. “How did we not notice this? How did you not notice this damn it you’re the god damn CMO McCoy!” Jim said angrily “not the time for this conversation. Out. NOW!” bones yelled as he turned to wipe a stray tear before anyone could notice. Jim was right. How didn’t he notice. All the signs were there and never once did he put the pieces together and now his beautiful Mariah was practically dead in front of them. He worked tirelessly for hours, changing her fluids, running tests to make sure the blood transfusion was going smoothly and soon she wasn’t as dead looking as she was before. When everything was fine he sat down and let his eyes close for a while with a heavy heart. Jim was leaned up against the wall as he noticed how hard the doctor was taking all of this. Bones was in love with her and everyone except for the two of them could piece that together. He knew he shouldn’t have said what he did as he watched the doctor grip his best friends hand like she was going to slip away at any moment.

How had they let it get to this? It was a question that nobody held the answer to. But more importantly for bones, how had he let the woman he had grown to completely and utterly love get here? But now, they had to fix it. He had to get the love of his life back to how she was, happy, and healthy. No matter what.

Y/n

I woke up with the biggest headache I’d had in, well forever. The beeping of whatever it was only made it worse as I groaned and grabbed my head. Pulling my hand from whatever it was underneath I felt the cool air hit my bare arms and I instantly panicked. My eyes opened fast and I groaned again at the bright light noticing the whispers for the first time “anyone got any sunglasses..” I said in a gravelly voice. “No sunglasses, just questions.” I heard as I opened my eyes once more and looked around. I was in the med bay. The memory hit me like a train and I subconsciously sat up and pulled my knees to my chest as bones crossed his arms from where he sat having just woken up. “I don’t know why.” I say as I hang my head low. “ you know exactly why.” He says sternly as I bite my nails. “Why didn’t you come to us?” Jim asks with tears in his eyes. My eyebrows furrow angrily as I snap my head up to look at him “what the hell do you mean why jimmy? You’re the one who said I was too fat and unhealthy. Why are you all of a sudden so concerned?” I state crossing my arms. His face drops “you heard that...” he says looking down and I nod “yeah jim I did.” “It wasn’t what you think, okay? I was trying to prove something to uhura and saying that was the only way to prove the point.” He says looking at me pleading “what kind of a point calls for you to talk about me like that? You’re like family to me you a*shole.” I say glaring at him “uhura wasn’t as convinced as I was and I needed to get a reaction out of bones by talking about you. It was the only way to prove how he felt about you. She was on the fence about it and as soon as I did that and he reacted the case was closed. I’m sorry.” He says and I shake my head “that’s doesn’t answer my question. What. Point.” I growl out “that bones is just as in love with you as you are with him.” He says before walking out without a word. “What the hell is he talking about.” I sigh as I lay back on the bed. “Well he wasn’t lying. I do love you but that’s not why you’re here. Can you tell me why you’ve done this?” He asks grabbing my hand. I sigh as I look down at my lap “I didn’t feel beautiful anymore. And I wasn’t happy and I figured maybe if I was skinny. Maybe if I was like everyone else, maybe then I wouldn’t be so undesirable. Maybe then someone could love me.”

How could you even think that? You’ve always been the most beautiful woman in the room damn it. You’ve never been undesirable, I knew lots of men on the ship who thought the same.” He says and I shake my head “I wasn’t worried about them. I was worried about you. And after him said what he did and you didn’t say anything I knew it must be true and I knew I had to do something about it.” I say and he shakes his head “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you were less then you were. But trust me I never thought you were anything but beautiful. I’ve loved you since we met at star fleet. I’ve loved you for so long but I figured you could do better so I never said anything. And for the record I didn’t say anything to Jim because I was more focused on not punching him out for saying that.” He says and I look at him. “Let’s get you better okay. I’m going to help you. I’m going to be there for you like I haven’t been, I’m sorry.” He says sitting beside me. I rest my head on his shoulder as I nod. His fingers found my chin and lifted my head up to meet his, and before I could stop myself our lips were pressed together. My hand wound through his hair as he pulled me onto his lap. I wasn’t sure how long it had been, time seemed to still as we got lost in each other. The sound of someone clearing their throat had me pulling away and turning to glare at the captain. “If you leave now I’ll forgive you.” I say a blush hearing my face. “Say no more.” He says before swiftly turning around and exiting. I bit my lip as I turned back to look at bones who was chuckling “I’ve only seen him move that fast when I’m coming at him with a hypo.” He says and I giggle. I knew this was going to be hard. And I knew I would struggle a lot, but I didn’t care. If I had these people behind me to help, then nothing would ever be a problem again.

[seblore]

everyday i wake up and you still havent posted your evermore rant </3

there u go boo 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

GDBDNSKDJHHDDNDS GIRL................ ok so i very cleverly avoided ranking folklore because every song REALLY HIT and the whole album was just SO.. SO.. yeah. i can however rank miss evermore. i dont want to compare the two album i do not get the point in that. both give off really different vibes. now what i will say is with folklore, AS AN ALBUM, it is just a master masterpiece. The songs flowed amazingly with each other and really held you close the entire first listen. at least thats what I felt like <3 with evermore however, the individual songs are OMG!!! THERE IS LITERALLY NO SONG I DONT LIKE FROM ANY OF THE TWO ALBUMS. but as an album on the first listen i did feel a bit disconnected from evermore which didnt happen to me with folklore. why i think that might’ve happened is BECAUSE taylor is just so brilliant m8.... the MASSIVE contrasting emotions between the songs was too much for my little brain to handle.

Ok so now that’s out of the way dhsjsk time for rankings :) i have no idea where im going to put each song im just going to make it up as we go <3 ill ALSO give you my fave lyrics from each if I remember it <333 (oh and also you’ll notice marjorie isnt here. im sorry but i never listened to it after the first listen because it hits a little too close to home and i dont want to unpack all of that now im sorry! it is a beautiful song)

14. Closure: she popped off <3 she really said dont treat me like a situation that needs to be handled 💃🤙💯 a beautiful song with beautiful lyrics HOWEVER its the first song i couldnt connect with thus it’s down here BUT I STILL WOULD LISTEN TO IT ON REPEAT THO... the last in my ranking but still fucks 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️ thats taylor swift 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

13. long story short: i have never been in a relationship ever BUT GODDAMN ‘pushed from the precipice, clung to the nearest lips’ hdjsksksjjddjnBbdns jddd ubebs!:!?:?:$3&39383$hzjs WOAH.... and this bitch really summarized the full 2016 drama with long story short it was a bad time. HILARITY. yeah not much to say here tho this is just the ‘at least one mandatory song to shake your tits to on each ts album’ song of evermore <3 and always remember that if the shoe fits walk in it TILL YOUR HIGH HEELS BREAK WOOH ANDIFELLDOWNTHEPEDESTALRIGHTDOWNTHERA—

12: dorothea: making a lark of misery :D RENt free. i had to listen to ‘if youre tired of being known for who you know you know youll always know me’ 113 times to finally understand it tho 😐 some of us are stupid and illiterate have you ever thought about that miss swift???? anyways TINGTINGTINGINGINGING THE STARS IN YOUR EYES SHINED BRIGHTER IN TUPELO <33333 such an innocent feel good song I LOVE!!!!!

11. ivy: the goddamn here and the hush of mirrorball ARE THE REASON IM STILL ALIVE 😽 another lyrical masterclass <3 ‘id live and die for moments that we stole on begged and borrowed time’ IS2G!!!!!!!!!!! anyways what if you cheated on your husband with me and i cheated on my husband with you and my pain fit in the palm of your freezing hands 😳 JK JK 😅 unless...... 🤪😏 hdjsks yeah this song is magnificently cursed and i am in love with it 🧎‍♀️

10. tis the damn season: this song is august but the other side of the coin. august but four months later. AUGUST SLIPPED AWAY LIKE A BOTTLE OF WINE- THE HOLIDAYS LINGER LIKE A BAD PERFUMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE... she sounds so pretty goshhh! ‘time flies messy as the mud on your truck tires NOW IM MISSING YOUR SMILE hear me out we could just ride around and the road not taken looks real good now’ is on repeat in my mind. and as always the bridge ::::::::::::::.............:::::::::::::: how does she do this everytime. ‘and wonder about the only soul who can tell which smiles im faking’ 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️ after every ts song i listen my expectations about true love grows exponentially and my chances of finding true love falls exponentially simultaneously ADIEU.

9. willow: she really took the invisible string quartet and put it in huh..................... FUCKED IN THE HEADDDDDDDDDDDDDD. what can i say <3 its just such a pretty song <3 hashtag gorgeous hashtag i cant say anything to its face. WRECK MY PLANS!!!!!! WRECK IT BITCH!!! ‘wait for the signal and ill meet you after dark’ LOVE STORY WHIPLASH. also mate i cant even focus on the song she looks SO GOOD in the music video i—

8. happiness: !!!! what can i say.... one of the best songs of the album hands down. lyrical masterpiece AND musically rich. she really logged into tumblr dot com and typed out ‘THERE’LL BE HAPPINESS AFTER YOU’ AND ‘THERE WAS HAPPINESS BECAUSE OF YOU’ ARE IDEAS THAT CAN COEXIST and logged off...... h8 her and her insanity. the one word i have to describe this song is: picturesque. tis a picturesque song <3 oh and dfbhhffcbhDDVHHTRSDVJK when i heard ‘i hope she’ll be a beautiful fool who takes my spot next to you’ i audibly GASPED and then she says ‘no i didnt mean that sorry i cant see facts through all of my fury’................. i fell out of my chair. IT FELT LIKE AS IF SHE HEARD MY GASP AND TOLD ME SPECIFICALLY THAT NO SHE DIDNT MEAN IT LIKE THAT... anyways yeah. ill write an article one day named THE SWIFT DECEPTION OF TAYLOR about how she keeps writing songs with deceptive titles and this will be the opening case 😈🤙 also the fact that this is one of my faves and i put it in number 8 says a lot......

7. evermore: i havent recovered from ‘motion capture. put me in a bad light’. i mean come on the whole goddamn song is a lyrical masterpiece. ‘writing letters addressed to the fire’. IS SHE OK!????????????? i think tf not. beautiful song beautiful arrangement. iver sounded really good too. and lol lol rofl WOOFWOOFbarkbark ‘HEY DECEMBER GUESS IM FEELING UNMOORED’ unmoored definition from google dot com: no longer attached. she doesn’t go back to december anymore. about2 faint oml. long story short: i did not survive. THIS PAIN WOULD BE FOR EVERMORE........ what i felt with this song is that she took the quarantine sadness we all felt at least once this year and made it into a masterpiece of a song. couldve been easily the top song on any album except this. no i will not elaborate <3

6. no body no crime: i cannot believe. she teased us with a musical number. this woman teased us with. a musical number. I THINK SHE IS WRITING A MUSICAL BUT I JUST CANT PROVE IT! when she wins that tony 16 years later call me prophetic xoxo. anyways yeah she literally wrote this to flex her storytelling abilities. send tweet 🐥

5. cowboy like me: YEEEHAWWW I’LL BE HONEST WITH YOU I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT THE FULL SONG SOUNDS LIKE I JUST HAVE THE BRIDGE ON REPEAT!!!! OMFG!!! the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up. AAAA!! ??? STFU. IM NOT EVEN TALKING ABOUT THE LYRICS MATE THE WAY ITS SUNG!!!!!!! GUT WRENCHING! the best bridge she has ever written musically. i cant stop listening to it. REALLYYY DID BELIEEEVE I WAS THE ONEEE. STORIESSS ABOUT WHEEEN YOU PASSSEDDD THROUGHH TOWN. y e l l. and then she hits me with ‘now you hang from my lips like the gardens of babylon.’ L ???? M !!!!! A $$$$$ O “”””” i had to pause it and sit there for 10 minutes to take in what i had just heard. case closed critical hit sustained yeedhawd.

4. tolerate it: i cried. the only reason it’s not 1 is because it hurt me too much. WHAT THE FUCK YOU MF YOU ASSUME IM FINE BUT WYD IF I BREAK FREE AND LEAVE US IN THE RUINS???? TOOK THIS DAGGER IN ME AND REMOV— m8 this physically hurts me everytime. if its all in my head TELL ME RN. aghhh aRghhhhhhh. pain. and lol she broke down sleep to its bare essentials ‘breathing with your eyes closed’.

3. ??? coney island: i know it’s a bit of a controversial top three but WHO CARES 🕴this is solely here for ‘AND IM SITTING ON A BENCH IN CONEY ISLAND wondering where did my BABYy GO’ im shaking. my bed is shaking. my body is shaking. my pupils are shaking. THE WAY SHE SINGS IT OH MY GOODNESS ME i have to lie down gimme a sec. ‘and if this is the long haul howd we get here so soon 😟’ SCREAM. and when i was hearing it for the first time and she said ‘sorry for not making you my centerfold’ i was like yeah and?? so what?? and then she hits me with ‘over and over’...... so she didnt make him/her/them her centerfold over and over !!!!!!! she is sorry she didnt do it over and over!!!!!! mannn.... the chorus.. i shall not speak. i am held at gunpoint i CANNOT SPEAK. the bridge tho dhdnsksksjsb I CAN SPEAK AND I SHALL SPEAK. BITCH WENT OFFFFFFFF. <3 this is the apology she deserved from her exes which she never got so she wrote it herself. podium. grey skies. birthday cake. ACCIDENT. im laughingggggggggggg <///3 and yeah so overall it is a really yummy song with yummy vocals and yummy arrangement 9/10 would recommend. also!! life lessons kids life lessons. disappointments? SIMPLY CLOSE YOUR EYES AND PRETEND YOU DO NOT SEE IT YAAAAAAAAAS

2. gold rush: ETHEREAL!!!!!! The last time i felt like this™️ whilst listening to a song was with mirrorball <3 the production of this song omg omg omg LOVE 💃 but what propelled it to number two status was the ‘i dont like slow motion double vision in ROSE BLUSH/ i dont like that falling feels like flying till the BONE CRUSH’ imagine how fucked in the head a person needs to be to rhyme rose blush with bone crush. yeah i have nothing more to say really this song is extremely gorgeous and ‘eyes like sinking ships on water so inviting i almost jumped in’ / ‘walk past quick brush’ ?:!:!&:8483 F A V E <33333 and the transition transmission transfusion from ‘... gray old tea cuz itll never be ᵍˡᵉᵃᵃᵃᵃᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʷⁱⁿᵏˡⁱⁿᵍᵍᵍᵍ’ MADAME

1. champagne problems: are we surprised? ARE WE REALLY SURPRISED? when listening to new albums i normally listen to it at one go in order. i stick to that rule. HOWEVER after many years of my solid album listening self made rule tm i finally broke and immediately replayed this mf song after listening to it once. ‘you had a speech, youre speechless/ love slipped beyond your reaches’???? stfu???? VILE. PUNISHABLE. DEROGATORY. and welp the entire bridge ...... .... ........... what can i say. And the parallels to miss all too well??? WHAT WAS THE REASON???? your SISTER splashed out on the bottle- left my scarf there at your SISTER’s house 😐 she’ll patch up your tapestry that i SHRED- maybe this thing was a masterpiece till you TORE it all up 😐 your MOM’s ring in your pocket- your MOTHER’s telling stories bout you on the tee ball team 😐 November flush and your FLANNEL cure- PLAID shirt days and nights when you made me your own 😐 wHAT A SHAME SHE IS FUCKED IN THE HEAD IS2G........... and also why would she not rhyme POCKET with LOCKET?????? why with wallet???????????? slant rhyme why????????????? AND THE NOTE THIS MF SONG ENDS ON..... FUCKED IN THE HEAD

THATS IT. i really sat here and did this for the past 2 hours huh...... hhdjsms anyways LONG STORY SHORT: I HATE ONE INSANE WOMAN AND HER NAME IS TAYLOR ALISON SWIFT. GODSPEEED 🏃‍♀️