#Choosing to be kind even before the stuff he goes through later on is difficult and it's not always rewarding

[bijoumikhawal]

I have been posting much about Hebitians lately but I was struck with affection for Julian while looking at face ref pictures... that's my guy. My sweet cheese.

[vidreview]

VIDEO ESSAY ROUNDUP #4 (or: The Grind)

[originally posted january 3rd 2024]

it's 2024! i know nobody's happy about that, but here we are. bit of a weird roundup this time because i'm going to spend most of my time talking about one specific channel, as i think it's a useful example of what "success" looks like on youtube and the internet more broadly. so let's get right to it!

"no one knows who created skull trumpet (until now)" by Jeffiot.

i have a feeling that by the time this roundup goes live, Jeffiot's investigation of who, exactly, made the famous skull trumpet gif will have made the rounds in a big way. the algorithm recommended it to me and, as i often do, i opened it in a new tab to watch later. over the course of that same day, i saw three separate people on three separate websites independently say "hey, you should watch this." like any god-fearing youtuber i will gripe about the algorithm until the cows come home, but even i have to admit that a broken clock is right at least twice a day. this is just a solid, entertaining, unique, and earnestly impassioned video essay dedicated to the simple act of giving credit to someone for creating one of the most timeless and universally beloved images on the internet (a subject that has been very hot lately, thanks in no small part to Hbomb's recent video about plagiarism). all else aside, i have to applaud Jeffiot's visual style and production quality. now i'm gonna go watch some of his other videos :)

[20 minutes later] you need to watch It's: Doors™ right fucking now. finally, a video essayist who understands that horror and comedy are the same genre! the rare, fantastical species of creepypasta-knower who seems to understand that the backrooms aren't creepy just because there's a monster! and it's pretty good filmmaking to boot! this is exactly the kind of thing i'm always imagining when i talk about the artistic potential of video essays-- how the medium allows you to blend fiction and nonfiction, personal subjectivity with factual objectivity. i love finding a channel like this, it's like uncovering a goldmine in my backyard. how did nobody notice before??? i'm off to go watch more, will report back if i have further thoughts.

[11 days later] i must report now, having watched a multitude of videos on Jeffiot's channel, that this guy has the stuff. i didn't need to watch as many vids as i did to confirm that he has the stuff, but then again, when someone does have the stuff, it's not like you can stop at just one or two. as a general rule, when i watch a video from someone i've never seen before, i always click through to their channel and see what else they've got on offer. one of the unstated calculations i make in what i choose to cover in this blog is that i am more likely to recommend a channel that has multiple essays of similar quality. you'll understand why in a moment.

i can see why Jeffiot's channel didn't take off until now, as many of his videos are esoteric in subject and presentation. not in a bad way by any means, but in that way where if i saw one of his thumbnails in a lineup i would probably conclude it wasn't for me. this is the chief hazard of producing videos that are complex and intricate: they're fucking difficult to advertise. good art in any medium often requires a lot more prompting and persuasion before an audience can buy in, especially in an environment so drowned in easy, safe alternatives. this is why i try to watch through videos even if they make a bad first impression, why i try to watch multiple videos on a channel, so that i can get a sense of the voice behind the work. there are amateur creators out there with an identifiable spark that Will burst into something special eventually, if you just give em a little leeway and try to see what they're doing for what it is. luckily this is not a problem with Jeffiot at all. everything i've watched of his is fantastic and appallingly high effort. it's a channel that might be a hard sell at a distance, especially if you're not into horror-focused channels, but if you just give it time you'll see that he's got a lot more on his mind than appearances might suggest. this is someone putting in the work, clearly not satisfied with doing the same thing more than once, with videos ranging in subject from a frenetic examination of the logic of Death in the Final Destination movies, to an astonishingly journalistic investigation of the history of the Gävle Goat, to an odd and heartfelt exploration of the intoxicating and terrifying call of the void. it's rare to find someone who scores so high on style, substance, and verifiable source usage all at once.

and yup, i was right, he went from having just over 5k subs when i first started writing this draft on December 22nd, to exceeding 50k less than two weeks later, with the skull trumpet vid itself sitting pretty at over a quarter of a million views, the most of anything on his channel by several orders of magnitude. i mention all this because i think it typifies The Grind, on youtube but also as one working in any creative economy online (if you utter the phrase "content creator" at me i'm going to erase you from history). getting started as a video essayist, you will pour your heart and soul into videos that almost no one will watch. you will try to chase the algorithm, and it won't work. you will try to make something just for you, and it also won't work. some vids will break through more than others, but the progress will be achingly slow to the point of feeling nonexistent. you will do this for months and months, in some cases years, and you will ask yourself always… is it worth it? am i just dumping my art into an uncaring void for no reason?

i speak here from personal experience. i posted my first proper video essay in December 2013. i didn't have a real Hit until five years later, with a defense of a ContraPoints video in September 2018, which was successful in part because it was amplified by Natalie Wynn herself. but even then, it took until March 2019 before my video about The Politics of the McElroy Brothers took off (this time thanks in part to a lot of visibility gained from guesting on Hbomb's DK64 nightmare stream) and really pushed my subscriber and patreon numbers into "can actually pay some bills with this" territory. prior to both of those moments, i was convinced that i was at an insurmountable dead end. so you see, sometimes "luck" is getting a boost from popular strangers at the right time. while i did not expect the ContraPoints defense to gain any traction at all, the McElroy vid was weird in that everyone i talked to about it in the months before its release was immediately excited by the pitch. a rare case where i had reasonable suspicion that This One Might Be A Hit. but even then, i figured it would fail. when it didn't fail, in both cases, there was a terrible temptation to pivot my entire creative focus to just doing More Of What Worked. unfortunately for my wallet, i'm constitutionally incapable of making good business decisions, and so generally failed to fully take advantage of those opportunities in the ways a Mr. Beast might advise. but i also happen to think that it was the right call to not make those pivots. i would hate to be stuck just making response videos, or pigeonholed as the "politics of [podcaster]" gal. i stand by those videos (i think the McElroy vid still has some of my funniest jokes), but neither of them is particularly the kind of thing i would like to continue making in perpetuity. and anyway, you can't chase what works, because "what works" is always changing. unless you want to make half of your job studying the ebbs and flows of the Greater Video Essay Marketplace, only suffering and ruin lies down the path of trying to reproduce viral success.

the thing about making a living online is that what the job fundamentally is, is laying the groundwork for a future bit of good luck. if your very first video takes off, that's good for your views and sub counts, but it's an open question how much of that audience will come back for seconds. youtube is littered with channels whose first video went big and then nothing made a splash after that. unless you're a Big Established Channel, most of your traffic is going to come from a very small percentage of your videos. the people you want to court are not the mass audience, the hundreds of thousands who turn out when the algorithm and zeitgeist grants you time in the spotlight. the people you want to court are the folks who click through and watch your other stuff, who like what you do, and who will show up for you even if a project isn't something they expect or know they'll like. you want those people because instead of commenting "just play the hits" they'll tell you how surprised they were at how much they liked the wild swerve you took. so you put your heart and soul into releasing stuff even though it feels like screaming into the abyss, because it means that someday, when (if) you get lucky, you've got a broad foundation of existing works that new viewers can then jump to, giving them a sense of your proclivities as a critic and artist, how you've grown and developed over time, and what kind of commitment you rhave to the work you're trying to get paid for. this is important because anyone can make one good video essay. i repeat: anyone can make one good video essay. it really isn't that hard! it's the people who do it multiple times, on multiple subjects, in multiple different forms of expression, over a long stretch of time, that i think are most often worth paying attention to, and most reward material support.

the algorithm really isn't straightforward at all though. my experience for a long time was that when i released a new video, the new thing would drop like a lead balloon, but some random older vid of mine would get a huge bump in viewership. my essay about netflix's tendency to abandon its originals from all the way back in April 2018 still gets randomly promoted every once in a while! which is nice because i'm actually rather proud of that one. it's partially for this reason that i try to futureproof my videos, in the sense that i try to write for someone watching five or so years in the future (applying materialism to my analysis is a big part of this). youtube as a platform is incredibly wasteful in how it encourages disposable information, with no mechanism for mass rebroadcast or whatever, but if i still read media criticism written in the 1970s today, i have to imagine that people in the future will want to watch the media criticism of the 2020s for many of the same reasons. this isn't about legacy or an overblown sense of self-importance or anything, i just think it's good practice from a writerly point of view. you just never know what thing of yours is going to take off or when!

this is by no means a fair, just, or even particularly excusable system --it's defined exclusively by private enterprise with no input from the creators who generate the value that youtube's parent company thrives on-- but that's how it's been for a long time (and not just on youtube, even before the internet). i wanted to draw your attention to the graph at the top of this post precisely because it illustrates the long game of this gig. if you're not a creator, perhaps it can give you a sense of what it feels like waiting around to get lucky. an endless and desperate stream of little to no movement. no hope of change, no indication that anything ever could. nothing makes a dent, and no amount of work relieves you from the obligation to turn around and do it again, in the hopes that maybe this time something will be different. when you're really in the doldrums, it's never different. it can feel like being trapped in a wasteland surrounded by oases. all the youtubers you like are making money doing this, why can't you? you ask yourself if there's something wrong with you as a creator, or as a person, if there's something fundamentally unlikeable or whatever about you that makes succeeding at this gig impossible. you'll give up hope so often, only to get dragged back in for some reason or other.

and then, suddenly, for seemingly no reason, with the application of exactly the right video at exactly the right time (never a predictable combination), everything changes all at once. you watch in dumbfounded, horrified amazement as those numbers, long immovably static, multiply at an incomprehensible pace. the shock of it is so distinct it's like god tapped your shoulder and gave you protagonist privileges for a day. when this happens, you instantly and viscerally understand why so many people go absolutely out of their minds when this happens to them. such a sudden wave of attention is eldritch and, if you're queer or POC or cover any topics more controversial than watching paint dry, it's deeply threatening. but then you see comment after comment of people saying "wow this is so good, why doesn't this have more views?" and you're like, okay, so actually i've never done anything wrong in my life! it's awesome and vindicating and scary and such a relief and SO STRESSFUL all at once. you can just FEEL the 90 degree curve on that graph when it hits.

in many of his videos, Jeffiot talks about difficulties paying rent and making ends meet, begging as all essayists must for some portion of the audience to please give him a few bucks a month. since releasing the skull trumpet vid, his patron count has gone up from 92 in november to 160 at time of writing, and like, as someone who went from "i might have to get a full-time job" to "i can quit my shitty part-time job for at least a year" money over the course of a couple days, i feel such a vicarious thrill of relief on his behalf. what's better than getting a raise??

so we have two numerical changes to look at here with Jeffiot's success. 5,000 subscribers to 50,000, vs 92 patreon backers to 160. the disparity in magnitude there is huge, and crucial to understand if you're an essayist in your early days and you want to stay remotely sane. for all the thousands who subscribed to the channel from one video, only 68 decided to pay him for his labor. of those 68, how many do you think watched only this one video and then immediately went to give him money? or did they see the quality of the work on the rest of his channel from the launchpad that was the skull trumpet vid, and only then decide this is someone worth supporting? in my experience, it's the latter who form the longterm base of support that you come to rely on. they're the ones who stick with you through the slump eras when your pen dries up and you just can't pump em out like you used to. and trust me, you will experience slump eras, no matter how sigma your grindset.

the hits come and go. it's very likely that Jeffiot's next video will hit with a thud and stall out at, like, 20,000 views on the high end. but that's the grind, man. you aren't courting the thousands, you're courting the handful of weirdos who share your particular brand of derangement. infinite growth is impossible and unsustainable. i share all this with you because i think it's helpful to dig into an example of "success" within this system as it happens in the wild. so that maybe you can get a sense of what the business of this gig is for people with more ambition than content farming and response videos, and adjust your behavior towards such creators accordingly.

in any event, i wish Jeffiot all the luck in the world, and i'm very much looking forward to whatever he produces next.

hey, remember how this is supposed to be a roundup post? let's get back to that.

"The rise and fall of New Atheism" by Costanza Polastri.

i previously highlighted another Polastri video in VIDROUND #2 (is that what i'm calling these? that can't be what i'm calling these), and i'm gonna keep on recommending her stuff as long as it's this good. does a great job explaining the appeal of new atheism among millennials while also criticizing its worst elements. this topic so often gets discussed with a lot of exaggerated rhetoric and loud hyperbole, so to have Costanza talk about new atheism with such easygoing humanism and frankness hits different. i also share her feeling that new atheism did a poor job of replacing the social roles religion plays, and her desire to find something religious that isn't the institutional religions we're stuck with, or cults, or the church of the flying spaghetti monster.

"Alan Wake 1 & 2 | A Self-Indulgent Retrospective" by Pim's Crypt.

two entire Swedes in this roundup? and they're both channels focused primarily on horror genre analysis? i don't have a punchline to these questions. this is an enjoyable and digestible retrospective on the Alan Wake games from someone who really cares about them, which is the best kind of retrospective. these days i vastly prefer listening to someone talk about media they love than media they hate, and as someone who has a lot of gripes about Remedy's games it's always useful to get the perspective of someone who likes their stuff. full disclosure, i haven't finished watching this video yet because i haven't finished playing Alan Wake 2, but 58 minutes out of a 73 minute runtime feels like enough to give an honest recommendation.

"The Rise and Fall and Rise and Fall of X" by What's So Great About That?

Grace Lee is quietly one of the best video essayists out there. her stuff is always, without exception, insightful, well-researched, and polished to a mirror shine. this video is largely about the semiotics of the letter X (and, eventually, what it means to Elon Musk), and digs into a surprising amount of literature on the subject along the way.

THE "DOESN'T NEED THE HELP" ZONE

"It's time to talk about Plagiarism… again" by Jack Saint.

the post-Hbomb-plagiarism-on-youtube conversation continues. bless Jack Saint here for his insistence that lazily-researched bordering-on-plagiarized videos are popular because they're systemically incentivized. i also can't believe that the new Wonka apparently isn't complete garbage? anyway i think the evolving plagiarism discourse is fascinating to watch, and i like the insight that Jack brings to the table.

"The Obsession with Bad Games" by NeverKnowsBest.

echoes many of my thoughts on the toxicity of so much games discourse, particularly the vitriol directed at "bad" games. traces the influence of AVGN to now & and dares to ask "is the hate really worth it?" so often gamers treat bad games like an assault, and you know, movie reviewers do this too, but in this post-gamergate world such naysayers just so happen to be a significantly influential audience segment capable of amplifying their vitriol all the way up the chain to the likes of Elon Musk. it really doesn't help that tech types have well and truly devolved into spoiled children appealing to the butthurt gamerbros, that corporations like Disney hear their protestations louder than any other voice regardless of how numerable such voices actually are.

and that's it for this roundup! fewer recommendations than normal because of the lengthy Jeffiot analysis, but i think it was worth it. there will probably be another roundup this month as a result!

thank you to everyone who's sent me video recommendations to my askbox! to repeat from the previous roundup, please feel free to send me under-appreciated videos, new or old, made by you or anyone else! no promises that i'll cover anything you send of course, but i WILL see it.

take care of yourselves in this brave new year, folks. it's gonna be a weird one!

<- ROUNDUP #3 | ROUNDUP #5 ->

[jackrrabbit]

spank bank HCs /// Oikawa, Atsumu, and Kuroo x s/o (18+)

A/N: Been thinking about how the hq boys practice self-love 😏 Kind of a palate cleanser, I want to do this for more characters haha

Tags/warnings: pornography, masturbation, sex, edging, lots of mentions of different porn categories, Kuroo is a little shit, all characters are 18 or older

Oikawa Tōru

Oikawa has a weird relationship with conventional porn. On one hand, he’s a young healthy guy with an equally healthy sex drive, and what can he say, he likes watching girls get pounded

On the other hand, the kind of porn you find on sites like PH is always ugly men fucking beautiful women, and as a pretty boy Oikawa finds it hard to identify with. Like where is the justice??? How is it supposed to be believable that a gorgeous woman in her twenties is really moaning that hard for an aging male pornstar with more hair on his chest than on his head?

So he opts for the perfect alternative: camgirls!

He has three or four different channels that he bounces between. His favorites are the ones that are well-lit, nicely produced, high quality film and lots of eye contact. He never interacts or chats with them though, he’s kind of a lurker

Very very into solo acts and toys. You know those sites that let you control the speed of a girl’s vibrator by donating certain amounts of money? Oikawa lives for those. All his pocket change goes toward camgirls, it’s a real problem

Once the two of you start dating, Oikawa’s sexual needs are mostly sated because…well, he’s got you, and you’re a hundred times hotter than any random girl on the internet. But once in a while it’ll still happen that your schedules don’t line up or you’re on your period or it just doesn’t work out, and he’ll get pent up again

When that happens, he’ll return to his old stand-by channels. It’ll be kinda nostalgic getting off to girls fucking themselves with glass dildos or grinding on vibrators in front of the webcam

But the problem, the problem is that he can’t get you out of his head, and when he’s looking at “jasm1neXXX” doing her cute little striptease, he keeps feeling like he’s betraying you :(

So Oikawa bids a regretful goodbye to his old favorite camgirls, and begins the search for one who looks like you. The resemblance doesn’t have to be perfect, it can be something small—hair that matches your color, a moan that falls into a huff of breath like you do—just enough that he can imagine that she’s you

Definitely never tells you that he gets off to porn. Feels guilty about it even if you wouldn’t care ➳

Miya Atsumu

Kinda the opposite of Oikawa when it comes to porn. His preferences are extremely fuckboyish

Into a little bit of everything. Lesbian, gangbang, bondage, creampie, step-sibling, whatever. You name it, he’s seen it, and he’s probably jacked off to it. The only thing he’s resolutely not into is amateur stuff. Atsumu doesn’t fuck with that low-budget bullshit

Definitely not here for the storyline though—he’ll skip ahead in the video past the setup (seriously, who gives a fuck about why the babysitter decided to spread her legs for the the pizza delivery guy) so he can get to the good part

Into edging. To spice things up a bit if he’s got at least an hour of free time he’ll go through a bunch of different videos, jerking himself off slowly while he watches a pretty girl get wrecked, up until he feels his stomach drop and he’s riiiiight about to cum when he’ll stop. Wait. Let himself fall down a little bit, hold back, drop away from the edge. And start another video just so he can do it all over again

Atsumu doesn’t really know…why he likes edging. It’s very frustrating. It makes him antsy and horny and tense, so he’s not sure why he does it. Once when he was doing it, he got interrupted and couldn’t finish until ages later and it was probably the most unpleasant thing he’s ever felt that wasn’t physical pain. He was seriously this fucking close 👌 to smacking the shit out of the person who interrupted him (it was Osamu complaining that he was sick of getting sexiled for over an hour)

It just…feels good, okay? It feels real good to finally get to cum after he’s been edging. Jerking off every other day can get old, so a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do

Favorite category is probably public sex! The possibility of other people overseeing is so fucking hot

Overall, Atsumu has a pretty high sex drive and feels zero guilt about watching porn. Even if you guys are dating, he has needs and you’re not always around to help with them, so that’s where PH and XV come in

Absolutely not shy about it with you. Legit if he’s watching something he wants to try that he just saw in a porno, he will not hesitate to text you the link and be like “hey watch this n tell me what ya think”

Even if you’re not the type to be appreciative of his porn recommendations, he will still def take notes from what he watches and apply them irl. Atsumu is plenty aware that porn is unrealistic, but he’s more than capable of sifting out the good from the bad, and it helps him be…let’s say creative in bed

Want to know where he learned that new move or that extremely bendy position? You don’t have to wonder. It’s porn. He learned it from porn ◎

Kuroo Tetsurō

Kuroo tends to get in a bit of a dilemma because he likes sex and his sex drive is through the roof, but he Does Not. Like. Masturbating.

He much, much prefers to have sex with a partner—to be fair, who doesn’t?—but Kuroo will take it to an extreme. If he’s not able to see you, he’ll go weeks without touching his dick for any reason that isn’t pissing or washing

Literally...a couple months after you started dating, his family made him come on a three-week vacation to Hawaii and when he came back he complained that it was the worst three weeks of his life

“You were in a tropical paradise getting a tan and you’re acting like it was a war zone. Stop whining.” “But baby, you weren’t there! I was so horny, you have no idea, I thought I was going to die, I thought my dick was going to fall off—“

It gets annoying.

When he gets his hands on you after a decent period apart, he’ll be like “I saved myself up for you baby <3” and you’re like “um, ew, why are you so gross”

If he doesn’t wear a condom with you, be prepared for the fact that he cums a lot. A lot. You’ll be in the shower afterward cleaning up and it’s like, there’s more? There’s still fucking more???

You ask Kuroo once why he doesn’t like jacking off, kind of awkwardly, after a four-round fuckfest that left you too shaky to even hold your hips off the bed, and he pauses for a second to think about it before answering

“Well…imagine you have a choice between two meals. One of them is a gourmet steak from a five-star restaurant, and the other one is…hm, a McDonald’s hamburger. You can have the burger whenever you want it, but the steak is only available once in a while because it’s rare and you have to appreciate it when you have it. Which would you choose?”

Okay, fine. That’s kind of cute

It’s less cute when you guys are apart and Kuroo gets really desperate, desperate enough that you get 6 texts in a row from him at 1 in the morning implying that he’s in some kind of dire emergency

“babe”

“BABE”

“911”

“🆘❌⚠️🆘”

“please I need ur help it’s important”

“call me asap”

You call him all frantic, asking him if he needs you to call the cops or something. Is he in trouble? Hurt? Is there a home invader threatening his life?

Nope, he’s totally fine, he’s just horny and wants to have phone sex. That son of a bitch

If you tell him off badly enough, Kuroo will relent and make do without you. He will, however, request nudes to help him through this difficult time

Send thoughts and prayers instead ✷

[zeta-in-de-walls]

What's the most common misconception you hear about c!tommy?

Hey! Really interesting question, cheers. I’d say that there’s quite a few misconceptions floating around: that he never apologises, that he hasn’t developed, that his exile was his fault, that he’s the main source of conflict on the server, that all he does is steal, and plenty of other stuff.

But the one I probably hear most is how Tommy supposedly values music discs over people.

This one is such a mess of misconceptions. I’ve even heard it said that Doomsday happened because Tommy cared about his discs too much and he was wrong because you shouldn’t value items over human lives. I hate this one because it misunderstands Tommy enough so you can dismiss him because its such a weak position. 

Anyway, I understand why its so messy. Tommy throughout season 2 is frequently in a state of uncertainty and is being driven by emotions and isn’t thinking clearly after so much suffering. He says a lot of stuff he doesn’t mean and is very suggestible. Most of his talking about the discs is done when he’s lonely and thinks his friends don’t care for him anymore, that they’re better off without him.

Now, let’s be clear: music discs are something Tommy’s character loves. His happiness every time he listens to one feels very genuine. He’s had so many emotional moments listening to his discs with others and even considers his bench his happy space. He likes them and invites others to listen with him. These items hold no intrinsic value, they’re of no worth to anyone else besides how much they mean to Tommy. The only reason to take them is to try to control him specifically. That’s the original reason Dream took them in the original disc war - to punish Tommy after he caused some trouble. 

And the original disc war was fun for Tommy. He found the battle to be exciting and enjoyed trying to outplay Dream with his best friend Tubbo and anyone he could get on his side. It was like a fun game to him. One that, while chaotic, no one really got hurt from at all - the only one who really suffered was Tommy himself, who put stuff on the line for it and had his whole base dug up. (And Tubbo who got dragged in and lost items, but he was initially a very willing partner who found the conflict fun too.) 

And then we have Dream, who traded away L’Manburg’s independence for Tommy’s discs, an interesting decision which meant only Tommy really paid the price that day. Everyone remarked on how unusually selfless it was of Tommy. That day was a victory for everyone else, but bittersweet for him. Wilbur consoled him, saying they could get them back and then they’d have even more history and sentimental value attached to them, having been what paid for L’Manburg’s freedom. Tommy was encouraged and so the game continued.

Dream over this time became not just Tommy’s enemy, but his friend. They had fights and conflicts but it was more like a fun game. As they also did stuff like make a church together. Eventually Tommy managed to steal Mellohi back from Dream while Skeppy acquired Cat. At the elections, Tommy gives Mellohi to Wilbur who gives it back again when they’re banished. Months pass and they finally win back L’Manberg and its a wonderful day (until it goes wrong) but Tommy’s not done with his disc war. 

This disc war was always a personal thing for Tommy, he’s never wanted others to be dragged in and hurt by it. He kind of takes Tubbo for granted, but Tubbo’s also always been his partner in crime and Tommy enjoys having a war he can fight alongside his best friend - he and Tubbo against Dream. Dream at this point is still seen as a friendly enemy, in spite of choosing Schlatt and helping Wilbur blow up L’Manberg. Anyway, he rejects Presidency, giving it to Wilbur because he trusts him and also wants to focus on his personal battles after so long ignoring it. He doesn’t want others to be dragged in or for his interests to be divided. He’s leaving L’Manburg in safe hands he can trust. That’s season 1 of the SMP, but season 2 is where things get messier.

After the war, Tommy hears that Tubbo had been suspicious that Tommy might’ve been the traitor. In order to show that he trusts him, Tommy gives Tubbo Mellohi. It’s not just a disc now, its a sign of trust, a sign of their bond - at least in Tommy’s eyes.

Then Dream builds obsidian walls around L’Manburg and we first see Tommy showing that bit of selfishness. He states that he’d wanted to step away, that L’Manburg wasn’t his priority anymore. That he’d left it in safe hands so he could focus on the discs. But it doesn’t matter what Tommy intended. Dream is targeting him and is dragging the rest of L’Manburg into it by threatening to seal them in obsidian forever if they don’t comply. Tommy and Tubbo do have a disagreement here, but its not actually so much about the discs. 

-Tommy believes that fighting Dream is the superior option, if they ask for help from others in the server - because what he’s doing isn’t right - then they could defeat him, show him that he couldn’t just push them around. 

-Tubbo feels like that would get them killed and he doesn’t want to risk their lives. It would be better to appease Dream for now and secretly plot how to take him down later but Tommy’s being too hotheaded. 

Tommy brings up the disc to state how he trusts Tubbo and would consider being exiled a betrayal but Tubbo reminds him that they’re just discs and there’s more on the line and Tommy needs to be more cooperative. Anyway, Tommy’s hurt by Tubbo exiling him and think its a sign that he doesn’t care about him anymore. Tubbo meanwhile found it difficult to do but felt like there was no other option but did still care about Tommy. Tubbo would later come to regret doing it while Tommy would later say that it was the right choice when they finally actually talk. 

The discs here are kind of a symbol but Tommy doesn’t really value them over others, he’s being a little selfish for sure but that is mostly a result of being treated unfairly by Dream and feeling attacked and ganged up on by his friends, not seeing how they were trying to help him. Dream’s the one to blame here. At worst, Tommy’s being irresponsible in thinking he can just step away from L’Manburg - he didn’t value the discs over it, he just wanted to fight a personal battle without L’Manburg being involved for once. But too many things do matter to him and Dream realised he could attack Tommy through his friends. Its also why Tommy says he didn’t want Tubbo to be President, because he wanted him to be free to help him in his personal war too. There were some issues in their friendship that for sure got exploited and blown out of proportion.

So post-exile. Tommy is rather confused. He’s decided he doesn’t want to die and that Dream wasn’t really his friend, but he still feels abandoned by all his other friends. He still believes they didn’t really care about him after his failed beach party and everything else. And his feelings on Dream are mixed because he knows logically he should hate him but emotionally he still feels like he’s his friend.

Tommy at this point, begins clinging to the discs as some sort of tangible goal while feeling so lonely and abandoned. He has no real sense of agency and really wants Technoblade to give him guidance. Technoblade however wants to destroy L’Manburg and reaffirms his thoughts that Tubbo doesnt really care about him. Tommy is still...kinda(?) clear that he doesn’t want L’Manburg to be destroyed but is willing to compromise on minor terrorism. His remaining belief in L’Manburg is being eroded. You can see in his trips into L’Manburg he is rather unaware of the extent of his actions. He’s suffered and now feels right in lashing out. It seems to be the start of a villain arc even. Right at this point, the discs make more sense than people so they are his goal. And yet even in the midst of his uncertainty, he says the one Tubbo has is safe, he wants to get the one Dream has. 

The discs are Tommy’s way of saying he wants to fight Dream. It’s not really about the discs anymore, Dream went way too far with the exile and now Tommy wants to stop him and find it easiest to frame it as going after his music disc.

Then the festival. Tommy finally confronts Tubbo and sees him about to give his disc to Dream. It’s his worst fears confirmed, that Tubbo doesn’t really care about him and that he’s on Dream’s side. They fight and Tommy finally says the line ‘the discs were worth more than you ever were!’

And he regrets it immediately. The statement rang false. They were just discs and Tubbo was his best friend. He immediately tells Tubbo to give up the disc and changes sides then and there. The discs were not more important than people. He was being selfish. And he also remembered how much he cared about L’Manburg and didn’t want it to be blown up no matter what he’d agreed to the day before. He wants to fight for it, choosing his friends once and for all. 

In his argument with Techno on Doomsday, he does bring up his discs and words it kind of awkwardly. He tries to explain that ‘nothing had been taken from you, while the discs were stolen from me’ Tommy believes that Techno is destroying something people loved when he could’ve just walked away, he wasn’t fighting for something he loved like Tommy in his wars. That’s what he’s trying to get at, not that music discs are more important than people. Tommy doesn’t actually believe that and prefers wars that don’t hurt others, as the disc wars was once supposed to be before Dream brought in everyone else. Even saying that, Tommy admits he’d messed up so many times in chasing the discs. That he was wrong.

Tommy talks about going after the discs again but at this point it really means taking down Dream. Dream had expressed that he would not stop, he enjoyed their ‘game’ too much. Tommy has nothing left to lose as far as he’s concerned and needs to take down Dream for everything he’d done. 

During the disc saga finale, again Tommy always chooses Tubbo first. There’s this one moment where he has Mellohi and could run away forever but he stops and gives it up along with all their items before their taken to the vault and almost forced to watch Tubbo die while he gets thrown in prison forever. But he chooses Tubbo. He always does. 

Okay, summary over. I hope that better explains why I dislike the misconception that Tommy chooses his discs over people. He doesn’t really. It’s used to discredit him way too much, I feel. It’s only at his lowest, after being tormented in exile that he even gets close to that position and that’s when he’s on the bring of choosing a dark path and becoming what he hates. At the festival, he rejects that path.

Now that he has his discs, he hasn’t started trouble with them once. They’re safe and he can bring them out to listen to when he’s feeling low, not hurting anyone. They’re just something he loves and its okay to have attachments. 

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Hope: The Smuggler

A continuation on this little piece I posted a couple of days ago. Just something small knocking around inside my mind. 

CW: Escaped pet whumpee, BBU, guns, scarring, referenced past torture, ~mysterious world-building references~

“Allie!” Gyasi hops down from the truck, the tread of her work boots crunching into the rock salt scattered over the road to melt the ice. 

Snowflakes are already starting to drift down, landing in Gyasi’s hair and laying white and beautiful against her black braids pulled back low at her neck. They melt a moment later, but it’s definitely snowing a little more than it was a half an hour ago, and Allie’s sure there’ll be another big buildup tonight. 

Allie’s mouth always goes a little dry when Gyasi is in town, and she has to lock her knees not to have them wobble as she gives her most welcoming smile. “Welcome back, Gya.”

“Always a pleasure.” Gyasi crushes her in a hug. The other woman only comes up to Allie’s nose, and still she feels sort of helpless at every touch. Funny, how she’s the deputy head of security for Hope, and still someone as slim and slight as Gyasi can make her fall to pieces. “I got a team of  six this time, all names you know. We’re going in with seven rescues and a couple libbers with pretty big felony convictions about to come down, hopefully coming back with a metric fucking ton of insulin, plus the usual other shit.”

“Great.” Allie has to clear her throat to keep her voice from coming out husky and trembling. She pulls back from the hug, looking over the truck. The man sitting in the passenger seat gives her a wave, and after a second Allie remembers him, too - Charlie or Chuck. Another truck pulls up behind that, and then a van. “We’ll be sending you in one vehicle at a time. Once we get clearance the first makes it through, we’ll send the next.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know how it goes. Rescues first-” Gyasi points to the van. “Then our libbers go in the truck. Chaz and I’ll bring up the rear.”

Right, Chaz. Allie always forgets his name. 

“And if you’re caught-”

“I know, Allie-cat. I was never here, there’s no road through the woods, we snuck through an hour east of here.” Gyasi reaches up to pat the side of her face, and Allie wonders if she’s just going to black out one day when Gya does that. “We didn’t give you away the last time one of us got picked up, we won’t this time, either. Trust me.”

“I try to,” Allie says, voice softening a little. It’s hard, to be soft - her life has been one of needing to always be sharp-edged, ready to kill or fight on command. Softness came only after she made it here, and even then only with time. “You know I try to trust you, Gya.”

“Well, try harder, because I’m trustworthy.” Gyasi laughs, deep and rich, and then her eyes shift to the side. Her smile, wide and bright, starts to fade slightly. It returns a little faded, unsure. "We have a watcher, Al.”

“What?” Allie turns to look over her shoulder, instinctively tensing at the possibility of a threat - and then relaxes. “Oh. He’s, uh. He’s shy. That’s our new kid, he came up from Florida.”

“Oof, what a long trip.”

“You’re not wrong. Leslie said he needed to be in No Man’s Land, although she refused to say why. Come on over here, kiddo!”

If Gyasi tops out with her hair not quite high enough to touch Allie’s nose, Esteban doesn’t even clear her shoulders. He’s a skinny, short thing, drowning in a huge canvas winter coat he’d arrived in. His cheeks and the tip of his nose are bright red from the cold he’s still getting used to, and he’s got big thick black gloves on, a woven knit cap pulled down to cover his ears, dark brown curls sticking out all around it, brown eyes sparkling.

Leslie had left him with fleece-lined jeans, heavy socks and a promise to wear two pairs with his boots, all the sweaters you could imagine, and strict admonitions not to try and go without gloves just because some of the others who’ve been here longer do.

His breath puffs out in front of him as he jogs over from where he’d been lurking at the side of the admin building (well... it’s really just Brock’s house). “H-hey, Allie.”

"You look frozen, Esteban.”

“It’s not so bad,” Esteban says, cheerful as always, even as his nose looks like Rudolph on a bad day. “I’m getting used to it. I wanted to watch the trucks! Who is this? Are these new people like me?”

“Oh, I’m not like you,” Gyasi says, without judgement, but Allie still sees Esteban’s shoulders hunch a little under his layers, catches the embarrassed flush that darkens him even under the cold. “Gyasi Templeton’s the name. I run meds, mostly. And people.”

“Run...?” Esteban’s curiosity overcomes his mood, and he turns to look at the two trucks and the big van, then back at Allie. 

“I’m a smuggler,” Gyasi announces happily. “I smuggle.”

“Right.” Allie points to the van first. “Her group does runs to Canada through here. Meds, runaways, pet lib groups. Other stuff that it might be hard for us to get hold of on this side of the border, Gya’s group can bring through here.”

“Technically, we go through there.” Gyasi points, gesturing to the forest just visible at the horizon, the soft smudged line of dark green and brown. “It’s a bumpy road, let me tell you, halfway up a fucking mountain and back, uh.. you said Esteban?”

“Yeah,” Esteban’s replies, shyly, half-hidden behind Allie. “That’s my name.”

“You pick it out?” Gyasi’s not really that interested, just making conversation. Allie can see her distraction - she’s in a hurry to get moving, hoping to make it through the trees before nightfall and the snow make things too difficult or dangerous and force them to wait it out. 

Esteban, though, doesn’t seem to notice. “Yes! Dr. Osmond let me choose my own name, he was very kind to me. He was very kind.”

Allie swallows, jaw setting into a firm line, shoulders tensing. She, after all, has seen what the kids hands look like under those gloves. Scarred and with one pinky permanently bent, one of his other fingers doesn’t even close. 

“No, he wasn’t,” Gyasi says, and she glances back at the truck, with its engine still rumbling. 

“What?” Esteban blinks. 

“Nobody kind has a runaway Boxie who goes this fucking far to get away from them.”

Esteban looks away, something shifting in his expression. Allie, as a rule, doesn’t give a fuck about sob stories. She has her own, and she’s heard so many on top of that. She stopped letting them sink into her skin a long time ago. But she finds herself wondering what Esteban’s expression - wistful, sad, but oddly bittersweet, too - could possibly mean. 

“Ethan wasn’t nice,” He mumbles. “But Dr. Osmond was, in the lab where I was first.”

Then he gives Gyasi and Allie another bright smile, but it’s more brittle than it was before. “Nice to meet you, ma’am,” He says politely. 

Allie frowns, though. “The lab, Estenban? You mean Facility, right?”

“The lab,” Esteban says patiently. “In the Facility. Where I grew up. I’m gonna go, it’s getting cold.”

“Wait, what do you-”

“Later, Allie.” He bumps his shoulder lightly against Allie’s arm as a kind of farewell, and crunches his way back out of the road and onto the sidewalk, heading in the direction of the adjustment house, the first place anyone stays until they’re ready to settle down.

Allie watches him go, a chill settling into her chest.

What lab? Where he grew up? Leslie said he came out of some exec’s house. And the exec sure wouldn’t be a doctor... 

“Cute kid,” Gyasi says, startling Allie back out of her thoughts. “But we have a contact waiting for us at an auto shop in Nick’s Island. Next time we’ll get coffee, right, Allie-cat? And you’ll finally watch Clue with me?”

Allie feels something flutter in her chest. Esteban’s odd mysterious statements forgotten, she quickly nods. “Will do, Gya. Stay safe.”

“I never stay safe, it’d ruin my fun.” Gyasi crushes Allie briefly back into another hug, and then climbs back up into her truck, settling back in. “Let them know we’re going through, we’ll be there in ten or fifteen.”

Allie’s already pulling out her radio. “Your escort’ll be ready for you when you hit the path. You already paid up?”

“Yeah, I paid Brock half direct. You’ll get the other half of your cut when we come back.”

“Right. Half in cash, half in meds.”

“Same as always. See ya, Allie.”

Gyasi’s truck rumbles away, the second truck and then the van following after it. Allie radios the group working the road through the woods today, but her mind keeps going back to Esteban. Dr Osmond. A lab. Where I grew up.

Now what in the hell does that mean?

-

@finder-of-rings @burtlederp @astrobly @doveotions @whump-tr0pes @symphony-of-greys @orchidscript @boxboysandotherwhump @whumptywhumpdump @wildfaewhump

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding Part Three: SW Time Travel AU #27

Part One

Part Two

Obi Wan woke with a dry mouth and a moderate headache. A fairly typical morning these days. 

He peered around his bedroom in the temple confused. Wasn’t he just with Cody? Shouldn’t he be on the Negotiator? No wait, the war was over, Cody tried to kill him, and the Negotiator was a part of the Imperial Armada, of course he wouldn’t be there. He closed his eyes, snuggling back under the covers. Before he could drift back to sleep, his sluggish mind processed that last thought. 

He BOLTED upright in bed. The temple had been razed, his personal chambers scorched with particular thoroughness. Just being on Coruscant was an automatic death sentence. Faint tendrils of panic began to curl around his throat before he remembered his decision to give Spice a try. He had reasoned that he should probably find at least one pleasure in his new life, instead of focusing incessantly on what was lost. 

So what if he lost a few brain cells? Good riddance. 

Obi-Wan had been a bit nervous, but this had ended up being his best decision in years. His goodbye to Cody had been painful, but deeply cathartic. Spice Hallucination Anakin didn’t scream like Nightmare Anakin, and the color of his eyes was perfect. Far better final memories to cling to than reality- a reminder of the good times. Comforted, he relaxed backwards in bed, pulling his blankets back around him.

He LURCHED out of bed, covers tossed aside, movement a blur.

He was still hallucinating?!? Spice shouldn’t last in the system this long! He might’ve been uncertain about whether he was supposed to smoke or snort the substance but it was a well known fact that its exhaustive but rapid passage through the body was half what made it so addictive. If nothing else, his well-restedness and thirst indicated it had been at least six hours. He looked frantically around the room, searching for some thread of unreality to pull at.

This...was not good. Hadn’t the subconscious manifestations of his friends mentioned drugs that interacted poorly with force users last night? He had dismissed it at the time but...

He clearly was stuck in some sort of drugged fantasy combined with force-enhanced memory recall. Kriff, he had to wake up in the real world before he died of an aneurysm. Or just dehydration.

He sat on the ‘temple floor’ to meditate. This could be tricky as he couldn’t risk lowering his outer shields to reach out to reality. It would be deeply embarrassing as well as horrifying if the Emperor managed to find him and, by extension, Luke because he got stuck in a bad spice trip.

The door to his room clicked open quietly. 

“Oh! You’re awake. Sorry to come in without knocking, Master. I wanted to let you sleep, but I’ve been checking on you every two hours to make sure you were still, you know, breathing. You were...pretty out of it last night and I would be a pretty bad ‘best friend in the whole galaxy’ if I let you choke on your own vomit, right?” His blue-eyed Padawan explained with a grin.

Obi-Wan just stared. Oh this- this hurt. It was easier last night, when the whole fantasy had a kind of drunken blurriness. Sleeping and waking had brought sober clarity to the dream world. He could see the bags under Anakin’s eyes as well as the sheepish slouch of his shoulders as he instinctively ducked at the door frame. It was just so real.

“Obi-Wan? Are you feeling ok? Do you still feel drunk?” Anakin asked concerned.

Obi-Wan shook his head. He hesitated, before deciding to just go along with the interaction. He didn’t want to risk his subconscious throwing a less idylic scene at him by pretending to ignore this one. And besides, last night had been, all totaled, a huge relief- an unburdening of things left unsaid. This was probably the closest thing to therapy available to him these days, he might as well take advantage.

“I’m just...processing. Not to mention dealing with some mild dehydration.” He finally answered.

“Processing, huh? So does that mean you, uh, remember last night?” Anakin asked nervously.

“I do.” Obi-Wan smiled gently. As heart-wrenching as this was, it was also adorably sweet. Maybe it was worth it to push off waking for a little while. He could get some closure, maybe even work through some of the past to see where the two of them had gone wrong. It might even be helpful for Luke! Force willing, he would probably end up training Anakin’s son someday.

(the boy wouldn’t have many masters to choose from)

If this dream world could help him figure out specifically how he had failed as a Master, then he owed it to the galaxy to see it through. Satisfied, he resolved to let the fantasy play out. At least for a few more more hours. And...he had missed what Anakin had said. Wonderful start.

“I’m very sorry, Anakin would you mind repeating that? I was still a little distracted, but I promise, I’m focused on you now.”

Anakin shuffled nervously. “It’s nothing.”

Obi-Wan tried to project reassurance without actually projecting. “Please Anakin, I’d like to hear what you have to say. I know I wasn’t the most observant or approachable Master, and I’m sorry for that. But I have always cared about your thoughts and feelings.” It was a struggle and the words caught in his throat, but the raw burn of the apology was cleansing in an almost addictive way.

Anakin flushed. “Did you mean everything you said?” he asked nervously.

“I’d...rather not talk about seeing the destruction of the temple, seeing you... Maybe later...but please, I just don’t want to focus on it while I’m sitting here, looking at you,” Obi-Wan said quietly.

“That actually wasn’t what I was talking about,” Anakin responded quickly. “I mean, I do want to help you with that at some point, but I get not wanting to talk about visions, even if you should probably should. Of course if you do want to talk about that stuff, that’s more important, but since you don’t we can talk about the other stuff you mentioned. I was more referring to, you know, us, and what you said about our friendship?” his voice got progressively higher the longer he rambled. 

Obi-Wan thought back. “Well some of it is a little hazy, but overall yes. I...for a very long time I’ve considered you my best friend, and its not so easy for me to let go of my affections. I miss spending time with you; there are times I turn to say something and am still shocked you’re not there. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, with real words, how much I cared. I’m sorry I didn’t hug you as much as I wanted, looking back that was a nonsensical Jedi custom. It’s not in the code; it’s just an affectation of dignity. All things considered, the fact that you often snuck out to see Padme doesn’t really bother me.” He paused. “Was that everything?”

“Oh. Yeah, that pretty much covered everything.” Anakin looked embarrassed, but happy. “I wasn’t sure if you were just saying that stuff because you were drugged, or really drunk or something.”

“No, I meant what I said. I suppose it just took an altered state for me to relax enough to actually say it instead of just thinking at you and assuming you would know. I must admit, its difficult for me to maintain this emotional honesty without feeling drunk, but it’s good. This is good.”

“Ah, that’s... wow. So you weren’t drugged? Cody was concerned you seemed to off for much you actually drank.”

Obi-Wan frowned. Hadn’t that been a trip? Vision blurring from desert hovel to some nameless Catina he once visited with Cody. The continuity since then was almost unsettling. But, then again, Obi-Wan always did have a remarkable talent for self-delusion, didn’t he. He waved away the concerns.

“My substance consumption was entirely deliberate and exactly what I needed. There might have been some unknown additions with some unforeseen after-affects, but like I said- I’m not drunk. I’m clear minded and in full control right now and I knowingly accept the current fallout from whatever I took. I could meditate and force purge to completely recenter, but I think it would be far wiser to just see where this goes. Do you disagree, Anakin?”

Anakin grinned widely. “Whatever you say, Obi-Wan. Just remember this is your idea. Also, I’m taking you to the healers tonight if you’re not completely back to yourself.”

Obi-Wan signed, “If I’m not back to myself in 12 hours, than I fully agree that’s a problem worthy of the halls of healing.”

“Right,” Anakin nodded decisively, “I’ll go get you some water then comm Cody to tell him you’re still alive.

Obi-Wan smiled weakly in response. This wasn’t just a hashed up memory; the responsiveness was more that. He quickly got dressed, hands lingering over soft fabrics and sand-free linens.

Anakin dropped off a cup of water; Obi-Wan sipped at it hesitantly. Dear force, this was dangerously vivid. It actually felt like a relief in his parched mouth. Clearly his subconscious was pulling out all the stops to trap him in this soft delusion. He would have to deal with the thirst and hunger until he woke up- it was probably the firmest link he had to his real body.

He took one last look around before rushing out of his room, eager to take advantage of the time.

Anakin looked nervously up from the comm when Obi-Wan started pulling his boots on. “You’re not going out in the temple like this, are you?”

“Of course! I want to visit the gardens and the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Not to mention spend some time with a few of the other Jedi. You might still be the dearest being in my heart, but there were other Jedi that I care for, and dammit I’m going to tell them that.” He finally finished lacing up his left leg and moved to the right.

Anakin was dumbstruck, presumably as burnt by the ‘dearest being’ comment as Obi-Wan was. Then he rallied, “Wow, wow, No. You are not running around the temple drugged so you can, I don’t know, give Mace Windu a hug. I thought when you said you were going to ‘deal with the fallout' from whatever the kriff you’re still on, you meant you were going to lounge around the quarters all day!”

His former padawan physically blocked the door when Obi-Wan started to leave, sounding vaguely hysterical, “You can’t run around loopy! You’re a High Council Member!”

“Not anymore,” Obi-Wan replied bitterly. 

“What do you mean not anymore,” Anakin said fiercely, grabbing on to his shoulders . “Did they kick you out? Is that why you’re acting crazy? Did you resign?”

Obi-Wan responded by pulling Anakin into a hug, which was immediately returned, “Of course not, don’t be absurd. Fine, I suppose I’m technically still a high council member, it just seems like a bit of a moot point.”

“What the kark does that mean? You used to dream about being on the council! You’re the wisest Master in any of those stupid chairs!”

‘Master of the High Council’ Kenobi just sighed heavily in response. He maneuvered around the confused errant Knight and into the hall. 

"Obi-Wan wait! At least eat something first! Or let me put my shoes on!”

“Very well, you have one minute to make yourself presentable. I only have a few hours before I’m going to need to get back to reality, and the longer I linger the more I fear extreme measures may be necessary.”

“What does that mean?” Anakin shouted from inside. “Extreme measures sounds really ominous, you know.”

“I’d rather not get into it, alright? Let’s just enjoy the here-and-now, eh, ad’ika?

Anakin crashed out the door with less than a second to spare. “What did you just call me?"

“Ad’ika,” Obi-Wan answered, striding down the hallway in the direction of the hanging gardens. “Surely you must have picked up some Mando’a from the troopers?”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t sure if I heard you right, bu- um- ori'vod,” Anakin fumbled out. “Uh, you’re not going to call me that in front of anyone else, right? You do remember that the council already gives us the side eye for over-attachment right?”

Obi-Wan hummed thought fully in responded. “There are far worse things a Jedi could do than admit to affection they already feel. Maybe if I had been honest about my attachments, they wouldn’t have ended the way that...” he trailed off quietly.

“The way that what,” Anakin asked frustrated. “You’re really giving me some emotional whiplash over here, and I’m starting to think that putting off dragging you to the healers is a stupid idea.

“There are far stupider things a Jedi could do,” he responded cheerily. “Oh look, there’s Plo Koon. MASTER KOON!” He shouted, startling the Kel Doran Jedi.

“Yes, Master Kenobi?” He replied slightly concerned as the two human Jedi came jogging over.

“I just wanted to say that I consider my former padawan my family. I raised him, I care for him deeply, and I don’t want to let go of those feelings.”

Plo Koon nodded seriously in response. “I feel just the same about my former padawans, and the Wolffe pack, of course. Denying my attachments isn’t, personally, a practical way to handle them. I’d rather honestly live as an imperfect Jedi than pretend to be a perfect example of the code. If I must have some imbalance, I’d rather it be an excess of compassion than a dearth,” he replied earnestly.

“I always admired that about you,” Obi-Wan replied ruefully. “This might be a little odd, but could I have a hug? I hold you in the highest regard and I’ve realized that there are so many Jedi that I never directly expressed my affection for and...”

Plo Koon didn’t wait for Obi-Wan to finish before wrapping his arms around him. “Of course, dear boy. You’ve had such heavy burdens placed on your shoulders during your life, especially in the last few years; it saddens me to see how deeply they’ve weighed you down. If there’s anything I can do to help, in any way, you simply have to ask.”

Obi-Wan sniffled slightly into Plo’s Shoulder while Plo rubbed soothing circles over his back.

A few passing Jedi gave the embracing Masters uncomfortable looks before hurrying on their way. Anakin stood slack-jawed.

When they finally pulled back, Plo Koon hesitated before finally asking, “I don’t mean to pry, but what brought all this on? I can sense much grief from you, even through your impressive shields.”

“It’s a long story,” Obi-Wan replied, wiping at the corner of his eyes. “I’d rather not get into it.”

“He’s high,” Anakin offered bluntly. “He took something last night and won’t go to medical wing.”

“Ah,” Plo said. “Is that true?”

Obi-Wan looked a little embarrassed. “I have the situation under control. My connection with reality might be...slightly altered right now, but my emotions, and what I chose to do with them are my own. I’m just, taking advantage of a unique opportunity to express myself.”

Plo Koon seemed to scrutinize him intensely, “If you’re sure this is what you need, than I support you. Just don’t do anything too foolish.” he finally offered.

Obi-Wan beamed. “I appreciate you saying so, I thought you would be supportive. Farewell, Master Koon”

Obi-Wan offered a respectful bow and then turned to walk away briskly. Before Anakin could follow, Plo rested a claw on his arm. 

“Feel free to comm me if his behavior reaches a point where you think he truly needs a healer. I’m happy to help you drag him there if need be. A little cathartic release isn’t in of itself such a bad thing, but if he starts acting too out of control...”

Anakin nodded in acknowledgment, then ran off to see who else Obi-Wan had chosen to throw himself at.

Part Four

[whatdamiwatched]

Max & Helen - From the Beginning...

In preparation for the sharpwin ship sailing next week, I went and rewatched season 1 to really contextualise the way their relationship has developed, and I have to say it was quite eye opening.

The Introduction

We are introduced to Georgia in the first scene with Max via his phone screen, there’s a photo of her as his background photo. Their first conversation on screen happens when he calls her in the middle of this day just after he speaks to Helen for the first time

Max- Just calling to say hi

Georgia- Really?

Max- isn’t that what people do?

Georgia- people, yes. You…not so much.

Max- I’m trying, I’m going to change, I’m going to win you back

Georgia- well you have 12 weeks.

It isn’t until later that we find out fully that this marriage is failing and being held together by guilt and a difficult pregnancy, which makes it even worse that Max’s attempt at “trying” was calling her in the middle of the day to say nothing compelling.

Enter Helen- confident, smart, an asset to the hospital and the only doctor Max personally seeks out on his first day- to insist that she immediately cut down on travel or get fired. While the other doctors are stats and figures to him when he starts at New Amsterdam, Helen is Dr Helen. Already their relationship is being established as different from his relationship with the other doctors. In a throat biopsy, he’s distracted by her on tv- so distracted in fact, that he’s pushed to give her another ultimatum even though the first one hasn’t expired.

Max’s ultimatum was significant for Helen because for the first time since she had been running and hiding from the pain in her life, someone saw her and cared enough to make her stop. Even though it was a medical director she just met, and it was because of work, it was grounding for her for someone to see her and need her in that way.

Her choosing to come back was significant, not just because of Max, but because it was the catalyst for facing the emotional baggage she had been trying to escape.

So here we are- Max in the hospital where his sister died and donated her organs, trying to find closure and Helen- weighed down by emotional baggage that she’s ready to face.

Tell Me One True Thing

Georgia and Max meet in the hospital where he works- her energy is light and energetic; their connection is fun and their first date is in the hospital cafeteria. From that scene, their banter is fun and flirty, but Max is relaxed – they both are, it’s an easy connection. When Max proposes, he does it by the hospital when he’s on call! He’s in his scrubs and not only does he think that’s okay- she thinks that’s okay.

Their relationship never really existed outside of his career, he never put her first, and she points this out when she finds out about the medical director job. She knows that he will not choose her over the hospital, especially not the hospital where Luna died. The thing is, Max doesn’t even really try. He never chooses her, and she never actually expects him to.

When he almost dies at the lake and has the temporary epiphany that he has to take his cancer seriously, she doesn’t advocate for him to leave his job- even though…he almost died. She knows the job still comes first. Georgia and Max’s relationship thrived on emotional distance- when Georgia begs him in her hospital bed to tell her one true thing- he could only say- I love you. While he and Helen debated his cancer treatment, her only input was going with what Max wanted? When he woke up from his minor tooth surgery, his first thought wasn’t how the surgery chain went, it was what helen said specifically.

I love my doctor

Before Helen, Max had likely never felt true intimacy and vulnerability. He had likely never been able to be himself completely with a partner. We don’t know much about his relationship with his parents, but we can deduce that he’s not close to them.

Although the physical chemistry was palpable from their first scene, Max and Helen built a friendship based on trust and honesty since they let each other in very early. This relationship was built with the best intentions but every relationship comes to a point where emotion supersedes emotion and that’s where we ended up at 1x 16 where the clairvoyant tells Max that he’s going to lose someone close to hum. As soon as she assured him that it wasn’t his wife, he pulls Helen aside to reassure her and try to explain how he feels about her ending by saying “I love my doctor”.IN THE MIDDLE OF TREATING A PATIENT IN THE MIDDLE OF A STORM WHILE MARRIED. At this point, both Max and Helen are at a crossroads of the undeniability of their connection, even though they are both too principled and respectful to call it anything other than “this thing between us”.

At the lake, when he goes to spread ashes for Luna, he says to her- or to the wind that he’s addressing as her- everything I do is because of you. I just keep trying to save you , over and over that’s all I do and I never, never will.

Now where did we end up hearing those EXACT words before?

In that moment, it’s Max admitting that he’s been consumed with emotions that are clouding his judgment and he has to let go.

When Helen uses those words in 2x16, the subtext is the same. By that time, she had saved his life and even Georgia’s life- multiple times. She even saved his life twice in one episode! She saved his life by taking on his cancer in the first place, she saved his life by choosing to pass him off to another doctor when he was using their relationship as an opportunity to not take his cancer seriously and she saved his life by making the decision for him to stop that treatment when it wasn’t working. She took on the role of deputy medical director- which let’s face it was more or less the medical director, she found him, not one but two trials, she gave up half her department that she loved more than anything. She gave up her romantic relationship- she meant it when she said everything I’ve done I’ve done for you- just like Max meant it when he said it to Luna. Max and Helen had have both poured themselves into people that couldn’t pour back, one because she was dead, and the other because he had too many warring emotions to deal with.

Helen could have let Max save her more- he definitely was willing to be that person and showed it many times, but we have to accept that she was in a very difficult position. Just as soon as she felt settled, started a new relationship, made a decision about freezing her eggs, she’s hit with a consuming, intimate relationship with someone that’s married. She had to leave some walls up.  

Everything I Do Is For You

Their characters have gone through a lot- Helen has a dead parent and a dead fiancée, fertility issues and a fear of vulnerability and the feeling of running out of time- Max has a dead wife, who he had outgrown emotionally, raising a child alone, battling with grandparents that blame him for their daughter’s death and parents that by all indications don’t play a significant role in his life, plus a dead sister he has carried with him his whole life. Finding each other was in many ways, the catalyst each of them needed to move forward with life at so many points. For Max, he could have very well died without Helen- Georgia could have died in the bedroom without Helen- his grieving process would definitely have been longer and more complicated without Helen – it wasn’t insignificant that she was the one that pushed the ghost of Georgia out of the apartment, she was an anchor through it all.

For Helen, she was pushed to come back to the hospital and by having that anchor to a place and her patients, she was able to explore romantic relationships and face her fertility and wanting a child head on, she was able to explore how much of herself she could give to another person again after Mohammed died and try another relationship. In turn, she was able to be in a different position when Mina came to live with her.

By Max receiving the kind of selfless love he had never gotten before (from the parts of his story we’ve been told), he was finally able to heal, from so much of the stuff he’d been carrying to come to a place where he feels able to match Helen’s energy. To come to a point where he’s able to see himself as a WHOLE person, not just a flawed one- not just a guilty one- not just an overworked or crazy or erratic one. The speech at the end of 3x13 to Luna’s parents showed just how far he’s come; how much he’s changed and how much his relationship with Helen has changed him. The confidence that he was enough as- is a Max that we had never seen before.

And Helen- naming them- before now, it’s always been Max with his double meanings  and his “I want to build something better for you and Mina” and “It helps not to be alone” and “I can’t do this without you”, but this time it’s Helen- Helen who is saying “us”- Helen who is putting them together as a family and is relaxed and comfortable doing so. Helen who isn’t simply giving him advice as a friend or listening to him but giving him advice as an anchor- we are here and we are fine and you need to fight for our family because it’s worth it.

I see you

The decon shower. His hand trailing down her neck. Those voicemails. Here they are finally, trying to get into an ADULT relationship. Moving beyond the cute hand holding and lingering looks, to hopefully many kisses, many distractions and many mornings waking up next to each other.

Sharpwin is coming and I’m ready!

[sunsetcurvecuddles]

Road trip to nowhere in particular. Bobby just likes to drive. Reggie just likes to point out cows and horses out the windows. Maybe he counts them. Maybe he names them. Either way Bobby has to pretend to be annoyed/mildly amused even as he is experiencing SO MUCH LOVE

hi this is both sadder and longer than i intended for it to be so it is now also available to read on ao3 here. warning for allusions to child abuse.

seems like i’d take a new road | boggie | 2.1k

--

It's still barely bright outside when Bobby pulls up and parks the car a few houses down from Reggie's, so he doesn't risk waking Reggie's parents. As he gets out of the car and goes to knock on Reggie's window, Bobby rubs his eyes, wondering what kind of insanity possessed him when he suggested they leave so early.

Reggie's already sitting on his bed when Bobby comes up to the window, hands folded in his lap, backpack at his feet. The light from the lamp on his bedside table casts shadows across his face, makes him look thoughtful, and quiet. He looks up almost as soon as Bobby comes into view, like he knew, somehow, that Bobby would be there.

Or he just heard you coming, idiot, Bobby chides himself, but when Reggie grins, eyes way too bright for the hour, Bobby feels a matching smile tugging across his face without his permission.

—

"Okay, okay," Reggie says, as soon as he's plonked himself into the passenger seat, rifling through his backpack immediately, "I've got snacks, and soda, and sandwiches for lunch later, and some mix CDs, but I don't know which one we should listen to first, since—"

"Reg," Bobby interrupts him flatly, even though it's absolutely killing him not to laugh. "Seatbelt first, thanks."

"Oh." Reggie sits back, abashed, and buckles in before returning to the contents of the bag. "It's just very important that we have the right mix for the drive. It has to fit the atmosphere. That can make or break the whole trip!" He's gesturing all over the place with his free hand, still half-buried in the oversized backpack on his lap.

"Right," says Bobby, as though he's totally on board.

"So," Reggie hums, "We've got a selection, so, I'll just read them all out to you—"

"Don't worry about it," Bobby tells him, turning the key and pumping the gas a few times as the engine rolls over before it properly coughs to life, "you just pick something."

Reggie stops, looks up at him wide-eyed. "Are you sure? I know that I like weird music. Alex would die before he let me choose a CD."

"Do I look like Alex?" Bobby retorts, and Reggie's face splits into a huge smile.

"I know the perfect one. It's gonna be so good, Bobby, promise."

—

This is how Bobby spends the next half an hour listening to a burned CD of all Reggie's favourite country songs, as the sun rises over the road and he takes them out of the city. Even this early, there's traffic, because LA is a nightmare city from hell and Bobby hates it, but leaving early has definitely given them an advantage. Reggie winds his window down and rests his arms on the window edge so he can sing Tim McGraw out to the city of angels to wake her up and ready for her the day, and Bobby settles in for the drive.

They'd both been going nuts, was the thing. Bobby’s just had too much work to do, and there’s always so much noise at home, his little siblings underfoot and on top of him and exhausting, as much as he loves them.

Bobby knows Reggie doesn't have such benign reasons for wanting to get away for the day. However, Bobby also knows better than to push him on it, especially when he's in such a good mood, belting the lyrics to Memory Lane (when Bobby swats him and tells him the song sucks, Reggie just smiles bigger, belts even louder). Reggie pretty much universally refuses to acknowledge that there's a problem until it becomes impossible to ignore.

Like last week, when he'd called Bobby from his home phone, whispering a request to pick him up — please, just for a few hours, Bobby, and then I'll get out of your hair, it's just — and Bobby had been able to hear the banging and yelling even on his end of the call. Or when he'd turned up at Bobby's place with a black eye last month, had ended up sleeping in Bobby’s studio, curled up to Bobby on the couch, shivering even under the blankets Bobby brought out for them.

It's difficult to reconcile that image, of Reggie teary and silent and meek as Bobby had given him a pack of frozen peas to press over his eye, who had only shaken his head when Bobby asked him what happened, with this image, of Reggie with his head half out the window, singing and beaming in the morning sun. Tim McGraw's voice fades out, only to be replaced by more guitar (which sounds exactly the same to Bobby's ear) and Reggie's face lights up as he whoops, says, "This song is SO good, can I turn it up?"

Forget the morning sun. Reggie's brighter than it is.

Bobby makes sure his resigned sigh is extra theatrical before he says, "I guess so."

—

The next hour or so continues mostly this way, as Los Angeles becomes a more scattered, widespread set of houses and then eventually not much except desert. They share a packet of Haribo bears, Reggie insisting on giving Bobby the 'best colours' even though Bobby is almost certain they all taste pretty much the same, but he rolls his eyes and gives in when Reggie insists there's a subtle difference. At one point, the CD comes to an end, so Reggie swaps it for the next one. Which is also full of country. "Alex never lets me play any of these," he says defensively, even though all Bobby had done was glance at him out of the corner of his eye.

Bobby just shrugs and says, "I can see why."

And Reggie delightedly retorts, "Hey!"

After winding through the open, rocky expanse for awhile, things turn a little greener. Suddenly, Reggie breaks off singing to lean so far out the window that Bobby instinctively grabs the back of his shirt in his fist.

"Jesus, Peters, ass in the seat!" he huffs, mostly because his heart is still pounding.

Reggie has the decency to look a little sheepish as he sits back down, but still more excited than anything. "Sorry, Bobby, just — there's cows! Look, a whole field of them!"

There is, in fact, a whole field of cows. "Well, don't traumatise them by falling out the window."

"There's so many," Reggie continues, like Bobby didn't even speak, and then continues at a muttered volume, "one, two, three, four—"

"Are you seriously going to count all of them?" Bobby asks. This needs to stop. If Reggie's going to be this distractingly cute — no, just distracting — the whole trip, Bobby's going to crash the car, he can feel it. "You know they're going to move around and stuff."

"Oh," says Reggie, humming, "you're right. Hang on, I should name them so I can tell them apart. What are some good cow names? I think the big one up on the hill looks like a Betsy. And the brown one is totally a Buttercup."

Bobby groans, his heart growing three sizes in his chest, like he’s the Grinch or something. "Franco," he suggests at last.

"Franco?!" Reggie bursts out laughing. "You think 'Franco' is a good cow's name?"

"Is it not?" Bobby retorts, and Reggie laughs harder, throwing his head back and wrapping his arms around his stomach. The sound of him cackling almost drowns out Dolly Parton's voice still crooning from Bobby's stereo.

This Reggie. Versus the one who lives in Bobby's memory, tiny and silent, frozen peas held to his face with one trembling hand.

"Francesca," Reggie is saying, through his wheezing laughter, "now, Francesca is a good cow's name."

"Would you shut up about naming the cows and pass me a soda?"

"The calf is called Henry!" Reggie insists, as he leans to dig through his backpack. When he pulls out a can of soda and holds it out to Bobby, still flushed pretty-pink from laughing, his hair sort of a mess in his eyes, nose scrunched up extra cute, and Bobby feels his stomach softly flip over.

Well. That's a feeling he should repress.

"Thanks," he says, careful not to brush Reggie's fingers as he takes the can from him. Reggie doesn’t seem to notice. Thank god.

"You're welcome," says Reggie quietly, snuggling back down into his seat, looking out the window again. He points and says, "That one's called Oscar."

Definitely repressing, Bobby decides. Immediately. Forever. He can't have a crush on Reggie. Like, the band, and the fact that the last thing Reggie needs is for one of his friends to have feelings for him, as if he doesn’t already have enough going on. There are so many reasons he shouldn't have a crush on Reggie. Down, he tells the feeling, pushing at it in his chest, go down, stay down. "Is he?"

Reggie is oblivious, cheerfully rambling on, with no idea that he is causing Bobby a serious internal crisis. "Yeah. And that one's called—"

Bobby hopes it stays that way. He turns Dolly Parton up a little bit, and keeps driving.

—

They park and have lunch at the top of a hill looking over the valley. Reggie regales Bobby with some needlessly complicated story of the relationship between all the cows, as if they’re living a little soap opera down in the field. If Bobby’s going to be honest, he can’t follow the plot, but that doesn’t stop him staring at Reggie’s profile, the way he looks perfect here, at home among the grass and in the bright sun, how he comes alive being out here.

Bobby’s never really known what to think of the future. Before the band, he didn’t have much in his head to imagine. All his thoughts of the future were of his little siblings, what their lives would be like, but it was Luke who had first interrupted him and asked, “Well, yeah, but what about you, man? What do you want your life to be like?”

Maybe Bobby will save up and buy a farm out here, when all the band and touring stuff is done. So Reggie can come visit. Hell, maybe he’ll just buy Reggie a farm, with their millions of dollars they’re going to make when they’re all famous rock stars like Luke says they’ll be.

If we all have that much money, Reggie will buy his own farm, the voice in his head that keeps him in line sharply reminds him. Push them down. Push the feelings down.

“Here,” he says to Reggie, shoving his sandwich over. “You wanna finish this? Then we can get going.”

—

On their return drive that afternoon, Reggie is quiet. When one of the CDs loops back to the beginning, Reggie ejects it and doesn’t put in another one. The quiet is okay, Bobby thinks. It gives him a chance to catch his breath, to focus on the road, to forget all about his revelation from earlier in the day.

Winding back through the city, the sun dips lower in the sky. The city lights start to come alive as the evening sets in. Reggie starts to fiddle with the edge of his flannel, shift in his seat, like he’s nervous. A few times he breathes in, like he’s going to talk, and then doesn’t.

Bobby waits him out. He knows Reggie hates being pushed, hates stammering and fumbling for words when he doesn’t have them yet.

Still, he’s surprised when Reggie actually does break the silence. “Can I—” he starts, swallows, and then stops.

“Can you?” Bobby prompts, when Reggie doesn’t continue. His instinct is to reach for Reggie’s hand, but he does what he’s been doing all day, and pushes the thought down. God, what if Reggie’s noticed? What if that’s what he’s about to say? For a moment, Bobby feels cold, and nauseous. He sets his jaw.

“CouldImaybestayatyourplacetonight?” Reggie blurts out, all in one go.

Bobby breathes what he hopes is an imperceptible sigh of relief. Sure, it means a night of knowing Reggie’s out in the studio, probably cold. It means Bobby will inevitably climb out of bed, and out his window, bringing his extra blankets, to curl up with Reggie on the couch, to make sure he stays warm. Because that’s what always happens when Reggie sleeps over. And that’s a whole lot more complicated now that Bobby knows that he—well.

But Bobby looks at the worry on Reggie’s face, his stupid puppy eyes, and he can’t say no. Could never say no to Reggie anyway, he thinks. He needs to be there for Reggie, and that’s why his feelings have no place in this mess. “Of course, Reg. No problem.”

No problem, he tells himself, and does his best to mean it.

--

jatp taglist (lmk if you want to be added or removed!!):  @queenmolina @nickalicious @bi-reginald @jughead-is-canonically-aroace @multifandom-queer @cinnamonstickrayofsunlight @malecacidd

[joel-millerr]

Pushing Each Others Limits

Chapter Four of We Are One When Together (formerly A Mandalorian and a Smuggler

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 10k

Summary: You and the Child share an intimate moment. Mando continues to boss you around, and this time you’ve had enough, choosing to defy him because you’re a brat.

Warnings: oral sex (man receiving), drinking, doing sexual stuff under the influence, dom/sub mentions, angst, slight gambling, a little bit of fluff with the Child, mentions of death/mourning

A/N: also I did a little bit of research on sabacc and then realized it’s a lot more intricate than I thought so watch me make shit up about the game ahahaha

-------

“And why can’t I come with you?”

Mando’s sigh is heavily distorted by the vocoder, and the eye slit in the helmet continues to study you. Hands resting on his hips, he hovers over your body, scolding you like a child. “Because I said so.”

Chuffing out a scoff, your eyes roll dramatically as you press him again, forcing to crane your neck in order to maintain your gaze, “That’s such bullshit, Mando.”

“Too fucking bad.”

Fists white knuckling at your sides, your eyebrows are pulled together tightly, feeling the childlike anger bubbling inside of you. Deep down, you know Mando’s right. It’s becoming increasingly riskier for you to keep roaming the streets, but being stuck in the hangar with Peli is the last thing you want to be doing. You’d much rather be out, no matter how dangerous it might be.

“I am more than capable of handling my own, thank you for very much.” You warn before stomping your way over to the door to the hangar, but before you can even get close enough to the door, your body is yanked backwards, a large hand gripping your arm and whipping you to face the Mandalorian.

“Can you just listen for once?” He growls, broad chest looming over your smaller figure. Your throat goes dry instantly—this being the first time in two days that he’s been this close to you.

Neither of you have spoken about what happened on your first night here, and since then Mando’s been keeping his distance. Once again, he’s keeping you at bay, forcing you to guess what the hell is going on under that bucket of a helmet he wears.

Having a knack for reading people, it’s always been impossible to hide things from you because you were continuously capable of finding out the truth based on body language or facial expressions. Given the fact that Mando’s face is covered by kriffing beskar, you have no way of trying to get a read on him. It’s just a blank space, and no matter how hard your eyes focus on the slightest movement of his body or tilt of his head, you’re stuck guessing what he could be thinking.

So in truth, you’re a little resentful, and hurt. What happened in that alley was more than just a spur of the moment type of thing. You felt it—it had been building up since you both met, and since then the tension had become so disgustingly thick that it was bound to take you both over, but now? It’s like you’re back to square one. Actually no, it’s like he’s purposely ignoring you, as if he doesn’t want anything to do with you, but has no choice since you’re essentially stuck with him.

But despite this gnawing feeling that you’ve worn out your welcome, you’d still rather spend the day with him than with Peli. At least with Mando, the chances of him making small talk are low; an outburst between you and the owner of the hangar is much more likely.

And now you’re stuck in a stare down with Mando. Visor watching you, you stare back in defiance with one eyebrow raised, and your jaw angled. He probably thinks the longer he keeps his gaze on you that you’ll eventually give in to what he wants, but you’re not that submissive. You rarely give into intimidation, and quite honestly, there’s a part of you that enjoys seeing him get this worked up. Wanting to know just how far you can push your luck, you take one step closer until you’re merely inches away from cool chrome durasteel. Your body is burning up, heartrate rising and rising until it’s thumping against your ribcage, and you swear you can see his chest puff out slightly.

The hand on your arm releases and balls up as his side. Quick breaths emit from the vocoder, and you bite down on your lip to stop the smile from creeping up on your lips. It shouldn’t bring you this much satisfaction seeing him get agitated, but your ego is flourishing right now.

Pushing your limits even further, you lean into his body ever so slowly, and whisper breathlessly into the side of his helmet, “Please let me come with you.”

Mando’s shoulders stiffen and his chest heaves, the cuirass brushing against your breasts. You start to think he might be considering letting you come with him, given your shameless efforts seducing him to your will. He stays quiet for far too long, and the air is starting to get thicker, your ability to breathe is becoming too difficult.

Just when you start to think you’re in control of the situation, he presses into you and your forced to take a step back to keep yourself from falling backwards. His broad chest encompasses you once again, demonstrating that any control you had was just him manipulating you into thinking that. “No.” He commands, the syllable ripping through the modulator, and just like that, the argument ends. Not bothering to wait for your rebuttal, he saunters passed you, and disappears through the door of the hangar.

You want to scream; you want to rip your hair out like an immature kid who didn’t get what they wanted, but you stand there dumbfounded. What happened? Were you so naïve as to think that you had any kind of control over the situation? Was he just letting you believe that you have any chance in deciding what the outcome of the argument would be?

Hearing another door swoosh open, your head turns towards the sound to see Peli exiting her office and heading in direction of the ship. Her reaction to seeing you still here is a mix of disappointment and annoyance. You see her roll her eyes and curse under her breath, and even though you can’t make out what she said, you know it wasn’t anything kind.

She saunters over to Crest to begin any last-minute tweaks that it might need, her back facing you. Ideally, today would be the day to squash your quarrel with her, since you’re both stuck with each other for the rest of the day, and having to tip-toe around each other just because neither of you refuse to be the first to bring up what happened all those years ago just seems juvenile.

Taking a deep, almost lung burning breath in an effort to release all the anger concerning Mando, you push down any pride you have and make a beeline towards Peli. You know she can hear your feet hitting the ground as you approach her, and you observe her posture change—she tries to disappear further into the Crest, pretending to be so busy that she could completely ignore you, but you’re too determined to squash your issues to give up now.

“Can I help with anything?” You ask just as get closer to her. Peli’s back stays glued to you, she doesn’t even bother looking in your direction before answering. “No.”

Biting down on your jaw and fighting the urge to roll your own eyes, your lips press into a thin line before prodding her again. “Peli, I don’t want any trouble. I can helpful.”

This seems to get her attention because her back stiffens, head turning slightly in your direction before her words come out like venom. “Even if I wanted help, the last person I’d ask it from is you.”

Her words cause you to recoil, only now realizing just how much resentment and bitterness for you lies deep inside her. The guilt that follows causes your fingers to twitch at your sides, chew the inside of your cheek and stand there awkwardly, not wanting to walk away but also not having anything to ease the anxiety in the air. The only thing you can think of is to try to make conversation about the ship. Taking a few steps back and leaning your shoulder against the side of the Crest, you begin to speak gently, “When Mando and I were on Sorgan, I had noticed the beginning’s a fuel leak, but I wasn’t able to fix it since I didn’t have any handy equipment on me.”

An obnoxious sneer is released from Peli as she begins to march around the Crest, checking off her to-do list on the datapad in her hands. “I don’t see how you would have been able to do that even if you did have the proper tools.”

“I’m a very capable mechanic, Peli.” You snap back, trailing behind her. Growing up surrounded by ships has given you an extensive knowledge into how a ship runs—the intricate mechanics involved in keeping a ship in good condition. Therefore, you knew what you were talking about. If anyone could go toe-to-toe with you when it came to repairing anything, it was Peli.  

Finally pulling her eyes away from the tablet in her hands to look at you, she mumbles, “Don’t you mean a smuggler?” through gritted teeth, practically spitting the words at you.

Your weight shifts to one side, a hand placed firmly on your hip and clamping hard on your jaw to keep yourself from impulsively saying something you might regret later, you take your time trying to find the right words to respond with. “Look, you’re stuck with me all day, because somebody didn’t want to draw more attention to themselves, so we’re going to have to learn to deal with each other just for today. I know I can be civil, but can you?”

Peli throws her arms up, shrugging theatrically before going back to take notes on her datapad. “Just as long as you stay out of my way, I got no problems.”

Realizing there may never be a time to squash your quarrels with her, you retreat inside the Crest for some time alone. Climbing up the ladder to the cockpit, you settle down in one of the passenger chairs. The Child fusses in his pram, and sleepy eyes peer up at you, that gentle, childlike expression seems to make all your troubles disappear in an instant. Your head cocks to the side, admiring and gazing upon this little green creature.

His tiny arms reach out for you and you lean over to pick him up in your arms. He sits on your lap, a petite hand stretching out to touch your face. Your neck leans forward, closing the space between you and the Child. Three fingers caress your cheek, and just as that happens, a rush of emotions overwhelm you. It’s a familiar feeling—like when you reunite with an old friend after years of going your separate ways. All those years apart means nothing because now you’ve found each other. That kind of love—a rare kind of connection, usually found only in soulmates or family. You’ve only ever experienced it as familial—your parents were your soulmates. They meant everything you, and from this little baby in your lap, you feel it in him too. His giant eyes look into you, as if he’s letting you in on a secret—one he’s never felt before and is unable to express to others. It hits the same spot inside of you. That yearning for familial love and acceptance—devoid of judgement, just pure, kind adoration that’s been buried deep inside of you. Flashes of the Mandalorian flood into your mind, coming in quick bursts that almost make your head spin.

A large mammal with a giant horn on its snout. A mudhorn.

A female brunette.

She’s my friend! Cara is my friend!

A room engulfed in flames.

Let me have a warrior’s death…This is the way.

Sadness, love, a consciousness to protect—it’s all consuming. This is a bond between father and child, you now realize. The intensity in which the Child cares for Mando, it’s not only remarkable but heartwarming. In five years, you haven’t even come close to the kind of bond they clearly share, and it’s something you didn’t know you ached for. Actually, you probably knew on some level you craved this kind of undying love but were forced to reject and push down deep inside you.

The touch on your cheek suddenly disappears, and the Child falls backwards, just in time for you to catch his back with your other hand to keep him from falling out of your lap. Whatever he’s just shown you had taken all the force he had in his little body, because his eyes flutter shut, and almost instantly falling asleep in your arms. You don’t know how to show him that you now understand their relationship, but you wonder if on some level, he already knows. There’s clearly something that binds you and him together, something for whatever reason you’re unable to explain, but you somewhat subconsciously know this is the first time the Child has allowed anyone to know this. Gently placing him in his crib and shutting the pram, you slouch back in your seat and wonder if the Mandalorian knows just how much he means to this little gremlin.

Grogu.

--

Somehow you’ve fallen asleep. You don’t remember even closing your eyes but when they bat open, dusk has fallen on Mos Eisley. Looking over to your left haphazardly, the lack of a green baby in the pram shoots panic up and down your spine, causing you to jump to your feet immediately. Your eyesight is still hazy, but your feet are working on autopilot, searching frantically for him in the cockpit. When you see no obvious sign of him, you dash for the ladder. Taking the rungs two at a time, you all but fly down to the hull still hyped up on adrenaline, praying to the Maker that you did not lose Mando’s kid.

Once you reach the hull of the ship, you hear Peli’s voice and a series of noises from her pit droids. Descending down the side ramp, you see them gathered around a table, playing some kind of gambling game; probably sabacc. The little one is perched up on a seat at the table, ogling what the others are doing but not actually taking part in the festivities. Panic begins to subside, and a deep sigh of relief comes from you, your hand clutching your chest.

Noticing your presence, the Child coos and Peli looks up at you for a second before turning her attention back to the game in front of her. “I heard the kid fussing and when I came to check on him, you were asleep so I figured I’d take him so he doesn’t wake you up.”

“Oh, well thank you,” You didn’t know Peli was capable of being that kind, and it warms you to see such a different side to her.

Continuing to stand there awkwardly for a few seconds trying to decide what you should do next, your jaw stiffens, feeling like you’re intruding on their game. Pivoting slowly, you’re about to make for the ship again when Peli calls you over. “You still good at the game?”

Clearing your throat, you take a step towards her before responding, hands twiddling in front of you. “Uh, yeah I used to play all the time with my crew.”

She lets out a chuff of air, no doubt at the fact you said ‘crew’ as if to make fun of you, but you choose to ignore her obvious jest.

“Take a seat,” She says and then points to a chair off to the side of the hangar. You walk over to fetch it and lug it over to the table, choosing to sit down next to the Child. He peers up at you briefly before turning his big black eyes down to the game in front of you both.

“You’ll come in on the next round,” She informs you.

“Okay.”

--

“So,” Peli begins as she observes the cards in her hand. “How did you end up with Mando?”

Your hand rubs the nape of your neck absentmindedly, the other holding the cards in your hand. Your eyes are glued to the cards, but your mind focuses on something entirely different. “He had my tracking fob.”

“And he didn’t turn you in?” She says in surprise.

“Well he did, but turns out it was actually the Empire who had the hit on me so…” You answer.

“Why didn’t he just let the Imps have at you?” Curiosity is at the forefront of her voice, but there’s a hint of a sneer in the way she asks you—like she’s shocked he chose not to let the Empire do whatever they wanted to do to you.

“I don’t know,” You answer honestly, unsure of the reason yourself. He’s never actually told you why he didn’t just let the Imps take you, and you’ve been meaning to ask. It just never seemed like there was a right time to bring it up.

“Hmmm,” Peli hums.

It really was something that you wanted to know. Foolishly, you could say it was because you had developed a mutual respect for each other since your capture, but realistically, it probably came down to the fact that he hated the Empire, and didn’t want them to get what they wanted. If the latter were true, it would be hard to disguise the disappointment that would so clearly be plastered on your face whenever he’d choose to tell you. That’s part of the reason why you haven’t asked him yet. Often times, not knowing the truth has saved you from a lot of pain. This was just another one of those times. Never mind the fact that you also don’t know why you two almost fucked in an alley a couple nights ago. Just add that to the list of truths you didn’t want to know.

“Hey,” Peli’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “It’s your turn. You drawing, staying or swapping?”

Looking down at the cards in your hand and mentally adding them all up, you stand at 22. That’s almost a guaranteed win unless someone else at the table has a better hand than you do—which you doubt. It’s harder to tell what a droid’s hand might be given the fact that they…don’t have the ability to express anything facially and therefore have the best poker face in the galaxy, but you’ve been keeping count of the cards left in the deck, and you’re almost positive that you have the best hand at the table. Even Peli is starting to look nervous—her leg bounces off the ground, and you catch her furrowing her eyebrows. You have this win in the bag.

“All right, we ready to call it?” Peli asks the table. Her three droids mumble incoherently, and her eyes shift to you for a second to hear your answer. Your head dips forward in accordance and Peli offers a slight nod in approval. “Okay, you womp rats. Let’s do this.”

The droid immediately to her right shows his hand—19. Perfect, you’re one step closer to victory.

“Ha, close but not close enough!” Peli exclaims.

The next pit droid shows their hand—21. Okay, that’s a little too close to your number but it’s not good enough to beat you. It’s getting harder and harder to hide the shit-eating grin that’s slowly sneaking up on your face. Forcing your lips into a thin line, your body threatens to jump up and down in celebration.

The droid to your left shows their cards and once again, its hand isn’t as good as yours. They stand at -20 and now you’re all but shooting out of your seat with excitement.

Peli catches your attention by saying your name. You crane your neck to face her. “Your turn, smuggler.”

You can’t help but roll her eyes at her. It’s not that she’s wrong, but surely she could have thought of something more clever than that. Mouth curling up in a toothy smile, you—almost arrogantly, throw your cards on the table. “BOOM! 22, read ‘em and weep suckers!” The droids beep disappointedly, their little fists slamming down on the table, causing the cards and the miscellaneous pool in the middle to tumble around.

“Take it easy there, Spice-y…” Peli warns, her eyebrows dancing as she looks at you with her own shit-eating smile. Your face contorts in confusion as she slowly places her cards face up on the table.

“SON OF A BITCH!” You yell when you see her score.

Kriffing -23.

“‘Read ‘em and weep suckers’,” She mocks, letting out an obnoxiously loud laugh and wrapping her arms around the rewards in the middle. To be fair, it was all her parts anyway and you have no credits, so you didn’t actually lose anything—except your pride. The kid to your right laughs, his little arms waving up in down, totally unable to control his joy.

“How did—?”

“Kid, I’ve been playing this since before you were born. You don’t think I have some kind of strategy?”

“This is supposed to be a game based on luck,” Emphasizing the word luck because how in the Maker did she manage to win? You counted every card; you were so sure that you had this game in the bag.

“Guess I’m just lucky then.”

Rolling your eyes into the next galaxy and using your fists to push them off your knees to rise to your feet, you only notice then how dark it’s gotten since you woke up from your nap in the cockpit. Mando should be back by now. Eyes drifting off to the door of the hangar, he should be back any second, right? That sudden realization makes you cringe—you shouldn’t be ‘hoping’ for anything from him. You’re just…friends? Acquaintances? Making a mental note to add that to the list of things you’ll probably never know, you sigh to yourself.

“I’m gonna head out for a bit. The kid’s fine with you, right?” You ask Peli, keeping your eyes peeled to the hangar door.

“Didn’t Mando tell you to stay here?”

This time your neck cranes towards her direction, raising an eyebrow at her. “When have I ever done what someone’s told me to do?” You begin to say as your feet make for the door.

A rush of exhilaration and thrill hit you once the door closes behind you. Technically, you’re not doing anything wrong. Mando said you couldn’t go with him—he said nothing about you going off on your own, and besides the city is almost in complete darkness by now so the chances of anyone even paying any attention to you is pretty low. Even more so, you know this place like the back of your hand, and in the event that someone does identify you, it would be all too easy to zigzag your way through the streets and find your way back to the hangar without anything catching up to you. And since it’s your last night here, why shouldn’t you take one last walk around the town? After all, this was your home for many, many years so why wouldn’t you want to take one last nostalgic walk through your past? Especially if you’re trying to have the closure you didn’t allow yourself to have the last time you left Tatooine.

Not having a specific destination in mind, you let your feet guide you aimlessly through the city. Flashes of your youth appear in your mind, and you can see your younger self walking through these exact streets; sometimes with your parents, sometimes with Tye, sometimes just by yourself. As you watch yourself navigate through the roads, laughing and smiling with loved ones, you’re reminded of all the pain that’s happened to you since. Everyone you’ve ever loved is gone—dead or presumed dead. Every single person who’s brought happiness in your life, anyone who’s ever cared for you…gone.

It was right at this moment that you realize, you never had the time to mourn Tye’s death. There wasn’t time for you to process it—to accept it and move on. Instead, you had just forgotten all about it because there were too many other things to focus on, but now as you stroll through the city, the same city you and him would spend 90% of your time in, the realization that he’s gone pierces through you like dozens of vibroblades stabbing you in every corner of your body. An ache you didn’t know was stirring up inside you comes right to the surface, feeling empty and fucking alone once again.

He was your best friend.

He was the only family you had left. Tye was flawed, there’s no denying that, but he was with you right until the very last second. He tried to save your life—more times than you can count. Tye died trying to save your life and this is how you repay him? By fantasizing about the man who basically killed him? It shouldn’t be like this; you shouldn’t be with Mando. He took away the only family you had, and you’re out here wondering how mad he’ll be when he finds out you left the hangar when he told you to stay put?

But… Mando saved your life. He could have let the Imps carry you off but, he didn’t. He came back to rescue you. He told you to stay in the hangar for your own safety. Stars, he’s even out looking for some kind of lead as to why the Empire wants you.

It’s just too much. There are too many things you don’t know, too many conflicting emotions inside you, you’re unable to sift through them all and come to a logical conclusion. As you got older, it became easy to compartmentalize your feelings—locking some away and never allowing yourself the luxury of experiencing those again and for a while, it worked, but now everything’s changed. A Mandalorian came rushing into your life and has changed everything about the way you’ve been living. Nothing about you is the same anymore. The control you had is no longer there, slipping through your fingers like when rain slithers off leaves. Each drop of stability, and restriction is slipping out of your reach and there’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop it.

You’re not sure when you started heading for the cantina, but you come to your senses just as your figure slides through the door. At the top of the stairs, the cantina is overwhelmed with people from all walks of life. Now that nightfall has stumbled on the city, all cantinas will look like this one—visitors, and locals alike all crammed together, dancing, drinking and gambling. Deciding against your better judgement to find a quiet place to sit alone and drink your thoughts away, you opt to sit at the bar. To make matters even more daring, you sit at the bar with your back to the entrance of the cantina. While others might not even think twice to do that, to you it’s stirring and terrifying all at the same time.

“What can I get ya?” The droid asks, his voice box distorting from how loud he actually has to speak in order for you to hear him.

“Just give me strongest thing you got,” You shout back, making a mental note to find a way to pay them back later.

“Rough day?” A gruff voice prompts.

Straining your neck to your right, a rather good-looking man back stares back at you, elbows resting on the counter. The cantina might be dimly lit, but you can make out some of his features. Floppy, black hair tickles the tops of his eyebrows, making his blue eyes stand out against the dark contrast. A tidy beard cascades across his cheeks and jawline, and for the first time in a while, you see a smile that doesn’t immediately trigger your fight or flight response.

“Uh, yeah,” You reply as the bartender hands you a cup full of a deep red liquid. Not taking a second to think about it, you grab the cup and throw the drink back, the alcohol hitting your tastebuds makes your body shiver involuntarily, but as it makes its way down your throat, the liquid warms your insides, relaxing the tautness in your shoulders. You motion to the bartender for another drink and the kind stranger giggles.

“Must have been a hell of a rough day,”

“Any day on Tatooine is a rough day.” You jest as the droid refills your cup.

“I wouldn’t know. It’s my first time here.”

You nearly choke on your drink, completely taken aback by the statement. “Why the hell are you here, then?”

The man’s head cocks to one side, and eyebrow raising in confusion, but that smile is still plastered on his face. He really does have a kind smile.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be imposing.” You correct, worried you might have offended him in some way.

“Not at all,” He shrugs. “I had to make a delivery here. I’m heading out at first light.”

“Oh?”

“What about you? What brings you here?”

Despite the alcohol lowering your defenses, you always know to keep your answers short and vague, so as to not draw attention to yourself. “Oh I’m just passing through.”

The brunette lets out a loud laugh, an infectious one that makes you laugh in return. He shakes his head, causing his disheveled hair to brush against his brow bone. The longer you look at him, the more you can feel arousal stirring up in your stomach. He really is attractive, in an easy, non-intimidating way.

Stars, this isn’t why you wanted to go out.

“How vague of you,” He quips.

“Gotta keep them on their toes, right?”

“That I have to agree with.”

Taking the cup in your hand and holding it up in front of you, he proposes a toast. “To keeping them on their toes”. The stranger holds up his own cup and knocks it against yours, albeit a little too aggressively because some of the liquid in your cup flies out of the mug and spills onto your tunic.

“Fuck, Maker I’m so sorry—” He starts to say but your hand comes up to stop him.

“It’s fine,” You assure him. “It’s not my finest shirt anyway.”

“At least let me pay for your drinks. It’s the least I can do since I may have completely ruined your shirt.”

Nodding your head, he calls the droid over and gestures for two more drinks.

--

Three drinks later, and the alcohol is definitely getting to you, now. More so than it did back on Sorgan, given that you’ve had just a fraction of whatever this red stuff is compared to an entire bottle of spotchka. Whatever this droid gave you was some powerful stuff. You’re not completely inebriated, but you’re definitely more relaxed than you were before, the warmth of the alcohol travelling through your system and making you a lot more comfortable and laid-back. To make matter worse, the alcohol has unfortunately made this strange man a lot more attractive and the thought of him touching you is making your cunt ache.

“Look, maybe I’m misreading things, but would you want to head back to my ship?”

It’s a bad idea—like, a really bad idea. You’ve known this man for maybe half an hour and you’re definitely not in the right state of mind to be accepting his offer. Actually, the fact that you’re drunk isn’t the problem. The real problem is that you’re being hunted by the fucking Empire and you have no idea if this guy is trying to find a way to lure you to his ship or if he really is just a kind traveler. Regardless, you shouldn’t say yes.

You really fucking shouldn’t.

Because you haven’t said anything, he begins to backtrack. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I take it back.”

Before your brain can control the words spewing out of your mouth, your ears hear you say, “No, you didn’t offend me at all.” Placing a hand over his on the counter and squeezing it in reassurance, the touch sends sparks up your arm and sends it straight to the apex of your thighs. You’re definitely in the wrong state of mind right now, but you’ve gone too far to pull back now and honestly, if Mando won’t fuck you, you’ll just have to find someone else who will. “Lead the way.”

Swallowing the rest of your drink in one big guuuulp, your buddy of the night throws some credits down on the counter and thanks the bartender for the drinks and all but jumps to his feet. He links his hand with yours and begins escorting you out of the cantina.

The cool air feels amazing against your red-hot cheeks, your heart thumping in your chest full of danger, excitement, and arousal. This reminds you of your smuggling days. After a job, still feeling the aftershocks of your dicey run, you’d find someone worth your while and let them fuck you senseless in your ship. It makes you feel like you again. This is what you do—this is the routine you’ve created for yourself. This is familiar.

Giggling like a bunch of teenagers, neither of you are able to hide your eagerness. Not even after a couple blocks walk away from the cantina, he’s pushing you against the nearest wall of a quiet street, trapping you with his body. His breath reeks of alcohol, but in that sweet way that’s even more intoxicating. Your lips part, eyes staring at his own plush lips just a few inches away from you. This wouldn’t be possible with Mando. You could never look at his face; look at his lips and crush them with yours, or feel his tongue brush against yours. No, this will have to do.

A gentle hand comes up and holds your chin in place. He’s not as tall as Mando either, you barely have to strain your neck to look up at him, but this will have to do. Bringing his face close to yours, you think he’s about to kiss you, but his lips pass yours and comes right to your ear.

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispers, his hot breath touching your even hotter skin. His voice sends shivers down your spine—not the way Mando’s voice does but this will have to do.

Your hands come flying up to grab fistfuls of his hair, pulling him back just so you’re inches away from each other’s face again. It would barely take any effort to close the gap and feel his lips against yours. Closing your eyes, you wait for him to make the first move. Despite you two knowing absolutely nothing about the other, he seems to catch on to your body language quickly, because the next thing you know, he’s crushing his lips on yours.

It’s not elegant or gentle, it’s needy and desperate. His teeth clash against yours, causing you both to pull away momentarily to chuckle before dipping back to each other’s mouths—more elegantly this time.

His mouth tastes like alcohol, it fills your nostrils and tastebuds with such aggression, it’s almost attacking them. Pressing his body further into yours, you could feel the outline of his hard cock brushing your thigh, forcing out a moan through your lips. In return, he forces his tongue through your open mouth, flicking your bottom lip and meeting yours. The hand on your cheek disappears, then both of them travel down your neck, grabbing your breasts and giving them a gentle squeeze before trailing down your abdomen and settling on your waist, wrapping them around you tightly in an effort to pull you closer to him.

Your mind tries to focus on this moment, on the man touching and kissing you, but you’re unable to shake the feeling you’re being watched. Pulling away from him, your back goes rigid at the sight of the Mandalorian just a few feet away from you two. The stranger from the cantina turns his head and nearly jumps back at the sight.

“What are you doing?” The Mandalorian growls, his vocoder scratching dangerously low, making your whole body shiver in fear.

“Uh—I—uh—we were—uh—” You manage to choke out, entire physique trembling from head to toe.

His helmet turns to face the stranger you were just making out with and he all but snarls when addressing him. “I suggest you leave.”

Turning to you, his eyes wide shot in absolutely terror, you can assume this is the first time he’s ever seen a Mandalorian, let alone a seething Mandalorian. “Are y-you gon-n-na be okay?” He stutters.

“She’ll be fine.” Mando answers for you.

Unable to get rid of the lump in your throat, you offer him a nod and within seconds, the brunette is gone. You’re left alone with Mando, in a horribly lit street in Mos Eisley—just like you were a couple days ago.

“I told you to stay at the hangar.” He spits out from what you assume is gritted teeth. The helmet gives no insight as to what Mando’s expression could be but somehow the visor burning into you right now is the most frightening and the most arousing thing you can imagine.

“I just wanted some fresh air.”

“The hangar is an open space. It’s full of fresh air.”  

Noticing his hands clenched into fists at his sides and his back as stiff as a board, your little stunt has infuriated him more than you thought it would, and for some sick reason, that turns you on even more.

“Let’s go. Now.” He orders, body whipping around so fast his cape makes a loud whoosh noise as it whisks behind him.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the mental exhaustion from the day, but you’re pretty fucking tired of being bossed around by him. Despite being somewhat intoxicated and feeling your body sway, you straighten out your shoulders, cross your arms against your chest and muster as much strength as you can and say, “No.”

Mando stops in his tracks, the tip of his helmet turning ever so slowly until his head can’t turn any more. “What did you say?”

“I said no.”

Before you can fully understand what’s happening, Mando rushes towards you. At first you want to recoil from his sudden movement, but you plant yourself further into the ground, continuing to hold yourself in your stance.

“You don’t scare me.” Whether or not you’re trying to convince him or yourself that, it’s unclear, but the fact that Mando doesn’t pull away indicates that he clearly doesn’t believe you.

“I don’t?” He asks coyly as he cocks his head to the side, knowing damn well what he’s doing.

Moving into your body at a dangerously slow rate, your body mimics his as you feel yourself gradually leaning back. You’re losing balance, and if you don’t find some way to steady yourself, you’ll end up falling back on your bum. Thinking quickly, your left leg flies behind you, enabling you to get your footing in the sand and keep from falling backwards.

“Why does your body language tell me otherwise?” He’s downright taunting you right now. Mando gets off seeing you struggle under his authority.

“Because you’re pushing yourself into me!” You shriek.

“I don’t see you fighting back.”

It’s at this moment you realize, no matter how many men you meet in cantinas, no matter how many of them you spend the night with or even a moment with, no matter how drunk you get yourself in order to enjoy these one night stands, none of that will ever matter because it’ll never compare to how Mando makes you feel. No one in this kriffing galaxy will ever get your heart racing and your blood pounding like he does. No one will be able to drive you fucking crazy the way he does.

The stranger at the bar might have been able to get you wet and aching to be touched—probably not even wanting to be touched by him though. However, it’s nothing compared to the burning pit of desire that’s pooling inside you in Mando’s presence. He’s only touched you once but it wasn’t enough. Nothing will ever be enough. You want him, you fucking need him more than you would ever admit.

From the way you see it, you have two options to choose from. You can either yield to Mando’s dominance and follow him back to the Crest, feeling guilty and sorry for yourself or you can challenge him back, establish your own independence and see how far you can defy him. Given that you can be a pretty big fucking brat, you opt for the latter.

Pushing yourself forward while using your left leg and lowering your arms to your sides for extra balance, your breasts graze against his beskar cuirass while your legs shift to stand shoulder-width apart. Having to crane your neck upwards to look straight into the T of his visor, it’s somewhat uncomfortable but you’re trying to prove a point right now, so you’ll deal with the stress on your neck until the point’s been made clear.

Your chest is heaving, heartrate unbelievable fast as you stand so fucking close to each other, neither of you wanting to break the almost suffocating suspense by speaking. No, right now you’re both locked in a fight for dominance, wondering who will be the one to either pull away or close the tiny gap between your bodies. It might be the alcohol, but you’re feeling rather audacious, and you want to continue pushing him, push him passed his limits until he becomes the feral animal you know is clawing inside of him. The adrenaline rush you had kissing that kind stranger from the bar is fucking nothing compared to this. This is making your veins ignite with fire, burning through your entire core and not even the breeze can cut the heat radiating off your skin.

“Stop,” Mando says breathlessly, sounding more like a plea than an order.

“I don’t see you fighting back,” You repeat, drawling out every word so he knows you’re mocking him. The tables have flipped, you’re the one holding the power and it’s fucking invigorating. Having a Mandalorian practically beg you is sending sparks of arousal right to your throbbing cunt, resisting the urge to rub your thighs together to relieve some of the pain building up in the apex of your legs.

“You wouldn’t want to see me fight back.” Fuck, this is getting too much.

The baritone of his voice scratches low in the vocoder, sending shocks straight to your belly, while also suggesting he’s pulling back from fully allowing himself to do whatever his body hungers for. But you’re not, in fact you’re just getting started because now you know you’re affecting him, and the liquor in your bloodstream is making you a lot bolder than you normally would be.

“I don’t think you could fight back.” Obviously a lie, you know damn well he can fight back but you’re incessant need to toy with him, to continue to mock him until he absolutely loses his fucking mind is too inviting, you can’t stop yourself.

“Maker, I said stop.” Mando growls, drawing closer towards you to the point you’re leaning back again, invading your space so deliciously. Your sense of smell is engulfed with the aroma of metal and his musk, you’re practically drunk on him alone. Knowing you’ll need to choose your next words wisely; you opt for the ones you know will force him over the edge. Swallowing the gigantic lump in your throat, your gaze deepening into the eye slit of his visor, you speak low and as cunning as you can giving the current circumstance.

“Make me.”

In a swift movement, Mando’s gloved hands come up and grip your biceps, not hard enough to hurt but definitely strong enough for you to understand who’s actually in charge. He holds you tightly as he all but pushes you against the closest wall, the duracrete digging into your shoulder blades. Pressing into you, the beskar holding you in place, you feel the bulge in his pants grinding against your lower stomach. Your pussy is disgustingly wet, panties drenched as they stick to you.

Head pushed against the wall behind you, it’s difficult to properly look into the black slit of his helmet, but you try your hardest to maintain eye contact with him, to show him you’re not backing down without a proper fight…or whatever else might occur. His own chest is heaving, armour flush against your torso, locking you in this intimate moment. Wanting to touch him, one of your hands draws up from your side slowly, not entirely sure where exactly to place it. Flicking your tongue along your lower lip, and using the liquid courage that’s a mix of liquor and arousal, you push your palm between your bodies and grab hold of the growing erection in his pants. The noise that Mando makes is guttural, one of his hands letting go of your bicep to punch into the wall behind you.

“Fuck,” He moans, the helmet coming passed your head to press into the duracrete structure. The very end of the helmet scratches the crook of your neck, and you lean into it, feeling the beskar bring coolness to your hot cheek. Your hand continues to grope him, gently rubbing against his pants causing friction and feeling his cock twitch in your palm.

“We h-have to get back to t-t-the ship,” Mando pleads, still rough and low as he seems to be getting angrier with himself because he’s unable to pull away, and his body moves closer into yours, pushing you hard against the rough surface behind you while his beskar is flush on your chest, making it hard to breathe and difficult for you to continue teasing him. Quick, short breaths are coming consistently through the vocoder, your pussy gushing hearing his sweet groans.

Your right hand fumbles its way to his belt, both hands now frantically trying to undo the zipper of his pants. The helmet dips down, resting it on your shoulder as he watches one of your hands disappear into his trousers, and play with the waistband, toying with him. The scorching heat between your thighs is becoming too much, your cunt throbbing uncontrollably, begging to alleviate some of the tension but right now, this is about Mando. This is for Mando.

When you feel confident enough that he’s fully under your control, your hand pushes through the waistband and cups his erection. Mando curses under his breath, grinding himself against your hold in a feeble attempt to please himself. Maker, his cock is big—you don’t even have to look at it to feel it’s the biggest one you’ve ever felt. If you thought you were turned on before, this new information sends ripples through your entire body, your mouth watering, desperately wanting to taste him. With the little room you have to move, you begin lowering yourself down to the ground, and drop to your knees. The sand cuts into your pants, it’s somewhat uncomfortable, but you push through the discomfort because you’re about to put his cock in your mouth and drive him fucking crazy.

The street is barely lit, which unfortunately means you can barely see what’s in front of you, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing right now matters other than making him feel as good as he made you feel a couple nights ago. You want to show him what he’s been missing, what he’s been denying himself. Lowering his trousers just enough to spring his cock free, it bounces just inches from your lips. Heat continuously building in your belly, you adjust your hand to hold him at the base, and admire him. Your head bobs forward, tongue coming out to lick the precome forming at the tip of his length. A big hand comes down firmly on your shoulder, steadying himself as he continues to curse into the helmet.

“F-fuck, that feels good.”

Letting out a deep breath through your nostrils to calm your nerves and swallowing the lump in your throat, your jaw slacks as much as it can and you take him in your mouth, surrounding him with your warmth. Mando nearly convulses on the spot, feeling his hips buck, pushing more of himself into your mouth. Stars, you’ve never had a dick this big in your mouth and you’re worried you might not be able to take all of him, but you push through it, inching himself more and more passed your lips until you feel him reach the back of your throat. Your body shakes, fighting your gag reflex as he sits there on your tongue, hands bracing themselves on his hips, so you have more control.

“Look at you, taking my whole cock in your mouth. S-such a good girl.”

Mando’s praises practically make you swoon, and once you feel relaxed enough, you ease him out of your mouth and begin bobbing your head up and down the length of his girth, obscene and filthy sounds echoing through the street. You develop a rhythm, bobbing your neck down his cock a few times and then taking him as far as he’ll go, now no longer worried about gagging as you basically fucking choke on him. Tears are forming in the corners of your eyes, but you don’t stop, you can’t fucking stop because the whimpers coming from Mando are enough to push you over the edge. He grits out admirations like a prayer, the grip on your shoulder so tight it almost hurts, but you’re too entranced at the moment to give a shit about the bruise that’s no doubt forming on your skin.

His cock continues to slide in and out between your lips, feeling every curve, every vein, every fucking inch of him down to the pubic hair that tickles your nose when he rests fully inside your mouth. The tension in your pussy is excruciating, needing some kind of friction to alleviate some of the pressure, so one of the hands on his hips disappear and flies into your own pants, passed your undies, starting to rub tight circles around your clit. The immediate touch down your pants causes you to moan, sending vibrations along the Mandalorian’s length between your lips.

“Stars, you’re so good at this. How do you make it feel so fucking good?” He whispers breathlessly, now fully fucking himself into your mouth. Tears stream down your face at a consistent rate, but everything feels too good to stop. It’s overstimulating, it’s overwhelming but in the best fucking way possible. You on your knees, while Mando grinds his hips more aggressively into you. Feeling your own orgasm slowly building, you wrap your lips around Mando tighter, hallowing your cheeks as you draw him in at a quicker pace.

“Shit, you’re g-gonna ma-ake me c-c-ome,”

Rather than say something, you bob your head even faster, spit dribbling down your lips as you continue to take his cock deep in your mouth, swallowing a mixture of saliva and precome and groaning loudly. Mando recites a series of curses and praises as you feel his body tensing while he gets closer to his own orgasm. The fingers on your clit become erratic, no longer having the same rhythm because you’re too focused on getting Mando to come in your mouth to focus on pleasuring yourself properly.

“Oh—shit, fuck, fuck yes, j-just like t-that. You want me to c-c-come in your pr-r-retty little mouth?” He taunts, chest heaving unlike you’ve ever seen before. The power trip you’re on right now is amazing, and Maker you want him to see you as he comes. Through hooded lids, you peer up at him, the faint shape of his helmet beaming off the moons of Tatooine. You don’t see his eyes but it doesn’t matter, you know he’s looking down at you in awe. It’s a struggle to continue to please him while trying to maintain eye contact with him but you refuse to peel your eyes away from the visor. You want him to see you with your mouth full of his come, you want him to see you suck every bit of his seed out of him, and watch you swallow it like a champ.

Mando’s cock twitches in your mouth and stiffens for a moment, and then he’s coming, really fucking hard and for a second you wonder if you’ll even be able to swallow all of it. As he comes, you hollow your cheeks even more, sucking every last drop of his seed and swallowing it, and then your own orgasm creeps up on you and then smashes into you. It fucking rips you apart from the inside out, white-hot pleasure exploding from every nerve ending, and you cry out with his cock still in your mouth, causing some of his come to trickle down from the corners of your lips.

Once he’s finally done coming, his hand leaves your shoulder to tuck himself back in his pants before hooking both hands under your shoulders to lift you up to eye level. Your breathing is erratic, and your knees burn from the friction of the sand rubbing against the material of your pants. Head lulling back to lean along the wall behind you, your eyes flutter open, completely exhausted. Using one of his fingers, Mando wipes the come dripping down your lips and before he can do anything else, using the very limited strength you have, your hand clasps down on his wrist, taking it into your mouth and sucking whatever seed is on his finger, tasting him and leather in your mouth.

“Stars…” Mando remarks in absolute admiration. The corners of your lips curl into a sheepish smile, the weight of the fatigue fully taking you over. Your head dips in front of you, and rests on Mando’s chest, the instant cooling relief of beskar on your forehead.

“We have to get back to the ship.” He repeats, his baritone gentle but still low and raspy.

“Mmm…” You mumble back, unable to find the words.

“You’ll have to walk back, is that okay? The Crest isn’t far away.”

Head lifting up enough to nod, Mando takes a step back so you can get your bearings. The alcohol and the post-orgasm high make you woozy, but you force yourself to be somewhat conscious, blinking rapidly and rolling your shoulders back in an effort to show him you’ll be all right enough to head back to the hangar. “Lead the way, sir.”

A drawn-out breath emits from the helmet, and he tilts his head to the side like he wants to push you up against the wall once again but ultimately decides not to and turns on his heel to make way for the ship. Your feet are working slower than your brain, because it takes a couple of seconds for them to register that you want to walk. At first they buckle, probably because you’ve been on your knees for the last however many minutes, but eventually you’re able to trail behind him wearily as you both walk in silence to the hangar. Unlike you, there’s absolutely no hint that Mando just got his dick sucked in public. You on the other hand, are slouching when you walk, feeling the uncomfortable stickiness between your legs from your orgasm becoming more and more awful the longer you move.

When the hangar door comes into view, there’simmediate relief that swoons you. You want to rest, want to relax as there’s a slight headache now prodding at you—definitely a result from the night’s events. Peli sits around a makeshift fire, her droids also gathered around, no green baby in sight.

“Ah he found you!” She exclaims, gesticulating in your direction before rising to her feet to join you and Mando. “The little one’s inside the ship, by the way.”

“Thank you, Peli.”

“Anytime, Mando. You know I like having you and the kid around.” She admits, a genuine smile appearing on her face. She looks over at you and it’s impossible to hide the shock smeared on her expression.

“Kriff, what the hell happened to you?”

“Sorry?” You ask, brows pulling tightly together.

“You look like hell, that’s what.” She says, quite unfiltered.

Your eyes peer down at the ground, fingers interlacing together, not being able to come up with a good, fake reason as to why you look like a mess. Her gaze jumps between you and Mando, and you think she’s mentally putting the image together in her brain before Mando speaks.

“We should get going. Don’t want to stay longer than we need to.”

This snaps Peli out of her thoughts, nodding as she agrees with the Mandalorian.

“Sure thing. Uh, travel safe you three.”

Mando’s helmet dips forward, before heading up the side ramp of the ship. You stand there for a few more seconds, wanting to give Peli a proper good-bye, but not knowing how to go about that. Your arm comes up behind you to rub the back of your neck, jaw slacking and opening your mouth to say something—to say what, you’re still unsure of.

“Well, I have to admit, it was nice seeing you again kid.” She says sincerely, and for the seconds time today, you see a glimpse of warmth and tenderness in her you’ve never seen before. She isn’t this cold-hearted, confrontational woman you had conjured up in your mind. She’s gentle in her own way. Kind. Sympathetic. It warms you and also saddens you. This is a side of her you could have seen all these years ago, had you allowed yourself and her the opportunity. Instead, you had this pre-conceived idea of who she was, and didn’t allow either of you to have a different perspective of each other. It’s only now that you may never see each other again that you realize how alike you two are.

“Yeah, it was nice seeing you too, Peli.”

“Take care of each other,” She leans over and places a gentle hand on your forearm. Looking down to where her hand touches you, you feel a surge of emotions. Not just your own, but hers as well. Regret. Pain. Resolve. Hope. All of these subconscious emotions filling you up, making your head spin.

Turning your body, you head up the ramp to the ship’s hull. Peeping over to the fresher, you really should sanisteam, but the fatigue is too intense. You really just want to sleep in that shitty chair in the cockpit and deal with all your responsibilities when you wake up.

Taking to the ladder is a bit of struggle. You have no strength left, and but are forced to conjure some up just to make it to the top. When you see the floor at the top, you grab onto it and hoist yourself to the top, landing on your knees. For a moment, you actually consider just crawling over to the chair, but that seems a little…excessive, therefore you force yourself to your feet and drag them along the ground as you finally reach the chair. Collapsing into it immediately, this chair has never felt more comfortable in your life and the moan you let out once you feel yourself relaxing in it is downright obscene, but you don’t care. Instantly regretting every time you’ve complained about this chair, because right now it’s your saving grace. You’ll never leave this clump of leather; you swear it to the Maker.

“Where’re we headed, now?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you ask Mando who sits in the pilot’s chair, flicking switches and hearing the Crest’s thrusters come to life.

“Corvus.”

“Mmm? What’s on Corvus?”

“A Jedi.”

A Jedi? You’ve never had the opportunity of meeting a Jedi, but you’ve heard stories—good and bad ones. How they’re to blame for starting the Clone Wars. How they destroyed the Empire and freed the galaxy from tyranny.

You want to ask why you’re heading to meet a Jedi, but you succumb to sleep before you can ask him, the taste of the Mandalorian still lingering on your tongue.

taglist: @1800-fight-me​, @tillytheslytherin​, @ayamenimthiriel​ 💞💞

[vidalinav]

Nessian Headcanon #12: Family Edition

Since I keep seeing baby headcanons I wanted to make a list of my own :D which I’ve briefly touched on in other posts but...

Cassian and Nesta have a boatload of children (5 at the end of it all I think). The others start joking that they’re building their own army. But what really happens is that they end up taking in many children over the years because they travel often with the work they do and they see so many conditions and there’s wars and all sorts of circumstances. It’s inevitable that kids don’t have homes but they have a giant house and unending resources and the House is like a big nanny itself so they think it’s fate. 

Nesta is actually the one who brings most of the children home. The first one is a 9 year old girl, who is the angriest kid alive. Has something to do with the plot of a story I’m writing, but Nesta is basically entrusted with this kid. She’s the grand niece of someone she ends up knowing and she’s pretty magically powerful so her family would have ate her alive, so she’s asked to keep her safe and whatnot. Her name is Magda but she goes by Maggie. She does not like Cassian whatsoever in the beginning, and she is horribly rude to Nesta. But Nesta does not care at all, she’s like okay get it out, say worse. Like she’s so chill, because she knows how it feels to be that angry. Maggie and Nesta end up being really close to the point where Maggie does not like being away from Nesta and gets very protective of her even to other members of the IC. She’ll fight first and ask questions later. Cassian and her form a bond actually not by fighting at all, but because Maggie does so many experiments that end up going awry. She’s a fae and has got magic up the wazoo and she’s a book nerd, and she’s kind of a trouble maker, and Cassian thrives. He loves her because she’s like a smaller more diabolical version of Nesta. The House is amused by their antics usually. 

Nesta ends up getting pregnant for their second child and this kid is the only one they actually have on their own. Her name is Lyra, and Maggie thinks that it’s hilarious that Cassian lives in a house with all girls. Maggie is about 12 when they have her, and Maggie at first does not take kindly to Lyra, because she starts feeling like they have their own family and she’s just the kid who eventually is going to have to go back to her other family (because that’s a plot too that I won’t go into to) but they try so much to include her, because Maggie is their child. No question. Nesta ends up telling Cassian that she’s pregnant by giving him an enchanted painting, which is the work of all three Archeron sisters. Elain for seeing what the child would look like, Feyre for painting, and Nesta for enchanting it so that if they have more children the picture will get bigger and there will be room for Feyre to paint the others. So one big family portrait. In that picture, Maggie is tucked in between the two with the baby/toddler. Dark hair, big blue eyes... maybe hazel. Maybe one of each (I’m really not sure). The best parts of both Nesta and Cassian though. She’s so gorgeous. Prettiest little girl. But yeah going back to Maggie, they ask her during this picture time (probably solstice present time) if Maggie wants to be an Archeron. (Another headcanon for another time, but Cassian marries Nesta too and becomes an Acheron). So, does she want to do this? Absolutely, and at this point she already start calling them mom and dad and just referring to them as such, so that’s their kiddos. 

Third and fourth are siblings. They’re from the continent. Maggie is 14, Lyra is close to 2. The siblings are brought by Nesta who is doing some thing that I cannot say because I have not made it up yet, but she finds them at the scene of a Massacre in hiding. The oldest is close to 6, the other is probably 1-ish. The oldest will not let them take the baby from her. The baby is a boy. They don’t speak the common tongue, which is any issue, but they hire a tutor to both talk to the little girl and then also to teach them ALL (everyone in their household) the language that the two siblings speak as well as teach them how to speak the common Prythrian language. So everyone ends up learning. The little girl is taken under the wing of Maggie, who is the perfect older sister/camp counselor as she likes to refer to herself after there’s more kids. They don’t know her name for the LONGEST time, because she won’t speak at all, but she ends up loving Cassian because he makes her laugh and he brings her a thousand stuffed bears because at one point she won’t stop crying and he brings them home and makes funny voices with them, and carries her on his shoulders, and she has the sweetest giggle. But eventually they end up naming her Ursella which she ends up going by Ella when she gets older, because her nickname with Cassian is little bear. They do ask her later when she talks if she remembers her old name and her birthday since they don’t know, but she doesn’t say that she does, which may be a lie, but Ella happily goes by Ella, and they give her a choice to choose one random day in the year to be her birthday, but she chooses to celebrate her birthday on the day they brought her in. She calls it her re-birthday.

The baby boy they name Nico. It’s actually a common Illyrian name and Cassian knows that the little boy is technically not Illyrian but it is his first son, and he really wants to give him that piece of him. Cassian does ask him when he’s about 10 if he’d prefer a name that’s based on his own culture, because they make sure that’s very integrated in their home life, because of course Cassian loves his culture and Nesta has that anthropological eye, so she knows and learns so much and they just love their children so much that they want all of them, every piece that they come with. But Nico likes his name, and he’s his dads through and through. But he LOVES Nesta. He’s a momma’s boy for sure, which I guess just makes him similar to Cassian. He does not like learning though, so Nesta usually has to teach him herself instead of having tutors, and she spends extra time with him going through his lessons. Lyra and him grow up together closer to age, so they pick on each other A LOT, but ultimately they grow up to have that relationship like I can pick on you but no one else can. They’re super close. If you want one, you find the other. They both will be together somewhere making a mess of things. Ella is the one who usually is like would you please be loud somewhere else. She ends up getting into music--playing instruments and so she generally prefers quietness to study and practice. Violin is her forte. 

The next boy comes about 4 yrs later. Maggie is 18, Lyra is 6, Nico is 5/6 ish. Ella is 10. The boy is about 12. He’s Illyrian and Cassian finds him this time and takes him to Nesta first, but Nesta is like why are you asking lol this is our new son. He’s a “bastard” unfortunately. I hate that word. But he has learned to fight, Cassian found him in the fighting pits in an Illyrian camp a couple hours away from Windhaven, and the situation was so much like his except this kid was never given a home like he was. So, he spent a good couple of weeks trying to get on his good side enough for him to trust him and to want to go someplace safer and warm. He hates Cassian a lot at first... while at the same time being like you’re the hero I’ve heard about. So admiration but also a touch of resentment and anger at the world. Cassian doesn’t know what to do with that, because still to the day he does not handle emotion like Nesta does. He understands it but he doesn’t know what to say, what to do, his go to is always training, but training is not what this child needs. So again, this is Nesta’s forte. Interestingly enough, she’s very gentle with kids. She’s empathetic, soft, but not condescending. She gives everyone the same respect so it helps a lot when he sees that and he’s never had a mom before who tucks him in or makes sure he’s feeling well. His name is Julian. I forgot that part and it turns out he’s HATES fighting. But he really likes plants. So he ends up spending a lot of time with Elain when she visits. He’s fascinated by them and ends up having his own garden. But because Nesta is magical in this headcanon (because she’s more witchy in my fics) he learns A LOT about poisons. Not because Nesta teaches him, but because he finds her books and reads them and starts growing them. This becomes a problem, because when Julian doesn’t like his tutors or teachers, he starts trying to poison them. Like not killing them, but he knows which will give stomach aches, which will give rashes. Nesta is both proud and reprimanding. 

I do feel like they might have more, but I don’t know for now I feel this is good for their set family. Five in total for their first gaggle of children lol. But all of them are asked if they want to be an Archeron. All of them say yes. All of them have each other’s back even if they have screaming matches on the daily. The house is mostly chaotic at all times but the House loves having people in it and laughing and being filled to the brim with stuffed animals and train sets and plants and music and family members coming in and out since Nyx visits often because he’s an only child for a very long time with Feyre taking more of a position in court rulings and Rhysand just being generally busy because you know High Lord/High Lady stuff. I don’t see Feyre being a stay at home mom but I also don’t see Rhys being a stay at home dad, but they’re also rulers so I peg them for both being working parents, which they feel guilty about A LOT at first, and it’s something that they struggle with in the confines of their own identities and their relationship, because they love Nyx and they know they’re parents but that’s not all they are, and without having the gender role of one parent staying home it’s very difficult for them to both rule, but Rhys does not want to stop being a high lord and Feyre is bored too often and she wants to rule and she knows she can, and she has that title for a reason and wants to utilize it. So it’s a hard time, with lots of arguments, but Nyx ends up mostly going with Cassian for a good amount of the day when he’s older and they have more kids in the house, and Nyx doesn’t really know that Feyre and Rhys had this problem, because he’d just prefer to be around the other kids and it ends up working really well. 

Cassian ends up being more of the stay at home parent. I don’t know why but I feel he just gives me that vibe where forget the courtier business, if there’s no war and if the armies are generally taken care of which he does, he wants to stay home and raise his kids, which is very surprising since he’s the one who doesn’t ever take vacations. He wants to be there for every moment no matter how awkward or loud. That’s his family and he’s waited so long for them, and it’s not even about him not having that family early on, it’s because he genuinely would rather be with his kids. He’s the one who as soon as they got the siblings was like I’m going to have to take a step back, because he saw his kids every day but he just didn’t want to be away for long periods of time, and at that point he’d already taken several steps back on working, so it became more of a done deal then. He still is the general, but he gives more responsibility to Devlon and to other people he’s trained over the years to step up. So generally, Cassian will work a couple of days a week for a couple of hours or just go quickly in the evenings, go over reports if the kids are in class with their teachers, and more during certain times of the year, but he’s generally more of a family man. 

Nesta in my fic/headcanon ends up being a queen as well as a leader of the witches and the founder/leader of the Valkyrie and she owns a shipping company and she’s the cauldron’s guardian which don’t ask me to explain, it’s in this fic I’ve barely written. But she’s a “I can bake the cake and eat it too” type of person to me, and because of her magic it is easy for her to do it all because it’s like a full time job. She goes home after a certain hour and she’s back with her kiddos, and most of her jobs have other people who have a handle on things as well. So she’s not an island, but she loves having the purpose and the drive, because as much as she did like being in the library and being in Velaris and having that day to day slice of life, she likes and yearns for adventure. She’s a go-getter and is not necessarily ambitious for power, but she’s got the whole world to discover and she can have anything she’s willing to work for. She wants to be and see it all. Cassian is endlessly proud of her and is like that’s my mate, my wife. My mate. My wife. And they both end up getting what they want without having to sacrifice their own ideals. Their marriage is a collaboration and it ends up working phenomenally for the two of them and their children. 

But ultimately it’s really the House that makes it possible. Because who cooks food and cleans and supplies every need and wish and whatnot? The House. Who baby proofs? The House. The House is like I’ve always wanted a big family and boy does it get a big family. 

[tardytothepardy]

Fruits Basket - Vol 23

It's the final banquet babyyyy

(i hate how blurry that picture is but my camera just wouldn't fucking focus)(also yeah i colored in the speech bubbles, they were kinda confusing without context and didn't have anything to do with this specific frame)

So everyone's gathered in the main Sohma house, and no one really knows what's going on. They have no idea what to expect. Hiro notes that the grown-ups are "the ones who can't sit still today". Some miscellaneous stuff happens but I'm not sure if it's worth talking about? After the miscellaneous stuff, it is announced that Akito is ready for everyone to see, and out she steps in a kimono (I bet it's red; she'd look great in red, I think) and asks where Shigure is, because he apparently dipped out. Ritsu is in complete awe, does Akito partake in the same hobby he does? No, Ritsu, this is who she is.

There's a brief flashback to the previous book, where Shigure gave her something, and said "I guess you could call it a farewell present." Akito did not take kindly to that at all, and lashed out, accusing him of being the first to abandon her. He asks where she got that idea, he meant that she's finally becoming her own person, rather than the person her father wanted her to be, and his gift was something to commemorate that. Welcome in the new Akito, and all that.

Back to the present, Akito explains that the rest of the Juunishi were able to become their true selves, beyond the curse, and so she decided to as well. She tries to apologize, but she can't-- she knows that won't make up for anything that she did, at all.

It goes back to that memory with Shigure (this chapter is just a series of flashbacks and flashpresents) and he teases her, saying that he didn't know he was so important to her, and Akito insists that wasn't the case, that he was the one that she was most afraid of, the one that strayed the furtherest from her, bond or not. He says he had to keep his cool, be nonchalant, because otherwise he'd explode (ka-blooey). He says that he's childish, and doesn't like getting hurt, he hates losing, and he can't stand sharing things. This causes Akito to basically go Ó///Ò in realization, and he confirms that realization (the realization being that he likes her as well, in case you didn't catch it. It kinda took me a second on first reading, and I'm not exactly explaining this the best), and says that if Akito wants to reject him, now's the time, that if she comes to him again, it'll become a Thing. They'll become a Thing.

Back to the meeting, Akito says that she still wants to live with the Sohma family, because there are still things she feels she needs to do. She still is, at the end of the day, the head of the family, it's her duty (probably). She plans on talking to Ren, which I imagine will go well. After the meeting (I think, I don't think it's before, though timey wimey stuff is difficult), Akito is with Shigure, and he's asking if she wants him to stay at the main Sohma house, and she asks if he's angry about it. The vibe I get from him is "yesn't", honestly, but hey if they're happy, I guess it's fine.

Next chapter!

So there are two exposition characters (I'm sorry but that's really all they are) at school, and one of them sees Kyo. She gets excited, maybe she can go talk to him, and the other thinks he's waiting for Tohru, his girlfriend, to finish up with her tests. The first girl goes, "Whaaa?? When did that happen??", and the second says that it happened shortly after Tohru came back from the hospital. The first girl's hopes and dreams are apparently destroyed, I guess she liked Kyo.

It pans back to Tohru, now finished with her test, and the teacher, Mayu, wishing her a good summer vacation, it'll be her last. She also asks if something happened in the Sohma family, because a certain He seemed a little happier when she saw him yesterday. Tohru took "he" to mean Kyo and Yuki, and was basically like "yeah I guess so". Mayu played it off, yeah yeah those two that's definitely who she meant yeah totally see you next school term byeeee.

At the house (Shigure's house), Kyo, Yuki, and Tohru are talking about the meeting, and how it felt like it came out of nowhere. They were surprised that Tohru already knew about Akito, but she had to pretend she didn't for Akito's privacy (you don't just out people, that's rude). She asks if it was that much of a shock, and Yuki says he's mostly dumbfounded, though there has been a lot going on lately, a lot to think about. Kyo says he feels weird about it, simply because now he knows he's been violent with a woman all this time, but also says something about if Akito was a man, Kyo would be in trouble if there was another guy who liked Tohru. I'm not really sure where he got that idea, but Yuki thought it was pretty funny. It made Tohru realize that the air between Kyo and Yuki had cooled off significantly, and they seemed to be more at ease with each other than they ever had before (i mean in the beginning yuki would sneeze and kyo would be like "and i took that personally", so yeah they've changed a lot). She asked Kyo what had caused that change, and he told her that Yuki beat the crap out of him, and knocked some screws loose, but it was okay. They needed to be loosened.

Later, it seems that Kyo and Tohru went to Kazuma's house, where Kazuma said "I have no regrets. At this point, I'm prepared for death at any time.", because he's happy, y'know? But Tohru and (that other guy whose name completely escapes me wtf) protest at that, saying that you can't say things like that, it's not true! The other whispers to Kazuma that he can't die yet, because when they get married and have kids, he'll be a grandparent, which he seems to like the idea of. He tells Tohru that he eagerly awaits that time, but since Tohru didn't overhear it, she just awkwardly agrees that she also can't wait. (Kyo kinda caught on though)

Izusu comes in, says, "This is stupid, by the way", then walks out before anyone can respond. Tohru follows after her, and Kyo asks what Izusu was saying. Kazuma says that a lot has happened recently, and not everyone is going through the same thing.

Going with Tohru, she finds Izusu in another room, saying that she doesn't get it, how can he (Kyo, presumably) act like nothing's wrong, after all that's happened, and how Tohru can do the same, after she got so hurt?! Those kinds of hurt don't go away easily. Izusu continues, and says that if she had to choose to forgive Akito or not, she wouldn't, because she can't. She doesn't want Akito to apologize, and she can't help but feel like she's doing something wrong, because she can't make herself accept everything and move on. Tohru reassures her that there's nothing wrong with her, she didn't do anything wrong. Izusu wonders if her demeanor will turn Haru away, if it will disappoint him. Tohru says that there's no way that Haru could hate her.

The scene changes to Akito, who is talking to that one old lady who pops up every now and then, but I've never seen her name, who says that Akito went to see Ren again, but heard that she wasn't able to really talk to her. She says it would be faster to chase her out of the house, but it's also possible that Akito complicated things by staying at the house. She continues, saying how it must be nice being young, and being able to change your life so easily. She notes that she was born with the Sohma family, and raised with them, and has lived at the house for sixty years, she couldn't change her life now. Akito says that no one can change every thing, and no one would be asking her to. Maybe all she needs is a helping hand. In the end, the maid simply walks away, but y'know, not everyone wants to change, or feels like they can, it's fine.

In the next chapter, it seems like it's the date with Tohru and Kyo that Uotani and Hanajima decided to tag along with. Kyo is thinking back to that moment when he tore off his bracelet, and how afterward, Tohru picked up all the beads. She put them in a little bowl in her room, next to the picture of her mom. In the moment, he could only watch as she did it, and in all honesty he wouldn't have minded if she had tossed them into a fire, but it also occurred to him that he might regret not having them. As he watched Tohru pick up the beads, he thought of it like she was "protecting both the me of now and the me of the future". Alternatively, and this one is a bit spoopy, she was gathering the memories of the people over the (many, many, many) years that had worn that bracelet. Either way, he realized that loving someone isn't just about loving the person as they currently are, but as they were, and as they will be.

That's what he thinks anyway.

I mentioned the date but I didn't talk about it at all. They went to a zoo, Uotani got excited about seeing elephants, and they went to a place with cats, and the cats did not care either way about Kyo. It was neat. By the end of the day, Tohru went off to use the bathroom, leaving Kyo with Hanajima and Uotani. This is when Hanajima asks Kyo if he's going to take Tohru away with him. She knew the time would come, eventually, when she, Uotani, and Tohru, would part ways, but it still hurts to think about. Uotani says that, despite how they might act, they do like Kyo, even if they think he's a bit of a dumbass (Uotani's words, btw), and it's because they both think he's a good guy. He just has to take care of Tohru, because she's like family to them, so he'd best not fuck up.

When Tohru comes back, Kyo says there's a place that he wants to take Tohru before going home. Can we go see what Yuki's up to first? Okay yeah we're going to do that now, we'll get back to Tohru and Kyo, don't worry.

So Yuki's at Kakeru's place, and it seems that they're talking about their college plans. Apparently Yuki's going to a college pretty far away from where they're currently at, but if they have subjects that he's interested in, it's fine. (I don't think it's ever said what exactly those subjects are. Like, what's his major? Do I really care? Eh. But it's still nice to know. Same thing for Kakeru, what is he doing?) When Yuki says he'll be living on his own, Kakeru asks if he can manage, he doesn't want to go for a visit and see an emaciated Yuki (living on like,, partially-cooked instant ramen noodles, and several scattered half-empty water bottles in a nest of laundry and schoolwork). Yuki is more optimistic, saying he's going to learn by doing (so that means those cups of instant ramen will be completely cooked). Apparently he told Machi about it and she's fine with it, though she would not be fine if she heard Kakeru saying that anyone is "climbing the stairway to adulthood" which honestly I wouldn't be fine with that either, that just sounds stupid.

Komaki asks how Yuki's going to get the money to live somewhere, and Yuki says that he considered asking his parents, but in the end he asked Ayame to help. Ayame was overjoyed to help, and went nuts to find a place that would suit Yuki's needs (Or be the foundation of his "empire", as he phrased it).

When asked about college, Kakeru said he'd go, not because he really wants to, but mostly because people keep telling him to. He was planning on taking over Komaki's family business (they run a laundry service), but he supposes he'll go anyway.

Later, Machi shows up with a package of meat, which Komaki was very excited about. Kakeru trotted out his "stairway to adulthood" line on Machi, and Machi punched him in the face along with the meat, she somehow balanced the meat on her fist to smash into Kakeru's face, much to Komaki's distress (over the meat, not Kakeru).

Anyway, let's go back to Tohru and Kyo.

Kyo took Tohru to the graveyard, and they're standing at the Honda's family tombstone(memorial? thingie? idk), and he says that after he graduates, he wants to leave, because he's spent his whole life up until pretty recently avoiding life, and not letting himself get involved in things. But now that he's a normal person, he wants to live in the world as a normal person, with Tohru, and because of all of this, he wants to go outside of this place that he's been his whole life. Tohru asks where he's planning to go, and he says that Kazuma knows someone with a dojo, but it's really far from where they presently live. He says he's planning on going there first, attending the dojo while he works, and then one day, he'll inherit Kazuma's dojo, using the experience from the first dojo. He hesitates on asking Tohru to break away from everything and everyone she's known to go off with him, but Tohru agrees, and says she wants to go with him, as soon as possible.

There is one thing that Tohru wants to tell Kyo, and it's that she's sure that her mom never hated him. Even if she did say that she would never forgive him, Tohru is confident that she didn't say it out of hate, she knows it. She will go along with Kyo, even if it hurts to leave everyone else, because it would hurt her more to be apart from him (🥺). To end this section, Kyo says that he'll keep the promise he made to Kyoko about Tohru, all that while back, and he'll keep it for his whole life.

(don't mind me i'm just screeching and wheezing simultaneously this shit is too much i'm gonna die)

Onto the next section, it actually has to do with Kyoko and Katsuya. Mostly Kyoko, and her last thoughts before she died. At first, it was weird. What's going on? She can't hear anything, she doesn't even really hurt. Why is it so dark? Oh crap, Tohru! She can't leave yet, she doesn't want to leave Tohru alone, she only just got into high school. She hopes that she loved her enough, and that Tohru knew that, though she wished she could have had more time to love Tohru. She finally understands, though, that leaving people behind and being left behind, they're both so hard. She hopes that someone can be there for Tohru, to protect her, stay with her as she cries.

She then sees Kyo, and recognizes him as the little orange-haired kiddo she used to talk to sometimes, and hopes that even if he forgets about her, that the next time Tohru gets lost, Kyoko wants him to find her, even just once. If he doesn't do that, she'll never forgive him(that's what she meant, out of what he heard, by the way). She hopes that he can somehow take her place, and protect Tohru, and let her be happy, let her be loved by lots of people. Even if she gets lost or makes a mistake, Kyoko wants Tohru to be proud of the life she lived.

Then she wakes up in a place. I don't really know what the place looks like, but I imagine it as a light blue shimmery place, and she can see someone walking towards her, from a distance. Katsuya. Suddenly she's young again, with her long hair and uniform, and she can be with the man she loves again. (🥺😭 dissolves in my tears)

There's a time skip, now Tohru, Yuki, Kyo, Hanajima, and Uotani have graduated, and it soon after shows Tohru and Kyo cleaning up their rooms, and reminiscing about when Tohru first arrived. A lot has changed in that time, it's incredible. Tohru thinks on how she will miss everyone, and all the things that have happened (in the span of a year, right? This all mostly happened within a year or two?). Kyo then says that everyone loves and appreciates her, and it's not like she'll never see any of them again, it's just the start of something new. Then Tohru's stomach grumbles and she gets embarrassed (oh no im hungry how embarrassing 😖)

We then jump to Yuki and Machi, and Yuki gives Machi a key to his new place, because he doesn't want her to think that he's cheating on her (why would she think that???) and then nearly fuckin yeets it out the window when she says that she's not worried that he'd do that. (So he does want her to have trust issues? Yuki, dude, you're confusing me on this) I think that Machi is a year behind Yuki, so she won't be starting college the same time as he will, but she promises that she'll follow after him and be back with him as soon as she can, which is very sweet.

This whole section is mostly jumping from one group of people to the next, so I think I'll try to summarize:

Ritsu and Kagura are talking, it seems that Ritsu is giving Kagura his old kimonos. He's cut his hair shorter, and he mentions how Shigure apparently has quit being an author, much to the relief of his editor, Mitsuru. Kagura asks if Ritsu is going to marry Mitsuru, which leaves him very flustered. Kagura still is hung up on Kyo, and says that she'll see Kyo and Tohru go just to see Kyo. She won't well wish them, because she knows that they'll be happy regardless.

Hiro and Kisa are walking past Shigure's old house, speculating on what is going to happen to it. Hiro says he thinks it will stay as it is for a while, which makes Kisa happy. She hopes that it can stay up and that a new household can live in it. She then starts crying, thinking about Kyo and Tohru leaving, but she says that she will smile when she sees them go, on the next day. Hiro tells her to not be upset over crying, that she can cry as much as she wants, because he knows how much Tohru means to Kisa.

Haru, Izusu, and Momiji are talking, and Haru mentions how Hatori said that eventually, Shigure's gonna get punched in the face, but he never did. Momiji says that it didn't happen because they are all more mature than Shigure. He says as an aside that he doesn't think it should be allowed that Kyo is "taking away" Tohru, because he's being selfish, and that he wants to pinch Kyo. Haru asks why he shouldn't do it tomorrow, and Momiji says that he can't do it in front of Tohru, but this whole thing has given Momiji a new sense of motivation, to find the best girlfriend in the world, and then he'll show her off to Kyo (not the best motivation to find a partner but okay). Izusu pops up by saying that she thinks Tohru should break up with Kyo. I'm not sure why though.

It's shown that Hanajima is working at Kazuma's place as a cook, which is something that Kyo was not pleased to find out, but despite his best efforts, The Guy Who is Also There at the Dojo Whose Name I Cannot Remember can't figure out how to get her to leave. Kazuma says that he will miss Kyo, but he won't worry about him. He's in good hands now.

Uotani is on the phone with Kureno, saying that she'll send his regards to Tohru and Kyo. She also says that she will miss Tohru, but she's also excited for her, for the both of them. She asks if the cherry blossoms are blooming yet, and that she'll have to make her way out to see them (and Kureno) soon.

Ayame and Mine are sending well wishes gifts in the form of big flouncy dresses, for Tohru (who I imagine would be flattered but I doubt she would wear them). Mine says that now that the time has come, she finds this sensation of "children leaving the nest" to be lonely, and Ayame agrees, and says that's exactly why adults put obnoxious amounts of love into cardboard boxes with instant ramen, socks, maid outfits, what have you. (They then say that they're going to send similarly flouncy dresses to Yuki, who I doubt will respond kindly)

Mayu and Hatori are on a date, and he offers to take her with him on a summer vacation to Okinawa. He says he's never been on a "decent" vacation, and that he wants to see the country. Mayu starts cracking up at the idea of Hatori in a swimsuit, then sobers quickly at the idea of herself in one, saying that her figure isn't ideal for a swimsuit (from the way she talked about herself I think she'd be all the rage in early 2000's Western fashion).

Akito says that she's not going to see Tohru and Kyo leave, saying that if she wants to visit Tohru, she'll go and see her, but I imagine it's also for the sake of everyone else that would be there.

Finally, we end with Yuki going to talk to Tohru. He tells her that he's happy about all that has happened, and that he's glad that he has gotten to this point. He says that he was weak, that he couldn't handle being around people, but he wanted to be loved, and be needed. All he ever did, he says, is want. But during that crucial time, Tohru appeared, and fulfilled that wish without even trying. He learned so much from her, and she gave him what he needed, and that's how he is able to be the person he presently is. And he also finally says that she was basically his mother, in a way. He wonders if she was like that to everyone, with how warm, welcome, and gentle she is to everyone she meets. He goes on to say that in this time, when everyone is parting ways, everyone is thinking of Tohru, wondering if she's happy, if she's crying, if she's doing well. Finally, he thanks her, and says that he's so glad that he got to meet her, and that she was there for him, and for all of them. (He also actually says her name, which he's never done, I don't think. It's always been "Honda-san", but never "Tohru", but now he's said it. There's really not an English version of that, as far as I'm aware, but from what I know, it is a pretty significant thing.)

There's a little bit of an epilogue, showing a child walking into a house, asking where Tohru and Kyo are. A woman replies saying, "That's Grandma and Grandpa to you!", but the child pouts and says that Grandma said she could call her by her name, and that they left her behind again on their walk. The woman tells her to not get in the way of their "lovey-dovey alone time", and there's a final establishing shot of Tohru and Kyo walking together, holding hands, with Kyoko's words: "Repeat the good, and the bad. Do it all, and pile on the years."

And that's the end!

I think I'm heartless, because I didn't cry at the end. I wanted to, but I didn't. Overall, I really liked this series! It was a lot of fun to read, a lot of shit goes down, it was a rollercoaster. Thinking back on how the story started, knowing some of the events that occurred before the story started, it all kinda leaves a bitter taste in my mouth (mainly the teasing that Kyo gets about him "training in the mountains", and knowing what was actually going on, it's kinda hard to laugh now 😬). One thing that I was kinda expecting the story to mention, but never did, was Izusu's mark on her back. It looks like some kinda of scar, but I never saw anything addressing it. Now that I think about it, it could have been from a number of things, but it was never said explicitly, which I think is weird. I think I'm gonna leave it here (I'm typing this last portion on my phone at 3:45am so it could be better).

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 2

Rating: Explicit. 18+

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it’s own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You’re Peter’s classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don’t know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you’re lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Bad girls are sad girls! Always wondered what goes through the mind of a spoiled, rich but intelligent and perceptive teenager? Have you found yourself craving that adrenaline rush, the danger of a forbidden fruit? Okay. That was cheesy as hell. Gross.

Let’s try again. Sarcasm? Check. Vine references? Hell yes! Crude humour? Check. Blunt honesty? Double check. We’re living in a Lana del Rey song, ladies.

The author doesn’t actually condone codependent relationships in real life. This is a filthy little fantasy. Enjoy, deviants.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @vozit​ @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings​

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings  ! She deserves all the love 💙

Peter woke me up at eight AM the next morning like the little shit that he was, demanding I make him pancakes. It wasn’t the first time I’ve had the joy to experience him in the morning and he knew exactly how to antagonise me enough to make him the special pancakes he liked so much. They had become kind of a ritual whenever he stayed over at my house, which was quite often - teachers liked me enough to pair me up with one of the most sensible kids for any projects that couldn’t be done alone by yours truly on her own.

I put on my yesterday’s dress, applied moisturizer and obediently trotted behind an excitedly mumbling Peter. The kitchen was large, beautiful and delightfully empty of any resident superheroes. I’ve indirectly crossed paths with all of the tower’s residents hanging around Tony, but I’ve yet had to speak more than polite niceties to any of them. 

Spying a bowl of boiled eggs and some sort of weird salad alongside half burned toast on the counter, I suddenly understood why Peter demanded his pancakes. I strictly instructed the disaster child to stay away from my cooking process and set to work with one ear listening to his ramblings and a headphone in the other. 

A set of thumping footsteps appeared behind me as I was pouring the batter for the first pancake. Their owner loudly sat down next to Peter, sighing, groaning, generally making “I’m not a morning person” sounds.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes,” Peter’s tone was way, way too chipper.

“‘mrng,” The Sergeant grumbled. “Who’s this and why is she making pancakes?”

I turned around, spatula at the ready. “It’s me,” We’ve actually met before, but Barnes had left before I could even come over from my side of the work bench to say hello.

He nodded in acknowledgement after giving me a suspicious once-over. “One of Stark’s science children. I’m James but you can call me Bucky,” His voice sounded rough and gravely, and he clutched a coffee cup half the size of my head.

I snorted. “Science child, sure,” It wasn’t half-bad actually. I wisely choose to ignore the part of being Tony’s. No matter how hot the man was, I wasn’t anybody’s but my own, thank you very much. “Go get the bananas, Nutella and maple syrup, fellow science child.”

Peter scrambled to follow instructions as I plated the pancakes and cut the bananas into neat little rings to fill the sweet circles with. A tablespoon of Nutella, half a sliced banana, wrap, garnish with powdered sugar and pour maple syrup generously on top. I really didn’t see how this could be difficult but any and all attempts to teach Peter how to recreate my masterpiece always ended up in an absolute mess. I turned around to ask Bucky if he wanted any. The look of a man starved answered all my questions.

“You’re a goddess,” Peter moaned around his mouthful, nose smudged white with the powdered sugar.

“Gross, chew first then talk, you neanderthal,” I scoffed, prepping more batter for the second batch of pancakes. I wasn’t sure if everybody would show up but figured it would be rude to exclude them from the sheer magnificence that were my pancakes. I was just that good.

The music in my ear drowned most of Peter’s disgusting chewing noises, thankfully. My second batch vanished into thin air, inhaled by the two males like the garbage disposals that they were. Peter, in particular, ate an alarming quantity of food and I was surprised how he managed to stay so skinny. His daily eating schedule resembled the Hobbits.

More people appeared, this time acting less surprised regarding me standing at the stove. Hawkeye, Black Widow, Scarlet Witch and her brother, all of them wandered in wearing sleep attire with various amusing prints. Thankfully, they mostly kept quiet or chatted with Peter - I would have definitely grumbled if someone tried to talk to me. As far as my body was concerned it was still the middle of the night.

“PANCAKES,” A booming voice announced and I shuddered at the sheer intensity and devotion contained in that one word. Thor.

“Please use your indoor voice,” I snapped reflectively. My brain caught up with what I just did so I hastily backtracked. “Sorry, I’m a bitch in the mornings.”

The blonde man chuckled, coming over to poke his nose into my flurry of pour-flip-fill sequence. Then, with all the grace and manners of a prince, he dipped one (1) large finger into the jar of Nutella and wandered off with it stuck in his mouth. With this turn of events the Nutella was bound to run out sooner than expected.

I turned around, annoyed confusion in plain sight. “The fuck?.. That’s gross, don’t do that,” Finding his brother (adopted!) sitting next to Thor, wearing a haughty smirk, finger still in his mouth. So Loki turned into his brother to steal Nutella from a jar. I sighed. Nobody even batted an eye. “Your alien germs are in there now, double ew.”

“Alien germs? Where?” Bruce entered the kitchen with a tablet under his arm, wearing Hulk themed pajamas, Captain America in tow. I was honestly on the verge of breaking down into hysterical laughter. Domestic Avengers wasn’t something I’d expected to see or experience, ever, much less be a part of. It took a moment for me to remind myself that they were people, too, and each of them was entitled to their own quirks. 

“America, egg-splain,” Peter muttered under his breath, giggling. “Loki stuck his hand in the Nutella jar,” He pointed at said jar. “She got grumpy,” Peter pointed at me. “Don’t make her grumpy, please, I want more pancakes,” And turned his pleading puppy eyes in my direction again.

“This is indentured servitude,” I pointed my spatula at the little shit. “You just had, like, ten.” But I made more batter nonetheless. I must admit it was kind of cool, seeing the earth’s mightiest defenders so relaxed. And Pete being happy, that was just… The best. I don’t know how to explain it. His eternal cheerfulness was highly contagious.

Chuckles filled up the room, the adults chatting and bickering amongst themselves while they patiently waited for their own breakfast. 

“Do you need some help?” Bruce approached me after stopping to fetch himself a cup of tea. It smelled strongly of tangy herbs and honey.

“I need more Nutella and bananas,” I admitted, surveying the sheer amount of people I had to feed. I didn’t doubt the Captain and two Asgardians had an appetite to match Peter’s which meant a literal extra set of condiments was required. Thankfully, Bruce fetched them for me, coming to a stop next to me. “Anything else?”

“You know, I tried making these with Peter and he just ended up with powdered sugar and chocolate all over himself,” I mused, noting the way Banner was carefully observing the assembly of a pancake. “You think Doctor seven-phds can manage to add a few toppings to a pancake without causing a disaster?“ 

Bruce rolled his eyes fondly, bumping me with his hip. "I’m no Clint Barton when it comes to cooking but at least I don’t burn my toast like Steve,” True to his word, his hands made swift motions of filling, wrapping and plating each individual pancake. They were almost as good as mine albeit more messy. I had lots of practice though. We finished off a batch in companionable silence, sounds of the team and my music playing in the background. 

I didn’t notice when I started swaying to the rhythm, catching a confused look from Bruce. I brushed back my hair, revealing a wireless headphone in my ear and he chuckled in understanding. “What are you listening to?”

“Right now? Kings of Leon,” I said, leaning towards him so he could hear the chorus “Use Somebody” currently occupying my right ear. 

“I like them, too,” He said, his cheek gently touching mine. His hands slowed on the pancake, a soft hum vaguely reminding me of the song’s melody emanating from his throat. “What else do you usually listen to?”

“Mostly heavier stuff, but I have a whole separate playlist dedicated to mid-2000s bops,” I answered. “I’ve heard I’m quite old school when it comes to music.”

“Well, I am an old man, so…” Bruce grinned mischievously. “But my guilty pleasure is Lady Gaga,” He admitted with a laugh.

I laughed, too. The image of his dancing in his lab to Born This Way was too much for my brain and I hung my head, fighting giggles. Bruce bumped me with his hip again, faking a pout. “Okay, okay, that was a fucking hilarious image, you go dude,” I finally powered through my struggle to contain laughter. “My own guilty pleasure would be… Umm… Lana Del Rey, I guess.”

Bruce made a vague noise of confusion. I took a brief break from mixing the batter to dig out my second headphone, presenting it to him and switching to a song. “This is what makes us girls”. Despite the fact I have never stolen a car or had a close female friend, the nostalgia was real. “Carmen” followed after the first song and I silently thanked whatever deity that “You can be the boss” was taken out of Spotify - I don’t think I was prepared to share that kind of information with a lab partner. An older, handsome lab partner. Wait… Where did that come from?

“I like it,” He said after the song ended and my more usual stuff began playing. “It suits you, I think.”

I groaned. “Really? I think it’s edgy,” Hiding away the embarrassment, I passed him a tray of freshly baked pancakes, occupying his immediate attention.

“You’re an old soul,” He gave me a lopsided smile. I saw a very faint blush tinting his cheeks, the kind of blush that had me wondering about the meaning behind his words. 

I gave an attempt at a smile in response, the left corner of my mouth barely tilting up. We talked some more about the rock music we shared in our earphones. I had a lot of 80s hair metal and 90s grunge in my playlist. Bruce was not a Curt Cobain man but enjoyed the works of his legacy, Marcy Playground. 

A tan hand wormed its way between me and Bruce, snatching a handful of banana slices and disappeared just as swiftly. “Tonyyy,” Bruce groaned, picking up another banana to replace the stolen pieces.

The spatula in my hand became a weapon as I blindly aimed at the target behind my back. A loud “ow” indicated I hit it. When I turned around, Tony was clutching the side of his face, a hurt look in his eyes and cheeks stuffed full of stolen goods. I stared him square in the face, absolutely refusing to acknowledge the fact that he was shirtless - the arc reactor glowed brightly in the middle of his toned chest. Fuck.

His chest was honestly what I was aiming for. I constantly kept forgetting how short he actually was. There was this one time when Tony had to put his arms around me to steady a piece of tech - he felt huge, hard and enormous around me. 

“What’s that for, Princess?” He finally chewed through his food and found his voice.

“For being a Tony,” I retorted. “Stay away from my workspace and wait for your breakfast like everybody else.”

“Hey! This is my kitchen,” He whined immediately, like the adult man that he was. I nearly cried from how adorable his face became, eyebrows scrunched up. “I don’t want to wait! And why does he,” Tony’s finger accusingly pointed at Bruce, “Get the bananas?!”

“Because he’s Brucie-bear,” I stuck my nose up in the air when Bruce’s arm wrapped around my waist. “He’s my science father,” I stuck my tongue out at Tony, seeing Bruce’s triumphant smile. Banner used every opportunity to get back at Tony’s incessant sass. 

The gleaming in Tony’s eyes should have alarmed me. “But he’s not your science daddy,” Tony’s flirting was accompanied by a salacious eyebrow wiggle and Peter’s screech of “OH MY GOD!" 

It took me every ounce of willpower to not flush. It was one of those rare times that I was at a complete loss of words. Thinking on the spot, I gave a very meaningful look to Bruce - thankfully, he got the gist and returned an equally filthy smirk back. Tony gaped.

"Is this how they are in the lab?” The Captain’s quiet voice leaked horrified amusement.

“All.The.Time.” Peter’s resonating groan was followed by Romanoff’s laughter.

We went up to the lab after breakfast. Thankfully Tony stopped his dramatic bitching when I served him my pancakes, scarfing them down much like everybody else. So me and Pete were accompanied by one (1) happy engineer, all three of us tinkering away on a robot that we were supposed to present in our science class in a month. The focus that was required to solder was immense and our usual banter was missing, replaced by an occasional request for a specific tool or a water bottle.

It took a few hours to get the dirty job done even with Tony’s help (technically he wasn’t supposed to but neither me nor Pete had the heart to forbid him from it when the man looked so content and happy soldering away). By the time I uncurled from my spot on the bench, my back was in knots and my dress had oil stains and holes all over it. I immediately went to the nearest water bottle, finishing half of it in seconds, picking up my phone to see if I had any important messages from my mother.

None.

Just a message from Bruce.

I tapped on my phone, idly scrolling through the Instagram app, liking some pictures of people I barely knew and keeping up a general appearance of being very busy. When the ringtone started playing, it took me a whole five seconds to understand it was, in fact, coming from my phone - I certainly wouldn’t put something so… Outrageous as my main tone.

Banner had discovered the power of the internet. You Can Be The Boss played loudly, and it played from my phone and Bruce was calling me. I picked it up, turning around, fighting the incoming laughter. “Yes, Brucie?" 

To say that Tony’s and Peter’s faces were scandalised was nothing. The boy’s face was such a deep shade of red, I started worrying about his blood pressure and Tony’s mouth hung open limply, like he was witnessing the second coming of Christ. 

"Is Tony sufficiently traumatized?” Judging by the breathless tone of his voice, Banner was resisting a mighty laughing fit of his own.

“Oh, absolutely,” I happily chirped.

“Good, keep it up. Come to my lab before you leave,” Banner snorted and then, realising what he’d done, promptly hung up, the tell-tale beginning of a giggle fit abruptly interrupted by a dial tone.

I put the phone in my bag, gathering the rest of my things with a look somewhere between innocence and indifference. At least, I hoped it was - my mind kept jumping between the engineer’s ridiculously scandalised face and the way his mouth went slack, lips moist and soft and plush. That’s a very dangerous trail.

A very dangerous trail I couldn’t resist exploring in the solitude and privacy of my own bedroom, at home.

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.19}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 6.3k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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Snape held up his own glass while quirking an eyebrow at her, then summoned the first bottle from one of the shelves. "We shall start easy. This is an ordinary dry wine."

Robin held out her glass for him to fill, then waited while he did the same with his. "Cheers then." She gave him a smile, clinking her glass to his before moving to take a sip. The taste was entirely different than what she had imagined, but very pleasant nonetheless. Fruity in a way, but not sweet, not at all like juice… but it didn't burn either. She took another sip, both because she quite enjoyed the taste and to differentiate between the many combined flavors.

"How do you like it?" He inquired after another moment, having finished his drink as well. There really hadn't been much in the glasses in the first place, but they were only testing things after all. For now.

"It tastes like classical literature, with a touch of night and the smell of rain." She smiled down at her empty glass, then up at Snape again. "I like it. A lot, actually."

"You certainly have a peculiar taste. I'm curious to see how this continues. A sweet wine next, perhaps?" Now it was him who didn't wait for an answer, and went to pour them the next sample. The smell of this wine was different from the previous one already, and when Robin took a sip, she pulled a face immediately.

"This just tastes like grape juice with a dash of headache." She mused down at her glass, contemplating if she even wanted to finish the rest of it. It wasn't horrible, alright, but just by far not as good as the previous one. With a small sigh, she gulped down the rest of it as well, then shuddered a little. Right… small sips.

Snape just snorted at her move, and finished his drink as well. "I have to admit, this isn't my choice of liquor either."

"Why do you own it then, if you don't like it?"

"It was a gift from Dumbledore. Or rather a bribe, considering that he expected me to do him a favour in return."

"Uuh, what did he want you to do?" Robin's eyes lit up in curiosity, and her grin spread over her entire face while Snape went to pour an amber liquid into their glasses next, after cleaning them out with a spell; probably the same they used for the cauldrons.

"You would like to know that, wouldn't you?" He asked in amusement, and Robin tried to glare at him but couldn't convey the hostility at all, especially not when she finally couldn't help laughing a few seconds later.

"You really are insufferable! And yes, I would like to know… I'm just not sure if begging or playing uninterested will do the trick for you."

"Neither, likely, but I will spare you the efforts of finding out for sure. He wanted me to deliver a letter to someone in Hogsmeade one night, without asking questions. I didn't ask, but I didn't forget either."

"Sounds reasonable. Especially with Dumbledore."

"It was a long time ago. Now, try the next one and tell me what it tastes like."

"Fine…" Robin sighed and took a careful sip of the amber liquid, then frowned to herself while she thought. After having another sip and effectively emptying the glass, she decided that she liked it, in a way. "It tastes very sweet… like honey and a little like caramel. But it's got something wine-like to it too. The sweet one, not the dry one."

"Close. It's mead, which is a type of honey wine."

"Close indeed!" She grinned, and slowly started to notice how her head grew a bit fuzzy. Like someone was slowly starting to put cotton in between all her nerves, which made it both easier and more difficult to think at once. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, but she was still somewhat weary of it. "I like it, but not as an all-evening kind of thing. More like… a snack in between."

"You really do have a peculiar taste."

"Why?"

"Most women I have encountered prefer the sweeter types."

"I've never been one for overly sweet." She shrugged, toning her own grin down to an amused smile. "Gets dull way too quickly."

"I have to agree, I'm not too fond of it either." He replied easily, then summoned the next bottle with the tiniest smirk. "It seems we have a similar taste then. How fortunate for you."

"Indeed, it's fortunate for you. Now you get to share all those lovely drinks with me instead of downing them alone."

"I definitely should have thought better of that beforehand." He sighed dramatically, pouring another amber liquid that had a clearer colour however. "Now I have doomed myself into sharing my alcohol with you for the times to come."

"As if that wasn't the intention behind this entire experiment in the first place…" Robin raised an eyebrow at him with a knowing smirk, then took a tiny sip of the golden liquid in her glass. It tasted almost like the firewhisky! But… earthier in a way, with less of a hot fiery burn and more of a tickling sharpness. "I like this one a lot. It's like the firewhisky, but with more nature in it. What is it?"

"Scotch."

"Ah, so that's why it's so similar!" Her eyes lit up, and her smile did too. "A magical whisky and a muggle whisky. Interesting comparison."

"I thought you should have an object of direct reference, at least."

"I certainly do now. It's different, but also very similar, and I appreciate that."

"I'm afraid that was the last sample I could provide for now." He said, then leaned back with a curious expression. "How would you evaluate the experiment?"

"Well, I really liked the Scotch and the dry wine. The mead was good but not for now, and the sweet wine… oh well." She thought, frowning to herself a little, which seemed to amuse Snape for some reason. "But I think for tonight I will stick with the firewhisky. Not that I should have much more in the first place, my head is already swimming as it is, and I'm feeling way too warm."

"You keep surprising me… But we have an agreement, so firewhisky it is. A good choice, actually." He said, then got up from the sofa and returned the other bottles to their places on the shelves. When he sat back down, he handed Robin a small vial filled with a dark purple liquid, then opened on for himself as well. "Drink this. It should keep your head from swimming as well as prevent some of the other… less favourable effects of the alcohol."

Robin did as he said, uncorking the vial carefully before gulping it down with a grimace. Disgusting stuff… it tasted bitter and rotten and all kinds of unpleasant. Snape however drank his without even pulling a face. As she put the stopper back into the fragile glass, she could already feel the fog in her head decreasing to a pleasant but still noticeable haze, and when she handed the vial back to him she couldn't help but frown at whatever he had just given her. She'd never heard of a potion like this… there were similar ones, mainly antidotes and neutralizers for toxins, but then again, alcohol was a toxin in a way, wasn't it? For a moment she pondered over various possibilities to alter different antidotes to have this effect on her, but she couldn't determine the exact components of the purple potion she had been given.

"Watching you think is quite entertaining, you know…" Snape finally remarked and thereby brought Robin's attention back to the outside world. "But hearing your thoughts is still by far preferable."

"Sorry." She chuckled softly, brushing the strand of hair she had been twisting around her finger back behind her ear. "I was just thinking that I've never heard of a potion that prevents intoxication, or slows it down at least. Which is ironic, really, considering how useful of a remedy that is!"

"Well, most people drink to get drunk, which obviously eradicates the necessity for a potion like this. I came up with it years ago, when I still frequented a different kind of company that made it necessary to keep a clear head at all times."

"You invented this?!" Robin's eyebrows rose up high in an instant, and a ridiculously large wave of admiration crashed over her in accordance. She decided to forego any inquiry about the company he had mentioned, for she had a decent idea of it already and no wish to let any sadness come up tonight. So she made no efforts to dim down her awe at his talent for once, and allowed herself to simply marvel. "That's incredible! Honestly, if it's not a common thing in existence as of yet, then I can't imagine it to have been easy to come up with in the first place! And it does work quite perfectly. Wow…"

"Will you stop gushing now…" He grumbled in obvious discomfort at the amount of positive attention and admiration he was receiving, and made an attempt to keep his eyes everywhere but on Robin after he'd put the vials down on a side table. "It's just a potion, not a deathcure."

"It's an extremely useful potion! And I'm absolutely certain that you could come up with a deathcure too, if only you wanted to."

"Nonsense. I invent things to solve the problems at hand, not because of some noble cause."

"I have seen only very few of your inventions and creations… I wish you would show me more. Will you, at some point?"

"I doubt that you would like them much. The potions I come up with serve rudimentary purposes, and the spells are more often curses or healing charms than anything of the impressive kind you have created." He huffed, still avoiding her eyes by staring into the flames in the fireplace with a scowl. Robin couldn't understand how he saw so very little of what she saw in him. How he refused to believe any sincere words of admiration. She would make him believe it, if he wanted to or not.

"Look at me. Please…" She tried, calmly, requesting it more than demanding him to.

No reaction, he remained sitting sideways on the sofa with one leg tucked beneath him, facing Robin in the same way as before, but his eyes were glued to the flames. Orange sparks dancing in pools of black.

"Look at me, Severus!" Robin's tone was more insistent this time, but again it was the use of his name that finally drew his eyes back to hers. She gave him a soft smile, and the utmost sincerity possible to convey with a gaze at times like this. "Everything I have seen of what you have created was bloody amazing. There isn't a single person in the world whose work I admire more. Who I admire more in general. I think your talent is incredible, as are your inventions, and it's a tragedy that you don't let people see that more often. And since I don't lie, you know you have to believe me… You know that I mean every word of it."

He didn't reply, but his eyes stayed on hers for a calm moment of drawn out breaths and the quiet sound of music, until finally he shifted in his spot on the sofa to move closer to her. Not much, only so that his knee was touching hers, only so that he could reach out to her without leaning forward. And he did, he lifted his hand to her face in a painful slowness, in careful reluctance, and when the back of his fingers ghosted over her cheekbone so very lightly, Robin couldn't stop the faintest gasp from escaping her lips as they parted on their own account. Her heart stood still as did time and thought, but when it were his eyes that flickered down to her lips for less than a broken second now, all stillness broke down into an untamed frenzy of eclectic emotions, and she remembered how to breathe when her heartbeat burst back into action. But it was mere two seconds later when his hand dropped again, and the corners of his lips lifted in the tiniest smile.

"You had ink on your skin; three black speckles on your cheek and two just above your lips. I thought you might want them gone." He finally commented, almost too quickly, too easily to be quite as nonchalant as he made it seem, but Robin was too concerned with her own emotions to try to analyze his as well right then. Bloody hell… he should not be allowed to do this to her, not when she so desperately wanted him to do more. But at least the moment had yet again been too brief for her to make a fool out of herself; that perhaps was the best outcome of it, even if her heart wanted to object. Gods, she loved every second of his touch, no matter the reason, no matter the outcome.

"Oh." Was the most eloquent reply she could muster up the will to give, and as much as she wanted to refrain from showing any reaction, her eyes dropped down to the empty glass in her hands nonetheless. Ridiculous, really… what had she been expecting?!

"I apologise if I made you uncomfortable, that wasn't my intention."

"No!" Her eyes snapped back up to meet his gaze in an instant, and she couldn't help laughing at the irony of that situation. "You really didn't, don't worry. I don't think you could do anything at all that would make me uncomfortable, actually."

"In that case, you are welcome."

"Thanks." She chuckled, and her heart rate thankfully settled back for the normal drumming. Honestly, she couldn't care less about ink stains on her face and she was rather sure that he wasn't the type to be bothered by it either, but she decided to let the issue go for now. Pondering over it would only leave her hoping for something she had no right to hope for.

"Now, where were we…" He mused, then picked up the bottle of firewhisky and raised an eyebrow in question. Upon Robin's nod, he poured them a proper glass each, then set the bottle back down and finally clinked his glass to hers now. "Cheers. To the drink I no longer owe you."

"Cheers." She chuckled again, observing him while he took a sip at first, then she went to taste the already familiar burn as well. In an odd way, it smoothed out the raging fire in her heart, and at the same time it stoked it to no end. Great.

"Would you actually want to know more about the spells and potions I invented?" He asked after a short moment, leaning into the backrest with his right side so that he stayed facing Robin.

"Yes! Absolutely!" Again, her eyes lit up in honest curiosity at the prospect and she radiated an excitement that had him rolling his eyes with a stifled smile.

"It started early on in my time as a student here, actually. I believe I was in my second year and already rather familiar with a large number of curses unfortunately, when it dawned on me how they are composed in their very core. Reading used to be my preferred pastime even back then, and soon enough I had learned enough about spell creation to start my own attempts." The smile on his lips broadened ever so slightly, wavered for a moment, but then stayed. "The first few went horribly wrong, that is safe to say. It took me a while to find a path between chaos and control that was the right degree of both to function as one. From there on I created all kinds of spells, some more successful than others. Mostly curses and hexes though, for a while at least."

His words reminded Robin of the story about why he had started wearing all black, and she didn't want him to go down into that darkness of mind again. Not tonight. "Curses are also just spells that one has to handle with a bit more responsibility." She shrugged with a smile. "They're often more useful than most charms."

"Indeed." His smile turned into a smirk instead of fading, and Robin felt immensely pleased with herself as he went on. "When I was in my sixth year, I rewrote the entire potions textbook and experimented more in that field as well. The vast majority of my time as a student went into it, and some of the spells and potions I created back then I still use today."

"That's amazing." Robin smiled at him warmly, then however had to snicker at a stray thought. "I'm honestly not surprised though. That you would be smarter than the books given to you, I mean, and probably the only capable person around. It's ironic."

"Why?"

"Because you must've felt like I do all too often these days. Especially when I am slowly becoming a somewhat qualified professional, while the dunderheads around me try to use enlargement charms on their private parts."

Snape's eyebrows rose in an instant at her words, and he almost spluttered out his sip of whisky, which made Robin laugh in return. Probably because she had shown pretty much the same reaction when Jorien and Gideon had talked about it earlier that day.

"Please tell me you weren't a direct witness of this instance." He sighed dramatically, a tease more than anything, and now it was for Robin to almost spit out the sip she had just taken.

"God no! Obviously not!!!" She protested after the burning in her throat allowed her to, while the burning in her cheeks prevailed. But she still had to laugh at his expression no matter the topic. "It's just the prime gossip among the sixth years currently. Supposedly happened yesterday evening, Friday I mean, in that dark fifth floor hallway. You know, the one with the-..."

"I know. It was already a hotspot for hormonal idiots during my student days. You might have noticed how to this day we always have avoided that particular hallway during patrols… That is why."

Robin let out a snort; everyone had heard of that fifth floor hallway before, it wasn't much of a secret, but much of a myth. Then she continued with the story. "Well, rumour has it that Friday night a Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor were caught trying to undo a failed 'engorgio' that obviously was causing immense pain for the guy who had tried to… well, use the spell for things it wasn't made for. The guy supposedly was sent to the hospital wing, and the girl landed straight in detention. I'll spare you the details I unfortunately had to hear during dinner… Jorien and Gideon made a show out of discussing it quite thoroughly."

"If that rumour should be true –which I do not even doubt at this point, knowing how idiotic the majority of students is– I sincerely pity you for having to be associated with such imbeciles."

"Thanks…" She huffed in amusement, and took another sip of her whisky. "They're a year below me, but what difference does it really make? I mean, even people in my year are so far away from me at this point that I feel out of place everywhere but with you."

"You might be the very first person to ever feel that way about my company. But I understand what you mean, I… feel the same about you, actually."

"I take that as a compliment." Robin grinned, and a wave of tingles ran down her back and arms, which she tried to cover up by speaking on. "Especially since your peers are quite alright on average, competent in some subject at least and usually with a certain level of sophistication, if one doesn't count Morgan in. Mine however consider a sloppy shag in a dark hallway the most romantic thing ever and don't know how to use second year charms appropriately."

Snape made a sound between a scoff and a snort, but couldn't help the smirk that tugged on his lips a second later. "If you say it like that, I am almost tempted to think better of my colleagues than I would want to."

"And I'm tempted to think worse of my peers than I should. Everyone is entitled to their own taste and choices of how they want to do things."

"That doesn't mean we can't judge them for it."

Robin's lips curled up into a smirk as well, and she finished her whisky with one more sip before holding her glass out to be refilled. "Precisely."

They each had another drink then, while chatting on about the latest gossip among both students and staff, and another as they discussed the events of the past day and their plans for the following one. By the time Robin had finished her third whisky, she was feeling too warm yet again, and the fuzziness was back in her head as well, but she didn't mind. It was a strange feeling rather than an unpleasant one, and it was making her drowsy more than anything else. On the other hand, it might also simply be the time of night that was making her more tired by the minute, causing her to curl deeper into the cushions of the sofa while her will to get up and leave shrunk by the second. It was past three in the morning… they usually would've called it a night by now. And yet here they were, still on the sofa, still talking. If their current state could even still be considered as 'talking' in the first place, with Robin more lying than sitting in her corner, eyes closed and a soft smile on her face while she listened to the surprisingly rhythmic flow of his voice. She didn't exactly know what he was saying, didn't hear the words as words but as a melody of the most alluring song that lasted way beyond the music they had run out of an hour ago. Honestly, she could just listen to him forever and would be perfectly happy.

"Robin…"

"Hmm…"

"You might want to set the glass down before you fall asleep entirely." He sounded tired as well, but undoubtedly humoured in a way that at last got through to Robin. Oh damnit…

"I should go…" She mumbled, brows creasing at the effort it took to speak at all. "Not sleep."

"And possibly run into Morgan in this tired state? I don't think so."

"Hmm…"

"Stay here." He said, an offer and a request more than an order. "If that would be acceptable for you."

The corners of her lips curled up ever so slightly in return, and every thought of leaving vanished into thin air in an instant. "Would love to." She sighed under her breath, relieved and content at once as she let herself sink deeper into the cushions and into sleep's sweet lure, upon which she received a quiet chuckle in return. The movement that followed she barely still registered, how the sofa rebounded at the loss of his weight, how the glass was taken from her hands and her wand removed from her hair. At the latter she merely sighed in appreciation, and a quiet goodnight was the last she heard before she was wrapped in darkness.

… … …

It was quiet sounds of agony, ragged huffs and laboured breaths that brought Robin back to her senses. Her eyes fluttered open, heavy with sleep, and she blinked a few times until she could place where she was. The sofa, Snape's room… softly illuminated by dim moonlight that barely still fell through the windows and bathed the space in gentle brushes of silver. Serene almost, the deep shadows and cold whites…

The gentle haze of heat and sleep lifted off her mind in an instant when she heard another strangled sob, the rustling of fabrics, a sharp intake of breath. She sat up immediately; her head was spinning ever so slightly at the rash movement, but not enough to cause actual dizziness even as she scrambled to her feet. This had happened before… once, a year ago, when they had accidentally slept in the lab together. On her tiptoes, Robin moved from the sofa to the other end of the room, up the steps and towards the curled up figure on the bed, and her heart broke a little when she saw the tortured expression on his face. Did he have nightmares like this more often? Her heart broke even more upon the answer she didn't dare to give herself. It hadn't been like this in summer, the two nights spent on the couch in his home… What had been different back then? What had she done last year? She had been there, close to him, offered comfort through the lightest touch… And without a doubt she would do it again.

Without a second thought she walked right up to the edge of the bed, but froze in her movement when she looked down at him, so inexplicably vulnerable for once, in a moment both surreal and painfully clear. There was no doubt that he wouldn't want her to see him like this… but Robin also had no doubt that it changed absolutely nothing for her. She had known this side of him for a while now, and it was as much a part of who he was as were the scowls and the teasing. But that didn't mean she had to make it more difficult for him by drawing attention to the fact that he was at her mercy right now, without his choice.

So she merely reached out and gently curled her fingers around his, taking a hold of his hand slowly but firmly nonetheless. Seconds later his hand tightened around hers as well, the deep lines on his face disappeared and his breathing evened out as well. A tiny sigh in sheer relief escaped his lips at last, and Robin smiled instinctively. She would do anything to keep him happy… and holding his hand all night certainly wasn't the worst of that. With a silent sigh in return, she sat down on the ground while keeping their interlaced hands on the edge of the mattress. She knew that she would definitely fall asleep if she'd sat down on the bed instead… and she also knew that Snape likely wouldn't be too happy if he woke up to find her wrapped around him. On the ground, however, there at least was no way she could fall asleep and embarrass herself… And if she couldn't sleep, she might as well spend the time resting her mind in other terms. Thus she silently summoned her backpack, and with her free hand dug out one of her favourite non-academic books. A collection of short stories, nothing extraordinary, but some of which were written rather beautifully indeed, and at the very least, she had always found them calming. So she started reading, and like she was sharing calm and comfort with him through her touch, she now tried to share these stories as well. Not by any means of actual magic, really, but just… by feeling them. Perhaps it worked, perhaps it did not, but he slept calmly without another interruption all night, holding her hand tightly as she held his, and that was all that mattered.

It was only when the room started brightening at a surprising rapidity that Robin finally stopped reading and glanced at her surroundings once more. Her eyes were burning, her arm long gone numb from being held up the entire time, and she was cold and aching all over. But she was happy nonetheless, and even the realization that an impending sunrise meant an impending breakfast at this time of year couldn't take that from her. With tired eyes and an even more tired mind, she read the last few pages of the second to last story, then shut the book quietly and put it back into her backpack; she wouldn't get through another story without her eyes turning into sandpaper. Perhaps closing them for a minute would do her good… only until Snape woke up, which surely would be the case sooner rather than later. She would have to be alert enough to see the tutoring through after breakfast, ideally without yawning every two seconds like she did right now. Really, it was ridiculous how much rest her body needed… how jittery and shaky she got when she didn't sleep, how cold she was and how unfocused. That wouldn't do for tutoring, and the thought made her sigh. But with just five more minutes of closing her eyes at least, she surely could push through it somehow. This by far wasn't her first all-nighter after all. Thus without trying to find any more reasons why this could be a bad idea, she closed her eyes indeed and leaned her head against the side of the bed. Just five minutes of closing her eyes… but it wasn't even five seconds later when she was fast asleep.

… … …

Warmth, comfort, and the sound of rain pattering against the windows was what Robin woke up to this time around, but it wasn't what had woken her up. No, there wasn't a cause for her to come to for once, none but that she was actually feeling well rested and ready to rise for once. Still, the incredible comfort she found herself in made her bury her head deeper into the pillow and hug the covers tighter around herself as well. They were so soft… so warm, and everything smelled like home. Home… what did home smell like? She frowned to herself, eyes still closed, until it started to dawn on her that the scent of home was the scent of Snape. He was home to her. Finally she opened her eyes and already found her first suspicion confirmed; she was curled up in his bed, wrapped up tightly in the dark green sheets she had been admiring before. Her heart skipped a beat, then another for good measure, and a sudden rush of delight and excitement washed away the very last remainders of sleep. She sat up with a quiet groan, and immediately found that the wide space on the mattress around her was empty. Fortunately for many reasons, and unfortunately for others. Wait a second… she had fallen asleep on the floor, dead tired and shortly before sunrise. Now it was raining, and she was nice and toasty in bed. Wide awake. Bloody hell…

"Good morning." Snape's voice made her jump immediately, and she gripped the covers so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She hadn't even seen nor heard him coming up the two steps to where the bed was perched into the corner next to the window… but then again, she hadn't been paying much attention to the world beyond the bed in general before now.

Snape was dressed in his usual teaching robes as always, but he did look surprisingly well rested for once, which likely was a difference that was so subtle that it probably was only visible to Robin. With that same odd expression he had already worn in the lab last night, he then leaned against the far post of the bed with one shoulder and merely held her gaze for a moment while the rain continued its gentle drumming against the glass.

"Good mo-… uh… What time is it?" She asked when her heartbeat had calmed back down, while she made a vain attempt to smooth down the mess of waves and knots on her head.

"Almost twelve. Not long before I would have woken you up anyway." He answered, and noticing the immediate shock that was painted on Robin's face in return, he continued straight on. "You needn't be concerned about your appointments. I let your roommates know during breakfast that their tutoring would be moved to the afternoon, due to unforeseen circumstances that were holding you up."

"You did?" Robin's eyes widened, but at the same time the tension in her body disappeared, and her shoulders dropped down visibly as she let out a relieved sigh. "Thank you! But you really just should've woken me up when you got up… I didn't mean to fall asleep in the first place, nor to seize your space like this."

"First of all, you did not seize anything. I picked you up from the ground and put you onto the bed when I got up." He murmured, and Robin hugged her legs to her chest under the covers while waiting for him to continue. "I couldn't let you stay on the ground, or even the sofa… not when you obviously sacrificed your rest to ensure that I could have mine."

"Thank you." She offered him a small smile in return, and at the same time she was more certain than ever that staying awake to let him sleep had been the right decision. "I actually didn't even want you to find out that I had done that in the first place, but I guess it's kinda hard to deny now."

"Why wouldn't you want me to know?"

"Well…" She shrugged with a small sigh. "I guess I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable. Neither about the whole hand holding thing nor about the reasons why it was necessary."

"The only thing that makes me uncomfortable is the fact that I could sleep peacefully for the first time in ages, at the cost of your own rest and comfort."

"It's fine, really, I just wanted you to have a good night's sleep, which you obviously had, so all is as it should be." Robin gave him another encouraging smile, and it eased the frown on his face ever so slightly at least. "And since you were gracious enough to let me rest instead of waking me up, I certainly have gained more than I've lost; I haven't felt this good after waking up in longer than I care to remember. Your bed really is terribly comfortable, do you know that?"

Now his lips curled into an almost involuntary smile as well, but he averted his eyes nonetheless. "I am aware, yes."

"Gotta be a professor to enjoy such luxury, I guess…"

"Or befriend one who you can bribe to share."

His words as well as his tone made Robin laugh, and at the same time it set fire to her insides and electricity to her skin. Geez, he couldn't say things like that and expect her not to wonder what exactly he had meant by it. Nothing probably, as always, but she still couldn't quite suffocate the sparks of hope, the whispered 'maybe' in the shadowy parts of her mind. She shouldn't go there, no matter how tempting it was. Time for a change of topic.

"I hope I didn't keep you from anything by, uh… being here." She said, and finally convinced herself to flip the covers back, only to shiver immediately at the loss of warmth. Right… more windows meant more cold seeping in. "I just mean, usually you're not in your room during the day, are you?"

"Very true. Today however I chose to work here up until now, on the little I had to do. After lunch I will return to the office."

"Can I have your classroom? For my tutoring?" Robin asked with an innocent but very much hopeful smile, then stifled a yawn as she rose to her feet and stretched her limbs. Unsurprisingly, they didn't even ache anymore after a few hours in that cloud of a bed. Gods, if only she could wake up like this every day…

"Obviously."

With a content sigh, Robin moved to stand right in front of Snape, who in return stood straight once again and frowned at her questioning expression as she went to ask the next question that came to her mind. "Does my hair look alright? Preferably like I didn't just fall out of bed?"

"Don't make me lie to you." He replied in an undoubtedly humoured way, but he was trying to tone it down nonetheless, to hide it beneath a layer of calm neutrality, which however didn't work nearly as well as he probably would've liked.

Robin groaned under her breath and rolled her eyes to herself in return, then however decided to just go with it. "Fine… but if you don't want me to run through the castle looking like this, I'll have to seize your bathroom."

"You were the one concerned about your appearance; I am not. But feel free to seize whatever you please."

"Oh, you will regret saying that." She laughed as she skipped down the two steps, then halted at the door and turned around once more. "At the latest when I come back here ever so often and bribe you indeed. You'll definitely regret it then."

"I will…" He replied with a not smirk, just when she was about to close the door behind herself. And just when she barely was still able to hear, he added under his breath a quiet "...Never."

______________________________

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[evakuality]

Hanna, episode 7

1.  It’s really interesting what they’re doing with Amira this whole season.  It’s setting up to a whole lot of the stuff that happens in the later seasons really well.  She suffers so many microaggressions all the time, and even here - she makes a joke about costumes parties and they all just swallow it.  It’s a really vivid recognition all the way through of exactly how much Amira deals with on a daily basis.  Considering we all know where this is leading, it’s difficult to watch, but also it’s good that they do this.  

2.  But oh yikes, this whole bunch of rumours swirling about Sam ‘making out’ with someone at the party is really well done.  It’s pretty obvious that no-one genuinely knows - the only people who know what happened are Hanna and Sam (and ‘making out’ isn’t exactly how I’d describe it) so the rumours are all based on a love of gossip.  Who knows how they started, but it’s obvious just how guilty Hanna feels.  How awkward for her to be hearing this!  Then her very very obvious ‘I have a boyfriend so it wasn't me!!’ move (very similar to Matteo’s in s3 in the discussion about homosexuality with Amira, which is illuminating - they both want to try to ‘prove’ something with these moves).  Also, Kiki and her thing about Alex - it’s terrible how invested she is when it’s obvious that he’s being an asshole.  The excuses she makes for him unfortunately ring true - this is exactly how people try to convince themselves of this sort of stuff.  In reality it’s a shame the girls aren’t more forceful - they clearly want to say Kiki is being an idiot, but after Amira got shut down last time, it seems none of them is keen to be more explicit.  

3.  Ohhh poor Hanna.  This thing has been eating at her and she had to tell someone about it.  But choosing Matteo was NOT a good idea.  I mean, we all know this is going badly (Snakesak is such an iconic take on the season that even if you forgot everything else, you’d remember that), but even without that, Matteo feels a bit more... I don’t know.  Shifty?  Somehow?  There’s something really calculating in the way he examines her.  Like, even without knowing what’s coming, there’s clearly something goin on in his head.  With Isak it came out of the blue; he was set up much more supportive/innocent because they wanted the shock value when the reveal happened.  But with Matteo there’s something different. I guess at least partly because most people watching would already know what’s coming so hiding it is less imperative.  Hanna sees him as a friend and the only one she can tell, but it’s such a weird choice anyway (as it was in the original).  He’s Jonas’s best friend.  Like he says, why tell him?  Even if he wasn’t a little snake, this is putting him in a really difficult place.  Effectively this makes him choose between his best friend (who he’s kind of in love with even if she doesn’t know that) and his friend.  Him choosing to let Jonas know wouldn’t be all that strange and it’s a big risk to take before she knows he sits in the ‘don’t tell’ camp.  I am also baffled that they did this with other people in earshot.  It could totally get out, even if this girl agrees she should keep quiet.

4.  I really like this adaptation of the ‘claim’ Alex makes into ‘he told me I have a cute stomach’ instead of the hoodie thing in the original (though that works very well too).  This way it’s much less overt and also it really plays into Kiki’s fears about her looks.  We’ve seen small hints of her eating issues already, so this just adds to the weight of that.  Specifically targeting a body part that girls can be sensitive about is clever - at first it can seem sweet, like he’s being so nice about something vulnerable, but then you can see he’s being very deliberate with that impression and it really hammers home the insecurities Kiki is already harbouring.  

5.  It’s a fascinating dynamic between all the girls in the argument about how Kiki should deal with Alex.  I’m with Sam and Amira - stay above it and move on (tbh, Kiki should never have gone there in the first place, but she did so this is her current best option).  But the fact that Mia is so strongly in favour of telling him he’s a dick is swaying Kiki.  Of course, Mia is a strong person and from her it probably would feel empowered.  But Kiki is, and always has been, far more innocent and vulnerable and sensitive.  It doesn’t feel like (even without knowing where this goes) that this will go well for Kiki, and the fact that Mia doesn’t get that says a lot about her.  I like this; it’s nice to see her not being quite right here - it sets her up for some growth as we move on.  And super yikes when he tells Kiki to take a breath and she does.  This, the importance she places on him, is exactly why this was a terrible idea, and why Mia’s encouragement was wrong.  It’s easy for her - she’s not invested, and her failure to recognise the difference between her and Kiki is really important.  And Alex is SUCH an asshole that this scene is so hard to watch.  Kiki’s acting is superb in all these scenes and it’s so damn hard to watch her take in ‘you’re not worth it’ but as with the original, Mia’s ‘take down’ doesn’t land for me, probably because while Alex’s acting is far superior to William’s, there’s still a fundamental lack of caring about what she’s said.  It doesn’t feel like saving face, but more a genuine lack of care.  And this is why I really dislike this ‘William’ character; he doesn’t seem to care.  I have said before that I’ve never watched Mia’s season because I cannot stand William in the original.  So if I do watch I’ll be interested to see if they can make me like him better.  So far, they’re not succeeding.  

6.  And just like that, we’re back to the soft, dreamy colours and shots of the start of the season.  But there’s a harsher light coming in to some of the shots. particularly with Jonas and so it’s not comfortable.  This is something on a precipice.  The kissing is back and they’re reconnecting on that level, and it’s working again.  The darkness is gone, but things are hovering still - that Sam stuff on her phone with Jonas in the background, slightly blurred but very overlit, adds to the sense of unease.  You can feel something coming, even if it’s not obvious what that is.  

7.  Man this fight is so funny.  I know I shouldn’t say that, and it’s a very serious moment for Hanna, but the slo-mo and the faces they make!  And Amira’s moves!  Kiki, full-on legs wrapped around this girl as they both collapse to the ground!  Priceless.  I do like the way the sound gradually fades out as Hanna’s realisation of what’s happening sets in.  That’s really well done.  

8.  What a change from the earlier moment when Hanna woke with Jonas and they had their sweet little moment.  Now we’re fairly tight in on her face as she keeps trying to get hold of him.  It sucks a lot, and you can sense the anxiety and worry she’s feeling.  Also, I do understand why she feels the way she does about all this, and why she leans on Matteo.  Unlike earlier, here it makes sense for her to rely on Jonas’s best friend.  He’s the one who has the best line in to Jonas when he’s staying so distant from Hanna.  But wow his advice is truly shitty.  On the surface it seems sensible, both times.  Nah don’t tell him; it’ll only hurt him.  Nah leave him be; he needs time and space.  But in both instances it’s the complete opposite of how she should be acting.  And in both cases, Matteo knows Jonas, he knows what he’s like and how he’ll act.  This is so calculated.  And he’s still in a space where he has little to lose.  He feels like he can still ride the ‘hey I had their best interests at heart’ line and get out of it.  I always felt like Isak was more opportunistic in his lying; saying and doing things in the moment.  Whereas this really does feel like Matteo has thought it through more - that’s some difference in the way the two characters are presented and acted.  But I like that it’s different, and his little hint of a smaile when she collapses on him - Isak seemed a lot more genuinely wrapped up in Eva and his face seemed more overwhelmed.  But Matteo really seems to know what he’s doing.  Also - sound mixing in this scene: top notch.  I love that you can hear every swallow, every breath, every step, movement etc.  It really heightens the tension right up til she gets Jonas’s ‘don’t call me’ text.

9.  I said it before and I’ll say it again, Leonie’s savage pleasure in Hanna’s troubles is a real reflection on her - and not a good one.  I really do get that she’s hurt, but this is vicious and she’s being awful!  And Kiki - ugh, just be quiet child.  Calling other girls sluts is pretty shitty.  

10.  I really like that Eva’s mother morphs into Hanna’s father.  There’s a difference in this dynamic that builds on that difference.  Eva and her mother seem closer, even while her mother isn’t around much.  Hanna’s father just feels more absent emotionally, so these moments where he tries to be a dad fail because of that.  It’s obvious that he cares for her and that he’s trying, but equally obvious that he just doesn’t know what she needs or how to approach her.  Not that Eva’s mother was much better, but it was still a different sort of distance.

anyway, this is suuuuper long because so much happened in this episode.  It’s packed with a lot of stuff and while some stuff is starting to resolve, there’s so much that’s hanging over their heads still.  I like this one a lot, but I think it could have done with a little bit of breathing room.  Maybe that one episode where it felt like things were waiting to happen could have picked up some of this heavy lifting.  But either way, this one has a lot going for it and really does set us up for what’s coming in the next few.

[red-hood-vigilante]

more hbo spn rambles, thoughts, drabbles etc. long long post.

part 1 here

there’s some things i’ve omitted here bc others have already posted about those things, certain headcanons and characterizations and stuff. those posts are in my likes somewhere (and i’ll reblog them someday), and there’s some posts i’ve read but not liked, which i now can only vaguely remember, which is why some ideas/thoughts are similar

ALSO most of these follow the model i talked about in part one: how s1-5 will stay more or less how they are but s6-10 is changed (some things are cut out entirely, some things are tweaked and some characters + arcs are more fleshed out. more focus on sam’s trauma and post-cage adaptation to the real world as well as dean letting his rage and control issues consume him and how he’d recover and redeem himself)

as i typed these paragraphs, i realized i really have 10 seasons mapped out and ready to go. hbo hire me!!

alright go:

sam and dean get wearier as the show progresses (second half), and eventually they stop putting so much care and thought in the people they save. like...hm how do i say this, like as long as a victim/victims are saved, they don’t care about how that happens or how those people suffer potential consequences, like if the victims lose a limb or have their homes burned down because of the monster, then sam and dean don’t really care. they saved your life, now they’ll leave you with your life in potential shambles and not care because all that matters is that they saved your life, not how it is afterwards. they still care about saving that one person, but eventually it pales a little in comparison to a war between heaven and hell, being the vessels etc. ---> saving people becomes less about making sure they’re actually alright and healing from horrific events and more about just making sure they have a pulse before they move on

when angels lose their wings they are either burned off in the actual fall or ripped off of them in their vessels, which leaves pretty nasty scars on the vessel

ed and harry are so young and bright eyed about the whole hunting thing; sam and dean as kids, idolizing it, finding it exciting and intriguing when they shouldn’t. sam and dean try to get them out of the business before they too are too traumatized and desensitized to do anything but hunt. neither sam or dean will say it but they are jealous of ed and harry and their freedom to leave, and hate them for choosing this voluntarily instead of being dragged into it by tragedy

hbo spn is a slow burn. there’s a lot more shots of sam and dean in silence just sitting together after a hunt, exhausted and too tired to move yet. they’re covered in blood and guts on the side of the road after killing or covered with dirt in a graveyard after burning bones, sitting next to the fire, just watching it. the times they park the car and watch the stars? we get to see it. 

dean wears rings and the amulet all the time in the beginning, for the first five seasons. the rings vary; first they’re some of john’s old ones and stuff he finds in thrift stores. then later on he begins wearing rings from people they’ve saved/haven’t saved as a keepsakes etc. when he begins his descent to the holy murderer in s6-10 he wears less and less rings. they don’t matter anymore -> symbolically shedding who he was and what mattered to him

the only accessories sam has is a rosary/cross around his neck. he has jess’ engagement ring in his pocket/wallet. after the cage he vaguely remembers why the ring was there and who jessica was (more on this further down)

the four horsemen are manifestations of different aspects of human nature at its most grotesque and strongest, can’t be killed as long as humans live. war is conflict, famine is desire, pestilence is physical and mental illnesses.

(the seven sins are like the horsemen, tulpas of human nature instead of demons)

death isn’t a concentration of an existing aspect of humans as much as it is the end of life, the antithesis of life. death the oldest of the horsemen and has existed since the beginning of any life, organism, cell and atom. the opposite of life and light, the other half of god (as i’m typing this i’m confused as to why  amara was the opposite of god instead of death). death isn’t evil or good, remains 100% objective. doesn’t care for sam or dean at all, but has a begrudging respect for their stubbornness and entertainment they provide due to their flat out refusal to do as they’re told by celestial bodies when anyone else would crumble

by including death i feel like it very naturally begs questions of who decides when someone dies, when someone lives, why would death follow these guides instead of reaping whomever whenever, what happens if a life isn’t reaped at the right time etc. the reader in me adore the idea of death having a library with books and records of everyone who has ever lived and died and how they died - but then, who writes these books and why? do they decide, and if in that case, how? these questions are above my paygrade but you know what i mean? like there has to be some sort of system right, god created everything, death executes to maintain order, some third party deity writes the laws and the books. the three branches of government. ok but it’s hbo so again, i think we shouldn’t dive this deep into things, like as much as these topics intrigue me i don’t want to stray too much from the dirt road trip aesthetic

shapeshifters are extremely rare because they don’t require any kind of human blood or organs/sacrifice to live

i want more exploration of how magic is like science, like it just needs the right ingredients and right conditions. sam thinks of magic as an obscure branch of science; it just requires research and knowledge and clear intentions because science can be controlled and do a lot of good when used responsibly. dean doesn’t like it. he doesn’t trust the unpredictable elements and he’s seen enough to know it never goes well. magic is a force that can’t be controlled by anyone.

sam and dean have full on fist fights regularly. to practice and keeping each other sharp, but also because they’re siblings. they’re feral, insane and unhinged with each other and they get on each other’s nerves A LOT. it’s petty and childish and sometimes it can get a lil ugly but it becomes their way of family therapy. after a fight the next scene cuts to sam and dean with ruffled clothes, nosebleeds and swollen lips at a diner eating silently after beating each other up. either they sit in silence because they’re tired or both are harping on the other’s openings and weaknesses

sometimes they’ll fight a little dirty but they do so in different ways; dean will pull the old ‘look!’ and point to something and then tackle sam when he turns to look while sam will just cry out in fake pain which makes dean stop dead in his tracks before sam headbutts him or kicks him in the groin

we, the audience get used to these fights, they’re sometimes funny and for comic relief, sometimes for narrative purposes (like tricking a monster they’re fighting each other when they’re really not) BUT. then comes the times when sam and dean are actually fighting without holding back and we see how much they are capable of hurting each other or how heartbreaking and difficult it can be to watch when of them are incapable of fighting back/doesn’t defend himself -> swan song when dean doesn’t fight back against possessed sam, or when dean beats soulless sam unconscious

sam and dean also just verbally bully each other constantly but they do have their odd ways of expressing affection and care. they get the other person their fave snack whenever they go grocery shopping without being asked to and are the only other one they truly trust to have their back in hunts. have a cup of coffee ready before the other asks for one. brothers and each other’s best friend. nightmare duo but in a sweet way. the cooperation of ‘the usual suspects’ when they’re in different interrogation rooms but still has the cover story down to a t. code words and code names and cover stories, they know it all

when sam and dean fight together against a common enemy they’re a damn nightmare - because they know each others weaknesses and habits, they cover each other perfectly and in complete silence. they’ve been at it together since they were kids and read each other’s nonverbal cues like a picture book

to build off of what i said in part 1; the winchesters are pretty hated in the hunter’s community. even the people sam and dean frequently work with (bobby, ellen, jo, ash, rufus, bela, kevin, charlie, castiel etc) roasts them all the time and don’t hesitate with calling them out on their self-pitying crap when it get’s too much (spn was just objectively better when characters weren’t afraid of dragging sam and dean through the mud for being selfish and stupid) and this WILL persist in hbo spn. the only reason people continue working with sam and dean is because they know deep down a lot of the things that happens aren’t sam and dean’s fault - but they still blame them for it. doesn’t make it easier how sam or dean sometimes start crap on purpose to save the other

the winchesters are terrifying and people for sure tell stories about them, but not like ‘they’re heroes’, more like ‘they’re insane and dangerous. stay the fuck away from them’. some stories are true, like how they’ve worked with demons, but some are just game of telephone. (dean has apparently a ghost he is frequently possessed by while sam is actually a mutant vampire). hunters hate and are scared of the winchesters. sam and dean are never invited to hunter stuff (burials, memorials etc) but crash them nonetheless even though the hunters do NOT want them there.

you know what drives me insane when i think about it? how some characters in spn already are their hbo spn counterparts; john. mary. adam. maybe kevin?

other things that already are their hbo spn counterparts: dean throwing away the amulet right in front of sam. eyes burning when angels are seen. how ghosts are just tragedies, stuck in a loop they can’t leave. how a lot of the monsters they meet are just victims or their circumstances or the first victim of a curse. the impala being sam and dean’s home. dean not knowing how to comfort sam when he’s upset other than trying to do things for sam that usually brings dean comfort (driving the impala, listening to rock music etc). the roadhouse. heaven being an eternal version of the memories that made you the happiest even though it’s not real. sam wanting independence and freedom but never fully having it. dean fearing being alone more than anything else and that’s where he always ends up. sam has an eating disorder after the demon blood and dean has an alcohol problem he refuses to see as a problem. dean saying “i’d do it again” without an ounce of regret and pouring himself a drink when sam tells him it was fucked up to lie to him about gadreel

the demon/angel hybrid: THIS could be sooo interesting to explore. an angel and demon hybrid are you kidding me?? not to toot my own horn too much but i’m so clever. i should write this story myself. SO. does this creature have parents who fucked in their vessels or was this an experiment by god (yes i love the ‘mad scientist’ idea, that really should’ve been played up way more) or did a pre-existing creature (human or otherwise) drink demon blood and angel grace at the same time so that it created itself? so much potential for some really intriguing storytelling and character exploration - not only the creature itself and what they would be like, but also for the people around; sam, dean, castiel, jack etc. how would they react to this thing that is the very definition of defying heaven and hell and all the natural laws? does it exist before the show starts or will we see its birth?

the powers of the demon/angel hybrid would be tricky; a mix of holy and defiant, grotesque and beautiful. unconsciously forces people to tell the truth when talking to them. poisons whatever they touch. eyes of a demon, wings of an angel. can smite but skin will burn when touching iron. can do deals but will require a sacrifice in return, not a soul, usually a body part taken then and there (the hybrid eats it. it favours eyeballs and the liver - angels like raw meat). lights always flicker. makes things explode when angry (esp people and cars). can manipulate feelings, thoughts and memories. can travel to both heaven and hell, not welcome in either places. + standard stuff like telekinesis, teleportation, mind reading, super strength etc. 

sam and dean’s wardrobe are pretty much the same; whatever’s cheap and not covered in blood. however, they do have stylistic differences. sam thinks graphic tees are funny, dean uses whatever’s black combined with john’s leather jacket. their wardrobe melds as they stop thinking of themselves as individuals and more of “me and my brother,”. their clothes are tattered and torn to shreds all the time. hand me downs, hand me ups. when they stray off their “path” and do things that are the crux of a storyline/character arc, this would reflect in their clothes. when sam is with ruby and becomes more and more “evil” he wears more and more red, a colour he has stated in the past he doesn’t really like. when dean is dead, sam starts to wear his rings and john’s and dean’s leather jacket. when dean decides he’s going to say yes to michael he dresses in white, when sam is dead dean takes off every piece of jewelry except the amulet. he holds it clenched in his fists when he’s whispering what comes close to a prayer

logically the amulet should have a backstory but you know what? i love that it’s hinted to be just a piece of cheap jewelry sam found in a thrift store he decided to give to dean. but narratively it should be explained so... idk. what could be logical solution as to why it would react to GOD himself? maybe god wore it once cuz he thought it was neat but he sold it for three dollars because he wanted coffee and then sam found it a week later

i would prefer it if god didn’t show up at all (absent father number one) but if he DID he’s not all powerful just a true neutral (like death, 100% objective) who created a thing that just took a life of its own, much like a parent and a child - the parent helps the child but can’t control it. the times he did intervene or tried to do something it didn’t really have any real long lasting effect so he gave up on trying a while ago. 

@spneveryseason talked about this, how the storyline of sam being possessed by gadreel would be horrifying if we saw everything from sam’s perspective instead of dean’s (her fic is wonderful). in the ‘dean slowly descends into a righteous murderer to become holy’ idea i have this tracks so damn well because again, if dean believes something is right, it is right, no questions about it. everyone around him is like “that’s really fucked up and you should make amends” but dean doesn’t see any reasons for why - sam is alive isn’t he? and seeing it from sam’s pov would really underline how horrifying, dehumanizing and belittling that experience was

john and mary are adam and eve. sam and dean are cain and abel are michael and lucifer. time is a flat circle. history never stops repeating itself. 

sam is the villain of s4. he is manipulated and key information is withheld from him but in the end... would it made a difference? it crossed his mind, that he could be tricked because ruby is a demon after all, but maybe he likes the power, the feeling of freedom, that he wasn’t just the baby, the one who always needs permission to do things. if he has to drain possessed people to get that power... so be it. and it’s for a good purpose, until it isn’t. he’s hungry for more, to be feared and respected. he’s enticed by lucifer’s sweet words, the potential of all that power and the idea of ruling two out of three realms. dean manages to pull him back from the brink because sam decides he doesn’t want to be what john thought he was and fail dean and himself like that.

dean is the villain in s9. he is controlling, the mark of cain without the mark. what he says goes - it’s not a democracy, it’s a dictatorship. he doesn’t see how much pain, doubt and fear he causes the people around him. if some victims or civilians die on his watch that doesn’t matter - just some collateral damage. sam can’t make dean listen to him because dean is the older one, the one who’s always called the shots. dean is the angelic one, heaven’s chosen warrior, he is untouchable and unkillable. he’s is an excellent killer, filling the void with blood and rage which is better than the crippling fear of loneliness carved into his bones. 'i butcher for love, to protect,’ he tells himself. ‘why shouldn’t i exterminate, regardless of the cost? i’ve followed the rules, i’ve always sacrificed. now i call the shots. it’s my right.’

sam’s hell trauma is never magically removed. he’s stuck with the memories and the nightmares and the occasional hallucinations. castiel can’t do anything but offers to wipe his memory completely, but sam says no, he is still doing penance. 

after dean comes back from hell he starts calling himself old man and jokes a lot about he’s 40 years older now (after he’s more comfortable about speaking about hell) 

when sam comes back he feels ancient (he’s over 900 years old at least but he lost count), weary, tired and so so so out of place in this world. he’s forgotten how to put gas in a car, how to drive, how to use a credit card, all the song lyrics he and dean used to yell together, the faces of people he knew before he fell, the softness of a bed, the schools he went to, most of the hunts he and dean, how john died, who mary is, the initials carved into the impala, the taste of food that isn’t raw meat. it’s so much he’s forgotten that he has to relearn. he prefers figuring things out with castiel instead of dean because castiel doesn’t silently resent him for everything he’s forgotten

sam doesn’t laugh anymore. despite dean’s many and castiel’s few awkward attempts, it’s more like quick smile and a quiet “hmm”. on some days he recoils when he sees blood and guts, on other days he’s so apathetic it’s unnerving

sam sympathizes with the brought back mary and castiel more than ever. dean tries to get sam to remember things he’s forgotten from his childhood but sam can’t connect with it anymore. he stopped being that sam a long time ago. dean doesn’t know what else to do than try to force this connection to be revitalized and he fails. sam isn’t that person anymore and this wedge in their relationship becomes a central factor in dean’s s6-10 desperation and isolation. sam is here and safe but it’s not really sam, not the sam dean grew up with

while sam has forgotten how to make coffee, he now knows everything about angels, effective torture tricks, a bunch of lore + biblical history, how to navigate hell, the most powerful and influential demons, rare and powerful spells as well as perfect enochian (he will speak enochian without realizing and it feels more natural than english). lucifer and michael were surprisingly talkative (raging about the unfairness) when taking their anger and hatred out on sam and adam and each other. sam had access to all of lucifer’s memories and knowledge for the time he was the one in control. walking library and encyclopedia of biblical lore.

he still has some muscle memory from hunting and sparring, but sam is ghostly thin and very rusty. even though he’s an expert on lore, he’s not fit to go on hunts anymore and he knows it. 

sam remembers adam and swears he’ll try to get him out, but he can’t. just thinking about the cage makes him vomit. he can’t talk about it, much less go near it. after a while sam thinks it might be better to let adam stay down there than let him come back up and feel this crushing emptiness and loss of direction

sam’s trials take place in s9 instead of 8; coinciding with dean’s villain arc. for sam the trials are a chance to redeem himself again, this time for good by closing hellgates forever. they’re scrubbing him clean of the demon blood and his sins and they give him a sense of purpose again now that he can’t join hunts anymore. it doesn’t matter if he dies because of it. it would be nice with a permanent and peaceful death that did something good. dean is taken aback by sam’s devotion to repent for something that happened years ago and for something sam has already paid for a thousand times over. dean realizes how messed up he himself has become and how he’s helped put sam here, on the cusp of self sacrifice again because of sickening guilt and self hatred. dean begs sam to not complete the trials at the cost of his own life and swears he’ll better himself, be a friend and a brother, not a jailer, dictator or a murderer. ‘if you won’t give yourself or life another chance, please give me one.’ ---> s10 pacifist dean learning to let go of the control, the violent tendencies and the rage

oh wait what if gadreel still possessed sam after the trials to heal him but sam is the one who invites the angel in? he’ll keep his promise to dean about staying alive, as well as heal from the inside and have breaks from the world when he doesn’t want to be present, like he and gadreel will alternate being the one in control. he keeps it a secret from dean and helps gadreel imitate him so dean won’t notice. it’s not so bad, being possessed by this angel - sam can say no anytime and gadreel is a nice guy. since they alternate on who’s present they can access each other’s memories, which is terrifying and embarrassing at first, but since gadreel and sam have been tricked and used by lucifer and been punished for it for far too long, they understand each other. now another creature knows their trauma and terrors without the need for verbal explanation. also having an angel residing in his body makes sam feel like he can hunt properly again because gadreel can heal him and take over in situations sam’s overpowered. this could show how messed up sam has come to view himself and his body. 

dean is conflicted when he finds out; sam lied but gadreel does help sam heal, sam’s traumatized and his self-worth is fucked up and dean has contributed to that. dean convinces sam to push gadreel out, that sam is still valuable, loved and a good person who shouldn’t be in a place where he views his body and mind like a property to be occupied. sam’s faith begins to come back bit by bit, not in god, but in himself, his brother, in the good things in life. they build their little family; sam, dean, castiel, the hybrids, whomever of their allies that are alive at this point.

castiel can heal sam and dean’s wounds but they are never completely gone; they leave scars and phantom pains. the brothers have SO many scars over the years. dean flaunts them to impress people because he likes the questions and the fearful admiration, the attention and the nods of approval. sam hides them.

when dean is in a bad mood or needs to get his mind off of things, sam just drops something like ‘i don’t get the deal with led zeppelin. one of the most overrated bands of all time’ and dean will go OFF every single time about the entire led zeppelin history, their discography and how they’ve shaped rock music. this will go on for hours and sam will zone out after 1 minute. but dean rants nonsensically the entire drive and it does get him to think about something else for a little bit. they stop at a motel and dean is STILL ranting while brushing his teeth. stops when going to sleep but without fail picks up where he left off the morning after and is so into it he doesn’t notice sam not paying attention at all. we could see this once in s1 when they’re searching for john, another in s3 when dean is anxious about his deal coming to an end and then again in a later season, when sam doesn’t remember to ask/doesn’t have the patience or mental capability, so they’ll sit there in tense silence, showing how much they’ve changed.

---> i can see this SO clearly in my head, how they’ll get in the car and we, the audience, will recognize the camera angle, the same lines and dean’s grumpy mood, and we’ll anticipate what comes next. but sam isn’t that kid anymore and he’s not peeking at dean to gauge what his mood is and how much of a shit eating grin he should wear when being an annoying little brother to cheer dean up. now he’s looking out the window, leaned back, they’re not looking at each other. this shot is a minute or two long, uninterrupted. dean turns on music but neither are singing along or doing anything to lighten the mood. 

s1-5: sam gets hooked on demon blood, dean has an alcohol problem. when sam goes through withdrawals, dean decides to quit drinking and joins him because he wants to be supportive, and he realizes that when he drinks two beers for breakfast there’s a problem

s6-10: sam takes painkillers, anti depressants and anti psyhosis meds to numb himself from the phantom pains and reduce post-cage effects. dean started drinking again after sam jumped and still does, but started smoking in addition because he still drives a lot and doesn’t want to die in something as pathetic as a car crash. 

there a scene in an episode in the first half of s8, when sam has decided to stay with dean instead of amelia, and dean has rejected benny in favor of sam, and then the brothers sit in a couch watching tv while drinking beer and neither of them look particularly happy about it - that’s how their relationship is a lot of the time. they know they’re fucked up and neither of them will ever be truly happy when the other’s around, but they owe each other so much and they don’t have to explain themselves to each other the way they do to others. they know each other so well, each other’s traumas and the things they’ve done, it feels fake and exhausting to try to be something other than the veteran hunters they are. misery loves company; they are miserable together but would be far more miserable apart and living a normal life. they do love each other, but neither of them are particularly happy as the show progresses. family is hell and so is the lack of it. 

OK OK i mentioned it in part one, how i had my own very specific idea about how jack should come to be and here it is. long winded but (might just write a damn fic): 

after lucifer was cast back into the cage, he is stronger than he has been in a long time (being in his true vessel helped him stretched muscles he forgot he had. and fresh air.) sam is pulled out of the cage and it leaves a rift in the magic and chains - the binding is weaker and lucifer must act fast to get out before it heals. the cage is still strong enough to hold two archangels, so lucifer has to become weaker somehow to slip out through the cracks. he can’t get out of the cage, but souls can come in. demons bring themselves and human souls as tools for lucifer to use. there’s not much he can do here - consuming them, eating them, touching them, dissecting them doesn’t give him what he wants

eventually lucifer realizes he must do like azazel and create something new of two halves, like when he created demons. he begins melding his archangel grace with a human soul. he tries with demons, but his archangel grace automatically purifies them and leaves them too weak. he must try with a human soul who is good. he finds the soul of kelly kline, who sold her soul to save a loved one. with her, the merging, works. 

he has another self, a twin, a son, who’s half human and half archangel. half lucifer. the old lucifer will die but that’s ok, his desires, presence and self will live on in his new creation. the new lucifer barely makes it out of the cage, only able to due to its human side. on earth it creates a body for itself and takes shape, no longer a form of pure power and energy akin to the sun itself but now a person, reminiscent of kelly kline on earth and lucifer in heaven. they name themselves jack. jack searches for familiarity and finds it in sam, their old self’s perfect tool and another hybrid. jack finds a mentor in castiel, a younger brother and fellow angel with human elements. they do not find anything in dean, the key to his former self’s doom.

jack’s powers: their powers are like and unlike the angels because he is half archangel. jack has wings but sometimes they don’t work, or they’ll end up somewhere else entirely. their body is their own, not a vessel, so jack can’t possess people. doesn’t talk but people “know” what they’re saying or want because jack emits their emotions and thoughts to people they’re talking to like a radio tower. jack can also have this empathic connection and communication with animals. his mood affects the weather. immortal. reads minds. can remove a soul from a body and send it to heaven/hell by touching it, with practice they don’t need to touch a body. 

other stuff about jack: the human/archangel nature means jack only need sleep and food once a week or so. eats only nougat and raw meat. because jack is a kid they nap a lot. levitates when sleeping. never blinks, stares intensely at everything. their eye colour changes based on their mood. eyes glow in the dark. normal humans who look at jack for too long experience memory loss, fainting spells or migraines and eye contact for more than 10 seconds give vivid hallucinations of their worst nightmares. always barefoot, often floats like 10 cm off the ground because they find it more enjoyable than walking. wears the wildest clothes they can find, nothing matches and nothing is weather appropriate

i have a very specific image of jack in my mind; they look like delirium from the sandman comics with the hair that looks like it’s underwater and the fishes floating around their head, here and here are examples. in live action this would look not good or maybe even ridiculous for sure but in animation... endless potential for angels and monsters to have super interesting designs sigh

castiel’s arc should end with him going from blind soldier, to the unwilling ruler of heaven, finding a place on earth with sam and dean, becoming closer with humanity and eventually a father of three (the hybrids). 

[hiswhiteknight]

Unbelievably Outlandish– Part 5

Summary:  Before starting down a new crossroads, the Reader goes onto an adventure of literary traveling. Suddenly tossed into an unbelievable story that has swept the world, The Outlander Series itself. How will a twenty first century woman survive?

Note: I own no characters, except reader, clearly this is based off the lovely book series Outlander by Diana Gabaldon and tv show. This follows more the tv show, but it’s far from accurate. I’m going to try to get better with using less proper English, but who knows maybe I’ll get into Scottish slang.

Pairing: Jamie Fraser x Female Reader

Words: 2000

Warning: Angst, playfulness, cursing, slow start, obviously fighting and such

 You were woken up by a bolt, Mrs. Fitz barged in and woke you up. She had to you stripped into your nakedness, dressing you in appropriate garb, freezing you as she washed you up. She would make comments like, “You’ve got lovely hair and strong frame.” Or “you’ll make a lucky wife for some lad.”

You didn’t eye roll the comment because she was so extremely kind and lovely. Mostly you stayed quiet and listened to her speak about a gathering and how nice it is to have you to help with the injuries and ailments. You thought about the rocks and getting back to your time, where you were slightly less likely to die due to being an outspoken woman. You remember the woman from the rocks and what she said, “Enjoy your adventure, lass.” Your gut told you, you would get back there by fate or at least you could buy time to plan a better escape than something you could throw together in the next few days or even weeks.

You were waiting to be called to the laird, Mrs. Fitz guided you down to an area where you recognized as some medicine, healer space. You spent your time learning and reading from the books. If you were going to be convincing person with healing, you’ve got to read some stuff. You tried to go back into your memory searching for the information you learned from the states and some information you could read from the books. You were far from a medic in anyway. When you first met with the Laird, he was kind and didn’t question you as harshly as you thought he would, considering I was a stranger or a spy. The US government would not take too kindly to a stranger like myself in my time.

Most of the time you read up and explored the grounds and customs. You truly kept to yourself, trying to learn the best you could, especially considering you were not an expert level medic like your brother, he was the MacGyver doctor of the group. The first day you ate in the kitchen with Mrs. Fitz, trying to help around the kitchen. This seemed more manageable than medicine for now. The next day, your mind wondered to Jamie more so than the day before.

Honestly, it’s hard to keep the man out of your head. The first initial day my mind was elsewhere, trying to figure out how to survive in this time till I can find my way home. But now my interest in Jamie was more towards the fact that he felt like your only friend at this time and you didn’t want him to get sick and die of infection, “Mrs. Fitz,” she looked back at you after helping with breakfast, “Do you know where Jamie’s been, thought I would have seen him around more?”

“He spends his time by the stables, top of the meadow, towards the east, why?”

“I should look after his arm, change some of his bandages, and maybe I can bring him lunch,” you said, skeptically. Everything you said, you were cautious in offending the culture here. Honestly, it’s the way you felt when traveling around the world, always apologizing, and choosing to say nothing incase you offend something which you no nothing about.

She smiled at you, “Of course you do lass, I’ve seen you working down there. You’ll see the stuff you need over there.”

“Thank you, you are a true angel,” she continued to work as she smiled, “Oh I thought I might take some extra food for Dougal’s men who have been following me. Thought they might get hungry.”

Shaking her head, “Yeah, though your treating them much kinder than they have been treating you.”

Answering her comment with a smirk, you shrug, “You’re making it harder to want to be nice Mrs. Fitz.”

“You’ve got a kind soul dear, that’s all I’m saying,” she mused at you before shooing you away to complete your business, “Also Las, the laird will want you to join the feast tonight as his guest.”

This cautioned your step, this would be his time to question your motives – the good cop, “Yes Mrs. Fitz, I’d love too. I guess I’m done hiding in your kitchen.”

“That you are my dear,” she smiled at you before you trotted away to get some things you need.

 On your way over, you noticed your guard for the day. For the most part, you tried to ignore the pair. You would have done the same if you were in their shoes. You saw Jamie working a horse as it trots around him. It was strange to think of this time being so similar to how it’s still done today. Jamie had a glow to him, something you really couldn’t describe, not that you’d act on it. You’re not known to act on your attraction or even think about romantic feelings – you’re about everything else. Here was the first time since you were a teenager that you felt a spark of a crush added with a tad bit of annoyance.

It was unfortunate that you were so focused on Jamie’s glow that you trip on a divot in the ground and clobbered over making a strange noise of shock, some curses, and a clang from your basket. This spooked the horse, which nearly injured Jamie. You could hear his Gaelic curses before double taking the sight of you on the ground, “Dear me, I’m sorry,” you yelled in his direction, standing up on your knees trying to dust off your hands.

He tried to hold back his laughter, pulling his sling away from his body and bouncing over to help you up and gathered your things, “She’s just a girl with spirits, that’s all. It’s always a good thing. What can I do for you Y/N?”

“I haven’t seen you in the past day, thought I’d bring you some food and change those bandages,” you said to him, noticing how difficult it is to keep eye contact with him, especially with him holding your hand and you suddenly feeling shy again.

He nodded, looking around, “Let’s head over here, I suspect it’s going to rain soon.”

When he showed you where you were going, you both sat in silence as you checked his wound. It seemed to be healing nicely and that’s when the rain started, “I love the rain.”

“You’re in luck, you’ll be getting that a lot here,” he smirked at you, “Doesn’t it rain where you’re from?”

You continued to focus on wrapping back his wound in clean bandages and the conversation is making it easier to ignore your attraction towards him, “Of course, but I’ve travelled all over for a long time, so rain doesn’t always happen in some areas.”

“Aye, makes sense,” he said, “I imagine everything is healing nicely.”

You nod, as you pat his leg to say he could put his shirt fully back on. You started to lay out the food and you just watched him. You weren’t surprised how much he ate with out much work he had to be doing. Something sparked Jamie to tell you some tales of his times before this moment and you just listened. He told you about his family, especially in relation to his uncles, which made you understand it a bit more. This young man before you had been through his share of trauma and he still sits in front of you fully conscious and thriving. He was a wonder and refreshing. He didn’t hide anything; this was him take it or leave it. He started to get ready to start work again, “You didn’t have to tell me all that, you know. I could be a traitor, a spy even. Maybe I could get money for your head and run away from here.”

He chuckled, smirking down at you before squatting next to you, “That you could, Deoiridh,” he tapped your chin, “Guess I decided to trust ye instead.” He stood up, reaching his hand down to help you up as well, “Best be getting back to work. Thank you for bring me some food and taking care of this,” he touched his shoulder. You could see the stable hand heading in your direction, “You’re a good listener. Also, I hope you’ll start talking about yourself. You’re a mystery.”

You smirk, “Better to use to my advantage later, especially if you even try to pick me up like that again.”

Shaking his head, “I won’t make any promises,” he grinned at you before getting back to his work exchanging some words with a man he worked with.

 You passed by one of Dougal’s men, passing him a basket of food, “Come on good sir, let’s head back to the castle before you switch with Angus, you are far more charming.”

He was in shock and had to skip to catch up to you, taking a bite of an apple. For Dinner, you sat next to the laird being introduced to his family and endured his questions. He continued to try to get you to drink more or catch you in some sort of lie, but you remained calm and answered some of the storyline you have come up with over the past few days. Though he and Dougal didn’t seem convinced, you were in better footing already.

Over the next few days, you got to know the people. Dougal would watch you interact with the children and teaching some of the boys and girls how to fight properly with swords and fists. Medicine was becoming something you were doing your best to learn, but this was your expertise.

Besides that, you kept yourself small as possible until the night of the hall where people gathered to discuss disputes. You stood close to Mrs. Fitz and she translated some of the conflicts being bestowed in front of you. You heard a gasp next to you as Mrs. Fitz held onto your arm, “That’s my granddaughter.” She explained the best she could about what was being said.

“Punished,” you questioned, “She’s a young lady, a girl,” you say, “What would he have them do,” you questioned, trying to understand the barbaric concept. You looked at the pretty girl, noticing her delicate features and small frame. This girl could not take much punishment from what you could tell.

“Whipped,” you barley heard her whisper.

Without thinking you look at her and say, “Like hell.” You barged your way in the center, hearing nearly everyone gasp and a flame of anger hit both Mackenzie’s eyes, “Pardon me, my laird,” you didn’t understand a lot of the customs, but after talking to Mrs. Fitz and some of the children, you know some of the concepts of this ritual, “I don’t mean any disrespect, but I’m to understand I could volunteer to take the girls punishment.”

The father began to yell and get aggressive, you made eye contact with a desperate and scared Mrs. Fitz.

There is a giant pause and skepticism soared between the pair of gentlemen in front of you, “I’m trying my best to fit in here, as your guest, and it’s only fair that I show my respect for your people. This is but a young girl, I can volunteer myself, please.”

Dougal looked fairly enraged, but there was a different spark in Colum’s eyes. Before either of them could speak, Jamie spoke in Gaelic, something that made the crowd laugh, which you suspected to be at your expense. He spoke directly to the laird, which got interrupted by the father again. Dougal whispered something to Colum, “As I appreciate you trying to respect our culture Mistress O’Mulligain, I will ask you to have a sit back where you came.”

You were about to protest, particularly with Jamie’s injury, but the look he gave you told him not to push it. You wanted to be sick, as well kick the crap out of Jamie. You stood next to Mrs. Fitz, putting your arm around her shoulder, and holding her tight. Colum spoke directly to Jamie next, which I understood to show he accepted his terms.

It made you sick watching the cheap moves from his uncle’s lackey. You were bubbling so hot that steam was exploding out of your ears. You watched him limp way and you made your way to give him a piece of your mind.

PART 6

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