#I'm desperate for an interesting module

[becca-e-barnes]

Don't tell anyone but I love the thought of pornstar Bucky's girl asking to do livestreams with him. The thought of him taking the chat's lead?? Or reading the filthy things they're saying?? 🤤

"They're making fun of you, sweetheart." Bucky teases between chaste kisses placed to the soft inside of your spread thighs.

'Is she wet already?' The most recent message in the chat makes you squirm in your seat. Not that you're getting very far. Bucky is quite well known for his skills with a rope but he's left you just enough wiggle room that you can still grind your cunt desperately against the chair beneath you. It's not much relief but it's something.

"Of course she's wet already. Aren't you, baby? It doesn't take our girl long to get herself all worked up when she knows she's being watched." Bucky smirks up at you, his fingers trailing over the slick lace of your panties, gathering just enough of your arousal on his fingertips to show the camera.

'Our girl' doesn't sit right with you but you know it's all for show. You're his girl. Only his. Those people watching on the stream, whoever they are, mean nothing to you. You know he'll remind you of that later too. Reminding you that you're 'his girl', holding your chin so he can look into your eyes while he slides every inch of his length home over and over.

You whimper at the flood of messages into the chat as your viewers respond to the crystal clear evidence of your arousal on your partner's fingers.

'Fuck, she's making a mess.' 'Always such a good girl.' 'What I'd give to be able to taste her.'

The comments run up the screen so quickly you don't have time to read them all.

'She's so desperate, what a good little slut.' 'You've hardly even touched her and I'm already hard.'

"You're right, I haven't really touched her much, have I?" Bucky asks while reaching over for the wand vibrator he'd picked out for this stream. He clicks it on and the toy buzzes to life.

He seems satisfied with the lowest setting for now. Not that you are. That setting is almost always just for warm-up and that's not what you need in that moment.

"Please." You whine, tugging against the restraints, only feeling satisfied when your partner presses the soft, silicone tip to your clit, over your panties.

Everything feels heightened despite the low setting. You've been so turned on for so long that anything at all is welcome.

'Such a pretty little thing.' 'She sounds so hot when she whines like that.'

You hadn't even noticed yourself whining, much less the way you tried to grind yourself pathetically on the toy, trying to feel more than the featherlight touch Bucky was offering you.

You felt Bucky flicking the toy up a speed, startled by the groan that left your own throat. It sounded desperate. It was filthy and unrestrained and totally shameless.

"You like that?" Bucky's voice was all that could tear you out of your own head. He rolled the head of the toy in vertical motions, laughing quietly to himself when the sensation made you gasp.

'She's so loud tonight.'

The commenter wasn't wrong. You knew you were louder than usual, a testament to just how much you found yourself enjoying this.

"Sit still, sweetheart." You hadn't really registered what was happening until after it was done, although you'd agreed it beforehand anyway. Bucky carefully tugged the side of your underwear away from your skin, cutting the lace and then mirrored his actions on the other side. With the pretty blue lace in tatters, your sex was fully on display.

Bucky pulled the fabric free from underneath you, balling it up in his hand before pressing it to your lips.

"Good girl. Take it." You hadn't expected this. Automatically, brattiness takes over, your defiant natures tells you not to do as you're told. You hold out for a second, up until the toy clicks up one more speed and when you gasp in surprise, the panties are pushed past your lips, resting heavily on your tongue and you get to enjoy the taste of your own arousal.

[vulpixelates]

trying to find a balance between "module that's easy to understand and follow bc i am terrified of DMing and might cry" and "module that's not boring af especcially in the first adventure bc that might be as far as i manage to get through before losing my mind and i at least want my forever DM to have fun as a player for once" is killing me lmao

[eatommo]

Common Tongue [d.d]

A/N: Here she is! Just in time to get ready for kinktober! My first Din Djarin fic, it's drastically different than writing for Matt, but I do think I have a good understanding of his character. Star Wars is my home fandom, so I'm very excited to expand my writing to that universe.

Summary: Damage to the Crest causes you and your crew to seek refuge in a very crowded Inn. Left with few options, you make do.

CW: Multiple orgasms, mutual pining, playing with light, sensory depravation, p in v, creampie, fingering, mentions of sexual fantasys, smidge of breeding kink, one bed, helmet stays on, touch starved Din, glove kink, mask kink, implied squirting

You had never seen so many people on one planet before, down every street you turned there was another hoard of people going about their business. Typically, you would feel small, scared to get swiped off the street by some street gang looking to make a quick buck, or worried about getting lost. Luckily enough you had the shiniest beacon in the galaxy parting the crowd in front of you, the Crest had taken yet another beating and was in desperate need of repairs.

So here the three of you are, the little green child sitting in Mando’s satchel at his hip, cooing at you when you make eye contact. You’ve grown quite attached to the little thing over the last few months, just a few nights ago he had crashed in your bunk with you while Mando was out grabbing rations for the limping to Hosnien Prime for repairs.

For being a bounty hunter, he was surprisingly considerate of your needs and always made sure you were fed and slept, and even would occasionally make stops on planets just to show you something he had told you about. From meadows filled with luxurious flowers, or planets with seas raging under lifted platforms, to forests with trees taller than you thought possible.

Then there was this crowded metropolis, neon lights and holograms reflected off the helmet you kept a steady gaze on, half tempted to hold onto his cape to make sure you don’t lose him. A gruff-looking Trandoshan mumbling something incoherent to himself steps between you and your fierce guide. Dread fills your body but quickly dissipates when you hear your pilot’s modulated voice, “Step away from the girl.”

The crowd parts around you, and the lizard-faced man is speaking to you in a language you don’t speak probably a form of Dosh. You shake your head, eyes pleading to the visor of Mando’s helmet for help. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re saying.”

You hear the unmistakable sound of beskar on beskar as the spear from his back is drawn, “She isn’t interested now beat it.”

Scaly hands draw up in defense, and you know he is swearing under his breath, but the way his body moves away you can picture the spear sitting at the base of his spine. As he steps aside, you watch the helmet tilt and look you up and down. “Are you okay? Did he touch you?”

You shake your head, “I’m okay.” You wipe your hands on your flight suit, “What did he want?”

“I don’t speak Dosh, but I could guess.” He offers his arm to you, “Stay closer, I don’t want to call too much attention to us or the kid.”

You take his arm, the cold touch of his vambrace soothed you, reminding you of the cold walls of your bunk on the crest, “Where are we headed?”

“An inn, it's just down the street here, I’ve stayed a few times but not recently.” His body is tense with caution, his hand remains on his blaster for the remainder of the few-minute walk.

You step into a modest looking in, and before you can speak to your surroundings he is handing you the kid to go and speak with the gorgeous green-skinned Twi’lek at the counter. His posture changes as he talks to her, and you wonder if they have a history together, knowing that he is constantly moving across the galaxy, and he doesn’t seem to have any exes or flames that you’ve heard about but you know there's bound to be someone in the endless systems he tells you about.

The thought bounces around in your head for a while, who was this mystery man? For all, you knew he was married, or a Wookie, or something even more improbable. He could be hundreds of years old, he’s traveled more than the last 3 generations of your family combined. After all, Grogu is 50 years old and he is hardly more than an infant, so you find it difficult to pass up the idea of a geriatric old man under all that armor.

You are broken from your ridiculous stupor, by a little bit of laughter in the lobby in front of you. The Twi’lek is fiddling with her lekku like those teen girls you used to watch in holodrama’s, you feel something bitter crawl up your spine and cause you to lick your teeth in disgust.

You continue to peer at them while running your finger over the child's ear, attempting to lull him into sleep. You straighten as Mando does, beginning to bounce the babe in your arms in second nature. “I trust that conversation went well.” Clocking the slightest tick of his helm to the side at your words.

“It’s not a large room, but it’s a roof over our head. Even managed to get some food delivered to the room.” His hands reach and take Grogu from your arms, “They even have warm water.” The child nuzzles into your chest, refusing the embrace of his dad who threatens him with a bath.

You smirk at the T-shaped portion of his visor, raising your eyebrows in a taunt as you pull the babe away from him playfully. “To that, we say dinner first. Right little man?” He grins with delight, hand coming up to your cheek before reaching for the metal piercing in your ear.

“There will be enough food ad’ika, maybe even some Spotchka for you.” He adds, with a sigh at the little one’s pout when you turn your head away from him. “You’re going to hurt her.”

He leads you to a room through a maze of hallways, you follow him closely, slowly growing deliriously tired. The door of the room slides open as you walk up, revealing a plain room with a simple bed and a desk against the wall. You set the child down, letting him explore the new space, if he wasn’t tired enough to sleep soon you may collapse.

You sit on the edge of the bed, ready to curl up like a loth cat and sleep for days. “You should probably freshen up, I’ll get the kid fed, and then we can switch if you’d like.” You remember when he was a man of few words, but you noticed that with each passing day he was getting more accustomed to having you around, time and time again he was surprising you.

You nod, beginning to unbutton your flight suit as you walk towards the fresher with your bag. When the fresher door doesn’t close directly behind you, you glance around searching for an access panel and you notice that it just tints a sheet of glass in front of you to a white smudged appearance. Interesting.

“It doesn’t look like there’s a door. Just some sort of privacy shield on the outside of the shower.” You set your bag on the sink, digging through it for a tunic to sleep in.

“The room is only meant for one person, she is bending the rules to accommodate us.” The modulator relays reality to you, and you feel as though your brain has to stitch the pieces together from fiction.

Sure enough, as you turn to heel and glance around, there is no door leading to a separate room anywhere, not even a storage area or a closet. Your eyebrows are lifted as you take in and process the situation more, to the single bed. Grogu is currently rifling through Mando’s bag in search of something he is seemingly desperate to have; a snack. “Huh.” You glance around more as if the punchline will land the moment your eyes fall on a door you missed. “Dibs on the bed.”

“You can have it Cyar’ika.” You both turn and look at the child who is trying to open a pouch of ration bars.

Your heart swells at the mysterious nickname, he uses it sparingly, and you can’t fight the fear it's something cursing you or belittling you. You haven’t the guts to ask. You’ve got plenty of things to call him, but his kindness fights the bubbling defensive tone in your throat.

“You’re too good to me.” You whisper under your breath with a laugh, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you undress and step into the warm water that falls from the ceiling like rain.

A knock on the door and you hear the clang of silverware as you run your fingers over your skin, checking for injuries that could need tending. “The food is here.”

Your foot slips on the metal floor beneath you, you barely catch yourself on the glass wall of the shower. You start to laugh in embarrassment but as you look up a metal visor is standing above the blur or security glass peering down at you, “Are you okay?”

You struggle to try to retain some of your dignity by covering your breasts and shooing him away, “Go! I’m fine!” The embarrassed laugh escapes your mouth, but you’re not as bothered by the situation as you should be.

Your cheeks start to hurt, with a smile not leaving your face as you finish up, enjoying the clean feel of your skin after nothing but desserts for almost two weeks while camping on Tattoine following a tip on a bounty.

You walk out into the room, wearing a tunic that falls just above your knee and some underwear, the chest band you wear getting on your nerves over the last few days.

The baby is curled into a blanket in a crib that must’ve been brought with the food, passed out. You look at Mando and nod in approval. He hits a button on his vambrace and the crib is enclosed similar to the kid's own that was destroyed.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you. You just surprised me.” The blush creeping up your neck makes you want to physically shake it off. “No spotc-”

He pulls a carafe of the glowing blue liquid swirling it before handing it to you, “The rest is yours, I did have a little bit.” He admits with a tilt of his head, you swiftly bring the bottle to your lips, eager for a sip of the sweet liquid. You don’t notice a drop from the bottle fall down your chin and drip onto your breasts. Staining the white tunic you wear blue.

He does.

You finish some blue milk pancakes and half of a Ronto wrap. Downing sips of Spotchka in between bites of food. “Did you eat something?” You ask, taking a few seconds before you finish the last of the pancakes.

“Yes, I ate most of the pancakes.”

Your ears prick at his voice, he seems exhausted you can’t even recall the last time he slept, knowing it’s been even longer than yourself. “Maybe we can share the bed, it's bigger than both of our bunks on the crest, I know you must be exhausted.” He’s nodding with you, and you smile to reassure him, “It’s gonna be just like a wake-over.”

“A what?” He asks, slipping his boots off before crawling up to sit against the headboard. You swirl the little bit of liquid at the bottom of the carafe.

“A wake-over? You know when a friend comes over and you’re up til odd hours talking about life and boys and sex..” You trail off, waiting for him to recognize what you're describing, he’s just shaking his head.

“I guess I’ve never been to one.”

Your mouth drops open in surprise, even with your dim childhood, your dad working in mines for the empire you had a few goofy childhood memories to hold onto. “Well, I’ll show you the ropes.” you finish the rest of the alcohol its warmth spreading over your skin like wildfire, before settling next to him.

……..

“Do you usually sleep in all that armor?” You tap the silver metal with your fingernail, amused, and the light ting that rings in your ears. The heat from the alcohol feels like it's spreading into the air of the room, and sticking in the words between the two of you.

“I’m not usually sharing a bed with a pretty girl.” His tone is lighter than you’re used to. “But no.”

“It can’t be comfortable, c’mon Mando.” You tease, the foot or two between you feeling closer by the second. “I don’t bite.” You can sense the clenching of his fists in the sheet, between you, unable to see it in the dark.

“I do.” He teases, the words are almost regretful or frustrated. “I can remove the armor, is it bothering you? I just have to leave the helm.”

“Isn’t it heavy?” you muse, lifting the plate slightly with your finger. Wishing you could reach into his mind and unburden him.

“It’s like a second skin, I do fall asleep in it sometimes.” The room is pitch black, but your nerves are on fire with each little shift of the sheet, trying to calculate his body position. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yes, very.” You shift your hips a little, inching closer to him. “When was the last time you were with a woman? Do you get to take the helmet off for anything?” Having already cleared the topic on the agenda for your little sleepover experience, you cross the threshold for your typical conversation.

“I haven’t shown anyone my face since I was a foundling, I haven’t been with a woman since my clan was disrupted on Navaro.” He is honest, and it feels strange to hear him speak so vulnerably, but you still press on.

“I know foundlings are very important but are you required to marry Mandalorians?”

“No, that doesn’t matter, and it’s almost better because our numbers are so small.” His voice is almost a whisper, the modulator barely catching the small sounds. “One might even say it’s encouraged.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat, and it's like a rubberband snaps some clarity into your brain. He’s inches from your face, this is the closest you’ve ever been to him apart from him having to squeeze past you while making repairs. Even then you felt a surge of energy in your chest, an unnameable force drawing you closer to him, it frightens you because you’re so unsure of his feelings.

“So do you have a special someone? Maybe this generous Twi’lek? She was very beautiful.” You tease, doing your best to hide the jealousy in your tone.

“Twi’leks get me in trouble,” his eyes never leave your face, watching the temperature reading on your body shift as his words poke at your brain, “Do you not speak Mando’a?”

He feels your laugh reverberate off his chest plate, “Of course, I don’t speak Mando’a. I hardly know Rodian and I grew up in a Rodian’s mechanic shop.” You chuckle slightly unsure of what he’s going to say next, “I am pretty good with droidspeak, not that's any help around you.”

“I’m sure it’ll come in handy sometime. You’ve become a very important part of our little…” he pauses for a second as if looking for the right word, “crew. I’m very thankful for the way you look after the child. He likes you.”

You smile softly, eyes growing heavier by the moment as the warmth of the alcohol settles in your cheeks. “You’ve been very kind to me Mando, for a Wookie.”

“You’ve got me. I’m the galaxy’s shortest Wookie, who also happens to be a Mandalorian quite the story. Maybe I should write a holodrama.” His dry humor surprises you, but your heart thumps in your chest as you ask a question that has been bouncing around your mind since you met him.

“What is the story? I don’t know how much you know or what you’re allowed to say. But who’s the man behind the mask?” You let your finger run over the center of his chest plate feeling the ridge rise and fall with each breath.

“I don’t remember much, I was a foundling like the child.” he takes a deep breath as if chasing your hand as it pulls away to adjust your pillow.

“I’m sorry.” Your heart swells in your chest, you’ve seen him interact with the child and the love he carries for his covert. It moves you to know that this skilled and deadly man lying in front of you is also the best possible thing to have happened to you and that he has brought with him the adorable little man you’ve grown to love. “Thank you, for everything you’ve done for me. I think you and the little guy are the best things to happen to me.”

You’ve never wanted to see his face so badly. It’s as if you’re feeling your relationship with him shift, feeling the need to be closer to him with every passing beat of your heart.

Goosebumps spread across your skin when his hand comes to rest on top of yours between your faces, “Cyar’ika, I don’t know where else the adventures with the little one will take us but I hope, after he’s reunited with his kind, I can still find more places in the galaxy to show you.”

Your chest constricts, trapping a light gasp you suppress. “What does Cyar’ika mean?” The air in the room is electric, and you can feel each nerve in your body brim with energy like you’re ready to combust.

The only word you can use to describe his tone is bashful, the faceless man smiling the word, “Sweetheart.”

You surge closer to him, aching to kiss him before catching yourself, his hand finding up to your face and tilting your forehead to his. The cool metal only makes you realize just how warm your skin is. “I can’t take it off, but this is a Mandalorian kiss.” He runs his thumb across your cheek soothingly, “I will kiss you mesh’la, that is more of a need than a promise.”

You nod, not able to help the rush of need overwhelming your thoughts. You wanted to see him, feel his skin under your hands for the first time, and you wanted the taste of blue-milk pancakes off his tongue. You gulp, “Am I allowed to touch you?” You lift a corner of his chest plate in question.

The bed moves and dips beneath you, and before your heart can stop you hear the clang of his armor hitting the ground. The helmet hisses out a groan as his body presses against yours, the flight suit and your tunic the only barrier between your wanting skin and his. Briefly considering turning on the light, just so you could get a glimpse of your companion, you hesitate for a moment before you let your fingers run over the endlessly broad expanse of his chest.

The first thing you clock is his warmth against your palm, then you feel it rise and fall with his breath, the clip of his heart echoing with your own. You let your hand shift, more confident now, creep up to the back of his neck letting your fingers run over the little bit of hair peeking from below his helmet, his body tensing for a brief moment before practically keening into your touch. “I want to feel your skin, my sweet girl.”

You nod, sitting up briefly to lift the tunic over your head the cool air of the room immediately sending a shiver up your spine. His gloved hand ghosts up your side, every nerve in your body being coaxed into submission by his finger. He caresses your cheek, and you’re stunned by its size and the tender swipes of his thumb over your lips before he’s pressing it into your mouth. Instinct kicks in and your teeth bite at the soft leather offering a small tug, you are rewarded with a muffled groan.

His hand slips out of the glove with ease, immediately falling to caress your breasts, pinching your nipple between his fingers. You gasp as the sharp jolt of pain turns to pleasure as he soothes the sensitive bud with his thumb. “So beautiful, so soft.”

Blush continues to heat your cheeks and you nervously laugh, “Can you see?” your voice is a little timid as you feel the shift of his gaze wrack over your body through the emotionless veil of his visor.

“Everything mesh’la,” The strain in his voice is a warning before he’s pulling your body flush against his, “beautiful.” He offers the translation this time and the adjective seeps into your skin with each caress of his hands over the rises and falls of your curves.

You try to count the fingers that are touching you, you feel for scales, tentacles, and even the hairy palms of a Wookie. All you discern is warmth and tenderness, nerves on fire making you unable to sit still.

You press your forehead against his helmet, attempting to urge him to move on. “Can I see your skin?” You let your hands toy with the zipper at the base of his throat, letting your fingers brush over sparse but coarse rough hair and warm skin. Does he have a beard?

“I don’t want the lights to wake the child.” His pram sits a few feet away, “Next time.”

You nod, pulling the zipper down lightly asking for permission, he moves away from you but pulls up to sit straight as he stands. His body towers over you, and you let your hand tug the zipper down a few inches, barely able to discern the swell of his pectoral muscles, and the delicious hollow above his collarbones. You run your fingers over the rigid muscle tone of his chest, lavishing in the soft skin, fingers brushing over a rougher patch, a scar, or a birthmark.

“It doesn’t hurt, it was from a bounty on Yavin-7.” You nod, gently tracing over the raised skin, wondering what other old wounds you could soothe and memorize, each little story behind the marks on his body. Pulling the zipper down to his hips, you see the dark contrast of his briefs against his skin, a moan catches in the back of your throat. You reach to push the fabric of the flight suit off his shoulders, but he beats you to it, stepping out the pant legs and pulling his arms free.

“Keep your hands on me, please.” He guides your hands over his abdomen, the dip of his navel, the waistband of his underwear. He pauses, asking for permission to continue, your heart slams in your chest, the need to satisfy him in any way possible the only thing on your mind. Your hand brushes over the length, pleasantly taken aback by his size. Your thumb rubs small light circles over the head of his cock while staring up towards his visor. You’re unable to make anything other than his silhouette out, but you feel his gaze steady and hot on your exposed bodies, watching your every move.

“See what you do to me Cyar’ika?” His hips push against your hand, his voice as breathless as you feel, “It’s all for you sweet girl, take what you want.”

Not wasting any precious time, you lean forward slightly, letting your tongue run across his length clocking the slight shutter to his breath through the modulator. A trail of wet, open-mouth kisses follows as you let a finger trace over the waistband half teasing and a half asking for him to remove them.

When you lift your hand a moment, you blink and they’re around his ankles then gone, discarded in the cloud of darkness that surrounds the two of you. His cock bobs, aching and dripping in front of you and you hurry, falling to your knees, to suck down the beads of precome he offers you.

“Maker,” husk sounds fall his helm and reverberate in your ears, “I’ve never done this before.” When you pull away from him slightly, he chokes out, “Had someone’s mouth on me like that. Never had time. Please.”

Not one to deny him, at least not this time, you let your tongue swirl over the sensitive head of his cock before taking it into your mouth. His abdomen tenses under your palms and his hips lift to push further into your mouth on instinct, you adjust accordingly swallowing around him eagerly. You begin to move your head in time with his short shallow thrusts, taking as much of him as you can bare without gagging at first, wanting him to be as comfortable as possible.

You hold his hips steady as you lower your mouth further, relaxing your throat and tears brimming as you try and take as much of him as possible, your jaw aching and throat constricting around him as you struggle to accommodate his girth. His fingers find purchase on your scalp, tangling in your hair and pulling lightly.

Letting him take control you relax further, flattening your tongue to add more pressure to the underside of his cock, milking more of that salty precome down your throat as his thrusts grow rougher spurred on by your eager moans.

He pulls away after a few moments, panting and staring at the obscene sight of your lips swollen and wet with spit that dribbles onto your chest. He pushes your body up onto the bed, fingers running through your drenched folds, you find yourself writhing against him aching for any stimulation he offers you.

He brushes a skilled thumb over your clit, listening intently for a hitch in your breath he may or may not have heard from your bunk too many times to count.

You throw an arm to cover your eyes, focusing on the way he rubs small focused circles over your clit, moving every so often to gather your slick from your core, before circling back up. Fighting the urge to beg and fuck yourself against his hand, you whine low and desperate.

“What is it, sweetheart?” His tone is almost taunting like he’s pulling you up to the precipice of climax on sheer luck alone. “Is there something you need?” He swipes over your entrance before sinking two digits to the hilt and immediately curling it up pushing against the spongy spot inside you that makes your vision white. He draws out your first orgasm of the night expertly, your legs shaking with the force of the sudden release.

A thin sheen of sweat covers your skin, making your hair cling to your neck and forehead and breath coming out in shaking gasps. “You’re more beautiful than ever mesh’la.” If there was excess blood in your body, it was in your cheeks, you weren’t sure of the look on his face but he was smug and proud of the mess you made for him in his voice.

He pulls his fingers from you, and his hand disappears and you hear a moan from above you, “So fucking good, sweet girl.” You struggle to comprehend his words when you’re pulled to the edge of the bed, legs falling apart in desperation.

His hands ghost over your breasts again, coaxing your body as if he was guiding it with string. If you didn’t know any better you’d think his helmet needed repairs, the gruff static of his breath washed over your body, wondering how much detail he could gather from the gaze of the helm. He circled your navel, bringing a single finger up to the tip of your chin and tilting it up.

A bright flash of light blinds you. You flinch away, trying to let your eyes adjust. The first thing you see is a tan human appearing hand spreading across your chest possessively. You can see the goose flesh littered across your skin, but when you try and look at the Mandalorian's helm the light obscures your vision.

You make out a familiarly broad chest, a tampered but muscular abdomen, and a light trail of dark hair partially obscured by his thick heavy cock bobbing angrily in time with his movements.

He sinks his fingers back into you. A small plea falls from your mouth, fists gathering the comforter at your sides. He’s gentler this time, he works at an agonizingly slow pace. Scissoring and twisting his fingers under the harsh scrutiny of his tactical light, lifting his free hand to rub delicately over your overstimulated clit.

It takes every ounce of self-control to not crawl away from him, the sensitivity almost unbearable, but his movements are seductive. Like the movements of his hands are rewarding you with each passing stroke of the pain.

Slowly you begin to grind against him, shifting your hips so you can almost bounce on his hand aiming for the spot you know he’s avoiding. You’re writhing under him before you know it, filthy pleas and whines are spoken outside of your consciousness. It’s not until the brink of your second orgasm that you realize the words are coming from you.

His pace is steady and unrelenting, the fire in your belly building with each passing second. He notices the roll of your hips becoming more dramatic and your jaw falling slack in a silent cry. “Make some noise for me Mesh’la. Cum for me before I fuck you as I’ve dreamed about.”

You try to focus your vision on the flex of his arm and the veins straining under his skin, but his cock is the real star of the show. Thick and glistening with a mixture of your saliva and his precome. You’re eager to feel him splitting you open, to know the way his cock feels when it sputters rope upon rope of cum inside of you.

The thought of being filled by him sends you over the edge, your orgasm careening through your body as you thrash against him again. A rush of your cum coats his fingers, and you watch closer this time as the helm tilts up and his fingers disappear and presumably sink into his mouth.

He moans, swearing under his breath and fisting his dick in his free hand. You struggle to hold your head up to watch, your neck and body exhausted.

Your chest rises and falls as he strokes himself under the harsh light of his helm, before letting the head of his cock trace your entrance. Gathering your wetness on the tip he brushes over your hypersensitive clit, a smug huff coming from the strong man above you.

The gaze of his helmet is heavy and delectable as you arch, displaying your body and the spoils of your release for him, silently begging for more.

Finally, he sinks into you in one slow and satisfying push, both of your moans mixing as you fight to sit up, wanting to see him seated inside you completely.

You throw an arm around his neck for support, the shift in angle making the impossible stretch even more delightful. He bends and presses the cold metal bite of his helm to your forehead, another kiss. You follow the tilt of the beskar down to the glorious view of your pussy flushed and glistening, covered in your cum being absolutely split open by his thick cock.

The two of you watch enamored as he slowly pulls out, sick squelches echoing in the quiet room as he continues to work you open. “Mesh’la,” he picks up the pace, the pleasure quickly overwhelming your brain. “Fuck this might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

His praising words weaken your posture, feeling the adoration wash over your skin like you would stroke a loth cat, coaxing you to relax and fall against the mattress; mouldable clay under his breathless flattery. The long strokes feel like ecstasy each one making your fists furl tightly into the sheets.

He shifts your body slightly, lifting you so your ass is partially dangling off the bed, allowing him to pitch his hips up into you. You feel his hands settle on your lower belly, applying a soft pressure before he picks up his pace, fucking up against your g-spot with sniper-like precision.

Fuck.

The change of angle has your muscles limp, unable to do anything but revel in the pressure building in your gut. Even staring into the black abyss of the ceiling, you feel his stare fixated on the movement of your breasts in pace with his hips.

He swears under his breath, something in a language you don’t understand, but he brings a hand to rest on your throat, you keen, exposing yourself more.

A man of his capabilities wrapping a hand around your neck should bring panic and fear to your heart, but instead, a rush of liquid pours out of you, coating your thighs and his abdomen glistens with your release smearing between the two of you as he follows suit, pushing deep and spilling into your spent cunt with a modulated groan.

His shoulders fall slightly, visibly exhausted and tense with sensitivity. You let out a small giggle at the nervous tension growing between the two of you. The helmet quirks to the side defensively, and you quickly add “Thank you.”

He lets out a dry chuckle, “Thank you?” your cheeks warm as he caresses the line of your waist with a single finger, “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time, I should be the one saying thank you.”

Catching his hand in yours, you offer a reassuring squeeze. “I’ve wanted it too, must’ve been the language barrier.”

He pulls his softening cock from you, letting the light fall to the sight of his cum sliding out of you before clicking off and your vision going with it. You give him a moment to move around you before pulling yourself to lean against the headboard.

The fresher light kicks on as din walks to the sink, finally getting a good glimpse of the crisp muscular lines of his body as the fluorescent lights highlight them artfully. “Can you bring me a-”

“Beat you to it.” He turns to hold a damp cloth in his hands. The muscles in his arms are prominent and lead your gaze to the rows of corded muscles that stretch through his pecks. The light dissipates as he crosses the threshold again.

Suppressing a frown you let him clean your thighs, and as he discards the towel you find the courage to speak your mind, “You’re pretty mesh’la yourself Mando.”

You take the shy wheeze from under the helmet to heart, enthralled to be so close to him that the words straight from his breath fall to your ears.

“Say it again.”

[themanwhomadeamonster]

The 1999 combat theme and its foreshadowing because the autism got to me and I spent too long trying to figure out this soundtrack

Jumping off from @brokenjardaantech's WITW music analysis post here - go check it out, it's very insightful and lays the foundations for what I'm about to talk about! And thanks to @theterribletenno for the burst of inspiration by giving me a massive oh shit realisation in the most chilling way possible LOL

Spoilers under the read-more; TL;DR at the end :'^D

To preface, the soundtrack is structured in an ABC structure with bridges between A and B, as well as another between B and C that borrows from A. The key starts in Cm, briefly modulating to Gm in section B then back to Cm during the second bridge, and settling on Em for section C. In-game for WITW you most likely will only hear up to the first bridge since the Technocyte fight only goes for around a minute long

Sections A, the bridges and partially C feature genre similarities to grunge rock with fuzzy guitar chugging, whammy bar, and palm muting, while the drums are notably sharp snares (except for the first bridge, which are clean bass kicks that gradually distort transitioning into section B's style). Musically, it sounds like a typical fighting soundtrack meant to hype you up - the melody is confident and likes to push and pull its rhythm. But in section C it notably become emptier in its layering while keeping the distorted drums, placing emphasis on the lyrics (which I'll get to below lol). Heavier syncopation and polyrhythms are also introduced.

Section B however is the main outlier. This section is where it most strongly resembles industrial rock: rhythmic synth layers begin to accompany the melody (a pedal point line that plays every semiquaver/sixteenth note), synth drums replace acoustics and the guitars drop the fuzz that is characteristic of grunge and steadily strum every quaver/eighth note. Compared to the push and pull rhythm of section A, this section is steadier, less chaotic than the other sections, it wants you to focus on this section.

Notably, the lead guitar introduces a familiar leitmotif: This is What You Are (which @brokenjardaantech goes more in depth regarding its use in WITW). Here, though, its second chord becomes flattened (Dm -> D♭m) and introduces a diminished, dissonant sound. To me this was the first hint that the song may actually be about Arthur's downfall. This is What You Are is a musical leitmotif that recurs in moments of vulnerability, especially when someone is at risk of losing their sense of self, their identity and what they are. It plays during The Second Dream when we discover the Operator, during the New War when Eidolon!Lotus just lost herself to Ballas and can't recognise the Tenno, and in WITW during the Vessel "fight" when the Tenno is forced out of their Warframe.

I was prompted to actually dig more into the lyrics because I saw @theterribletenno bring up something really interesting

In this specific song, the leitmotif is diminished, it's corrupted. "Surrender to the corruption" - this is what Arthur is afraid of. I brought up earlier that section B had a genre shift. The contrast of the music is important, it's highlighting something, and together with the musicality of the leitmotif, it's making a sense of urgency and danger. The leitmotif is a warning to Arthur.

Section B sings these lyrics:

Break it, break it, Break it open!

Compared to the desperation in the other lines, these two lines are sung mockingly. The Infested are trying to break Arthur, and are succeeding. Their voice is becoming his. But there are actually two vocal lines in this section - you can also hear muted backing vocals in a much less aggressive and lethargic tone warning that "Disillusion". Arthur is trying so hard to keep his own voice and stay clear-minded but it's being drowned out and he's nearing his breaking point, and Albrecht, based on the Codex Fragments you find, is well aware of this.

In section C, while the layering is less intense it's noticeably more heavily syncopated and polyrhythmic, and introduces new (accompanying) echoing and dissonant synth layers reflecting the confusion and disorientation that Arthur begins to feel (these synth layers are actually introduced in the second bridge, but are more easily heard in section C). Section B and C also keep the synth/distorted drums that section A and both bridges lack (at most it's a reverb in those sections); the industrial sound of the song becoming associated with the increasing influence of the Infested over his humanity.

So I tried deciphering more lyrics for each section; I haven't figured all of it out and most of it could very well be wrong because of how heavily clipped the vocal line intentionally is so I don't want to make anymore assumptions than I need to, but I can understand enough of it to realise that the song is foreshadowing Arthur's corruption to the Infested. In green are the lyrics I'm confident are correct:

A:

Sting it, sting it, sting it! Sting it, sting it, sting it in the flesh!

Bridge:

I don't understand! It brings more disease!

B:

Break it, break it, Break it open! (Disillusion)

Bridge:

Sting it, sting it! Sting it in the flesh!

C:

Who's dreaming? Who's the [???] It's a vision[?]!

TL;DR: the grunge/industrial genre hybrid represents Arthur's humanity/Infested respectively, and the song becomes increasingly industrial as the song progresses, most noticeably through the increasing distortion of the drum sound. Section A sets the stage, section B serves as a warning to Arthur that he's losing his sense of identity as the Infestation drowns out his "voice" while a dissonant version of This is What You Are plays, and section C is him experiencing confusion and disorientation as the Infestation continues to corrupt him.

[celestial-lions-den]

In retrospect, one of my big complaints about D&D 5e is that while it is a good system if you want a very casual dungeon delving experience, it also tried to stretch itself too thin and be a Universal Storytelling System when it was really... not.

Ignoring that WotC's sourcebooks and campaign modules always feel underbaked, about half of them feel like they would benefit from being ported to other ttrpg systems. Curse of Strahd desperately wishes it were in actual horror system, like Call of Cthulu or Bluebeard's Brides. But instead it's a D&D 5e game. So it ends up feeling incredibly halfassed. Especially once the characters reach Level 5+ and can whammy most combat encounters.

The Wild Beyond the Witchlight campaign advertizes itself as an exploration/roleplay heavy game with a great focus on whimsy and lighthearted atmosphere. Which is admitedly a very nice change of pace from the kinds of game's you normally get out of D&D. But the problem is that it's still attached to the 5e system. Which is like. At least 75% rules for combat and loot. So there's no interesting mechanics to work with for a game without those things.

Those are just two of the biggest examples I can think of. I'm sure others have had similar experiences. Idk I have a lot of other criticisms of the system. But I don't want to make this post super long. So i might just make a little series of these.

[1-50thofabuck]

Need feedback for first release/minor updates

It's not what was planned as a "first release," but it seemed like the easiest adventure I've written to rework quickly into a publishable form. Of course, it took a lot longer as I kept finding things to alter or ideas to add! I need commentators and proofreaders. Any help you're willing to offer will get your name on the front page as a thanks. The module will be released for free once finalized. Anyone interested in reading through and offering suggestions, fixes, and so forth? Let me know! I'll send you a PDF or a link to a Google doc, your choice! So, please let me know if you'd like to check this out! Anything you want to help with or "contribute" will be appreciated!

A synopsis: a cavern and mine dating to prehistoric times, reputed to be haunted by a banshee, has led to death and suffering each time anyone has attempted to reclaim it. Now, goat-headed fomorians and other horrors are flocking to it to serve the dark being that has revealed itself. As their numbers swell, aided by a spying bandit cultist and his unwitting accomplices from town, the number and power of monsters in the area has increased, ruining trade and travel, yet due to a calamity in a nearby town, the influx of needy individuals has continued. This unfortunate situation is made the more sorrowful for the many desperate refugees that have been lost to the vicious creatures whose frequency and strength have grown. As if all this is not enough, the falling of a star has unleashed a terror from beyond. Trade, travel, and pilgrimages have been all but cut off; economic disaster looms as the number of needy continue to increase; cultists set traps, goblin tribes kidnap and enslave, something that fell from the sky devours all in its path, and all the while, fomorians gather together and plan for a war to retake the land that was once theirs.

In other news, I completed half of an "All the World's Monsters" readthrough entry, but gave it a rest to work on the adventure module I'm previewing here! Also because it was getting a bit frustrating as it became increasingly more difficult to review some of the atrocities in that book without being overly negative(they get real dumb, with about 10 "alignment: hungries" in a row!). Aside from that, since the posts I make here are a mixture of materials and general posts, I'm going to add an index to the website of the posts here that are actually relevant such as adventures, monsters, NPCs, graphics or anything else potentially useful for a GM, as opposed to the ones about kickstarters or whatnot. I'll index readthroughs there as well.

[skullhaver]

for athren!! 2, 13, 19, 45, 61

aww thank you for asking!! for anyone wondering, Athren Dahana is my fifth level drow rogue (swashbuckler) currently in the final act of Waterdeep: Dragon Heist 2. What was your original concept for this character? How did playing them change that concept?

Well, I knew the module was called "Waterdeep: Dragon Heist" so my initial idea was to make somebody daring, ambitious, and comfortable with theft. My rough sketch of who Athren was came in the form of "wouldn't it be funny and charming to be a surfacer drow who grew up in the Underdark, with a good relationship to his still-living parents who ALSO live with him on the surface. And he steals shit to fund their retirement."

His core concept never changed, but the biggest surprise from playing Athren was discovering that he has these intensely competing drives for security/anonymity, and lust for adventure/renown. Dragon Heist is a module that has the PCs rubbing elbow with powerful factions and powerful individuals, and Athren spent a lot of the adventure both desperately wanting to prove himself but also feeling like a small fish in a big pond, and thus being very polite and cautious with the people we interfaced with. If anything, he proved to be a lot more cautious/paranoid than I initially expected him to be, although that fits well with his backstory.

13. What are some motifs you associate with them? Did you intentionally bring in those motifs or did it happen over time?

Definitely that security vs. adventure inner conflict, as mentioned. Another motif that emerged unexpectedly was Athren consistently feeling nurturing/older brother-like to people around him. In terms of relative ages, he's only a bit older than the other characters (early 30s vs late teens and early 20s) but's so protective of them. Especially our teen half-elf warlock Thia, who jokingly calls Athren "grandpapa" because he's hundreds of years old as an elf, but also the way she's taken an interest in thieving and sleight of hand genuinely makes him proud. 🥲 And that's not even getting into the three orphan kids this party adopted.

Athren thinks of himself as a selfish person, and proudly so, but the circle of "my people who I'll stick my neck out to protect" has expanded beyond just his parents. 19. What sparks genuine, unadulterated rage in them?

I truly appreciate the ways that we have created our own version of Faerun (and in particular, the Underdark) that lesson the constant specter of slavery present in the world as written, but wherever slavery exists in our world, that injustice would get full rage from Athren, for sure. Wherever people's labor and lives are taken advantage of, he has the least patience.

45. What lies do they tell themselves?

"Thia is responsible for herself and can make her own decisions, therefor I would not weep like a baby if the Stone of Golorr eats her brain or something."

61. Is there an in-game moment of theirs you think about and just laugh?

The obvious answer is finding the blank piece of paper in Urstil Floxin's pocket and suggesting a dozen outlandish ways it could be enchanted or have invisible ink or something, only to remember sessions later that it was the fucking blank paper bird that our party sent him. Rae you were so fucking funny for this.

My latest Athren quip that I'm pleased by is, "It's an all-knowing stone, not an all-telling stone."

[proveimalive]

Whoops! I'm ruining my own life

First time using this account in... 8 years? Maybe more, I don't know. So here's where we're at- I graduated university two years ago. Ended up working a job at a hotel that was a fucking nightmare. Ended up in the hospital due to substance abuse. Have since gotten a handle on said abuse. Am now in therapy, take ADHD meds. Have problems sleeping.

Got a job at the THeatre Royal. Been working there (and at the Dome) for 1.5 years now. Time flies. Made new friends, reignited my love for performance.

Got accepted to the London Film academy for an MA in screenwriting. Thought I could use that creative writing degree for something more substancial. It's £16,000. Can't afford it with what I'm earning.

Desperate to move out of my house. Can't spend anothert year stuck here, in this house, at this job, in the city. Need a fresh start. Need to earn more for that fresh start. Need to make a decision on what MA I'm going to do.

I miss studying, but I don't want to stay in Brighton. I want to be away and out, in London, in the centre of it all. Don't care if it's a shit hole. Just want somewhere to stay while I figure my life out.

Have a list of things I want to try, and limited time to try it. Thinking and thinking and thinking about what I want to do with my life is getting me nowhere. It's been revealed to me that I am not the sort of person who knows my own mind as well as I thought. I think I want something, and then I try it and the reality is completely different. I know that doing an MA is going to be much more work than I think. And what I learned from my degree- unless I really, really care about something, I have no hope in hell of achieving it. I need to want this or it won't work.

On a comedy kick at the moment, so want to try out some improv. Maybe some comedy writing. Think that could be fun and is something I like.

Want to try acting again. Doing an actual production. Think that could be fun.

I'm less anxious now, much healthier. I'm in a better place to do these things.

Screenwriting doesn't excite me that much. It sounds interesting, and cool, if it was a module I'd enjoy it. I think about uni and the things that stuck with me are these- writing a TV show with friends, and our comedy module. Both were more fun then I ever would have thought. I loved it, and it made me happy. Shame pandemic fucked us all over. Oh well.

Maybe look into comedy writing MAs, or just comedy writing courses.

I have enough to justify the expense. I'm tired of sitting here doing nothing day after day. I live and breathe and eat and do research, think, work, sleep. But I want to create. I want to throw myself into it and produce something. I think for years I thought I needed to fill a void. And I do. But external things don't work as well as creating something myself does.

Comedy, comedy, comedy. Wiritng. Acting. Producing. Directing. Productions. Running TV shows? I don't know.

Fuck. I wish I could make up my mind. I wish the answer could come to me in a huge rush and I'd go, "bingo. That. That's what I want to do with my life".

And of course, there's always the dream of living and working on a boat for a year. Which is becoming increasingly appealing.

All the "dreams" I have are just that- dreams. Because the reality is never what you think it'll be. Sometimes it is. Sometimes it's just a waste of time. Sometimes it's dissapointing. Sometimes it IS what you thought it would be, but then are hit with the reality that it's not making you as happy as you hoped.

Fuck me. I feel like I'm running out of time. I'm only 23, but it feels like the clock is ticking somehow. Like if I don't make a choice in the next few months, that's it. I'm stuck for another year, walking in circles, running on the spot.

I want to pick a destination and just drive full speed towards it. But instead I'm just parked on the side of the road, watching all the other cars go by, jealous of some. Staring at this map in my hands that's just a fain quiggle of lines and feeling confused and empty.

What's stopping me from setting off. I'm afraid that if I don't pick the "right" destination, I'll end up driving aimlessly from place to place, hating every single one. Even if I do enjoy my time there, if it's not "right", then I'm wasting my time. I'm wasting my life.

You might think well, how can you be? As long as you're enjoying it, then it's not wasted. That's what life is, right? Doing what makes you happiest day by day, and everything else is just a bonus.

The problem is that on a day to day basis, I'm not that happy. Life doesn't make me that happy. It makes me stressed and tired and bored and empty, and I've tried to fill that emptiness as best I can. Running from the feeling of existential dread that won't leave me be. Trying to fill the void with whatever distraction I can. To take away from the fact that I feel I am tethred to the earth by a fraying piece of rope, and I just want to come back down to land. But there's a part of me that just wants to let go and float away. Can't do that.

I feel like an astronaut fighting to keep in contact with planet earth. Sending through garbled messages and squinting through my helmet, trying to focus on what's happening down below. Like if I can stare hard enough, watch for long enough, it's almost like I'm there.

I know that I'm here. I just don't always feel like I am. I feel panicked, like any second something bad will happen. Any second it will all collapse and the tenuous balance or peace I've found will vanish. It's all very existential and over dramatic but I'm nothing if not both of those things.

So where to start? Do what I do best, I guess. figure it out on the fly.

I think doing a trial run at Mark and Chris's house would be good too. Get some experience living alone again. I think that might be a good test to see how I'm doing. If it goes poorly, I can always bring it up in therapy.

It's a sickness, a panic that seeps up from my stomach. Like the whole world has forgotten about me. Out, of sight, out of mind. Like I stop existing if I'm not being perceived. Maybe that's why I like the idea of being in a group so much. They have no choice. They're bound to me. I exist.

I exist.

Because I feel I have no worth unless I have worth to others. Is that the void I'm trying to fill? I can't be happy unless I'm kaing other people happy? Fuck me. that's a lonely, tiring life.

But I feel empty and vacant. Trying to be human as best I can.

I know all is not lost. I know these thoughts are obsessions born from an insecure childhood and that there is so much more out there. I just know I need to move. I'm a deer caught in the headlights, watching, waiting, and if I don't move I'm going to get hit. I'm a frog in a pan of water, and I'm going to drown or be boiled alive. I need to move. There's no other option.

The only thing I can control is which direction I jump. So really, does it matter? If nothing matters and it could all fall apart, who gives a shit. Who really cares. I have to jump or I'll die, so just pick something and GO. If it doesn't work out at least I moved.

Deep dramatic sigh. Breathe.

I can do this. It won't be easy but I can do it. Whatever I choose, it will be equal parts right and wrong. Some more boring or disastrous than others but each a chapter for this very long dull book. I just want to make sure there are enough highlights for a good memoir at the end, and I won't get that from doing what I'm doing now.

Got a grip on the alcoholism. Sorted the anxiety out. Got new friends. Lost a tonne of weight. Blood pressure and heart health is good. Got back in reading and writing.

Now I just need to do a but of actual living and I'll be on a roll.

So I should end this one here. Because that's enough typing and thinking for one day. You can only do what you can do. I just want to make sure that in the end, i do right by me. Little me deserves that at least.

Time to go take a shower, watch taskmaster, reply to my 7 friends and go for a speed walk in the dark listening to a spooky podcast. Can't beat the high life.

28/01/2024

[annabellerandfilmblog]

Wednesday 14th September

Today was my first lecture for my Workflow and Creative Camera Techniques module. I was told about how to book equipment for my projects and began to break down the module into how we would begin and carry forward throughout this term.

I was then shown the store room before being put into my production group. We began to brainstorm for our upcoming exercise where we must shoot a short, one minute video of a person completing a task, twice, once using rule of thirds and the next using centre framing. My group and I had a lot of outlandish suggestions, such as, a man pouring oil into his cereal and even a request to eat a Kit-Kat the entirely wrong and ungodly way. But inspiration struck when one of my group members, Mary, got cold and decided to put her hoodie back on. We then swiftly decided, that though our first impressions may have been interesting, our best bet was to keep it simple.

This is when we came up with the concept of a person trying to put their hoodie on, but not quite figuring our which appendage goes through which hole in an infuriating sequence. We thought this would give us enough room to incorporate different shots and give us room to play with the two compositional techniques as the simplicity of the task could be emphasised and or enhanced by the cinematography we explored.

When I made it home, I was able to watch a documentary called "They've Gotta Have Us" about the pioneers of black cinema and their importance and influence upon modern day diversity in the film industry. I found their insights on people such as Spike Lee fascinating and truly powerful. It really emphasised the importance of film and how the art I choose to make can truly change the way the world thinks if I find the most important stories that I can truthfully share.

I'm not sure if our sequence about a hoodie will truly make that kind of a statement (although we did joke that our protagonists desperate need for a jumper could be a comment on the current cost of living crisis), I do think this will pave the way for us to truly make films that matter.

[balmasedas]

dearly departed. /

(gif is not mine).

PAIRING: din djarin x force sensitive!f-reader.

SUMMARY: au of 2x8 where reader exists instead of grogu (i'm sorry, baby).

WARNINGS: very slight description of torture, violence and blood. major angst.

WORD COUNT: 5k.

——————————————————————————

One day felt like a year.

A week onboard the light cruiser was hell and Moff Gideon was proven to be worse than the devil.

You’d barely slept and hunger constantly gripped your belly. You didn’t felt the urge to scream or to even beg for help, those instincts were long dead by now.

They were fascinated. A real Jedi or, at the very least, a live one, still yet to be properly trained (if you managed to survive this). So it wasn’t a surprise that because of their evil nature and in the name of “curiosity” you were obliged to use the Force until you fainted, over and over again. 

It was a tragedy. In search of what would’ve been your home, you had found one with Din Djarin; and now the memories you'd learned to cherish seemed so far away in time that you started to doubt your mind.

(,,,)

Din sat against a rock; while you rested your back against his chest and between his legs. Just the two of you, the sound of the crackling fire and endless stars above your heads. You felt so little and yet, at the same time, that there was nothing that could stop you from conquering the entire galaxy.

“You got this.” his modulated voice came out lower than usual. 

“Sh!” you silenced him with a half-smile. Your hand was extended, just a couple of meters away a small rock floated in the air, slowly approaching you. You’d tried it at least a dozen times and this one, you decided, would be the last. 

Silence crept over you both. Too expectant to breathe for a few seconds. 

You were certain, so confident. Then, fear invaded you. Your hand started to shake and so did the rock. You could feel yourself slowly losing control, anticipating a seemingly inevitable failure. You didn’t trust your power, having always been relegated to abandoning your true identity for your own (and everyone’s) safety. 

Luckily, Din did have hope in you, and although he respected your wishes of quietness during this moment, it didn’t mean he couldn’t try to ease your mind through other means. After all, the Mandalorian felt more comfortable with actions than he felt with words. 

So he snuck his hand beneath your hair and softly rubbed his thumb behind your ear, a soothing caress he often offered when you needed comfort.

It wasn’t a revelation that then, and only then, you felt enough peace to stabilize the Force and finally close your hand around the object.

“Oh!” both your eyes and mouth were wide open. You half turned towards Din — you were drunk in elation, still not wanting to miss the warmness of his body. “I got it!” you burst. You met his visor, but you could sense his eyes on you. 

“What did I say?” he spoke. “You got this.”

You got this. 

You got this.

“I got this,” you mumbled, trying to hold on to comforting words carefully sheltered in your head.

You had been a prisoner of your own body for over a week now. Traveling only from your cell to the room you were currently held and vice versa. Having to extend your arm obediently when you were told so and use your powers as well. 

Truth be told, there was nothing else you could do, except trying to keep your mind busy and start processing the facts: there were no (nor there would be) allies to your cause. You were alone and whatever the remains of the Empire had in store for you was still yet to be revealed. 

Din would come for you, you were sure of that, but some hopeless part of your now broken soul was unsure he’d make it in time.

The door from your cell opened. A couple of troopers marched towards you. Between them, the man in the white coat you’d regularly seen since your arrival. He introduced himself by squeezing your arm, it was supposed to be gentle. 

He wouldn't have done the same if you weren't cuffed and strapped into a stretcher. You thought about breaking free. Your hands around his neck, fear instead of the cockiness his eyes currently harbored. 

The urge was sharp and violent and you enjoyed it while it lasted.

“How are you doing?” Like shit. You remained impassible. 

He opened a case he’d been carrying and laid out the contents on a tray next to the bed. You knew what it was, you wish you didn’t. Needles of different sizes, scalpers, and syringes. 

You winced when he took a needle and fitted it into a large syringe.

He smiled at you. "Be a good girl and stay still, will you?"

Fuck you. “Okay.” Even though you complied, both troopers were ordered to hold you down.

As usual, every movement from that moment was processed in slow motion. The doctor hovering the needle just a few millimeters over your skin, then, the hard cold steel piercing it. First a pinch; as it went deeper, burn; then ache. You wanted to trash but you couldn��t. 

Your vision swam, and your head went thick. “It’s done.” was the last thing you heard before you blacked out. 

(,,,)

“Are you seeing anything? Or are they supposed to see you?” Din queried, looking around.

You were sitting on top of the Seeing stone, drowned in confusion just like him. Still, you couldn’t help but giggle at his obvious deduction from the name of the place where you currently were.

“Yes, I-” you trailed off and furrowed your brows as you watched him thoroughly inspecting the rock. He was quiet, his thoughts were loud. Or maybe you just knew him too well by then. “… I see you” you tilted your head, reformulating your sentence into a question, “Are you searching for an interrupter, Din?”

He straightened his body and immediately backed away from it “No,” he was quick to deny. You kept your eyes fixated on him, and then a ghost of a smile appeared on your face. Finally, he corrected himself after a defeated sigh, “Yes.” he confessed.

You chuckled. You could’ve kissed him by then, if only you had the chance. 

“I wish Ahsoka Tano would’ve told me more, but that’s not how it works.” 

The Force seemed to be much more complex than you originally thought. And the Jedi you met in Corvus day’s ago should’ve cleared many things —instead, she baffled you, even more, shifting her entire demeanor when she sensed your connection with the Mandalorian. 

Now, you were supposed to make contact with another Jedi without knowing how. 

Din didn’t answer. He had left the previous planet just as frustrated as you, if not more. 

“Well, look at the bright side—” you were cut by the sound of a ship circling the area. Both of you were immediately alarmed by its presence. Din ran to the edge of the mountain and followed it closely with his eyes. An attack craft was no good news. As much as he wished to complete the mission, there was no way he’d risk your safety. Both of you could come back later, he assumed.

He called your name, walking backward. “Time’s up, we gotta go.” he stopped abruptly when he finally turned around and saw you. He’d never seen anything of similar nature. 

Your eyes were shut, strands of your hair floated like feathers in the breeze. Some kind of force shield had been erected around you. He screamed for you again. “Hey! Snap out of it, we gotta get out of here.” but wherever your mind was, it was far away from Tython now.

He even tried to pass through the force shield only to be violently expelled from it.

He grunted. The floor beneath him was hard, the realization he made hit harder: there was no way he could reach you. 

His desperation only could grow when he spotted an unknown subject leaving the craft. “Dank Farrik!” he cursed. His hands were closed in tight fists, his gaze lingered on you. Leaving you was his last preference, he’d promised you he’d never do it until you were safe but it became the only viable option. 

He had no power to interfere in whatever was happening to you up there, but he could take care of the problem on the bottom of that mountain.

Din pulled his blaster from the holder. “I’ll see if I can buy you some time.” he doubted you could hear him, but still he tried. “Can you please hurry up?” there was hesitation in his movement, his steps were slow and uncertain. Walking away from you had never felt so wrong, and yet he had no other choice if he wanted to protect you.

He would later learn that fear, desolation, and regret were very possible and present emotions in him as he could only stand and see the dark troopers taking you away. 

(,,,)

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was your handcuffs.

The second thing was the light reflecting off them. 

Your glance flickered from the Dark saber to Moff Gideon and then to the person he was talking to. 

Until that moment, you weren’t sure if you were awake or hallucinating. But then everything became so real. His armor, his voice. As exhausted as you were, you took your time to caress Din with your eyes. 

He was alive. Whole. Here.

You were in a dream.

He, on the other hand, sensed that his nightmare was far from over. 

“You can keep it, I just want her,” he assured. The object of dispute between Moff Gideon and Bo-Katan had never sparked any interest in him. You were his only priority and his original quest had been long forgotten by then. 

The Moff stood in silence, seemingly analyzing the proposal.

“Very well, I already got what I wanted from her.” he addressed. “All I wanted was to study her blood. You see, the girl is extremely gifted. And has been a blast with rare properties that have the potential to bring order to the galaxy.” 

Din anchored his attention on you. All this talking did nothing but disturb him even more. You were so close and so far. Shut up, he wanted to say. 

Instead, he remained quiet. 

“I see your bond with her.” Din heard it before. Did he also believe what you both had it was dangerous? He didn’t wish or care to know. “Take her. But you will leave my ship immediately and we will go separate ways.”

If Din nodded, you missed it. He took cautious steps towards you. Your heart started to race in anticipation. You could already taste a decent glass of water, the sun kissing your skin, and the end of what was once an endless agony. 

You extended your hand for him to take it. He was only a meter away. 

It seemed so easy.

It would’ve been so easy.

But Moff Gideon bared only greed and darkness in his soul. He surrendered to no one, let alone a Mandalorian.

“No!” your scream ripped through your throat when you saw the Dark saber hovering over Din’s head. He was quick enough to block the hit and the ones that followed after, but the Moff was insatiable and they both disappeared into the hall.

You tugged at the cuffs, trying to get them off but it was impossible. Not when they were neutralizing your power. You were too weak to run, yet you still launched yourself at the door. 

Your legs instantly gave in. You let out a hard groan but didn't stop to recover from the blow. You instantly laid your body on a side and with the own weight of your arms you started dragging yourself on the floor. 

You had no visuals on Gideon and Din, still, the sound of the black saber colliding against beskar outside the room brought you some sense of calm.

They were still fighting, there was still time.

You just had to crawl a little bit more.

But the hallway seemed miles away, you were tired and you'd barely reached the doorframe when all fell silent.

"D–" your voice died before finishing the sentence. The thought of calling him and not receiving an answer infested your mind like a parasite. You wouldn’t survive that memory. 

A rush of adrenaline took over your body, you started moving once again. Frightened, but not hopeless —not yet. 

If Din hadn’t... If Din—

You would make sure to make Gideon pay. Maybe not with your mind, maybe with your own bare hands.

But your revenge would have to wait a few more minutes because someone blocked your path before you could reach the hallway.

Your eyes fixed over the boots in your line of vision. Where those his? You should’ve paid more attention to his clothes. If you did, you wouldn’t be trembling in fear. If you did, you would’ve instantly knew it was him, instead of waiting until he kneeled and reached for you.

He whispered your name. So loving and familiar. So soft it almost went unnoticed. 

Your lips pursed into a tight line, your eyes were filled to the brim with tears. You didn’t want to cry. But your heart felt heavy and all that pain you had accumulated those days had to go somewhere.

It was inevitable to break down. To weep and shake as your thoughts bounced between what could've happened and what didn't.

Din seemed to sense this when he asserted, "I'm here." He quickly took care of the cuffs. You find relief around your wrist, but the pressure didn't seem to budge on your chest. “I’m here.” 

There, on the cold surface of that cell, he hugged you for all the days he couldn’t.

One arm went around your back, his other hand rested against your head, fitting you against his body. You buried your face against his chest. He drew his fingers along the curve of your neck.

The well-known gesture felt completely different. Whereas before the calming effects of it were exclusively destined to you, it seemed that now it was he who needed it the most. He needed to make sure you were there. That you were real, alive, and well.

You vocalized your thoughts once you found the strength to do so, "I thought I lost you."

Din’s arms tightened around you, solid and warm. His heart would’ve broken right there if it weren’t filled with happiness. Your voice was the same. It was home. "No. I'm too stubborn to leave you." had you had the strength to chuckle, you would have. 

You slowly raised your head and, for the first time, observed past his shoulder. You immediately regretted your decision. In the hallway, Moff Gideon laid against the wall, now in shackles, looking straight into your eyes. There was a smirk plastered on his face. 

Din side-glanced the floor. The handcuffs, from which he had freed you, started to shake. Your back, once hunched and languid, was now rigid under his embrace. 

“No,” he muttered. He separated and took your face between his hands. “Look at me.” you ignored him and focused on the man behind him. Gideon’s brow furrowed, his cockiness slowly fading away —the air in his lungs too. "Cyar’ika.” the whisper came out as a plead. His helmet blocked your vision now, his gloved thumbs slid over your cheeks. You blinked the lashes that framed your eyes. They would’ve looked innocent on anyone else. “Don’t. He can’t hurt you no more.” his voice was gentle and reassuring. You believed him. 

He wouldn't hurt you, but he could –and would– hurt Din if given the chance. 

That terrified you, and it was something you couldn't forgive or forget.

Din was waiting for an answer, so you gave him one, “Alright.” Moff Gideon would just have to wait.

You both stared at each other for a moment. You hoped your answer was convincing enough to buy Din's calm. It did, cause he dropped the subject and moved into another, seconds later, “Can you walk?” he asked.

You placed your palm on the floor and held Din's with your other hand. Your legs responded –slowly but steady, you got on your feet.

The Mandalorian held you by the waist, watching with caution until he was sure you could stand by yourself, "We have to go to the bridge" he announced. His voice was low enough to maintain what he was saying between you. “Moff Gideon will go to the front, I’ll stay behind, you can follow me.” you couldn’t tell if it was a proposition or an order. 

“It’s ok. You said it yourself, he can’t hurt me.” Din tittered and shook his head.

“It’s not you who I’m worried about”.

(,,,)

You’d felt at ease once you met the familiar faces that had come to your rescue. Cara didn’t hesitate to hug you when she saw you, while Fennec limited herself to a comradely nod from afar.

Koska and Bo-Katan had been a completely different story. They didn’t take it lightly when they saw Din in possession of the Darksaber. You glanced at Moff Gideon, his victorious grin made much sense then —he knew of the traditions and what gave power to the saber. He also appreciated how Bo-Katan was as obsessed as him with it —purposely sinking his finger in her wounded pride. 

Although Din had yielded, his peace offering was unwelcomed, as well as his intentions to give her the saber. The last thing you needed was internal conflicts, but you were willing to fight anyone if you had to protect the person you'd care about the most.

The rising tension was —luckily or not— shut down by the alarms going off and then Fennec reporting a breach in the ray shields of the ship.

Moff Gideon, with a disgusting proudness in his voice, announced the dark troopers.

Lines formed between your eyebrows, "Dark troopers?"

Fennec took care of your confusion. "Problems." Her answer was vague, but you could deduce from it, at least, the essential: you'd have to fight against them —inhuman killing machines that doubled your size. The chances of winning were minimal, but you couldn't have gotten this far only to surrender.

You approached the screens and took a seat in front of them. The dark troopers kept coming. Din had trouble fighting with one earlier, and now you were six against too many. Five if they didn't count you. You were still weak, no powers, no Force —you were utterly useless.

Someone softly squeezed your shoulder. You looked up and your eyes met with beskar. "I'm gonna get you out of here." He could try. His words had always given you security. You assumed it was your damaged spirit that doubted them for the first time.

You fixed your eyes on the screen again, Din went to the front among the others. The dark troopers marched towards the bridge. They were getting closer and closer and all you could do was prepare yourself and wait.

"Seal the blast doors!" Fennec commanded Koska.

You looked at the cameras.

They were there.

The two dark troopers in the front started pounding on the door. The material they were made of was resistant, but not indestructible. It was only a matter of minutes before they could get through it.

"You have an impressive fireteam protecting you," Moff Gideon spoke. His voice exuberated confidence. He appreciated his upper hand in the situation and wasn't shy about it. "But I think we all know after a valuable stand, everyone in this room will be dead, but me and the girl."

Din didn't turn to look at you. Gideon's statement probably sent him the same eerie sensation as it did to you.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. The thought of him speaking so lightly of your friends' death almost made you puke.

If only you could've hurt him. You had the will, but not the power.

The alarm went off a second time. All of you looked at your right, throughout the windows: A ship flew past the cruiser. Closer monitoring allowed you to identify it as a lone X-wing fighter. Just one. Cara whispered something about being saved, her voice dripping with sarcasm. 

"Incoming craft, identify yourself." Bo-Katan solicited. Radio silence.

The dark troopers outside stopped pounding at the door. You looked at the cameras outside the bridge. They made a half-way turn on their place and armed themselves. 

Everyone was too baffled to be relieved about it. Everyone but you.

Your eyes were glued to the screen. The hooded figure that disembarked was just a visual confirmation of what you had sensed as soon as the craft had landed in the docking bay. 

There was no more such thing as uneasiness. The air felt lighter —in it, an invisible string pulling you towards the unknown subject.

No. Not unknown. You knew what and who it was —long before he'd displayed his lightsaber. You knew why he was here, as well as his intentions. You just didn't want to acknowledge the consequences of his presence —and what it meant for you. 

You turned around and searched for the Mandalorian, only to find Moff Gideon on his feet and pointing a blaster at Bo Katan.

He fired at her, four or five times, you didn't exactly count —it was enough to knock her out of the way.

There was nothing between you and him now. Whereas he'd expressed before the possibilities of keeping you alive for further studies about the Force, it wasn't a viable option anymore. He would rather kill you than let the Jedi get his hands on you.

You had no way to defend yourself. So you looked at him in the eyes and held your breath, resigned, once again, to a destiny written by foreign hands. 

You waited for the shots but they never came. Instead, the air was knocked out of your chest as you were thrown to the floor by someone. You winced at the harsh contact. At least you didn't have a hole in your body. You had closed your eyes by instinct, blinking felt such a waste of energy by then.

You focused on Din's helmet while he frantically inspected your body for any wounds.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

No, you were not. You were numb, expressionless, stunned, motionless. You felt your throat closing up. To speak would mean abandoning the shelter of your conscious, where you still believed to have more time with him. 

But you didn’t, and Din needed to be aware of this.

Tears welled up in your eyes before you whispered, “It’s time.” 

His posture stiffened above you. Though it was never a serious conversation, he’d recalled both of you touching the subject very on the surface. Always in a light, joking manner. “Oh, what will you do when I’m gone?” you’d ask. Din would follow with a snicker and tease you for the sake of your dynamic. “Get a good night of rest.” Truth be told, you could’ve never fathom to properly rest far from each other.

You wished, or rather begged with your eyes, for him to say something, anything —but he chose silence. Was his nightmare the same as yours? Or had he come to accept, long before you did, your true path? 

He took you gently by the hands and helped you get up. He guided you to the front, slow and steady. 

“Open the door,” the bridge was noiseless. No answer whatsoever to his request. Din insisted, “I said, open the door.”

Fennec raised an eyebrow, aiming at the entrance. “Are you crazy?” all the dark troopers were destroyed, but you couldn’t blame the group for their wariness. It had been a long day, a long journey, too many enemies in your path to trust so easily the person waiting on the other side.

You walked past by Gideon, who laid unconscious on the floor. His attempt to kill you felt so far away in time. Now, you faced something worse and more dreadful than death itself. 

Din ignored the verbal protests and pressed the button himself. The blast doors opened. The green glow of the lightsaber was visible before his body. Everyone waited as he entered the bridge. The sick, anxious feeling in your gut only increased when he withdrew his lightsaber. The memories of your time on the seeing stone came back altogether. You recalled his face, he was in your dream, he was the one who had reached out and —oh, you wished you could retract your cry for help.

“Are you a Jedi?” Din found the courage to ask. 

Yes, he is. You knew his identity before he could tell you so. Luke Skywalker.

“I am,” he confirmed and then looked at you. He reached out a hand, you squeezed Din’s. “Come, please.” you trusted this stranger as if you had known him all your life. The Jedi wasn’t the problem, it was the man standing next to you. 

“She doesn’t want to go with you.” Din’s authoritative tone and firm stand made it clear that he shared the same wishes as you. 

But Luke knew better than to give in to the whims of your hearts. If only they were reason enough to rebel against him, “She is strong with the Force. But talent without training is nothing. I will give my life to protect her, but she will not be safe until she masters her abilities.” 

Your fingers lingered over Din’s as you broke the grip on his hand and took a step forward. For a moment, you considered the option of leaving everything behind without looking back. To spare the pain of goodbye seemed the happiest ending you could get. 

Then you remembered how uncertain and unpleasant the future could be. Very few souls in the galaxy could survive regret, an ‘I should’ve’ was more gut-wrenching than any blast to your chest.

So you turned around and face him one more time. You offered a tremulous smile, drops wet the corner of your lips. 

He, as always, tried to offer some peace of mind you couldn’t find by yourself. “I’ll see you again. I promise.” you hated the bleakness that tainted his voice. Still, you found yourself wordless, nodding at his words. 

You extended your hand, the tip of your fingers brushed his helmet. It was cold, lifeless, so much different from what was inside of it and who you had learned to know. Din’s hand went up and reached for yours, for a moment you thought he’d push it away. Instead, he put it on the helmet and slowly removed it. 

What in the past was deemed unlikely, was now a solid dream.

You lingered on the coffee eyes that studied yours, on the small crease between them above the line of his bold nose. His hair —you wanted to jump in his arms and run your fingers through that hair. Your eyes wandered over his mouth, following its curve and pout, as if he was just about to speak. You wanted to crush your mouth against his lips. 

So you did.

Time stopped in a collision of senses when your lips met his. Your heart pounded in your chest as your knees got weaker. You could only focus on how soft he felt against your mouth, in how addictively he invaded your senses. 

There was raw emotion in the way his fingers closed behind your neck, in how he squeezed you against his body. With your eyes closed, you weren’t sure if your mind had tricked you into a perfect present. 

But then you opened them again and he was there. Closer than ever. 

“We will meet again.” your voice quavered in a whisper. You threw your head back just to take a full picture of his handsome face. Tears fell over his cheeks, you brushed them away with your thumbs. “Someday, somewhere, we’ll get to be together.” you lowered a hand and placed it on his chest. “Until then, keep me here, ok?” 

This time, Din draped both of his arms around your frame and met your lips halfway. It was short, intense, and everything that needed to be said was said with it, “I’ll wait for you as long as I have to, ner runi”. 

You stole him one last kiss before you let him go. 

There was nothing said between you and Luke as you left the bridge side by side. More tears cascaded through your face the further you walked away. You knew this was the way it should be, but never would it hurt so bad. The Mandalorian was supposed to be only an eventuality and ended up being half of your heart. 

You reached the elevator and turned around. It took a massive amount of bravery to look at a loved one in the eyes as you parted ways, so you gathered every cell full of courage in your body and looked at Din. 

You were still crying, so was he. But you had made peace with the past, the present, and the future — both of you knew, one way or another, you were destined to each other, whatever the odds you’d have to face. 

The elevator doors were closing. Your smile grew wider and wider as you realized, not too late, just in time, “I love you, Din Djarin.” he didn’t have to say it back for you to know he felt it too. 

You had promised to find him as soon as you could and you intended to keep your word.

[jd-loves-fiction]

➤”I’d like one order of Mando adventure angst with a side of fluff and a dash of spicy bickering. Enemies to lovers or friends to lovers flavor (whatever’s on the house) and a nice hot bowl of ‘there was only one bed’

Give my compliments to the chef”

➤ genre: Fluff, Adventure, Comedy(?), Enemies to Partners, Angst

➤ wc: 4.9k (holy shit might be my longest request🥴)

➤ 🌙 Requested: @batarella ❤

"Listen, buddy, I got here first." You attempt to reason with the wall of beskar currently pointing his blaster directly at you.

Maybe not the smartest thing to say when first meeting someone of his reputation, but he can only be doing this for one reason. 

He's after the bounty squirming nervously at your feet. And you're in the way.

Why else would he be out here, in the middle of a rocky desert on some faraway planet?

"Step away from him." The voice you hear startles you with its modulated dept. It's more surprising that he even spoke at all, given what you'd heard of the Mandalorian. Although his stature and the silent tension he brings with him is no doubt intimidating, you will not give up so easily after following this bounty so far out from the nearest town. “No.”

His visor tilts to the side, like a frustrated twitch, at your answer. “Maybe.” You rectify, which makes him raise his head in interest. “Do you have a fob?”

“No, I don’t.”

Not that it matters anymore considering yours is broken, but at least now you know he can't follow you if you make a break for it with the bounty. 

“How did you find us?”

“I have my ways.” You nearly roll your eyes at his cryptic response, not like you expected anything else from a Mandalorian.

“Do you know why they sent you?” Knowing your employers, you had a clue on what the reason was. They got impatient.

They’d been pretty determined to get a maximum time needed out of you. You’re almost sure you overstepped it.

But to send a Mandalorian? Seems like a bit much.

“They were afraid you’d run off. That you gave the bounty away to the Resistance.” Of course, those bastards can barely trust themselves, let alone a foreigner.

“Well I didn't, and I won't. So you can lower your blaster and we can do this together.” You offer amicably, not yet loosening your grip on your weapon upon his lack of movement.

“You’re out of time. Your deal is off.”

“That’s just-!” You're cut off by a shot buzzing past you.

"Last warning."

Your jaw drops. How can someone be so damn cold?

You raise your finger assertively, about to give him a piece of your mind, when you notice something move by his hip.

And it's green. With gigantic ears. And huge dark eyes that blink at you curiously.

Your head tilts, mirroring the creature. The Mandalorian follows your eyes to find you looking at the child he’s supposed to be caring for.

“Huh. And who is that cutie?” The blaster already pointed at you raises from where it had begun to slouch, alert and cautious. Noticing this, you readjust your grip on your own weapon.

You and the creature continue to study each other, until the Mandalorian pushes the brown bag to where it rests behind his body protectively.

“Are they yours? I mean, doesn't look like the ears would fit.” You speak just to make conversation, stepping closer with miniscule steps. His gloved hand tightens around his blaster, hoping to remind you that he can still shoot you point-blank.

But he hasn't.

"Can you really do much in front of a kid?" You challenge smugly, still advancing slowly. 

"He's seen me do worse."

"That right?" Another step. "You planning to shoot me today or would tomorrow work better?"

"Are you always this difficult? Just put the gun down-"

You jump towards him, hooking your foot around the back of his knee which makes him fall to the rocky ground immediately, dropping his blaster. Unfortunately, taking down a Mandalorian is no easy task, so he takes you down with him.

He throws his satchel to the side in the nick of time, it lands on a sand pile. His other arm grabs hold of you to pull you down with him.

You point your blaster at him as he lays beneath you, except it is no longer in your hand. Shit. He punches you in the face hard enough that something will turn black soon enough.

As you fall to the ground he gets on top of you, or tries, as you place your feet against his firm chest to keep some distance. You kick him in the helmet, silently thanking the stars your shoes are steel toed.

Your hand only scrapes against dry, red, sand covered rock as you search for a blaster, either would serve. Despite your momentary advantage in light of the Mandalorian’s confusion after being kicked, his hands quickly come down to cover your throat. You feel the creases in the leather as they’re pressed against your skin, and the beskar over the back of his hands against your chin.

But you still attempt to reach a weapon, a rock would do at this point.

Your arms flail wildly with no real direction, only the need to stay conscious, as if movement would help it. You do, however, notice that he’s purposely avoiding your traquia.

He still does not want to kill you. How sweet. Probably just wants to take you back to the bastards who hired you. They’d surely kill you, and much faster too.

Just as the spots in your vision start becoming overpowering, his grip loosens. You inhale greedily, desperately, gasping and coughing at the released pressure. 

You can see his visor move to and fro, searching for something. Once you look to the side, you the child safe in its pile of sand, so it can't be that. 

"Dank farrik! He's gone." The bounty. Right. Shit. 

"Now," you pause, heaving as your lungs struggle to fill up again, "what?"

He places his hands on his hips, thinking for a moment, before turning his visor to where you lay clutching your sore - but not yet bruised - neck. "I'm going after him."

"I'm sorry-?!" You cut yourself off with a cough as you sit up, feeling grains of sand make their way inside your boots and other places. "You're going after him? This is my bounty! I had him, and I would've been fine if you hadn't shown up."

He keeps his stance, probably glaring disapprovingly beneath his helmet. You huff at his unyielding silence, getting up in his personal space and jabbing a finger into his chest plate.

"I'm about to give you a piece of my mind, so you better listen very carefully. I had it! It was my catch. And from what I can tell, it still is. So you better back off, Mando." Venom drips from your lips as you glare at the tin can on his head as if you could put a hole straight through it.

He relaxes, raising his hands again peacefully, palms up, "Alright, I get it. But do you think they'd take him from you now? Let alone later when you actually catch him? They seem pretty vindictive."

"Well, what do you suggest? You're not going on your own."

"And why not?" He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans towards you.

"You don't have a tracking fob." You retort, leaning towards him as well with your hands on your hips.

The Mandalorian pats himself down where he believes to have stored the small device, only to find all those pockets empty. "You little thief!"

"And you're a liar! Plus, you think I'd just let you take my credits? Come on, with your reputation, you should know better than that." You shrug and suddenly Din is acutely aware that the beeping now comes from your hip instead of his.

"Alright, fine, let's do it this way. We'll look for him together and once we catch him, I'll hand him in and we'll split the reward." He explains slowly, carefully, afraid to set you off. 

"Seems good to me." You speak resolutely, thrusting your hand forward firmly, expecting a handshake. 

His helmet tilts down slightly as he looks down at your hand, before he reaches out with his own. Just as the leather meets your skin - in a now less life-threatening way - a coo sounds from somewhere at your feet, making you both look down to see the little green creature looking between the two of you curiously.

You look back at it, mirroring it once more, before it smiles wide revealing its tiny little teeth and, oh, your heart might just actually melt. 

It's large eyes move down from your face, towards your hands.

You suddenly realize neither you nor the Mandalorian had let go of each other's hand and that a large grin has formed on your face due to the adorable baby. It is promptly wiped off as you pull your hand back just as he does. He looks away while you shrug at the child's inquisitive stare, unaware that the bounty hunter had been watching you and marveling at the bond you'd both formed already.

And so you set out together to look for your target, back towards town, where you had begun your chase.

He can't have gone far or in any other direction, not with the unbearable heat and certainly not while handcuffed. He'd die for sure, you just have to hope he's smart enough to know that. 

You walk through town with the fob in your hand, just out of sight. No need for unnecessary attention. The town is tightly crowded, much to your chagrin, so you move slow and are barely able to see over the moving bodies. There’s just too much going on, too many people moving back and forth, shoving past you rudely. If it’d been anyone else - not an experienced bounty hunter - you would have probably been knocked down by the last two men that had scurried past you in a rush.

Without warning, you feel a hand grip your bicep. You immediately ready yourself for a fight, before you realize it belongs to your associate. Once he has your attention, Mando nods towards the edge to the street, against red stone buildings, urging you to follow him. You do, nudging anyone out of the way as you walked against the crowd’s stream.

You’re about to shout over the noise to ask just what the hell he pulled you aside for, considering you’re running out of time, before you follow his visor. Right to a wanted poster of a very familiar scoundrel. From the Resistance? Wanted alive for 8,000 credits?

“That’s one big fish, huh?" You continue to shout in order to be heard over the crowd, which you immediately regret, looking around, paranoid. "Must be important." You comment to yourself. 

You look up to see the Mandalorian's back disappear behind the corner. You quickly follow, catching up to his long strides, "What are you thinking?"

He ignores your inquiry, continuing to practically stomp his way through town. "Hey. Hey!" You call out to no avail. Well, you asked for it.

You reach out, grabbing the man by the back of his cape, tightening it around his neck and making it so he had to lean back to follow your hand in order to keep breathing. Your heart beats faster at the rush of power you feel for a moment. "You better tell me what you're thinking, or this is not gonna work."

He taps your hand repeatedly until you let go, rising to his full height and you're back to feeling slightly intimidated as he stares you down, silently.

"I'm thinking that with a price that high you might actually take the bounty yourself."

"Why-?"

The tracking fob. The small object suddenly burned a whole in your pocket. 

"Oh come on! You were trying to kill me!"

Your voice raises, arms flailing about. You know you're making a scene, considering this street is so much emptier and therefore quieter than the main one, but for the moment, you don't care. Right now, all you want is to put Mando in his place. Something you know is foolish given that he nearly killed you before and could actually do it this time.

"Yes, but it's still stealing." He spoke with that know-it-all, I'm-better-than-you, tone that just gets on your nerves. Bastard.

You raise a finger in the man's direction, fully intending to continue this conversation and clear your name in his eyes - the reason why is unknown even to you - when a shrill giggle cuts through the air. You look to Mando's hip, where the creature (who's name you have yet to learn) sits, pointing ahead to the entrance to the cantina. 

Right at the man of the hour.

What? How?!

The man looks back at you and Mando for a moment, eyes widening as he recognizes you and the fact that this might be it.

Before he takes off running. 

You start running before Mando does, easily catching up to the stout man, who's no longer in cuffs. As you get too close to his liking, he takes out a blaster (that you know isn't his) and tries to shoot you in the head. Only to miss and hit your forearm instead. 

Hurts like a bitch, but it's better than death. 

Out of the corner of your eye you see a steel rope of some kind shoot out and wrap around the fugitive's leg, sending him stumbling face first onto the ground. 

Mando walks over to him, barely winded, standing over the panting man and blocking the sun with his body. You can only imagine the man's terrified expression. 

You quickly take care of your wound as Mando ties the man up enough that he can't move, wincing as you look at the damage made on your skin. The burning nearly stops the bleeding and it hurts so bad you can barely process it, so you don't think about it, you simply level your breathing while wrapping a cloth around the wound and hope for the best considering it's not too big. 

You clutch it to your chest as Mando approaches, pointing at your arm, intending to ask you if you're alright, but you move it to your side before he can. "Are you-"

"We should give him to the Resistance." You speak resolutely, holding back from wincing as your injury rubbed against your pants. It hurt even from beneath a (barely) protective cloth.

“I said ‘we’, so don't you start giving me shit, alright?” You tell him sternly after he crosses his arms, probably getting ready to call you a thief again. “You can't give him to the Resistance because they’ll arrest you, correct?” He nods.

“Well you know bounty hunting isn't exactly legal.”

“You don't have to tell me that, Mando.” You remind him firmly. “So, if we give him to them, we can ask for them to clear your name! And we’ll get double the reward. Two birds with one stone!”

“Do you really think they’d just do that?”

“If someone’s paying 8,000 credits for one guy and specifying they want him alive, then I’d bet they’d do anything to get him, even something as seemingly insignificant as clearing your name.” You explain, gesturing avidly as you do.

A long moment of silence passes before a modulated sigh crackles through Mando’s helmet. “Fine. I’ll go get the Crest.”

“Wait, woah woah woah. Why are you going? How do I know you wont leave me out here?”

“How do I know you wouldn't?” You take a moment to consider his words. He did lie to you, but you did steal from him in a way.

You look down in contemplation, eyes meeting the creature’s. Right, Mando has the kid, who probably isn't fit to be out in this heat for as long as it has.

“He got a name?” You point to the child, who smiles and giggles gleefully.

“Grogu.” You nod, sighing and rubbing your temples. Stars, it’s so hot it feels as if your brain is melting and you can feel a headache coming on.

“You can go. But I want you to swear on your,” You pause for a second, searching for the right word, “honorable code. Swear you’ll come back.”

“You-” The Mandalorian starts, before giving up on protesting at your determined stand, crossed arms and raised chin. “OK, alright. I swear that I’ll come back for you and the bounty. That we need.” He whispers the last part.

“Get to it then. I’m sweating bullets in this heat!”

You sit, back against a nearby rock, searching for as much shade as possible. You don't want to move the bounty back into town for a multitude of reasons, so now you’re stuck just outside of town. Sweat making your clothes stick and it gathers while the headache gets worse and more blood soaks your makeshift bandage, but at least it's silent. That's what you thought about 20 minutes ago, now, you’ve changed your mind.

“The hell did you do to get 8,000 credits on your head?” You ask suddenly, seemingly startling the man who seems to have accepted his fate already.

He sighs, probably just as bored as you, “I have some information they want. That's why they want me alive.” You purse your lips in interest, humming in understanding, before silence falls over you two once more.

Stars, it's hot.

You could cry from relief once you hear the sound of a loud engine getting closer and closer. The 'Crest', as Mando had called it. 

You grab the bounty by the shirt, hauling him to his feet rather roughly and shoving him towards the flying hunk of metal that had just landed. 

The ship. Mando doesn't come out to greet you. 

As the ramp closes and the air is blanketed in a sheet of silence, your mind starts to wander without your permission. You know he has to be handsome under there, what with his broad shoulders and slim waist, deliciously thick thighs and a wonderfully smooth and deep voice that seems to caress your very soul as you hear it. You caught a glimpse of his skin when you pulled at his collar, delightfully tan just begging for you to sink your teeth into it. 

Must be the heat. Surely that is the sole reason why you're fantasizing so vividly about a man whose real name you don't know, whose face you've never seen and oh, a man who tried to kill you. But didn't. 

Sick of your own thoughts and the loud snores of the bounty, you rise to your feet, climbing the ladder that leads to the cockpit. You wince as you put part of your weight on your injured arm, deciding to climb the rest of the ladder one handed instead.

“Are you decent?”  You shout through the thick metal door, hoping Mando can hear you inside the cockpit. When the heavy doors hiss and open, you’re sure he must be.

You sit down in the passenger seat silently, looking up at the stars above for a long moment. The mesmerizing, endlessly dark sky is all that you see at first, from being partially blinded by the fluorescent lights inside the Crest, before the stars come to you, bright speckles that dust the planetary systems all around you. Breathtaking. 

You look back in front of yourself to find Grogu already staring at you, head tilted with a smile that shows the slightest hint of tiny teeth. You smile, leaning forward with a raised brow. He leans closer to you, eyes lingering in the side of your face, the one already darkening from Mando’s blow, before dipping down to the arm you hold close to your chest. You let go of it immediately as he does, wanting to shield him from seeing the blood you know can be seen through the cloth.

The child steps closer, as far as he can while up on the dashboard. Mando has to be avoiding you, before he would've seen that movement otherwise.

It reaches out his small hand, squeezing his eyes as tightly as possible while the green limb twitches. You furrow your brows in confusion, what?

The ache on your skin lessens gradually, as if the wound was being lifted from your skin. You can feel it on your arm, it tickles as your skin connects itself around the wound while the burn disappears as if you’d just placed ice over it.

At some point, your eyes close, lulled nearly to sleep by the lifting of the pain, the feeling left behind makes your skin tingle with energy just beneath, your head feels light for a second, as if the blood moved from there down to heal the wounds.

When you open your eyes, you’re met with Mando’s visor trained on your face, silent in a way you can tell he’s speechless. “Eyes on the road, Mando.” You tell him cheekily, voice cracking unexpectedly.

He turns back forward, pausing his steering to pull Grogu forward and away from the edge, before his hands return to the commands. “So, is it far still?”

“No, just a few more hours. The closest Resistance base is just on the next planet.” His fingers flick switches and pull levers, before he seemingly puts the vehicle on autopilot and turns to you. “You can take the cot, you must be tired.”

You blink at him, “And what about you?”

“I’ll be fine.” He answers gruffly, not sparing you a glance.

“No, it’s gonna be a few hours, and you’ve been awake for about as much as me so if anyone is taking the cot, it’s you.” You argue back firmly.

He sighs, loosening the cape around his neck as a way to calm himself down, you and your selflessness.

“Alright. No promises that I’ll sleep though.” He acts like it’s a huge burden, as if it pains him deeply.

He takes Grogu in his arms and towards his sleeping nook. The small child smiles at you from over his guardian’s shoulder, and you smile back.

Once he’s safely put away and the bounty checked on, Mando leads you to a space just off the main hull space, where a bed - with the thinnest mattress you’ve ever seen - is pulled from the wall. Oh boy, you can already feel your back aching, but it’s better than sitting in the cockpit on those hard chairs.

So you lay down your weapons while he takes off the bulkiest of his armour. You lay down, curled on your side and away from him, knowing he’ll have to cuddle close to fit. You feel his warmth against your back, but you don't feel his touch quite yet, only the ghost of it. Your gut tightens with pity as you know he can’t take his helmet off. That has to be very uncomfortable.

The lights are dim enough that there is no shadow from your bodies on the wall. You can tell by the space he’s put between you, that he’s about to fall off.

“Are you scared of me, Mando? Can I call you Mando?”

“Sure and no.”

“Which one?” You ask mischievously, smirking to yourself while knowing full well what he meant.

He sighs in exasperation, so you let him be. For only a moment before you're back to being snarky. "Surely you've been this close to another human before, perhaps in a more compromising context."

"Yes and it's usually quieter." You think he might not realize what he just said.

You snort, "Must mean you're doing something wrong."

"That's not-! Just, get some sleep." He says tiredly, giving up on the banter you're pushing. You do as he asks, closing your eyes as you feel the heat of his body move closer to you.

You wake up to a rough whisper of your name and a shaking of your shoulder. Eyes open slowly, squinting against the light shining right at them, before something blocks it and eases your discomfort. The large hand on your shoulder doesn't yet move from its place, gently perched and waiting for you to wake up fully. 

You look up to see Mando's helmet over you, seemingly way too close (not that you're complaining), as you can clearly hear him breathe through his modulator. "We're here and we need to talk before you go in."

You follow him to the hull without question, stopping just before the door that leads to it. You rub the sleep from your eyes before blinking up at the bounty hunter, trying to nonchalantly fix your messy hair. 

And though he'd never tell you, he thought you looked adorable in that moment. Rosy cheeks, a faraway gaze, lips pursed to hold back a yawn as you brushed down your hair. He was certainly thankful for his helmet in that moment, considering the heat he felt crawling up his neck and settling on his cheeks. 

"Plan?"

You clear your throat before speaking, "Right. So, it's easy." You raise a hand to his face when Mando sighs deeply. "Simple, really. I go in, tell them I have the bounty and ask for a little something as compensation along with the credits. See? Easy and simple!"

"Do you think they'll take it?" It doesn't sound as skeptical as you would've expected from him. It's sort of hopeful. Even Mando has to admit to himself that getting chased around and having to avoid and run from x-wings at every turn, got pretty exhausting. 

"Let's try it before we start getting doubts." You tell him, determined. "Besides, nothing to lose if you stay hidden, right?"

The planet you landed on is small and green - perfect cover for a Resistance base. You walk along the dirt path leading to it and away from the Crest, coming up to a clearing where you can see the humongous metal doors of the base which seemed to have been dug into a small mountain. 

"Stop! State your business." A voice says through a speaker once you get close enough. 

"I've come to deliver a bounty!" You keep it simple, no use even attempting to be charming with these folks.

Not long after, the doors part to let someone through, who you presume is a general or something of the sort given their intimidating presence and the flock of guards with their weapons trained on you that follow them. 

"We have your credits. Thank you for bringing him to us." You keep your face neutral even as it urges to tremble beneath the pressure of their gaze. You feel the man in question squirm against the arm that grips his bicep. Must really not be a fan. 

"That is not all I want." The supposed general, no need to try and figure that out considering you don't want them to remember you more than necessary, raises a delicate brow. "I would like for you to clear someone's name."

"That is not what we agreed on."

"Yes, well, I didn't agree to it myself, so." You shrug, impressed that the general's face remains stone cold, especially considering how much they probably would like to dispose of you given you're dragging out this exchange for longer than what's really necessary. 

"You are in no place to make demands." One soldier tells you, pulling out his blaster and pointing it at you, getting more of a reaction from the bounty than from yourself as he flinches. 

"Oh, I am in the perfect place to be making demands." You tell him venomously, grip tightening on the man's arm.

"We have you surrounded."

"Just the way I like it." You respond with a wink just to hear the person's stuttering over the modulator on their helmet.

"Very well." The general calls out in order to gain their minions' attention, "Just tell me what name they might be under in our system."

"The Mandalorian. Mando for friends."

Epilogue

"Fuck! Shit, fuck! What was I thinking?!" You yell out in frustration, standing before what remains of your ship, the rest most likely taken by Jawas, who must be long gone by now. "Of course someone would take it apart, why not?! Oh, stars." You wail miserably, crouching into a ball in search of some comfort. 

"Hey, it'll be alright. Don't panic." Mando tells you gently after pulling you to your feet and grabbing your shoulders tightly to ground you. "There's two ways we can do this: we go after those Jawas, get your pieces and fix the ship or," Mando hesitates for a moment, fingers drumming along your skin as he turns the words over and over in his tongue until he feels as if he'll get them right once he says them. "you can come with me until you get enough credits for a new one. 4,000 might not be enough yet, but it's a pretty solid start."

His rare optimism brings a small smile out of you and makes your anger settle down almost completely. You'll no doubt have an even deeper hatred for the little shits, but you don't feel as if you'll punch the next living thing you see.

"I guess catching a ride with you can't be so bad, huh, Mando?"

[saiilorstars]

It Had To Be You

Ch.8:  Focus // [Story Masterlist]

Pairings: Barry Allen x Original Female Character

Summary: Barry tries to move on after Belén suddenly left the city, but in doing so he begins to harbor resentment towards her. 

Pronunciation of OC’s name: Bell-en. The last syllable has an emphasis so it’s not pronounced like ‘Helen’ would be.

~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~

In the following morning after going against 'Captain Cold', Barry thought a good (and hopefully civilized) talk with Belén was in order. Since she had no more classes, he assumed she would either be at home or at her job. Calling would've been pointless since she hadn't answered any of his calls the previous night so guessing was all he had to go by.

He was knocking incessantly on Belén's front door - he was hoping her father wasn't there so he wouldn't have to awkwardly explain the reason behind his pounds on the door. After five minutes of knocking, he gave up. Giving it one quick scope with his speed he finally concluded that no one was home.

That left CC Pictures.

"Hi, Barry," Linda greeted him from her desk when he walked in.

"Linda," Barry headed for her desk while taking a look at the current employees rushing about. He assumed after the tumbling train and cold gun incident, the news was buzzing with new articles. "I need to talk to Belén. Can you call her?"

Linda's face scrunched in confusion. "Barry, I thought you knew."

"Knew what?"

"Belén called in last night - she's left the city."

Barry's eyebrows raised, equally confused as the reporter. "She...she...she what?"

Linda rose from her chair, lightly tapping her knuckles on her desk. "I was hoping to bump into you or one of her other friends so that someone could explain this. She called in last night and said she was going to be taking a break. She understood her job here could be lost but she seemed very determined to leave."

"Did...did she give you any sort of reasoning?" Barry asked, the wave of guilt not wasting time in hitting. "Or, where she went to?"

"Nothing just that she needed a break," Linda shrugged, clearly doubtful that it was the truth. "I told her her job was safe. But, between you and I, if she's gone for a long time I won't be able to help her later on. You think you can pass on the message?"

Even though he had no idea where Belén could've possibly gone, he still nodded his head. "Yeah…"

"Barry?" Linda called when Barry was already halfway back to the doors. "Do you know why Belén would just pick up and leave?"

"Uh…"

"I mean, I know she's gone through a lot of stuff lately but if she wanted to do something like this she would've done it a long time ago…"

Barry swallowed hard and forced himself to shake his head. "N-no...not at all…"

Linda seemed to trust him but looked no less disappointed. With a polite smile, they bid goodbye and Barry rushed to go find the missing (possible) metahuman.

~ 0 ~

2 Months Later.

"Felicity, I'm here, but are you sure this is the place?"

"Positive, Belén. There's been tons of break-ins into this jewelry store by that gumbo woman."

"Plasticine, you meant Plasticine."

"Eugh, that's still a creepy name."

Belén rolled her eyes and came to a stop in front of the jewelry store that barely had any customers inside. It seemed like a perfectly normal jewelry store yet she has discovered - thanks to the wonderful techy powers of Felicity Smoak - that this was a preferred robbing spot for the metahuman known as Plasticine.

"Belén," came Oliver Queen's voice through her earpiece, "Remember what I told you to do."

"Yes, yes," Belén's eyes - which were hidden behind tendrils of vines forming a nice mask with small Azaleas decorating its corners - quickly glanced down at her hands. She flexed them over and over as she saw spots of green trying to make its way across her skin. No, she told herself. That needed to go away. "I learn fast, remember?" she answered in a perfectly normal voice, nothing that would ever indicate what she was trying to desperately hide.

"Two months is hardly fast."

"Shut up," Belén commanded and she was sure Felicity had done something from the other line to make it so.

As Belén's eyes re-opened, this time more focused on her task. Her ombre-blonde hair, which had been picked up into a high pony-tail, were being overun by thin roots with green vines that contained several small azaleas throughout its course. It was just enough to cover her blonde tips (in case any civilian identified it and configured back to her).

Her dark green leather jacket, whose green shade faded midway to turn into a hot pink just like her pants, was zipped closed as she burst into the store.

"Customers," her perfectly modulated voice (thanks to Felicity's addition to the earpiece) made everyone in the building stop, "get out."

See, the good thing about Central City now was that when some crazed leather bound person ordered those three words people listened in a snap. When customers had ran out, Belén sealed the door by wrapping her vines all over them.

"Freeze!" came the predicted security guard behind her.

"Belén," Oliver's voice warned the young woman before she made her move.

"I know," Belén rolled her eyes and thrust a hand back to the guard. A thick green vine had shot out from her palm and swiftly snatched the gun from the officer, breaking it two before letting it drop to the floor. "I don't mean to hurt anyone," she addressed the rest of the people in the room, "I need to talk to a certain employee: Alizae Fraye."

The woman in question squeaked in terror and instantly had Belén turning in her direction. Belén felt a little guilty since she already knew the woman thanks to her sister. She hoped neither would ever found out about this.

"I don't want to hurt you," Belén clarified. "I'm only here to ask questions."

The woman, a brunette, gave a light nod but it didn't mean she wasn't terrified.

"Belén, there's about two minutes before the police get there," Felicity called from the earpiece.

"Get in, and get out," added Oliver.

"A woman in purple, shoots some sort of purple gumbo, she comes here to steal every month or so. Correct?"

Alizae nodded.

"But she never hurts anyone does she?"

Alizae shook her head.

"And whenever she comes in, she always come straight for you. Why?"

Alizae shrugged. "I…don't know…" she croaked.

Belén looked around the room, the people paralyzed with fear of what she would do next. "There has to be a connection here," her voice hardened intentionally. "A woman with powers comes in here every month - always on the same day and time - and she takes a couple priceless jewelry then makes a clean getaway."

"She knows what she's coming for," the guard that had tried to shoot her was now helping, apparently.

That was a good thing, Belén smiled.

"It's like she knows where everything is," Belén acknowledged his help with a light nod.

"From the moment she got here," a third employee spoke up, a male, "she knew where everything was. Like...like…"

"She had already visited the store before," Belén finished for him. "See, I can understand that. She's clever, she scopes out her place before robbing it. What I can't understand is why she always comes to you," she pointed a pink nailed polished finger at Alizae. "Why you?"

"I swear to you I don't know," Alizae whimpered.

"And she doesn't hurt anyone either," Belén continued on. "This is like a normal day at the grocery store for her. But see, here's another thing: she's big and bad with her powers so she can do far better than measly jewelry here - no offense," she quickly added, "Why settle for this?"

"She says she doesn't like doing it," Alizae dared to reveal. "I can see it too - in her eyes - that she does it with hesitancy."

"Useful," Belén thought and looked up at the cameras. With both her hands she shot out vines and smashed them to pieces. "Sorry," she honestly said to the others, "I didn't steal nor hurt anyone but I still don't want trouble. This was interesting, thank you all."

With a wide smile, she let her vines enclose themselves around her body and in a snap, they fled the building.

~ 0 ~

"I should be leaving," Belén walked alongside Nina, the latter in regular clothes. The dark, lonesome street allowed for an uninterrupted conversation between the two.

"If you truly believed that then we wouldn't have left our suitcases back at my place," Nina smirked.

"Yeah, but...I don't know, I'm nervous," Belén bit on one of her nails.

"Course you are - you've changed."

"Thanks, Nina," Belén rolled her eyes. "I feel better, and I'm going to be better. It's just seeing them all…"

The two women trailed off at the sound of a police sirens. They exchanged concerned looks before running towards the scene. It appeared there had been an explosion of some sort. The consequences were grave but what really took it home was the man hanging onto a loose window scaffold.

"Help! Help!" the man frantically cried from the top.

"That's gotta be at least forty feet high," Nina raised her eyebrows.

Belén stepped fowards, turning her palms upwards. "Hmm…"

"Bells, don't," Nina warned when she saw the idea forming into Belén's mind.

"Why not? This is why I left in the first place. Besides, it's not the first saving I'd be doing."

"Yeah, but do this, and you could get caught by that someone you say you're not ready to bump into."

"That man is going to die and I'm not gonna let it happen because of silly nervousness." Belén made her declaration with the utmost honesty. Without hearing Nina's next response, she rushed off to go help the poor man that was literally hanging from a tearing rope.

She tilted her head and cracked her neck, simultaneously stretching her hands. Nina was right, the man was up at least forty levels and she hadn't quite stretched her powers that far. She needed to be extra careful. She cast another look at her hands and saw the same greeness trying to make its presence. I said no. She balled them up and backtracked a little before thrusting her right hand forwards and released one of her thick vines. It stuck to the wall like a suckers and she did the same with her other hand, landing the second vine rope-like mass. Using them like anchors, she brought herself up. Ignoring the fact she was oh-so-many-feet high, she got onto the falling scaffold, using one of her vines to keep it to a regular position.

"It'll be alright," she assured the awed and terrified man. "It's gonna feel weird, but I'll get you down," she promised.

Multiple vines extended from her body and wrapped around the man's body. Belén admitted there was the adrenaline she grew to love from doing stuff like this. It was rather wonderful knowing you could have peoples' lives in your hands - or in this case vines - and that you could keep them protected when no one else could.

Those were her thoughts as she watched her vines lower the man down the building. She gently let him down to the ground.

And then she got a crazy idea she knew Nina would scold her about later. She let herself drop headfirst and laughed as she put her hands together. They created an extra thick vine that helped her land with a front handspring move.

It would've been a perfect ending if there hadn't been a watcher nearby.

"Wo-oah…" she sucked in a breath at the sight of her good friend Iris West standing across.

Iris looked wonderstruck of all she saw - and with great reason!

Belén's first instinct was to look down. Her mask would only cover her so much, and she was no where near ready to try her...other side. But, her hair tips were covered with stringlets of roots and flowers till it covered up her identifiable blonde tips.

Iris thought for sure she had squeaked then. Yes, she was sure.

She made a step towards Belén but in the next second vines had entangled themselves around Belén and taken her away from the scene.

~ 0 ~

In Jitters, Barry sat alone at a table waiting for Iris to come over with his ordered coffee. It was a particularly casual day, waiting for STAR Labs to come up with an identity for the person who mysteriously bombed an elite storage room the previous night. This case, however, was more interesting than any other case: the army had come to take it over. Just like that, they swept up the case with all its compartments and took off.

But, Barry managed to snag the most important part of the evidence and got it to STAR Labs right away for analyzation.

"Oh my God," Iris' voice made him snap out of his thoughts. She was coming over with her pot of coffee, but her eyes were stuck past him to the doors. "Barry, look."

He followed her gaze and glanced back to see Nina Clarke coming. On any other occasion, the appearance would've been normal…

2 Months ago:

"Hey," Barry greeted Caitlin as he walked in, the bio-engineer anxiously looking up at him.

"How'd it go?" she asked.

"Not good," Barry leaned against the side of the desk. "Get this, Nina took an absence of leave-" he did air quotation marks, "-from the hospital this morning. I checked her apartment and she wasn't there anymore."

"That's highly suspicious," Caitlin made a face.

"Very," Barry agreed. "Belén leaves last night, and then today one of her friends does the same? And with no specific reason?"

"You think she's where Belén is?"

"Of course. But question is, where?"

At that moment, Cisco strode into the room, and he looked nowhere pleased.

"How'd it go with you?" Barry asked him, though by the big sigh Cisco gave he could tell it wasn't going to get better.

"I talked to Bells' dad and he said he had no idea Belén was going to do this," Cisco plopped down in one of the desk chairs.

"Did you believe him?" Caitlin arched an eyebrow.

"Yeah, he was looking worried too," Cisco shrugged. "But he knows where she is now-" and just as Barry opened his mouth he added, "-and he said Bells told him not to say anything. She wanted a 'break'."

"Looks like Belén doesn't want to be found," Caitlin concluded with the obvious facts. She leaned back on her chair, sadly smiling at her two friends. "I think we need to respect her decision."

"But that's just it!" Barry exclaimed suddenly, startling the two. "It was a stupid, rash decision! She left the city because of me! Because I...I lied."

The pang his heart gave was a painful one.

"Do you think Bells is back too?" Iris quietly whispered to Barry as the two watched Nina go up to the counter to order.

Out of everyone, Iris was the most concerned of Belén's friends. She really had no idea what possessed Belén to get up and leave the way she had. No one seemed to know where Belén had run off to, nor her reasons. Even her graduation party had been cancelled because of her sudden departure. Her father had picked up her certificate from the office the day before the graduation ceremony took place. As far as Iris knew, Linda had hired some newly graduated student to cover Belén's position in the meantime the woman was gone.

Overall, Iris was confused and she just missed her friend.

"We should talk to her," Iris resolved and glanced at Barry for his opinion. He was mildly glaring at the nurse and while Iris could understand (in some way) his annoyance with the abrupt leave, she hit him in the arm. "It's not her fault Bells left! Don't you dare ruin this," she warned with a finger before going to greet Nina.

Nina wasn't surprised to find the younger woman taking her order. She politely smiled. "Hello, Iris."

"Nina, it's been a long time," Iris mustered her gracefulness and patience for this conversation.

"Has it?" Nina chuckled.

"Only been two months but...who's counting?" Iris chuckled alongside but it was easily fake as Nina's. "Can I get your order?"

"Espresso, please."

Iris nodded and dotted it on the register. "So...are you back in the city for good now?"

"Oh yeah, definitely," Nina answered, reaching for her wallet inside her bag. "I had to take care of some personal stuff."

"Did that 'personal stuff' also require Belén?"

Nina didn't seem fazed by the question as she handed Iris a ten dollar bill. Her smile was gone but her voice was still polite. "Actually, it was personal matters for each of us."

Iris accepted the bill and worked with the register. "Was it resolved?"

"Hm, yes, in a way, it was."

"And is she okay?"

"In what fits, Iris, yes. She's finally accepted her brother's death but how well can a sibling be when they accept that their twin is dead and with no recovered body to mourn?"

Iris had held out Nina's change and was left to think about the question with a decent amount of guilt. She had never thought about Belén leaving for her brother. Truthfully, at one point, Iris believed Belén was just doing this on purpose. How was she supposed to know this was about Rayan?

"Is she back now?" she whispered. "Is she back in the city?"

Nina took her change and put it back into her wallet. "I'll wait over there," she pointed to a lonesome table near the doors then left.

Iris glumly went to prepare the espresso. It was then that Barry got up to take his opportunity.

"Hello Barry," Nina greeted without so much of a glance from her phone screen. "How's it going?"

"Are you serious?" the hard tone in his voice made her chuckle.

"Oh, don't tell me you're mad. Out of everyone you are the least person with the right to be mad."

"I don't think it's funny when a friend disappears and has all of us going crazy wondering what happened."

Nina finally raised her eyes to the metahuman, and her sarcasm was no longer with her. "She's fine, Barry. She left because she thought it was the right thing to do for her. It has nothing to do with what fell out between you two."

While it did relieve Barry somewhat it wasn't enough. He took a seat across her, earnestly speaking. "Where is she? Where did she go?"

Nina just smiled at him. "You'll see her again, don't worry."

"That's not what I'm asking," Barry snapped. "Where the hell did she go?"

"She won't be the same, though," Nina warned, acting as if Barry hadn't said anything yet.

"That's not what-"

"She's a bit scared though of how you'll react - how everyone will react…"

"Nina!" Barry had slammed a hand on the table, not loud enough to cause a distraction but enough to make the doctor flinch on her spot. "I have spent the last two months going crazy wondering where it is she could've gone to. I get it, I messed up, and she's mad. But the least she can do is give us a call to let us know she's fine."

Nina bit her lip, looking reluctant of her next words. "The thing with her brother, it's part of the reason why she left. I love her, I really do, but I'm afraid what's gonna happen now that...that she's…"

"Now that she's…?" Barry motioned her to keep going.

"Here's your espresso," Iris chirped and set down the coffee cup on the table. She looked between Nina and Barry, getting strange vibes from them. "Um...am I interrupting?"

"No," Nina picked up her espresso and got up. "It was nice seeing you guys. I have to get to my shift. Bye."

"Well that was strange," Iris sighed and looked over to Barry. "Did she tell you anything about Bells?"

Barry was left in an even fouler mood than before. "No," he answered shortly and also got up.

"Do you think if we-"

"I have to go Iris," was his last statement before promptly (and what Iris deemed as rudely) leaving as well.

He had only made it halfway down the street when his phone vibrated. As soon as he answered it, Cisco quickly told him of the last known address (which in reality was an emergency contact) of their new metahuman in the city. As it turned out, Bette Sans Souci had a an address not too far. Getting in the suit, he sped to go find her.

He came into an alleyway where a tall ginger woman had been running from a staircase. She yelped when he came to a stop right in front of her. Immediately, she backtracked but Barry wasn't gonna let her go.

"Bette Sans Souci? I need you to come with me!"

"Don't touch me!" the woman nearly pleaded but Barry grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her forwards.

Her hand landed on his suit's emblem and she blinked with terror as it began shifting into a bright purple. "Get whatever you're wearing off of you. Hurry!"

Barry wasn't one to listen to strangers so quick but just for once he would make an exception. He sped away from her and got the suit off just mere seconds before it exploded into nothing!

Back at STAR Labs, Cisco was trying to get through to Barry while Caitlin assured him everything was fine on the other side.

"Barry? Can you hear me? Barry?"

"There must be a perfectly reasonable explanation for why he's not answering."

And then Barry sped in, going for the spare clothes in one of the side rooms.

"Barry?" Caitlin eyed him curiously as he came back out with pants he surely did not have before and pulling down a gray shirt over himself. "Uh…?"

"Don't ask," Barry mumbled, still not over what happened.

Cisco's eyes roamed the entire room for his crimson suit. "I'm gonna ask. Where's my suit?"

"It's... Gone."

Cisco straightened in his chair, his brow furrowing."What do you mean, it's gone? What did you do with my suit?"

"It blew up, dude. I managed to get out of it before it went, "kaboom."

"My suit went "kaboom"?"

Barry ignored Cisco's processing and walked over to the desk. "Fun fact about Bette Sans Souci. She's not carrying bombs. She touched the emblem on the suit and turned it into a bomb. She's a meta-human."

Dr. Wells came into the main room having heard the revelation. "With the ability to cause spontaneous combustion upon tactile contact."

Cisco was scowling by then. "She blew up my suit."

Caitlin rolled her eyes at him. "You have, like, three more."

"Okay, I have two. And I loved that one!"

"All right, what else do we know about her?" Barry asked from the two, now a little more impatient to find her.

Cisco leaned towards one of the computers and began looking up the recent information they had downloaded on the metahuman. "Oh, I don't know. She's pure evil. We're gonna find this girl and send her butt into the pipeline. No one blows my tech to smithereens and gets away with it…" his irritated tone vanished upon seeing a picture of the mysterious Bette, "Unless she looks like that."

"I don't think she meant to hurt me," Barry admitted to them.

"Well, her being a meta-human explains General Eiling's interest in her," Wells remarked.

At that moment, Joe came in and didn't look too surprised of what he'd heard so far. "And why he stole the case from us. He didn't want anyone to know what she could do. So... Human bomb. Must be Tuesday in Central City."

"Yes, and General Eiling's not one to give up a potential asset without a fight."

"We have to find her before he does."

"Barry?" Joe asked once the others got to work. "Can I see you for a second?" Barry nodded and followed him out into the corridor. "We've got a problem with Iris. She saw a metahuman - upclose at a police scene."

"I wasn't there, it wasn't me," Barry's hands shot up in immediate innocence.

"I know it wasn't you - it was a woman, least that's what Iris says."

"Well, maybe it was this one," Barry gestured to the room but Joe shook his head.

"This one bombs, the one that Iris saw apparently shoots plants or something."

Barry stiffened, not that Joe noticed. He was too preoccupied with his daughter at the moment.

"She's writing a blog now-"

"I already talked to her about that," Barry reminded, though his thoughts were beginning to roam from the conversation.

"Talk to her again. And be more convincing."

"Okay," Barry nodded and was about to go back inside when he caught Joe's sharp look. "Oh! You mean, right now?"

"Yes, I do," Joe motioned him to get a move on.

"Alright," Barry hurriedly left.

~ 0 ~

Sticking to his word, Barry was back at Jitters and desperately trying to get Iris to sway from her sudden passion.

"You've got to stop writing about these people - they don't exist."

Iris scoffed and turned to him, lowering the tray she was carrying. "I saw one of them, alright? They do too exist. I went to that crime scene thinking just maybe I would get a glimpse of the Streak but instead I saw this woman who singlehandedly saved a man from plummeting to his death. She wore this green and pink outfit…"

While Barry was listening attentively to her description of this new metahuman (that clearly was not Bette) he played it off with disbelief. "I mean, Iris, come on. You were drinking last night at the bar," he reminded her of their previous night out with their friends.

"I was not drunk, and I know what I saw," Iris said with a hint of annoyance. "It was amazing. I watched her dive from a window scaffold and landed perfectly on her feet and she only used these vines," she turned over one of her palms for gesture. "They just shot out from her hands! And body! It was incredible, Barry!"

All the details began ringing a red alert in Barry's mind.

It was just oddly familiar.

"I want to have people know that there are these extraordinary people out there saving us. What is wrong with you?" Iris stopped to give Barry an accusing look. "This is important to me. Why can't you be more supportive?"

"I'm just... you haven't even put your name on it. How serious can you be about an anonymous blog?"

Iris had enough of all the useless questionnaires and comments on something she was really interested in. "Okay, you know what? Our entire lives, you couldn't scream loud enough that the impossible existed. And now it's actually happening in Central City. I have proof of it, and you don't want to know about it? That doesn't make sense, Barry. So when you're ready to tell me what this whole routine is really about, then we can talk."

In other occasions, her being mad at him would've been bigger but all Barry could think of was the last time he had heard of a metahuman with vines.

Well, he wasn't going to sit there and watch her laugh at him like that.

~ 0 ~

"I'm looking through them, Felicity," Belén was in Nina's apartment, sitting at the kitchen table with a laptop in front of her. She was talking to the blonde techie over the cellphone while looking at a previous robbery of the jewelry store she visited last night. "I just don't understand what exactly I'm looking for this time. Oliver's already had me scour through them for clues till I broke down and you know it."

"Well, here's the one I wanted you to look at," Felicity said and soon Belén got the ping of an e-mail alert. She opened it up to find a video, security footage, of the Stagg building.

"Felicity, what am I looking at exactly?" Belén asked in confusion as she watched the video. It had a viewpoint from a nearby building by Stagg's, and as the seconds went by Belén saw the woman in purple standing at the rooftop of a building that would be just across Stagg's.

"These are a couple of videos I montaged," Felicity began to explain. "See, this one was when there was the incident with Simon Stagg and the tons of clones."

"Okay…"

"Now this is the night where Barry fought said metahuman, and do you see what's happening in the meantime of this fight?"

"Nothing," Belén shrugged. "She's just...watching."

"Exactly - she's watching. And do you know what else I've picked up on?"

"No, but please tell."

"There's other security video feed of her just 'happening' to be around when there's a metahuman or robbery going on. It's not always but there's a good 80% she will be there."

"She's got no life, then," Belén joked to herself.

It was short lived as a strong wind blew everything save the computer off the table.

"Belén? Is something wrong?" Felicity's voice barely made a noise in the already silent apartment. "Belén…?"

Barry had entered in a completely abrupt and rude way into the apartment, but he currently did not care. Belén ended her call with one click of a finger and put the phone down.

"Barry…?" She rose from her chair, unsure of how to even talk to him anymore.

Barry was in the same predicament, unsure how to address the woman across him. There was a turmoil of emotions washing over him and he didn't know which one was the one he felt the most.

"How did you...how did you know to find me here?" Belén discreetly closed the laptop beside her.

"I saw Nina earlier today," Barry said quietly. He was staring hard at her, studying her appearance for anything that would tell him (or give him a clue) as to where it was she had gone off to.

Belén nervously bit her lip, her feet locked on the spot she was in. "No one knows I'm here, though. My Dad...he doesn't know yet. Can you please not tell him anything?"

Barry surprised her by lightly laughing. "I'm sorry, after everything you're asking me a favor?"

There was the seeping anger Belén had been expecting.

"I know I don't deserve anything but it's important," she whispered.

"You don't get to ask favors from me anymore."

"I know-"

"No you don't!" Barry snapped. "You left, Belén! You left without saying a word to any of us! One call," he pointed at her, "One measly call to let us know you were fine would've been enough. It didn't even have to be to me!"

"I told my father to tell you all," Belén meekly reminded.

"Getting a message isn't the same thing!" Barry's voice kept rising and rising, and he knew it was completely out of his character to do so but looking at her and seeing she was fine made it all the more angering when he remembered how guilty he'd been (and still was) for causing her to leave. "I thought we were friends-"

"So did I," Belén finally made a comeback. "I thought we were friends but then I came to the shocking surprise he'd been laughing at me behind my back by pretending to be some super hero helping me."

"And you thought the best way to get back at me was to flee the city?"

"My choice in leaving was not about you!"

"Yeah, right. Admit it Belén, you wanted to hurt me like I hurt you."

Now it was Belén growing angry, and unlike Barry she had less control of her feelings. She could feel that other side trying to creep its way to the surface. "Stop it! I left for other reasons that didn't include some silly revenge!"

"Are you sure about that?" Barry challenged her, taking a couple steps towards her. Her teary eyes were not going to get him to back down, not this time. "What I did was wrong, I admit that and I take my

responsibility for it. But what you did, hurt not only me, it hurt everyone else. You left us, and you made me feel like it was because of ME me. Do you know what feels like?"

"It wasn't like that," Belén persisted, but her voice was faltering.

Barry shook his head. "And then you come back as a metahuman - because don't you dare lie to me and say you aren't - and let Iris see you."

Belén's eyes shot up to him, surprised he'd figured it out and that he knew of the incident with Iris. "You looked at the results…"

"No, I promised you I wouldn't so I didn't. Iris told me about it, and it doesn't take a genius to figure it out if you were at the scene of your kidnapper's vacation home. You have powers and you've been using them!"

"And I suppose you're gonna fault me again because I didn't tell you?" Belén arched an eyebrow. "Because remember, when I met you I was under the belief you were just Iris' best friend who worked as a forensics."

"But now that you know, and that you're in this world, you need to know that Iris cannot know anything about us."

"What-"

"Joe doesn't want her to know and we have to respect that. But if she keeps writing about this, about you and me and anyone else, she's going to get hurt!"

"But I didn't plan on seeing her, honest! Like I said, no one knows I'm back!"

"I'm just giving you one warning, Belén. This was it."

Belén confusingly watched him head for the door. "So that's just it? You're not going to talk to me anymore?"

"Isn't that what you wanted?" Barry glanced back, reminding her of her requests. "You said if I talked to you again I would be punched."

"I was angry with you, Barry! I could've said a lot of things I clearly didn't mean!"

"Now I'm mad at you, and I think I know I mean it when I say don't talk to me."

Belén stifled a sob as she made to come after him. "B-Barry!"

But he was already gone.

Through her feelings, she felt that same feeling start at her hands. Gasping she looked at her hands and was horrified to see that emerald green beginning to fully cover her skin this time.

"No! No! No! No!" she dashed to the bathroom and slammed the door shut with lock. She put herself in front of the mirror to see parts of her face also sporting some blotches of green. "Go away! Go away!" she shouted at it and screwed her eyes shut, hands firmly gripping the edges of the sink.

"Go away, go away, go away, go away, go away," she repeated like a chant.

~ 0 ~

"And you said that to her? All of that?" Caitlin was gaping towards Barry after hearing the incident between him and the newly arrived Belén.

"Not cool, dude, not cool," Cisco said distractedly while recording Bette's numbers onto the computer.

They had finally met with Bette, under some bad circumstances, and took her back to STAR Labs to get a clearer understanding of her abilities. But due to General Eiling still after her, they were forced to take her into the training area a bit quicker than planned so that Dr. Wells could deal with the man.

"Barry, I don't think that was the best way to greet her," Caitlin gently said, understanding where Barry's anger was coming from.

"I couldn't help it!" Barry exclaimed and paced back and forth beside the table of computers and other objects for Bette's exams. "I was so mad that she came back like nothing!"

"Well, did you expect her to be begging for forgiveness?" Cisco asked, still appearing to be annoyed with him.

"No, Cisco, but I did expect some sort of explanation."

"So did you let her talk? Because you have a tendency not to when you're mad at someone."

"You know, it sounds like you're taking her side, Cisco," Barry suspiciously said, crossing his arms.

"I'm not," Cisco clarified before anything else was said. "It's just...I don't think what needed to be said was said. I wanna talk to Bells and find out why she left."

"Good luck," Barry scoffed and walked off to go see how Bette was doing.

"That went well," Caitlin remarked and eyed a boomerang Cisco had apparently brought for the tests. Bette was supposed to throw the objects to the sky for them to explode but clearly Cisco forgot about that small detail.

"I can't believe he shouted a her," Cisco muttered.

"Look, on some level, it is understandable. We can't blame Barry after these two months. He felt guilty, and he still does. What Belén did was wrong. What did she expect was going to happy?"

~ 0 ~

"What did you expect was going to happen, hm?" Nina stood in front of the couch where Belén was sitting.

The ombre-blonde was sitting cross-legged, currently sniffing as tears fell from her eyes.

"You left abruptly and you didn't even bother giving your friends a call. It's a natural response to be angry."

"I know I deserved it, but it doesn't mean it didn't hurt," Belén meekly argued.

Of course she had expected for Barry and the others to be angry with her decision and the way she executed it. She wasn't expecting some sort of big welcome back nor immediate friendship. Those were the first warnings Felicity, and then others of Starling City told her, but she was firm on her decision.

She still was.

"It doesn't help to cry, Belén," Nina sighed and walked into the kitchen.

"There's nothing more I can do," Belén finally looked up. "I messed up and these are the consequences that I have to endure."

"By crying?" Nina rolled her eyes and plopped down at the table, re-opening the laptop Belén had forgone a while ago.

"Well, I'm sorry but not everyone can be rigid like the great Nina Clarke is," Belén rolled her eyes but the statement seemed to only amuse Nina.

"I'm only saying instead of sitting on my couch and sobbing for your woes, go out there and do something about it."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, but I would start by returning your life to normal. Right now, you're stressed and your mind is clouded with Rayan's case."

"That's because he's my only priority right now. I'm not gonna get distracted."

Nina shook her head and raised her eyes from the computer screen for a moment. "Being what we are - metahumans - is already weird and distancing. Don't add unnecessary negatives to it."

Belén leaned back on the cushion, still pouting. Nina went back to the computer and for a while there was no more conversation. It wasn't until Nina gasped in what sounded like horror that Belén forewent her sad thoughts.

"Nins, what is it?"

"Your friend Iris really wants to die," Nina was blinking wide-eyed at the screen. Belén got up and rushed to go see what was Iris had done now.

"Oh my God," Belén said with a mixture of horror and weariness.

Iris had posted a new article for her blog...with her name written on it this time.

"She just doesn't get the memo," Nina scrolled through the newest post.

"Barry told me Iris posted a new thing about me, but I didn't really think about what would happen."

"This can't keep going. One of these days someone will make the connection she knows 'the Streak' and now you."

"It's my fault," Belén walked away from the table, running her hands through her now messy hair. "And you know, no matter what happens I don't want Iris getting hurt when she's the least one who deserves it."

"So what are you planning on doing?" Nina asked, genuinely curious.

"Exactly what Barry did to me when I most needed it," Belén turned around with a wide smile.

"Oh, no…"

~ 0 ~

Later that night, Iris was busy cleaning up inside Jitters so that she could properly close down and leave. There was a light knock on the door followed by a bell chime.

"Sorry, we're closed," Iris called without looking up from the dishes she was collecting.

"I was hoping you would make an exception."

Iris nearly let the cups in her hands fall after seeing several tendrils of vines passing through the doors. The tendrils swirled up from the floor into the shape of a figure until it became the familiar woman in green Iris had seen. "Oh, my God, it's you!"

Belén stood there in her 'vigilante' outfit, with the flower mask around her eyes. Her hair was covered in the strings of roots that hid her blonde tips.

"You remember from one night?" Belén mused, her modulated voice coming as not a surprise for Iris.

"Actually," Iris beamed and put down her glasses to go retrieve her bag behind the counter. "I knew you were familiar from somewhere and I couldn't just let it go!"

'Course you couldn't," Belén hid her smile by looking to the side.

Iris had pulled out her computer and set it on the counter. "There have been reportings of a mysterious new addition to the Arrow's team…" she turned the computer over to Belén's direction, "...it's you. Isn't it?"

Belén took no steps towards her. Instead, she extended a hand and with a vine sprouting from her palm she brought the computer over to her. She looked intently onto the screen where several news pictures had caught her in low resolution pictures.

"It's so you," Iris concluded on her own after taking a moment to really study the woman.

"Yes," Belén saw no point in denying what was so clear on picture. Slowly, she returned the laptop to the counter. "You looked me up?"

"Of course," Iris said as it were obvious. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because you don't know me, no one knows me."

"I know. Right now, it's all about the Streak. But…" Iris came around the counter with a wide smile, "...girls need the recognition too, right? I saw you save that man last night, and I've been going through some of Star City's news online. You're a hero, just like the Streak. What have you been doing over at Star City though? Or, why did you decide to come here now?"

Belén sucked in a breath. "Can we speak somewhere else? Like, the rooftop?"

Iris nodded her head, forgetting her duties and motioning to the staircase leading up to the roof. Belén just smiled and motioned her go first. Iris did so and was halfway up when she realized the woman had never followed. She ran up the remainder of stairs and came to the surprise of finding Belén already waiting for her.

"How did you…?" Iris laughed, looking around for a clue as to how she was beaten. "How did you do that? You're fast too?"

Belén sat on the ledge of the building, leaning forwards over her knees. "It's much more fun using my vines to climb buildings. I'm no Streak but I do set my own speed records when I turn vine-ish…"

Iris figured and laughed again.

Belén remained serious and stood up. "I need you to stop writing about me, about any of us with powers. The Streak agrees."

"You know each other?" Iris brightened up, and Belén inwardly smacked herself on the face. Apparently, that was all that Iris had heard from her statement. "Are you like...like some superhero duo now? Or-"

"Iris," Belén raised a hand to cut in, "please just listen. It's not safe for you to keep writing about us."

"But there are a lot of people who need someone like you guys right now. To know that you're out there."

"Maybe not," Belén countered. "This writing stuff, isn't it becoming a problem for you and your family? I would assume they would be concerned for your safety. And I have to be honest, putting your name on this newest article wasn't your smartest idea."

"You read my article?" Iris gasped.

Again, she only heard the last of Belén's words.

"You are a fantastic writer and I have no doubt that you will go on to do amazing things in journalism...but just not with these articles."

"Why are you so keen on me letting it go? Don't you want people to know about you? To know about the Streak?"

"Personally, I haven't the faintest idea why you decided to post something about me," Belén put a hand over her chest.

"Because you're just as amazing," Iris shrugged, coming to take a step towards her. "You climb buildings with vines! Not to mention, you actually turn into vines! You are amazing!"

Belén bitterly laughed, and though it was dark Iris could clearly see the woman's green eyes glossy.

"What's the matter?" she gently asked. "You don't believe it?"

Belén looked at her friend with a sad smile. "You don't know me, Iris West. I am not grand, I am not deserving of any articles written for me. You want a hero, you go to the Streak. Me? I'm not a good person."

"Yes, you are," Iris was quick to interject, the soft smile across her lips nearly making Belén believe it. "Why wouldn't you believe it?"

"A good person doesn't hurt their friends nor family - that is exactly what I've done," Belén bit her lip, hating herself for talking about this...but her lips wouldn't stop opening. "I did a bad thing a while back. I was mad at a friend and I made a decision that same day that I knew would hurt him back." Belén then lowly laughed when she made the realization. "I guess, in a way, I wanted him to hurt like he made me hurt. But my decision didn't just hurt him, it hurt a lot more people...and I don't know how to fix it."

Iris wished nothing more than to go over and hug this mysterious woman who in reality seemed a lot more vulnerable than what the media portrayed. It was just a reminder that heroes were still human. "That doesn't make you a bad person," Iris gently declared. "Everyone makes mistakes, but what matters is how you intend on fixing them. This doesn't stop you from being a hero in my eyes."

"I'm not a hero, Iris," Belén reiterated.

Iris smirked, tilting her head in that way that told Belén it was already set in stone. "Too late. I just need a name to call you. Do you have one?"

"No," Belén chuckled and sniffed. "Because, as I said, I'm not a hero. I'm not doing this for glory or recognition."

"So why do you?"

"For someone very important in my life," Belén thought to her elder twin brother.

"Yeah?" Iris stepped forwards again. "Well then hear my side. I have this friend, and he had something terrible happen to him when he was a kid. His whole life, he's been telling stories about this impossible thing. And people laughed at him. And shrinks analyzed him. And he's been searching for an explanation ever since. But now, suddenly, it's like he's lost his faith. But you and the Streak... you two are proof that he wasn't crazy. Help me save my friend."

Belén could've burst into more sobs if she didn't have more control of herself. "He is a very lucky guy, you know."

"Believe me, he's not," Iris confided in a dramatic whisper. "He's overly clumsy and everything happens to him whenever it comes to dropping something, crashing into someone, or even just making friends. But this thing that happened to him as a kid, I can help him with that. This is why I'm doing my blog, please help me."

Belén raised a turned palm and slowly created a small, pink flower. But it was a specific flower, one that Iris saw a couple times.

"Is that an Azalea?" she pointed.

"Mhm. It's the source of my powers, apparently," Belén had a vine take the flower to Iris. "The thing about these flowers, they're adorable and they're beautiful...but they are also known for their deadly side."

Iris took the fragile flower into her hands and looked at Belén, confused.

"What I'm intending on doing others may call a suicide mission. I don't want you getting caught in the crossfire because of an article you wrote. Keep the flower, change your blog. Goodbye."

"But-" Iris called to the woman in vain as she dropped from the ledge again. She looked at her new flower and walked back into the building.

~ 0 ~

"Maritza's been slacking," Angie put a laptop in front of Rayan Palayta. "There's a new metahuman in town as reported by Iris West. Doesn't your sister know that girl?"

Rayan snatched the laptop to his lap and read the article Iris had written. "This one's different. She's helping the Streak. See, this is what I knew would happen if we let that speedster keep doing his thing."

Angie got up from the couch, looking suddenly determined. "Let me take care of her. I've been dying to finally debut out in the streets."

Rayan gave her a questionable scoff. "You? Are you serious?"

Angie nodded. "Well, she's not going to want to help you take down Wells and STAR Labs, might as well get her out of the way."

"Fine, but you'll eliminate her without a mistake," Rayan warned.

"Watch me," Angie smirked, more than ready to go out.

~ 0 ~

Belén wasn't sure who'd she find in STAR Labs that early noon she walked in. She didn't exactly know what she was going to tell anyone, much less how to even greet them. But she figured she had to start somewhere.

"Hello?" she peered inside the cortex room, only to find a ginger woman inside.

Bette glanced back and immediately took a defensive stance against her. Belén came out from the side with her hands raised.

"I'm a good one, promise," she said, but Bette still didn't look very convinced.

"Belén," Dr. Wells' voice startled the ombre-blonde from behind and made her spin around to meet the man.

"Dr. Wells," Belén put a hand over her chest, "Sorry, you just…"

"It's nice to see you back," he remarked as he wheeled further inside the room, giving Bette a reassuring nod everything was fine.

"Um, yeah," Belén sighed and turned in their direction. "I think you're probably the only one who can say that about me."

"Nonsense, I'm sure Cisco would be delighted to see you're back. He's in the experiment room if you're looking for him."

"Yeah, actually, I was," Belén glanced towards Bette. "Um, hi. I don't think we've met yet."

"Bette," the ginger said, but she didn't seem quite interested in making conversation. It worked just fine for Belén as she was more interested in seeing her friends.

"Belén," Wells called just as she crossed the doorway, "I know you must be having trouble adjusting to your abilities but please to take in consideration that STAR Labs is always here to help you."

Belén softly smiled at the kind words. "Thank you, Dr. Wells. I may just take your words to heart."

"We'll see what we can do," Wells reassured her and she went on just slightly happier than before. How could she know that he actually could care less whether her abilities developed or not? The only reason he extended the offer was for appearances and because of who she would end up being in the future.

Not to mention the losses she would end up suffering.

~ 0 ~

Cisco was focused hard on some sort of device in his work room when he heard a knock on the door behind.

"Can I come in?" Belén's voice startled him enough to drop what he was holding. She nervously smiled his way as he turned on his chair.

"Belén!"

Belén was relieved when Cisco rushed to meet her with a tight hug. There had to be someone who would be happy to see her right?

"Cisco, it's so good to see you," she pulled away and chuckled. "I missed you."

"Maybe next time you shouldn't leave!" Cisco playfully replied with and led her to a chair next to his.

"You're mad too," Belén sighed and sat down.

"I'm not mad, I'm just...so confused. Why'd you do it? Barry thinks it's because he didn't tell you about...you know…"

"Look, my decision may have taken that as part of the motive but it was also to learn to control myself, to learn how to fight." Belén lightly smiled and put a hand on the table. She let the tips of her nails release thin, small vines that soon rushed to cover up a book nearby. "Two months ago, I could barely do this."

"Barry was right, you were a metahuman," Cisco gawked. "Why did you keep it a secret? We could've helped you."

"Like I told Barry earlier, for me you guys were all just regular people. How could I go up to any of you say 'Oh, by the way guys, I seemed to have developed plant powers'. That's not exactly something easy to say. The only reason Nina knows is because she covered for me at the hospital."

"And she's the he only one that knows…?"

"Yes," Belén eyed him with plead, "And I beg you not to tell anyone out of this building. My dad still thinks I'm at Starling City with my friend Laurel and my mom - as of yesterday night - thinks I'm back with my dad."

"Neither knows where your are then?"

"Not even my sister. And they can't know.'

"But why?"

"Because I have to do something that isn't safe and I don't want any of them getting hurt."

"But...if you're doing this then you're gonna get hurt...and none of us want that."

Belén sighed, giving him a sad look in return. "I don't think 'everyone' can be spoken for."

Cisco immediately understood and reached for her hand, giving a warm pat. "Hey, look, Barry's going to cool down. But no matter what he's said he wouldn't want you getting hurt."

"I want to believe that," Belén whispered, her eyes drifting to the side as she uncharacteristically became quiet.

It was then that Caitlin happened to walk in, and Belén found herself in another round of questions and explanations. She didn't care, though, she was just relieved that Caitlin hadn't expressed any hostility against her (though she knew she very well deserved it). They spoke briefly about her powers, seeing

Belén wasn't very willing to release specific information about that side just yet. Their conversation steered more towards what she was doing in Starling City for the two past months, but even those were given short sentence answers.

They moved back to the main room, where Cisco came to the disappointing news that Bette had decided to leave.

"That's funny," Belén remarked by the side of Cisco's chair, the latter silently pouting for his loss, "She didn't mention anything about leaving when I bumped into her earlier."

"She wasn't doing well," Dr. Wells briefly explained. "Bette's metahuman abilities weren't exactly the best."

"How do you mean?"

"To make it short, Bette is literally a bomb," Caitlin made a face. "Anything she touches goes boom in about five seconds."

"Wow," Belén raised her eyebrows, "That can't be easy. Even with humans?" she asked for a clarification.

"Aha…"

"Ouch," Belén comfortingly placed a hand over Cisco's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Cisco. I'm sure-"

"Don't use the 'there's other fish in the sea' line on me," he playfully warned her, making her chuckle.

Her laughter was cut short when Barry walked into the room. She locked eyes with him and so she straightened up, meekly bidding goodbye. "I should get going…"

"Stay," Caitlin was the one to say, briefly glancing at Barry in a warning manner. She was not going to stand for a childish act from neither side.

"Where's Bette?" Barry decided to focus on anything else that wasn't Belén.

"She left," Cisco answered glumly.

"What do you mean? Where did she go?"

"She didn't say," Dr. Wells gave him the same answer he'd given to the others earlier.

"Well, where the hell could she be? We have to find her, she can't be on her own." Barry walked over to the desk, intending on starting a search for her. Cisco jumped on the opportunity to see the woman again and quickly went to do it himself.

"I got back on the military feed. Looks like they've gone to the waterfront to rendezvous with Bette."

"She's turning herself in," Caitlin realized and quickly looked at the others, all silently agreeing that was most certainly not going to happen.

"She's with the military?" Belén gaped, her eyes widening. "Barry, you can't go in alone. That's too dangerous."

Barry ignored her in favor of retrieving his suit. It had been left out in plain sight now that Belén knew the secret. Iris never came to the building as they had noticed long ago.

"Barry!" she cut him once he returned in the suit. "For God's sake, you're angry with me fine, but that doesn't mean I don't want to help you."

They had a mini-staredown that neither seemed keen on backing down from. Barry was silently wondering where Belén acquired this new sense of boldness she most certainly didn't own two months ago. He left the thought when he remembered Bette was going to get herself into trouble. Without saying a word, he sped out of the room.

Belén bitterly laughed as she spun towards the doors. "He's not getting rid of me that easily."

"What are you planning…?" Cisco recognized that idea expression that was currently taking over her face.

"I learned a new trick while I was gone," Belén gave him a sideways smirk. "Can you give me the location please?"

~ 0 ~

Under certain influence, Bette had planned a fake surrender with General Eiling by the waterfront of the city. But of course, the older man didn't believe it. That was why he was trying to be smart by pitching her an idea he thought she couldn't pass up.

"All over the world, people are plotting to destroy our country. To end our lives. Brave American soldiers are gonna die in that fight, but they don't have to. Because of you, we could have victory."

"All I've ever wanted was to make the world a safer place. And it will be when you're not in it." Bette chucked towards him and the rest of the soldiers small, purple glowing spheres that soon exploded and cause mayhem.

While most soldiers were unconscious, Eiling remained half awake. Bette walked towards him with one hand extended. She would blow him into smithereens. Barry arrived and blocked her way.

"What are you doing here?" Bette gasped at the sight of him.

"Being a soldier doesn't mean you're a murderer. Don't become one now."

In the midst of their distraction, Eiling had raised a gun from his spot on the ground and fired. Bette did a spin and fell to the ground with a bullet lodged in the middle of her chest.

Barry panicked and pulled off his mask as he got down beside her. "I'm sorry. I didn't see him."

"Don't be. It's not your fault. I'm glad you stopped me," Bette flashed a light smile.

"I'm gonna get you back to S.T.A.R. Labs."

Bette shook her head, feeling her strength fading fast. "Barry, Dr. Wells. He... he…" but her eyes closed before she could finish the sentence.

"Barry, watch out!"

Barry glanced over his shoulder in time to see her shoot a couple of thick vines that pinned Eiling to his spot.

"What are you doing here?" Barry hissed, though he still eyed the leather outfit on her. He remembered it vaguely from an old news report Iris once showed him in the past. "You were at Starling City," he whispered his realization. However, the brightening purple glow beside Barry grabbed both their attention.

"She's going to blow up," Belén rushed forwards.

"Guys, we have a problem," Barry spoke with the earpiece.

"Is Bette okay?" came Cisco's anxious voice seconds later.

"No. Eiling killed her. She's glowing. She's gonna detonate."

Caitlin gasped. "Oh, my God, a mass that size, the explosion, it would be... Devastating. Barry, you have to get her away from the city.

"But there's no time…"

Belén glanced towards the waterfront and suddenly shifted to Barry. "Random question...but can you run on water? You know, like they do in the movies?"

At first, Barry was intending on scolding her for asking such a ridiculous question at a time like this...but then he understood. "How fast do I need to go to run on water?" he quickly asked of the STAR Labs employees.

Cisco began making the calculations. "Assuming your weight... 450 pounds of force per step for vertical suspension. Accounting for fluid drag…"

"Approximately 650 miles an hour…" Dr. Wells figured out just before and spoke up.

"You have to outrun the blast or you'll die too," Caitlin warned.

Barry nodded and pulled his mask over his face again. He looked at Belén for a minute, this time not needing to voice his instruction. She got up and took several steps back.

"Stay mad with me if you must, but...good luck," she told him meekly from her spot.

For a minute, Barry's anger faltered. He shook his head then and picked up Bette, finding there was no time to waste. He sped off towards the waterfront, unable to hear Belén's small laugh as she watched him leave.

Her happiness didn't last long when she was shoved to the ground by something behind her. The moment she raised her head she saw blonde streaks of hair.

"Well, this city just doesn't stop with its freaky heroes," the new woman spoke up.

"We're called metahumans," Belén growled and jumped to her feet. "And let me guess, you work with Plasticine too?"

"I don't work for her," the blonde corrected. Belén desperately tried to get some good clues on this woman's identity, but much like Belén and Barry, her face was covered with a pixelated, half-mask. Her attire was a mixture of bright colors but the gold seemed to be her thing. Still, Belén didn't think too much. She thrust her hand forwards and shot a round of thorns in the woman's way. She was careful to have them miss any of the unconscious soldiers nearby.

While some of them did graze the blonde woman, it didn't cause much pain. "Ha! You're not fighting Plasticine now, sweetheart. I'm Pixel!" She literally disintegrated and reappeared behind Belén to give her a good roundhouse kick.

Belén went down to the ground, groaning. They were momentarily struck with a semi-earthquake which turned out to be the reverberation of Bette's explosion from the water. Pixel saw the Streak making way back to them, while simultaneously trying to evade the large wave behind him.

"Better get on with it!" she smirked but Belén shot back with a vine, slamming her down to the ground.

Belén didn't give her a chance to fight back and punched the woman out cold with another vine, least that's what she thought. Pixel, holding back her groans, reached for something in her back.

"Don't get near her!" Barry's sharp, irritated shout made Belén flinch and freeze on her spot. "She's dangerous."

"This isn't Plasticine!" Belén turned to him. "This is someone new! Don't you see? They're gaining numbers! And I have to know what it's got to do with my brother! I'll-"

A second gunshot rang in the air.

Belén gasped before falling over.

Barry acted fast and sped towards her, catching her mere inches from the ground. Her mask has dissolved into nothing, giving a clear view of her face.

"Oh my God…" Pixel muttered from her spot on the ground, her hand still holding the gun.

Normally, Barry would've fought off the man until he had answers but Belén's current condition required immediate attention. Without saying a word, he sped out of the place.

~ 0 ~

The first thing Belén was aware of when she became mildly conscious was the sharp pain on her lower back. She registered the fact she was on a bed of some sort. So, when she opened her eyes and saw she was in the STAR Labs room, it came as no surprise.

"O-ow…" she groaned and turned her head to the side, hoping that whatever hurt just stopped.

"You can't heal fast, can you?"

"Hmm?"

Barry was leaning against the threshold, his arms crossed. Belén could only look at him for so long before remembering all of that day.

"My genes didn't change like yours did," she replied quietly, her eyes drifting to a metal, wheeled table against a wall on her left. "Though my body does seem act more like a mushy ground for light injuries, more severe ones will affect me like normal."

"Do you remember what happened?"

"Um...there was Pixel, and then...I punched her...then you came, and...there was a funny noise in the air…"

"You were shot," Barry reminded, slowly leaning off the hinge.

"Hmm," Belén mused with a crooked smile. "I suppose this was all planned by Plasticine. It only makes sense."

"Why would they want you dead?" Barry asked the pressing question.

"It's kind of obvious, Barry. They're bad guys, it's what they do."

"Don't insult my intelligence," Barry shook his head. "Funny thing, I was going over Iris' blog and it just so happens she posted something new about a certain metahuman...that arrived from Starling City."

"Can we not do-"

"You left Central City with Felicity, didn't you?"

And there was the ringing question Belén had dreaded of the moment she returned.

"Yes, yes I did," she whispered.

"All this time I have felt completely awful about our argument that day. I understand it was difficult for you to forgive me for keeping all this-" he gestured to the lab "-a secret from you. I get it. But you did not have the right to turn the tables on me." By this time, he had begun to pace and Belén's eyes struggled to follow him throughout the room. "Because I don't care what you say, you were trying to get payback. But to put yourself in danger by actually going with the Arrow - and don't deny that's where you went because the news reports say otherwise - was completely ridiculous! I know the Arrow, I know what he does, and what he does is not what you should be learning!"

"You're right," Belén finally inputted a word, "about almost everything."

"Well…" Barry made a face at her, intending on staying mad but the way her glossy green eyes were looking at him made it more difficult. He exhaled dramatically and walked over to a chair, bringing it beside her.

"I did leave to get payback, and for that I'm sorry," Belén sighed. "But that wasn't my main reason. I realized that I didn't have control over myself, emotionally and physically."

"You're a metahuman, we could've helped you."

"No, you couldn't have. You would go incredibly easy on me and who would win there? Caitlin would go all 'mom' on me whenever I got a scratch. Cisco...well, Cisco would be the worst of them all. I love him but he's an overprotective friend. The only one that would perhaps help me for real would be Dr. Wells. Going with Felicity seemed like the only logical thing to do. It wasn't easy to convince Oliver - er, the Arrow - to help me, but Felicity stepped in and then my friend Laurel. When he agreed he saw me as nothing more than a student. There was no easy win, no light training. That is what I needed."

"And in the meantime not even a call ever crossed your mind? We were worried sick over you, Belén. Having your father tell us you were fine wasn't what we were looking for."

"I'm sorry…"

"You should be," Barry said firmly, but this time Belén noticed there was a lighter tone in his voice.

"I''m sorry I made you feel bad for two months. You have every right to be mad with me," Belén sighed in resignation.

"I was mad...and then someone shot you. I lost someone I barely started considering a friend, I don't really want to lose someone I've known longer."

"I wouldn't like to lose a friend like you either…"

There was a minute of silence afterwards.

"How about we move forwards, then?" Barry asked, giving her a light smile. "Maybe we can get back to where we were before all this happened."

Belén chuckled, and for a moment Barry couldn't tell if it was a genuine laugh or if it was an after effect of the anesthesia Nina put on her earlier. "Barry, I think that's quite impossible. You now run faster than the speed of light, and I'm part plant. I don't think we can ever get back to where we were."

"Sorry, Belén…"

"You know…you can start calling me Bells again if you'd like. My friends usually do that…"

Barry laughed and nodded his head. "Bells. That does feel nice to say again."

Belén smiled for a moment before feeling another jab of pain on her back. "Oh, that hurts."

"Oh, don't try to move much!" Barry quickly instructed. "The others should be back and Cait will help you with your things."

"Guess it's a good thing no one knows I'm back," Belén forced herself to sit up a little.

"Cisco told me about your little idea and your suicide mission. I don't agree with your strategies."

"Well, it's a good thing I didn't ask."

"Belén, you're doing this for Rayan, aren't you?"

The way Belén remained silent told Barry all he wanted to know.

"I thought you gave up on that…"

"Because I couldn't defend myself nor my family," Belén shook her head. "But now that I can, I am going to keep looking for my brother. Plasticine sending Pixel after me is proof enough that there's something going on concerning my brother. I have to find him, whether he's alive or...dead," she gulped at the idea, "But I have to find him so that I can finally put this all to rest."

"You want to find him?"

"Yes, I do."

"And you're not gonna stop at anything?"

"Nope."

"Fine, then STAR Labs is also going to help you."

"What?"

Barry stood up from his chair, looking like there was nothing else to discuss. "Now that you know who I am, and that you do have powers, we can work together - side by side - and find your brother."

"B-Barry, I can't...I can't ask you to do that," Belén said, the idea making he stomach churn.

"It's a good thing I wasn't asking, then," Barry flashed her a smirk.

"But...but you...you can't...n-not…" Belén was left sputtering as Barry turned to leave. "I don't want you helping me!"

"It's too late for that!"

Belén tried getting out of the bed but her back still hurt far too much for any movements like that. She was forced back to her bed. "Barry Allen, you get back here right now!"

Barry listened to her her shouting as he made his way out of the room, wearing a very widened smirk across his lips.

Just one small payback wouldn't hurt anyone.

[rebellingstagnationblog]

2019 Geronimo Christmas Fics

That’s right, we’re doing it again! 25 new Geronimo fics published December 1-25.

The title? “That’s Christmas to Me”

The playlist? All Pentatonix songs

The theme? Well, why don’t you see for yourself? Here’s a first look at day 1

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

[[MORE]]

This world was dark, even for her tastes.

Physically, that was.

She could not yet speak for the metaphorical; she had only just arrived, after all, and rumors were nothing to base one’s perceptions on.

Searchlights were the primary source of light, their long beams stretching up into the dark sky, making a long sweep from one end of the metropolis to the other. If there was a moon or stars, she couldn’t tell. The searchlights were too bright to allow anything in the vast vacuum of space to shine down onto the world below.

Her boots crunched on the newly fallen snow, a satisfying snap snap snap as she made her way down the street. There was no question as to the direction she was headed. The building in the center of town was the one to which the searchlights were fixed, giving off its position with all the finesse of a disco ball.

Darkwarrior Duck might be the most fearsome of all the Darkwings in the multiverse, but he still had the same ego. The same lack of sense when it came to anything involving stealth or sophistication.

At least there was order here. Her simmering irritation was soothed at seeing how precisely the citizens moved about. Crossed the street at crosswalks. Cars merged with clear signals for at least 300 feet before changing lanes. Everyone stuck to their side of the sidewalk, eyes forward without any sort of technology out to distract them.

It was because of this — this enforcement of rules and regulations — that she was walking down this sidewalk to begin with.

She crossed the street with a few citizens and continued marching toward the building that set her teeth on edge. On her own. No one else was heading anywhere close to this part of town.

Dark ebony robots, the shapes of which resembled Darkwarrior’s head with claws extending out below their beaks hovered before her. What a terrible design. Their only option for movement was strictly airborn since they had no legs. And it seemed rather arrogant to shape something after one's own features.

Then again.

Look at their designer.

“Identification, please,” came the modulated voice. Weak and wavering compared to those in her own world.

She stared unblinkingly at the robot. “Ana Di Lengo.”

The robot hovered, bobbing up and down gently, completely silent for a few moments. “Error. Death records exist for one Ana Di Lengo. Identification, please.”

She sent the bot — and whoever was watching through it's cameras — a thin smile. “Death records exist for the Ana in this universe perhaps. I, however, am not from here.”

The robot fell into silence again. And moved aside as the door behind it swung open.

Complete blackness yawned before her, the building imposing and endless. She stepped through without a moments hesitation.

It was all for show, this grandiose structure. The security out front meant to intimidate the visitor and give them some idea of who they were about to deal with.

But Ana was not intimidated.

The blackness inside was not so complete that she couldn't see where she was going. The lobby was empty, a colossal curved staircase curling upwards that took her to the second level. Into a rounded antechamber, which also was empty.

The walls were fitted with large panels of glass, windows revealing the sprawling city around them. Pale snow blanketed the streets and buildings, dulling the lights that tried their best to illuminate the darkness. In the center of this rounded chamber was a circular platform, along one side of which were stacked rows of computer monitors like bricks in the facade of a building. They showed the city from different angles, some stationary shots evidently from fixed cameras and others moving, likely from robots on patrol, sending back their feed.

Within this half-circle of monitors sat one solitary chair. Padded. With low arms and a wide back. Almost wide enough to obscure the figure that was sitting in it. Almost.

The room was not so empty after all.

The chair was facing away from her. But she didn't need to see his face to know who was lying in wait.

“You're very far from home,” came a purr out of the darkness.

Ana came to stand at the edge of the platform, hands tucked behind her back and head held high. “Turn around and face me, Drake. Where are your manners?”

The figure stiffened either at her tone or at the casual name she called him. Whichever the reason, Ana felt her beak twist into a triumphant smirk.

She allowed it to fall as the chair swiveled around. No need to show off.

Within the plush upholstery sat a familiar figure. Wearing the ridiculous purple outfit with a large brimmed fedora in a matching shade. He had foregone the button down suit and substituted it with something akin to a jumpsuit that was belted at the hips. Military grade boots — steel toed by the looks of them — would have blended into the darkness if they hadn't been polished to a shine. The infantile cape was secured around his shoulders, tucked underneath sizable spiked shoulder armor, making him all the more imposing and broad.

There was still a mask secured around his face, but his eyes glowed red. It was into these that Ana stared, unabashed and unafraid.

As Darkwarrior Duck sized her up.

She in her own black uniform. Much crisper and more impressive than his spiked armor. Drake was many things; subtle was not one of them, no matter the universe.

“Are we going to discuss why you're here? Or is this a staring contest?” he asked, his voice carefully controlled and giving away nothing. She was almost impressed. Almost.

“Don’t joke with me, boy,” Ana snapped. “You can guess why I'm here, surely.”

Darkwarrior leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in his militaristic gloves. “It must be something big if the great Ana Di Lengo traveled all the way from the Posiverse to visit me.”

“Oh, yes, bravo,” Ana intoned, glaring at Darkwarrior down her beak. “Come, come, Drake. If we are to be allies, I must be able to trust that you can put two and two together on your own.”

He frowned. “My name is Darkwarrior.”

Ana narrowed her eyes a fraction. “Not to me.”

Darkwarrior eyed her.

She let the silence linger.

Silence is a funny thing. Everyone is quick to break it. It makes people uncomfortable, you see. The lack of noise makes them believe they need to be filling the void with something. If you stay quiet long enough, your counterpart will inevitably start talking.

“Allies, you and I?” Darkwarrior asked. “Against whom?”

Case in point.

Silence: a leader’s most effective tool.

“Against the monstrosity that is Gosalyn Mallard Prime.” Saying the name was like a bad taste on her tongue. Gosalyn Mallard had come into Ana’s world to be put on trial and punished for her rash actions of traveling around the multiverse. She had not only escaped her lifelong sentence, but had incentivized the people of Ana’s world — the Posiverse — to uprise and fight against the rules that had been put in place to protect them. Even Ana’s second in command, her own son, had gone against her and joined ranks with the Gosalyn from their own world.

Gosalyn Mallard Prime had ruined everything.

And Ana would show that girl the justice that was in the wake of such haphazard and reckless rule breaking.

Ana took a breath.

Patience.

All in good time.

Darkwarrior raised an eyebrow, still peering over his steepled fingers. “She has a big support system. To go against her is to go against them all.”

“Hence why I am here.”

Smirking, Darkwarrior leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You need me.”

“And your robots. When going up against repeat rule breakers, it's best to come prepared with the full force of the law.”

Darkwarrior Duck was grinning fully now, a cunning curl of his beak.

Another voice, however, came from the darkness. A slighter sound, weaker. “We can offer our full forces.”

Ana glanced to where the voice had come from and felt her fingers twitch at the sight, ready to grab a weapon. But she stayed her hand.

It was another Gosalyn. This one brown haired and softer. More reserved. She seemed to have some semblance of rules and etiquette, her hands hanging at her sides and her expression one of respect as she surveyed Ana with her green eyes.

Ana pushed aside her confusion — the entire point of the Darkwarrior universe was that a Gosalyn didn’t exist, after all, so how one could be here was mind numbing — and inclined her head. “Together, I am confident that we can accomplish our goal.”

“No violence,” this brown-haired Gosalyn said as she stepped fully out of the shadows and stood beside Darkwarrior.

Ana studied them together, the dark uncompromising version of her son and this girl who shouldn’t exist. Really, neither of them should exist. This universe was a blight on an otherwise perfect system.

But, desperate times.

Ana bowed her head. “No violence,” she echoed.

The brown haired Gosalyn nodded. “Then we will help you bring order to the Prime Universe.”

Ana sent a thin smile to the girl. “Might I ask who you are?”

“Christine.”

Still a Gosalyn, but going by a different name. Interesting. Ana would need to study her records to find out where this one had come from, for it surely wasn’t here. Could not be here.

“You have a bright future ahead of you, my dear.” Ana looked between the two. “Shall we settle on a date?”

Darkwarrior finally stood, gesturing off to the side. “We can use my consulting room.”

“There’s less potential of being overheard in there,” Christine offered, a smile gracing her beak as she led the way.

Ana nodded once in agreement before following the impossible girl.

P.S. Since I’m not taking requests for stories/songs this year for the main story, I will happily take holiday related requests from people if they’re interested. DM me so we can talk more!

[agirlnamedally]

Hi Ally!!

Hey anon!

I didn’t do the ½ for HHD either, if that helps :) I did ¾ HHD in Year 11 and it ended up being my lowest score because I put in far more effort for Year 12. I still got around a 37 for that class I think which I wasn’t upset about, but I don’t know if you’re needing higher!

I’m quite a visual learner, so I found it helpful making things like mind maps and cue cards. I also really recommend teaching topics to someone else, because it cements the information into your brain in a more colloquial way that the textbooks do. Some people use their dog, but I’d recommend a parent or a friend because they can ask questions and deepen your understanding.

HHD is a lot of practical, common sense kind of information, but it just goes beyond what we would regularly know. I’m quite passionate about nutrition so I found that module really interesting, and for the other topics I found it helpful to make posters and get a little more creative. I find that using your hands (whether writing, drawing, cutting and pasting) over simply typing allows the information to stick in the brain a lot more.

Ask your teachers for help if you need it, ask for extra work, see them at lunch time and get them to go over your work and see where you could improve (I did this with English and it ended up being my best subject). They want you to do well and will always be happy to give you advice. 

For English, I got a list of prompts from my teacher that was practically all the possible prompts we could receive on the final exam. During SWOTVAC, in addition to writing other full-length essays (always follow the formula they teach you, it’s what examiners will be looking for and it just makes writing them super easy) I sat down and jotted down dot points on what I would write for each of the prompts. 

I still have all my old notes so I’ll grab them and see what I can find.

For example, we had ‘Conflict’ as our context theme, so in the front of my book for that I have a list of my favourite quotes I liked to use in essays. That included:

“Conflict is inevitable, but combat is optional” - Max Lucade

“The test of a man is not where he stands in times of comfort and convenience, but where he stands in times of conflict and great strife” - Martin Luther King Jr

“All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing” - Edmund Burke

“The hottest place in hell is reserved for those who remain neutral in times of great moral conflict” - Martin Luther Kind Jr

“The greatest conflicts are not between two people, but between one person and himself” - Steven Dillon 

I then have a page with lists of synonyms to use in my essays, for things like ‘conflict’, ‘encountering conflict,’ causes of the conflict, and consequences of such.

After that, each page is dedicated to one person, era or theme to do with conflict that I could confidently draw upon. I have one about Gandhi, genocide in Rwanda, The Stolen Generation, Izzeldin Abuelaish (one of the most inspiring people I ever researched, and am only just now realising how much he would have impacted me), the Tiananmen Square Massacre/tank man, Nelson Mandela, the Civil Rights movement, and other topics that I was interested in (that my teacher had approved).

We then also obviously had language analysis (my absolute favourite), text analysis and context (we studied The Reluctant Fundamentalist, The Secret River and The Crucible). For each of those I have pages with my favourite and most relevant quotes that I’d pretty much memorised come exam time by writing them so much, themes of each novel (i.e.: nostalgia, america post 9/11, identity, appearance, taking on a role) and then quotes or scenes that relate to each. I had pages for literary devices like framing, narrator unreliability, dramatic irony, contrast, symbolism, the silent listener,  etc. Finally I had character descriptions, which was mostly just to help me out remembering everyone’s role in The Crucible haha.

For language analysis, at the very front of my book I have a chart that I made with as many different tone words I could think of, on a sliding scale from Accepting, Passionate, Detached, Questioning, Attacking and Demonising. I had verbs for language analysis, phrases to describe the writer’s writing, more verbs, and basically just memorised all of these and used them as much as I could.

I hope this helps!