#None of them were fire fires but small things burning with lots of smoke

[jadewritesficshere]

The boy is mine (Jade's edition)

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie has a plan for a romantic night, but things go awry (2k words)

Contents: Anxiety, Eddie is self deprecating, hurt/comfort (kinda), no gendered terms for reader except mention that their hand is smaller then Eddie's and reader is called beautiful, a literal fire (please look up fire safety), fluff

A/N: So I saw this the first day it was posted and I thought it was a fun idea and saved the prompt by @carolmunson. I've been writing this for a bit,, but like I have had such bad mental fog and generalized pain recently I have been having a hard time focusing...I think I kind of misinterpreted the rules a bit...so here is sad lump of a contribution. Call me Stitch the way I am telling myself "it may be little and broken but still good".

18+ only

The night had started well, at least Eddie thought it had. He promised you a romantic night in. He even prepped for it.

Eddie rented sappy love movies, getting advice by Harrington and Buckley surprisingly. Harrington stated flowers were the way to go, but then started arguing with Buckley. While entertaining, Eddie learned more about the languages of romance from Buckley then he did about romantic gifts. But he wrote down to get flowers.

So he watched the movies. And Eddie was high paid a lot of attention and basically learned to make a grand speech. Big pour out your heart moment. Which, he felt he always talked your ear off, so he could totally do.

Eddie then read those magazines all the cheerleaders gossiped and giggled over. He didn't learn much except some tips for the best kiss. Cup the person's cheek and lean in slowly. Build the suspense. Eddie could do that.

Give you flowers. Make a speech. Cup your cheek as he kisses you. Eddie had this in the bag! Each point written in his little notebook.

And then the reality of you coming to his trailer hit him when you called to confirm the date was still on that morning. He hung up the phone after flirting a bit and looked around his house. Nerves flooded his system as he looked at it with the perspective of an outsider. He didn't want it to look bad. And it was, well, it wasn't bad but definitely could be cleaner.

So Eddie had vacuumed and dusted the entire trailer. Tossed empty pizza boxes in the trash. Sprayed some cologne around the trailer to cover the scent of weed, then cursed himself for using the expensive cologne when there was a bottle of air freshener in the bathroom.

Had picked up his clothes scattered across his room and shoved them all, clean and dirty, into the closet. Had made sure his bed had more then one pillow, grabbing spare throw pillows and tossing them towards the headboard. Even if he didn't think there was a chance you would enter his bedroom tonight, he wanted to be prepared.

Eddie had even started dinner before you arrived. An easy roast that Wayne had made hundreds of times. Thrown meat, potatoes, onions, and carrots into the pot, seasoned it and thrown it all in the oven.

It was newer, this thing between you, and he wanted to get it all right. You'd been friends for years, just recently evolved into dating. It was easy to hold your hand and throw an arm around your shoulder before, stealing those small intimate moments and pretending it meant something more. But now it does mean more. Truly, it always had, but neither of you had said anything. Because like usual, Eddie was the coward and ran.

He spent what felt like minutes (it had been hours) looking back at the notes, the plan. He had even sketched some pictures of you and him as he studied. Gave himself some sweet new tattoos and piercings and muscles while you had hearts around your head. By the time he stopped rereading the same points over and over again, he realized you would be there within the hour.

And he already failed the first point, flowers. It had completely spaced him what with the studying, but he had other things he had been wanting to give you so he figured he could wing it. He rehearsed everything in his mind, having various conversations with you. He would take your coat, be charming as ever, and you would fall for him even more then you already had.

But the plan immediately left his mind when you had arrived. Eddie could feel his face flush as his eyes trailed up and down your figure. All the rushing thoughts in his head suddenly stopped. All he could think was Damn, how'd I get so lucky?

"You're beautiful." Eddie mumbled in awe as you had shrugged off your coat. And then you smiled and Eddie realized he had messed up the plan. He thought he had went through every variable but he hadn't. It wasn't you that was going to fall more in love with him tonight, but Eddie was going to fall more in love with you.

Eddie twirled a piece of hair around his finger, unable to meet your eyes. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and his palms were begin to sweat. He couldn't help but shift from foot to foot. "Oh I uh....got you something," Eddie smiled and turned to leave before hesitating and motioning to the couch," You can uh sit...or stand, standing is good too! I'll be right back."

Eddie cursed himself the whole time he walked away because of how stupid he was. He could stage elaborate campaigns but couldn't seem to form a single sentence in your presence. Eddie grabbed the gift off his dresser and inhaled slowly, mentally yelling at himself to be cool for once in his life.

And faltered in his steps.

Because you were sat on the couch. Not just on the edge of the cushion like those who he dealt to who couldn't wait to get out of his presence. No, you were fully relaxed into the cushion. You looked comfortable. You looked like you belonged.

And Eddie couldn't squash the butterflies that took flight in his stomach. And he sat on the cushion next to you, fighting the urge to wrap you in his arms and hold you close.

"I got you this," Eddie declared as he handed you a rock. A small, smooth stone that fit in the palm of your hand. Your mouth parted but no words came out. Eddie bit his lip as you slowly turned the stone over in your hands, staring at it.

"I saw it and I thought, well, I thought of you and it matches your eyes and-" Eddie huffed out a laugh and shook his head," Sorry, it's stupid just give it back."

Eddie moved to grab it out of your hand but you slapped at his arm and clenched the stone in your hand. "No, it's mine!" You held your hand to your chest and glared at him. "It's stupid," Eddie looked down. "It is not." "It is!"

"Are you serious? If you don't stop we're gonna have a problem. This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me." You beamed at him. Joy and adoration written clearly across your face. Eddie slowly grinned back as you dared to open your palm and look at the stone again. "My precious," you wiggled your eyebrows at him, making him bark out a laugh as he relaxed.

"Let's save a ring for a later date." He joked, even as his mind raced. You quoted Lord of the Rings! You were sitting on his couch holding a rock he thought was the same shade as your eyes and you liked it!! He was done for. Completely head over heels fallen for you. Said he would never marry yet here he was planning his vows and everything.

"Seriously, Eddie, this is so sweet." Your hand grasped his. Your hand was smaller then his, fitting perfectly. Fingers interlocked hesitantly and then more surely. Eddie's eyes fell to your lips. Your tongue darted out slightly and wet them. And he started to lean in.

The air was thick, and not just with the tension, the anticipation. Your lips were milliseconds to coming in contact with his when Eddie's nose twitched as he caught a familiar scent. Your lips landed on Eddie's cheek as he turned so quickly to face the kitchen he gave himself whiplash.

Thick smoke started to waft out of the room. "Oh fuck!" He jumped up as the smoke detector finally started doing its job and screeched out an annoying beep. Eddie ran into the kitchen with you hot on his heels.

Eddie opened the oven door, smoke billowing out," SHITshitshit-" Eddie cursed as he slammed the door shut, coughing slightly. Your hand reached past him to shut off the oven before darting over to the window and throwing it open.

Eddie's eyes darted to the sink below the window. Stop, drop, and roll- wait no that was if you were on fire. But water beats fire in almost every scenario, right? Except oil, shit did he add oil? No, he didn't add anything except the food and the seasoning so it should all be good right?

"Stand back!" Eddie yells over the screeching alarm. Grabbing the pot holders, he throws the oven door open. Smoke billows past him as he makes a mad dash for the pot, grasping the handles and throwing it in the sink. He throws the faucet on, water pouring over the burnt food and pot.

Steam billows up with smoke, mingling in the air before flowing out the window. A hissing sound from the cool water hitting the hot pot fills the air. You fan the flames towards the open window. "Oh fuck." You cough as your eyes fill with tears from the smoke. Eddie winces as flurried apologies fall from his lips.

The pot, not on fire at least, starts to lessen up on producing smoke. Eddie deems it safe to leave and grabs your hand, dragging you outside. His hands on your shoulders guide you to sit on the steps as you continue to intermittently cough. Eddie rushes back into the kitchen, double checking that the oven was off, and quickly grabs a mug holding it under the still running faucet.

Eddie rushes back outside to you, almost missing the step and face planting. And wouldn't that have been the icing on the cake. Would that make Eddie or the embarrassment of faceplanting be the vanilla frosting? Who even created that saying? Cake was good and this was not good. Eddie shook his head of these thoughts as he sank down on the step next to you.

Eddie hands you the mug of water. You drink it in big gulps, a small dribble of water falling out of the side of your mouth towards your chin. Eddie wipes it away with his thumb as he apologizes," I am so sorry, I don't even know what happened."

"Is this Garfield?" You peer at the mug, as if Eddie almost didn't kill you. "Uh yeah, was in a rush, sorry I didn't grab like a nicer cup. I just ran out...to you..." "Don't apologize, I like Garfield," you mumble taking another drink of the water.

"Are you okay?" Eddie asks, hands running up and down your shoulders, eyes checking you over. "Think I hacked up a lung from all the smoke...," you rub your sternum," Man, my lungs do not like smoke...and you like that?" Eddie let out a nervous laugh," Yeah no sorry, only when its weed. Never really inhaled a straight fire before."

You look up into Eddie's eyes that are full of concern. "Well, I'd recommend like not doing that. But I'm okay, it startled me more then anything," You give a soft smile. "You sure?" "Positive." You knock his shoulder with yours.

Eddie's eyes search your figure, ensuring you aren't lying to him. You ignore him, opting to set the mug down on the ground. Fingers brushing against a dandelion, yellow and bright. You pluck it from the ground and twirl it between your fingers.

You're okay. You're holding a dandelion and you're okay. You aren't acting like you hate him. You aren't making excuses and leaving. You aren't leaving like everyone else-

Eddie's shoulders relax as the tension leaves his body. You're okay. Your relationship is okay. He didn't ruin everything. You're smiling at a fucking dandelion while his heart feels like it has run a marathon.

You're oblivious to his plight as you lean over and tuck the dandelion behind his ear," Maybe don't smoke that. Looks pretty on you." "Not that kind of weed." "Yeah dumb joke sorry."

A slow exhale escapes him as he shakes his head,"No it's good I'm just," Eddie waves his hand in front of him," like what the fuck just happened? I am never cooking again. I'll just take you to Enzo's. I fucked up. Sorry for ruining the date."

Your hand cupped his cheek as you ducked down to meet his eyes," Hey, no. You didn't ruin the date." Eddie rolls his eyes slightly," Almost killing you? Yeah, pretty sure i ruined it." You bump your knee against Eddie's, "it's not ruined and you didn't almost kill me. Small food fire, happens to everyone. I lit popcorn on fire once. Besides, if you did happen to kill me, at least I would have died happy and in love. And you'd be stuck with me cause ghost me is absolutely haunting you."

Eddie can't help but laugh slightly," Oh? You think you'd be a ghost and not get another chance at life? Be reincarnated or whatever?" "Well, even if I was reincarnated, I'd find you again."

Eddie scoffs, "C'mon, don't say that.. That's not even true, you'd totally be able to move on. You wouldn't need little old me." You grab his face and peer into his eyes," Eddie Munson, I will always need you. In this life and whatever happens after. You and me? We're it. Maybe it should be too soon to say, but I feel it in my bones. You're it for me Eddie. Together now, forever, and when everything ceases to exist we'll be in nothing together. I will always be with you because I will always love you."

You lean in and Eddie thinks his heart stops. Your hand holding his cheek in place, thumb lightly brushing back and forth. His eyes flutter shut as your lips finally touch his. It was soft and sweet, lips slowly parting and melding together in a dance that sent shivers down Eddie's spine. He sighed into the kiss as you leaned closer into each other. Your hands threading through his hair, his wrapping around your waist. Lips moving in tandem, tongues darting out tentatively.

You only part when you both are gasping for air. Soft smiles and longing glances shared as the sun sets. "I love you too." Eddie traces your cheekbone with his finger. "You better." You joke. Your combined giggles fill the air as you continue to steal kisses from each other.

The night may not have been the most romantic. Or gone to plan, like, at all. But it was one Eddie already knew that when he thought about he would be able to feel his heart swell with love. And as he kissed you Eddie thought, yeah you were it for him.

[anti-the-glitch-bitch]

We need a Hero

She wasn't supposed to be here. She knew that. Bobby had told the entire team to vacate the building 20 minutes ago, and she was going to. She really was. She'd turned to go down the stairs when she heard the kids screaming for help. She couldn't just abandon them when she was so close.

Through the smoke and fire, through the entire building shaking, she raced towards the apartment, where she heard the kids banging on the door. After telling them to get back, she'd rammed her body into the stuck door several times before it finally popped open.

Neither child was older than six, and both were absolutely terrified.

The building gave another shudder, and somewhere above her, she heard part of the ceiling collapse. If she wanted to make it out alive, she needed to get out now.

Scooping up the crying kids, one in each arm, she rushed to the stairs. She had ten floors to get down; if she didn't hurry, none of them would make it out alive.

The staircase was filling with smoke faster than she would have liked, and the children's coughing was increasing at an alarming rate, making her worried about their lungs. The closer she got to the ground floor, the more the shaking increased. She'd just reached the ground floor when Bobby's voice came through her radio, screaming that the building was collapsing.

She could see the rest of the team outside holding back Buck and Eddie as they struggled to get to her. There was no way she was making it to the entrance. The building was breaking apart too fast, and the entrance was simply too far. So, she did the only thing she could do.

She took the kids and tried to wedge them all under the staircase as tight as possible, using herself as a wall to cover the children's exposed parts.

It broke her heart to hear Buck and Eddie screaming her name through the open channel the team had been using. She didn't want to scare the kids more than they already were, so she said what the three of them always said to each other instead of goodbye.

"See you on the other side."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sir, there seems to have been an accident. By my readings, Ms. Charlotte has been critically injured."

Tony's heart stopped, and the only thing he could think of was the fact that his kid was in danger.

"Sir, I've alerted the team. They are on the way."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing Charlotte noticed was the pressure on her back. It felt like the entire building was sitting directly on her. It hurt to breathe but that could also be the smoke inhalation. She tried to get up, but the moment she started moving her legs, pain raced up them, causing her to cry out.

Trying to keep calm, Charlotte looks around. In front of her are the two small kids huddled together underneath a small part of the staircase that had held. They were covered in soot and dust, but they looked relatively unharmed. They looked absolutely terrified, and they had every right to be.

"It's gonna be ok. My friends are outside and are looking for us. We just have to sit still and wait for them." The best thing to do was keep them calm and hope that her team would find them in time.

With only one arm free from the rubble that had them trapped, there wasn't a lot that she could do. She was struggling to breathe now, and she wondered if maybe a broken rib had punctured a lung. If that was the case, then she might not make it before someone found them. She'd never get to say goodbye.

A beeping noise filled the silence and slowly got louder. At first, Charlotte thought that she was imagining things until she remembered the watch Tony gave her last year. When he found out she had become a firefighter, he got to work making her a specialized watch. It was connected to Jarvis and would send Tony an alert if she was ever in a life-threatening situation. She'd wanted to refuse because she didn't want him trying to step in every time she went into a burning building. It wasn't until he promised he would only step in if she was in absolute danger of dying that she accepted the gift. It had never been needed until now which is why she'd completely forgotten about it.

A red glow peaked through the gap between her firefighter coat and glove. The oldest child took off her glove and pushed her sleeve up when she asked. The glow only got brighter, and the beeping got louder when the watch was exposed.

Slowly bringing her wrist closer to her face, Charlotte looked at the screen of her watch. It looked like they'd been down there for hours. "Jarvis, call Tony.....Code Sorry."

It was a joke between the two of them that seemed appropriate now. Tony had told her she'd be grateful when she was in trouble, and she had the watch. She'd told him that if that day ever came, she would happily apologize. Now, she wasn't sure if she would ever be able to.

It was getting colder, and she was struggling to stay awake, which she remembered Hen saying was a bad sign. It meant the person was seriously injured.

"Charlotte! Wake up!"

Someone was yelling her name, but she didn't see anyone except the kids as she tried to keep her eyes open. Her vision blurred, and she almost closed her eyes again, but something tiny hovered in front of her. It took everything she had to focus on the object, and when her sight finally cleared up, it looked like a flying bug with a person on it.

"Antman?" Charlotte could barely whisper. She felt like she'd swallowed fire and dust.

"Yeah, Tony sent me in to find you. He's with your friends waiting for me. He's also got them patched into the comms. Your friend Hen is asking if you have any injuries."

"I don't know if I'll make it to a hospital. Kids need help." She was gasping for air just to say those little words. She was trying so hard to hold on, but that creeping darkness was invading her vision, and she was tired.

The noise faded out, and the last thing she saw was sunlight as the building seemed to lift in the air.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a month in the hospital, Charlotte was finally cleared to go home. She was by no means healed, but she was healthy enough to go home. She did have to stay with Buck and Eddie much to the chagrin of her father.

Tony had tried to talk her into going back home with him, but she didn't want to deal with the helicopter he would become. It was bad enough that he had tried to fight Bobby in the hospital just because she hadn't followed orders. It had been no one's fault.

Buck and Eddie were in tears when they were finally allowed to see her. They'd seen the damage and heard what she had said. They thought they'd never get a chance to see her again.

Both legs had been shattered, and she had been correct about the punctured lung. There had been internal bleeding and a few other things wrong, but Tony had called in both Dr. Cho and Dr. Strange, and she'd made it through the multiple surgeries.

After the hugging and tears stopped, Buck told Charlotte that the kids she had saved made it through just fine. Once the smoke inhalation problem had been resolved, they both recovered fully. They had even drawn her a few pictures of her rescuing them. Charlotte was not ashamed to say she started crying at that.

Now, all she has to do is go home with the people she considers her brothers and heal. Bobby promised when she had healed up a bit more, he would host a cookout. Tony was even invited as long as he didn't try to fight anyone.

Charlotte had never taken either family for granted, but sometimes it felt like the universe wanted to make sure she never forgot how easily it could all be taken away. Reminders like these made her thankful that she wasn't alone and that she had not just one family that she loved and that loved her back, but two.

[malevolentbooks]

29: Fuse

Maggie was trained in steam. Good, old-fashioned steam. Pistons and pipes and huge burners producing large amounts of smoke. A. main boiler that you protected since it it went you were done.

She'd worked on steam cannons so large that they could demolish a wall in a single short. She'd repaired steam needle guns that fired so fast that the main problem was getting ammunition into them, not keeping the mechanism working.

These are things you oil, things you tighten, things you can listen to and figure out why they're not working. Steam speaks a language as it flows through pipes, and with experience you can interpret what it's saying and fix anything that comes along.

Unfortunately, one of the issues with working for the Tech-Lords was that every now and then one of them would get an idea to do something different. As a mechanic, you were just expected to ride along and work the same maintenance wonders you always did, even if you had no idea what the theory the thing was working under was.

Lord Fossmorton-Bullwinter had called this new stuff "Electricity", and he'd picked it up on a recent trip to London. It was supposed to be the newest thing. Smaller, quieter, and more powerful than steam could ever be.

Maggie's main problem was that it didn't make any noise. When it was working all you heard was the creaking of the juggernaut as it took each step, and a huge number of crackling noises as it discharged a weapon.

The smell, rather than being that rich mix of wet metal and burned coal dust was more of an acrid odor that made your breath catch in your throat. There were still some gears and levers, but the motors they were attached to were nothing like the pistons she was used to.

The manual she'd been given to work on this thing was essentially a dupli-stat of his Lordship's notes from the London trip. Lots of equations in bad handwriting and small things written in the margins that were either functional diagrams or the words "jolly good" unintelligibly written.

These were, of course, the normal problems one gets used to when working for people whose sanity lasted about as long as the bottle of brandy at a high-class party.

The problem she had right at this moment was that Lord Foss-Bull had decided to take his new toy on a raid to test it, and just as they'd seen the two Truculent-class land spiders coming their way, everything had stopped moving.

The speaking tube whistled. Maggie pulled the whistle out of the tube and her Lord's voice, made no less nasally by a trip through a long metal pipe.

"I say, Mags, could you please check the fuse cabinet. I think we've blown something and could use a bit of power about now, aye? That's a good lass." he said, apparently unperturbed by his approaching and self-inflicted death.

"Aye, M'lord. I'll lock it down." Maggie responded, more out of habit than confidence in her ability repair anything.

The cabinet labeled "Fuses" was fairly apparent, so she opened it to find several rows of large...she assumed...fuses. They each had a handle to grab them by, and were held in place with springs. Each handle had a different color on it, apparently related to its capacity.

"Okay, great. They're like valves for electricity. Easy enough." she said, beginning to inspect them.

One of them was quite clearly hot, and the body and handle of it had been scorched with heat. Pulling an oily rag out of her pocket, she grabbed the handle and pulled, being rather surprised when it popped right out.

She checked the color code. Red. She looked to the spares cabinet for a red fuse. Green. Blue. Yellow. Orange. Black. No red fuses.

She heard a loud noise and the juggernaut shook. She was running out of time. None of the other fuses would fit in the open slot, so she looked at them careful to see how they were made. She'd just have to improvise.

Removing the bare piece of metal from the burned fuse, she shoved in a wrench from her tool belt. It fit...well enough. She then returned to the fusebox and tried to jam it into place. Unfortunately the wrench made it slightly too large. Fortunately she still had her hammer, and with a bit of percussive maintenance was able to get it into place and hit the reset button.

The juggernaut surged to life and began to move again. She looked inside at her improvised fuse and saw that her wrench was beginning to glow slightly. Shame. She like that wrench.

Pulling the whistle from the speaking tube she blew into it.

"Smashing job, Mags! We'll have these steam-powered buggers scrapped in no time!" came his Lordship's voice from the other end.

"That's great, sir, but you may want to hurry it a bit. I'm not sure how long that repair will keep." Maggie said quickly, knowing it was probably pointless.

"We'll just the jolly big guns then! Hold on, lads!" came the distracted response from the other end.

Maggie rolled her eyes, but as she knew her employer, also held on.

[fan-burns]

Robots 2

Chapter 3: Rodney’s POV 4 years later…

"It’s nothing to worry about", I said. "It’ll be over in a month, I said!"

At the top of Bigweld Industries stands the main office, where all the business stuff happens. Parties happen up here too but that’s not what’s happening right now. I’m standing face to face with my boss, Bigweld, next to our desks. For years now, Ratchet became less of an evil murderer and more of a saint sent from Cog himself.

And we don’t. Know. Why.

“Well, Rodney, you know why I’ve called you up here. Give me your thoughts on this.”

If Bigweld was serious, then you know it’s bad. He handed me a copy of The Robot Times, on the front of it was an older picture of Ratchet with a halo edited onto it. Skimming through it, all I found was a bunch of nonsense about stocks, saving graces, and something about him being “The True High King of Robot City.”

I could feel my processor overheating just trying to understand it all, after everything that’s happened, after everything that he did, this is what happens now? I threw the blasted thing onto the table in frustration, I couldn’t look at it anymore.

“My thoughts? My thoughts?! I think this is just some big cruel joke! There are Outmodes, Outmodes! Who are praising his work without any hesitation! None! Hell, I even caught some of our own employees getting caught up in it!! I’ve had to fire at least fifteen bots this week because they’d be so caught up in the whole, “Ratchet’s done great deeds!'' and how “Bigweld is evil!” like it’s common knowledge!”

“Um, Rodney-”

“Oh, and let’s not forget the favorite, “Rodney is being controlled like everyone else! We have to save the poor boy!” LIKE I’M THE ONE WHO NEEDS SAVING!”

I slammed my fist into the desk, leaving behind a small dent. I felt something burning inside of me, like I was being fueled by fire instead of oil…I’m overheating again.

Bigweld must have known this, because he handed me a small cup of coolant. As I reached for it, I noticed the streams of smoke rising out of the seams of my arm. A sight that’s getting far too familiar with me. I never get this worked up unless it’s for a good reason. Being frustrated as to why everyone is suddenly promoting the bot who tried to kill them all is a good reason.

“I-I'm sorry sir, I’m just-”

“No, no, you're perfectly fine…I've been out of character myself.”

By the time I drank everything in the cup, the doors opened to reveal the two other members of our meeting. Cappy was the first to walk in, and beside her Harvey. This was the bot who gave me a set of legs when we couldn’t find a pair. He practically saved my life alongside Bigweld.

He was the first to speak, “I drove over here the moment I got your call. I would have arrived sooner if those damned cultists didn’t block the road here.”

I perked up at that, if they were starting to get violent, we could have a problem. “Wait, what? What happened?”

Harvey walked towards the head of the table and took a seat near Bigweld’s desk. He crossed his legs as he did so, and the three of us gathered closer.

“Well, I got your call after I had dismissed that last client of mine. You sounded distressed, so I figured I’d get here as fast as I could. You lot do know Roddy here is my favorite.”

As if on cue, I started to heat up. Harvey was always the social flirt, and while I do know that he’s joking, I still can’t help but blush a bit. I don’t think anyone can help it.

“Cutie aside," he went on, "I was about half way here when I was stopped by a roadblock. At first I thought it was the police investigating an accident, but I couldn’t see or hear any sirens. All I could hear was some sort of chanting.”

“Chanting?” Cappy questioned.

“It wasn’t really a “chant” per say, but it’s really the only way I can describe it. Anyways, there was this sound that they were playing, and it started to hurt-”

This time it was Bigweld who interrupted, “Wait, hurt? Hurt how? Like your processor was going to split apart?”

Harvey looked at him like he just solved all of the world’s problems with one answer, “Yes! It was like I was melting but coming back together again! It was cold and warm at the same time and-”

“Does it still hurt?” Bigweld interrupted again.

Harvey looked at him confused, “Well, somewhat. It’s a little better now…but that’s besides the point, something weird was happening, I freaked out, so I sped away and arrived here. I met Cappy in the elevator, and now we're here.”

I looked over to Bigweld to see if I could come to the same conclusion as him. He was terrified, as if he’d just see someone get ripped apart. Whatever Bigweld was thinking of, it couldn’t have been pretty or good.

Cappy must have known I was nervous, because it was her that broke the silence.

“Ok, so we’re dealing with some kind of noise, right? Like a white noise?”

Harvey got up from where he was sitting as Cappy continued.

“Maybe Ratchet’s got some weird noise generator that makes bots go crazy, it sounds like something he would do.”

I turned to her, “I thought about that too, but white noise is way too weak with today’s tech. Worst case scenario you could make everyone hop around on one leg for hours.”

Eventually Harvey gave his idea, although his tone seemed off as he described it. “What if this is something we’ve never seen before? I mean think of it, the Chop Shop is probably filled with criminals and illegal technologies, it wouldn’t be past someone like Ratchet to use them like this. He’s a violent narcissist, so he’d want back in the picture. However, since he’s a criminal, he has to be sneaky about this”

Harvey’s familiar with detective and profile work and knows the law like the back of his fancy hand, so naturally he’ll go all out with trying to figure this whole thing out, regardless if he isn’t the best at it. Despite this, he didn't sound confident in his idea. Instead he seemed...nervous. It was like he was hiding something, but that didn't make sense. Maybe he was tired?

He continued, “B-But if Ratchet has to be sneaky about this, why is he making it so obvious that he’s behind this? Did something go wrong? Does he want us to know? I profiled him as a careful, manipulative narcissus who’s too cowardly to act! He’s acting completely out of character!”

“I don’t think this is Ratchet.” Bigweld interrupted yet again, “I think he’s got a partner, someone who’s smarter than him. If this really is what I think it is, then we’re in danger.”

Danger? Again? I turned to him, “What do you mean, “danger”? We’ve beat him before, so we can-”

“No, Rodney. We can’t beat him without proper planning this time. We can’t use your “Run ‘n Gun” method. We need to be careful.”

“Sir, I don’t understand.”

“I think we’re dealing with something huge...like an EMP.”

Silence. Cold, dead silence.

An EMP? A fairy tale that’s been told over and over again? That’s what’s going on?

After who knows how long, Harvey was the first to speak, but again he seemed off about it. His words were condescending but his tone seemed to be that of relief. “A-An EMP? Don’t be ridiculous, sir! That’s just an old bots tale!”

Bigweld turned to him with a glare, “I am telling you, that is what we’re dealing with! There isn’t a doubt in my mind! There’s only one peice of technology that can do something like this!”

Not sure what to do, I tried to talk to Bigeld, “Sir, please, Harvey has a point, and-”

“I’ve been working on technology long enough now, and I know exactly what that noise is!”

Cappy chimed in, “Then what is it then?”

“It’s the EMP itself”, Bigweld explained, “It sends a series of signals that damage the critical thinking components of the brain module. Once these parts are damaged, the EMP takes its place and function, and alters the way a bot processes and perceives the world around them.”

He then turned from her to face all of us at once. “It even has the capability to alter a bot’s relationships and beliefs, without anyone knowing. Not even the bot themself is aware of it. Whoever sends out the signal is now in control of that bots entire life.”

I’ve heard plenty of those phony horror stories of EMPs from my mom whenever we went camping, but I never knew they could do all of that. But those are just stories!

Cappy gave her accurate stance on the situation, “This is crazy, I mean if this thing is even real, what are we supposed to do? If it can control anyone then..."

She looked around the room, as if accusing one of us of being controlled by Ratchet. “Then who can we trust?”

Cappy had a point, but I know her, she’s never the paranoid type. She’s going somewhere with this. Cappy continued, “While I sincerely doubt that Ratchets using some...mind control ray thing, we can’t exactly rule it out. It's more likely that they have something similar to it. I say we put a list together, a list that shows us who’s the most vulnerable to tech like this just in case. That way we can know who to keep an eye on in case something happens.”

Bingo. She’s planning ahead.

“Brilliant as always, Cappy,” Bigweld said, “Let’s start with ourselves, then move onto the others. Rodney and I will compile a list for the other employees after the meeting.”

With Bigweld’s nod of approval, Cappy began her analysis. "If Ratchet’s big plan is to eventually come out of hiding, then Bigweld, Rodney, and I are at the most risk. While we’d rather die than help Ratchet, we’re still targets to him.”

The thought of Ratchet going after Cappy was enough to get my engine to spew flames. He’d harassed her enough when he was in charge of the company, but if he was in charge of the whole city? And with no one to ever question or rebel against him? Absolutely not. I could and will fight him should it come to that. Then again, Cappy would probably do a better job of kicking his aft than me, but that’s not the point.

“What about me?” Spoke Harvey, “He’d probably go after someone in a position of power like mine. I may not be a judge anymore, but I could still be an asset to him.” he spoke hastily.

Cappy answered his query with a nod, “You're right, just about everyone who's with Rodney is a target. Even the Wonderbot could be at risk.”

I had to object, “He wouldn’t waste time with them. To him, they’re just a pet of mine.”

The Wonderbot was more than that, obviously. Their like our own child. Cappy loves them, I love them. Everyone loves them! They’re a loving, kind, fun loving little trinket that-

“Wait, didn’t they kill Madam Gasket?” Bigweld recalled.

Oh right, they did do that. They’re into murder too...I keep forgetting about that.

“Regardless," Cappy interrupted. "It’s safe to say everyone whoever works here is at risk.”

Once Cappy finished, I took the stage for the next step. “Alright, how about focusing on who can fight this thing? Any names come to mind?”

Startled by this, Bigweld intervened, “Rodney, no one can resist an EMP. That’s how they work!”

I stared back at him, “You seem to know a lot about these EMPs, there has to be something we can use against it? We can’t just quit!”

He let out a heavy sigh and brought me in closer. He didn’t attempt to hide what he was saying though, there wouldn’t be any benefit in hiding something from us. “Look Rodney, there is something we could potentially use, but it’s not a guarantee, it might not even be a thing anymore. A long time ago when I was a boy, I saw what these things can do first hand when some lunatic created his own. It didn’t take the lights out, but it managed to put a few bots offline for weeks. I was near that place when it happened, yet nothing seemed to happen to me. I was fine, the device was eventually scrapped, and everyone went back online.”

“Then there is something we can do!" I exclaimed. "What did you do? Did you have any special parts? A strong Anti-virus? A metal hat?!”

“Nothing!" He half laughed. "The signal just couldn’t reach me! Those generators can only cover so much land before the signal starts to weaken. Where I was at, it couldn’t reach me. I only got lucky with a tiny one. Imagine what an EMP large enough to cover a city could do, how much ground it could cover. That’s why we need to exercise extreme caution and face the facts. There is no surefire way to resist it. Not that we know of at least.”

It was the best and worst thing we could use, but it was all we had now. We still didn’t know how this signal was being put out there, or where it’s coming from. Hell, we don’t even know if this thing is even real. Regardless, we had to try it. It might be the only thing that gives us a fighting chance should Ratchet actually be crazy to build one.

“We have to try it. It’s our only shot.”

I could tell that he doubted me, but to be fair he had a point. These things were, well, scary as hell. If Ratchet did have one that could control others, Cog knows what would happen. He may have his doubts, but he clearly trusts me, and he gave me a nod of approval before giving me some space.

I started again, “Ok, so the signal can only go so far. We have no idea how big this thing is, if it even exists, so we’ll have to focus on the things that we do know. Who do we think would be vulnerable to being mind controlled?”

Everyone gave themselves a minute to think, then Harvey had a good idea. “What about Lug? He’s a pretty big guy, maybe that physical strength translates to psychological strength too?”

Bigweld teased the idea, “You might be onto something, there.”

“How about Piper? She’s not going down without a fight if she can help it.” Cappy replied.

“Good thinking,” I replied, “But Piper only turned eighteen last week, she still needs her adult mental components. Age could be a factor in this too.”

"Then she should still be able to fight it, " Cappy argued. "Since she's healthier than, say, someone like Jack."

Bigweld rolled to all three of us, “Hold on, let’s write this down somewhere. Rodney and I will put it down on our computers. Harvey and Cappy, I’ll get something physical for you two to write this down on. If our computers are sabotaged, then we’ll have two other copies of it.”

“Good idea, sir,” Harvey smiled, “I’ll keep mine safe in my…well, safe!”

“I’ll keep mine locked in the dresser at home. Rodney, I’ll put the key in your arm chest thing.”

“You mean my arm component?” I quizzed her, annoyed that she forgot the name of them again.

“Yeah, that. One of them.”

I heard Bigweld clear his throat, calling our attention, “Well then, I say we get started!”

And like that, Bigweld and I ran to our computers while Cappy and Harvey took their seats closest to our desk. Surely we can all come up with something in a timely manner right?

…

After another hour or so, we managed to group our friends into who’s vulnerable and who has a chance of fighting this EMP, and maybe even throwing hands with Ratchet while we’re at it.

Lug, Piper, Cappy, Bigweld, Harvey, Aunt Fan, and myself were most likely to have a chance to fight it off. We figured that Fender, Diesel, Loretta, Wonderbot, and Crank could be the most vulnerable to the signals, so we’d have to prioritize them first. Once we got our friends out of the way, we had to move on to the employee list. There were easily thousands of robots who worked here, maybe even more. It would take us months to sort through them all, so we had to narrow the list down to the robots who had some of the more important jobs such as security and economics. Overall, most of the essential staff were vulnerable, with only a handful having some sort of hypothetical resistance or fighting spirit. Sorting everyone into categories was going to take forever though, so myself and Bigweld would have to sort everyone else when we have more time. I had a suspicion that practically everyone would be affected by this thing.

So we’re pretty scraped at this rate, but it’s cool. This is fine. I'm fine with the events that are currently unfolding.

Bigweld got out from his seat at his desk, and waved a hand. Exhaustion laced his voice. “Alright, we’ve done all we can for right now. Tomorrow, we’ll get everyone on board to help us come up with a plan. For right now, let’s just head home. I bet you’re all exhausted.”

And with that, the meeting was adjourned until tomorrow. He rolled his way to the door, and looked back. “Stay safe, all. Oh, and Rodney, don’t forget to lock up before you leave!”

"Right, will do, sir.” I responded blankly.

I hardly looked up from my computer screen. We barely got anything done. Had we known about this EMP thing earlier, we’d gotten more done. How the hell are we gonna do this? I still have so many questions, and we have no time for answers. The longer we wait, the closer Ratchet gets to completing his “master plan”, whatever that was. Right now, all we know is that he may or may not have some sort of EMP signal. If he really does have one, then how did he get something like that in the first place?! What can we do to block the signal? Wrap some tinfoil hats and put them on our heads? Bigweld mentioned something about having been near one, what happened? Why is he-

“Rodney!”

“Ahh! What’s happening?! Is he here?! Where is he?! Let me at ‘em! I’ll steal his leg!!” Panicked and slightly dazed I started swinging my fists around me, not knowing what was going on. Static had taken a hold of my vision, so I couldn't see clearly.

“No, no, it’s fine! It’s me, Cappy! Calm down!” She carefully slid her hands onto my shoulders, causing me to freeze. I had to rub my eyes to clear the static, how long have I been staring at my computer? How long was I thinking for?

“Sorry, sorry...Um, What were you saying, Caps?”

“I’m heading home," She said again. "Harvey left a couple of minutes ago. Something about a client he had. Did you want to come home with me?”

I thought for a moment, and I really wanted to say yes, but then I remembered how little we got done. Then I thought about how much that needed to be done yet. Then I thought about the possibility of something happening here while we’re gone for the night. What if he tries something tonight? I can’t risk it.

“No, I…I think I’ll stay here for a bit. Just in case.”

She sighed like she normally did when she wasn’t entirely satisfied with an answer, and leaned over the desk. “Alright, but if you need a ride, I’ll come back.”

“It’s fine, I can get home on my own, I can catch a taxi. You head back and get some sleep.”

She smiled a little, which just made me feel worse about leaving her. Regardless, she gave me a kiss and went out the door to the elevator. Leaving me here to myself. I turned back to the screen, and went back to work.

I had a theory, but I have no idea if it’ll work. If the EMP is an electromagnetic signal, then perhaps the Magnetizers could disrupt the signal. Of course, I don’t have a degree in physics or engineering, but I do know someone who does. If this crazy theory of mine is right, then we’d have a shot at taking Ratchet down if this is his plan. As I typed down the theory for tomorrow, I thought about how I could test it without harming anyone or making ourselves look like the bad guys. Robots already see us as some big bad guy, so injuring anyone in another accident would only give Ratchet more leverage. I’ll have to talk to Bigweld about all of this, he’s had more experience with these EMP things then any of us. Even if he’d never interacted with it, he’s our biggest resource right now. I’ll type it down and move on to the list, I’ve got a lot to do before I leave for home.

This is gonna take a while.

[the-firebird69]

and thhe beat goes on of ocourse and trump a isideshow and comedy now. tons say it him out. now. is afool. and theya re at it to make it happen

so back to reality we have several ppl here going to court over the little things they have left a small percentag of land and buldings and factories seven percent. and will lose and will fight and here. and now. and tons of the morlockw ill die. tons andthey will become more onry mean and angry and we will have to be here we do. none of these have hat it takes and it is proven here a lot. tons of times

-there are other folks here not doing well and per thier own statements are going to harrass our son and into their hiosptial and other and stan is one of them loses washingtonand oregon bases and other nearby, lost ten of the twenty mega bases and will lose more as he has a samattering with the others. tons of times you out no but he loses as they do he is a smallone an not prevelant elsewhere. now we say this he is young andis why and true.

-justin falls hard and with a noise and all over and tons of times he is found dead latelly. is weak small and absurd and a pain to our son.

-and ken, he is up for it no dies and sees it finally is usueless and they all sat on the macs and let them feter thought they could waltz in cnnnot and were sseen trying alot failed a lot. and now die. a lot his fatasses all go. and their counter parts too are there no. they pull out the turd kill it. and it is on they say f these idiots they d di this and sat. treu too they are fags. farts a nd low lifes users and losers and ken is a parasite.

-daneil is worse than ever hods on no is wreckess and tries to arrest our son...and he says it makes fun of me and over and over. short guy in the sherrif car. and must be trump goes asks and he says would ya beleive it and he hits him later for real. and it is on due to that. and treu is touchy

-mike tew and he was spent a while ago bases out they work and seek food shetler fuel and at the hoomos pace he means the morlokis shit was shit threatesn our son non stop and it means all threaten ours who threaten him yes

-mac daddy is out and says it cant handle it i have no place soon and that is not good for me no wont do it cant and he has to pay for it and will meaning make itw rok and it does nthign and he continue and court is a afailure back fire yes. and he says this we pour inthey do and we dont use it wont set precedent and it is notright your idiots you mron kids of mine and you helped this happen even he said it ships in the tunnels andthey fall block it so.and nope. are idiots. and says he is right advised us correctly we failed. and they say it cant but ok and we say it your nuts all thse ships laden yuornuts and losers and shit out. he is right youfaggots do the wrong thing by habbit. fn fags sitting inthere fuck you. he is right again a dumb i dea we were ging to die and lose anyways now we are trashas these are you faggots i get ridiculed allday and night by macs it is astupid thing and it is. they wanted it you assholes..die now go leave you suck anywaysall tehe time.

-so they are out and pretty much smoked and smoke now and have ships dont care are useless. these flow in. and wont stop. and if stopped hit. now theycannot do the job now. and are ruined. and stan is an ass and hits his own and more and we do himinshortly. need to.fully too. tons see it no. he does die. and it is on screen. bja is hit as vader yes. and beheaded. and pout back and stan takes over uses it as cover the same outfit. and you can see it and his understudy burns him. and stan loses to bja comes back and hits. and that is the story. and trump uses the characer after bg does. a mess yes.

-sooner not later. it is shortly. goes up and uses heavy. big death stars ruins morlock bases. they fight him. and biden and he is awonder

-biden falls too is small always small sees it we are out shortly and tons are atus and it is these idiots. he does the idea it works. the ohters see it. ad ok garth helps lol

-now that isworkhe is in pain neck pain. and pulled it abit. due to his condition. now we help but this sucks here.

they hit big. and face the morlck and fo once and for all. take them down. and cant. lose. are attacked. stan tries tofool ppl and is pout in the museum gets out hits bja. and becomes darth vader and dies after tossing biden intot he pwoer source. he survives. and is the senator palpatine. and says his grandson did it. no. stan did. and would not let him tried to get himinot that empire and biden said no. so disagreed. and biden heard it. ad ok true so....

-and tons of times watch out for them no me ok bye and true.

-morlock prep to hit the rest of the psuedo empire bunkers. tons of times. and until out and then they hit the macs. live here with thepsuedo empire. lose died too last night

forty went out. and are at 100. and ten more stayed. same cews lol no of course not. scott johnson no. it was peter mclaughlin no. he is here but slated to go by others here. yes his own too heard it too. we fight but aweful here. now we see it too no have.

a few he knew not well. a couple from st john and were not preveleant and abused him. and teh sametwo at wneteoth and not known. dead now. five trumpsters out. seven bja and four mnority morlock. seven misc. and five of them were clsose to cammila and a few more bja and trump. yes. but they died saying aweful things about ouor son were puore losers and fell for simple tricksin the field. died laughing we do this and are out. sped back this way in a frantic frenxy thier trucks hit trees crumpled and esploded each five trucks andyeh not tons of folkl noboard. and five more fled fast and one out fo those broe off and krept away andsouth was hit by air forces not held off due to bja yelling it and to suppor the ground forces. and he is an animal andstupid.

it is over for both morlock well all morlock and here soon. out. but only after the engage the empire which rots and tommy f who dwindles. now too. they start and in after psuedo empire to get them out of the way and call.

the south 1000 is smaller about 4.5 % shurnk and they sit and wait for the order to attakc the cavern will die doing it. build up. and to attack. the psuedo empire ships watch. in horror do nohting. are idiots. ok. the bunkers are under attack there too shortly. elsewhere huge forces built up and start shortly and in the eastern hemisphere yes. soon.

tons of bunkers and lots of annouucnements

we publish now

Thor Freya

Zues Hera

Olympus

[bellgravelonepieceoc]

First Name: Bell

Middle Name: None

Last Name:  Gravel

Nickname: Pebbles, Rock head, Gargoyle

Pirate Name: The Gargoyle

Gender: Female

Age: 30 (xan change for rp)

Birthday: April 13

Sexual Orientation: Straight

Species: Human devil fruit eater

Appearance: Bell has eaten a devil fruit so she now has light blue green scales and long sharp claws. She has a long very strong thick super flexible teal blue tail like an aligators without the spikes and two large bat like wings that are very strong and teal colored. She has big claw tipped feet and bright white moon like eyes and fangs. Small but hard and sharp horns on her forehead.

She can turn human for a short period of time but the transformation hurts and takes a lot of her energy.

Art credit: imvu avatar app

Height: 6 foot

Hair Color: A teal blue green gradient

Eyes Color: moon white and shiny

Skin Tone: Very pale in her human form but usually has teal blue green scales on her face neck arms hands legs feet tail and wings.

Birthmarks: None

Tattoos: A burn mark of the marine logo on her upper right thigh

Scars: the burn scar from the marine logo, several across her chest back and abdomen from years of training and fighting and abuse and one gun shot wound near her right collar

Personality: Bell is kind hearted and sweet once you get to know her. She is faithful and protective of her friends and animals and children and anyone who is in need. She loves music and playing games. At first she's always shy and weary of anyone because of her past so she will not trust you and will try to mostly keep to herself. She can often be seen sitting in high places and quietly cries to herself. She always secretly feels alone and ugly and unwanted due to her looks but she puts on a smile and tries not to show anyone her true inner sadness.

Favorite Color: Purple, black, blue

Likes: food, music, animals, sailing, the sea, sea monsters , myths, legends, drinking, stealing, taking care of others, hot guys, zoro, sanji, hawks, kid, ace, shanks, doflamingo, law, smoaker

Dislikes: marines, not being able to swim, being abandoned, fire, feeling alone, bullies, bad guys, storms, lies, liers, cigarette smoke

Fears: Dieing alone, never finding anyone to love her, being abandoned, being shot, braking her wings, being tied up against her will

Hobbies: playing music, singing, flying, sky dancing, wood carving, sharp shooting, stealing, playing tricks and telling bad jokes, training

Relationships:

Family : none

Mother: unknown

Father: unknown pirate

Siblings: none

Friends: straw hat pirates

Love interest: (depends on the roleplay but she likes these guys.) zoro, sanji, hawks, kid, ace, shanks, doflamingo, law

Rivals: usop for best sharp shooter.

Enemies: the marines

Other:

Bounty: None yet

Pirate crew or Marine and position: straw hat pirates

Ship name: the going mary

Devil fruit: yes

Name: ???

Type : Mythical Zoan

Powers: Transforms the eater into a type of mythical animal. In bell's case it was a Gargoyle. She is able to harden her scales to be as strong as any kind of stonevshe eats. The harder the material the harder her scales but the lesser amount of time she can maintain it. She can also controle rocks of various types with her mind.

Weapons: mostly long range weapons like cannons, pistols, guns, bolders she can throw, anything long ranged. She also has her teeth tail and claws. A long sword.

Backstory: Bell was abandoned as a baby at an orphanage run by the government. She was raised by kind but poor people In a big city where people were to greedy to help out the less fortunate. The orphanage needed a lot of help and hardly managed to take care of the children, to make things worse if they couldn't pay taxes the marines would take the oldest children as payment and force them to join.

Bell grew up and realized this was wrong so from the age of 5 she began stealing. At first it was small things to help the others servive. Little bags of apples here a small bag of gold from some ones pocket there than when she grew older she learned to trick people with slide of hand and mis direction. She made sure there was always enough money to pay the taxes so no child was ever taken by the marines ever again.

It worked out well untill she was caught at the age of ten. Everyone in the city knew of the ten year old thief but couldn't catch her so the marines instead threatened to take all the kids in the orphanage if she didn't give herself up so she did. At 13 Bell was forced into the marines and faced 10 years service. She was abused as a cabin boy and forced to work the dirty jobs and slave over peeling potatoes as well as training like all other marines. She became good with long distance weapons and hand to hand combat.

In all her time with the marines she continued to steal and be a trouble maker to the marines. She refused to hurt anyone or kill anyone so she was often punnished. Eventually she was sent to sea in her 23 year and that's when the cruel caption branded the marine symbol into her right thigh. She was forever scarred thanks to that and filled with even more hate.

Thankfully fate took her away from that life but not for a better one. One day a massive storm carried the ship she was on to close to the waters that border the grand line and because the storm damaged the ship to badly the marines could not get away from an attacking pirate ship. Bell refused to fight the pirates and was locked in the storage room for mutiny but while she was trapped inside all the marines were murdered and the ship looted. Unfortunately she was left behind locked in the storage room unable to escape when the pirates blew the ship to pieces. She was lucky to servive by clinging to some floating crates.

These crates had a little food in it including a mysterious box the marines had locked away in the storage room. It was some big secret the marines had been transporting but it didn't make it. While bell floated in the sea and did her best to ration the little food she had left and finally washed ashore on an island. She made herself a shelter and was able to care for herself just fine but she made the mistake of opening the mystery box and inside it was a fruit so strange looking she almost didn't want to eat it. It was hard as a rock so she cracked it open like a coconut and ate the terrible tasting thing. Hours later she passed out and from that day on she never looked human again. What she had eaten turned out to be a devil fruit.

Bell was 26 when she ate the fruit and was stranded on the island. Every day she trains with her new powers and gets stronger but she longs to escape some day.

Theme songs:

Outfits: for a while she wears rags while she's on the island. When she's rescued she is finally able to get clothing that fits and she wears anything that let's her wings and tail remain free. Below is her human form.

[skyfae22]

“She hasn’t been herself lately.” Yuri thought as she shambled up the manor’s grand staircase to their shared room. Ever since the housewarming party two weeks ago, Skylark had been acting odd; almost like an entirely different person. When they were in school together, Sky was outgoing and cheerful. Now that they were roommates, she was a recluse. 

Yuri figured it was just because of the house. It had to be. She couldn’t imagine what Skylark was going through. She hadn’t been back to the house since the fire when she was 10. Both of her adoptive parents burned alive.

The Romanov, wisp of a girl finally arrived to the light blue door and knocked gently. “Sky? It’s lunchtime. I made tomato soup and grilled cheese for everyone. I can bring some up if you’d like or you can come downstairs with me to eat with everyone.”

“Did I ever tell you about the night my parents died?’ A small elvish like voice called from a lump of blankets on one of the four poster beds. The lump morphed into a ghost that scooted off the bed. “Not my original parents. I’m not ready to talk about them. The Alouettes who gave me my name, my company, and my brother. I’ve been thinking about them a lot lately. Ever since the party, I’ve been wanting to tell someone about what really happened that night.” The girl sighed.

Yuri stood in silence for a little while pondering about how she should answer. She had heard rumors that foul play was involved there was never any evidence to suggest it being so. At least none brought about to the public. The fire was ruled an accident and that was that. A very large life insurance policy on Mr. Alouette had been placed a few months prior but the only beneficiaries were Mrs. Alouette and the children. There were conspiracy theories and things of that nature but that’s all they ever were. Theories. Yuri sat down on one of the plush black bean bags. “I don’t think so. I’m willing to listen if you want to tell me.”

There was a long pause, a sneeze, and then finally a reply.”All right.” The ghost blanket monster shuffled its way towards Yuri and sat down on the day bed next to the bean bags. More like plopped since it was a bit hard to get well adjusted covered in 4 blankets. “Ciel, who was eight, and I were sharing a room at the time when he woke me up crying about wetting the bed so he wanted to get Mom and Dad. I agreed since I had no idea where the maid who watched over us while we slept went. I didn’t even know how to use a phone. We were walking to the other wing of the house when we started to smell smoke so we raced to our parents to try and figure out what was going on. When we got there, the door was already open. I should’ve had Ciel stay in the room but I didn’t know that we were going to see what we were going to see. Blood was splattered around the room. Some had even gotten on the ceiling somehow. A candle had caught some of curtains on fire and they were now spreading. Mother and Father were both gasping for air. Someone had beaten them to death. Or tried to. Their bodies lay writhing in pools of their own blood while their flesh burned off slowly and painfully. Their blood starting to boil as the fire touched it. I quickly pulled Ciel away but the damage was already done. We gathered what we could and went to find the gardener who lived on the grounds. By the time the firefighters and police arrived, half the manor was engulfed as if somebody had spread lighter fluid everywhere.” There was a pause as the figure took a breath and looked out in reflection of the events.

“I found out from Aunt Red that our head butler did it. He had sent all the servants to a hotel for the night as a thank you for all their hard work. What utter fucking bullshit. He killed my parents. He was going to kill us too. That’s what Auntie said. They found a manifesto of sorts describing his hatred towards the entire family and how he had finally snapped. It ended with a detailed plan of what he was going to do. The only reason he wasn’t able to finish the job was because our dog, Sebastion, attacked him. Unfortunately, the butler overpowered the dog but not before being bitten numerous times.” The blob trailed off.

Yuri sat in shock. She had never known any of this. Not even an inkling. She only could muster up one question, “Did it mess up you or Ciel at all?”

The mass of blankets chuckled. “My brother had nightmares until he turned ten. He completely lost it then. We had to send him to a mental asylum until he was almost 14. He kept talking about demon butlers, a magically strong gardener, a sniper dressed as a maid, and a crazy chef. He would just go on and on about their adventures. He even said he had a twin and that he wasn’t actually Ciel. It was a crazy three and a half years. Me on the other hand. That’s for another time.”

The bathroom door creaked open and out popped Skylark wearing a light blue bathrobe. “Hey, Yuri! Who are you talking to? I heard someone else in here with you and just assumed you were on the phone and put it on speaker.”

The purple haired girl looked from Skylark to the day bed then back again. “I-uh-umm. Yes. Sorry about that. I just came to tell you that lunch is ready.”

“Yum. Just let me get dressed. By the way, why are all my blankets over there? I could’ve sworn they were on my bed before I stepped into the shower. One of the maids must’ve moved them.”

While the young lady of the house put on some jeans and a t-shirt, Yuri wondered what had just transpired. The thing in the blankets had sounded just like the blue-eyed, pink haired CEO. Exactly like her. She tried to shake off the weird occurrence as she and Sky headed downstairs for breakfast.

[cynthiaandsamus]

Custom Toonami Block Week 105 Rundown

Inuyasha: The gang is still at Renkotsu’s shrine thing and because Renkotsu’s playing 5D chess here he actually stole a living monk’s clothes AND buried people to mix Inuyasha’s nose up enough between the scent of life and death and whatever incense he has Shippo and Kirara smoking that he actually bullshits his way through the conversation and catches Inuyasha completely off-guard. Apparently Naraku didn’t give the Band of Seven the memo and just told Bankotusu ‘idk guys just kill Inuyasha and take the jewel shards’ and after Inuyasha tells Renkotsu about Naraku he rightly decides Naraku is the shadiest person in the world and not to trust him. Meanwhile Ginkotsu’s back and all being Wind Scar’d into a hole did was annoy him really Inuyasha takes him down AGAIN but Renkotsu’s already set fire to the shrine with everybody inside, not really capitalizing all that well on taking Inuyasha by surprise but they do have a neat little fight where Renkotsu and Ginkotsu have Inuyasha tied up in a tug of war between them on the stairs. Also Jakotsu fights Koga but nothing much comes of that since Koga’s moveset is specifically designed to not get fucked up by fast attacks and once he hears Kagome’s going to die he books it out of there. Inuyasha takes out Ginkotsu for like the 3rd-4th time this time with a direct Wind Scar and the guy STILL ISN’T DEAD like the strike that can kill a hundred demons seems to be having a huge problem taking out one metal boi. Renkotsu’s kinda pissed that Inuyasha ignores him to go save his friends but he has the 411 on Naraku and Kagome’s jewel shards so he’s good with carrying the 25% of Ginkotsu that’s left back home. Turns out Shippo was actually able to block the regular fire with his Fox Fire which I’m not a fireologist so I guess that works so nobody burned to death but the poison’s taken over so Kagome, Sango and Miroku have all stopped breathing, so show’s over I guess, see you guys next week for Yashahime with Inuyasha’s kid with… some girl.

Yu Yu Hakusho: So yeah, this it, the big one, the heavy episode. The Death of Genkai, it really kinda makes me laugh how little they do to hide that’s what’ll happen in this episode, like obviously Genkai doesn’t intend on throwing the fight with Toguro and we have a mountain of foreshadowing that it’ll happen but they just fucking named the episode that to remove all doubt. But yeah this episode is pretty cool as we’re drip-fed Genkai and Toguro’s backstory with small snippets during Genkai’s desperate fight against Current!Toguro and only get the full picture once Genkai reveals it to Yusuke on her deathbed. Toguro basically had Lysandre’s mindset from Pokemon and is like ‘man old people suck so much’ which seems to be a running theme for the arc. And instead getting old and bowing out gracefully once he and Genkai won the Dark Tournament he wished to become a demon which Genkai is understandably pissed about (though idk it’s not like demons in this series are literal evil we see a lot of them are chill dudes so him ‘selling his soul’ seems to be less about actually being a demon and more about the corrupting influence his obsession with youth and power had on his soul) Idk how Elder Toguro factors into this but I assume he was also on the old Team Toguro and when his younger brother made the wish he was like ‘sure, ditto’ and Genkai was just like ‘Oh my fucking god I knew you two were gonna pull this shit, none of you ever talk to me again’ and presumably Genkai and Toguro fight and Genkai beats him since it seems to mirror the final shot of their present-day fight exept this time Toguro wins and punches a hole in her. But after their past fight no one bothers her until the Dark Tournament committee is like ‘Hey Genkai I know you said never to talk to you again buuuut we’re blackmailing your pupil into fighting and he’ll prolly die without your help bye’ and it’s really kind of a cool message because Genkai found a way to continue living through Yusuke while Toguro is obsessed with physically staying alive forever himself, ever since she was introduced Genkai’s philosophy has been passing down techniques makes them stronger and she urges Yusuke to not be afraid of the fight against time because it’s the only way people really find their place and share things with each other and if you keep hiding from it and want just yourself to persist you close yourself off from what you can give to and receive from others just like Genkai was able to give Yusuke her wisdom and was in turn surprised by the kind of purpose and joy she was able to find in training and connecting with him.

Fate Extra: This episode probably has one of the highest Navelgazing/Plot Actually Happening ratios in Fate which is saying quite a lot. Nero and Hakuno are sent down to the bottom of Moon!SAO and Moon!Kayaba’s all ‘man you guys suck’ but Hakuno finds a bookmark left by F!Hakuno which legit just acts as a savestate and lets them go straight back to the fight. Hakuno does a lot of wishy washy bullshit but says ‘fuck it, got nothing better to do, might as well save humanity’ even if it kills him which honestly if he doesn’t save humanity won’t the Moon Halo just kill everyone anyway? Doesn’t seem like much of a choice. They get back and Hakuno basically burns up his own body to just dump as much mana as he can into Nero (giggity) as he can and Leo’s all ‘the fuck dude why you wanna save humanity?’ which is a question that gets asked surprisingly often in the Fate series like the answer should be obvious, for most people would be like ‘sure humanity not dying would be great’ Apparently Discount Kayaba told Leo that even if he used the Magic Moon Cup he could only prolong humanity’s end and Leo’s like ‘well fuck that, let’s everyone just die’ so Hakuno’s like ‘that’s objectively the wrong choice in that situation’ and Nero cuts through Gawai’s Sun Getsuga Tensho and it’s pretty cool, Nero uses her Unlimited Coliseum Works to press the insta-win button but Gawain sets fire to it before she can form it and you know what happens when you set a fire in front of Emperor Nero? Nero Lets Rome Burn and because of the sacrifice of her Noble Phantasm she’s just allowed to channel it all into one hit and take it out, defeating the fatalism of stagnation with the desire to live through sacrifice which is pretty neat thematically for all the shit I give Fate for being pretentious. Anyway time to fight Moon!Kayaba and his Space Whales or whatever the final boss of the moon is.

Bakemonogatari: It’s the final episode! Black Hanekawa’s basically like “Okay, two options, you dump Hitagi and go out with Hanekawa, you two bang and you’ll never hear from me again, or option two, I fucking murder you.” Which idk how murdering the guy she has a crush on will REDUCE Hanekawa’s stress, like in the long run I guess so if she manages to get over him but right away that might just be enough stress to short circuit her. I like how fucking long it takes Araragi to take Hanekawa liking him seriously like he has just not adapted to the whole harem protagonist thing yet. But yeah he rightfully points out that 1. He’s kind of a masochist so he’s actually grown to really like Hitagi and 2. Breaking up with her to go out with Hankeawa just to stop a serial killer cat spirit from murdering him isn’t exactly the best way to start a healthy relationship, which are both fair points. So Black Hanekawa goes for Option 2 and just straight up decides to murder him but he’s a vampire so even for an energy-absorbing murder cat that’s not exactly an easy task. (Also idk where we actually get the story for what happened with Araragi vs Shinobu to turn him into a vampire but we get constant references to it and I was kind of hoping for the full flashback but it didn’t pan out so I’m hoping it’s not just in the books or in a movie that’s only for Japan or something). She says the only way for him to survive now if someone from his harem comes to save him since he’s helped enough people to have a karmic debt anyway, but he says everyone he’s helped over the course of the series has saved themselves rather than him really saving them, but there isn’t exactly anything he can personally do to beat her so he does the only thing he can to save himself on his own… he asks for help. I think that’s pretty cool honestly, the whole series has had a theme of the only way for the hosts to beat their apparitions is to acknowledge their weaknesses that caused the curses in the first place and in Araragi’s case that’s always been him diving into things to help someone else without regard for his own safety and feeling overly indebted to anyone that helps him, so the contradiction is the only thing he can do to be self-sufficient is ask for help. He learns he can’t do everything on his own and at the same time that his life matters because if he were to die he’d upset the very people he’s trying to help, it’s a really cool way to bring his character full circle the more I think about it, it’s like the exact opposite of Shirou’s character arc from UBW where he’s a self-sacrificing asshole and is validated for it. Anyway because he calls out to Shinobu, apparently she’s just been living in his shadow this whole time because that’s apparently something she can just do and she punts Black Hanekawa and succs the cat right out of her. Araragi gets the gang back together one more time to find Oshino’s gone and has left the care of future apparitions in Araragi’s hands and also Shinobu’s just gonna chill out in Araragi’s shadow from now on like some kind of demon loli peter pan shit. Overall I really liked this show, there was a lot of shit that got on my nerves particularly with Nadeko’s arc and the weird loli shit this show pulls sometimes and in general some of the harem vibes are weird but it’s a lot less egregious than some other shows and there was some great character work here, a lot of fun the whole way through and I’m glad I watched it. That being said I know the second season is on Funimation too but I’mma hold off on that for now and take a bit of a break shortening down the block next week. Between Sailor Moon, Fate and Monogatari I’ve got a lot of shows ending back to back so I’m going to let the block shrink down a bit for a few weeks until all those shows end and decide what new stuff I want to watch from there, sort of rebuild the block from scratch and decide how much time I want to devote to this each week instead of feeling like I have to fill out seven shows just because.

Sailor Moon Crystal: Only three more episodes left in this series too, looks like we’re speeding right along! Evil!Hotaru has the Inner Guardians in barriers and shit and the black goo shit is gonna do stuff to the planet except the Outer Guardians make a rainbow anti-goo barrier to keep it inside but basically can’t do anything else in the meantime. Sailor Moon tris to fight Evil!Hotaru but it doesn’t work and so Evil!Hotaru is like ‘okay fuck it, having a human body sucks, gonna molt’ and Sailor Moon’s like ‘Oh no, Hotaru’s body, she needs that to live and shit’ and Hotaru jams Evil!Hotaru back in like ‘oh no you don’t I need that to live and shit’ but because Evil!Hotaru is powered by the Legendary Silver Crystal she’s like ‘fine I’ll just rip everything out’ but Hotaru cuts off her connection to the crystal and guards Chibi-Usa’s soul so Evil!Hotaru has to grab the Inner Guardians’ souls for more soul juice but Hotaru grabs their souls as she’s swallowing so Evil!Hotaru’s like ‘oh come on I stole those souls fair and square’ so now Hotaru knows if she leaves she can give everyone their souls back and get Chibi-Usa her Silver Crystal back but if she does Evil!Hotaru’s gonna molt off her body which, again, she needs to live and shit. Hotaru does the selfless thing, reflecting on how she’s never had the strength or determination to protect anyone before but she met and loved Chibi-Usa and wants to protect her even if she’s basically already dead. She yeets everyone’s soul out of her body and goes to see Chibi-Usa and give her her crystal but gets molted before they can touch and it’s really kind of genuinely fucking sad. Like I don’t have any particular confidence in this series to have the balls to kill someone off for real after Pluto (come to think of it Pluto was also into Chibi-Usa, this is basically the same arc all over again) but the way it’s executed is pretty good and sad and maybe it’s just because my friend who died recently’s favorite character was Hotaru but it legit made me really sad to watch. Chibi-Usa is pissed and she and Tuxedo Mask go to fight the goo creature and she gets her own Moon Chalice which you’d think would split up the powers of the guardians stored within so they’d each be half-super but I guess it doesn’t work like that and it just multiplies so they’re both Super Sailor/Chibi Moonses.

Durararax2: Everyone’s still trying to figure out what to do about Ruri’s cat and also her stalker but mostly the cat. We get a little backstory on said stalker being the son of one of Ruri’s sponsors who she murdered (no hard feelings he’s just yandere) and how Ruri basically got yoinked up by Yodogiri for being a Wolverine Speed-healing freak with super strength who just also happened to be good at practical effects and idoling and killed her dad and made her turn into a movie makup-themed serial killer. They have some kind of Eyes Wide Shut party cutting her open and watching her heal back up and I’m not sure if there’s any scientific endgame to that or if it’s just rich people being assholes as they’re want to do. Mikado has a totally not sketchy at all conversation with Kadota about how since the Dollars are freedom then he’s free to force people to not be free and Dota-chin’s just like ‘Oh god I’m watching a villain arc right now aren’t I?” Ruri tells Kasuka about his past and he’s like “Maybe give me the info dump when you’re not being stalked like I love you and wanna find out about you but if you’re only telling me in the hopes I’ll validate your past you might wanna work yourself out first before coming to me with that shit’ which is kinda harsh but understandable I guess. They call Mika over for a security check and she breaks into Celty’s house in like five seconds and it’s hilarious. Learning nothing from this Shinra opens the door a bit later and gets decked by the stalker who proceeds to beat the shit out of him because he wants to attack everyone Ruri knows so he can break her spirit before he does whatever he’s gonna do to her.

[jaeheewillalwaysbemyfav]

Can u make mc is the actual owner of Cerberus when he was a pup but villagers killed him because they thought that he was a monster and what how would the brothers and the undateable react to that when mc started to cry when she saw Cerberus headcanons

Oh Beans! I totally spaced when reading this and only have the brothers.

I'll post what I have here right now, but this will also be on AO3, so if you keep checking/subscribe there, you'll get a notification when I've added the undateables! It might not be for a while though, since I'm about to start school again ^-^;;

Who's a Good Boy?

The Guard Dog of the House of Hades. A vicious, three-headed hellhound that only the fallen Morningstar himself could command. Unfathomably massive. Devourer of demons, angels, and humans alike. Notoriously difficult to groom.

That is Cerberus, Lucifer’s extremely volatile pet named after a figure from Greek mythology for reasons no one truly understands. The creature has struck fear into the hearts of its housemates, and the Devildom at large, for what feels like ages.

So when MC cries upon seeing the wolf-dog for the first time, none of the brothers are especially surprised. How could a human cross such a monster’s path and live, after all?

Except those who weep in fear usually don’t then barrel full-tilt into one of the monster’s furry legs, babbling incoherently about how they thought they’d never see him again.

One of Cerberus’ heads leans down to the human, and the brothers panic, fearing the worst. It opens its mouth, revealing razor sharp fangs—

And licks MC’s entire body in a saliva-filled canine kiss. Now covered in tears and drool, MC laughs as they shake themself off, teasing the hellhound by saying that they already showered today, thank you very much.

“So, did you miss me as much as I missed you?” they ask, giving Cerberus’ central head some under the chin scritches (the only part of its head they can currently reach).

Cerberus boofs loudly, enormous tail waving back and forth at an increasingly hazardous pace.

Lucifer

What.

Lucifer is dealing with a Lot right now. He almost lost the exchange student to his own dog, except apparently Cerberus used to belong to MC?! How?!

He orders Cerberus to back away from the human, part of him still convinced that this is somehow a combination of MC being mistaken and Cerberus playing with its food, but the hellhound actually growls at him and picks MC up by the back of their shirt, tossing them onto its back.

MC, in response, finds new places to scritch.

He stares at the scene for a few minutes, unable to process what his life has become.

Later, once Cerberus finally agrees to let MC leave, they explain to him that Cerberus used to be a puppy in the human world.

Obviously, he was immediately noted as strange due to his three heads, and the people of MC’s village believed him to be an omen of death. MC themself didn’t care, and just saw “lil’ Cerb” as a puppy like any other, albeit an exceptionally drooly one.

He used to be more or less normal dog-sized, but it quickly became obvious that Cerberus was growing fast, and would be much larger than even a wolf by the time he was done. He also became harder and harder to hide.

Unfortunately, one night they awoke to poor Cerberus being chased out into the night by a mob, never to return.

They assumed the worst, mourned, and got on with their life as best as they could. But seeing Cerberus— they knew it was the same dog as soon as they saw him — brought all those emotions right back to the surface.

It’s not hard to adapt to these strange circumstances. Lucifer is actually quite relieved to have someone who is both willing and able to safely help him in caring for Cerberus, and both MC and the hellhound delight in each other’s company.

Lucifer also won’t deny the pride he feels upon seeing MC, the one he loves, getting along so well with his son dog.

Mammon

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

The P A N I C of seeing MC within bite-chomp-murder-kill distance of Cerberus nearly killed Mammon.

What the hell is he supposed to do against that furball?! MC’s dead meat, a chew toy, he can’t save them again—

WHAT THE FUCK ARE THEY D O I N G ? !

Torn between passing out from fear and yelling about how brave and cool HIS human is!

So he kinda just… stands there, slack-jawed, as MC finds a spot on the creature that makes it thump its leg so hard the ground shakes.

Already he’s cooking up ways to use MC’s Cerberus-taming powers to get into all kinds of Shenanigans

Except he quickly learns that while Cerb is much more gentle with MC, it won’t let them distract it from its duties.

Has this resulted in MC semi-unwillingly riding Cerberus as it chases a terrified Mammon throughout the Devildom? Possibly~

Though when MC explains to Mammon how Cerberus used to be their dog, and what had happened to him… He can’t help but feel a touch more sympathetic to the hellhound.

Only a little bit though. It still does try and tear him apart whenever he gets too close, after all.

Leviathan

Levi’s fear metamorphoses into awe much faster than the others’. MC LOOKS SO COOL!! Riding the mighty Cerberus like a steed!

He desperately wishes he had the art skills to capture this iconic moment forever. But alas, a camera will have to do.

It’s a pretty good picture, the comparatively small human sitting on Cerberus’ back like something straight out of a fantasy novel. Levi even has a shot of them accidentally scritching a spot that makes Cerberus breathe fire (like a furry dragon!)

100% gets super emotional when MC tells him how they originally had— and lost— Cerberus as a puppy. It reminds him of his precious Henry 1.0 in some ways…

Begs MC to let him post the photos he took, along with their story as the caption. It’s just too good! It’s exactly like that arc in My Adventurer Boyfriend Keeps Adopting the Monsters He Beats in Combat and Now We’re Running Out of Space to Keep Them!

Like Mammon, Levi also quickly learns that just because he unlocked Cerberus’ tragic backstory, doesn’t mean that the hellhound will treat him any differently.

But sometimes, after a long “walk” with MC, the massive creature will be mostly asleep. And then, his hand shaking, MC will guide Levi to pet Cerberus’ flank. Its tail swishes softly, Levi’s own swaying in response.

Satan

He shakes his head and laughs, torn between relief, awe, shock, and lingering horror for MC’s safety. Of course they can tame even the ferocious Cerberus…

Guess all sorts of angry monsters like MC, huh?

He definitely wants to hear the story of MC owning Cerberus in the past, but first he’s going to drink in the absolutely dumbfounded expression on Lucifer’s face.

Toooootally doesn’t cry upon hearing MC’s story with Cerberus. No way, he’s still a cat person, he swears!

...No one is allowed to comment on Satan’s various burn injuries that occur over the next few weeks.

Not if they don’t want to be left with worse.

Asmodeus

OH SHIT!! Also, ewwwww

Once the fear for MC’s safety subsides, Asmo can appreciate the cuteness and hilarity that is MC with Cerberus. Truly no one is immune to their charms it seems, and their affections know no bounds.

...Is it that same quality that allows MC to continue to care for him and his brothers despite their past actions?

Asmo claims that the smoke from Cerberus’ fire breath is getting into his eyes, prompting him to leave. He has a good long stare-at-a-wall crisis for a bit.

Learning MC and Cerberus’ story only makes him mushier. Their tragedy got a happy ending after all!

As much as he loves MC’s charms, he still insists that they de-drool themself before touching him or any of his things. It stinks like brimstone!

Now if they need any help getting clean… That he can oblige~

Beelzebub

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH part 2

As one of the physically stronger brothers, when Lucifer’s not available it’s Beel’s job to groom Cerberus. He knows how dangerous that mutt is.

But apparently not for MC “Knows No Fear” over there!

As Cerberus continues to remain docile in MC’s presence, Beel starts to appreciate the cuteness of a human and their giant hellhound.

Unabashedly mushy upon hearing MC’s story about Cerberus. The themes of losing a loved one, only to find them much later in a new form… it kinda hits a little close to home for him.

(It’s not a perfect analogy: Beel knows MC isn’t Lilith, but having them as part of her legacy is undeniably cathartic. It’s why he doesn’t share these exact feelings with them, since he knows they’re uncomfortable with being compared to her excessively. Still, he can’t help but note the comparison.)

Naturally, he’s also very happy to have a very useful partner for grooming Cerberus. That living nightmare turns into an overgrown puppy whenever MC’s around. It’s much easier, and much safer, to work with this way.

Plus, it means he gets some quality time with MC! And there’s nothing quite like the fond smiles they share with him during these moments.

Belphegor

He has got to be dreaming. No way is this actually happening— nope, Mammon just stepped on his foot, and that hurt, he’s awake.

WHAT THE FUCK?!

Does MC not fear death? Is that it? Did that part of their brain just completely shut down when he killed them?!

Unlike the others, he can’t really shut down his panic. Sure, right now Cerberus is acting all cuddly, but that could change on a dime. That dog only listens to Lucifer, and right now all Lucifer is doing is staring gormlessly at it!!!

He nearly loses his hand trying to pull MC away from the creature (which it naturally did Not appreciate).

“Belphie, wait! It’s okay,” MC reassures him even as smoke blows out of Cerberus’ nostrils.

They explain their history with the hellhound, how they rescued it as a puppy and then lost it to the angry and frightened people of their village.

Belphegor can’t help but recall their expression when he told them about his imprisonment, the outrage there mingling with a much older emotion. Is that why they were so quick to help him?

He’s still wary of Cerberus. He refuses to be fooled by any facades the creature may be putting up.

But one day, MC invites him to one of their “playdates”. Cerberus watches him like a hawk, growling when he first approaches, but MC just shushes and soothes the monster until it allows him closer.

And maybe, after a few tense minutes, the pair begin to relax around each other.

And maybe, Lucifer has a picture of MC and Belphegor curled up in Cerberus’ fur as the three take a mid-afternoon nap.

And maybe, Belphegor lets him keep it.

[whimsicallyreading]

For Rowaelin Month day 17

 “A sick day”

CW- PTSD, mentions of violence

Aelin considered herself a fortunate person.

She has survived genocide, her family's murders, losing loved ones, slavery, torture, and the Great War. Now she is a queen, a mother, a beloved Mate.

Her life had changed since those bleak days where she'd wondered if she would ever escape captivity—the days when Aelin didn't know if she would ever be free or find love again. Every morning she woke up curled into Rowan's side, and while she drank her morning tea, Aelin could count on her young daughter snuggling into her lap.

Yes, she was swamped most days, but that was normal for a queen. But even the moments between boring meetings brimmed with life and laughter. Rowan's hand on her thigh beneath the table. Fenrys' theatrics when conversation spiraled off-topic. And even the hardened lords thought it was hilarious when their three-year-old princess barged into councils and demanded her mother's attention.

Her family gathered for dinners at the end of every day. Aelin's little family, Fenrys, Emrys, and Malakai were the regular attendees. Aedion, Lysandra, Elide, and Lorcan joined when they were present. It was a time reserved for family only, and it was by far Aelin's favorite part of the day.

Aelin had a good life now. Her family was growing, and her country thrived beneath her rule.

So it always took her by surprise when a bad day came.

She had woken up fine. Delly had slammed open the chamber door with a gust of wind and squirmed herself between her and Rowan in the early morning. Usually, Aelin treasured the moments when her daughter joined them, but being pregnant again had taken a toll on her sleep.

Rowan tried to stop their child before she entirely collapsed onto Aelin but was a moment too slow. Delly flopped onto her mother's chest in a disarray of wrinkled nightgown and golden curls. Soft sobs were sputtering out of the tiny figure.

I'm sorry. Rowan whispered into her thoughts. He knew how hard pregnancy was on her and took his mate's comfort very seriously. It troubled him that their toddling daughter woke Aelin so abruptly.

Aelin blinks the sleep from her eyes and sends him a happy smile to assure him everything is fine.

"What's wrong, Dell?" Aelin soothes a hand up her baby's quaking form.

Adelia sniffles harder, unable to talk through the tears. She'd started to have bad dreams in recent weeks, but never had she been so inconsolable.

Aelin shifts as Adelia's arms tighten uncomfortably around her bump. Rowan sees her discomfort and reaches around to pull Dell to him instead, but it is met with resistance.

"No," Adelia finally wails. "Mama. I want Mama."

Rowan frowns. Adelia was a daddy's girl to the bone, and this was the first time she'd ever refused to go to him. Their daughter squeezes harder and burrows her face into Aelin's torso.

"Dell," Rowan leans next to her and whispers, a cool breeze brushing against her flushed cheek. "What's wrong little love?"

Adelia lifts her head, and Aelin's heart contracts painfully. Her cheeks are red and swollen from the intensity of her crying, little sobs still stumbling from her chest as Rowan settles her down enough to speak.

"Mama was gone. She was hurt, and she couldn't see me." Dell sniffles, her green eyes glassy. "Can you see me, Mama?"

Aelin tugs her daughter in closer, unable to stand the sight of her so sad. "Yes, of course, I can. I'm right here."

"You were in a box. She wouldn't let me see you," Adelia whimpers in a small voice. "She told me she was gonna keep you. I don't want you to go, Mama."

Aelin's face blanches. It wasn't possible. Her little baby couldn't possibly have seen what was coming to her mind. She looks at Rowan, and his face is pinched with worry.

"It's not real, Dell." Rowan uses a thumb to wipe the tears off her cheek.

Adelia flinches. "Uncle Ress told me it was. He told me Mama had got stollen and put into a box by the bad lady and that she should have stayed there."

Aelin's heart stops. Nausea crawls up her throat, and Rowan tugs Adelia away just in time for her to crawl out of bed and gag into a potted plant. The sickness grips Aelin, the shudders in her arms only growing worse with her daughter's mumbled cries.

"Daddy, I want Mama to stay here." Rowan hushes her and murmurs quiet reassurances. "Don't let her get stollen."

Ress had said that? In front of her daughter? Aelin tries to close her eyes against the visions creeping into her mind. The places her scars used to be ache, and her hands pulse with the remembered pain of reconstruction.

The baby in her womb squirms under its mother's stress, and Aelin throws up again.

She should have stayed there.

Cairn brings the hammer down onto her frail knees, the ringing of cracking bone splits the air.

She should have stayed there.

Aelin opens her eyes to endless darkness. Sweet smoke wafts through invisible holes and sends her to sleep- leaving her mind vulnerable to Maeve's manipulations.

She should have stayed there.

More and more memories swarm behind her eyelids until a pair of grounding arms wrap around her shoulders.

"Fireheart, you are home. You are safe. Can you breathe with me?" Rowan sighs loudly behind her shoulder, and Aelin tries to force her own breath out.

Breathing in is harder, but Rowan's scent fills her nose and loosens the binds on her lungs. Soon, Aelin is doing the exercises independently, and Rowan nuzzles his face into her neck. His hands snake under her bump and lift some of the pressure, easing more of her tension.

"There you are," Rowan kisses her cheek as Aelin comes back around. "Are you okay?"

Aelin shakes her head and sinks into his arms. "Can you take me back to bed?"

Her legs feel like jelly, and her stomach is weak from turning. Rowan lifts her with ease. His arms are warm, and he murmurs sweet nothings into her ear as he carries his mate back to their bed.

"Adelia?" Aelin looks around for their daughter.

Rowan pulls back the duvet and reveals the sleepy from nestled right into the middle of the pillows. "She fell back asleep quickly."

"I can't believe Ress told her those things," Aelin can feel a tear slipping down her face. Ress had never forgiven her for her days as Celaena. Darrow had grown to accept her, but Ress never warmed up to having Aelin as his queen despite her efforts.

She hadn't realized the extent his hatred went.

Rowan scowls as he lays Aelin down next to their daughter. "Ress is young and foolish. I have forgiven a lot of his hostility and ignored most of his juvenile antics, but Aelin, I can't forgive this."

"He should never have said those things to Dell." Ress's words linger in her head. She tried to do right by her title and live up to her parent's legacy. Aelin took a lot of pride in listening to the demands of her people and tending to their problems personally. But the odds of Ress being the only one to feel this way are slim. Did they wish she'd never returned? Was she arrogant to take the crown just because it was her inheritance? She'd never had the formal training as ruler and relied a lot on Rowan to help manage foreign affairs. Despite the loss of her fire, many still feared her and considered her a murderer. No matter how hard she tried, Aelin's history as Adarlan's Assassin proceeded her.

Tears burn Aelin's eyes, and Rowan's scowl deepens. "He should have never spoken of you like that at all."

Aelin shakes her head, "It's his right to think what he wants. Maybe he has a point."

"No." Rowan growls, and Dell flinches in her sleep. Taking a deep breath, Rowan softens his voice. "He's wrong, Aelin. Ress was wrong to scare Dell, and he has no right to demean everything you've sacrificed. You've suffered for your people."

"I closed the lock because I had to Rowan," Aelin argues. "That doesn't automatically make me a good queen. What if I'm failing?"

Rowan pulls their duvet up to Aelin's chin, and Dell instinctively snuggles to her mother's side. Her daughter was a leach for warmth, and Aelin could feel her remaining flames writhing in her veins agitated.

"You are a wonderful ruler, Fireheart." Rowan bends down and kisses her lips reverently. "I've met my fair share of emperors, kings, and queens. None of them have given up so much to better the lives of their people. They care for you in return."

Rowan steps away from the bed, and Aelin makes a displeased noise. "Where are you going so early in the morning."

"I'm awake now. I feel like a flight through Oakwald. Go to sleep, and when you wake up, I'll bring my females breakfast," Rowan pulls on a plain white tunic. "Sleep, love. You both need your rest."

Rowan can read her too well. Aelin can feel her eyes drooping despite how much she wants to deny it. "Very well, but there better be tea and pastries."

As Aelin drifts back to sleep, she swears that a mischievous smile passes across her mate's face.

~~~

"Aelin," Maeve twirls a lock of blonde hair in her fingers. "Where are the keys?"

Cairn twists the blade in her thigh again, and Aelin screams, "screw yourself."

Aelin writhes beneath the pain and the dark queen's gaze. Her torturer goes to twist the blade again, but Maeve holds up a hand. "Wait. There is a smarter way to go about this."

"I won't tell you anything," Aelin gasps, the blood seeping from her thigh pools onto the table. "There is nothing you can do."

"Not even to spare the princess?" Maeve smiles as the cell door opens. Connall walks into the room, a squirming girl in his arms.

"Let me go," the girl screams, and the air in the room turns frigid. Her blonde hair whips around as she twists and fights. The little girl's head turns, and she freezes when she catches sight of Aelin. "Mama?"

"Adelia?" Aelin asks, confused. "You can't be here. You aren't supposed to be here." With renewed energy, Aelin thrashes against her bonds and bares her teeth at Maeve.

Maeve takes Adelia from Connall and strokes her hair. "Such a pretty one."

"This isn't real," Aelin hisses. "I wasn't pregnant when you took me. Adelia was born in Terresan."

Maeve hums a sympathetic note, "It seems you're confused." Aelin fights as the dark queen sits with a frozen Adelia in her lap. "Begin again, Cairn."

A hot iron is lain against Aelin's neck, and Adelia's screams rattle the stone chamber.

~~~

Aelin wakes with a gasp. Her chest is seizing in uncontrollable fits, and little hands cup the sides of her face.

"Mama?" Adelia's concerned face hovers over Aelin's. "Why are you crying?"

Relief washes over her at the sight of her daughter, safe and sound. She tries to take deeper breaths, but her body fights against her. The baby in her womb squirms uncomfortably. Aelin feels guilt that they are so subject to her moods. She tries to open her mouth to speak, consol her frightened daughter, but Aelin can't get any words out.

"Daddy!" Dell screams, frightened tears gathering in the corner of her eyes.

Rowan bursts through the door, "Dell?"

Adelia sniffles and kisses Aelin's face sadly, "Daddy, what's wrong with Mama?"

Aelin grabs at her chest, trying to ease the tightness there. She was scaring her daughter. What kind of mother would do that? Rowan sits beside her, and a cool wind goes up her nose and fills her lungs.

"Fireheart," Rowan lifts Adelia and sits beside her. "Is this a sick day?"

It was the code they'd come up with for the days when the past came back to haunt them. When the turmoil in their mind forces their bodies to rebel, and they can't seem to put on their usual facades. It used to shame Aelin, the days she couldn't rise from bed and do her duty. But her mate's unwavering love soon cracked that lie and eased her burden. Rowan had convincing arguments. Aelin's people needed their queen at her best, and on sick days, she wasn't able to give that to them. Their court was strong. They wouldn't allow Terresan to fall while she recovered. Aelin deserved time to heal.

Rowan must have been able to tell that she wouldn't be able to settle herself this time as his winds continued their push and pull in her chest. "Yes," she rasps dejectedly.

Dell buries her face into Rowan's shoulder. Her mate rests a hand on the side of her face and soothes her cheek. "To whatever end, Aelin. We will get through this just as we do everything else."

Rowan kisses the side of Dell's face. "Little love, do you think you can go to the kitchens and have someone bring Mama tea?"

That fae instinct to fuss rears its head in their child. Adelia perks up at the opportunity to do something useful. "Yes!"

Rowan sets her on the floor, and she takes off in a blur of untamed hair and swishing skirts. They wince as a gust of wind slams the doors of their chambers against the wall.

"She's a handful," Rowan talks, aware of the soothing effect his voice has on her. "But we always knew our children would be. I can't wait to see what kind of chaos our son brings into our lives."

Aelin wraps her arms around him as the remnants of her dreams finally fade away. "You think it's a boy?"

"I know so," Rowan pinches her side, and Aelin smiles. He'd also been confident that their first child would be a girl. His smugness after Adelia's birth was unbearable.

"Rowan," Aelin whispers. "Can we just lay here today?"

"I could never deny you anything," Rowan leans against their headboard and kicks off his shoes. "You don't need to ask, Aelin. It's okay to take time for yourself."

"What if I'm just proving Ress right?" The insecurity slips from her lips before she can stop them. "What if there is someone more capable?"

"Ress won't be a problem anymore," Rowan rests a hand against her bump, and the baby withing kicks at it, bringing a smile to his face.

Aelin narrows her eyes, "What have you done?"

"Nothing that anyone will blame me for," Rowan assures. "He would be in a lot more trouble if the rest of the court learned what he said in front of Dell. Ress should be grateful I didn't do a lot worse."

Aelin sighs, "I don't understand why I can't just let it all go. Why do I allow myself to be so haunted?"

"It's not that simple," Rowan shakes his head. "I'm hundreds of years old, and no matter how many years pass, there are things from my past that haven't healed. The mind is different from the body, and sometimes it takes longer for it to recover. There is nothing wrong with that. You gave up everything for the people you loved."

"Because I had to," Aelin contradicts.

A hardness comes over Rowan, "because no one else could."

Rowan rolls over her body into a plank and looks deep into her eyes. "No one else that day would have made the same sacrifices out of love. Not even me. I was too selfish to let you go. You gave up everything, and by the strength in your soul, you came home to me. In all my decades, I have never met someone so remarkable, and I never will again. Take as many years as you need to recover, Aelin. This world owes a debt to you, and I will make sure it pays. You deserve every happiness."

His hand threads through one of hers and drags it up to rest on the bump between them.

Happiness.

Dell darts back into their room, a cup of tea sloshing in her hands as she runs. "Daddy, I put extra sugar in it. Uncle Fen is coming with more cups, but I made this one special."

Rowan pulls away from her, and the laughter on his face is contagious.  

Aelin smiles and accepts the tea from Dell's hands. She even manages a few sips without cringing from the sweetness. Fenrys follows behind her shortly and sets a fresh cup covertly on her bedside table.

There may be hard days, Aelin realizes as her family gathers around her, but the love they showed her every day made it all worth it.

[cuttoothed]

For the second day of @jonmartinweek, mostly for the prompt "injury", though also a little bit "love confession" (by omission).

Set directly after episode 92. Content warnings for mild descriptions of Jon’s canonical injuries (blood, burns).

*

Things are...tense, when they go back down to the Archives. Actually, “tense” is probably an understatement, after finding out that Elias murdered not only Gertrude Robinson, but also the unknown man in Document Storage—who as it turned out was none other than Juergen bloody Leitner.

A lot to take on board, all in all.

Basira seems to have accepted her new employment status with eerie calm, and starts setting up at Sasha’s old desk (oh god, Sasha’s dead, has been for months), fetching notebooks and folders from the stationery cupboard and arranging pens and highlighters in a desk tidy. Daisy is nowhere to be seen—thankfully, Martin thinks, because she was even scarier than usual in Elias’ office. Melanie storms off into the stacks and there are sounds of shouting and things hitting the floor, which Martin is in no hurry to investigate. Tim sits at his desk with his feet propped up for about five minutes, then stands up and says: “Fuck this, I’m off to the pub.” He doesn’t invite anyone else to go with him, and Martin thinks their presence probably wouldn’t be welcome.

Jon arrives in about half an hour later, smelling of fresh cigarette smoke. Normally Martin would disapprove, but the way things are right now he’s tempted to take up a few bad habits himself. Jon looks...exhausted, defeated, his shoulders slumped wearily. His clothes are smudged with dirt, and there’s drying blood crusted around the injury on his neck; the bandages on his hand are starting to slip, revealing the angry, raw burns beneath.

Martin’s not sure he’s ever been so happy to see someone in his life.

Jon gives him a small, tired smile as he passes, then heads into his office and shuts the door. Martin knows that no sane person would try to go straight back to work looking like they’d just been through a war zone and still with an open wound; he is also aware that Jonathan Sims is the sort of person to do precisely that. He hesitates for a few moments, then makes a decision.

He fetches the first aid kit from the break room, and goes and knocks on Jon’s door. It’s a firm knock, a knock that he hopes says “I’m coming in whether you like it or not”, because it’s not beyond Jon to try to avoid them all for an extended period.

“Come in,” Jon calls, and even his voice sounds exhausted. When he sees Martin enter the room, his expression softens in a way that’s difficult to parse. Is he just relieved that it isn’t one of the others? Or is he actually pleased that it’s Martin?

It’s been two months since Jon went into hiding while suspected of murder, and the last time Martin saw him he had been quite sure Jon was planning to—to hurt himself, somehow. Before that, though, there had been a time when they were...well, close, in a way. Jon had let his guard down around Martin, in the midst of being so suspicious and afraid. He had trusted Martin, when he didn’t trust anyone else, had eaten lunch with him and talked about boring, ordinary things, the tight set of his shoulders relaxing just a little. He had even laughed, sometimes. It had been, despite everything, one of the happier times in Martin’s life, and if that’s not pathetic he doesn’t know what is.

“Hi, Jon,” he says.

“Martin,” says Jon, his tone soft. “It’s so—ahh, how are you?”

“How am I? You’re the one with a bloody great gash in your neck and looking like you put your hand in a fire.” Martin brandishes the first aid kit. “You really should go to the hospital, but I know it would be a waste of my time suggesting it.”

“Thank you for bringing that,” Jon says. “I appreciate it. You can just leave it on the desk.”

“Nope,” Martin tells him cheerily, setting the kit down and opening it. “I know you, Jon. If I leave it with you it’ll still be sitting here untouched tomorrow. Plus, I got my first aid certification when I was working in the library. It’s probably expired now, but I think it still counts.”

Jon looks as if he’s about to protest, but then he huffs a breath that might be a laugh, and nods in concession.

“All right then,” he says.

Martin snaps on a pair of disposable gloves and directs Jon to sit on the desk and undo the top two buttons on his shirt, so Martin can examine the wound on his neck. It’s shallow, fortunately, and the bleeding seems to have already stopped. Martin cleans away the crusted blood as gently as he can, though Jon still winces a few times.

“What happened?” Martin asks, as he smears on antibiotic cream.

“Daisy. She, ah, she decided that I was dangerous. Needed to be dealt with. Fortunately Basira was able to convince her otherwise.”

“Bloody hell,” Martin mutters. He’s not sure why he’s surprised; he’s always felt afraid around Daisy, like a rabbit being in the same room with a fox. But he just sort of assumed it was typical Martin fear of, well, everything. He never thought Daisy would actually hurt any of them. He applies a bandage carefully over the wound, and then turns his attention to Jon’s hand. Unwrapping the bandages reveals the red, blistered mess beneath, and Martin hisses in sympathy.

“Please tell me you went to the hospital for this.”

“I went to a walk-in clinic,” Jon says. “They cleaned it up, gave me some antibiotics and painkillers. They, uh, they did recommend I see my GP for follow up monitoring, and that I should get a referral to a physiotherapist, but, well, it’s been a busy few days.”

“Jon,” Martin sighs, exasperated, and Jon smiles a bit shakily.

“I know,” he says. “I will go to a GP, I promise. It’s just a bit tricky when you’re wanted for murder. Anyway, it seems to be healing rather well, all things considered.”

Martin considers whether to apply antibiotic cream, but the skin doesn’t seem to be broken, and he knows it’s best not to touch the area more than needed. Instead, he rewraps it with clean, dry bandages, being sure to keep them loose.

“How did this happen?” he asks, to distract himself from the fact that he is, technically, holding Jon’s hand. Jon gives a self-deprecating laugh.

“I, uh, I was trying to get information from a devotee of the Lightless Flame. This was her price.”

“The Lightless Flame? That cult—from the statements?”

“The same. As it turns out, a—a lot of things from the statements are real. Unpleasantly so.”

“I—yeah, I sort of figured that out when Tim and I got trapped in these weird corridors for days by that Michael...thing.”

Jon’s face blanches, his brows furrowing.

“You—god, Martin, I didn’t know. Are you—I mean, you’re okay, obviously, but— Have you seen Michael since?”

“No, and I hope I don’t.” Martin feels faintly nauseous at the memory. He doesn’t realize his hands are trembling slightly until the fingers of Jon’s hand, the unburned one, touch his wrist.

“I’m so sorry, Martin,” he says. “When I realized a-about Sasha, about that thing, I hoped I could take care of it myself, spare you and Tim. I never wanted to drag you into all this.”

“I don’t think there’s much avoiding it,” Martin mutters miserably. “And you didn’t seem to mind dragging Melanie into it, while you were on the lam.”

“I shouldn’t have asked her for help either. It wasn’t fair to put any of you in the position of aiding a suspected murderer.”

“I never believed you did it,” Martin tells him fiercely. “It just would have been nice to know you were okay, you know?”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I—I wanted to contact you, but it seemed too risky. I knew the police would be watching you, since we’re friends. Or—or at least friendly.”

Everyone I’ve talked to says you and him were close. Martin had been ridiculously pleased by the accusation at the time, and he feels the same now, with Jon’s injured hand cradled in both of his. Jon trusts Martin with his wounds, his vulnerability. Jon wanted to contact him; Jon thinks they’re friends.

“I—” Martin starts to say, and he doesn’t know if his next words will be I missed you or I worry about you or some humiliating romantic confession blurted out and impossible to take back. He draws a deep breath, and instead says: “I’m glad you’re back, and that you’re okay. I don’t have that many friends, I can’t afford to lose one.”

He says it like a joke, and mercifully, Jon takes it as one, and gives a relieved laugh. Martin realizes he’s long since finished bandaging the burn and is now just sort of...holding Jon’s hand; he releases it, reluctantly, and Jon smiles, lifting his other hand to touch the bandage on his throat.

“Thank you, Martin,” he says, hopping down from the desk. “I appreciate it, really.”

“As a token of your appreciation, you can go ahead and make a doctor’s appointment for that hand,” says Martin firmly, closing up the first aid kit.

“I will,” Jon says solemnly, and Martin believes him, but he’s also going to check in and remind him at the end of the day because Jon has a tendency to forget about trivial things like his own wellbeing. It’s just who he is, and Martin’s made his peace with it, like he’s made his peace with being utterly, hopelessly gone for Jonathan Sims.

“I was going to make some tea, if you fancy,” he says as he opens the door. “You look like you could use a cup.”

“Oh, yes, that would be lovely, thank you. Oh, and Martin?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad I’m back as well. I—” Jon hesitates a moment, then says: “I missed your tea.”

It’s not much of a declaration, but Martin understands what Jon means by it; for the two of them, it means a lot.

[pieces-by-me]

Raven’s Wrath

I listened to a song recently and had a tiny little fiction idea that wouldn't let me be so I wrote it. And this is what I came up with. It’s a bit darker then what I thought it would be but I still like it. And I hope you do too. It is set at the very last battle of Vikings with a little twist at the end. Enjoy!

Words: 2049

Summary: Never underestimate the warnings of someone how’s not begging for their own live.

Warnings: Angst, death, lots of different ways to get hurt to dying. Pain. English is not my first language.

It was the first drop of blood that fell on a dried patch of earth that sealed their fate. One drop and it would be their end. But the men fighting on the battlefield would not know of this until later. First they would fight. Fight for their god, fight for their faith, fight for their lives. Fight until the last of their enemies is dead and victory screams would be heard loud and clear. But it would not come to this.

King Alfred should have realized the colossal mistake he made when he met the Viking prince on this field. Blinded by the impending battle he did not regard the little voice of warning inside his head.

You see this was not a normal field. It might have looked like one but first looks can be deceiving. Many years ago, when Alfred was a mere boy, his grandfather King Ecbert made one move to gain more land. He gambled with the lives of the people that lived there. A small gathering of people with strange huts and habits. They would not slaughter their livestock. They would not drink ale. They would eat nothing but the things that grew from the earth. They would paint weird symbols on their doors. But most importantly, they would not prey to God.

Ecbert could overlook a lot of things but going against his God on the land he already thought of his was non-negotiable. So he played them like he did with many of his piers. Made them feel save with the new encounter of a men they never met just to turn on them and burn whatever they had. He took everything from them. But even in their doom they never begged for their lives. Mothers wouldn't cry over the dead bodies of their children, men wouldn't hold their women in their arms to whisper false promises of safety in their ears. No one was crying or begging for themselves. Only for one thing.

Don't shed our blood here. Don't soil her home. Don't awake her rage.

The King intrigued by this specific plea, granted them their last wish. But with every person that was burning at the stake more and more questions rose inside him like the smoke of the pyre. They would not scream out of pain. They would not shed tears of anguish. How could they not feel the heat of the fire and the bubbling of their skin? How could they look up at the sky with nothing but a smile on their faces? But none of them could answer his questions for the small group of people took not long to obliterate forever. It was truly sight to see, one that the king would look upon even after many years have passed. He would talk to his son and later grandsons about this small piece of land. About the people that resided there, of their strange ways. Of their last words and warnings.

So how did Alfred forget about all the stories of his grandfather. Because even though they were following false believes King Ecbert was afraid. Alfred could see it in the past how the smallest glimmer of fear was shown in the king's eye as he spoke of the people that smiled in their death. Not far from the northman the now king faced. It was a story from the past,he told himself. A story that his grandfather made up, because he could't not face the Vikings here. If he would have waited or faught sooner he would miss the advantage of the fog. He would have lost.

But he will loose nevertheless, he just didn't know it yet.

“Our Lord Jesus Christ is with us. He is here on the battlefield, and I will not leave his side.”

“Catapults! Loose!”

The cross was hit and burned on the ground.

“Charge!”

The battle began. Men from both sides running towards another and crashing with drawn swords and axes on each other like waves on cliffs. Unyielding and powerful.

The roar of battle was almost deafening. Swords clashing on shields. Axes breaking armor. Screams were shouted to the heavens. Burning rocks flew over their heads and brought death from above. And the first bodies fell to the ground. Bleeding from their wounds. Eyes unwavering. Death walking past the fighting soldiers to collect the fallen. And with death the ravens came as well. Pecking on the dead and feeding off their flesh.

But something was not right. Alfred could feel it. It was like something was slithering over his body. He faced his share of battles, the feeling of pure survival making you go forward. But this was something else. A warning. Whispers made themselves known behind his ears but the thundering battle around him was too loud for him to hear. Panic made itself know and his fighting got less true. If it weren't for the soldier by his side he would have faced the tip of an axe and met his death. Like a madman he looked around. Worrying his warriors. Why were there ravens already on the field? They would normally only come when the battle was done. But the bloodshed and screaming was not finished.

And worse, the Vikings saw the ravens as well. Thinking Odin was on their side.

“He's here! Odin is with us!”

It felt like a new wave of hope run through the northman and fueled them with more strength. More power. More brutality. Through his ever more blue turning eyes Ivar saw the spirit of his men fighting for their god. Odin was on the battlefield and he would not miss his Allfather even if every bone in his body was breaking. He felt him. A presence full of power. A deity was there. But with every crippling step closer to his brother and the fight he wasn't sure if it truly was Odin. No surely his god would not make him feel this panic that slowly made itself known.

“Allfather! Where are you?”

Why would Ivar the Boneless scream for Odin when he was supposed to be there? It made his men uneasy. Truly what was going on.

More and more ravens could be seen. More and more were the noises of the battle tuned out by the screeching of birds that flew from the surrounding forrest until there were only them. The whispers of warning that Alfred heard were almost screams of terror now. Blending with the screeching birds it sounded like a nightmare.

And then nothing. Pure silence. Not one bird made a sound.

Every man, no matter Christian or Viking stopped at what they did like they were one people. Equally anxious of the occurrence that took place. A pause ran through them where no one knew why they stopped or what they should do now. But all of them felt it. Pure agonizing terror.

For they were all fools. If only Alfred listened to the whispers. If only he had listened to his grandfathers stories of the people that lived here.

Don't soil her home.

Through the quiet and pause steps could be heard. Without hesitation every man turned his head north towards this squishing noise. For a second the Vikings thought Odin came to help them. For another the Christians thought God send a miracle. But they were all wrong.

A women stepped out of the trees. She would be called beautiful if she wouldn't have been bathed in blood. Her clothes, her hair, her feet and hands. Everything oozed red and left bloody footprints in the already soiled earth. Greasy and slick she slithered forward. Closer and closer to the first men. It was as if hell itself send her on the field. Tears of sorrow run down her face and her mouth was agape and screaming. But no sound left her lips.

Don't shed our blood here.

She looked as if she was on the battlefield all along and rolled around between the fallen bodies. How was she draped in blood if she didn't have a single wound?

Don't awake her rage.

But they did. They shed blood on her land. They murdered living creatures where she rested. They stained her soil and made it barren. They were vermin. They did everything her people warned them not to and they would pay.

The woman had all the eyes of every living man on her as she slowly lifted her arms. Bony hands with black claws for nails lifted to the sky. She said nothing. Her lips did not move but the men could hear whispers. Voices floating through the wind. The ravens from the battlefield stopped their feast of the dead and took off to the sky. An armada off birds collection and circling over the heads of the now shuddering fools. More and more birds flew and darken the sky. Making the already fogging day even darker.

Through all of this Ivars and Hvitserks eyes met and both knew that this was their doom. They didn't know why the women appeared. They didn't know about the warnings King Ecbert heard all those years ago. They only knew that they would soon meet Odin in his hall. At least they wouldn't go alone.

Alfred was as white as chalk. Regretting everything he ever did. Every step he took in this direction where he ended on this field. Regretting that he never took real notice on the true warnings of the people that were allowed to live here. But now it was too late. All this regret and anguish would not help him. He could only pray that God would let him into heaven.

The sky now almost dark as the night buzzed with every beat of the wings. Arms still risen to the sky the women now looked to the man. Almost as if she saw in each and everyone of their eyes. She saw the panic in them. Panic and dread collecting in the eyes of these fools. It made her smile. A smile so grim and feral it would surly haunt your dreams. They would regret to ever set foot on what was hers. The whispers dulled and every single raven, as if they were finally allowed to do their job, dropped from the sky.

Eyes beady and beaks open. Screaming and barring claws. The silence that was there not long ago was now filled wish screams of the man that were eaten alive. Each raven pecking on them, ripping their flesh, gouging out their eyes. Creating pain and terror with every flap of their wings.

And the women just looked on. Watched as her children punished the fools that disobeyed her simple rules.

Don't awake her rage for it would only diminish with your death.

She stood there for what felt like seconds and hours all at once. Making sure that every last one of them was dead. Only turning her back towards them when the screaming seized and the blood stopped flowing. And with it now being quiet again she stepped back into the trees and let her children eat their feast. She did her deed and vanished into the shadows.

You would say that this was all a tale told by old men to scare children. An old wives' tale with no true words behind it. But not. For when the soldiers left behind to guard the chamber tents of their King felt worry for their people the left their post and looked for their King. But what they found was a nightmare. Bodies upon bodies, everyone dead. Eyes were missing, tongues ripped out and forgotten. Not one corpse left unscathed. Something not one of them would ever forgett.

No one knows what happened there. Had one side won? But if so how did both side die so brutally. No. No one won. The Christinas lost their King. What would they do now? Nothing but tragic and panic blossomed from this fight. The fight that was supposed to end all grieve between two people. But nothing was left of them. And you could hear nothing but ravens beaks clacking and silent whispers being flown away by the wind.

__________________

as always thank you for reading and every feedback is very appreciated!!

Tag: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @xbellaxcarolinax @youbloodymadgenius

[helliontherapscallion]

Wilbur’s Hair Salon (The Ashes of Yourself Blurb)

The Ashes of Yourself Masterlist

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: getting overwhelmed, swearing

Word count: 2,958

(A/N): this is a lil longer than I expected it to be (longer than the actual chapter I released today oop). Anyways, this could be read without having to read my Ashes of Yourself series, all you have to know is that Philza and Technoblade are absent a lot leaving Wilbur to raise Tommy and the reader and the reader is a blaze hybrid

You frowned at yourself in the mirror, running your hands through your long hair in distaste, the flames tickling your hands. The shears on the bathroom counter sat there taunting you, daring you to take them and cut off all of your hair. The broken water faucet in the sink dripped endlessly, reminding you of what happened when it first started dripping. The small charcoal spot on the back of your hand reminded you of how painful touching water was. 

You hated every aspect of your hair; the way it tickled your neck, the way it kept getting in your face, how people kept mistaking you for a girl, it was just so frustrating. You absolutely hated how fast your hair grew, one day you cut it close to your scalp and a week later it’s already at your shoulders! Your hair was the bane of your existence at the moment. 

You tried countless hairstyles ranging from buns to fancy updos, all of them proved to be useless in the end when you lost control of your emotions and the hair ties and bobby pins burnt to a crisp. You knew from experience that cutting your hair was useless, and so was shoving it all under a beanie you stole from Wilbur, so you gave up and let it grow out. That was a month ago and your hair now reached your lower back. 

Your frustration was growing by the second. The flames on your head flickered wildly and smoke plumed from the strands. You knew that in order to cut your hair you had to relax so that it was tangible, you knew that, but you just couldn’t relax. 

You snatched the shears off from the counter with one hand and gathered all of your hair in your other. The shears were positioned around your hair and without hesitation, you snapped the shears closed. Like you were expecting, the shears only swished through the flames and left them untouched. In a fit of frustration, you repeatedly closed the shears around your hair. The sharp edges did nothing to the length. 

You only paused when you felt something drip onto your forehead. In confusion, you looked at the mirror only to see the previously ivory white iron replaced with glowing oranges and reds. Bits were dripping off from the tool and onto your face. The flames thrashed in your grip, desperate to be unleashed and burn everything in this room to mere ashes. 

Molten tears pricked your eyes as you glared at the hair in your hand, frustrated blaze-like growls rumbling the back of your throat. You knew that if you let this fester any longer, the house would catch on fire (again). You closed your eyes and took deep breaths in an attempt to steady yourself.

It worked slightly for a few moments, the flames now calmly flickering and your hands at their normal temperature, however you could still feel the irritation gnawing on the deepest corners of your mind. 

You put down the cooled down and misshapen shears on the bathroom counter, wiped off the liquid iron from your forehead, and ripped open the door in search for the brother closest to you in age: Tommy.

He wasn’t that hard to find; all you had to do was follow the music to his room. Without knocking, you opened his door and stared at him. He sat up on his bed and looked at you in offence, “oi, what the fuck?! What if I was changing or something? You-” 

“Wanna commit arson?” 

He paused and launched himself off from his bed, “I’m down for some arson, but what’s the occasion?” 

You led him down the stairs and towards the door, “ I’m mad at everything right now and I don’t want to burn down the house.” 

Just as you both were about to leave the house, someone clearing their throat sounded behind you. Your hand froze over the doorknob and you swore to yourself under your breath. Wilbur grabbed both of your shoulders and spun you both around. He was in his pajamas, rage peeking through his sleep clouded eyes. 

“Where do you two think you’re going at this time of night?” Despite only being nineteen years old, he has already perfected the angry dad voice. 

“(Y/n) and I were just going out for a walk, big man. No need to get your panties in a twist.” 

Wilbur’s eyes narrowed, “no you two weren’t. You were gonna go burn some shit again weren’t you?” 

“What does it matter to you where we go? Where we go is none of your business.” You ripped your shoulder out of his grasp and glared at him. You could feel your hair starting to flicker in anger.

He matched your glare with as much, if not more, intensity, “Dad put me in charge, so it’s actually all of my business to know where you’re going at midnight.” 

“Just leave us the fuck alone, Wilbur. You have no idea how much I need this.” 

“Listen Wilbur,” Tommy said warily after feeling the heat radiating off from your body, “(y/n) just needs to get their mind off from things. I wasn’t gonna actually let them commit arson again.”

This made Wilbur pause. Normally Tommy would back you up in arguments but now the oldest could feel the slight urgency in the blond’s voice. He looked back at you and saw that you were quite literally about to combust. He could hear the small blaze noises that you were making as pitch black irises and pale yellow sclera glared at him. Small plumes of smoke were rising from your figure and dissipating into the air the second it met with the ceiling. 

Wilbur then sighed and grabbed his coat, a sword, and, to your surprise, two pairs of flint and steel. “C’mon then,” he gestured to the front door, “let’s go. But only trees this time, got it?” Despite his exasperation and exhaustion with basically raising two preteens that thrived off from arson, he smiled slightly when he saw both of them perk up. They were his youngest siblings and he wanted nothing more than to see them happy.

After finding a lone tree and clearing it of any potential animals and mobs, the siblings lit it on fire. The feeling of finally releasing some pent up anger and frustration was slightly relieving. Though some of your frustration remained, you felt a little more at ease.

Wilbur led both you and Tommy away from the burning tree and sat down on top of a grassy hill, lighting torches to prevent any mobs from sneaking up on you three. The siblings sat in comfortable silence as they watched the flickering flames cut through the darkness of the night. Tommy’s and Wilbur’s faces were lit up in a dull orange hue. 

Eventually, you leaned your head on Wilbur’s shoulder tiredly and yawned loudly. The brunet chuckled to himself and moved to wrap his arms around both of his siblings, pulling them close to his side. You sighed in content and nuzzled your face closer to his side. The blaze of the tree had died down to mere embers and charcoal remains. 

“...Why don’t we go inside before we all fall asleep out here.” Wilbur nudged both of you gently and helped you stand up. 

“I don’t need help, arsehole,” Tommy protested, but did nothing to stop Wilbur from helping him up. “I,” he cut himself off with a large yawn. You, seeing this, yawned yourself. 

“Sure,” Wilbur chuckled and put a steadying hand on yours and Tommy’s shoulders, steering you back towards the house. The siblings walked back into the house where, instead of letting you both go to your separate rooms, Wilbur plopped you both onto the couch and sat between the both of you. He once again wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pulled you both close to his body. 

“The fuck are you doing, Wil?” Tommy protested, weakly trying to push himself away from his older brother. 

Wilbur tightened his grip and slumped down onto the couch, making himself comfortable. “This calls for sibling cuddle time. It’s been a while since we’ve done this anyway.” 

“There’s a reason why we haven’t done this in a while,” Tommy complained, “we’re too old for this shit.” 

“So you want to-” Wilbur’s snarky remark was interrupted by a soft snore coming from his side. He and Tommy stopped arguing and looked over to (y/n). The blaze hybrid’s lips were slightly parted as they snored peacefully, unconsciously nuzzling into Wilbur’s old t-shirt and moving to wrap an arm across Wilbur’s midsection. Their hand landed on Tommy’s long sleeve shirt and gripped it lightly. 

“What the fuck, (y/n).” 

“Tommy I swear to the gods if you wake them up I will make you do all of the chores for a week.” 

Tommy grumbled to himself before he reluctantly leaned his head against Wilbur’s side and putting his hand over (y/n)’s, “fine, but I’m only staying because I don’t want to do your fucking chores again.” 

“Mhm, now go to sleep, Toms, it’s getting late.” 

Tommy fell silent and let himself drift off to sleep. Soon enough, Wilbur himself drifted off to sleep, pulling his siblings closer to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you woke up, you were alone on the couch. Sunlight was streaming through the opened curtains and blinded your sensitive eyes. The scent of eggs and toast wafted throughout the house. 

You stretched and made your way to the kitchen. There, Wilbur was standing at the stove flipping eggs and Tommy was sitting at the table with his head burrowed into the crook of his elbow. 

“It’s about time you woke up, I was starting to get worried that you’d sleep until noon,” Wilbur said before he placed plates at the table. He reached over to lightly smack the back of Tommy’s head, “no sleeping at the table.” 

The blond grumbled to himself before pushing himself up onto an elbow and scooping food into his mouth. Wilbur’s eyes narrowed at his elbow on the table before he sighed to himself and ate his own portion of breakfast. 

“So, what’s going on with you? It’s been a while since you wanted to burn something down like that,” Tommy asked you after waking up a little bit more. Wilbur looked over at you in question. 

You sighed and poked at your food, “it’s really stupid.” 

“If it was enough for you to almost completely melt the shears, it isn’t stupid, (y/n). What’d I say about talking about your emotions?” Wilbur softly chided you. 

“‘Don’t call your emotions stupid’,” you droned out before taking a bite of your breakfast, “but this time it really is stupid, Wilby. You both will laugh at me anyways, so just drop it.” 

“We’d never laugh at you,” Wilbur frowned, “and whatever you’re feeling certainly isn’t stupid. Tell us, we’re all ears.” 

You looked up from your plate and saw that they both were looking at you with judgemental free stares. Though his eyes were previously clouded with sleep, Tommy now looked alert and diverted his full attention to you while Wilbur gave you an encouraging smile. 

“...Fine, it’s just… I couldn’t cut my hair last night and it’s just been so overwhelming to constantly deal with. You both know how fast it grows.” You ran a hand over the top of your hair and huffed in frustration. 

“That’s it?” Tommy asked you before Wilbur kicked his shin from under the table. “What Tommy meant to say,” he shot a pointed look at the twelve year old, “is that feeling overwhelmed, no matter what it’s about, is completely normal. We all get overwhelmed sometimes. I’ll tell you what,” he cleared his throat and stood up from his place at the table, “I’ll be right back.” As he passed Tommy’s place, he leaned down close to his ear, “apologize before I get back.” 

You winced at Wilbur’s scathing tone and watched as he walked out of the room in long strides. 

“Sorry,” you and Tommy told each other at the same time. Both of you looked at each other in slight shock, “what-” you cut yourself off as you realized that you both said the same thing again. 

You both eyed each other warily from across the table, watching the other’s mouths closely. You took a deep breath and looked at him seriously, “sorry Toms. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” 

“Wha- I’m the one that’s supposed to say sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one that’s an arsehole that doesn’t think before he speaks, so I’m sorry.” He narrowed his eyes at you, daring you to say another word. As you opened your mouth to object, he sharply said, “ah! No apologizing when you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

You snapped your mouth closed and sighed, propping yourself up onto your elbow. “...You know that I’ll always forgive you no matter what you do, right Tommy?”

“Of course, and I’ll always defend you as well. Even if you end up murdering someone, I’ll help you hide the body. It’s just what older brothers are supposed to do.” 

“So,” you grinned at him, “you’re down for murder now?” 

“Nobody’s murdering anybody.” Wilbur’s voice made the both of you jump. When you both whipped your heads over to the doorway, you saw Wilbur leaning against the doorframe and watching you two with a fond smile. He pushed himself off from the doorframe and placed a wrapped box in front of you. 

“I was waiting until your birthday,” he sat down next to you, “but now is as good a time as ever to give this to you.” 

After a while of hesitance, you ripped the wrapping paper off from the box and peered inside of it. There, a glimmering pair of shears and leather gloves were laying on the bottom of the box. “Woah, are these enchanted?” You looked up at Wilbur with awe filled eyes. 

He looked at you with a wide smile and nodded eagerly, “yes! Both are enchanted with fire protection so you can cut your hair easier!” 

“That is so poggers! Wanna cut your hair now?!” Tommy was leaning across the table and looking into the box with wide, excited eyes. You snatched the gloves out of the box and handed them to him, “yes! Do you wanna cut my hair?!” 

He grabbed the gloves and put them on hastily, jumping out of his chair and darting towards the door. You grabbed the shears and attempted to follow him before Wilbur stopped you with a hand on your shoulder, looking slightly alarmed, “he is not cutting your hair.”

“Well, why not?”

“He isn’t cutting your hair and that’s final. Give me the shears and we can safely cut it in the bathroom.” He held his hand out and gave you a smile, “I know you’re excited, but I just don’t want anyone losing a finger under my watch. That’d be really hard to explain to Dad.” 

You sighed and put the shears into his hand. He led you towards the bathroom and you followed him closely, “I miss Dad, do you know when he’s coming home?” 

“I don’t know, little inferno. Just- just don’t think about him and he’ll be home before you know it.” His tone had a hidden sharp edge to it as he put a hand on your opposite shoulder and lightly squeezed it. “I know it’s hard without him, but we’ll always have each other. Just you, me, and Tommy. We don’t need them as long as we have each other.” 

“Are you two coming or not?!” Tommy poked his head out from the bathroom, staring at you both with slight annoyance. “We are and you are not cutting their hair.” 

“Well,” Tommy scoffed and wiggled his fingers, the light bouncing off from the oversized gloves perfectly, “who has the gloves?” 

You and Wilbur stepped into the bathroom with him guiding you to sit on the closed toilet seat and leaning your head over the sink. Wilbur raised his eyebrows and wiggled the shears in his hand, “who has the shears and the ability to ground you for a few weeks?” 

Tommy huffed and took off the gloves, giving them to Wilbur who slipped them onto his hands. Wilbur grinned cheekily, “that’s what I thought.” He gathered your hair into one hand and looked at you in question, “ready?” 

You grinned back at him, “as ready as I’ll ever be.” 

The shears sliced through your hair with ease and you watched as the fire dissipated into the air. Tommy watched as it floated up in the air and smiled to himself as it disappeared before hitting the ceiling. 

After your haircut, you sat up and looked at yourself in the mirror. It was like Wilbur had read your mind, your hair was exactly how you wanted it. When you looked back at him, he was looking at you with a tender smile. Just as you were about to thank him, Tommy spoke up in a casual tone.

“So Wilbur,” he asked, “would you help us hide a body if one of us accidentally murdered someone?” 

“...Tommy, (y/n), is there something you’re not telling me?” 

“Is that a yes or a no?” You asked him after giving Tommy a quick mischievous smile.

Wilbur slipped the gloves off and tapped his chin in thought. “...I would, that’s what older brothers are for. Hiding bodies for their younger siblings,” he chuckled to himself before he stopped himself and looked at you both slightly nervously, “seriously though, is there something you both aren’t telling me?”

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[kravkalackin]

Barry knew that the powers he was tampering with were not to be taken lightly. He knew that he was not a particularly good person for deciding to tamper with them anyway, and even less wise. 

He also knew that he didn’t really care. 

The worst part, the thing that he could understand objectively made him pretty fucking terrible, was that there wasn’t even a reason. He had no great loss, he wasn’t looking for vengeance or love or even just raw power. No, none of that. 

It was just interesting, and so few understood these dark magics. Even fewer could wield them properly. He wanted to see if he could. 

Even his almost clinical interest was starting to have concerns about this one though. The book had been old, older than anything Barry had ever seen before. Scorched and what remained written in a language that had taken him months to translate. The damage left some parts incomplete, most of it incomplete actually. 

But this ritual, this one had remained intact. Almost eerily so, like whatever fire had befallen it wouldn’t or couldn’t harm this part. 

The only problem was that he had no idea what the ritual was supposed to do. 

So of course, he was trying it out. 

Magic this old, this deep, there wasn’t a lot he could do to really ward it in case things went wrong. Still, he had set up the strongest charms he could around his lair, and that would have be be enough. Despite the power he could feel from just reading the book the actual ritual was surprisingly simple. 

Runes in an ancient language, carved into the rib of an ancient whale (which had taken... some effort to get down here) surrounded by more runes crafted from melted wax on the stone floor. Taking a deep breath, he used another piece of bone to craft a clean cut across the palm of his hand, reaching out to let the blood drip onto the bone as he began speaking the incantation. 

As he spoke the small amount of blood that had dripped onto the bone began to spread, covering it in red much more than it should have rightfully been able to, until the entire pillar was soaked in it, covering the runes that had taken a whole day to carve. 

He continued with the incantation, his voice starting to sound doubled in his ears. He couldn’t tell if it was his own voice heard twice, or if someone else had joined him. Whatever it was the ritual continued, the runes underneath the blood bursting into flames, quickly engulfing the entire pillar and threatening to choke him out with its heat. 

Barry forced himself to keep going. If there was one thing he knew was worse than trying one of these things, it was leaving one incomplete. As he drew to the last few lines of the incantation he heard a loud crack, followed by another, and more still. Through the flames he could see the giant, ancient bone in front of him splitting and splintering like a twig in a bonfire. 

With the last lines of the incantation, it exploded around him. 

Barry was knocked back, and it must’ve been the spell that kept any of the jagged bits of bone or flame from impaling and killing him then and there, despite the way they jabbed into the cave walls around him. He was still flung into a bookcase behind him, and there were a few moments where he was left lying there, coughing and wheezing as the fire and smoke around him slowly subsided. 

When he finally managed to look up, to see exactly what it is this damn ritual actually did, for a moment he thought the center of the room was still on fire. Then he realized his glasses had been knocked askew, and when he pushed them back into place he could see a bit more clearly. It still looked like fire, but there was so much more to it than just that. 

She was humanoid, looking like a wildfire given form. A few of those runes glowed brightly along her limbs, before fading away as her own fire seemed to quell some, until she appeared more like a comforting smolder. Despite the bright, somewhat shifting form her features were surprisingly pronounced, and Barry could see her staring right at him, her head cocking to the side after a moment. 

“Not... what I was expecting,” she said, a strange, almost otherworldly accent to her voice. Barry coughed once more, pulling himself up along the shelves behind him. 

“Are you the creature this book summons?” he asked, holding up the ancient tome as he asked. At least the magic that summoned her decided to update her language so that they could understand each other. 

He saw her eyes land on the book, an enraged glare suddenly crossing her face, the flames that made up her hair flaring up as she shot a hand forward. Barry couldn’t move fast enough, the book shot with a blast of fire. He at least managed to drop it before it burned his hand. 

“Summoned? No, that damn thing trapped me,” she snapped, and Barry felt his stomach drop a little at that. He had certainly considered the idea that he’d be releasing some ancient evil into the world when he decided to use the thing. “What’s your name?” she asked suddenly.

“Barry,” he answered, honestly, like an idiot. He must’ve hit his head harder than he thought in that crash. The beautiful spout of fire in front of him grinned at that. 

“Nice to meet you Barry. I’m Lup. I was kind of in the middle of something when locked away for, uh, how old would you say that book is?” she asked. 

“Rough estimate? Two, two and a half thousand years?” he said, and she winced at that. 

“Ouch, okay, when I was locked away for fucking two thousand years. And since you let me out, you get to help me pick up where I left off. Sounds good?” 

If Barry was a good person, he would have refused. Would have recognized that something locked away this long, and with something so powerful, was locked for a reason. Would have started a search for some way to bind her again, so that whatever dark plans she had would never come to fruition. 

But as previously stated, Barry wasn’t a very good person. 

“Yeah alright, works for me.” 

[javier-pena]

alone

Chapter 1 of The Hunt

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Rating: Mature (for now but that will - spoilers! - change eventually)

Summary: When your best friend and companion is abducted by a group of outlaws, you hire a Mandalorian to help track down the men and get your revenge. What seems like a simple enough task stretches into a month-long trek through inhospitable terrain while both you and the Mandalorian are trying to come to terms with events in your past you cannot change. Set after Season 2.

Warnings: mentions (and short descriptions) of death, murder, and torture | a lot of hurt and no comfort | mentions of loss | mild to moderate language | a lot - and I mean A LOT - of talk about Din’s hands lmao

Notes: This is my first attempt at a Mandalorian fic and the first time in months I’ve written anything. It’s vaguely inspired by my favorite western movies, True Grit (1969/2010), The Quick and the Dead (1995), and The World to Come (2020). So yes, this is going to be very much like a western. I also want to - again - thank Dani @javierpcna​ who was like “are you writing Mandalorian stuff?” about a month ago and has, since then, read through this chapter more often than me and encouraged me to continue to write it and offered so much valuable insight whenever I came to her with an idea ... seriously, Dani, this fic wouldn’t exist without you and I hope I can find a way to repay you! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this first chapter (I’m already working on the second one) ...

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The day the Mandalorian arrives on Alvorine is the day you lose your best friend. You’re still busy putting out the fire, running your soot-blackened hand across your face, where the dirt mingles with the tears you’re too tired to stop from streaming down your face, when you hear the thrusters of a spacecraft roaring above you. You barely glance up; you can’t be bothered to. It could be the remnants of the Empire looking for recruits, it could be the New Republic looking for the remnants of the Empire, or it could be the bandits coming back for more. But what do you care? They already took away the one person you care most about in the galaxy. You just grip the shovel tighter and drive it into the soil so you can choke the fire underneath moist stones and dirt.

While you exhaust your body with physical labor, you occupy your mind with thoughts of revenge. Revenge as dark and quenching as the soil beneath you. With every load of dirt you heave onto the searing flames, your plan gains another sharp edge until all you can think of is driving the cutting edge down onto the throat of the man who gripped Brea’s arm and pulled her onto the speeder bike. Maybe his head would come off right away, maybe your tool would just obstruct his windpipe as you watch the life drain slowly out of his eyes. And even that would be too good an end for that monster.

It’s not just in your mind – those thoughts aren’t simply there to ground you while you continue your work in the ruins of what was once your home. It’s not pure fantasy, something to give you back a feeling of control. You are determined to follow through on it; you are going to hunt down these men who burned down your farm and stole Brea from you. You will not rest until they are all dead by your hand. And if you should die in the process … then you won’t go out without a fight, without taking as many of those bastards with you as you can. They have sealed their own fate by coming here today.

You know Brea isn’t dead; they won’t kill her unless she tries to kill one of them first. And she wouldn’t do that, she is too gentle for that, too docile. She would rather turn the other cheek. They should have taken you instead; she doesn’t deserve the fate that awaits her. You would’ve at least put up a fight, make them pay for what they did. And Brea? She would just die.

For now, she’s alive. But whatever you set out to do once you’re done here won’t be a rescue mission. You aren’t under the illusion you can save her. You know that even if you were to leave right now, even if you had your own speeder bike, you would never find her in time. No, this possibility hasn’t even crossed your mind. All you want to do is cause these men more pain than they caused you. You know it is impossible because you cannot imagine anything worse, but you sure as hell will do your best.

You straighten your back, drive the shovel into the ground, and use it as support while you try to catch your breath. The air burns in your lungs, and not just from the cold. There is also the steadily rising black smoke that makes breathing hard; your throat stings, so do your sides, and there is a bitter taste in your mouth. But you’re almost finished here, you’re almost done putting out the fire, so it won’t endanger the surrounding forest. And with every flame you bury, you also bury a piece of your soul until you feel like there is nothing left that makes you human, until all the pain and despair you’re feeling since listening to Brea’s screams grow quieter and quieter until they were swallowed up by silence has turned into a cold, brazen cry for revenge. But you’re glad this has made you less forgiving, less kind, less … human. Those things would only get in the way of the task ahead of you.

As the last flames go out with a wet hiss, one of Alvorine’s three blue white suns vanishes behind the treetops. You know the other two will be quick to follow. And you don’t have anywhere to spend the night. You wouldn’t mind sleeping with your back propped against a tree. You’ve done it often enough. But it’s winter, and the air is already cold and will be even colder once the other two suns set too. And you just lost every blanket, every single piece of fabric that could keep you warm in a small inferno. You know this is just an excuse, a comforting lie you tell yourself. The truth is you cannot spend a minute longer on this clearing, even if that means you have to walk the four miles to the next settlement. You’re so exhausted you cannot feel your legs, but you don’t care. Anything is better than spending the night here, even collapsing in the middle of the dark forest.

You leave the shovel where you stand and walk to the edge of the clearing, swallowing around the lump in your throat, trying to hold down more tears that are threatening to spill over and down your cheeks. Once you reach the edge of the forest, where the air is a bit clearer, you take a deep breath and turn around to look at the ruins of your home, now nothing more than a black pile of rubble. You have nothing, nothing but the clothes you’re wearing, not even a small trinket to remind you of Brea and the many happy hours you spent here tending to your fields, sweeping the front porch or sitting around the fireplace sharing supper. Even remembering how you worked on menial chores now feels like the most precious memory, one you will hold onto until your last breath. Because even though they have taken everything from you, they can’t take away the memory of Brea’s laugh.

***

They stare at you as you enter the inn. They stare and then look away. They can’t bear your presence because it reminds them of their own guilt. Not one of them came to your aid this morning, not one of them came afterwards to offer help. And you ignore them too because there is nothing left to say. All you want is some food and a dry place to sleep before you turn your back on them forever.

You sit down at a small table in a dark corner. The patrons around you either turn their backs to you or stand up to move their meals and conversations someplace else. It’s as if you’ve been marked. If you had any strength left in you, you would call them out on their behavior. Shit, you would wreak havoc, and only stop when the last one of them is on their knees begging for forgiveness. But you’re glad you’re too exhausted because your sudden hatred for everyone and everything scares you. The villagers don’t deserve to fall victim to your rage. There is nothing they could’ve done. They are just as defenseless and helpless as you. Would you have come to their aid if your positions were reversed? You would like to think so, but just because it gives you a false sense of moral superiority. Deep down you know the truth. Deep down you know you would hide too, praying that you would be spared.

As you dig into your bowl of soup, you realize how hungry you are. Even though everything tastes like ash in your mouth, your stomach is glad to have something to clench around when your thoughts stray to this morning’s events again. And you know there’s no need to punish yourself by refusing your body the nourishment it needs. The opposite, in fact – you know you’ll need all the strength you can get if you’re really going after them.

As you swallow one ashy bite after the other, you let your eyes wander around the room, looking for something that will distract you from your thoughts and your feelings of guilt. Everyone avoids your gaze; everyone acts as if your corner is empty. Everyone … except one stranger.

He sits in a booth close to the bar, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze on you. Or at least you think he’s looking at you – he’s wearing a helmet that covers his entire head, the kind you’ve seen twice before in this corner of the galaxy. He’s a Mandalorian, a bounty hunter, and his presence here doesn’t really surprise you. Even though actually seeing one is a rare occurrence, stories about them are countless.

Alvorine is a planet without laws, a planet that lives by its own rules, so many criminals decide to hide out here while they wait for their crimes to be forgotten. There is no military presence on the planet, no judicial system, no one to catch and punish the wrongdoers. The planet follows the rules of whoever is in charge, which changes frequently, but none of the powerful people have enough resources to enforce those rules anyway. Disputes are often just settled by the parties involved in whatever way they see fit. Only the Mandalorians, who are hired by people on other worlds, by people who have never experienced what it is like to live on Alovrine, are brave enough to get involved in those disputes. You have to admit you do feel a tiny bit curious as to why that particular Mandalorian is here ... who hired him? And who is he hunting?

You tentatively let your gaze wander over his stoic body, over the beskar covering his arms and chest, over the bandolier wrapped around his upper body, over the visor hiding his eyes. If you had one like him on your side, you wouldn’t need to worry about getting your revenge. He would catch those men in the blink of an eye. And if you paid him enough, he would do to them whatever you wanted.

He would cut off their limbs but keep them alive long enough to feel it.

He would make them run for it, give them the illusion of hope, only to crush it like their bones.

He would let you watch, let you choose whatever punishment you saw fit.

You shift in your seat because you can almost smell the blood, you can hear a faint echo of their screams, and it makes you feel light-headed and nauseous, but also elevates you, lifts a weight off your shoulders, even if just for a brief moment.

But he’s not here to do your bidding. And when you lift your head again, he’s gone.

You finish your bowl of soup and then decide to rent a room upstairs for the night. You don’t have a place to stay anymore and it’s too dangerous to start your pursuit while it’s dark. The forest belongs to dangerous creatures during the night, more dangerous than any man out there. And you’re planning on staying alive for just a little while longer.

You stretch and yawn and move to get up when your path is suddenly blocked. It happens so fast you don’t register anything at first apart from the cold, hard beskar chest plate that is level with your face. Its unexpected appearance makes you lose your balance and you fall back down onto the bench you’ve been sitting on. The Mandalorian extends his hand, his fingers closing around thin air. It’s a half-hearted attempt to stop your fall, and it comes too late – your backside has already painfully collided with the hard wood.

“May I join you?” His voice sounds distorted through the modulator in his helmet. He sounds like a machine, not like a being with a heartbeat.

You want to tell him no, want to tell him to fuck off, but for tonight you have no fight left in you. So you nod.

He sits down and you expect to hear the clink of his armor, expect to feel a tremor when his heavy body comes to rest on a stool opposite you. But there is no sound, no movement, and the lack makes you sit up straighter. This isn’t just another cowardly villager you can get rid of by glaring at him … this is an apex predator.

You swallow with some difficulty. “Can I help you?” you ask, your voice level, your eyes resting on his glove-clad hands lying on the table. You figure you’re safe as long as you can see them.

At first, he doesn’t say anything. He just looks at you. Or at least you think he’s looking at you. You cannot see his eyes behind the tinted visor. No matter how uncomfortable the situation makes you feel, you try not to move … you try not to show any sign of weakness, to give him any excuse to lunge across the table and strangle you.

Finally, he answers. “I’m looking for work.”

Now you cannot help but move. You exhale sharply, and with that release of breath comes a release of tension as you slump backwards, your back hitting the wall behind you. You cross your arms over your chest. “I can’t help you,” you say. You don’t have any work to offer him, no work worthy of the skills of a Mandalorian who usually hunts down important people, kings, merchants, people who influence the course of the galaxy’s history. Following a few lowly bandits is not the work he’s used to. You don’t even want to tell him about it because you know he’d take it as an insult. And even if - by some miracle - your quest for revenge would be deemed a worthy cause in the eyes of the Mandalorian, you couldn’t afford his services.

The slightest movement of his helmet is the only reaction your answer gets out of him. Whether he shifts because he’s surprised or because he’s angry, or whether his scalp itches under the metal you cannot tell.

Still, you feel the need to explain yourself. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any money.”

Shit, that’s the wrong thing to say. It implies you have work for him, but that you’re too poor to pay him. For all you know, this could be a grave insult in Mandalorian society.

His fingers on the table clench around thin air again. “What can you offer?” he asks.

He doesn’t want to know about the job, the quarry as you know they call it. No, he just wants to know how much he can earn.

“240 credits,” you answer. It’s all you have. You won’t need it anymore.

He tilts his head and you expect him to refuse, but then he says, “That’s enough.”

You’re taken aback, surprised. He’s caught you off-guard. You were fully prepared to see him walk away at hearing the ridiculously low amount of money you just offered. “You don’t even know what the job is,” you protest. The last thing you need is a Mandalorian hunting you down because you’re not paying him enough.

“They told me,” he says with a nod behind him.

You follow the movement with your eyes and see heads whip to the side, gazes wandering downwards, you notice conversations being picked up again. White hot fury fills you, more powerful than the flames that destroyed your house.

“They had no right,” you press out through clenched teeth.

The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything. He sits still like a statue, unwavering, as you fight a small battle with yourself. You should leave without looking back. Messing with a Mandalorian is even more dangerous than the task ahead of you. But he’s offering you something invaluable, something no amount of credits can get you: a chance. If you go alone, you’ll be dead in about a week. There’s no use pretending you’ll get out of it alive. But if you accept the Mandalorian’s help – his services, you have to remind yourself – you might make it through two. You might get to see your dreams of revenge become reality.

You sigh deeply as a heavy weariness settles over you. You’re exhausted, and now that all the adrenaline has left your body, you can feel all the small cuts and bruises today’s labors have left behind. And you feel empty … cold and empty, and utterly alone.

The Mandalorian still doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t defend the villagers, he doesn’t tell you what he knows about you or the job, he doesn’t try to persuade you to take him up on his offer, nor does he walk away from it. He just sits there and waits for you to make up your mind, as if it’s all the same to him. And it probably is. Either he goes with you and earns some money, or he doesn’t and looks for work elsewhere. He is completely detached from the whole affair. There is no emotional investment, just a job that needs to be done.

He doesn’t care if you live or die, he just cares if you pay him or not.

This realization is what finally helps you make up your mind. “I want to hire you,” you say, your tongue heavy in your mouth. All you really want is to sleep.

There is no reaction for the longest time but then the Mandalorian nods. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something, give him details or explain the specifics of the job to him. But before you can decide what to say next, he stands abruptly.

“I’ll be back in a few days,” he says before turning around.

Your brain needs a moment to catch up but when it does, you’re already on your feet. “Wait,” you say, and to your surprise the broad, steel-clad man listens to you.

He doesn’t face you, but he stops.

You briefly consider asking him if you can accompany him, but you don’t. You don’t have to ask, you get to decide.

“I’m coming with you,” you tell him.

You tell a stranger, a dangerous one at that, one who makes his money by making other people’s lives a living hell, that you will travel with him through dark, deserted forests where no one will stop him from taking what he wants from you instead of earning it, where no one will come to your aid should he not honor the deal you apparently just made with him. And you don’t care. Because no matter what he will do to you, it can’t be worse than what has already been done.

But all your worries and fears focus in on just one tiny aspect of this whole, fucked-up situation when he says, “I work alone.”

You don’t want to negotiate. This shouldn’t even be up for debate. You’re his employer now, you get to decide how things are done. But if you insist on this, he could just walk away from you. And you cannot let that happen now that you’ve had an idea of what it would be like to have a Mandalorian on your side.

“We’re not a team,” you say. “Think of me as an interested party. As someone who is fascinated by your work.”

You’re not sure if that is the right thing to say. His shoulders move, but he still doesn’t turn around. When he speaks again, you know it was the wrong thing to say.

“I work alone or not at all.”

You don’t want to accept that. You want to be there when those men are punished for what they did. You don’t want to wait around for the Mandalorian to come back, not when you don’t have anywhere to wait around in. You’ve lost everything. Had he talked to the villagers as he claims, he would know this. Or maybe he does. Maybe he knows you lost your home today but doesn’t care. He doesn’t even know the definition of the word home. It means nothing to him.

You take a deep breath. “Then I won’t be needing your services.”

This finally makes him turn around. Everything in you screams for you to take a few steps back, to put yourself out of his reach. You can feel the atmosphere between you shift – he draws back his shoulders, makes himself even taller than he already is. And you know, you just know, that refusing his offer, that backtracking on your agreement is the worst mistake you made tonight.

You’re pretty sure that not honoring a deal is the worst insult to a Mandalorian.

“Going alone will be your death,” he says when you cannot bear the tension a second longer.

“What’s it to you?”

The words are out. They are a challenge, one you didn’t mean to make, one you shouldn’t have made, but it’s done now. Your hand begins to tremble, and your feet grow cold with fear as you prepare yourself for his reaction. You don’t know if he will hit you, tie you up, torture you, or just kill you on the spot. He could do all of these things without having to fear any repercussions. You curse yourself for not having been more careful, for making this fatal mistake, because now Brea will go unavenged. Just because you couldn’t keep your damn mouth shut, just because you’re stubborn and hot-headed and oh so stupid.

But to your surprise, the Mandalorian shrugs. He lifts his broad shoulders, then lowers them again as your eyes follow the movement. But he’s not giving you anything more: He doesn’t insist on going alone, he doesn’t turn around and leave, he just keeps standing opposite you, motionless, emotionless, until you’re convinced you imagined the shrug.

So you decide to make the next move by removing yourself from this situation before he changes his mind and drags you back to his ship to do whatever he wants to you. You take a deep breath and start to step around him, a movement that is almost impossible to complete in this small space you’re both in. But you attempt it, nevertheless. When you’re level with him, doing your best not to brush up against him so you won’t enrage him, you hear his voice. It’s just one sentence, four words, but for some reason it sounds so much more human than it did when he was opposite you. Maybe it has something to do with the distance between his helmet and your ear, maybe it’s the angle from which the sounds hit your eardrums or maybe it’s because you feel light-headed, dizzy with the realization he hasn’t killed you yet and probably won’t.

He says, “Have it your way.”

You stop right next to him, staring ahead at a group of three men who do their best not to look at you. But you don’t see them anyway. In fact, you don’t see anything at all because the rushing sound in your ears drowns out everything else, even other senses.

“You can come with me,” he says, and it’s the first time he has spoken two sentences in a row. “But you do as I say.” Three. “If I tell you to run, you run.” Four. “If I tell you to get out of the way, you do so.” Five. “And if I tell you to kill, you kill.” Six.

Then nothing, just the faint sound of his deep breaths through the modulator.

Your thoughts are racing, tripping over their own feet like children running down a hill, and they’re unbearably loud. Everything is loud suddenly, from the sound of the barkeep filling a glass to the way that woman over there is chewing her food. The only thing that’s quiet is the last one you would have suspected to be so: the Mandalorian. Now he is waiting for you to say something and as he does, he balls his hand into a fist and then releases the tension again, over and over like a nervous tic, like he needs an outlet for the tension in his body, the tension you have no idea he is feeling until you see his arm flex beneath the fabric covering it.

But, once more, you’re at war with yourself. You don’t know what to tell him. There is still that shimmer of hope on the horizon, the light that makes you believe you stand a chance if you bring him along. But his terms … you’re not sure if you can accept them. He doesn’t know Alvorine or the men you would be hunting half as well as you do. And you’ve never been one for following orders. So if you feel that his assessment of a situation is wrong, you’re not sure you’ll be able to run just because he tells you to.

You have a feeling that defying his orders would be the most dangerous thing you could ever do, even more dangerous than hunting down a group of ruthless bandits who like to torture and kill for fun.

“All right,” you say finally.

His fist unclenches one last time and he exhales slowly.

“But when we find them,” you swallow hard, once, but your mouth is completely dry, “I get to decide what happens to them.”

The Mandalorian turns toward you so abruptly that you almost lose your balance. You lean back and hit your elbow on the wall behind you. The pain makes you curse under your breath.

“Agreed,” he whispers. He sounds like a machine again, as if everything that makes him human is shut away beneath that cold, hard, invaluable beskar steel. You too feel cold suddenly, cold and afraid. “But until then you do as I say. Understood?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. He is too close to you, and drowns out everything else, even the sounds that you considered to be too loud mere seconds ago. If he wouldn’t be wearing a helmet, you would be able to feel his breath on your cheek. He takes up your field of vision almost entirely. You’ve never felt more on display, and yet more hidden. And you know that if you say the wrong thing now, it will have terrible consequences.

So you just nod again.

“We leave in the morning,” he tells you, then turns around suddenly and leaves, his cape trailing behind him.

All sounds come rushing back at once, as if you’ve just emerged out of a pool of water. You release your breath quickly, only now realizing you’ve been holding it. Then you slump back against the wall, a shaking, quivering mess.

***

tag list: @bella-ciao​, @filthybookworm​, @frannyzooey​, @khalysa​, @leannawithacapitala​, @mothandpidgeon​, @mrsparknuts​, @mxsamwilson​, @piscespussybabe​, @something-tofightfor​

[fictional-men-ruin-lives]

Weakness (Fives x GN!Jedi!Reader)

Self-indulgent fic inspired by almost having an anxiety attack at work.

TW: angst, hurt/comfort, some description of injuries, anxiety/panic attack

Words: 2.2k

Note: cursive= reader’s thoughts

If it seems chaotic, good, that was on purpose

_____________________________

To say the mission wasn’t going as planned was an understatement.

To start off, your transport was shot down, landing you way too off course from the objective, too close to the enemy. The clanking of droids could be heard from where you were, of course if anything could be heard over the screaming of troopers injured and still trapped within the burning vessel, shots being fired, and commands screamed by the ARC troopers. You had to act quickly if you were to save any of the trapped men- the ship could explode any minute now, fire being way too close to the fuel tanks.

“Jesse, head count! Fives, take a couple men and help those inside once I get it open! Rest- covering fire!” You screamed the orders as you cut some of the metal parts with the lightsaber. It took all your focus to lift and hold them so that the whole structure wouldn’t collapse, making a way for the others to get inside and take out as many men as possible. They were doing it too slowly, the fire swallowing each part of the ship faster and faster, surrounding you in waves of smoke. The intensifying sounds of blasters and yelling were of no help.

“General, everyone’s out!” Fives screamed while dragging out the last now unconscious trooper. Just as they stepped out, you let the parts of the ship fall. You haven’t even realized how much smoke you inhaled, too busy Normally you would have needed a moment to stabilize yourself again after this much forced focus but now there was no time. Your men were screaming status reports through the comms, informing that the enemy battalion is approaching fast. There was not enough time for everything that needed to be done.

“Kix, get the wounded to the back, see if you can find some cover and call for extraction!” you looked towards the medic, he nodded, letting you know he heard the order. He proceeded to call some men and give orders; you could come back to the current situation.

“Okay, okay.” You whispered to yourself.” Status report!”

“Three units are closing in from North, another five are two clicks from here, east!” someone responded.

That was not good. Not good at all.

You looked around frantically, quickly thinking of a plan. Your squad was small, the mission was supposed to be focusing on infiltration, not direct combat. Now that around fourth of your men were either wounded or taking care of the wounded, there was no way you’d be able to slip through to the target location.

It was questionable if you’d even make it out alive at this point.

You were looking around frantically, trying to finally assess where you were and if there were any advantages to the terrain. Kix almost had everyone behind a huge rock formation looking like a basin, enough place to land another small ship. They were covered from the sight. To the sides were small hills, with more rocks that you’d need to climb. The path to the left was open but there was a river flowing there, from the looks of it the current was quite strong. The droid units were closing in on you at the front and you could already spot the first ones on the rocky hills to the right.

Constantly looking to the sides, you were trying to quickly come up with a plan. Your mind was working full speed.

“General, give orders!” your commlink echoed and brought you back to reality.

You had no idea. It was all too fast, too much. If you just had some more time to breathe, if only you could stop for a moment.

You started to feel a tightness in your chest, as if a weight to settling in and growing with each minute. No, no, no, not now.

“Jesse, take the best men and try to get across the river, go forward with the mission and get to the target point. Fives, you and the rest stay here with me and charge, we need to redirect the clankers away from the wounded and we need to get away from the ship!” your voice sounded surprisingly steady, but you could feel your head spinning.

A deep breath was all you could allow yourself to do before you had to move out.

In the meantime, Fives was glancing at you every now and then between blasting the nearest droids, knowing what’s going on. He’s seen it too many times with soldiers, either at the battlefield or after the battle. Your movements were to hectic, too unfocused as you led the men forward. He could see that your hand trembled lightly as you reached for the lightsaber, steadying it by grabbing the hilt with another hand. Everyone followed suit and went forward while Jesse and three other men split from the group and went to the commanded direction.

Just as everyone moved away, the ship exploded, sending some troopers to the ground. As you were able to focus only on one thing at once- in this case to go forward and take the attack head-on, you were completely unprepared for the explosion. The wave pushed your body forward and you lost your balance but before you landed on the ground, a strong hand gripped your arm and pulled you back to your feet in one swift motion. His presence, as much as you were physically unable to pay attention to any more things, was more calming than stressful.

You glanced back quickly, Fives now standing behind you and shooting the droids from behind you. His calmness gave you a bit of strength to further suppress that heaviness in your chest and try to take longer breaths instead of the shallow breathing.

Just a bit longer, I can manage that.

“General, we’re behind the enemy lines, should be proceed to the target or attack?”

“General, the evac is on the way, but we’re losing Havoc!”

“We don’t have a lot of ammo left; someone go forward!”

So many voices and commands and requests. And the droids were no helping with collecting your thoughts. You just prayed you’d still be able to deflect the shots and not get hurt because of the distraction.

“Jesse, forward. Kix, I will try to reach you, just give me a moment! I… well, then…”

Your voice was breaking at the last sentence. And it took all your willpower to fight your body to move as you slashed through the droids in the first lines.

Before you could collect yourself enough to give the command, you heard Fives over the comms.

“Thermal detonators, rotary two and seven, forward!”

The troopers stepped forward, firing at the unit, and taking down a huge part of it with the detonators. Now the decision was yours, either stay and help here or run back and save Havoc. Meanwhile, you had to constantly look around you to make sure none of the droids you were now in between could shoot you. Slowly, you made your way back to your men, automatically looking for Fives. His presence was grounding, even if it was decreasing the stress level by a little bit.

He nodded to you, at least it seemed like nodding considering he had his helmet on and tilted his head slightly to direct you to the back, where Kix and the wounded were. You didn’t question, trusting him, and just sped to reach the soldiers as soon as possible.

“Alright boys, till the general is back, we have to hold the position by ourselves. That’ll be fun.” His light comment didn’t ease you one bit, you knew exactly how the situation looked like and you were all desperate at this point.

You reached Kix fast, not even feeling the small rubble hitting you as the heavier canons split the ground and hills around you and made the rocks scatter in pieces. The men were laying on the ground, the medic kneeling beside one of them and just applying another bacta patch to his injuries.

It looked bad. Really bad. Havoc’s top of the armor as well as blacks were removed to show a horrible burn and a metal rod piercing his shoulder just between where the plastoid would be. There was a lot of blood.

You quickly kneeled next to Kix and closed your eyes, trying to focus and use the Force to sense what exactly needed to be done. But whatever you did, the constant shots, the screaming of a shot soldier, troops shouting and Kix telling you something that you couldn’t quite hear, all of that made it impossible. And the more you were realizing you may not be able to do it, the harder you tried to calm your racing nerves.

Come on, come on, you can do it.

But you couldn’t. The heaviness was now fully pulling your body down, your mind tried to split itself in so many different directions you couldn’t handle all of them. But if you didn’t, Havoc could die.

Your hands started shaking and despite knowing fully well that it was a fool’s errand, you tried to shut everything out. The Force was with you, you knew it, but you weren’t strong enough to direct it in the right way.

It was impossible. No, no, but you had to. You started to panic and your mind was now unable to stop, racing down the spiral.

You had no idea how much time has passed when someone grabbed your arm and lifted you from the ground, you opened your eyes and stumbled as the hand on your lower back guided you towards the open evac ship. When did it even arrive? Confused, you looked to the side and saw it was Fives guiding you in, almost all of the troopers were now on deck, the last of the wounded being taken inside as you stepped in. The doors closed and soon enough the clanking and all the sounds of battle were left behind.

You managed to reach the furthest corner of the ship to hide before your legs gave up on you. You dropped to your knees, trying to catch your breath, to just take control of your head but it was too late. Tears started to go down your face as you clutched the robe right over your heart, desperate for air. The adrenaline you were running on was gone so now it hit you all at once. Resting your head on the cold metal of the ship, you leaned on your arm placed above your head. Your whole body felt empty but so so heavy.

The appearance of a calming presence settling over you and helped you to deepen your breathing a bit, catching a bit more air.

“It’s alright.” Fives whispered to you softly as his arm went around your shoulder, slowly and delicately guiding you away from the wall and into his arms. His helmet was laying on the ground. You could feel his warm breath on the back of your head as you buried your head in between his neck and the plastoid armor, small sobs finally escaping you and allowing to gasp for air frantically. He was rubbing soothing circles on your back. Your body leaned forward, seeking warmth and comfort and Fives was holding you close as the sobs were shaking your body, being the support you needed.

“You did so well, cya’rika. We’re all okay.” He whispered to your ear and kissed your temple before his hand was put softly on the back of your head. He hugged you tighter, the protective gesture making your small frame disappear in his embrace.

You felt so vulnerable. Being a Jedi meant never losing your cool and be able to handle any situation put before you, no matter how hard or stressful. And yet here you were, struggling to control your sobs and not able to even heal your own solider due to stress.

Pathetic.

“Can you stand up?” Fives asked quietly after a while when the sobbing calmed down a bit. Nodding, you collected yourself and tried to lift yourself up, but your legs felt like jelly. Feeling that, the clone quickly adjusted his hold on you and put his arm around your waist, lifting you up a bit and then supporting you.

“Breathe with me, okay?”, you nodded again and focused just on what Fives was telling you to do, following his actions. He never let go of your waist as you did breathing exercises together for a moment, just until you were breathing normally again.

“I thought I was stronger than this.” Your quiet voice was barely audible in the sounds of the engine, but Fives caught that. He brushed some loose strands of hair from your face and swiftly put his hand on the back of your neck. He pressed his forehead to yours, closing his eyes, prompting you to close yours too. This felt oddly calming and reassuring, the intimacy of the moment brushing off all the worries and overthinking going in your head. Even combating the exhaustion after being completely overwhelmed by emotions and tiring yourself out. It felt right.

“You’re strong. But you’re also human and have all the rights to feel overwhelmed, okay? You’re never alone in this, let me carry some of the pressure, cya’rika.”