#May put previews here but post full chapters on AO3

[hazyange1s]

Incendiary (S.S. x F!MC)

Chapter 6

Summary: Fresh off the Hogwarts Express, Sixth Year Raegan DesRosiers has her sights set on nothing more than making the Quidditch team and finally having time to focus on herself.

Of course, where's the fun in sticking to a plan?

Instead, she begins to uncover the origins of ancient magic, which puts her life and power at greater risk than ever. But Raegan has always been one to take the bull by the horns, determined to be an agent of the change she seeks.

Then along comes Sebastian Sallow: the one wild card she could never control.

Burdened by his own dark past and seeking a way back on the right path…and into the heart of his reluctant friend, he becomes entangled in Raegan’s mysteries once more without restraints or reservations, save for this: the suspicion that she’s keeping more than one harrowing secret.

Not that he doesn’t have a few of his own.

The two might just need to look into a mirror - to mend what is fractured before it entirely falls apart.

Chapter Synopsis: Raegan’s got a full plate and yet still finds herself feeling empty, seeking something to fill that hole - though she may get more than she’s bargained for, if Sebastian has anything to say about it.

Words: 4.6k

Rating: T (some ~scandalous~ inner ramblings from seb and adult language)

After posting solely on other sites since starting this story, I decided to add tumblr to the mix since I’ve been more active on here recently. This is kind of a preview, if you will - if you want to read the first five chapters head over to wattpad or ao3.

It was a good thing Raegan had favored the outdoors over the summer because, in the days that followed her visit to the Map Chamber, the only sunlight she saw was during Advanced Flying class - save for the times she chose to do her reading in the meadow Vivarium. If that even counted.

It took a mediocre twenty-four hours for Raegan to succumb to loneliness. Without Sebastian, Ominis, Diana, or any of the others sitting beside her, the only company she had was that of her phoenix.

(Never mind Soleil’s penchant for bringing her small rodents he’d caught in the tall grasses of the fields).

Of course, her isolation during such a busy time of year had everyone worrying all the more - Garreth had started to conveniently appear in the common room every time Raegan returned before bed, no doubt waiting up like a concerned mother to a rebellious teenager, and Natsai was less than subtle about sneaking glances at Raegan as she changed to inspect for any more cuts or bruises.

As much as she loved them all, for one of the first times in Raegan’s life, she was starting to appreciate having some time to herself.

Not that that time was proving to be very productive. Though Raegan and her friends had already scoured the library from top to bottom for any reference to ancient magic last year, Raegan took to resuming the search.

With little luck.

What was that thing people said about the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results?

Raegan was self-aware enough to know when she was in a rut and confident enough to know there was always a way out.

But that hope grew weaker and weaker with each discarded book and pounding headache from lack of sleep. As much as she knew her friends would be more than willing, she did not dare ask for help.

Even (and especially) from the one person Raegan knew would be the best for the job.

Gods, school just started, and already I need a vacation.

Luckily, a reprieve offered itself up by the end of their first week back at Hogwarts - delivered to her on a silver platter Friday evening.

Classes were over for the day, and instead of retreating into the solitude of her secret room, Raegan made her way down to the Quidditch pitch with the other hopeful Gryffindors. There was quite the crowd already assembled, hopefuls from every year clutching brooms both bought and borrowed and donning uniforms in varying states of wear.

The sixth years all seemed to converge in a semi-circle at the front of the pack; Garreth, Natty, Leander, Nellie, and Eric were all chattering excitedly by the time Raegan managed to find a spare uniform from the locker rooms.

“Ah, there she is!” Garreth beamed when he spotted Raegan approaching the group, pulling her into his side with an arm slung around her shoulder.

“Was just telling Eric and Nellie how you’re about to give them a run for their money. In fact …how about we make it interesting? Who’s betting?”

Last week, Raegan likely wouldn’t have thought twice about the casual gesture, or the way his eyes caught the light when they met hers. After the incident in Potions…well she had started to pay extra attention to the little things she'd previously dismissed.

Like how he was always finding some excuse to touch her, or that he was constantly singing her praises, or the spots of color in Garreth’s freckled cheeks that only seemed to bloom in her presence.

Raegan wasn’t clueless. But she was prone to a healthy dose of denial now and then, apparently.

“I’ll take that bet.” Raegan said, a smile creeping onto her lips.

Soon enough, Garreth’s pockets were clinking with silver and bronze coins, and a debate had broken out amongst the group - catalyzed by Leander’s refusal to bet on Eric, which snowballed into a fantastic display of masculine indignation.

Thankfully, the shrill shriek of a whistle cut through the din, and every Gryffindor in attendance went silent to face their Captain.

Raegan, who fancied herself a purveyor of fine taste, could not see what all the hype was about. Isaac Cooper was relatively handsome; with a mop of golden curls and tan skin, but he wasn’t anything special . Though considering how much Ominis raved about missing Quidditch games, she supposed it likely wasn’t just his looks that got people going.

“Welcome newcomers, and welcome back to our returning members. Right. This year, we’re starting fresh. Everybody gets a clean slate, got that?”

Several scoffs and murmurs of disbelief echoed amongst who Raegan assumed to be the existing teammates.

“Those of you who were on the team two years ago will get priority, but that doesn’t mean you won't be replaced.” Isaac said evenly, gaze taking a moment to settle on each student as he addressed the crowd.

“We will rotate positions every ten minutes, so make sure you put your best foot forward. That being said: I’m sure we’re all anxious to get to dinner, so first up is…”

Isaac began rattling off a list of names - Garreth and Natty were the only ones of real note. It left Raegan’s mind to wander as she sized up the other hopefuls - most of them hardly able to walk upright without difficulty on a good day.

Most of them knew it, too, and had shown up anyway.

Every Gryffindor loved a bit of glory.

“Hey,” Garreth nudged her shoulder, strapping on elbow pads as he spoke. “Better get him out of here before Isaac gets wind of a spy and goes ballistic.”

He answered her questioning glance with a vague gesture of his gloved hand towards the entrance, where indeed a spy had arrived clad in green and silver.

“My guess is he’s here for a good luck kiss.” Garreth taunted.

There was something behind his eyes even with that flippant demeanor - a question.

”Well, I don’t need luck, so he made the trip for nothing.” Raegan said half-heartedly, watching Sebastian’s figure approach them casually.

“However, I will give you one before I kick him out.”

Garreth’s brows shot to the clouds, but he had little time to bring himself back to Earth before Raegan leaned forward and bestowed a peck on his heated cheek, popping up on the balls of her feet to reach.

“ Brilliant… ” Garreth mumbled when she’d pulled away to give him an indulgent smile. “Er - I mean, thanks. Definitely feeling lucky now.”

Raegan's snort of amusement made him quick to add, “Not like that! I meant to say… Oh, Merlin’s beard, you’re a menace!”

”I’ve been called worse.”

With one final, lilting “ Break a leg !” over her shoulder, Raegan walked off, shaking her head upon making the discovery that blushing might very well be contagious.

Maybe a relationship was out of the question given the current state of her affairs, but what was the harm in a little flirting between friends to test the waters?

And speaking of flirty friends…

Sebastian met her near the wide entrance to the pitch, the bravado-soaked grin he often donned present, though his eyes didn't possess their usual accompanying crinkle.

"My favorite Gryffindor.” He greeted her, arms crossing over his chest as he relaxed against the wooden post. “Don’t worry, I come in peace. Just wanted to wish you luck in tryouts - though I’m sure you’ll outfly them all.”

Flattery. One of his favorite tactics.

From the pocket of his breeches, Sebastian produced a single, vibrantly green clover which boasted not three, but four leaves.

“Just in case.”

“Where did you even find this?” Raegan moved automatically to pluck the stem from his fingers, studying it in the sunlight. “Transfigured, is it?”

"Found it myself. Suppose I'm quite talented at finding rare things."

His eyes darted to her hair; the copper strands knotted in a loose braid down her back, and tucked the clover securely behind her ear.

Why she didn't immediately rip out and incinerate the damn thing was a mystery, but she found it nearly impossible to do much besides hold her breath until he’d restored the space between them.

She was trying not to remember the smell of pine and candy and smoke.

"Is that all you came here for?" Raegan cleared her throat, glancing back as the whoosh of several brooms taking flight created a light breeze.

"Why are you always so suspicious of me?" Sebastian placed a hand over his heart as if mortally wounded.

"You're lucky I'm not blessing you with a kiss - though I see you've already got that handled."

Ah, so he did see that. Good.

"Be careful, is all I'm saying. People may start to think you two are..." He trailed off, the silence punctuated by an exaggerated raise of his brows.

Raegan couldn't let that one slide. "It's nobody's business who I'm courting; I've no real family to embarrass anyway, and I could give a damn what this lot thinks besides.

"Not that I'm courting anyone. Or planning to. So-"

Please, mouth, stop moving for once. She had to inhale greedily, having rushed it all out in one stuttered breath.

"Relax, don't have a fit." Sebastian shook his head. "I think it's sweet. I mean... you could do a lot worse than Garreth. Or a lot better, depending on your perspective."

What was that meant to be, reverse reverse psychology?

"I'm not involved with Garreth, for Merlin's sake." Her huffed sigh ruffled the stray hairs escaping from their plait.

An escape was exactly what she needed right now, if only to avoid the ridiculous dance they'd found themselves trapped in.

"Right. I know that."

Do you?

"Glad we've cleared that up, then. Now, unless you want to stand in as Cooper's personal Bludger, you'd better make yourself scarce." Raegan warned, brow arching high.

"Alright, I know when I'm not wanted. Best of luck again, Rae."

He strolled across the bridge, disappearing from sight before she had time to question the entire exchange.

Thankfully Raegan got through tryouts with all her bones intact, and with a spectacular performance (if she did say so herself) to boot - the likes of which had absolutely nothing to do with the four leaves wilting amongst her waves.

Just as she was heading back to the castle - disheveled and glistening with perspiration that demanded a bath - the voice of Lucan Brattleby carried over her shoulder.

"Raegan! Natsai! Garreth!" He jogged up to the trio, still panting from his tryout. "Great flying out there! To think we'll all be teammates soon, huh?

Anyway, I wanted to be the one to share: the first round of Crossed Wands is all set for Monday at 4. Assuming you ladies are still competing?"

"Of course, Lucan. Wouldn't miss it." Natty smiled at the fourth year.

"Yeah, count me in, too." Raegan chimed. "Might as well go for the Champion title two years in a row."

"That's the spirit! And it'll bring a huge crowd; everyone will be dying to watch one of the school's heroes compete." Lucan beamed.

The hero worship thing was sort of adorable - if not mildly disconcerting.

"And you'll be organizing the betting again, Garreth?"

"You bet your galleons I am." Garreth replied as the money he'd collected tinkled like bells in his pocket.

Those two should start a business, truly. They'd be richer than the Gaunts.

"Brilliant! Well, off to dinner. See you guys there!" Lucan gave them a jovial wave before joining his own friends.

"So, Raegan..." Garreth cleared his throat as they, too, exited the pitch with the summer-brown grass brushing their muddied boots.

"How are the potions helping?"

For the love of-

Natty shot a questioning look between her two friends, face screwing up in preparation for whatever distressing news she was about to receive.

"Potions? And helping...what?" She asked.

"Now you've done it," Raegan groaned after shooting Garreth a withering glare. "They're only to alleviate the headaches I've been getting lately. Perfectly safe; Gryffindor's honor.

"And they've been working just fine." She added spitefully.

Liar. She had to take at least three a day, and most of the time Raegan maintained the dull, throbbing ache that never went away.

"But why are you getting headaches?" Natsai probed as they walked, her eyes ignoring the path in favor of studying Raegan.

"Yes, why are you? You still haven't even told me, and I'm your bloody dealer." Garreth grunted.

"Beats me. Nurse Blainey said everything appears to be fine." She lied again.

Raegan hadn't dared to pay a visit to the matron since the last time she'd been forced to endure the hospital wing's melancholy. How many friends had she in those beds already? Natty, Sebastian, Diana... even Leander (Chomping Cabbage incident; don't ask).

Dreadful place.

"Well, there has to be something." Natty pressed gently.

"I'm fine, Natty, as I've assured you ceaselessly. Now please, can't we talk about this another time? I need to change my bet on Lucan after seeing that Seeking he pulled off."

———

A hot bath, several helpings of chicken, and more than one slice of apple tart later, Raegan was relieved to sink into the comforting embrace of her curtain-covered bed at last.

She tried to sleep for once. Really tried. There was even a good hour somewhere around two in the morning that she drifted off only to experience the usual rude awakening that doused her in sweat for the second time that day; sheets tangled around her legs like ropes.

Suddenly, the fire burning in the dorm's stove wasn't welcoming - it was suffocating.

There remained enough sense in her half-awake state to pull a robe over the nightgown that clung to her like a second skin. Raegan all but stumbled into the stairwell with little regard for her roommates' peaceful slumber (she owed them all magical earplugs for Christmas at this point).

The journey to the Undercroft was no peaceful stroll. Shadows peeked around corners and snuck up to whisper unintelligible secrets; forcing the nightmares back to the surface like a photo in a dark room.

Well. If she wouldn't be afforded the luxury of sleep, at least she could be somewhat productive.

Upon exiting the elevator, Raegan crossed the room in search of the loose (well, it hadn't been before she'd pried it free) brick at the far wall, sliding it from its slot as the sweat on her body chilled.

Reaching in, her hands felt blindly for-

Ah.

Isidora's journal entries were still rolled and tied together just as Raegan had left them last year. Diana wanted to destroy them upon discovering San's memory, but Raegan possessed the foresight to smuggle them away, just in case. They'd both thoroughly pored over the documents already, searching for any possibility of a code the former Professor may have used, or certain letters made darker, or...

Perhaps the girls read too many mystery novels together.

It proved to be a useless endeavor, anyway, as the entries were plain as day - and frustratingly brief to boot.

What scholars thought of insanity was beginning to seem suspiciously close to her reality.

As Raegan rubbed a hand over her foggy eyes, the words on the centuries-old pages gradually came into focus. She read until her eyes might as well have been bleeding and burned with the urge to blink, and every letter was combed through at least three times over until her impatience reached a boiling point.

“'I've left them a trail to follow’ ...well, what bloody good is that trail if it has a dead end?!" Raegan growled.

She took to pacing the length of the open space with the letters crumpled in a white-knuckled fist.

"Useless. Damned stupid , bloody Isi-"

The heat was the first sign that she was about to have what Ominis would call "an episode". Following its building warmth in her palm was the burst of flame, its sudden orange-yellow glow bringing tears to her eyes.

"Fuck! Oh, now I've done it."

Raegan dropped the parchments immediately, letting them flutter to the ground before she stomped out the fire with feet she now realized to be bare.

But it hadn't been necessary: they were the same wrinkled, faded beige they'd always been without a speck of black. Both brows knotting together, Raegan stooped to examine the unchanged pages - only to remark that there was a difference, after all. Words had appeared in veins of liquid gold, written in an even messier scrawl on the back of each page.

I've never been so happy to be a hothead in my life.

"Isidora, I take it back." She breathed.

The excitement was short-lived; becoming frustration once more when she looked closer to discover that it was a language she couldn't fully comprehend.

Scottish Gaelic, to be sure. An ancient-looking form at that, complete with several runes she had only come across once or twice and never taken the time to decipher.

The clang of the elevator jolted her to attention, and Raegan made haste to stuff the journals back into their hiding spot - but not quite fast enough.

She had barely finished shoving the stone back when Sebastian's voice rang out.

"Raegan? What are you doing here?"

He was better at finding her than the Ministry was at hunting down underage wizards using magic on vacation, and it was beginning to become uncanny. Possibly a bit unsettling.

"Er...I couldn't sleep. Just needed a change of scenery." Raegan cleared her throat as she turned slowly to face the music.

"So you thought an underground lair would be a good place for fresh air?" He chuckled, eyes wandering to the wall behind her. It appeared he had been in a similar state, considering the mussed hair and the sweater he'd thrown on over a pair of loose trousers.

"Hiding something, are we?"

He didn't miss a thing. Couldn't he be just a bit less observant?

" No ."

There was a moment of silence that rapidly escalated to a standoff. Neither of them broke eye contact for a long moment, waiting for the other to break-

Sebastian drew his wand, the brick sliding out of the wall before the pages flew into his hand with a simple "Accio".

"Give those back, you thief!" Raegan lunged for the Slytherin, reaching desperately, her chest pressed to his as she raised on her tiptoes precariously and swatted at Sebastian as though in the midst of a game of Quidditch.

He seemed endlessly amused; judging by the easy smirk tugging on his lips when he met her eyes. Still holding the precious documents high above his head - too high for her to reach.

"Mmm, don't think so." Sebastian chirped victoriously. "Let's see what you're keeping from me, shall we?"

He twisted away expertly, unfurling the papers with dramatic flair before she could dart around to grab them.

"Isidora's journals..." He thought aloud. "But why all the secrecy? I bloody found them with you-"

Before he could steal another moment to further investigate the shimmering ink, Raegan snatched them away at last with a hiss.

"Why can't you keep that big nose where it belongs?" She chided.

"What is that?" He went on, undeterred by her annoyance - likely, he was just used to working around it by now. "That writing...it wasn't there before, was it?"

"Very perceptive."

"I try." His eyes drifted over her, then - seemingly noting for the first time that her attire was less than proper; only the semi-sheer ivory nightdress to cover her freckled skin, which still glistened faintly with sweat in the torchlight.

Sebastian's POV

She looks like an angel.

Raegan in general was anything but the picture of heavenly virtue. On the contrary, her color palette was reminiscent of the hellfires they spoke of in Dante's Inferno: all flaming hair and clothes in varying shades of autumn leaves and obsidian.

Even her eyes... startlingly golden, save for the time he'd seen them glow a blinding red.

Yet now he couldn't help but wonder if heaven's gates might be guarded by this avenging angel standing before him; a vision of righteous vengeance in purest white.

It drove his thoughts somewhere downright sinful.

The way the length of her throat glowed with flush and a sheen of sweat sent him spiraling - the same throat he'd imagined running his tongue along in his wildest dreams.

He should have been commended for resisting the urge to let his eyes stray below the neckline of her dress, even with the generous curves outlined beneath that cursed garment still visible in his peripheral.

Abort mission. Abort, abort, abort...

"Would you like to paint a portrait? It'll last longer."

Oh, fuck.

"I-I wasn't staring. Sorry, just...mind was elsewhere." Sebastian fumbled, blinking several times to refocus on her face. Only her face.

Somehow, that turned out to be the greater of two evils.

"Yes; in the gutter, it seems." Raegan mused.

Why did she have to call him out like that? Why did she have to be so incredibly candid and exacting? Or was Sebastian simply more transparent than he'd initially thought?

Gods, now I'm sweating.

"You... you're trying to change the subject." Sebastian re-fortified his questionable resolve, squaring his shoulders and dismissing the pang in his gut as mere discomfort.

"So, have you read them? What do they say? Anything about-"

"I was about to before you came barging in."

"Can you even read Scots?"

He didn't doubt her intelligence when he knew perfectly well the girl was at least partially fluent in three languages - but there was a set to her jaw that told him she was frustrated about something.

"I can read...a bit of it." She amended. "A few words are similar to Irish, but some are entirely different."

Raegan straightened, avoiding his gaze to roll the papers back up pointedly.

"Doesn't matter. I can translate it in an hour at the library."

"You sure about that?" Sebastian saw his chance, and he was damn well going to take it. All week he'd sought out rather pitiful excuses to spend even a moment with her despite all evidence that she wanted next to nothing to do with him.

It was time to take matters more firmly into his hands.

"From the looks of it - before you tore it from my hands like a wild animal - that isn't the modern dialect. Might even be Early Scots..."

That ever-present air of distrust grated at his nerves while she cocked her head thoughtfully.

How could he resist an opportunity to unravel the mystery they'd never gotten to crack last year? Sebastian lived and breathed a good mystery, especially when it was someone else's so he could have a break from the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He supposed that was Raegan's burden now. The least he could do was help her ease it. Plus, a bit of research would be a better occupation for his thoughts, rather than everything else recently rotting away in the corners of his consciousness.

And if it meant a chance to make up for a few regrets in the process...

"Let me help. I can have them all translated by Monday." He asserted.

She's hesitating. Maybe-

"No, I don’t think so.”

Of course not.

Sebastian leaned to the side, crossing his arms and putting on his best "don't be ridiculous" expression that typically got the point across.

"Ignore your bloody pride for a moment. You obviously are dying to know what's on those pages, and I suspect you have enough on your plate without adding an extra task to the list."

"It's not pride , I just don't need your help when I can do it myself."

"I'm well aware you could do it, Raegan." His voice softened, fearing that any more of his usual flippancy would drive her heels further into the ground. "Just because you can doesn't mean you should have to.

"You needn't do everything on your own, you know."

That seemed to hit something - something deep, from the way her mouth turned down into a frown, and how he resented that sight; like the sun hiding behind clouds and turning down the world's vibrancy.

The last thing he expected to hear was, "I don't want anyone else to know."

Was that... did she-?

"Nobody?" He raised a brow skeptically. "Not even Diana?"

"Especially not Diana." Raegan sighed. "You know how she feels about Isidora, she doesn't even know I still have these."

Sebastian thought that keeping something from her best friend likely wasn't the best course of action, but he could hardly lecture her when he'd done the very same thing in the year past.

He was ready to say, " Why ?" Why , when she had barely deigned to look at him since stepping through the doors of the Great Hall or even lowered herself to have a conversation lasting longer than five minutes, was she suddenly willing to accept his help?

Not that he was complaining, of course.

"Alright. I can understand the need for discretion. I won't breathe a word of this." Sebastian nodded solemnly.

The pause that followed... Sebastian often wondered if she inserted them after he spoke purely for dramatic effect. Or, more likely, Raegan relished in making him suffer.

"And don't even think about copying them."

"I wasn't going to!" Sebastian protested, yet he had to smile a bit - three months was nothing compared to a lifetime, sure, but at eighteen it seemed to be a year. Despite their distance, she still knew him like he knew one of his favorite books by heart.

Anyway, there was no need to copy them. Reading the journals a couple of times over would be just as effective in preserving the information for himself.

“However, if we are going to be partners-“

”- More like distant associates, but…”

”I have one condition. Since I’m so generously offering my time.”

”- Which you volunteered to provide.”

Sebastian tried out that eye roll she was so fond of, and to his displeasure, it didn’t seem to have the same effect.

“One condition: that you study with me next week.”

A simple enough request. Raegan didn’t seem to agree with the way her lips curled back in obvious distaste, but after a moment she pursed them again.

“One hour.”

"Deal.” It was more than Sebastian had dared to hope for, honestly. “Now, go on, hand them over. You look exhausted, you should get some sleep."

Raegan scrunched her nose, irritated by his blunt observation. "My eye bags aren't nearly as bad as yours."

But she obliged, whipping the roll of parchment into his awaiting hand.

"Maybe not." Sebastian accepted the offering and delivered a light thwack with them to her pert nose. “You do pull it off, though."

Before she had time to answer with an angry huff or a scathing remark, Sebastian waved the pages in the air in a nonchalant farewell, catching her eye over his shoulder as if he couldn't help but steal every last look he was able.

"By the way! I’ve found Calming Draughts help with the night terrors. You should have Garreth make you some, in addition to whatever else he's been brewing up for you."

How lucky Sebastian was to see the mix of emotions playing across her face before the doors clanged shut and the darkness swallowed him up once again. Even her (admittedly adorable) scowl was insufficient in wiping the grin off his face that lit up the night; a ray of sunlight in a shadowy wood.

Bonus pic of the losers aka the part where Seb gets all up in her space with that dang clover:

[siriuslysatorusimping]

Author Discussion: Show Your Hand

I had already been planning on having an Author Discussion for this part, and after seeing people's reaction to the preview, I went ahead and decided it'd be best to finish it before posting Part 2 of Show Your Hand lol. So, I'm putting the discussion below the cut to avoid spoilers for those who haven't read it yet! And thank you all for the love and care you've shown for Rinko. She'll be okay, I promise 💖

Read Another Level on AO3 :)

And read the installment this discussion is about: Show Your Hand

OKAY. So. I know everyone is gonna have a lot of thoughts after reading Show Your Hand, so I’m going ahead and writing this. I’ll try to keep this as succinct as possible. To do that, I’m going to break it into the following sections:

Rinko’s relationship with Yuzuki

Rinko’s relationship with Gojo

Rinko’s relationship with Yuzuki:

First of all, I didn’t intend for Show Your Hand to be a full installment, or even a full chapter to begin with. Originally, I had it as part of No Goodwill Here as a fragment in a second part for that installment.

But as I wrote and started following that little inspiration fairy, I found myself drawn back to the relationship between Rinko and her mother. And how that void that crops up every now and then opened for the very first time the day her mother died.

For the past six years, Rinko has been trying to understand where this void came from, and Show Your Hand is the first time she’s actively admitted to herself that she knows where it started. She’s always known.

In I Say ‘Sayonara’ Rinko felt like her mother’s last breath took part of her soul, and in a way she was right. Because it opened up that void in her chest that left her feeling hollow. This is why, in Hollow Echoes, she thinks the following:

The cold look in his eyes as he stared at her made her feel emptier than she would ever admit to him, or anyone else. Hell, part of her believed she’d just imagined the feeling because she and Shoko had been discussing her mother earlier that evening.

She wasn’t wrong. That feeling was partially there because they had discussed her mother. It made her feel more vulnerable and it made her doubt her gut. And, if you remember, the entire reason she even went into Gojo’s condo was because she doubted her gut and listened to Nanami instead.

This part was very important for Rinko’s character because she’s realizing more and more just how much like her mother she truly is, and how much her mother struggled. And she’s beginning to understand her mother so much more as well.

Her words to Mai, and how she interacts with the two girls, are like little mirrors of how her mother treated her. How Yuzuki would squeeze her forearm and how she would make her tea. Think back to Innate Issues when Rinko made Maki tea and squeezed her forearm when she set it down without even realizing what she was doing.

I don’t know the exact science of it, but it’s known that there are mannerisms and habits are essentially genetic. People who never met a certain relative will find out that they have the exact same habit or they literally spread their butter on a biscuit exactly the same. Weird things like that.

Rinko has Zenin traits like the scowl and the sneer that are just innate for the Zenin bloodline. It’s canon to me. No one will convince me otherwise. But she also has her mother’s kind smile and eyes. Her heart that chooses to look for the good in things just to keep from breaking in half.

Yuzuki knew the kind of person Naobito was from the moment he looked her in the eye and told her every moment with her had been a mistake. She knew that he was a man driven by a need for power, but primarily because it was all he knew. The Zenins are raised from birth to believe that the only important thing in life is strength, or at least, the perception of strength. You can’t just be strong, you have to seem strong.

Yuzuki knew that he wasn’t the man she fell in love with, especially after how he treated Rinko. And that was why she never faulted or scolded Rinko for being angry. 

She scolded Rinko when she allowed that anger to influence how she spoke to and treated others.

But she never told her not to be angry or that she had no right to be. And that is vital in how Rinko became the person she is. Because the only thing Yuzuki says against the anger, as a feeling, is: “...being angry does nothing but hurt me.”

She simply pointed out that holding onto the anger only hurt her in the end, not the one she was angry with. And Rinko said something very similar to Yaga about Yoshinobu. It’s because of Yuzuki and how she handled that anger, how she allowed Rinko to feel it and process it, that Rinko understands that many times, she just needs time to figure her thoughts and feelings out.

But the problem is that she doesn’t do that. She only gives herself enough time to know that she won’t explode and react solely out of anger, but she doesn’t process things. Not really. Because she doesn’t quite know how to do that alone. Not without her mother there helping her.

Rinko has not learned how to process grief without her mother there to help her through it.

She doesn’t understand how her mother was so strong to get through everything without breaking. Because she doesn’t realize that her mother didn’t get through things without breaking. Yuzuki broke the day Naobito broke her heart, and she forced herself to continue forward because she had a daughter to take care of.

Remember, Yuzuki died because she worked herself too hard when Rinko was young, and her body just started giving up. And she didn’t want that for her daughter. That’s why, one of the very last things she said to Rinko was “Just be happy, sweetheart.” Rinko doesn’t understand this yet. She still thinks her mother was some sort of superhuman who dealt with the anger and emotions with a smile and kept going. And that is incredibly vital for how she reacts to things.

Because Rinko doesn’t process things. She avoids them. Notice how in part 2, she begins thinking to herself that she doesn’t want to have the conversation, she just wants to sleep and then she thinks that maybe she can sleep for a few days because it’s not like she has anywhere to be. That is a dangerous path for Rinko to go down. And that’s why it’s important that she was stopped before she could follow it completely.

I’m going to tell you guys a little secret: Yuzuki died to make room for Gojo in Rinko’s life. Well, someone else in her life at least.

When Gojo showed up at her funeral, he unintentionally but willingly stepped into the space that was left behind. Yuzuki essentially gave him a look and said “here ya go, take care of my daughter” when he looked at her picture. And that’s why, when Rinko and Gojo aren’t doing well, that void is more evident to Rinko. But she doesn’t understand this yet. She only knows that void opened the day her mother died.

Right now, she’s still trying to close it by relying on her mother. In part 2, she even has the thought that maybe she’s dreaming and she’ll wake up and her mother is still there. Because for so long, her mother was all she had.

And that leads us into the next piece of this breakdown:

Rinko's relationship with Gojo

These two are messy. I’ve said this before, but neither of them is perfect. And Rinko is just as emotionally not okay as Gojo. But, they try to deal with things like adults, for the most part.

Many of you are likely upset that Gojo didn’t apologize, and that’s fair. But it’s a specific choice I’ve made for this because it fits his character. 

Gojo Satoru doesn’t apologize for his actions. He will admit he’s wrong, but he’ll then justify why he did what he did. The last time he apologized to someone for his own actions was when he told Amanai Riko that he was sorry he wasn’t more upset about her death.

Notice that he stops himself multiple times when they’re fighting because he realizes he’s wrong, and he admits to it. That in itself is already growth for him. Because he doesn’t admit that to other people. But we see him making a clear effort to be honest with her to make up for having lied to begin with, even if he doesn’t actually say the words ‘I’m sorry.’

Because, while him lying was the catalyst for Rinko breaking down, he was not the cause.

Rinko was overwhelmed by everything going on around her and how ashamed and angry she was that she was fired in front of her students. And that she was fired after Gojo was gone because Gakuganji is a coward. Gojo had to leave to talk to the higher-ups because Gakuganji had already informed them of what had happened to get rid of him. And Rinko knows this.

She’s upset with Gojo for lying, and she’s hurt that he chose to go to someone else to blow off steam when he could have with her. But she understands why he did it, because she knows she likely would have done the same damn thing. Rinko is not ready to commit to someone like that, even if she technically already has without realizing it.

So, let’s address this fight.

Yuuta was an unintentional catalyst to this because he’s just a sweet lil bean who misunderstood the situation. And neither Gojo nor Rinko blame him for that. Note that all Gojo said was that Yuuta is just so damn genuine and it made him worry that Rinko would take it seriously.

Gojo knows that he isn’t ready to commit. In fact, he still believes he’ll never be ready or able to commit to someone. And that is why he spooked. Because he doesn’t want Rinko to expect something of him that he is well aware he could never(he thinks) give to her. He didn’t realize that she was on the same page as him with that until they talked.

This part went through many iterations, one of them involving Rinko letting Yaga know that Gojo lied, but that doesn’t fit their relationship. Because neither of them likes involving other people because they both agree that it’s no one else’s damn business what they do with their lives.

Rinko doesn’t call Nanami because she doesn’t want him meddling and she knows that everyone else will likely do the same damn thing. Because they’ll ask why she isn’t talking to Gojo or what Gojo thinks about things, and she’s not going to involve them in that conflict.

Gojo does the same. Notice how, even when he was blowing her phone up, he didn’t involve anyone else. He didn’t call someone else to check on Rinko because he knows it’s none of their damn business if they’re not getting along. And that’s why when he thought she’d involved Yaga, he was angry. The anger left almost immediately once he realized she hadn’t.

Her wording was intentional on my part for two reasons: 1) when someone is upset, they aren’t thinking that hard about their word choice. 2) that misunderstanding fueled his fear for a moment that she was asking about him and expecting more from him by doing so.

Gojo wasn’t upset that she knew he lied. And while he struggled and was frustrated at being caught, he was willing to admit that he shouldn’t have once he realized she didn’t expect more from him.

Rinko’s breakdown was a result of many things, and he understood that he was just the trigger that allowed it to happen. And that’s why, while he didn’t apologize, he immediately admitted he was wrong once he knew she had calmed down.

These two are not dating. They’re not in a relationship, and that’s why it works. Because at the end of the day, it didn’t matter that he slept with someone else because they agree completely that they are not exclusive. They don’t care if either sleeps with someone else. They tease and they joke and she likes to rile him up by joking that someone made her cum harder than he did, but at the end of the day, the sex is just sex.

Does it look like a relationship? Absolutely. But the label is something they can’t handle and if they had that label, this would have likely ended things for them. Not having that pressure is why this still works.

I will give a small piece of information now: this is the last time Gojo sleeps with someone other than Rinko.

Rinko has already, without acknowledging it to herself, stopped sleeping with other people primarily because they’ve been seeing each other so much.

The resolution to this part was difficult for me to get to, but once I did, it felt right for the two of them to slip back into joking and teasing and for them to just be okay with each other because they trust the other to understand.

Of course Gojo would offer to make her cum to make up for it, and, honestly, Rinko is okay with that. Because again, they aren’t in a relationship. So him sleeping with someone else was never the issue, it was the lie. Now that they’ve worked through that, they can return to other problems, but for now, she just wants to turn her brain off and Gojo can absolutely help with that.

I know that this might not be the resolution some people wanted, but I felt it fit the best with who they are as characters and where they are emotionally.

I’ve had their end game mapped for a long time, and I’m confident in sticking to it because I genuinely feel it works the best. There will be ups and downs for these two, but at the end of the day, they’re both just messy lil humans who care about each other and have really good sex.

And they’re both okay with that because it’s what they both want.

[maiaspen]

Hello to my beloved ‘Oblivion Gin’ readers!

I am working hard on Chapter 7 💪! It’s going to be a VERY LONG DOOZY. Realistically, I don’t think I’ll have it ready for ao3 posting until March. It’s like 50+ pages and I have so much editing ahead. Darn real life for stealing into my writing time.😜

However! As a **THANK YOU** to YOU, my reader, I am sharing a little preview of Chapter 7 here. Please know that this is not a gussied-up edited beauty… yet. My writing process is to word-vomit everything that comes into my head, and then give it a makeover (or a million makeovers) from there. So. This is still very raw, and what ultimately “makes the cut” to ao3 could read differently.

Anyway, I hope you’ll enjoy this little peak into where I am taking our Jedi trio. May the Force be with Anakin, Obi-Wan and Kit, cuz — where I’m taking them— they are gonna need it. 😈🥦

🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆

Chapter 7 (preview)



When it comes to testing his reflexes, Force sprinting through a jungle is not unlike flying through an asteroid field. Anakin is currently propelling himself forward at full tilt — racing through a lush, leafy labyrinth.

Anakin’s senses are in overdrive, saving him from smashing into tree trunks, tripping over jutting roots and trampling the local reptilian population. Judging by the jungle’s chorus of snake hissing and bird screeching, the native fauna clearly did not expect a Jedi Knight to be foot-blasting through their domain today.

Anakin has only been sprinting on Areh 7 for about three minutes and . . .

He already hates this planet.

Midday here is even more sweltering than midday on Tatooine. As the Mos Espa locals used to say: ‘the air is hotter than a Hutt’s belch’. But, while Tatooine raged with a dry heat, this jungle is humid as fuck. Anakin feels like he’s moving through an oppressive, super-heated fog. Even the trees sag under the weight of moisture.

Anakin is glad that he, Obi-Wan and Fisto left their tunics on the shit shuttle and ventured out in their undershirts. Granted, their tunics were still saturated in blood, sweat and oil from their crab droid battle on Oleh Minor. So, between that and the surface temperature readings, the three Jedi unanimously agreed that they’d pull on their boots, strap on their belts; but leave the heavy, soiled tunics behind.

What Anakin is not glad about – actually he’s downright fuming with an internal heat to put Areh 7’s to shame – is that he, Obi-Wan and Fisto had to split up. Okay, he doesn’t give a whomp rat’s ass about Fisto; but at least Obi-Wan isn’t with Fisto either. Each of them is on a solo operation, dividing and conquering, in order to track down and rescue the five wounded, lost senators.

The senator’s small ship crashed and cracked against the terrain like Bonegnawers’ egg. The Jedi scanned and searched the remains for lifesigns, but the ship was abandoned.

No doubt gravely injured from the crash, the senators had either left it on their own accord to search for help, or they’d been removed by something. Unfortunately, the latter is most likely because their five lifesigns are scattered far across the dense terrain. Too dense for the Jedi to fly through. Hence, Anakin’s current state of Force sprinting.

As the planet harbors zero sentient life, the senators were likely removed by animals. Why these animals have not killed them is a mystery, and the Jedi need to find the senators before their luck runs out.

The Jedi’s portable scanners only provide a vague idea of where to search, so they are relying on the Force to guide them to their targets.

Anakin is rushing west through the thickest patch of jungle. As he’s the fastest sprinter, he’s currently covering over seven kilometers, where two lifesigns appear to be positioned side-by-side.

Fisto is heading north, where two other senators are also within close range of each other. In order to reach them the Nautolan will have to journey about six kilometers through thick flora, plus swim another two across a river brimming with serpentine-life.

As much as Anakin hates to admit it, this swim would be too time-consuming and dangerous for him or Obi-Wan to attempt, especially since they would be towing two injured senators with them on the return trip. Fisto did not seem daunted by his task in the least. If anything, he was extremely eager to get on with the mission– as though the promised hazards were preferable to spending another moment in the company of his comrades. This made Anakin quite happy; though he did his best to squelch his giddiness considering lives were on the line.

Obi-Wan is heading south to go spelunking. His Master is venturing about two kilometers above ground and then another two-ish underneath it. The senator with the frailest lifesign appears to be inside a fauna-filled cave. As Oi-Wan is the most skilled at healing, this senator needs his aid immediately.

Anakin would rather have his left arm lopped off than be away from Obi-Wan. Why did he agree to this plan? They shouldn't have separated. Nothing good ever happens when they are apart. Obi-Wan almost always ends up in the Halls of Healing. He constantly berates Anakin for taking ‘unnecessary risks’ when he’s the galactic champion of taking unnecessary risks! Kriff-it-all! Anakin can’t look out for him, protect him, stop him from doing something stupidly self-sacrificing! And what if something really bad happens? What if whatever animal nabbed the senators is actually dangerous and it ambushes Obi-Wan? What if the animal gets lucky and injures Obi-Wan– or worse—

Fuck the senators.

Anakin is going to turn around right now! He’ll race to Obi-Wan and aid him on his rescue mission. Keep him safe. Then they can come back this way and rescue Anakin’s senators. Together. Kenobi and Skywalker. As they are meant to always be, and will be. Forever and ever and ever and–

The Force convulses with the senator’s desperation. Their hearts are beating so feebly, like the wings of exhausted drowning birds. Anakin is close to them now, and their auras are fading faster than even he can run. Something is . . . draining them. Killing them slowly.

If he doesn't press on the senators will die.

Anakin reaches through the Force for Obi-Wan . . . he’s underground. Anakin can sense the cool, damp darkness surrounding his Master – it’s more oppressive than the humidity above ground. Every footfall leads his Master deeper into the dark, and closer to his own terribly wounded senator. But, Obi-Wan’s lightsaber is engaged, illuminating his path, beating back the shadows. He’s focused. He’s calm. He’s determined to succeed and save his senator’s life. Obi-Wan’s signature is robust, more vibrant than his lightsaber, and he’s– he’s alright.

Obi-Wan is alright.

And these senators are very, very far from alright.

Kriff. Kriff. Kriffing-kriff.

There is no emotion, there is peace.

No one is taking me away from Obi-Wan.

No one is taking Obi-Wan away from me.

I am a Jedi Knight.

He can’t let innocent sentient beings die.

Anakin grits his teeth so hard he’s shocked that they don’t crack. He zeros-in on his two deteriorating targets and presses on. But — if he senses even the ripple of distress from Obi-Wan— then he’s out of here. The senator’s fates will be in the Force’s hands, while he ensures that Obi-Wan is safely within his own.

Anakin doubles his already doubled efforts to hurry — careening through this realm of thriving sounds and colors. The living Force is everywhere always, but it feels downright overpowering here, like Anakin is trying to run through a vibrant-green windstorm. There are billions of flora and fauna, their auras combining to make the jungle into a single god-like entity — one that seems to breathe and sweat along with Anakin. A melee of plant life — thousands of intertwined leaves, vines and roots– all jut out at him, seemingly aiming to slow his advancement, to trip and ensnare him; to stop him from reaching his targets. But Anakin ignites his lightsaber and slices and sizzles them to the jungle floor.

He will not be slowed down.

The sooner he rescues these senators the sooner he can be reunited with Obi-Wan. And he plans on enjoying the fuck out of their reunion. Anakin is desperate to pick up where they left off in the ‘fresher. The sweet, hot memory of Obi-Wan’s roaming hands, his talented mouth, are seared into Anakin’s flesh like invisible scars. Those strong arms around him . . . that broad, muscular chest against his. The sweaty, soft hair over Obi-Wan’s pecs. The rub of his nipples. The shamless way Obi-Wan moved against Anakin like he wanted to fuck. Even with insects buzzing and birds screeching, Anakin can still hear his Master’s beautiful moans. He wonders how Obi-Wan moves while he’s being fucked. How that gorgeous body would feel naked and beside Anakin’s own . . . on top of him, underneath him . . .

As Anakin decimates the jungle, he knows that he should be focusing only on the lost, injured senators. Strategizing on how he’s going to assess their injuries, and treat them with only the meager medkit strapped to his belt. He needs to find out what happened to them; why they crashed. But those appropriate thoughts keep getting overrun by how incredible Obi-Wan’s cock felt, hardening in Anakin’s hand, grinding against his own.

Force, his Master has feelings for him! But. . . apparently, he still has feelings for Fisto, too. And that will not do. That is unacceptable. Anakin will need to take care of that immediately, once this mission is over and—

Anakin skids to a stop, wincing, covering his ears.

Creatures wail and chatter so loudly that Anakin thinks the trees are going to fall down around him. He looks up— sunlight trickles through the dense canopy of leaves. The color reminds him of Obi-Wan’s hair, but that’s the only pro. All of the alarmed wildlife is fleeing. He sees a rainbow of feathers hightailing it, and even insects the size of his head rushing away into the thicket. Anakin can’t see anything but green and gloom, yet he senses that the senators are right here. . . nearly within armsreach. He can’t hear their heartbeats or breathing, but he feels them.

He takes a cautious step forward and . . .

The jungle falls silent as a tomb.

All Anakin can hear his own thudding heartbeat and ragged breathing.

Dread blooms inside him, scratching his innards much like one of the jungle’s thorny plants is catching on his leggings. The Force warns Anakin to look right. He does and— shit! He ducks a vine swinging for his head! A vine with leaves as large and sharp-looking as a vibroaxe!

Within a blink the dangerous vine is gone. Retracted into the brush like a recalled cable launcher.

“The fuck?” Anakin mutters, his lightsaber at the ready to defend against— against what? There’s nothing around him except plants. Did a plant attack him? Other than the senators, he can’t sense anything with a heart or brain. While Anakin’s saber grip is steady, his heartbeat is anything but.

After several long, suspenseful moments of nothing, the Force urges Anakin to look down at the jungle floor. The senators are . . . below him?

The Knight retracts and reholsters his lightsaber, then falls to his knees to rummage through the moldy, prickly jungle floor. It’s sticky. With a gentle Force push, Anakin clears away a large pile of leaf debris, revealing—

He jumps backward!

Anakin was standing on the senators. Well, not exactly on them. The unconscious senators are lying side-by-side and face-up, contained within an organic, mucus-embossed pod. The pod is translucent, hued a green not unlike Fisto’s skin tone. The senators seem to be totally saturated in the mucus like it’s bacta – it’s inside their nostrils and mouth— yet, they are not suffocating on it.

One senator is a globe-headed Bith. The other is a species with a cluster of eyes in the middle of her forehead. This senator is one of Padmé’s acquaintances, though Anakin can’t recall her name or that of her species.

Anakin prods at the surface of the pod. It feels warm and squishy under his flesh fingers, like heated rubber; but slick from that mucousy membrane. It smells earthy, faintly moldy, but not nearly as unpleasant as it looks.

He ignites his saber– preparing to cautiously burn the pod open– when he sees the faintest wriggle of movement from inside. A movement that was not made by either senator.

Using the Force to enhance his vision, Anakin sees dozens – no, hundreds – of worm-like creatures adhered to the senator's flesh. The creatures are as small and fine as the hair on Anakin’s own arms, and they have somehow latched themselves onto the senators and are drinking their blood. Only, they aren’t actually worms at all– they aren’t even alive like worms are alive– they are plants.

These minuscule worm-plant things could not have dragged the senators seven kilometers through that rugged terrain, so— oh.

These are some kind of youngling plants and, Anakin suspects that –the massive vibroaxe vine that nearly took off his head– is the parent plant.

Hoping the parent plant isn't watching (but also knowing that’s a delusional hope), Anakin lowers his lightsaber again and prepares to carve the senators out of the pod. He’ll have to use the Force to blast all of those little leech-plants from their skin. With both senators being unconscious, Anakin will have to carry them to the shuttle. One under each arm or over each shoulder?

Force, give me strength.

The Force gives him another warning instead.

😈🥦😈🥦😈🥦😈🥦😈🥦😈🥦😈🥦😈

Thanks for reading!

If you’re new to ‘Oblivion Gin’, you can catch up on the story on ao3, HERE.

There are only 2 chapters to go! Ahhhhhh!!!

Xo Maia, but feel free to call me Mrs. Fisto 😜

[stobinesque]

I L U

(for the fic ask game ;p)

🫶🫶🫶i grinned like a little fool when i saw this, thanks gerry 🥰

also asfjdklansk i am answering these out of order because have to put the answer to one of them under a cut

L: How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

somehow no matter what the number is the answer is always not enough!! If I am posting something to AO3 I will usually revise it at least three times and then proofread it at each point it switches to a new text editor. So a chapter of a fic will generally get: a rough draft, a first pass through to fill in placeholders and make major edits, a second pass through to revise whatever things got added in the first pass through, and 3 to 5ish more passthroughs to make sure everything feels relatively coherent to me. When I export from Scrivener to Word/GDocs (usually Word) I do a quick proofread. When I paste from Word/GDocs to the AO3 text editor I do a formatting copyedit (usually I don't do a full proofread, I just check for obvious places the formatting may have gotten fucked). And then I preview the chapter before posting it just to be sure.

...and then I inevitably find a grammatical error the next time I reread the fic. I have been thinking about figuring out beta readers for my next few big projects because revising all of phryctoria on my own was exhausting D:

prompt fills and ficlets on tumblr get a less intense version of that process, but still probably roughly one major revision and one major proofread.

U: Share three of your favourite fic writers and why you like them so much.

Okay, I'm intentionally picking people who are not my mutuals because that feels like trying to pick between favorite children and also stresses me out, so:

@pukner has written several of my favorite Steddie fics in the fandom from well before I was on ST tumblr. I read a lot of Steddie fic before having seen all of seasons 3 and 4 (long story), and I think in that period of time that I was first devouring steddie fics pukner's fics were the ones that captured the potential that I'd seen in both Steve & Eddie as well as Steve and Robin's dynamics from what I had seen of both seasons. Also got me hooked on genderqueer!Steve who gets to attend Girls' Night.

I'm a sucker for a good character study and a good queer culture exploration and scoops-ahoy on AO3 has done both of those things excellently multiple times and I will eat it up always. everyone should read the shame is on the other side.

I've also enjoyed everything I've read by oaseas and I think the throughline is that they just write the whole ensemble really well? Like the love jumps out, you know? Excellent found family vibes. also paradise by the dashboard light. is just. a work of genius.

I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

okay this is the one i have to put below a cut bc it got kinda nsft.

hmmm, I don't think so? Mostly because I don't...really believe in guilty pleasures? I guess there are a few things that I enjoy reading that are popular to rag on in fandom spaces. e.g.: I am not personally interested in water sports, but have enjoyed almost every single water sports fic I have come across [sidebar: ACTUALLY--given how prevalent "wet & messy" is as a trope in the steddie fandom I'm frankly a little surprised there aren't more pissplay fics out here??]. I also really enjoy a good deal of omegaverse fics (I'm just pickier about them than I am with other fic genres).

[celery8705]

The Wolf Howls for the Wind: Chapter 1

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23276377/chapters/55742713

The last thing Cloud remembered was walking to his prized motorcycle, Fenrir. He was finally heading home after grudgingly meeting with President Rufus and the Turks in Junon. During that time, Shinra was going through a monster problem in the town, and they needed his swordsmanship to help them. He refused at first, but after seeing Priscilla and the townsfolk who helped him on his first journey, there was no way he could say no. He wasn't going to leave them defenseless against those beasts. He made it clear to Rufus that he only helped on behalf of the townspeople, not for the Shinra Corporation.

The drive home to Edge was going to be a long one, and Cloud would have to pass by Kalm to pick up additional supplies. He was able to stock up his travel bag with canned and non-perishable foods to hold him over until he got home. Just as he reached his bike, a bright, white light engulfed him. He flinched by the sudden brightness, quickly shutting his eyes and shielded them with a gloved hand. Several seconds passed, spots flashing behind his eyelids until the intense light dimmed and eventually dissipated.

Slowly opening his eyes, Cloud found himself in a desert valley, the sights of people, buildings, and his trusted motorcycle disappeared before him. Mako eyes searched the area through blonde bangs for anything that looked remotely familiar. He did find one recognizable place, but it was the last place he expected to see. Was this an illusion? Did his mind play tricks on him?

Behind him stood a tall, slim ivory tower that widened towards the top. Two large mechanical rings surrounded the middle section of the tower in a crisscrossed manner, and specks of light glittered from the top.

"Why am I back here?" Cloud asked aloud to no one in particular, confused. He remembered being summoned to this place a few years back, and a tsunami of memories flooded back to him. He recalled all the battles he had gone through, skirmishes he felt there was no point engaging in. There seemed to be no end in sight until he and his companions were able to break the cycle and returned home.

Cloud wondered if he would reunite with the companions he met during his time here, like the righteous weapons master, or the flirtatious thief with a tail. The sound of footsteps resounded from a distance, gradually growing louder. Turning his attention to the source, he saw a young man and woman walking in his direction.

The athletic man had disheveled blonde hair with spikey layers, wearing an open yellow shirt with a white hood hanging in the back. He wore black pants, his left pant leg shorter than the other, which revealed the tight red shorts beneath. A black overall-type top went over his clothing, secured with a belt in the middle. He had a wide grin as he spoke with his female companion.

The petite woman had her blonde curls in a high ponytail and wore a red floral dress with matching elbow fingerless gloves and red boots. A sash of purple, pink, and white wrapped around her waist, a dagger attached to her right hip, and white-flowered tights covered her legs. Her cape, which matched with her sash, swayed from side to side as she walked next to the young man, laughing at what he mentioned.

The man shifted his attention to Cloud, and his grin grew. "Hey, is that Cloud?" the man questioned excitedly and jogged towards him, the woman following close behind.

Cloud studied the pair after his initial surprise dissolved, the haze that fogged his memories becoming clear. He knitted his eyebrows together in thought as he searched in his mind information about these two individuals. "Tidus…Terra…" Cloud said slowly, their names returning to him.          

"It is! Cloud, it is so good to see you!" said Terra with a pleased expression and pressed her hands together in front of her.

Yes, now he remembered them. He fought alongside these two the first time around. At that moment, he recalled all he learned about them. "It's good to see the both of you, too," Cloud replied with a nod. "It's been a long time."

Terra chuckled. "It has been, hasn't it? It looks like you are doing well."

"I know! You look different, and look at all those blades you're sporting there, bud!" said Tidus, excited as he pointed to the different shaped blades sheathed in the harness Cloud wore. His expression was similar to a child receiving a gift or going to an amusement park. "Looks like Firion will have some competition now for the most weapons carried."

Typical Tidus. Even though he just arrived in this world with a foggy memory, Cloud now recalled the different personalities he encountered here. Tidus was one of the warriors with a cheerful and somewhat childish personality. Hence it didn't come as a surprise to him how excited he'd get over little things. "I see you're still the same, Tidus," Cloud said, shaking his head and smirked. He turned his gaze from his companions to the ivory tower that stood before their paths. "So, I take it you're heading there?"

"We sure are. Mind if we tag along?"

Cloud shrugged, "Do I have a choice?"

Tidus laughed and wrapped an arm around Cloud's shoulders, unconsciously causing the swordsman to tense up. The younger man failed to pick up Cloud's unease with physical contact. It was nothing against Tidus, but Cloud wasn't the touchy type and often kept the physical touches to a minimum. "You've changed Cloud, and not just in appearances. You never cease to surprise me." Cloud shrugged Tidus off, feeling anxious from the contact. When it came to something like this, Cloud could probably count on one hand just how many people he was that comfortable with. Good thing the other two didn't seem to notice.

Terra giggled, a hand covering her mouth. "I'm sure we will have plenty of time to catch up. I want to hear what you've both been up to. But first, let's head to the tower and see what's going on." Cloud and Tidus nodded. The three warriors moved forward and made their way to the lone structure ahead.

---

Cloud, Tidus, and Terra reached the base of the stairs that led to the meeting room. There were others Cloud recognized from the last time and some who were new. It felt surreal to him, to find himself back here with the warriors he fought alongside with before. Well, most of them anyway. He noticed one person was missing from the original group, a wind warrior who wandered and went wherever the wind took him. Cloud briefly wondered if the other would make an appearance to this meeting.

They all walked up the steps and entered the meeting room, where they were met with a large, spacious blue room. Enormous open windows looked out towards the barren valley and blue skies, and in the center of the room stood a gigantic azure pillar with a rotating crystal and lights swirling within. Two large mechanical rings surrounded the post, and an arch stood below them.

Standing within the arch was a woman, with long blonde hair that gradient into a red color at the ends. She wore a long white cage dress with tints of sky blue and green towards the bottom of her skirt. Attached to the back of her dress were five gold and blue swords that gave the appearance of wings. She carried her staff, the top of it consisting of mechanical rings and a center that spun at the top. The woman's gold eyes observed the room as Cloud and his companions filed in. "Thank you all for coming here; it could not have been easy. I am pleased, however, that you answered my call. I am Materia."

---

Once the meeting adjourned, some of the warriors left the tower while some lingered behind to interact. Again, the warriors were all summoned to fight in a war between gods. Cloud didn't like the idea of fighting for the gods, and it seemed like it was the same for his allies. Would he be bound to endless battles, repeatedly fighting for the gods' sakes like last time? The thought of it agitated Cloud, even more so than his meeting with Rufus and the Turks earlier.

"Hey, Cloud." His focus shifted to a shorter male with layered blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, who wore a white sleeveless shirt with a jabot collar and a teal vest. His signature golden tail swayed from side to side as he walked up to him.

"Zidane," he said, turning his full attention to him.

"Heya, I was wondering if you've seen Bartz?"

That's right. Cloud wondered if the other warrior was going to attend the meeting since everyone from before was there, but he wasn't able to spot the familiar wanderer. He wondered if the wind warrior was even summoned by the gods at all. He shook his head. "I haven't seen him. I thought maybe he might've been with you causing trouble."

Zidane rubbed his nose and chuckled. "You make it seem like we're such deviants."

Cloud cocked an eyebrow, giving him a challenging but slightly amused look. "Well, aren't you?"

Zidane placed a hand over his chest, acting as if he was hurt. "Oh, you're too much Cloud. My heart can only take so much."

"Heh. You never change Zidane. Dramatic as always."

The genome laughed. "What can I say? I like to put on a show," he said with a bow and smug expression. Once he calmed down, Zidane's playful expression shifted to a concerned one. "So, about Bartz, do you think he's even here at all? Everyone we know is here, and I see a few new faces too. Maybe he wandered off somewhere?"

"It's hard to say. Maybe we'll run into him soon."

"Probably. I hope Bartz is not getting himself in too much trouble. Anyway, I'll see you around, Cloud!  I'm gonna hang out with the ladies," he said with a wink and ran off, catching up with Terra and two other warriors, Squall and Lightning, as they headed towards the exit. Cloud rolled his eyes. Zidane was always a ladies man.

As the other warriors filed out, Cloud also decided to be on his way as well but was stopped when the sound of doors opening reached his ears. The blonde swordsman turned and saw Materia stand at the top of the stairs, her piercing gold eyes cast on him.

"What is it?" Cloud asked, trying not to sound irritated. He was not in the mood to play the gods' game. Cloud wanted to go back to his world, to the friends and family who waited for his return.

"I've been hearing whispers about a warrior who has wandered astray. I can feel his spirit not far from here."

Cloud raised an eyebrow. Could it be someone he knew? Was it Bartz, the warrior he and Zidane were just discussing? Was he okay, did something happen with him? "What do you want me to do?"

"Seek him out, then return with him. While you are on your journey, seek out Spiritus' forces."

The swordsman pondered on Materia's request. The thought of servicing the goddess ground on his nerves. But after what he and the other warriors have gone through, Cloud considered them all his friends even though he may not show it. If he were to be stuck in this realm again, then he'd best do what needed to be done, even if he didn't agree with it. But if this lost warrior was indeed Bartz, then he wanted to make sure he was safe, and the same went with his other comrades. He wasn't going to do it for Materia. With a look of determination, Cloud asked, "Where is he?"

"I can sense his energy past the ruins to the south. The portal nearby will lead you to him."

Without another word, Cloud turned away from the goddess, left the tower, and began his journey.

As he left Materia's domain, Cloud passed by the other warriors from the meeting but didn't stick around long enough to mingle with them. He acknowledged them with a nod and kept walking in the direction Materia guided him to. He approached the ruins, where he saw a few more of his associates. He continued to walk briskly, set on completing his task.

"Oh. Hey, Cloud." He turned to the source of the caller and saw his ally Vaan, a young man with an open crop vest made of metal fastened with a pendant, and a red ribbon sash wrapped around his waist to hold up his dark pants. Vaan stood up from his crouched position on a slab of rock derived from the ruins. "Striking out on your own?"

"It's a one-person job. That's why," Cloud replied, looking away and feeling awkward. He was the type to not engage in idle chatter. Even though they were friends, he was always more inclined to listen and observe rather than lead a conversation. He felt there was not much he could contribute.

"Ah, gotcha. Wouldn't want to hold you up," Vaan said with a wave.

Without another word, Cloud turned and continued to walk in the direction he headed for, leaving Vaan with the Onion Knight Luneth and a newcomer with long ears and tail named Y'shtola.

It didn't take long before Cloud saw a portal emanating white light. The gateway projected an image before him. It was a different realm from the desert valley he was in right now. This world consisted of giant blue crystals, with the starry skies surrounding the area. What a strange world, Cloud thought. He had never seen anything like that before, but that didn't faze him from his objective. Taking in a deep breath, Cloud stepped through the portal, engulfed by the light.

---

Cloud stepped out from the gateway and found himself on the other side. He glanced back at the gateway, seeing the barren wasteland he was at moments prior as the portal closed and disappeared behind him. There was no turning back now. He turned his gaze forward and observed his new surroundings for any signs of his ally or anything that would bring him harm. There was ample open space, with multiple floors that appeared to go higher up to a certain point. The stars seemed to travel past him at high speeds, and there was nothing but darkness behind him, giving him a hint that he might be going through space.

Cloud gripped the handle of his sword. He had a feeling there was an evil presence nearby, possibly more. He had to prepare himself. Cloud grabbed the smaller blades in his harness and assembled the parts with the base sword to form one large one. With the pieces assembled, he continued forward towards the top of the area, swinging the sword to have it rest on his shoulders.

He traveled up a few levels up when he heard the sounds of what sounded like a battle unfolding, as the yells and blades clashing reached his ears. Cloud started with a cautious walk, readying himself for a fight. It wasn't until he saw two familiar figures that he began to break out into a run.

One of the fighters was a young man with brunette hair wearing sky blue, adorned with hints of gold and gray. It was Bartz; he had found him, and he was battling against his enemy Exdeath. As he ran, he caught sight of someone standing on one of the large crystals high up and observed the battle. Cloud gritted his teeth at the sight of the familiar silver-haired swordsman who tormented him for years. His enemy levitated in the air, readying his seven-foot Masamune to strike down Cloud's ally.

Just as his arch-nemesis beelined for Bartz with his sword, Cloud launched himself up and blocked the blade. Cloud deflected the first attack, stopping Sephiroth in his tracks, then followed up with two other attacks, pushing the other man away with the last one. As Cloud came back down, he landed on the steps behind Bartz with ease, his back to his comrade. He stood straight, his sword ready in front of him as he faced his enemy.

He heard the familiar voice belonging to the younger warrior behind him, who sounded confused. "Huh? Cloud?"

Sephiroth landed with barely a sound at the base of the steps in front of Cloud. Exdeath teleported in front of Bartz at the top of the stairs. Cloud kept his gaze forward on Sephiroth, who turned around to face him. He had to be prepared for whatever he was going to throw at him. "So, Cloud, we meet again." Sephiroth's smooth voice reached his ears, causing Cloud to grip the handle of his weapon even tighter, but then he heard Bartz's voice.

"Cloud, what the blazes—wait, that is your name, right? Cloud, like puffs in the sky?" Bartz asked, still confused.

Cloud furrowed his eyebrows, trying to focus on their current situation rather than the jab on his name by the wind warrior. Damn it, Bartz. This isn't the time, he thought. Though at the same time, he was glad Bartz remembered him. That meant less explaining he would have to do. He turned his head to his left, catching a small glimpse of his companion behind him while keeping his guard up. "So, you remember me. Then you know what's going on."

Bartz groaned. "We're back here again?"

Their conversation was cut short by the deep and irritated voice of Exdeath. "You… What is the meaning of this?" he demanded to Sephiroth.

"I'm trying something," Sephiroth said as if he was having a casual conversation about the weather.

"What?" Exdeath asked, confused.

Cloud readied himself when Sephiroth walked forward with a smirk and prepared himself to defend. He locked eyes with his adversary, who had that sadistic glint present in his mako green eyes. "Just humor me," Sephiroth said, bringing his Masamune up in front of him in a readying stance.

"Cloud, why are we back here?" asked Bartz, glancing behind him. "I thought it was all over!"

"We can talk about it after. Stay focused, Bartz," Cloud replied cooly.

Sephiroth chuckled, then dashed forward with incredible god-like speed, swinging his sword at Cloud. With quick reflexes, Cloud blocked the oncoming attack. He pushed his enemy away and charged. He briefly noticed Bartz and Exdeath re-engaged in battle in the corner of his eye. Turning his attention back to Sephiroth, Cloud bolted once again at him, skillfully blocking and parrying the onslaught of attacks the other man threw his way, the clashes of their blades ringing in his ears. He evaded Sephiroth's sword that aimed for his head, feeling a light brush of breeze as a result of the swing. Cloud did a backflip, landing with grace. Charging at the other man, Cloud and Sephiroth crossed blades again, both exhibiting their impressive swordsmanship abilities.

With blades crossed, Sephiroth chuckled, his snake-like green eyes boring into Cloud's. "So, once again, you're a puppet of the gods. Is that why they sent you here? You haven't changed, Cloud," Sephiroth mocked, pushing away the blonde man back.

"Shut up!" Cloud yelled, his blood beginning to boil. Sephiroth always had a way to get under his skin. He knew what buttons to press to get him riled up. Cloud swung the fusion sword, the weapon once again clashing with Sephiroth's. "I'm no one's puppet! I came here on my own accord!"

Sephiroth scoffed as if that was the most absurd thing he heard. "We shall see about that. You do not yet know the full extent of what lies within you." With superhuman speed, he attacked Cloud with a combination of swings of the Masamune, giving himself the advantage as the blonde struggled to keep up.

Cloud was unable to dodge or block one of Sephiroth's attacks, as the Masamune pierced through the fabric of his top and grazed his right side. He groaned as pain shot through his torso, where the blade broke through the skin. As he jumped back, the sharp edge created another scratch on his side. With a growl, Cloud used his cross-slash attack, sending Sephiroth back. Just as he was about to charge at the other swordsman, he heard a pained yell coming from Bartz.

Immediately, Cloud shifted his attention to Bartz, pinned to the wall with Exdeath's large hand wrapped around Bartz's throat. The wanderer squirmed, feet dangling three feet from the ground as he clawed at Exdeath to loosen the grip on his neck. With his right hand, Exdeath used his telekinetic abilities to bring his sword up and point it at Bartz, ready to strike.

Cloud had to think of something quick, or his friend would surely perish. There was no time for him to run over and stop Exdeath. Releasing and unfolding one of the smallest side blades from the fusion sword, Cloud hurled it in Exdeath's direction. Just as the evil tree released his blade to impale Bartz, the side blade collided and deflected it away from the wanderer. Cloud took this opportunity to bolt at the armored being, jumped up into the air with his sword above him, and came down with his braver attack. Exdeath teleported away from Cloud's attack, dropping Bartz in the process.

With incredible speed, Cloud grabbed the side blade sticking out from a crystal and continued on the offensive, using both the fusion sword and side blade to attack his opponent. Exdeath swung his left hand forward, sending a wave of light towards Cloud. The swordsman rolled to the side, dodged the attack, and countered with blade beam to propel a projectile of fire from his sword. His opponent teleported away and reappeared behind him as he swung his weapon at Cloud. With the two blades in his hand, Cloud blocked the onslaught of attacks from the tree warlock. While his edges crossed with Exdeath, Sephiroth appeared behind him, ready to strike. As Cloud prepared to block his arch-nemesis as well, Bartz jumped in front of Sephiroth and blocked his attack. The wanderer parried another attack from Sephiroth, pushed him back, and followed up with a black mage spell, shooting a fireball at the silver-haired swordsman. Sephiroth dodged the attack and jumped back to the top of the stairs.

Cloud made brief eye contact with Bartz with a nod of thanks. He refocused on Exdeath and pushed him back with incredible strength. He parried another blow and countered with a climhazzard attack, which slammed the other back into the crystal wall and smashed the blue formation of gems. A cloud of dust emerged from the crash where Exdeath landed. "Whoa, now that's what I call a fight!" Bartz said with excitement, coming to stand next to Cloud after warding off Sephiroth with a big smile on his face.

With a growl, Exdeath stood up from the rubble of broken precious stones and teleported to the top of the stairs next to Sephiroth. The superhuman stood nonchalant as the warlock came up beside him, and exhibited a curious look to the skies. Exdeath noticed this and asked, "What are you scheming, Sephiroth?"

"That's for me to know," the silver-haired man replied calmly, as he raised a hand to the heavens as if reaching for something. A sinister smirk pulled at his lips. "Trust me—you'll like it."

All of a sudden, blocky slits in the sky appeared, spreading quickly in the heavens and revealing a dark realm. Within those large rips were serpent-like creatures that seemed to swim within the world beyond. Cloud watched in confused horror as the slits created several more across the sky and consumed their environment gradually. There was something familiar about these beasts. Cloud shook his head; this was no time to be thinking about it and gripped his sword again. Gritting his teeth, the former soldier launched himself towards Sephiroth, his enemy quickly blocking his attack. With their blades crossed, Cloud glared at his former hero. "What did you do?" Cloud demanded with a glowering look.

"Don't you worry," Sephiroth started with an unblinking expression, unfazed by Cloud's attack on him just now. "Eventually, our goals will align."

Confused for a brief moment, Cloud let his guard drop, and Sephiroth took full advantage of that. He parried Cloud's sword to push him back and throw off his balance. He managed to block the next attack but wasn't able to maintain his stance and was thrown back with the last assault, the force sending him flying down the steps. The next thing he knew, Cloud slammed back into Bartz and sent them sliding on the ground. When they came to a stop, Cloud quickly sat up. He needed answers from Sephiroth.

"And when they do, we shall meet once again," said Sephiroth. With that, he walked into the portal that appeared behind him. Exdeath soon followed after Sephiroth into the gateway, both of them disappearing.

"Get back here!" yelled Bartz before he groaned in frustration, throwing his fist down in anger.

"They'll …align?" Cloud asked, unsure of what Sephiroth had meant before his departure. What was Sephiroth planning? Also, what did he mean earlier, about not knowing the full extent of what lies within him? Perhaps it was his way of playing with his mind again.

As Cloud got back on his feet, Bartz said, "Let's get outta here. This place is gonna crumble."

There was no need to dwell on Sephiroth. He was positive they were going to run into him again. His expression softened as he turned to Bartz, lowering his guard. "Sure. They'll all be glad to—" Cloud was interrupted when a white light appeared beneath their feet. He and Bartz looked down, and he realized it was a glowing portal opening up beneath them. Without having a chance to react, he and Bartz got sucked into the portal, disappearing from the area.

[joonie-beanie]

Helping Hands

Pairing: Barbatos x Reader

Word Count: 5,526

Preview: The royal butler decides to pay you a visit when he hears that your back is acting up.

However, when he offers to give you a massage, things get a little out of hand.

** Please note that this is a cross-posting **

This chapter is also being posted on 7/10/2020 as a part of my “Devil Doms” series on AO3.

Obviously, you’re not as close to the residents of the Demon King’s Palace, or the other exchange students, as you are with the demon brothers. That’s to be expected, considering you literally live with the seven demons, and are pretty much around them at all times.

However, your relationships with the others are far from distant.

In fact, for the last two months, Diavolo and Barbatos have been inviting you over for tea every Sunday evening.

At first, you’d found it a bit strange to partake in a tea party so late in the day, and on a Sunday no less, but you’ve grown quite fond of your quiet evenings with the Devildom Prince and his faithful butler. Usually conversation is pleasant. Diavolo loves to ask you about your experiences in the human world, and never gets enough of your stories—even if it’s just you retelling simple parts of your day.

It has also been a good opportunity to get to know Diavolo and Barbatos more. Diavolo is very forthcoming with any information you’d like to know, but still tends to have this…front about him. Like he’s willing to let you in, but just not too deep. After all, he is the ruler of the Devildom, so you don’t blame him for keeping certain things to himself.

Barbatos…also feels like a puzzle, but a puzzle that with time, he will gladly let you put together. In the past month, you’ve managed to learn an array of information about him—his favorite foods, what he likes to drink, what he does when he’s not tending to Diavolo, etc.

Apparently, he enjoys baking, reading, and taking long, hot baths. He’s always formal out of habit, but ever so slowly has begun to shed such formality with you—making little remarks that would have seemed out of character in the past, but are becoming much more frequent nowadays.

In fact, last week when you’d showed up exhausted, he’d quipped about whether you were having any “late nights” with the brothers. The twinkle in his eye had confirmed that yes, he was implying it in a sexual manner, and Diavolo’s full belly laugh when he’d seen the shock and embarrassment on your face had echoed throughout the entire castle.

So, least to say, you and Barbatos are starting to get along quite well.

Unfortunately…you’re not sure that you’ll be able to make your weekly tea tonight—on account of the fact that you can barely walk.

Hand pressed against your lower back, you openly groan in pain as you press to your feet. You need to get to your DDD to let the two know of your predicament, but of course you’d managed to leave your phone on the other side of the room.

With your body curved at a horribly awkward angle, you stagger your way across the wooden floor. You think the source of your problem is a kink in your neck, that is throwing your entire body out of alignment, but you can’t say for sure considering everything hurts.

Sighing, you unlock your DDD and open up the messaging app. You click into your chat with the royals.

You: Hi there. I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it tonight. I’m not feeling too well…

It only takes a few seconds before Diavolo responds.

Diavolo: I was actually just about to text you. Something quite urgent came up, so I’m unavailable this evening.

Diavolo: Also, I’m so sorry to hear you’re not feeling well! Please, be sure to get rest and take care of yourself!

Smiling at his kind words, you respond with your gratitude. A moment later, you see ellipses pop up at the bottom of the chat, but they soon disappear. No message comes through, and you frown a little. However, after another few seconds, you receive a new notification.

A text from Barbatos, but outside of the group chat the two of you share with Diavolo.

Barbatos: May I ask what’s the matter? I was intending to still invite you over for tea since I enjoy your company regardless.

Barbatos: If you’re ill, however, I’d like to know if there’s anything I can do to help.

You’d be lying if you said a small part of you didn’t swoon at his concern, and the declaration of the fact that he enjoys having you around.

You: I have a kink in my back, and it’s honestly affecting my ability to do…anything, at the moment. I would have loved to have tea with you, though.

Barbatos responds right away.

Barbatos: If it’s alright with you, I’d be more than happy to bring the tea to you instead. Lord Diavolo has already departed for the evening, and I have nothing else to do.

Barbatos: Plus, I’ve heard that I’m a pretty skilled masseuse, as well. I may be able to assist with your current ailment.

Your heart flutters a bit at the idea of letting Barbatos massage you, since you’ve yet to be physical with the butler beyond hugs, but you can’t deny how appealing a massage sounds right about now. Your muscles are oh so sore, and at this point, you should be accepting any type of help you can get.

You: I don’t want to impose, but that sounds wonderful…

Barbatos: Think nothing of it. I will be over shortly. Do not feel the need to come and greet me, I shall ask Lucifer to guide me to your room.

You text back your confirmation before stumbling back to your bed—rolling onto the messy sheets with a pained hiss as you wait for Barbatos to arrive.

Only 20 or so minutes later, you hear the sound of knuckles wrapping against your bedroom door.

“Y/N?” It’s Lucifer’s voice. “Barbatos is here to see you.”

“Come in,” you call, knowing full well that you probably look a mess—laying belly down on your mattress with one leg hiked high, and one arm hanging low. It’s the comfiest position you could find, though.

Lucifer turns the knob and steps into the room first, a frown tugging at his lips when he notes how you’re positioned on your bed. Barbatos follows him in, worry in his eyes as well, but he still manages to smile.

“My, you weren’t kidding when you mentioned having a kink in your back.”

“I think death is approaching,” you respond, overly dramatic, and your words have both Barbatos and Lucifer chuckling.

“I shall leave you two to enjoy your tea. Please contact me if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Lucifer.”

With that, the Avatar of Pride makes his way from your room—closing the door behind him. Now, it’s just you and Barbatos.

“I think the tea may have to wait,” he comments, moving to set the basket he’d brought with him on the table at the far side of your room. You note that it’s woven wood—practically a picnic basket, and smile a little. How cute.

Forgetting about your pain for a moment, you watch as the butler opens the basket up and reaches inside. You expect him to produce some tea cups, or saucers, but instead he pulls out what looks to be a bottle of oil.

Realization strikes you, and your cheeks begin to heat up.

“You know, Barbatos, you really don’t need to give me a massage…,” you tell him quietly, mumbling the words as you watch him begin to roll up his sleeves. He’s dressed more casually than usual—his overcoat and tie nowhere to be found. Instead, he’s simply donning his green button up shirt, and a pair of black slacks.

It’s…a good look on him. Especially with the sleeves folded neatly up to his elbows. And when he slowly plucks off his white gloves, revealing fingernails painted the same color as the highlights in his hair, you feel your heart skip a beat.

“It’s clear that you’re in desperate need of one, and I already reassured you that you’re not imposing,” he tells you, making his way to your side with the bottle of oil in his hands. Per usual, there’s a pleasant smile on his face as he surveys you.

You hope that you’re not blushing brightly enough for him to notice.

“It’s just that…I’ve never had a massage before, so…,” you trail off, and it’s not a lie. Massages have always seemed like a luxury to you, so you’ve never gone out of your way to get one, despite how much you’ve heard about their wonders.

“Ah,” Barbatos hums, a look of understanding in his eyes. “Well, we can always stop if it has an adverse effect on the situation. And I of course want you to feel comfortable.”

His words put your mind at ease. He’s always so kind, no matter who he’s talking to, or who is watching.

“So…how do we…start?” you ask, feeling far too awkward. You already have a suspicion that you know what he’s going to say, and yet—

“Are you mobile enough to take your shirt off?”

Ah, yep, there it is.

If there was any hope of hiding your blush before, there’s certainly none now. And yes, you’re aware that Barbatos is only offering to do this because you’re friends, and because you’re in pain. There should be no reason to be embarrassed by the situation, and yet you are.

You take a second to try and calm your mind.

“I…I think I can--,” you eventually say, attempting to sit up. However, as soon as you place your palms on the mattress and try to push yourself up, a bolt of pain shoots straight down your spine, and a high-pitched cry falls from your lips.

Barbatos’ hand is immediately on your back—a gesture of comfort. The warmth from his palm soaks through your t-shirt, and a small part of you wishes that he’d make a point of touching you more often.

“Well, I will take that as a resounding no.”

There’s a perplexed frown on his face as he looks at you—his worry deepening by the second.

“Can you lift your arms, at the very least?”

You grunt, miraculously managing to lift both of your arms above your head. Barbatos breathes a laugh, the position a little amusing. You’re beginning to look like a horrible contortionist.

“Would you be opposed to me undressing you?” Your brain short circuits for a moment. “Since you were able to lift your arms, it’s likely the easiest option at this point.”

“Sure,” you respond without hesitation. You’re desperately trying to keep your wits about you, and yet, you can’t help the way your body jolts when you feel Barbatos’ fingers grip the hem of your shirt.

He pauses for a moment.

“Did I startle you?”

“No…,” you grumble, causing him to laugh. He drags his hands upwards—the t-shirt slowly peeling up your back. When he gets near your breasts, you manage to inch your body off the mattress so it doesn’t get…well, caught.

Of course, as Barbatos pulls the fabric past your chest, you also realize that you hadn’t bothered to put on a bra today—entirely due to the fact that 1. Your body was too stiff to attempt even putting one on, and 2. Bras suck.

So now here you are—Barbatos finally ridding you of your shirt—which means you’re entirely bare from the waist up. Oh, and the only thing saving you from being completely naked in front of the royal butler is the pair of shorts you’re wearing, which suddenly feel far too short, and far too tight for comfort.

“Are you alright?” he questions. His hand settles between your shoulder blades, and you feel goosebumps rise on your flesh. You’re so used to the sensation of his soft gloves, that the skin on skin contact is making you react in ways you hadn’t expected…

“I’m okay,” you respond, nodding a little. You move your arms so they’re folded beneath your cheek, and you carefully turn your head—facing yourself away from Barbatos. The last thing you want is him seeing how red you’ve become.

“If so, then I’ll begin,” he says. You hear him pop open the cap on the bottle, and you take a quiet breath—trying to prepare yourself. “If you ever feel uncomfortable, please let me know.”

“Will do, Barb.”

You mumble the words without thinking, and it takes your brain a second to realize what you’ve said.

“I-I mean--,” your words cut off, breath hitching as Barbatos grips your sides. He moves his hands gently against your back, spreading the oil on his palms across your soft skin.

“Barb?” he echoes, chuckling to himself. “That’s a first.”

“I--,” you shiver as he continues rubbing his hands up and down your spine. Apparently, you’re much more sensitive to touch than you’d realized. Just great. “—just…I mean. Slip of the tongue?”

“You may call me “Barb” if you so wish,” he responds, and you can hear the amusement lining his tone. The demon drags his hands back up to your shoulders, his thumbs kneading at the tense muscles near your neck, and whine leaves your lips.

“Good or bad?” he questions, and as another shiver rakes up your spine, you realize just how fucked you are. Your body, of course, aches beneath the surface, but your skin is just so sensitive. It takes all of your willpower to keep from writhing against the sheets as he continues his ministrations—rubbing circles between your shoulder blades.

“Um…a little of both?”

He hums considerately at your comment, his eyes surveying you closely. Even as you attempt to stifle the instinctive reactions of your body, there’s a subtle twitch of your muscles—a small intake of breath, or a flex of your toes.

When he reaches your mid-back—his fingers curling around your sides as he presses his thumbs into the muscles near your spine—he hears you gasp. Your body stiffens, fingers digging into the sheets near your head. Barbatos debates stopping, but…he gets the feeling that you’re not in pain.

As the thought occurs to him, a little bit of heat rise to his face. Until now, he hadn’t thought twice about your current position, or the fact that he’s touching you so intimately, but…

Barbatos swallows, yet his hands continue on their journey down the length of your back. He works slowly, doing his best to thoroughly rub every inch of skin—hoping to soothe the tight muscles that lay beneath. Perhaps if he focuses on the task at hand, he’ll forget about the little whines that spill from your lips, or the way your body shivers beneath his fingers.

As Barbatos faces his own dilemma, you find yourself rapidly descending into insanity. Each second that ticks by with the demon butler’s hands roaming your body has tendrils of heat snaking through your limbs. As much as you attempt to ignore the way his touches are making you feel, it’s nearly impossible.

Quicker than you had expected, you feel arousal beginning to pool between your legs. You’d hadn’t intended to get turned on by the massage, but here you are—desperately trying to smother the array of embarrassing sounds that have built in your chest.

However, the instant Barbatos’ hands move to your lower back—thumbs pressing into the muscles near your spine—your lips part.

“Fuck,” you moan, your body curving into the mattress. Your toes curl, knees bending as your calves lift from the sheets.

Barbatos’ hands still. You go stiff, all of the blood in your body rushing to your face.

“I…Barbatos, I am so sorry, I—”

“I’ve never witnessed anyone react to a massage so…vocally,” he says, picking his words carefully. His fingers coast up your sides, once against making you shiver, and you bite your lip to keep from gasping when you feel his hair tickle your cheek.

“Would you prefer if I stopped now?” The words are whispered into your ear. You can feel his hot breath on your skin—the curl of his fingers around your ribcage as he holds you—and your heartbeat quickens.

“I…I don’t want you to stop,” you respond honestly, voice quiet. “But I’m not sure I can stop myself either…”

“I never could have imagined that you would be so affected by a simple massage,” he chuckles, his fingers giving you a little squeeze as he leans back, retaking his standing position beside you. You release a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“I didn’t realize I would be either…I don’t blame you if you want to stop.”

“As long as you’re alright, I would like to keep going,” he informs you, his palms coasting down either side of your spine until his grip is once again settled near the sensitive spot on your tailbone. You keen as his hands cup either side of your ass, thumbs working into the tense muscles at the center of your back.

“Hah…,” your fingers once again grip the sheets. Now that Barbatos has addressed your reactions to his touches, you feel a bit more playful. “Are you actually enjoying my reactions?”

He chuckles. “Would it be inappropriate if I said yes?”

The gears in your head grind to a halt. Your tongue pokes out to wet your lips. That’s not what you had expected.

“…Really?”

“Perhaps it is a bit disgraceful for me to admit, but…,” his movements still, his fingers flexing and giving your ass the lightest of squeezes. “…I would very much enjoy it if we could continue.”

You’re surprised to hear such words from him, but you’d be lying if you said they didn’t excite you.

You nod your consent. “Go ahead.”

Barbatos reaches for the bottle of oil at his feet, pouring a little more into his hands. You jolt when his palms encase one of your thighs—his touch dragging down your leg until he gets to your ankle. He then repeats the action on your other leg, a smile tugging at his lips as he notes your body’s instinctual response to his touches.

However, he doesn’t make comment. Instead, he focuses on working at the muscles in your thighs—his thumbs carving a path down the center of the supple flesh. As he does so, you become acutely aware of how close his fingers are to your clothed womanhood.

The realization causes more wetness to pool between your legs, and you bite your lip, wondering exactly how much longer you’ll be able to withstand the massage before you finally crack.

You want to say that your current affliction is entirely your fault—that it’s solely a product of your oversensitive body’s reaction to the massage—but you know it’s not. Barbatos is obviously getting something out of this situation as well, and that something definitely bridges beyond the pride of being a good masseuse.  

Your toes curl as he works at the muscles in your calves—a sigh heavy with need passing through your parted lips.

You want him to touch you more. Where you’re aching to be touched.

“Barb--,” you start, mentally preparing yourself for the embarrassing question you’re about to ask, but you never get there. Barbatos presses his fingers into the back of your knee, and a moan tears from your throat.

The butler pauses, his gaze turning to your face. Until now, you’ve spent the massage facing away from him, but when he glances up, he finds that you’re returning his stare. Your entire face is red, bottom lip tugged between your teeth as a clear sign of your embarrassment. However, he can tell by the look in your eyes—your pupils blown wide—that you’re aroused.

His heart thumps painfully against his ribs.

“Barb, I--,” you don’t know what to say, entirely out of sorts. You’re ashamed, and horny, and a part of you wants to run away, but another part wants him to continue forever.

“Y/N,” he drags you out of your inner turmoil by speaking your name. One of his hands reaches forward, cupping your cheek. He leans in, your faces mere inches apart, and you finally notice the blush on his cheeks. It’s subtle, but there.

His gaze falls to your lips.

“May I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you breathe immediately, and he closes the gap without second thought.

The kiss is tender—a little hesitant, but full of need, and not just from you. Sighing pleasantly, you mold your lips with his once more, and then again, but before you can turn the kisses into a full out make out session, you feel Barbatos’ palm on your ass.

His hand moves downward, sneaking between your snug thighs. When he presses his digits against your clothed sex, you can’t help the lewd gasp that leaves you. Your hips instinctively grind against him, seeking more friction, and you feel him smile.

“Shall I stop?” he whispers.

“No, don’t,” you shake your head, and Barbatos leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. He’s pleased to hear those words.

Sitting back, Barbatos surveys you—watching you closely as he drags two of his fingers down the seam of your shorts. He hadn’t noticed before, but your arousal is already soaked into the dark fabric—a clear sign that you’d been enjoying his touches up until now.

When he finds that special bundle of nerves, drawing out another quiet cry falling from your lips, he chuckles. You bury your head in your folded arms, hips rocking back against his fingers.

“Ah, shit,” you breathe, unable to help yourself. You’re already so stupidly pent up from the massage—even him touching you through your shorts feels delicious. And Barbatos can’t help but get hard at the sight of you—your almost naked body curving against the mattress as you lift your hips and rock your pussy back and forth on his digits.

Reaching his free hand down, the demon butler gently squeezes your ass, relishing the little moan it draws from you. He helplessly craves to hear more of your sounds.

His fingers leave your clit, but before you can think to whine at the lost, you feel his digits curl around the crotch of your shorts. You freeze, heart hammering against your ribs, but don’t indicate for him to stop. While you’re nervous, you want this.

And Barbatos makes note of your reaction, giving you a few ample seconds to express any discontent. However, you do not, and so the butler tugs your shorts to the side, revealing your womanhood. You bite your lip, wriggling as his other hand slips beneath your shorts—once again taking hold of your ass without the fabric barrier.

As he holds you steady, two of his digits once more slide between your slick folds, gathering your arousal. You expect him to go back to rubbing your clit, but instead he curls his fingers into your pussy, and a gasp falls from your lips.

“Oh, fuck, Barb.” You groan. Your fingers take hold of the bed sheets, lip tugging between your teeth as you feel him experimentally pump his fingers in and out of you—stretching out your wet walls.

He moves slowly—testing the waters, and you clench around him—enjoying the girth of his fingers. Barbatos can’t take his eyes off of you.

“Is this alright?” he questions, curling his digits. The action has you moaning, and you nod your head.

“More, please.”

Barbatos breathes out through his nose at that, a little amused at the sound of your need.

Kneeling against the edge of the mattress to get a better angle, Barbatos begins picking up his pace. His fingers curl against your walls, and he smiles when he finds your sensitive spot—a surprised gasp escaping you. Immediately your stomach is curving into the mattress—hips pressing back as you attempt to take him deeper.

Barbatos gives your ass a squeeze, eyes sparkling. He debates asking if you’re feeling good, but he already knows the answer.

With his finger still fucking into you—your hips now rocking back ever so slightly to meet him—Barbatos moves his other hand between your legs. His thumb rests against your clit, drawing languid circles, and your breath catches.

“Fuck,” you bite the word out, muscles tensing. The demon butler feels your pussy clench around his fingers—orgasm quickly rising to the surface.

“Barb, please,” you whine, tugging at the sheets. Your heart is racing, breathless pants falling from your lips. Always one to please, Barbatos is more than happy to oblige. He presses against your clit harder, rubbing quicker, and in less than a minute, you’re coming undone for him.

Moan slipping past your lips, you tumble into your orgasm. Your pussy contracts around his still moving fingers, waves of pleasure rolling throughout your body. The butler doesn’t pull his digits from inside of you until he sees your body go slack against the sheets.

“You’re certainly one hell of a masseuse,” you mumble once you’ve regained your bearings, causing him to chuckle.

“I can assure you most of my clients don’t end up with my fingers inside of them.”

“No?” you question, a playful post-orgasm glow on your face as you turn to look at him. He smiles fondly at the sight of your pleasantly flushed cheeks.

“No,” he reassures, eyes creasing as he seats himself on the mattress beside you. For a moment, the two of you simply stare at each other, a sense of peace settling over the two of you. Then, your gaze falls to his lap. The tent against his slacks is quite obvious.

Noting where your eyes have strayed, Barbatos has the humility to blush.

“I apologize for my…reaction,” he quickly excuses himself, glancing away. “I assure you I didn’t intend to take advantage of you.”

Instead of responding, you press onto your hands and knees and turn to face him. With your face dangerously close to his crotch, you bat your eyelashes up at him innocently.

“If you don’t mind, I’d be perfectly alright with helping you in return, Barbatos.”

The butler looks shocked at the offer, but after a few seconds, he lifts a hand and gently cards it through your hair—a soft look of hunger in his eyes.

“Only if you wish.”

Smiling, you immediately prop onto your elbows—knees folding on the bed beneath you—and reach out to fiddle with his pants. Within seconds, you’ve managed to free his length. Your hand immediately wraps around the base of his shaft, and Barbatos closes his eyes at the sensation, taking a deep breath.

You smile at his pleased reaction, your mouth moving to press a kiss against his slit before you stick out your tongue and roll it around the head of his cock. And when you take him into your mouth—your hand still fisted around the lower half of his length, stroking languidly—his breath catches. The fingers in your hair grip a bit tighter.

You giggle around his cock.

“Good?” you question, pulling off. Your hand moves in bolder strokes against him, making up for the absence of your mouth as you turn to stare up at the demon. There’s a blush dusting his cheeks.

“I believe you’re asking a question you already know the answer to,” he responds, tongue darting out to wet his lips. You smile cheekily at his words, fingers tightening ever-so-slightly around his length. You see his jaw clench.

“Good.”

Turning, you once more take the tip of his cock between your lips. You focus yourself on pleasing Barbatos—alternating between trailing your tongue against him, and sucking him into your mouth. The combination of your hand pumping his shaft, and your mouth concentrating on his head is quite honestly devastating, and within minutes the demon butler finds himself nearing his release.

“Y/N,” he warns, his voice slightly strained. He gives your roots a little tug, and you release him from your mouth with an audible pop. You’re seriously going to drive him crazy.

“Yes?” you question, your hand continuing to stroke him. You feel his cock jump in your grip.

“Stay like this,” he says, keeping his hold on your hair. You take that as a sign to get him off with just your hand, and you don’t complain. If that’s his preference, then you’re more than happy to go with it.

Aware of his impending orgasm, you simply continue your ministrations—your fist pumping his shaft until he finally reaches his breaking point. With a shaky breath, Barbatos spills his seed into your hand. His chest rises and falls quickly as you pump him through his orgasm without missing a beat.

You only stop when he’s milked dry—his length beginning to go soft in your grasp.

“Is that fair payment for the massage?” you ask, looking up at him with a smile. He loosens his grip on your hair—his hand moving to cup your cheek as he stares at you. You can see the post-orgasm satisfaction swimming in his green eyes.

“No payment was required,” he tells you honestly. “But yes, that was very much enjoyable.”

A warm feeling of contentment settling in your chest, you move to sit up, but pause when you realize that you’re still topless. Eyes going wide, you cross your arms over your chest, face heating up, and Barbatos chuckles.

“After all we’ve experienced together tonight, you’re suddenly coy about me seeing your breasts?”

“You hush,” you tell him, swinging your legs off the side of the bed. You reach down to fetch your discarded t-shirt, and when you stand straight, an arm wraps around your waist from behind.

“You’re covered in oil, so I would suggest showering,” Barbatos tells you, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. The contact is only for a brief moment—his touch disappearing as he separates himself, taking a step back—and yet your heart flutters. “I’ll prepare the tea while you clean up.”

“Okay…,” you agree, glancing over your shoulder at him. He’s smiling pleasantly, looking far too put together for someone that just came a minute before. There’s not a hair out of place on his head—or even a stain on his trousers.

How unfair.

Turning, you head into your bathroom to rinse off, and Barbatos immediately busies himself with readying your beverages for the evening.

By the time you return from your shower—t-shirt back in place, and a towel atop your damp hair, the room is set up for a tea party. Barbatos is seated on one side of the table, casually surveying a book that you’d left on your desk. One you’d borrowed from Satan.

“I hope you don’t mind me taking up so much of your evening,” he says when he spots you, setting down the reading material.

“Not at all,” you say, moving to join him. Despite the newly shared intimacy between the two of you, the atmosphere feels comfortable, and you’re grateful for that.

Standing, Barbatos pours you both a cup of tea, and things fall into place as usual. You spend a long while chatting—catching up on events of the previous week, and talking about whatever topics cross your mind. By the time the snacks are gone, and the tea has gone cold, it’s quite late.

“I apologize for staying until such an hour,” he says as you help him clean the table. The screen of your DDD indicates that it’s already past 11. You shake your head.

“Seriously, Barb, it’s no big deal. I lost track of time too.”

He can’t help but chuckle at your nickname for him. It’s a nickname that will be solely reserved for you to say.

“Still, it is a school night. I’d best not stay any longer, or I fear Lucifer will have my head.”

“Well, I can’t exactly disagree with that,” you respond with a laugh, holding your arms in front of you. Your eyes trail on him as he finishes packing the basket he’d arrived with. He then picks it up, and starts for your door. You quietly follow after him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you ask, although you already know you will. Of course you will—Barbatos is always at RAD during the week.

Nonetheless, the demon butler smiles at you.

“Yes, I look forward to seeing you.”

With that, he grasps the doorknob and pulls your door open. However, he makes it only one step into the hall before he pauses, turning back to face you.

“Oh, and Y/N?”

You blink. “Hmm?”

“If you’d ever like another massage, please don’t hesitate to let me know. It seems to have worked wonders for you.”

A playful grin pulls at his lips, and he’s gone before you are able to fully digest his words. It takes you a good few seconds to realize what he means—your eyes looking down at yourself, and registering that you’re standing and walking without a sliver of pain.

“Ah!” you say, shocked, and you swear you hear him laugh from up the hall.

[vercopaanir]

Of the Mudhorn

The Lovely Moons, Chapter 16

Masterlist Pairing: The Mandalorian x Blind!Reader

Summary: While Kuiil takes care to save the life of the wounded fathier, you and the Mandalorian care for the foundlings in the desert, and you learn the secret of the child.

Words: 5.1k 

Rating/Warnings: T, maybe for some romantic themes? I don’t know, man.

Notes: Thank you so, so much to everyone who has read and left comments. I cannot believe how this story has grown so exponentially! It could not have happened without your support. I am currently planning another PP character story. I’m not sure when it’ll be published, but I may be posting a preview of it sometime in the near future!

Please check out the newest artwork for this story here!

AO3

Recovering from your injuries has kept you asleep for a day and a half, so you’re not remotely tired when Kuiil offers you, once again, the use of his sleeping quarters. He had prepared a humble meal for you and the two children, and the Mandalorian sat quietly across from the table, one boot resting on his knee as he helps the petal eared infant in his lap drink bantha milk from a small clay cup. The Ugnaught speaks of the peace that had come to the valley, the steady work of his moisture farm, and the temperament of the blurrgs while you fill yourself on warm food and safety.

You stand to clean the table, grateful that he has lit several lanterns in the spacious living quarters so you can see better. When you gather the dishes, you don’t miss the way the two siblings yawn, sinking their elbows onto the table, but what surprises you most is the sudden jerk of the Mandalorian’s helmet when his head begins to nosedive forward.

Rounding the table, you gently extract the baby from his arms and smile softly when his visor tilts up toward you. Laying a cloth over your shoulder, you pat the child’s back with firm thumps and whisper, “Why don’t you take the bed? I’m not going to sleep for a time.”

When he doesn’t even put up an argument, you know he’s exhausted his physical limitations. He pushes himself to stand with a weary exhale from deep within his chest, and he practically drags himself to the back of the tent. He pauses as you turn away, and you hear his deep baritone rumble, “Come on.”

Corde and Venka slip from their seats at the table, gratefully falling in line behind the bounty hunter and rubbing their eyes with chubby fists. You smile when their familiar shadows disappear behind the thick curtain partition, and you smother a laugh to hear the baby on your shoulder belch and giggle triumphantly.

“I will tend the fathier, now. You are welcome to join me,” Kuiil says with a shrewd look, and you slide the baby comfortably into the crook of your arm, letting your free hand rest upon the Uganaught’s shoulder. He leads you outside, across the small yard to the blurrg’s pen. He shows you the stool by his workbench, and you set the child on the ground to toddle near your feet, enjoying the cool desert breeze while Kuiil begins sorting through husbandry supplies. “Will you tell me where this creature came from, and the children, or will I be left to guess?”

“I would be surprised if you couldn’t,” you say, smiling when he snorts and sets himself to work. The animal seems too spent to be able to fight or fuss under the handling of the Uganaught’s care, and you begin to tell the tale of everything that had happened after your last visit to Avarla-7.

Kuiil is an adept listener, sharing that quality with the Mandalorian. He doesn’t interrupt you, and he only makes affirming noises to assure you he is listening while he washes, tends, and treats the animal’s wounds. When you get to the story of Canto Bight, of your time in the stables, he returns to the workbench to remove his gloves and sit across from you. 

“The children have burns on their hands, from what I suspect are brands. This is not uncommon in slave trade,” Kuiil says, and if he sees your face drain of color, if he notices the trembling that takes over your hands, he is too polite to comment on it. “I suspect, had the Mandalorian not come, you would wear a matching set.”

“Part of me will never let go of the guilt that he came back,” you confess, lowering your voice, and your chin to look down at your hands that were pristine beneath the lamplight. “So much could have gone wrong.”

“And do you think the small comfort you might have achieved would compare to the loss the Mandalorian would have taken?” 

Kuiil has never spoken to you unkindly, but the terse, unforgiving growl makes you feel rather sick. You turn your eyes toward the child that is currently hopping after a toad that is nearly as big as he is, and you bite your lip. “I-I don’t know.” 

“I do. And I suspect he does, as well.”

You watch the dim shape of the child at play, his world once again tilted decidedly in his favor without any knowledge of the hungry eyes following him from every corner of the galaxy. For something so small, so pure of heart, it overwhelms you, this knowledge that there is evil in the universe searching to snuff his little life out. Your hands curl in your lap, and you only realize you are gritting your teeth when your jaw begins to ache.

“I thought, when I first came here, that I was being traded a life of servitude for honest work,” you whisper, your voice beginning to choke with the tightness of contrition. A tear pearls in your eye, and when it falls to land upon your dress, the little child turns to look up at you as if he heard its descent. “I feel as if I somehow unwittingly cheated the universe. That one day the Maker will look down, see the excess of my happiness, and take it all back.”

The sounds of the frogs and insects and the quiet stream of the wind in the air is all there is to hear between two former slaves, for you know that Kuiil knows your fear first hand. There is nothing he can say, wise or brazen, that will ever quell the haunting in your heart of being a stranger without the yolk of servitude. 

“Perhaps, your reward is great because you have saved two more souls from the worries you yourself now carry,” Kuiil grouses, looking down at his workbench and beginning again the task of organizing it. You turn your pale eyes towards him as he begins sorting through parts, fishing out a dirty rag to wipe the workspace down with. “And should the Maker find fault in that, I would no longer wish to know them.” 

The child toddles up to you, gently hugging your ankle and pressing his face into the fabric of your dress. You lift him up into your arms, kissing his nose before pressing your brow to his. Six little fingers touch your cheeks, and you sniffle and smile. You stand slowly, the Ugnaught’s words going round and round in your head.

“Thank you, Kuiil. For everything.” 

He says nothing, and you sit quietly until the sky nearly begins to lighten on the horizon. You turn towards the tent, the child nuzzling against your chest and yawning sweetly. You step quietly, slipping your boots off near the door and hunching down as you part the partition back. Upon the bed, the Mandalorian is flat on his back dressed in full armor, snoring quietly through his helmet, which weighs his neck down at an odd angle. Corde is asleep beneath his arm, hugging his middle and burying her face into the fabric of his shirt. Venka is curled at the foot of the bed, and you cover your lips to keep from laughing at the sight. Tucking the child into his pram, you gently nudge it so it floats silently beside the bed, and turn to the mess of bodies you now face.

You gently begin to situate the small boy, lifting his head to slip a folded blanket beneath his cheek to serve as a pillow. Next, you remove the Mandalorian’s boots, taking care with every buckle and tie so you can set them quietly on the ground. Just as you brush Corde’s hair from her warm cheek, a gloved hand grabs your wrist on instinct.

“It’s still early,” you murmur, lowering yourself so you perch on the edge of the bed by his hip, feeling the strength give in his fingers where he holds you. “Go back to sleep.” 

His hand falls back onto the bed, and just like that, he’s out once again. You smile, gently laying down beside him, heat flushing your face at being so close. You’re on the edge of the cot itself, and you can’t help but remember his words from the hotel room when he took the space nearest the door. Your head pillows on his bicep, but you can’t be more comfortable than you are in that moment. You expect to be by yourself when you wake up, as is common with the bounty hunter you’ve grown to know and share your space with, but when next you open your eyes, there is an early morning light streaming through the hut’s meshing that catches on the beskar vambrace draping over your abdomen. 

Quiet breathing through the vocoder is nestled in your hair that’s strewn across the pillow, and when you shift just slightly, you realize that someone has covered both of you with a blanket. The light is enough for you to see that neither child that had been asleep the night before remains where you left them, and when you look at the pram and the open shutters, it also sits empty.

Raising a hand to your forehead, you slowly sit up, fighting a yawn, before gently moving the dead weight of the arm pinning you down. There’s a muffled snort from under the helmet sinking back into the pillow, and his hand flexes on top of the blanket. 

“Mphf-what’re you doing?” His voice is a rasp, scratchy and rough with sleep, and you wonder if he rested at all while you were recovering. You lay a hand on his arm soothingly, rubbing your thumb in circles. His voice is almost a plea, “Lay…lay back down.”

A smile dances at the corners of your mouth, and you whisper, “All the children are gone.” The utterly unimpressed grunt from under the helmet tells you exactly what the Mandalorian thinks of that, and your grin widens. “Sleep more if you like, but I would feel guilty leaving our host alone to mind all three of them.”

“As if they’d slow him down,” he mutters, but you feel him sit up behind you as you let your feet drop to the floor. You let your world settle upright, your balance and wakefulness coming together as the chill of the desert is chased away by the sun.

A gentle pressure between your shoulders inclines your head to turn, finding the Mandalorian pressing his helmet ponderously against your back. 

“Really, you can keep sleeping,” you whisper, your heart aching at the sound of such a deep sigh.

His helmet angles to the side, and you feel his vambrace tuck beneath your breasts as his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you backwards against him. Your head falls back into the crook of his neck and shoulder, and for a moment, you let yourself go limp, enjoying being handled.

“A tempting offer,” the rough baritone rumbles quietly. “But will you make it worth my while?”

Instinctively, your legs press together at the same time your lips part to breathe. Your heart begins to pound, heavy and fervent when his other gloved hand comes up to cup the front of your throat. There’s only the barest tease of pressure, and you know he can feel how your pulse is singing beneath the leather of his glove. Your own hands fall, resting firmly on his thighs that crowd either side of you, and you swallow hard.

Your breath rattles in your throat, and you lick your lips, turning your face toward his helmet that presses gently to your temple. “I…I don’t have anything to offer.”

His hum is laced with the static of his modulator, and you feel it deep in your belly. His arm around your waist tightens, and you bite your lip near enough to bleed when he drags you back hard against his body, leaving not even air between you.

“Don’t underestimate yourself, ner Mesh’la.” His voice is a growl now, so quiet that you can only hear it from beneath the helmet, and your entire body shivers when the beskar nuzzles your jaw, just beneath your ear. “You could have me on my knees, if you wished.”

You open your mouth, whether to whisper a plea to continue or beg him to stop, but both of your attentions draw to the giggling coo near the partition of the sleeping quarters.

The child stares up at the both of you, large, dark eyes blinking sweetly, and one hand drags his stuffed bantha behind him on the ground. You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, and you feel a warm flush when you can feel the Mandalorian’s own chuckle in his chest at your back. His arms fall away from you, and you push yourself from him and the bed to stand up. Immediately, the child toddles at full speed toward you, huffing excitedly and waving his free hand upward. 

Leaning down, you lift the infant up into your arms, and he drops his toy in deference to being up high, immediately grabbing tiny fistfulls of your hair in his fists. The Mandalorian moves around the small space, and you blow sweet kisses into the baby’s face until he falls forward, pressing his open mouth against your chin and gurgling happily. 

“He missed you,” the Mandalorian says, his voice quiet as he sits to put his boots on. You tilt your head toward the child, bumping foreheads with him and smiling when he tries to kiss your nose next. He achieves biting the tip and grinning up at you proudly. The warrior’s voice catches when he says, “I didn’t think he would stop crying.”

Your heart sinks, and your smile falls, looking down at the little one in your arms to his father who busies himself with the ties of his boots. His view changes when you step between his feet, and he looks up at you through his visor. You think you can see his throat shift when he swallows.

“You’re a good father, you know,” you murmur, one hand drifting to cup the chiseled arch of one side of his helmet. You hear him exhale, his breath shaking when you smile. “Whether I’m here or not.”

His glove comes up to cup the back of your hand. You linger a moment before you turn and duck from behind the partition, carrying the child through the modest living quarters. You know your hair is tangled and your dress is wrinkled, but you step into your boots and begin preparing a small meal for the baby that hangs in the crook of one elbow. You want to give the Mandalorian privacy to eat or drink before you take up more space and time in the tent. The sun is shining bright, and when you step outside, you can hear Corde giggling from somewhere in the distance near the blurrg pen.

You sit at the workbench on the same stool you occupied the night before, leaning the child back so he could hold the little cup full of cold bantha milk comfortably and feed in the shade. Heavy footfalls bring your face up, and you smile at the blurry shape of your host.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Kuiil greets, picking up a tool from the bench in front of you. He seems to linger over the child, who blinks owlishly at him. “He’s eating more these days.”

“He is,” you agree, patting the child’s tummy with affection. “I think he must be going through a growth spurt.” 

“Perhaps it is from his power,” Kuiil ruminates, rounding the workbench to the other side.

This draws your attention, and you blink slowly. “W-What power?”

Kuiil pauses, looking across the bench at you with a hard frown, his bushy brows lowering in confusion. “You do not know? The Mandalorian did not…tell you?” he demands gruffly, and you’re left feeling not unlike a fish, your mouth opening and closing helplessly. “Did he not speak of the mudhorn?”

You wrack your brain for any detail you may have missed from the story you’ve grown so fondly of thinking about, but you can’t recall anything about the child. He had simply told you the child had been present when a mudhorn was defeated.

Kuiil seems to interpret this misinformation from your face and throws the tool down so noisily, the child jumps and nearly drops the cup he drinks from. The Uganaught storms off toward the tent, and you flush with worry, sure you’ve just opened a door that was meant to stay closed. You heave a sigh, looking down at the little one you cradle, sighing, “I think I got your father in trouble. What could he be talking about, hm?”

The baby simply blinks up at you, his eyes falling slowly with drowsiness, and you can’t help the smile on your face. Movement out of your periphery draws your eye, and you see the Mandalorian stomping out of the tent, Venka trailing meekly behind him. The bounty hunter collapses near a small fire pit, his rifle across his knees with a cloth. The little boy sits near him, and Kuiil emerges a moment later, huffing up to you.

“That man is more muscle than sense, at times,” he growls at you, to which you blush and bite down a grin. “So I shall tell you the tale.” 

Just as he had listened to your story the night before, you spend the entirety of his recollection sitting quietly and attentively. You only move to set the empty cup aside when the child has finished his meal, lifting him to your shoulder to burp him. Kuiil pauses to offer you a cleaning cloth, and you grow still when he describes the Mandalorian’s experience with the mudhorn.

“I…I don’t understand,” you murmur, looking down at the little one who’s nuzzling against your neck sleepily. “How is that possible?”

“I have heard stories, myself,” Kuiil rumbles, watching the little one dozing against you. “But they are not answers. I do not know what is true, but I do know that the Mandalorian would not lie about this young one.”

You lay one hand against the child’s back, feeling him breathe softly and curl against you for warmth. It doesn’t seem real, like something out of a dream, but it begins to fall into place with what you do know. 

Why would the Empire seek out such a small innocent without something to gain? Something beyond what you could ever know. What does surprise you is how you feel no difference for the little one you cradle near your heart. He is still the same, sweet being you had given your heart to, and you press a kiss to his brow. 

“I’m going to lay him down,” you murmur, standing and crossing the yard to the hut. You can feel eyes on you, following your every movement, but your focus is on the child you tuck into the pram waiting inside the tent. You leave the shutters open, in case he cries or wakes up to find you, and you arrange the blanket so it keeps out any unwanted chill. 

Now with the sleeping quarters free, you take a moment to undress and change your clothes, sighing in relief at the feeling of clean, unrumpled fabric against your skin. You work the tangles out of your hair with a brush from your bag, and you splash cold water on your face from the faucet, taking care not to use too much. 

As you dry your face, you can hear a quiet, rasping voice just outside the tent.

“Kandosii,” the Mandalorian praises, and you step close to the edge of the tent by the door to listen. “Again.”

There’s a long stretch of silence, and you frown, wondering if you perhaps can’t hear as well as you think you do. When you peek around the edge of the door, you can see Venka leaning close to the Mandalorian by the fire pit, but you can’t make out anything that they’re doing. You step outside, trying to keep your feet light, but both of them look up as you approach. 

When they lean away, there is nothing you can see, save for some scratchings on the ground in the rocky sand. The rifle still rests across the Mandalorian’s knees, the barrel pointing away from the boy.

“What are you two doing?”

You kneel down beside Venka, one hand brushing the boy’s shoulder companionably. He turns his face, still round with baby fat, towards the Mandalorian who nods encouragingly to him.

Venka reaches towards you and takes your hand, and you watch him curiously as he turns your palm upward. He uses one finger and begins tapping your palm in an uneven, stilted rhythm. You blink, glancing from his blurry outline to the Mandalorian’s shadow, which looks on silently.

The tapping stops abruptly, and Venka’s hands fall to his knees, now turning back to the warrior with the eagerness of a student. The gleaming visor nods once in approval, and the boy beams.

“I…I don’t understand,” you laugh softly, curling your fingers where they still hover upwards.

“It is called Dadita,” the Mandalorian explains, standing up with a ponderous sigh and rounding the fire pit to stand beside you. He uses the pronged barrel of his rifle to begin making long dashes and shorter nicks in the earth. “Every dash and beat represents a letter in Basic Galactic. It is a code we use in battle, to disguise messages so enemies cannot decipher our intentions.”

Your furrowed brows slowly lift up with understanding, and Venka takes your hand again, quickly tapping against your palm. The look of pure joy on the little boy’s face brings tears to your eyes, watching him tap earnestly to communicate with you. To speak and to be understood after so long of having no voice

The Mandalorian takes a knee beside you, watching as the boy taps his message quickly.

“What is he saying?” you ask softly, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“‘I love my sister. We are happy.’” 

Your hand not held by the child covers your mouth, more tears falling when you close your eyes. Venka holds your hand with both of his now, looking worriedly between you and the Mandalorian, and you feel a warm, gloved hand resting on your shoulder. He nods at the little boy once, and Venka stands up and wraps his arms around your neck. You gather him close, hugging him tightly, and cup the back of his head. He seems content to be held, so you embrace him until your tears dry salty tracks on your cheeks before you kiss his mop of fluffy curls. 

“You will have to teach us all how to speak it,” you whisper, turning to face the Mandalorian. His visor bows silently in agreement, and you pet the boy’s hair back into place where you’d mussed it. “Go on, don’t-don’t worry about me.” 

Venka hesitates, glancing between you both before running off towards Kuiil where he’s welding at his workbench. You sit beside the armored warrior silently, eyes closed and breathing deeply. You feel something shift within you that you had thought was unmovable, and now you can’t imagine what to do with yourself without those surrounding you.

“Why…why didn’t you tell me about the child?” you ask, your voice half a croak from the tears clogging your throat. You feel the Mandalorian sigh even though you can’t hear it. “About what he did? What he can do?”

The Mandalorian looks down at the rocky stand you both kneel in, resting the butt of his rifle on the ground and leaning on it. He’s quiet for such a long time, you wonder if he’s going to ignore your question, but you also know for someone who speaks so rarely, he chooses his words carefully.

Finally, he whispers, “I was…afraid you would leave, if you knew.”

Whatever you were prepared for him to say, it was not this.

“What?” you breathe, eyes widening. You hear the man beneath the armor let out a deep groan, and he lets his helmet fall forward against his rifle, as if in pain. You sit forward, grabbing the lip of his helmet and pulling his visor around to face you. He tenses immediately, and you blink the tears from your lashes. “Tell me, p-please.”

He lets out a strangled, quiet noise that’s near a whimper, and his hand not holding his rifle gently wraps around your wrist. “I was afraid you would leave if you knew how dangerous it was to…to be close to him. To us.” There’s a heavy, loaded silence for a brief moment before he whispers over the strain of his leather glove that tightens around his gun, “I-I don’t think we can go back to that, Cyare. I don’t think I can.”

With the firm grip on his helmet, you draw him down to you, pressing his helmet to your forehead, and you whisper, “You will never have to.”

The Dadita lessons begin the next day, when the sun is bright in the morning without hurting your eyes. You think he must have prepared for it, as you direct Venka how to wash the dishes from breakfast when he walks back into the hut carrying the drooling infant in one arm, asking the three of you to come outside when you’re finished. 

You barely have Corde’s hair brushed before the two children are dragging you outside. The Mandalorian stands near the barn where the blurrgs are chomping upon great swaths of desert flora and vegetation, and the baby toddles after a rogue frog hopping about in the shade, giggling in its chase. 

His amban rifle rests in the crook of his arm, the barrel opened at the end where it hangs from his elbow showing plain for you and anyone else that it isn’t loaded. He uses the pronged tip of the barrel to draw in the sand the markings for every letter in Galactic Basic, only stepping away when Kuiil asks for his assistance with a task or chore. 

The code itself is not hard for you to master, but understanding it being spoken back to you is the true challenge. Venka picks it up with ease, tapping in your palm with rapid fire fluency. You huff, amusement and exasperation coloring your face as you shake your head.

“You are too clever by half for me,” you tell him, trapping his hand in yours and tickling his side. He wheezes, dancing away before coming back to you. “Alright, then, slower this time.”

Kuiil takes a break from farm work with you near the barn, watching as he eats a humble meal beside the Mandalorian of the children tapping various objects and upon different surfaces to speak to one another. At one point, Corde skips into the barn to tap through the wall, sharing secrets with her brother, and you move to sit beside the Ugnaught, your head beginning to ache from memorizing so many dashes and dots.

“Have you ever had to use this before?” you ask, folding your hands in your lap. Kuiil glances the way of the Mandalorian at your question, and you notice his fingers tapping along his cuirasse pause. “In battle or…otherwise?”

Venka runs from the wall of the barn around to the door to join his sister, ignoring your call to him not to touch anything inside.

“No.” He sounds like he’s frowning, thinking back to some memory he’d rather not bite into. “Though it would have been an advantage if I had.” 

“There are not many Mandalorians to use it with,” Kuiil says, by way of an explanation as he gathers up the small plate he was eating from. “But now you have some to speak it with.”

The Mandalorian watches the Ugnaught amble off, and you smile after him, feeling warmth from the words. When you turn back around, you find the bounty hunter kneeling beside you, and you suck in a breath of surprise at how silent and how quick he is. He doesn’t leave you room when he cups your chin with one hand and lifts the edge of his helmet to his nose, stealing a kiss as soon as you’re both alone. 

Your hands fly up to his helmet, holding the carved arches where his cheeks would be, and you can’t swallow the tiny moan that escapes you when he parts your lips beneath his. With one hand now free, he slides it to rest upon the flesh of your waist, the other drawing up your jaw to cup the back of your neck. You thought you had dreamed the sweetness you’d tasted upon the Razor Crest, and the urgency of his warm mouth leaves you floating the rest of the day.

He exploits his stealth around you more as the week passes. Stealing a kiss behind the barn or the curtain of the sleeping quarters becomes more sought after than water in the desert, always careful of his helmet or the light to protect his face. Your fingers find purchase somewhere new to titillate you-in the frothy, soft curls beneath his helm, on his slim waist beneath his cloak, even once, when the children slept in the mid-afternoon, upon the buckle of his belt to pull him closer when he crowds you behind Kuiil’s hut. 

It becomes distracting in the heat, so you busy yourself with teaching the children things to keep them from idling and to keep yourself from gazing too long at the armored bounty hunter never more than a few steps behind you. Venka becomes an accomplished tailor under your patient instruction, hemming the baby’s robe while Corde assists the Mandalorian in bathing the small child. You marvel at the tenacity the little children have, following their guardian’s shadow and watching him with all the admiration of students.

One evening, they both go out with the Mandalorian so he can teach them how to look for tracks in the desert terrain, and you help Kuiil feed the blurrgs. When they return, stained with dust and dirt and their eyes brighter than crystals, you can’t help but laugh at the tired slump in the warrior’s pauldrons. When you can’t help a giggle, he grabs you around the middle with greedy hands and wipes his dirty helmet against your forehead, smearing dirt all over your face as you shriek with laughter.

You watch him lumber away, tossing Corde over his shoulder without ceremony while she screams giggles of her own, Venka trailing after him as he heads into the hut. Watching them, you hold such a pain within your chest unlike anything else you have ever felt that it brings tears to your eyes.

How could something you have never had before become all you know?

-

Mando’a Translations:

Ner Mesh'la - My Beauty

Kandosii - “Well done.”

Cyare - Beloved

Dadita - A code used by Mandalorians, similar to Morse code.

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[nataliedanovelist]

SNEAK PEEK At the Upcoming Multi-Chapter MSA Fanfic, Back To Life.

Before the cave, before one of their friends had their life stolen by a green envious monster, before Japanese Audrey 2 tracked down our favorite glasses-wearing dog, they were just your average nerdy young-adults. See how the gang Mystery Skulls came together and what led to the events in the cave in Back To Life.

Below is a sneak peek at the first chapter! I have no idea when I will post the full first chapter, but you can believe that each chapter will be filled with references and even codes for readers to crack. I hope you all will enjoy this and I’m so excited to dive into my newest big project!

If you want to read other works from me, you can find my AO3 account here! Without another word, the preview!

~~~~~~~~~~

What if I could bring you back to life? What if I could be your guiding light? I would be your pathway, I won't let your spirit die, It’s forever, you and I...

Vivi walked a little closer to the dead grass and a little farther from the passing truck playing a loud radio, just in case the side mirror were to graze her blue sweater or the truck would swerve. A bit unnecessary, but it was huge and could squash a woman who was hardly five foot. Her dog’s collar jingled as he picked up the pace and walked closer to her, ensuring Vivi was safe, and that earned him a scratch behind the ear.

Looking down the street in the tiny town she called home, the blue nerd smiled at the brightly-painted building with a hot pepper on top, with English, Spanish, and Latin translations of the restaurant title. It was three o’clock, so most people were done with lunch, promising a quiet place to eat and read a new book.

With no No Dogs Allowed sign to be seen, Vivi took her chances that she and her pet would be welcomed and she walked in, greeted by a happy bell and childish bickering. Vivi turned her head to a far booth to find two girls fighting over a box of crayons, sisters guessing on how similar they looked. Vivi smiled and allowed the slightly jealous feeling to leave her; she had always wanted a sibling to fight with and help make life exciting.

A sign written in chalk by the door read “Please Seat Yourself,” “Tome Asiento, Por Favor,” and “Placet Discumbere,” so Vivi picked a small booth on the opposite side of the room to enjoy a bright window, placing her purse by her side and pulling a chair close for Mystery to sit in. He hopped on quietly and smiled as Vivi pulled out her new comic book and happily opened it, breathing in that crisp smell of new paper and untouched ink.

“Lost Legends.” Vivi sighed. “Can’t believe Alex practically hired fan artists to put this together, and it’s canon! Bet it’s filled with new codes.” And without another word she happily dove into the book and began reading, able to comfortably tone out the sisters fighting.

Mystery yawned and sat more comfortably in his chair, circling and sitting on all four legs with his front paws crossed, observing the near-empty restaurant curiously. He also took some delight in watching the sisters bicker over the wax art supplies; he may not have missed Vivi pulling on his ears, but he did miss having children around to play with. Mystery’s ears perked up and he watched with amusement as a young man in a damp black apron and white chef’s coat with tints of pinkurple emerged from the back and quickly shed the damp apron and hung it up to better hurry to the girls.

“Paprika, Cayenne, stop it!” And he quickly swiped up the box of crayons and ignored the girls’ whines to address the issue. “What happened?”

The slightly smaller of the two, who wore a yellow dress and had her pink and blonde hair in a high-ponytail, pointed to the slightly bigger sister with her red hair hiding her eyes, and said, “Cayenne stole my crayons!”

“Sharing is caring!”

“What if I don’t care?”

The young man snorted with bottled-up laughter and pinched his nose. “Cayenne, you’re not supposed to be coloring, you’re supposed to do your homework.”

Cayenne pouted with her arms crossed over her red-shirt-covered chest and lowered her head. “It’s stupid. It’s too hard.”

“Tell you what, let me greet this table, and I’ll help you.” The young man ruffled her red hair affectionately.

“Can I least do it in crayon?”

“I don’t see why not. Work is work, no matter what color. So Paprika, let your sister use your crayons.”

Now it was Paprika’s turn to pout, but she muttered, “Sí, hermano,” and quickly snatched up the yellow so she could finish her sun before her sister could steal what she needed.

The young man shook his head and chuckled, then went to the hostess’ booth to grab a menu, napkins, and a roll of silverware. Mystery looked at Vivi to find her eyes had averted from her comic book to the scene at some point and she closed it to give her waiter her full attention.

“Hi, sorry for the wait, señora.” He greeted and handed her the menu and placed her eating utensil on the table. “I’m Lewis, what can I get you to drink?”

Vivi swallowed as he smiled down at her genuinely and she couldn’t help but return the smile. “Hi, two waters, please.”

“Sure,” Lewis averted his eyes to the dog sitting like a good boy in a chair and asked, “Should I put one in a bowl?”

“Not necessary, thanks.” Mystery answered plainly, used to the assumption and appreciating it but he could use a straw just fine.

Lewis stared, a bit taken back to have an animal talking back, but he had watched enough anime to accept it easy enough, so he smiled and dipped his head. “Got it. Un momento, por favor.”

“Why does that always freak people out?” Mystery asked rhetorically with a roll of his eyes, enjoying the warm sunlight bathing him in the chair.

“You are of few words.” Vivi teased. “It’s always scary to hear you talk.”

Mystery snorted with a smile and looked over the menu with Vivi, both who had not eaten since breakfast so they were starving. Vivi giggled and pointed to one picture of a dish on the tacos page. “Spaghetti tacos?”

“Oh yeah,” Lewis chuckled as he walked back with the two waters, unable to help but notice the customer’s grabbed attention. “Papi invented them. Every time he makes them he sings this little song.”

“Yeah?” Vivi chuckled back.

“Yeah it goes…” Lewis took a minute to remember the words and muster up the courage to sing it, then quietly sang, “I’m cooking, I’m cooking things, cooking things that people will eat. I’m cooking, I’m cooking things…”

“Things that people will chew!” Cayenne and Paprika sang along with their brother loudly, making his cheeks turn pink.

Vivi and Mystery both laughed and the woman said, “I’ll try them, then, please!”

“And I’ll have a bowl of pozole, please.” Mystery requested.

“Spaghetti tacos and pozole, good choices.” Lewis commented as he wrote the order down on a notepad and took the menu. “Gracias, un momento, por favor.”

“Gracias.” Vivi replied and watched him put the menu in the hostess’ booth and disappear into the back to place the order.

Mystery noticed the closed book and smiled cheekily at Vivi, who was too busy in La La Land to notice.

[slunatic]

I'm here with a sneak peek/early chapter of my next fanfic. The link above will take you to the early chapter on my Patreon. Consider becoming a patron for early chapters to my work (also some exclusive stuff). I'm dipping my toe into the Hamilton fandom. This story is the first part in a three part series. I hope you like it. The chapter will be posted on Ao3 and FFN on Tuesday.

Chapter 2: Dreamlike Candlelight. Angelica and Maria manage to fall into domestic bliss, but Angelica knows it’s just a fantasy. 

Chapter 3: Set That Aside. A letter arrives that pops the little domestic bubble around the ladies.

Chapter 4: By Your Side. Angelica confronts James Reynolds. She then takes Maria to see Alexander for legal help to get James Reynolds out of their lives. 

Chapter 5: Trusting (last chapter). Angelica and Maria attend a dinner party at the Hamilton house. Angelica comes out to Peggy and she meets Maria.

Preview of untitled sequel to Be Satisfied. This is just a rough draft chapter for the sequel, but feel free to check it out and leave me suggestions on what you would like to see in the sequel. Preview:

“May I help you?” Angelica asked in a very polite tone. It took all of her self-control to keep her face from betraying her. Her expression always telegraphed her thoughts. No reason to be upset. This could be perfectly innocent.

The young woman opened her mouth to speak, but said nothing. Her brow wrinkled as her eyes fell to the floor, like she had to think of something. “I’m sorry to bother you. My name is Maria Reynolds. I was hoping to speak with Alexander Hamilton.”

“He’s not here right now,” Angelica replied. Maria twisted her fingers, like she was full of nervous energy. Angelica took a breath to keep from craning an eyebrow or giving an intense stare. “Do you need legal help?” There might be a very rational explanation for the young woman’s presence if she ever managed to get it out.

Maria glanced away, her face pinched. “I’m not sure. A friend recommended I come see Mister Hamilton.”

And there went her eyebrow. “Well, why did that friend say so?” This still seems pretty sketchy. What’s going on?

Maria took a breath. “After I mentioned my husband abandoned me.”

Possibly a divorce then. All right, Alexander, you’re safe for now. “I’m sorry to hear that. Are you looking for separation advice?” Angelica had plenty of that, especially considering the last few months of her life.

The young woman’s face scrunched up and her eyes glistened. She would look cute if she was not so distressed. The red dress she had on was at odds with her behavior, though. It screamed seduction. Something did not add up here, which pulled Angelica in. Time to learn more.

“My name is Angelica Schuyler. Maybe I can help. I don’t practice divorce law.” Neither did Alexander, but that did not seem important right now. “But, maybe some advice. You can step inside if you want and tell me more of your predicament.” Now, there was an option to leave and save face or travel further down the rabbit hole.

Maria messed with her fingers a little more and braved a whole new world by stepping into the townhouse. Curiouser and curiouser. Maria looked around the foyer and beyond, awe written on her face as Angelica closed the door behind her.

“So, if this isn’t about a divorce, what is it about?” Angelica asked. It could not be about a divorce if Maria came in. Angelica let her know she did not practice divorce law and Alexander was not there.

Maria turned to Angelica and she could see the wheels spinning. Maybe she was making up a story or maybe she did not know where to begin. Angelica would listen to the story before she judged, but her instincts and warning bells were all going off.

“I’m sorry to bother you with this,” Maria said and Angelica half-expected her to run from the entry. Instead, she continued. “My friend said Alexander Hamilton was a man of honor and I didn’t mean to come to his home, but I didn’t know where else to go. I just didn’t know what else to do. I don’t have anything since my husband left. Not that he was a great guy in the first place. He’s always mistreated me. He’s even beaten me. He might be off with another woman and he took all of my money. I don’t have anything.”

Angelica could not see why this would bring her to Alexander’s door. She did not have to be top of her class to know this was a scheme. “I’m sorry to hear that. Are you sure you don’t want a divorce?” That was honestly the only decent explanation for the visit and Maria refused to grasp at the lifeline Angelica kept throwing her. Looked like she would rather dig the hole.

Maria shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t even know how I’m going to make rent without him. Or even how I’m going to eat in the next few days.”

Again, what does any of this have to do with being at Alexander’s house late at night? Angelica had to find out. “Well, I could give you some money.” That seemed to be the goal, but why did she pick Alexander for this? She claimed she did not know him, but was comfortable enough with possibly asking him for money? I might still have to curse him out, if not for having seductresses show up in the middle of the night than obviously for handing out money too freely where any person with working knowledge of his home could come and ask for some.

Her eyes sparkled. “Are you sure? I’ll pay you back!”

“I’m sure you will.” She highly doubted it, but that would probably put an end to whatever this was. “Let me go get it.” There had to be some cash lying around. She would pay Alexander and Eliza back. “Don’t move.”

Maria held her hands up. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Angelica stepped away in search of cash. It took no time. Eliza hid money in the same spots all the time, even when she was younger. She returned to Maria exactly where she left her. Angelica handed her roughly seven hundred dollars.

“Should I call you a car?” Angelica asked. Again, whatever helped end all of this sooner. She had to assume with money in hand Maria was ready to get out here and she could give Alexander a call to ask him about whatever this was.

Maria shook her head as she clutched the bills tightly in her fist. “No, I just live a block away.”

“Really?” And there went Angelica’s eyebrow, arched all the way up. That could explain her turning up at Alexander’s door at such an odd hour. She might have been watching Alexander and knew he had money. It was still strange and could be a lie. Well, now I want to know more, damn it. “Then let me walk you home.”

[abaikgirl]

Preview of chapter 8 of Shadows. I love the idea of OfA Ochako interning with Nighteye because she does fit his image of what a symbol of peace should be, so this scene was a little self indulgent what am i talking about this entire fic is self indulgent anyways get it below!

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

After helping Sir Nighteye during the siege, he had become very impressed with not only Ochako’s bright personality, but also her strength and speed. She’d had One for All for half the time as Katsuki and already had great control over it. So naturally, Sir Nighteye was eager to have her work for him as an intern.

She arrived on time, practically glowing with enthusiasm. “Uravity here, reporting for duty.”

He gave her a gentle smile and stood up from his desk. “So nice to see you again, Uravity.”

She looked around. “I didn’t see Knowbody when I came in. Is she going to be working with us too?”

“She is running down some new leads with Bubble Girl and will not be joining us today. Eraserhead is also working hard on the case, but he may be by later.”

“Oh.” She gave him a smile. “Those two are a pretty good team, Knowbody and Eraserhead, if they’re taking on such an important case.”

“They are quite the team. Being able to work with other agencies is an important skill for any hero.” He folded his arms behind his back. “We, however, will be focusing on some other skills today and will be going on patrols.”

“Yes sir, Sir!” she replied with a mock salute.

He let out a soft laugh. “Well then, go get changed into your hero costume and I will meet you downstairs.”

Ochako was beaming when she met up with him. He noticed the arm guards were different. “Have you made upgrades to your costume, Uravity?”

“Yes.” She held them up. “Since it’s hard to control which direction I float in, I asked the support department to add these cables. I got the idea from Knowbody’s harness.”

“A very sensible addition.”

The patrol was fairly routine. Nighteye had almost called off Ochako coming to the agency after the incident with Dabi, but he decided to go forward with it anyway. Now more than ever he needed to cultivate the new symbol of peace. Well, one of them at least. But he trusted Mirio to do his part to help Katsuki be not so rough around the edges. Nighteye had trained him after all.

Now that the League of Villains was gone, the city had begun to heal and people were happy to see heroes patrolling the streets again. Ochako smiled and acknowledged the people they passed. The way she was so effortlessly optimistic reminded him of All Might.

“How are your studies?” he asked. “Your class has experienced a difficult year. It can’t be easy to maintain your grades.”

“Oh, I’ve been doing alright,” she assured him. “Kacchan’s been helping me with the things I don’t understand. He doesn’t look it, but he’s a pretty good tutor.” She glanced up at him. “We’ve been watching the news coverage of Todoroki-kun’s trial. Do you think they’ll really execute him?”

“Are you asking if I’ve seen his future?”

She back peddled. “Well, not exactly, but if you have maybe it would put my mind at ease knowing everything is going to be ok.”

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The full chapter posts on Ao3 Saturday. Check the link tree in my description to start at part 1 of my Villain Deku AU

[valleydean]

What advice would a big blog such as yourself give to a relatively unknown fic author for getting their fics read by more people in the fandom? Are there any secrets you can share for things like tagging, posting times, etc?

well, first of all, thank you!! i don’t know if i’m really that big of a blog so you may be misguided lmao. i’ve just been on this website for like - a decade. so don’t let that confuse you lmaoo. but anyway!

the advice i’d really have to you is like..... just be super annoying. i will admit to you right here in front of god and everyone on tumblr dot com, the ONLY reason ANYONE has ever read any of my fics is because i wore them down. like, i am ANNOYING. i am constantly reblogging my own posts about my fics. i’m reblogging the same shit 5 times a day for 3 weeks straight and not even blinking. no shame in the game. make a graphic (for example) or a gifset (for example) for your fic! make 5! who gives a shit! and tag people - even if it’s just a couple friends at first (they won’t mind, don’t worry) and then put a note on the posts after your tag list telling people to let you know if they wanna be tagged. i mean, fuck, tag ME! i am giving you permission to tag me. (and then IM me about it because i’m old and i never check my @’s nor do i know how to check them lmao)

and for bigger fics, i’ll like - make a spotify playlist and post that on here. or i’ll make a tag on my blog for it and reblog like - aesthetic posts or quotes or stuff that have the same themes. and i’ll like - post screencaps of excerpts from my word docs to give as previews. i’ll just make random posts about my progress or lack thereof. i’ll just like..... never stop talking about it. hahah

but like - yeah, be annoying. do the Most(TM). hype your fic up SO MUCH that people will either be like “omg fine i’ll read it if you shut up” or “oh that looks dope i’ll check it out.” both reactions are VALID!

and this may be obvious if you’re not me, but i used to post every chapter of my fics at once. but then a little while ago i was like - i’m gonna post a chapter a week and see how it goes. and i like it a lot better. (i usually post one every sunday. it’s best to keep it the same day every week, i’ve found.) i feel like that generates more traffic. i also make a post like this for each chapter, so that may be why i’m getting more traffic. (again, back to my first point, be annoying.)

i usually tag those tumblr posts with: deancas, destiel, deancas fic, destiel fic, spn, supernatural, spn fic (and if there’s an edit involved, i’ll tag deancasedit and destieledit too). idk how many people are actually looking at those tags but.... it can’t hurt!

for smaller fics, i’ll usually just do a simple banner on the posts instead of a full edit banner - but i’ve noticed that fics with any sort of banner whatsoever usually tend to catch people’s eyes. so, i’d recommend doing that even if it’s just the title of the fic.

for one-offs, i’ll just do a header like on this one. i set that up with:

Title Pairing, word count Summary Link to AO3 if i posted it there too

but you can obviously set it up whatever way you want.

and yeah, i mean.... i don’t really know if there’s an exact science. i know it’s super discouraging right now because there’s a trend of people not reblogging things on here and just liking them, and putting kudos on ao3 but not commenting. and it’s really disheartening because it makes you want to stop altogether. but like, just because people aren’t interacting with your fic, doesn’t mean they aren’t reading it. there are a lot of silent readers out there. i wish they would speak up, but unfortunately they don’t.

i’m not sure if any of that is usable advice! but i hope it helped a little. but yeah, try not to get discouraged. keep at it. and like.... please do remember that, no matter what, you’re doing this for the love of it. you’re doing this for YOU. and i know you want to share that with as many people as you can. you should want to share it with people. but, at the end of the day, none of us are getting paid. so feel free to write as much or as little as you want. feel free to promote yourself as much or as little as you want. just keep at it and keep doing what you love and hopefully people will see your passion, and the rest will follow.

[human-trash-fire]

Shot Through The Heart: CH4

I couldn’t wait to share the next chapter, so you beautiful humans are getting it early! As always mad shout-outs to everyone who is following along/ RB/ liking this fic <3 I can’t tell you all how fucking grateful I am for all of you. 

special thanks to @highqueenofelfhame​ for previewing the fic and making me feel like it’s worth it to write!

As always the fic is available in its entirety on ao3 glam_reaper2

** IMPORTANT NOTE: The header image is 100% what Rowan imagines when she takes a shot even though it definitely didn’t go down that way.**

******************************************************************************** Aelin:

Two weeks had come and gone since she had hauled the giant box full of goodies to the post office. Fenrys told her that mail was always delayed but that he was both excited and grateful they had sent them something. She made him promise two things: one, he wouldn’t tell the rest of the cadre that a package was coming. Aelin knew that they mentioned sending the boys something, but she didn’t want them to know when. And two, they had to open their care packages ‘Yulemas style’ all sitting around, on Skype, so Lys, Elide and her could watch their faces/ get a chance to finally talk to them face to face. 

During those two weeks they continued their flirty conversation when he wasn’t on mission and away from his phone. She woke up nearly every morning to a text, and fell asleep texting him each night. After the first few days they had moved their conversation off twitter, they iMessaged back and forth and had exchanged Snapchat information so they could send each-other little videos and such. Talking to Fenrys was comfortable. He found a way to brighten almost any situation, and she found that anytime she was irritated recently he could always cheer her up. She kept most of her past private, and though he volunteered more intimate details of his life he never pushed her to share hers. It was nice, if she was being honest, even if this went absolutely no where she was so glad to have met him.

Fenrys told her stories about his friends too, Aelin got the impression that he was kind of like their glue. He was the youngest at 27 (apparently Connall was born 3 minutes earlier and had lorded that fact over him for as long as he could remember). Vaughn and Gavriel were both 28, Rowan was 29, and Lorcan (Elide’s new project) was 30. He and Connall had enlisted when they were 18, they attended training in Perranth and ended up qualifying for special forces at an unheard of 19. That’s when they met the others, the Cadre. Aelin laughed so hard when she found out that’s what they’re known as in the military world, she had thought she was just being cheeky when she’d called them so in their video. That’s also how Connall had met Vaughn. Apparently, he spent 4 years pining after him. 

>> So how did they end up together?

 << It was so obvious they were into each other but too ‘bro’ to say anything. Worried about “team dynamic” or whatever, because Gods know we didn’t give a shit if they’re together. Then one day we’re taking shots at a bar, Con is talking to some dude, I think he was honestly trying to get over his feelings. Vaughn sees this and gets mad jealous, slams a double shot of Johnny Walker, mutters ‘fuck it’ and storms right up to them. He grabs other dude by the shoulder, shoved him out of the way, and right as Con was about to say something he kissed him. We cheered, we all got entirely too drunk, and now here we are! It’s been 4 years and I’m so happy for them.

>> That’s fucking amazing, and honestly romantic! <3

The Cadre as it stood now had been the most elite team for 8 years, running blackops around the world. And tonight was the night she and the girls would get to talk to them for the first time. Aelin was so excited she could barely contain it, there was nothing more fulfilling than giving someone a gift in her opinion.

*********************************************************

Rowan:

They finally had some down time. Command had promised them 2 days, which was more time than Rowan had expected. They’d been running themselves ragged ever since they discovered Maeve was in country. There was talk about an intel operative gathering more information on her plan, but so far they hadn’t gotten the call Rowan had waited 5 years for. He wanted a green light. He wanted her dead. He was stuck waiting on orders, and had spent 2 weeks seething while they ran, in his opinion, bullshit missions up and down the sector. 

It had also been two weeks since Rowan had woken up to two instagram notifications. He had, in all honesty, forgotten he had the app. Work was his life, and he was never big on social media, but there they were. It was 0330 and he reached over, seeing the notifications he clicked and his jaw hit the floor. Aelin Galathynius had not only followed him but liked one of his pictures… The oldest picture there. What the fuck? He thought as he stared at her name right below the picture. This has to be an accident, but why would she be looking this far back? He didn’t really know how to feel about it. She was stunning, she was famous, and she was Fen’s date. She shouldn’t be liking his shit on instagram. She should even know who he was. 

He clicked her name.

There were hundreds of pictures, her with her friend’s, her with her dog, her with nearly every famous young person in Orynth. There were red carpet photos and vacation photos, little videos from different movie sets and links to fundraisers for various social causes. He didn’t realize he’d been scrolling through them for so long until Fenrys yelled at him for sleeping in. He quickly shut down the app and hurried off.

For the next two weeks he found himself going back to her instagram more that any healthy person should. There was something about her eyes, there had always been something about her eyes, since the first time he saw her on screen. They swallowed him whole, it was like drowning in an ocean of fire and- what the hell is wrong with you? Get your shit together Whitethorn. He chided himself. His mind was all over the damn place. Fenrys, as expected, hadn’t kept to his “no talking about her ever again” end of the bargain. Being his spotter he was with him nearly 18 hours a day, the boy never shut up. Apparently they hadn’t stopped talking, and Rowan caught him sending stupid snapchats or typing furiously with a shit-eating grin on his face nearly ever moment they were back with their phones. Everytime his face lit up, or he said something like “Aelin was saying…” he found himself clenching his jaw. He had no idea why, he was happy for Fen, this was his dream come true. 

Rowans jaw hurt.

*********************************

“Wash up boys, and try to look presentable, meet me in the office at 1700. Don’t fucking be late,” Fenrys said to them after training. It may be down time, but they all still met at the base gym for a few hours of PT in the afternoon.

“What the hell for?” Lorcan grumbled. Fenrys just winked and sauntered towards the showers.

1655 on the dot Rowan walked into the office, followed by Connall and Vaughn. The others were already there, Lorcan and Gavriel looking just as confused as he felt, and Fenrys with that insufferable grin plastered on his face. He had showered, brushed his hair, and put on possibly the tightest shirt he owned with a pair of black joggers. Rowan caught his eye and lifted a brow.

“Alright you grumpy bastards, grab a chair and come here,” Fenrys instructed while pointing towards the projector they used for movie nights. It had a camera attached to the top for more official calls with command, and they often used it to Skype their families back home. Skype was pulled up now, and they all found their seats in front of the screen. Rowan sitting towards the center chair that was left open for Fen. Vaughn and Connall had taken the two to his right while Lorcan and Gavriel brought up the other end. 

Fen was dragging a giant box out from beneath his desk when the familiar ringing began to echo through the room. He immediately dropped it in front of his chair and scrambled to answer the call. “Hello gorgeous,” he purred as the image on the screen in front of them came into focus. Once again, the cadre was floored. 

“Hello handsome,” Aelin winked. “Gentleman” she nodded to them all and stepped back. Alongside her sat Elide and Lysandra, smiling and waving at the screen. The men sat up a little straighter, and awkwardly waved back.

“Is it ready?” Aelin practically squealed.

“Yeah! Should I open it?” Fenrys asked, and Rowans attention shot back to the moving box in front of their chairs. No way, he thought. They had mentioned the possibility of sending them something but he didn’t honestly believe it would happen. Agreeing to come to the ball was already unbelievable, but a care package? The box was so big it easily could have fit a body. 

“One second. Okay so Hi, I’m Aelin, obviously, and these are my girls.” She gestured beside her. “It’s so nice to officially get to talk to you all! We’ve heard so much about you from Fen.”

Fen, she says. Like they’re close. Rowan’s jaw clenched again. He shook his head and crossed his arms, then uncrossed them because he realized he probably looked rude. He didn’t know what to do with his hands and was so busy trying to look nonchalant he was startled when he heard his name.

“Whitethorn!” Fen yelled, it clearly wasn’t the first time he’d called for him. “Say hello to the women and try and remember your manners.”

“Oh,” he cleared his throat. “Hey... I’m Rowan.”

“We know,” Aelin smiled, and Rowan was momentarily stupid.

“Okay, as much fun as official introductions are, Fen can you open the box? Inside it are smaller boxes with each of your names. Enjoy!” Aelin chimed. As Fenrys ripped open the box Elide and Lysandra started asking each of them questions. At the same time Aelin reached past the camera to grab 3 shot glasses and a bottle of Johnny Walker. Jealous Rowan thought. That was his favorite drink. Of course she would drink it, she looks like that, and shoots whiskey. Gods have mercy...

Fenrys passed him a large box, and when they each held their own he spoke again. “This is like Yulemas Ace, thank  you! Can we just tear them open or do we go one at a time?” Ace? How adorable. Rowan’s eyes found Aelin’s again, and it felt like she was looking at him, but it was a giant screen and that was nonsense.

“Oh, tear in! Fen told us a little about each of you so we tried to go with things you might like. I hope we guessed right!” Aelin’s smile was like the sun, as he looked down to begin opening the package on his lap Rowan felt a rare smile grace his own lips in response. With a loud cracking noise 6 boxes popped open, and the room was filled with “NO WAY”s and “ THANK YOU”s as the cadre tore through their gifts. 

On the top of each box was an Orynth Bane Jersey, they were all Ashryver jerseys (obviously) and stitched in the pro style. As he unfurled his he realised that the entire team had signed the jerseys for each of the men. He began shaking his head, this was already more than they could have ever asked for.

“The boys wanted to say thank you as well! Aideon and Ren got you all, and us, some front row, 50 yard line-” At that Elide made an unladylike snort, Aelin choked, and Lysandra glared. The Cadre was clearly missing something. Aelin cleared her throat in an attempt to recover, “50 yardline tickets. Whole VIP experience for the Adarlan game in November!” She finished, and that statement was met with cheers from all of them. The Bane was their favorite team, and while they had seen a couple games they never could have dreamt of what she was talking. Granted her cousin was the starting QB and “Ren” was his best running-back. This is insane he thought.

With the jersey, and tickets out of the way Rowan looked back into the box. Sitting right there was a bottle of Johnny Walker black label, 3 expensive cigars, a cutter, a lighter, and a shot glass that read “SSG Whitethorn reporting for Booty.” He didn’t know when he had started giggling like a school boy, but he was entirely sure he looked like an idiot. 

He looked up with his shot glass in hand, and stared at the screen. The others still had their heads in their boxes, but he was looking at her. “Classic,” he wiggled the shot glass “Thank you so much Aelin.” She smiled a soft smile, and nodded. 

He glanced around and saw his friends had all received a bottle of their favorite liquor as well, Connall and Vaughn were already lighting a cigar each while digging through the rest of their boxes. The smoke was sweet, and the room smelled of vanilla and burnt sugar. The girls were currently taking shots on skype and clapping when something new was unveiled or explaining why they included certain random things.

“Salvaterre!” Elide shouted. The tiny woman’s cheeks had begun to flush, she was clearly feeling the shots she had taken so far. Lorcan’s head shot up and she giggled, he sat up a little straighter, and she leaned into the camera. “There’s something a little special in there for you, you’ll know it when you see it. That’s from me. You’re welcome.” She winked and Rowan swore his friend blushed. The rest of the men had seen it too because everyone began laughing, and he made a note to try and figure out what exactly she’d sent that made him act that way. 

The next thing he unpacked was a pair of super lush running shoes, Fenrys clearly had given all their shoe sizes to the women because he was holding a $200 pair of black sneakers. It was beyond too much but Aelin looked so excited when they all started trying them on, the desert ruined your shoes. The last items in the box were something else entirely. A small stuffed hawk sat in one corner, it wore a nametag: Buzzard. He raised it and an eyebrow to the screen and Aelin started laughing. “Buzzard?” he asked.

“Indeed sir. Can’t tell you why though, it’s a secret.” She slammed a shot back “You each got a little stuffed animal to keep you company on the long nights. Since you can’t have puppies in the desert apparently.” He shook his head laughing, this girl was too much. Next to where the Hawk had been laying was a wrapped package. He lifted it up and was about to tear it open when she half screamed, “WAIT! Okay so, wait. This is my favorite gift.” She had everyone’s attention now turned to him. Fenrys was laughing, apparently he knew what came next.

“Oooookayyyyyy.. I’m a little nervous,” Rowan admitted. He didn’t like the spotlight on him like this.

“Well here’s the thing, as you can see everyone got their favorite sweets,” she made a sweeping motion at the camera. “Candy is an important food group, but Fen said you don’t like sugar or something. Which by the way is blasphemous. Anyways, I asked what your favorite food was and he said-”

“MEAT ON A STICK!” The entire cadre chorused, along with all three women on screen. They were all laughing like it was the funniest thing they had ever heard. 

“But I couldn’t send you a kabob, so I figured this would be the next best thing!!”

He tore open the package in his hands. Sitting there were 8 bags of beef jerky and a packet of skewers. He started laughing  so hard, tears were streaming down his face, “Thank you!” he croaked between fits of laughter. 

After the gifts were all opened, cigars were lit and shots were poured. The group drank and laughed for hours. At one point the girls started playing music on their end, and the Rowan found himself singing along with everyone to Bohemian Rhapsody and watching Aelin dance on her kitchen table. It was the lightest he’d felt in years. Lorcan and Elide had exchanged numbers and he could see the girl texting him from the screen. Connall and Vaughn were in the corner in matching jerseys kissing and dancing to the music on the speakers.

They eventually said their goodnight’s, and another round of heartfelt thank you’s. As Rowan half stumbled into his bed he found himself still smiling and holding the small stuffed Hawk that smelled of lavender and embers.

***************************************************************

TAG LIST <3

@http-itsrebecca​ 

@highqueenofelfhame​

@feyrethedarklady​

@someonemagical​

@thebitchupstairs​

@over300books​

@starseternalnighttriumphant​ 

@musicmaam​

@blueeyes425​

@clockworkgraystairs​

@nalgenewhore​

@illyrianbeauty​

@dazzlinghazee​

@randomtogacotar22​

@westofmoon​

@forest-magic6​

@nerdyclementine

@la7sorcellerie​

@yikesitsmaddie​

@tswaney17​

@fourshizzle149​

[rnmbb]

Frequently Asked Questions

What is a big bang?

A Big Bang/Mini-Bang is a writing challenge that prompts authors and artists to work together to create a story and work of art that go together. In this case, our fandom is the Roswell New Mexico tv show, and our goal is 5000 words or more!

How do I sign up?

When sign-ups start, there will be a Google Form link posted for you to sign-up as an Author or an Artist or Beta

What if I need to drop out?

Yes! Sometimes life gets in the way or a story just doesn’t happen, and we understand that! However, there is a cutoff point, and if you do not let the mods know before this date, you can be banned from the next round. Even if it is after this cutoff date that you need to drop out please let us know so that we can discuss options. We can’t help if we don’t know there is a problem! Dropping all contact with mods after the cutoff date is grounds for an automatic ban, as we can’t help at that point. Please get in contact with us, so that we can arrange for art if needed!

I need help/support!

Once you sign-up, you will be sent a link to the Discord Server for the Big Bang. Feel free to talk about your story here with other authors, ask questions, look for a beta, ask for advice, freak out, or any general story discussions.

Membership is open to all who want to join the big bang or are thinking about it! Watch the blog for the link post

I don’t want to join a discord server/have never used discord before 

We are making this a mandatory requirement this year. Communication is critical for the big bang to be successful, and a discord server is the best way for mods to ensure they can communicate with all participants. If you’re new to discord, the mods will help you with an introduction and navigation resources to the server. 

Writing Requirements

What type of requirements are there for a fic?

Your fic must be at least 5,000 words long and, preferably, beta-read before the posting date. It must focus on or revolve around the characters from the TV show Roswell, New Mexico. You are not required to write a certain ship or a ship at all. Your fic also has to be completed at the time of posting. All chapters must be posted on the day of posting. 

I've already been writing an RNM story - can I use that?

The purpose of this Bang is to unveil a brand-new, completed piece on your posting date, however we are okay with you finishing your piece as long as you have not posted more than 2,000 words and do not post any more until your posting date. Since this Bang has a minimum word count of 5,000 words we are asking that no more than 2,000 words be posted prior to signing up, so that at least 80% of the fic is new.

Can I write a sequel to a previous story?

Yes, but the sequel needs to be able to stand on its own. Please make sure to link to the first story so readers can read that as well.

I want to gift my big bang to someone, can I? 

Big Bangs are not gift stories or exchanges, so your big bang must stand as itself. 

What genres are allowed?

All genres are allowed as well as crossovers, as long as Roswell New Mexico characters are the main characters of the story.

I've got two ideas in my head - can I write both?

Yes, you can, as long as you think you'll be able to finish both stories by the deadline (if you submit two stories we will do our best to make sure there is a good amount of time in between the posting of each fic).

Can I write the story with someone else?

Yes, you may co-author your big bang if you want to. The word minimum however for co-authored works is 7,000.

What an artist summary? 

An artist summary is written by authors to give a summary of the fic in a holistic manner. It will include all the main ships, main plot twists, trigger warnings, and any relevant tags for the artist to make an educated choice on making art for the work. The artist summaries are anonymous and only 500 words or less. 

What should my outline look like?

A fic outline is an overview of your story. You will need to list major scenes of the story all the way from the beginning to the resolution. The outline needs to show how you plan on finish the story so the mods and artists can anticipate the story.

Can I have an extension?

We will be granting extensions on a case-by-case basis for rough drafts as long as your final fic or art is in by the due date. We would hope, however, that you use the checkpoints and all your available writing time to its fullest.

If you think at any time you need an extension (whether fic or art) contact the mods right away so we can begin working it out with you.

What do I do if I am not sure I will finish my story but still want to try?

If, by the time rough drafts are due, you aren't sure if you will be done with your story and don't want to risk having an artist claim it only to have to drop out you can switch to the Unofficial track. This will mean your story won't be put in the claims post but if you can finish it by the time final drafts are due we will arrange an artist for you and you will post with everyone else.

Artist Requirements

What are the requirements for art?

Each story an artist claims is required to have at least one art of quality for each story they claim. If an artist decides to claim 3 stories, they will be required to create one piece of art for each story, so at minimum, 3 pieces of art. 

You’re creating something for a work that is at least 5k/10k in length, so we want the art to match that effort! Here are the suggested guidelines:

Traditional/Digital art: Cleaned lineart, on unlined paper, that is at least 500x500 pixels is the minimum. Additional sketchier/rougher pieces are welcomed so long as one piece of art is at the cleaned lineart stage!

Manips: Clean renders and non-blurry images that do not contain watermarks should be used for photo manipulation. 

Banners or Icons or Wallpaper: 5 icons, of at least 100x100 pixels. 3 banners. 1 wallpaper. More is of course always welcomed!

Picspam or Gifsets: At least 6 images, but more images, or multiple sets are welcome!

Vids: At least two minutes long, or a full song!

Fanmixes: At least 10 songs and include cover art (this can be a manip!).

What is an Art Claim? 

Art claims is the process through which artists and authors are paired for the big bang. Artists will have 3 days to review summary information provided by all the authors participating in the event. The claims process is anonymous, which means the artists have no idea who wrote which fic. On claims day, artists submit their top 5 choices and are matched with their first available fic. When matches are confirmed, the mods will email each team to introduce partners to each other. 

How do I make a claim?

On claims day, artists will receive a form to submit their choices. 

What happens if the number of authors doesn't match up with the number of artists or mixers?

We will do several rounds of claiming so that EVERY fic has an artist. In the event that fics outnumber artists, we will allow artists to make a second claim. If it's the other way, we may open up the fics so that more than one artist is assigned to the same fic. Either way, everyone who wants to participate will get to participate.

Can I post my art to my blog or another site to show my friends in advance?

No, we ask that you don't preview your art to anyone before the assigned posting date. You are allowed to show it to a few friends or an art beta, to get advice or feedback before the posting date, but please don't post it for the general public until your assigned posting date.

Where can I upload my graphics?

You are free to post your graphics on your platform of choice, as long as there is a link to the art in the fic.

How will I get my graphics to my author?

We will provide you with contact information once you are committed to an author. From there you can contact them to find out more about their interests, or simply send them the links to your final mix/gifsets/art.

We would like to encourage you to be in contact with them and to share what you make for them.

Schedule

What's a check-in?

Check-ins are something to give you a feel on where a typical author should be at in their writing process. There are multiple points of communication with the mods team to share your progress, ask questions, and share any comments you need to.

ALL CHECK-INS ARE MANDATORY! This is the best way for mods to track the progress of works and ensure works will be posted on time.

Why do artists get a check-in?

The artist check-in will be mandatory. This is mostly to make sure that artists have been in contact with their authors and that they are on track. It will help us determine which stories will need pinch hitters earlier.

Posting Requirements

What types of requirements are there for me to post my fic?

You must include a header with all the regular information (title, rating, wordcount, pairing, etc.) on it. This includes warnings. Not all of our readers like the same thing, so you are required to warn them. Besides that, you must include any secondary fandom you're writing in.

Do I post my story to this community or do the mods post it?

Anywhere you wish, so long as it is also in the RNM Big Bang AO3 Collection. Posting it there is how we will count your work as completed*.

*Artists will not be required to post to AO3, though it is highly encouraged. (AO3 isn’t great for hosting some types of art, like picspam or gif sets, we understand that!) If you are not posting your art to AO3, you must make sure the link to where you art is posted is provided to the author and linked within the author notes or story.

Can I post it to my blog a few days early to show my friends?

No, the first time you show your fic for this big bang must be on your reveal day. If you post in advance please lock the post for your eyes only.

If you have any other questions, please reach out to the mods team!

[kakuhidaweek]

GUIDELINES

     What it is: a week celebrating Kakuzu/Hidan.  

     Who can join: Absolutely everyone!

     When is it: October 24th - 31st, 2021 !

     What you can make: fanart, fanfic, edits, gifsets, and more - anything focusing on the above ship.

     Not allowed: Reposting someone else’s content without permission. 

     How to post: Upload your content onto Tumblr, mentioning @kakuhidaweek​ in the body of the post, and #kakuhidaweek2021 in the tags. Fics must be cut for length WITH applicable content warnings in the body of the post.

     Tags: KakuHidaWeek2021, KakuHida, HidaKaku, Kakuzu, Hidan, Akatsuki, plus any applicable characters and background pairings.

DO NOT TAG BLOOD. This will prevent your work from showing up in the tags! 

Tag body horror, violence, or gore instead.

FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS:

    How do I participate off-Tumblr?

Upload your content in a site of your choosing. Then, submit your link here, WITH applicable previews, summaries, content warnings, and excerpts, etc.

Alternatively, if you’re posting on AO3, you can post the link/summary/excerpt yourself, then mention @kakuhidaweek and tag #kakuhidaweek2022. 

   I heard there was a twitter?

Yes! This year, we have a KakuHida Week twitter account now modded by G-P. If you’d like to participate on twitter, please follow @kakuhidaweek for updates! 

If you post on twitter, we will ask that you mention that account, plus tag #kakuhidaweek2021. If your work is N.S.F.W., also tag #nsfw.

     Is N.S.F.W. allowed on the Tumblr event?

Yes! However, as this event is open to everyone, and not everyone can or wants to see mature things on their dash, all explicit content MUST:

- be properly tagged with warnings/triggers.

- be put under a cut (writing).

- be cropped sensibly (art).

(N.S.F.W. art info below).

If you post something in violation of these rules, we will ask you to fix it prior to reblogging it :))

   How can we post explicit art with Tumblr’s New Guidelines?

Artists should be aware that N.S.F.W. works may be flagged for sensitive content, and plan accordingly. Currently, we suggest posting a cropped version of your work on Tumblr, and linking to the full version in your post.

An example of how you can post explicit work is provided here.

     Can I include other pairings / characters besides Kakuzu and Hidan?

Sure! So long as Kakuzu and Hidan are the focus of your content, and it fills one of the daily prompts, go nuts! Go wild!

     Can I recycle something I’ve already posted for this event?

At this time, we will not reblog content that has been posted before the week starts. This is because it is unfair to other content creators who have made something exclusively for the event.

That said, if you have NEW, UNSEEN content for a previously existing series (like a chapter or sequel), you may use it for this event, so long as it fills one of the daily prompts.

    What Kakuzu and Hidan portrayals are allowed?

All depictions of our favorite zombies are welcome! The same applies for all the other Naruto characters that may feature.

However, harassing other content creators over their work will result in automatic blocking from participation. This includes disrespectful comments / tags on fills.

     Is platonic Kakuzu and Hidan also acceptable?

Of course! Platonic love is just as valid as romantic or hate ships or PWP ;)

Ship bashing, however, is not allowed. 

    Do we have to do both prompts per day?

You can if you want - it’s not required, but it would be pretty amazing!

    Do I have to do something for every day of the event?

If you want and you’re inspired!

    Is there a minimum word count?

No, there isn’t! 100 words are as good as 100,000 words!

    Are late submissions allowed?

We will reblog rule-compliant late submissions up to three weeks after the event. Exact dates TBD!

Navigation:

ABOUT ♡ 

♡    GUIDELINES & FAQS (here)   ♡

           2022 PROMPT SUBMISSIONS (8/1 ~ 8/10)

           2021 PROMPTS

           2020 PROMPTS

           2019 PROMPTS 

[slytherin-goddess214]

The Paths We Take: Chapter 15- The Price of a Prayer- Up Now :)

Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger, Blaise Zabini/Ginny Weasley

Synopsis: When a simple bet during a year end field trip to a muggle museum goes terribly wrong, four students find themselves unwillingly thrown through time by an ancient amulet. Can they work together long enough to survive the multiple time periods, or will they fall victim to the horrors of the past and remain there…forever?

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13377295/15/The-Paths-We-Take

No preview this time because I am going to play an interactive game for the remainder of the eras in this story. Rules are posted at the end of the chapter but I will post them here too. They are as followed:

1- Everyone will get a chance to guess! ONE GUESS PER PERSON! When a clue appears at the end of a chapter, guiding the group into the next location, PM me your guess (if you are on a site that does not have PM, please put your guess in an email. If it is in a review, I feel like that’s cheating and gives your answer away so unfortunately, review answers will not be accepted. My email is on my profile on the fic site. Not yet on AO3 so PM me if you are on that site.) Those without an account, are required to email me your guess. Do not put it in a review. I am TRUSTING all people emailing to not cheat and use multiple emails to send multiple guesses. If I find out you have, that is grounds for immediate disqualification. You will only receive a response that I have gotten your guess marked down, but nothing else unless you have won. Reason being that I feel a lot of you will message me and I don’t want to overwhelm myself by trying to reply to everyone like I do with reviews.

2- The answers I am searching for is NOT what you have done with Gettysburg and you will receive more than just a shout out. (Guests must provide a name of some sort for credit) If you know the era and want to play, the answer I am looking for from you, is a date. Month and Year, you believe the period will start in. Each location and timestamp have already been created so there is no cheating. As an example: (we’ll use Gettysburg for this) “I believe July 1863”, is how the answer should be displayed. BOTH ARE NEEDED TO WIN AND BOTH NEED TO BE CORRECT. I am not looking for a full date, again JUST the month and the year. It will all make sense when the next era comes into play. Also please DO NOT post your review in the message with your answer. Reviews should be kept separate and on the story itself.

3- The Top Five on point, or closest to when I am starting the era, guesses, will get to create a Characters’ name, age, the way they look, their year at Hogwarts/career/job/reason for being alive basically, and possibly their personality if I think it will work in the fic. My beta and I will judge all guesses and chose the closest answers. You will be notified by PM, or email, before the next chapter is posted. Your Character will then be placed somewhere throughout the era/present timeline and you will also be given a shout out when the person is going to appear. You will have only 2 days from being contacted as a winner, to provide your Character description. If you do not respond, another will be chosen in your place.

4- Winners, I am asking you to please give serious Characters that will fit the timeline. In other words, no blue hair with purple eyes for a man named Bobthena unless the year is like 2019 (which it won’t be). If I receive anything crazy like that, you will be disqualified, and a new winner will be chosen in your place.

5- Last rule and this is important as I have to have time to plan and place the Character into the story. Guesses will only be accepted up to 3 days from day the clue is given, including the Sunday the chapter is posted. So, you have until 11:59pm Tuesday, Eastern Time in the US and Canada, to submit your guesses. Winners will then be chosen the following Wednesday, possibly into Thursday, depending on my work schedule. The Character can appear at any given time during the era and in any given chapter for as long as I feel they can work, so don’t be discouraged thinking I have forgotten you because I haven’t. I am doing this to make it easier on myself as I have to find a way to insert the person and have the story still make sense/flow without falling behind.

**Also please note that even though you are given a choice, if you choose to place someone in the present, that does not mean the person will forever be in the fic from then on out. They can easily be a student I choose to hide in the shadows once their scenes are done or…for all we know, I may fall in love with the character and continue to write for them. We just don’t know.

***This game starts once the current era is done and the new eras’ clue is revealed!! So, you have at least 5-6 chapters to think of a person you want to put in the story if you win! Good Luck!

[threewaysdivided]

Author Meme

Tagged by @pi-cat000​. Hello to you too!  I'm also something of a lurking digital hermit, but more than happy to interact so feel free to tag me in stuff, send asks or just poke my blog with a stick if you want to chat.

Author Name:  Three Ways Divided across Tumblr, Archive of Our Own and  Fanfiction.net.  Occasionally I do art-stuff and post the High-Res versions to DeviantArt as RedMoonWhiteTiger.

Fandoms You Write For:  Pretty much just Young Justice and Danny Phantom.  I’m involved in other fandoms too but I don’t produce fic-content for them (maybe one day).

Where You Post: For Fanfic:  Started on FFN then began crossposting to Ao3 when I noticed people migrating across to the archive.  Now I simulpost to both, and drop a linked preview here when new content comes out.

For Art:  Any proper finished pieces go to DeviantArt for full res viewing, as well as under #my art here.  Sillier art stuff and WIPS are Tumblr-only.

Other stuff:  Tumblr.  Outside of fic and art the main things I do are long analytical meta-pieces under the #scattered thoughts tag, discussions of writing for the #writing advice tag, and food stuff under #3WD Cooks. 

Most Popular One-Shot:   I only have one official one-shot right now and it’s my DP piece Defining Moment, so I guess it wins by default.

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: There’s something to be said for limited choices - my one and only is, of course, Young Justice: Deathly Weapons.

Favourite Story You Wrote: I have a love-hate relationship with YJ:DW but I’m very happy with how the plan’s coming out so far.

Story You Were Nervous to Post:  I have exactly 2 stories and I wasn’t particularly nervous about posting either - either they’d work or they’d vanish and I’d let them go when my interest ran out.  There are some more out-there concepts that maybe one day might develop into fics, but if they survive workshopping then I’ll at least be confident that they’re not completely devoid of value.  

Right now I’m mostly nervous about ensuring that new YJ:DW chapters live up to the existing material.

How Do You Choose Your Titles:  Typically Wordplay.  If I can find a pun or phrase with double-meanings then I might use that.  Callbacks or references to the source material also work in a pinch. 

For example, “Young Justice: Deathly Weapons” is a reference to YJ’s canon titling style and a play on the phrase “Deadly Weapons” (i.e. lethal weapons) and the word “Deathly” (adj.: resembling or suggestive of death), because dangerous plot involving ghosts.  Several of the chapters and planned chapters have titles that are chemistry references, puns or nods to other series.

Do You Outline:  Do I outline?

You tell me.

Complete:

Unless it’s a one-shot, not for a very long time.  

I do plan my stories with the end in mind but I’m also a compulsively overambitious, overachieving, perfectionist gremlin so there’s a whole lot of content and drafting between here and there.  By a lot I mean an entire half-season of the show.  This one puts the long in long-fic.

In-Progress: 

I have one fic that’s not a one-shot, and I promise I’m still working on it.

Coming Soon: YJ:DW Chapter 17 “Assessment” is 1k from draft completion and getting closer each week.

Do You Accept Prompts: Not really, no.  My writing style typically involves a lot of planning and drafting so I find spontaneous flash-fic hard unless I’m especially inspired.

BUT!  Analysis is my bread and butter so if anyone ever wanted some fic-meta, or analysis of storytelling/ characters or even to pitch a story/scene/trope idea for feedback/suggestions, I can spin out a decent essay-style or research piece quite fast.  My brain is naturally geared towards analytical writing over narrative prose.

“My mind," he said, "rebels at stagnation. Give me problems, give me work, give me the most abstruse cryptogram or the most intricate analysis, and I am in my own proper atmosphere.” - Sherlock Holmes

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited to Write:  Young Justice: Deathly Weapons is actually 12 semi-self-contained story-episodes, at least 2 significant character arcs, a long-running mystery and a bunch of short character essays stacked inside a trench coat and masquerading as a single sane fanfiction, so mostly I’d just like keep on with that.  I also have a few tie-in one-shots, so I’ll be prioritising this series before moving on to any other big projects.

Ideas I’ve been kicking around and may one day write when YJ:DW is closer to done and assuming they survive workshopping:

DP x YJS1 Danny-Dick Brother AU, of which there are three variant ideas for execution

DP x YJS1 dissection-fic in the vein of Unfair Justice

DP x YJS1 literal crossover in which Danny has to leave his universe behind and ends up on Earth 16

DP AU fic - in which the Fenton parents are much worse at parenting, Danny gets his powers a different way and we explore depression, isolation, self-perception, self-hatred and neglect

BNHA fic in which Izuku never gets One For All, tones down the fanboy after realising just how serious the issues with the status quo are and chooses to go into Support instead to change the system from within

Dark Souls one-shot mood piece

Yeah, YJ:DW is more light-hearted than all but two of these, my brain is just a barrel of laughs.

-

Tagging: @lunagalemaster @batmanisagatewaydrug @ao3commentoftheday I would be curious to hear from you if you’re interested and have the time.

If anyone else would like to participate but haven’t been tagged, please consider this your open invitation.