#and forcibly takes the helmet off to bring him back stands out to me

[toxicanonymity]

Hiii how’s Ezra and his menace of a reader?? I hope he’s still fraught with guilt bc damn that’s hot

No pressure to write or whatever I just think about them half the day (the other half is for nw)

Ezra drabble 3

700, Ezra x f!reader

Last one: Ezra pt. 2, you baited/tricked him into somnophiling you

WARNINGS: I8+ AU where you can be briefly exposed outside. Degradation. Manhandling. Outdoors. Dubcon P in V. References to somnophilia. I feel like you or an anon asked what would happen if he found out but I can't find the msg sry. Unedited!

Ezra’s quiet the next day. You let him sweat it out for hours, making comments about how you’re tired, sore, asking him if anything happened. The tortured look on his face makes you tingle. He wants to confess. You can’t believe he fell for it, after all your involvement and encouragement during . . .the act. He really thinks you were talking in your sleep.

Finally, you put him out of his misery and degrade him about it. You're standing in the shade of a mossy tree when you chide, “So, Ez. . ." You lower your brow and cock your head at him. He swallows and looks at you with big eyes, and you ask, "Are you man enough to give it to me when I'm awake?"

His face changes as he grabs the fabric of your jumpsuit by the chest and shoves you up against the tree. You add, “or is the sleep what gets you off—ohhh shit, ohhhh”

He tightens his grip on your jumpsuit and slams you back against the tree. “I fear I thought too much of you, little bird. You're nothing but a common pigeon.” His nostrils flare. “And all your cooing is growing tiresome.” His eyes darken with the intent to intimidate, but you see his animal lust through the gaping black holes of his pupils. He’s right up against you. You reach down to grab his crotch. His cock is warm and semi-hard. You tingle and your panties moisten, already wet from torturing him.

You press your palm into his arousal between each word: "you. . .absolute. . .creep." He glares at you as he swells harder against your palm and you cradle your fingers around the growing bulge.

His jaw clenches, he snarls, and he shakes his head in anger. He releases the front of your jumpsuit only to forcibly remove your helmet, then unzip your suit and feverishly tears it down along with your underwear as you smirk in satisfaction. He takes off his helmet, too. He leaves it all at your feet then turns you around and shoves you chest first against the tree, the moss cushioning the harsh bark on only one side of your body. He’s pinning you there with an elbow as he unzips himself.

He presses his exposed mouth up against the nape of your neck and his breath is humid in your hair. “How sad to beg me like the filthiest fowl for a scrap of cock,” he bites as he frees his stiff manhood from his underwear. He presses his body all the way up against yours. He knees your legs apart, his jumpsuit still on, just unzipped, in contrast to yours pooled fully at your feet. Without his helmet on, you can hear every little sound he makes. He grunts as he lines himself up and as soon as he’s notched at your entrance he stuffs himself inside you with a weak groan. As your body adjusts, he pulls back his cock and says “Take your scrap, little bird.” Then he shoves the whole length into you and says, “No, take it all,” then bottoms out with a grunt. He rails you mercilessly against the tree, breathing heavily, moaning like it pains him every time he buries his stiff cock in your tight little hole.

"I suspect you would take anything," he pants. "Anywhere." He thrusts into you harder. Every word, Every moan, brings you closer until you're whimpering. "Oh Lord," Ezra breathes. "Look at you," he exhales an ill humored laugh. "Already fallin' apart between me and this bark." He braces his hand on the tree as he fucks you harder, sweating, stinking up the air.

He brings his mouth to your ear and shudders with a deep thrust. His next breath sends you over the edge. You whine as you cum on his cock. "Ezra," you moan, "god," you pant, "what the hell." You flutter around him, getting exactly what you wanted.

He slams his cock into you harder than ever and rasps, "now you'll take this seed, pigeon," plunges to the hilt again and erupts with a groan. He moans and whimpers and slowly thrusts as he empties his load into you.

As you catch your breath, you say, "you fucking creep."

-------

thank you for reading 🙏

Ezra Tags: @littlegreendove @sp00kymulderr @bearsbeetsbeskar @ezras--moon @kyloispunk

[daydreamerdrew]

back-up story to The Flash (1959) #312, as republished in Immortal Doctor Fate (1985) #3

[mudhornchronicles]

that cantina | din djarin

^ not my gif

pairing: din djarin x f!bartender reader 

warnings: sexual themes and outfits, cursing, adult thots...

fic inspired by this post by @flightlessangelwings 

a/n: this is my first time publishing on tumblr and writing about my beloved tin can. so pls bare with me. also pls enjoy the read + the little divider thing i just made and s/o to @jangohshit​ for the awesome url 

masterlist

As she picks up her 50 owed credits and wipes away the watery rims on the streaky mahogany bar top left by a patron’s 6th glass of cold spotchka, she commends the Dug’s ability to walk out of the cantina without crashing onto the floor. Dugs may be small and slender, but Maker can they hold their liquor. With the amount of people in the stuffy, ill-lit cantina, she would expect the Dug to bump into something or someone in his alcohol-driven state.

Unfortunately for her, she did not get to see the amusing sight. Instead, she began to sense the sudden feeling of being watched. She discreetly scopes out the cantina and is immediately met with the intimidating figure and intense stare from a very familiar beskar helmet. She smirks over at the Mandalorian and give a slight nod to guide him over to her side of the risqué cantina.

This cantina in particular, located in the outskirts of Canto Bight, was known for the racy atmosphere once you stepped through the door. Many cantinas liked to keep it simple and vintage with a bar top, tables, and space to walk through. This specific cantina was not that. Whether you were looking to have a drink and observe the bartenders clad in lingerie or pay and party with ladies of the night, everyone knew this cantina as that cantina.

She met him about 3 cycles ago. He was looking for a Gungan gone rogue and his tracking fob led him to Canto Bight. When he had asked about the bounty to people in the city, they all told him that he’d find the bounty at that cantina. He began to get frustrated, but then he saw her. As she walked to work, she’d caught his eye. He walked over to her and she smiled at him. Mando had never had someone just smile at him, and Maker did her smile ignite something in him. She walked with him to the cantina with her walking in first and him following minutes later. When she caught his eye again, it was for a very different reason.

The worn leather bustier she wore emphasized her chest so much that Mando had to make sure his visor was not distorting the image in front of him. She wore a yellow and black plaid skirt and some heels whose laces wound up to her knee. He knew she was beautiful, but then he noticed the insincere smile she wore as she worked behind the bar. This job was supposed to be in and out – quick and simple. But meeting her made him want to let the bounty enjoy his 2,000 credits he just spent on a Pantoran lady. When he landed the first time, he told himself he’d never come back to that weird place. Yet, here he is again for what feels like the thousandth time.

She turns around to face the inside of the worn-down bar and adjusts her breasts in her obsidian-colored corset. She always wanted to look her best for her favorite client. She grabs a clean glass of water and turns back around to lean on the counter. All because she is the Mandalorian best view in the place, or at least that is what he's told her.  

“Me'vaar ti gar,” he coldly says to her.

She looks into his visor with a stern look. “Naas.”

A lighthearted sound comes out the beskar helmet as he lightly taps the counter and takes a seat. “Kandosii!”

“Don’t know what that means, but what will it be today, Mando? Business or pleasure?” She winks at him while his visor is set on her face. She doesn’t know that the man behind the visor has been in cantina for an hour prior to his approach just looking at the woman he can’t seem to shake off.

“There has never been pleasure, mesh’la. Just business,” he calmly says. She shrugs and passes him the glass of water.

“Never hurts to ask, right? Maybe one day you’ll change your mind,” she says jokingly. “So, tell me. What bounty are you looking for now? I can’t confirm or deny that I have any information for you tonight, but there was a suspicious Twi'lek that came in about an hour ago. He’s on the other side of the bar.”

He looks towards the green Twi’lek and nods. He puts the glass aside and gives her a once over. “When did you get that corset? Last time I was here, you had a purple one. The one with the lace trimming and black ties in the back.” She smiles and looks down. He remembers, she thought.

“It started to get worn down so I sold it for 25 credits. Better than nothing, but do you like it? I just bought it with the credits you oh so greatly left me the last time.” She lightly taps his gloved hand resting on the counter. “What did you say when you left it? Think of it as a tip for your information and all I told you was that there was no Rodian,” she laughs. A modulated chuckle leaves his helmet as he looks at the other bartenders in the place. All in lingerie, more revealing than hers. Although she was wearing a corset, which covered most of her torso, her legs were very exposed. A sight Mando forcibly had to rip away from every time he was here. His mind wandered every time.

The thought of running his bare fingers along the bottom of her smooth legs to the top of her supple thighs.

The thought of how they’d feel wrapped around his waist, bringing him closer to her as he fills her with the feelings he can’t verbally express to her yet.

The thought of her thighs pressing the sides of his head as he ea-

He is ripped out of the less than innocent daydream as she’s waving her hand in front of his visor. “Mandooooo. You in there?” His line of tinted vision focuses back onto her smiling face, the smile that haunts his dreams. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

She shakes her head and smirks. “I said if you need any information on a bounty! I have a client who wants me to join his little “get together” and is paying a good amount, so I don’t have much time.” She nudges her head up to a balcony set up in the cantina where other ladies are dancing for a group of Weequays.

He looks up and looks back at her. “How much ae they paying for you to waste your time with him?” She smirks and raises her eyebrow at the warrior in front of her.

“You jealous?”

“Jii, dala,” he warns.

She pouts and crosses her arms, which, in Mando’s eyes, only accentuates her chest. “No fair. You haven’t taught me that, yet.”

He sighs. He straightens up and leans a bit forward toward her. “Cyare, how much is he paying for you to go up there?”

She looks at his visor and feels as if she can look into the eyes of her beloved warrior. She looks back down at her hands. “3,000.”

“Dank farrik,” he whispers to himself. He looks down into his belt and counts the credits he currently has. A grand total of 1,400. He knows he can’t out-do 3,000 credits. He still must go out and get The Child and himself some supplies. They can’t survive on the old ration packs he had for emergency purposes.

Truthfully, she doesn’t want to go up there either. She was already given a new “uniform” by the Toydarian cantina owner for the night. A brown leather bra, black lace panties, black ripped stockings, and, weirdly enough, a pair of old brown boots. Weequays know nothing of fashion she thought to herself. As much as she knows Weequays can get touchy, she knows she can’t say no. She’s getting 1000 of those credits. A 33% share is a rare occurrence for Toydarians and she needs those credits if she wants to eat and have a roof over her head. She looks back at her Mandalorian and decides to lighten the mood.

“So do you like it or not?”

He turns and looks back at her. “Like what?”

She does a slow spin with the smile that can melt Hoth. “The outfit you bought me!”

“It’s nice,” he simply says, still not okay with her upcoming shift.

She abruptly stops and pouts. “Nice? I won’t be getting tips with a nice outfit, Mando. What if I unbutton the top buttons?” She goes to unbutton her corset and takes a step back when Mando suddenly grabs her hand to halt her actions.

“No.” He looks at her hand in his hand loosens his grip, but her hand remains in his. “I- I meant that you look nice in it. Not nice as in cute nice, but nice as in you look…” He stops speaking and looks at her. “You look… you look incredible. Any man would be lucky to have a woman like you at his arm.”

She feels almost giddy inside, as if her elementary school crush finally came up to say hello followed by her name. She looked at her hand in his as she felt a light blush form across her cheeks. “You really think so?”

Before he could answer, the aforementioned Toydarian cantina owner flies over to her all the while yelling her name. She immediately let go of her Mandalorian’s hand and acknowledges her boss. He begins yelling at her for not yet changing for her appointment with the Weequay group and she notices the beskar covered warrior tense. Mando stands and faces the Toydarian and begins to speak, but is cutoff by her.

“Don’t worry, boss. I was just wrapping up this client’s order. I’m going. You’ll get your 2000 credits.” She begins to push her boss away.

“You better make them happy. They’ve got loose pockets.” The Toydarian suddenly grabs her chin “If they say jump, you say how high. You got-“ She follows his gaze over to her Mandalorian, only to see him pointing a blaster at the Toydorian’s head.

“She’s going to do what she’s comfortable doing, you got that?”

Her boss chuckles and shakes his head at the bounty hunter. “She’s going to do what is going to make me money.”

She tries to interfere, but the bounty hunter grabs her boss by his face’s trunk. “Listen here, you oversized Kowakian. They aren’t going to touch her and she’s going to do her job. That’s it.” She tries to convince Mando to let the small creature go, but the warrior wasn’t done. “If I hear she was uncomfortable in even the slightest, it’s your trunk on my wall. Do you understand?” All she saw was her boss frantically nod in agreement and fly away as soon as Mando let go. She looks over at the Mandalorian she has grown to harbor deep feelings for.

“What the hell was that!”

He slides his blaster back into its holster and places some credits on the counter, more than what an untouched glass of water costs.

“You’re going to do your job and so am I. You see the biggest Weequay in the group?” she looks over and nods.

He activates the tracking puck, revealing that the Weequay leader was coincidentally his bounty. “Stars, Mando! If you are catching him, then why are you so worried about me going up there?” He looks over to her and shrugs.

“Why would I want you to be in that position?”

She smiles at him and lightly gives her own shrug. She checks the time and takes the still untouched glass of water. “Well Mando, it was nice to see you again. Should I expect you in the next couple of rotations?”

“Possibly.”

She lets out a small laugh and she takes the credits for the water, leaving the rest. Before he can protest, she catches him by surprise with her departing choice of words. “You know Mando, sometimes I think you might love me.” With that she laughs and waves a goodbye as she walks away to ready herself for the Weequays.

He watches her leave and his eyes direct themselves to her behind. Those small shorts that leave little to the imagination as they shape the swells of her ass beautifully. He is a man after all. He smiles to himself as he recalls her previous statement. He lets out a small chuckle as he stands to scope his bounty. “Yeah… might.”

mando’a translations:

Me'vaar ti gar [Meh-VAR tee-GAR] = How are you? (Lit. What’s new with you?)

Naas [nahs] = Good (Lit. Nothing)

per mandoa.org “Me'vaar ti gar = How are you? (Lit: what's new with you?) Can also be used to ask a soldier for a sitrep. If a Mando asks you this, they expect an answer; it's literal.. The response for *I'm fine thanks,* is *Naas.* (Literally - nothing. )”

Kandosii! [Kan-DOH-see] = Nice one! Wicked! Well done!

Mesh’la [MAYSH`lah] = beautiful

Jii [gee] = Now

Dala [DAH-lah] = Woman

Cyare [SHAH-ray] = beloved

tags:

@flightlessangelwings @din-damn-djarin

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Separation AU Part 1!

Requested by @grant-likes-minecraft. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Impulse and Skizzleman have lived in the same world together for decades, and that’s just the way they like it. But all that will change when one day, Impulse is summoned (literally) to the Hermitcraft server...

(Based on Impulse literally canonically being brought to Hermitcraft via summoning circle in season 3)

...

  “WHOAAAA!”

  With a yelp, Impulse dropped into a shallow hole over where he had just been walking. He stared upwards as he heard laughter and spotted the grinning face of his best friend a few blocks above him.

  “Skizz!” Impulse laughed indignantly. “This is like the oldest trick in the book!”

  “Uh huh, and you fell for it,” Skizzleman replied through his laughter. “Skizz: one. Dippledop: zero.”

  “Get me outta here and I’ll SHOW you zero,” Impulse snickered. “Got any ladders?”

  Skizzleman dropped a single ladder into the hole. At Impulse’s raised eyebrow, he giggled and dropped a few more, before stepping back and letting his best friend climb out of the hole. 

  Impulse shook his head amusedly at the grin on Skizzleman’s face. “Have you done your chores yet? Or did you spend the whole morning setting up that prank?”

  “Whaaaat? Does that sound like something I would do?”

  “Yup.”

  Skizzleman made eye contact with Impulse, causing him to giggle again. “Okay, yeah, I did.”

  Impulse chuckled as he started walking back towards the house, letting his best friend fall into step beside him. “It’s your turn to harvest and replant, buddy.” 

  “Aww, but it’s so boring,” Skizzleman complained, flipping around to walk backwards so he could talk directly to Impulse’s face. “Can’t we just skip chores for today and go to the beach?”

  Impulse scoffed. “Skizz-.”

  “C’mon, just look at that ocean.” Skizzleman threw his arm out to indicate the sparkling sea, just visible through the trees. “Can’t you hear it calling you? Don’t you wanna just dive into the cool, refreshing water and just relaaaaaax?”

  “You’re doing a great job of selling it, I gotta admit,” said Impulse amusedly. “Okay, we’ll go to the beach, but only if you do crops for the next two days.”

  “Done.”

  Skizzleman broke into a run, causing Impulse to laugh and pick up speed to catch up with him. 

  However, at just over halfway to the beach, Impulse skidded to a halt, realising his entire body had started to glow. “Uh, Skizz?”

  His best friend stopped a few blocks ahead of him. “What? Oh…! Wait, what’s happening?”

  As Impulse was staring down at his glowing hands, he felt himself be lifted slowly off the ground, the block around him glowing brightly.

  “Wh-What’s going on, dude?!” Skizzleman yelped. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m not doing anything!” Impulse started to panic. “Skizz, help me!”

  He reached out blindly and Skizzleman grabbed his hands. Impulse hung almost upside down in the air, as if something was dragging him upwards by his legs. He strained against the invisible force, focusing on holding onto Skizzleman’s hands as tightly as he could.

  But the pull was just too strong.

  “IMPULSE!”

  Skizzleman cried out as he felt Impulse’s hands slip from his. He toppled face-first into the dirt, but by the time he managed to push himself onto his back and look up, Impulse had disappeared.

  Impulse couldn’t stop screaming as he fell through a weird, terrifying vortex of swirling colours. He managed to angle himself so he was feet-first, but this did nothing to alleviate his fear.

  And then he landed.

  He stumbled as his feet hit the ground, but quickly regained his footing enough to not fall over. Blinking against the bright sunlight shining directly in his face, he realised he could see the slightly blurry outlines of three people standing a little way off, watching him.

  Just as he registered them, one of the figures rushed towards him and grabbed him in a tight hug. “Impulse! Oh my god, I can’t believe it actually worked! You’re actually here!”

  The person’s distinctive voice helped Impulse identify him immediately, and he was so shocked that he momentarily forgot his disorientation. “T-Tango?!”

  Tango released him and stepped back, an expression of pure joy on his face. “You’re really here! I can’t believe it!”

  “Wait, wait…!” Impulse frowned, his brain still trying to figure out what had just happened. He stared around and found himself in a brand new world, entirely different from the one he had just come from. “Where am I? And how did I get here?”

  Tango beamed. “You’re on Hermitcraft, buddy!”

  “And you got here through a… uh… sort of wormhole,” added an unfamiliar voice.

  Impulse turned to find a person wearing green armour and a purple helmet. 

  “Hi, I’m Xisuma,” the person said, giving a friendly smile. He indicated the suited person behind him. “This is Mumbo.”

  “Hi!” said Mumbo happily. “Welcome to Hermitcraft.”

  “I…” Impulse blinked, hardly daring to believe it. “I really am on Hermitcraft? But- But why did you bring me here?”

  “Because you belong here, Impy.” Tango gripped his friend’s shoulders. “I’ve been trying to bring you here for months and it never worked until now. I don’t really know what Xisuma did, but you’re finally here.”

  “What about Skizzleman, though?” Impulse asked urgently. “You’re gonna bring him here too, right?”

  Tango’s smile fell. He glanced back at Xisuma, whose shoulders drooped. “I… um… I tried to grab onto both of you and get you both here, but… it didn’t work for Skizzleman. There’s something in his code, something that didn’t let me latch onto him. I can’t bring him here. I’m… I’m sorry.”

  Impulse stared at him, his stomach lurching. “So… I-I’ll never see him again?”

  “Not never,” said Tango quickly. “Just…”

  When Tango failed to come up with anything else, Xisuma said, “The borders between servers and worlds are rocky at best. We can’t send you back or bring him here, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have a good life here.”

  “A good life?!” Impulse’s fists clenched. “How can it be a good life without Skizzleman?!”

  Xisuma held out his hands to steady him. “Impulse, please, calm down a moment and-.”

  “Calm down?! Y-You just plucked me out of my world without my consent! Forcibly separating me from my best friend! What gave you the right to make that decision for me?”

  “Impy-,” tried Tango.

  “Don’t Impy me!” Impulse’s voice cracked. “We’ve lived together for most of our lives; I can’t just abandon him!”

  “You’re not abandoning him.” Tango grabbed his friend’s hands soothingly. “You’re moving on to a new life, a better life. If Skizz is truly your best friend, which he is, he can’t possibly resent you for taking the opportunity.”

  “I…” Impulse hesitated. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye to him.”

  Xisuma winced and hung his head. “I’m sorry, Impulse.”

  Seeing how defeated Xisuma was, Impulse’s anger slowly ebbed away. He glanced back at the spot where he had been summoned, a lump rising in his throat. 

  “Impulse, this is the start of a new life for you,” Tango said gently. “And for me. Finally, you and I get to live on a server together. Imagine what we can do! The possibilities are endless.” 

  “But they’re not,” Impulse whispered. “Because Skizz isn’t here.”

  “Listen…” Tango hesitated. “You two have been together for… for god knows how many years. This change will be good for both of you.”

  “And I’ll keep investigating to see if we can bring Skizzleman here,” said Xisuma. “But in the meantime, your new life awaits you.”

  Impulse cleared his throat. While part of his brain wanted to scream and cry at being separated from his best friend, he couldn’t deny that he was excited about the chance to finally be on Hermitcraft, as a member of their family. So many more things were possible on a server than in a simple world, from building materials to redstone contraptions. And it wasn’t as if he would be alone; he had Tango, he had Xisuma and Mumbo, he had many other Hermits whom he hadn’t even met yet. 

  “Alright, then.” A smile slowly spread over Impulse’s face. “What first?”

  A spark ignited in Tango’s eyes. “Oh, first we gotta introduce you to all the other Hermits! Then we can talk about building bases. You and I could build one together! I’m thinking a giant underground base in maybe a nether style? There’s so many block palettes we can use and- oh, I think I might already have the perfect thing back at my-.”

  “Whoa, buddy, slow down,” laughed Impulse. “Let’s start with meeting the other Hermits, okay?”

  As Tango nodded happily, the phrase “other Hermits” reverberated in Impulse’s mind. He knew it would take a long time to get used to this change and wrap his head around the fact that…

   ...that he was a Hermit now.

…

  After six long, sleepless nights in the big house all alone, Skizzleman had finally given up and moved. With his limited building skills, he had managed to construct a small shack near to where Impulse had vanished. His spark, his passion for life, faded a little more with every day that passed. 

  Skizzleman exited his tiny shack and harvested the small amount of wheat next to the pond, before replanting it monotonously. He then used the wheat to make a few more pieces of bread for his stock. It wasn’t much but it was enough to get by. 

  After his chores were done, he made his way slowly towards the beach. The sand and the sea used to call to him, urging him to rush down there and have some fun. Not anymore.

  On his way, he passed the spot Impulse had disappeared from. No sunlight hit this block anymore. The small allium Skizzleman had managed to plant there was barely visible in the shade. 

  He lay down on the grass and stared morosely up at the sky, his hand resting on the dirt around the flower, his elbow bent slightly as if he had his arm over his best friend’s shoulder. Closing his eyes, tears trickled down his cheeks. 

  Skizzleman had never been so alone before.

[buglife]

Bend and Not Break - Ch 4: A Scar

Read here on AO3 :3

Contains 100% more smooches!

Xena stepped lightly as she opened the door to one of the interrogation rooms, narrowing her eyes as she adjusted to the dim light. The room had been quickly converted to a makeshift recovery room, the table that usually sat in the middle of the room had been pushed aside and replaced with a cot. Said cot was loaded with pillows and blankets in an effort to take as much pressure off the occupant's injuries as possible. Resting peacefully on it was Poppy, the scorpion rescued from the basement of a disgraced noble and had her venom forcibly extracted by torture. She seemed to be doing much better, her body was now criss-crossed with bandages and she was no longer twitching. She seemed to be sleeping at the moment.

She took a look at the clipboard left behind on the table where Monomon’s notes were scribbled. Electrical burns, blunt force trauma, eye damage, nerve damage...the list seemed to go uncomfortably long. She was glad she managed to get to her in time, but was disappointing that she and the other knights didn’t find out about the assassination plot sooner. Maybe they could have prevented a lot of suffering, but she couldn’t know for sure.

“Hello?” Poppy blinked awake, most likely from hearing Xena walk around. She was lying on her back and couldn’t twist her head to see who had entered the room. “Who’s there?” She asked, a tinge of worry to her voice.

“I am Xena, one of the Great Knights, I was there when you were rescued.” She pulled up a chair next to the cot and sat down. “Do you remember me?”

Poppy took a moment to breathe and then smiled the best she could through half a bandaged face. “I do.” She sounded coherent, but her speech was slurred and slow.

“You look much better,” Xena smiled in what she hoped was in a comforting way. “You must be on the good stuff, right?”

“Yeah.” Poppy didn’t bother trying to nod. “Nothin’ hurts. It’s great.”

“Well I won’t keep you long, I just need to ask a few questions and then you can go back to resting, okay?”

“Mmhmm.” The scorpion mumbled softly and did her best to focus her one working eye to the ant’s face. “I’ll try.”

“That’s all I’m asking for. Do you remember how you were abducted?” Xena had a quill and a tablet ready to take notes. “Take your time and try to remember what you can, okay?”

Poppy mulled over the question for a while, and started speaking. “I was at my flower shop in...in Deepnest. Some Hallownest bug came in...I asked if they wanted flowers...I grow flowers by the way and make them into arrangements. It’s nice.”

Xena nodded, knowing full well that she was on some of those good painkillers, and would probably will go off into tangents. “What kinda bug came in?”

“It was that um….beetle. Yes, that beetle. From...the place.” Poppy swallowed thickly, “Where they were...were...hurting me…”

“Don’t worry about him, he can’t hurt you anymore.” The ant put as much conviction as she could muster into her voice. “He won’t be hurting anyone else, after today.”

“Good,” She wheezed a little, catching her breath.

“What did the beetle want from you?” Xena pressed gently. “I think I could wager a guess but I need to hear it from you.”

“He uh...he asked to buy my venom...and I told him I sell flowers, not venom! It was weird...and creepy , and its against the law cause um...uh...it’s dangerous. You hafta have a license to get some and you get it from the...oh...what do you call it…” The scorpion hrmed to herself. “Oh I can’t remember, it’s the place where you can get dangerous stuff if you are a uh...professional? Scientist?”

“A supplier is what I think you mean. Where controlled substances can be given out dependent on research or medical use.”

“Yes! That! Well he got mad and started saying something about the fate of bug kind and how there was monsters in Hallownest? He said I should work with them to save everyone and I told him to leave cause I’m just a flower bug. And then something hit me on the back of my head.” She reached up with a free arm to touch the back of her bandaged head. It looked like a mess when she was first found and Xena was glad that Poppy couldn’t feel any pain right now.

“Then I woke up all tied up and the beetle was there with some other people. He said that I was going to help them get rid of the monsters and I told them I wouldn’t! Then they...they….” She sniffled, her eye tearing up.

“Then they hurt you and forcibly took your venom.” Xena knew when to stop asking questions. Poppy was starting to get a little upset, and she felt awful that she even had to bring up what happened to her so soon. But, she had to get this down for the record, and it was better to do it now while Poppy wasn’t in physical pain than wait and do it later.

Poppy nodded in response. “Mmhmm. I don’t know how long I was there.”

“That’s okay, Right now what I need from you is to rest and get better, okay? We’ll send word to your Queen and Princess and they’ll probably send someone over to help you home once you are well enough to travel.”

“Okay...thank you.” Poppy sighed. She wasn’t going to be able to stay awake anyway with the meds she was on and was quickly falling back into the realm of dreams. “There'll...be someone outside...right? Watching?”

“There are, I promise.” Xena nodded. “Nobody will let you get hurt again.”

“Mhmm...thanks…” Poppy fell asleep, a combination of reassurance and the ‘good stuff’. Xena took a bit of time to make sure she was comfortable, and then left the room. She glanced at the two guardsmen stationed outside.

“Nobody gets in that isn’t a Knight, the King, or Monomon, got it?”

They both saluted and stayed in place.

“Good...now excuse me, I have someone to see.”

She turned and headed towards the holding cells. The cells were kept underground, and as she descended the stairs she began to hear the annoying sound of metal scraping together. There was the sound of someone loudly complaining before descending into shrieks as the scraping got louder. She took a moment to rub her eyes and sighed, locking the gate behind her and stepping into the corridor.

Tiso was just sitting there, making god awful noises as he happily ran a fork over a metal plate. He was making sure to press extra hard, making terrible squeaking noises that made Xena’s antenna twitch under her helmet. The ex-noble within the cell was close to tears, looking around to Xena as soon as he saw her.

“Oh, oh bless you. Please! Please make him stop!” The jewel beetle was in the dirtiest cell they had, tear tracks marking his face and generally looking disheveled. He crawled to the bars on his knees, gripping the bars with shaky hands. “Please! It hurts!”

“I’m not even doing anything! I’m trying to serenade you with my beautiful music, you uncultured bastard.” Tiso scraped the fork loudly and it set the hairs on her carapace standing up and the beetle to cry out in pain. “It’s not my fault you can’t appreciate artistic talent. Frankly, I’m insulted.”

“That’s enough for now, Tiso.” Xena sighed and dug out her keys. “Monomon needs this guy and she’s going to be pissed if we’re late.”

“Oh?” He casually tossed the dishes to the side. “Going to be testing the antidote then?”

“Testing the what now?” The beetle looked around, confused.

“Most likely, yeah.” Xena ignored the beetle. “Now that she has a pure sample of the poison as well, she thinks she’ll know for sure if the antidote is legit or not after a couple hours.”

“Hours?” Said beetle was rapidly turning pale as he realized what was about to happen.

“Did I fucking stutter?” Xena snarled, opening the cell door. “Get your ass out here or else I’ll drag you out.”

“You can’t do that to me! I’m Lord Maximus Pennington Chrysoch the third!” They tried to dodge her hands, but she was too fast. She seized him by the wrists and began to bodily drag him out.

“I don’t give a fuck who you are! A traitor is a traitor to me.” She looked to Tiso. “Help me drag this sack of shit to Monomon and then you can take a break.”

“Hells yeah!” He jumped up, grabbing the free wrist of the condemned and hauled them to their feet. “Think I’ll have time to head to the museum to see Myla?” The beetle started wibbling and sobbing, but was completely ignored.

“Eh, take Cloth with you and you all can have an hour together. You’ll have to be back at a reasonable time though, we need all hands on deck with this situation.”

“Yeah I got ya. Thanks.” Tiso was noticeably happier, cheerfully dragging the sobbing beetle down the corridor and to their fate. He didn’t care what happened to them, all he could think about now was finally getting to smooch his girlfriends.

---

Monomon arrived outside the door to the royal suite, a capped syringe gripped gently but firmly in her tentacles. As soon as the antidote proved to actually work, and not just be another poison, she rushed as quickly as she could to the top floor. Hollow was standing guard outside of the room and nodded to her. Seeing that there wasn’t time for chit chat, she attempted to open the door.

To her surprise, it was blocked off. She looked at the knob, confused, and tried to push again. “What’s going on here?”

Hollow chirped to get her attention, and signed. <”Father is in there. I think he is sitting in front of the door.”>

“Mato? Of course he would.” She knocked on the door. “Mato! It’s Monomon!”

There was a shuffle from the other side, and the door was pulled open to indeed reveal the Nailmaster. He seemed rather rough looking, he must have booked it from the Howling Cliffs as fast as he could. “Monomon,” he nodded, and stood out of the way.

She floated inside to see what was going on, eyes immediately going to the nest that took up a good portion of the room.

Ghost was cuddled around Quirrel, doing their best to hold him in a way that would hopefully reassure him that someone was watching over him, but not tight enough to harm him. Quirrel was still unconscious, breathing heavily and shivering and once in a while his nerves would shudder, making him twitch and spasm. Ghost was already awake, no doubt hearing the door open. They looked at her, the dark fathomless eyes behind their mask tired and fearful. Their eyes darted from the door to the syringe held in her tentacle.

“Is that…” Their voice was so small and weak, but there was a bloom of hope behind it that Monomon could feel.

“Yes.” She drifted closer and uncapped the syringe. “We have it.”

They sat up quickly. “What do you want me to do?”

“Hold one of his arms still, I don’t want the needle to break if he has a spasm while injecting him.” She checked over the syringe, going over the calculations in her head one more time. She had already triple checked everything, but it wouldn't hurt to check it one more time. Ghost sat up, pulling Quirrel into their lap and used their lower set of arms to cradle him, and the top set to grasp an arm and hold it straight. Quirrel continued to shiver, making a raspy noise of discomfort from being moved.

“Good, like that.” With Ghost holding him, it was easy for her to find the joint in his elbow and sterilize it. Then, she injected the antidote slowly, watching the liquid within disperse into his hemo system.

“There…it should take effect soon.” She deposited the used needle in a box she carried to be sterilized later. “We may not notice a difference at first, but within half an hour he should be more comfortable.”

Ghost kept Quirrel in their embrace, resting their chin on his head and tucking him up close. “Thank you.” They said, moving slightly to adjust themselves. Monomon watched them tilt their head slightly, listening to his breathing as he continued to wheeze.

“How did you get that?” Mato had stayed back to let her do her thing, but now that there wasn’t any needles involved, he approached the nest again.

“A combination of work from the Great Knights, good old science, and some very helpful mandatory volunteers.”

“That’s fucking terrifying.” Mato took a step away from her.

“It’s what they deserved. They at least did something useful with their lives instead of just being executed.”

“How many prisoners are left?” Ghost’s mental voice was whisper quiet, as though they were scared that they were going to disturb Quirrel’s rest.

“I’m not sure. Tiso has the numbers. The ring leader is still alive, he was the lucky one who tested the antidote. What are you going to do about them?”

Ghost was silent for a moment, idly smoothing back Quirrel’s antenna as he lay in their embrace. “I think I will wait for Quirrel to weigh in on it all. He was...the most hurt.”

“He wasn’t the only one hurt,” Monomon drifted down to the floor to sit, curling her tentacles under herself. “There was another victim who is thankfully alive. You’ll have a report on that soon, but you may want to keep her in mind too, as well as yourself and my son.”

“It seems like the best thing to do is to let them stew in their own fear and guilt until you have a chance to deal with them.” Mato also sat, leaning against the wall. “They are not going to have any type of peace as long as they are down there with Tiso at the same time.”

Ghost actually chirped a laugh at that. “That is true.”

As they conversed, Ghost noticed Quirrel subtly shift a little over the course of twenty so odd minutes. His twitching was definitely dying down, leaving him still for the first time since he was poisoned. They could hear his breath change as well, the raspy wheeze was getting smoother and less labored. It would be a while before he was back to normal, but just being able to actually rest was something sorely needed for the pillbug.

“He’s doing better.” The vessel sagged in relief, tears once again welling up in their eyes. “He can breathe now.”

Monomon floated up from her position on the floor and placed a tentacle on the pillbug's forehead. She felt it for a moment before she spoke. “His fever has gone down.”

“He’ll be okay now, right? He’ll be okay?” Ghost shivered, black streaks dripping from their eyes as they pulled Quirrel closer to their chest.

“Yes Ghost, he’ll be okay.”

Ghost broke down into tears, a combination of relief, love, and the bitter fear of loss. Once they started they couldn’t stop, the emotional dam had broken. The sheer stress they had been bundling up for the past two days refused to be ignored any longer. Thick, choking sobs filled the room as they held their husband close. He’ll be okay, they won’t have to say goodbye so soon. They knew one day they would have to, but for now, he’ll be okay. He’ll live and they can continue to share the love that never ran out in their heart. He’ll be okay.

Mato and Monomon both embraced them, and for once, they let their family help them carry the huge amount of stress and emotions swirling around in their void. They kept repeating that simple phrase to themselves, over an over, to keep them grounded in the here and now.

He’ll be okay.

---

Myla hummed to herself as she looked over a crystal in her claws. She turned it around in the light, squinting through a monocular as she studied it’s structure. It was a beautiful fluorite specimen, still rough and unpolished. Broad bands of green, purple, and blues swirled around the stone in a rainbow of colors. She just needed to do a little cleanup on it and then it would be ready for display.

She looked at the basket of rocks on the floor next to her work station, all of them mined and found by her. She was pretty proud that she didn’t lose her knack for finding the beautiful and unusual. The infection left her unable to mine professionally anymore, but she had enough energy to go on little expeditions, following her heart as she explored the corners of the kingdom.

Of course, she didn’t go alone. Either Tiso or Cloth would come with her, keeping her protected as she jumped into holes to hack away at the rocks. She wasn’t very strong, but she can still knee cap people who threaten her, and she keeps her pickaxe nice and sharp. It was fun! Especially when she could spend the time with her partners.

She sighed, she hadn’t seen Tiso and Cloth for several days now. She knew what happened, the whole kingdom knew by now. She knew they had important work to do, but she still missed them.

As if the universe was listening to her thoughts, there was a knock on her office door. She glanced at her clock, it was about time for lunch. Maybe it was a coworker asking if she’d like something?

“Come in!” She called.

The door opened, and to her delight, her two knights tried to squeeze their way inside at the same time. Tiso gasped, smushed up against the door frame as Cloth tried to force her massive bulk through, getting equally wedged in.

“Cloth! Back up!” Tiso kicked his legs that were a good foot of the ground. The force of the attempt to beat Cloth inside had angled his body upwards to get stuck on the frame, one arm free and trying to pull himself free.

“No! You back up!” She retorted, trying to squeeze her shoulders in. “I want to kiss her first!”

“Like hell you -wheeze-” Tiso started going a little blue, a stark contrast to his black shell as he got squashed harder.

Myla never in her whole life, expected that she’d ever be a girl that someone would fight over, let alone two. She knew they were just playing around and joking with their fake little rivalry thing, it was endearing, but sometimes Cloth forgot her own strength. She remembered once when Cloth gave Tiso a ‘gentle’ punch to the arm and accidentally sent him through the window.

“How about both of you back out, and I’ll come to you?”

Cloth and Tiso looked at each other. Cloth nodded and with some effort, pulled herself back and out of the door-frame. Tiso, no longer supported, just fell on the ground and wheezed for breath. Cloth helpfully picked him up and set him on his feet again and dusted off his armor.

Myla giggled, bouncing forward to leap at the two of them and was caught into a three way hug. It was a happy moment of hugs and little smooches that was sorely needed after days of being apart. “I’m so glad you two are here!”

“Unfortunately, we only got a short amount of time, then we have to go back.” Cloth replied, sounding very apologetic.

“Yeah...we still got idiots to process.” Tiso took the time to give them both a nuzzle. “Duty calls and all that.”

“That’s okay, I’m just glad you’re here for now!” Myla wriggled to escape the hug, and promptly headed back inside the office. “I processed some new minerals if you’d like to take a look!”

“Of course we would!” Tiso booked it to the door.. and ended up getting wedged in again when Cloth tried to get in at the same time. This time it was worse, because Cloth didn’t put her club down first, and Myla could hear the wood creaking under the strain of it all. She rubbed the back of her head as she watched them both struggle.

She wondered if she should just have a second door put in.

---

It felt like ages since Grimm started talking, telling Quirrel of fantastical worlds both old and new. It was fascinating, hearing of so many places that were different and unique. For the most part Quirrel listened, asking a question here and there. It seemed like the Nightmare King had visited the places Quirrel had during his wanderings on the surface world, and offered some interesting insight to things he may have missed.

“It seems our time is nearly up.” Grimm folded his claws together under his chin, looking at the pill bug who sat in front of him. He had just finished telling Quirrel about a colorful world with a legend of an eternal sprout that was constantly being searched for. “You will need to wake up soon.”

“Really?” Quirrel leaned back in his chair and poked himself a couple times. “If I’m well enough now to wake up, how come I don’t feel any different?”

“It’s because your mind is protecting itself. You won’t feel pain while in a dream. I can however, change that aspect if it is a nightmare, but I have no reason to do so here.” Grimm gave him a sinister grin, exposing many needle sharp teeth, but Quirrel wasn’t afraid.

“Thanks.” Quirrel sighed, and put down his cup. As soon as it hit the table, it began to dissolve into essence, floating away in motes of white and red. In fact, it seemed like everything that wasn’t Grimm or himself was beginning to look blurry and grainy.

“I am not going to lie. You will most likely be in for a lot of pain once you awaken, but you must wake up.” Grimm looked to the side and off to the distance, watching the walls of the cozy room fade into white. “But you will live.”

“Will we ever get to chat again sometime? Despite the circumstances, I quite enjoyed our conversation. It would be nice to revisit it sometime.”

Grimm smiled softly, hiding his wicked looking teeth once again. “Of course we will.”

“Great!” Quirrel watched the last motes of color leave the dream, leaving nothing but a white, featureless void. Somehow they were still sitting, despite the lack of anything coherent around them. “Hrm...how do I wake up then?”

“Oh, that’s easy.” Grimm laughed, his voice distorting and echoing, as though retreating backwards. “You /[Quirrel]/ just need to /open[ed]/ your /[his] eyes./”

.

.

.

Suddenly, he was awake.... and he hated it.

Quirrel’s first thought was a mess of confusion. He had managed to open his eyes, a jarring jump from the dream world to reality. It was easy, but hard at the same time.

What Quirrel managed to see through his stinging eyes was nothing but a blurry mess of darkness and shapes. As soon as his brain caught up with the rest of his body, a deep sharp ache radiated from within his core, spreading all the way to the tips of his limbs. It felt like he tried to cuddle an ooma and paid the price for it. He had no idea how, but even his mandibles hurt. At least Grimm warned him, but it still sucked.

He could tell he was lying on something soft and warm at least. Wriggling his antenna (with a wince, cause how the fuck is his antenna sore too!?!) slightly gave him the usual smells of his home in the palace. His mind was still a little foggy, so when he detected three other people around him, he wasn’t quite sure who they were at first. It was silent, so he couldn’t identify anyone by voices. He was exhausted. Everything hurt. Breathing hurt. Having his eyes open hurt. It sucked and he resolved to complain about it soon enough. He had no clue what happened other than 1. he got poisoned and 2. he got sick from it.

What he needed right now, was his spouse. They probably knew what the hell happened and could fill him in on what he missed. He didn’t even know how long he was out for. It didn’t seem so long while he conversed with Grimm, but he suspected that time doesn’t really hold all that much meaning in a dream. He moved, at least, he tried to, gasping in pain as his hand squeezed something hard and slender. He nearly jumped out of his chitin when something squeezed back. A shape moved in front of his vision, a blurry mess of white that seemed to shine in the darkness.

“Quirrel?” The voice was tinged with the feeling of hope as it whispered through his head. He knew that voice, and he relaxed.

“Hello, love,” he wheezed. His throat was dry and scratchy and he coughed on his words. He closed his eyes for a moment as the blur moved and tripped his sense of vertigo. He heard a chirp in response before he was being hauled upright and held with four arms. The sudden movement flipped his stomach around and he groaned in response. “Ugh…”

“I’msorryi’msorryi’msorry.” He was being peppered with kisses all over his face as a soft whining noise emitted from a throat that was voiceless. He managed to lift up a shaking hand to rest it on the side of Ghost’s face, happy he didn’t accidentally poke them in the eyes since he couldn't see. He rubbed them as well as he could, struggling with the effort of keeping his arm up.

“It’s alright... dear…” It was difficult to talk, he had to stop and take a breath between each word. As much as he loved kisses, it was starting to overwhelm him, so he tried to soothe his spouse. “I’m fine.”

“You are not fine. I...I…” There was another wheezing sob and he was thankfully nuzzled instead of kissed. “You could have died.”

“Heh...heh...like you could...get rid of me...that easy.” He dropped his arm, no longer able to keep it up. His hand was captured in one of Ghost’s, and they rubbed it gently. “I plan to...be around...for much longer…You couldn’t...keep me away...if you tried…” He was losing his voice and he swallowed with a wince. He opened his eyes again, it was still blurry, but he could see clearer shapes. A blob of green and a blob of red was approaching, mixing together as he struggled to focus.

“Here you are, my dear.” A glass of water was placed in his free hand and encircled with a tentacle. “Sip slowly.”

“Hi mom…” He knew what his mom felt like, how she always had this sort of static energy around her, like you could get a good zap if you pissed her off. The same tentacle that used to rock him to sleep at night when he was a pip helped him drink and he gratefully swallowed down the water. It was absolute bliss. He may be king, but all the finery in the world couldn’t compare to that nice cold glass of water.

“You gave us a hell of a scare, how are you feeling?” Oh, that must have been Mato. It made sense that he would be here. The blurs of red mixed with gray and was certainly big enough to be the Nailmaster. They moved to stand closer to Ghost...at least he thinks they did. It was hard to tell for the moment.

“Hurts.” Quirrel could have lied but his mother was right there and she would have no trouble putting him in the corner for it. “All over. Hard to see.”

“I figured as much,” Monomon was still holding the glass of water for him, and another tentacle bumped against his mandibles. “Open up, I have something for the pain.”

He did just that, letting the pills go down with another few swallows of water. He imagined that he should feel hungry or something too, but he just didn’t feel like it. She must have sensed the question because she continued talking.

"Let’s wait for half an hour and see if you can handle some soup, okay?”

Quirrel nodded with a sigh. He was awake but tired again, it was rather frustrating. He closed his eyes again, letting them rest as he just laid there and breathed. He could feel the medicine begin to work, a numb tingling working down his limbs and into his core. Soon, every movement didn’t result in pain, and he managed to sit up a little. Ghost helped, sitting so that his back could rest against this chest and belly.

“What happened?” It seemed like a sensible question to ask. He was not surprised that Ghost was the one to answer.

“There was an assassination attempt and you were poisoned by the nail that cut you. The Great Knights led an investigation and arrested the ringleader and several members of the group. They are still investigating, but they are confident they caught most to all of them. You were unconscious for almost three days.”

“Three days?!” Quirrel raised his voice at that. Three whole days? As in seventy two hours?

“Yes, three days.” Monomon piped up. “If it makes you feel any better, half the kingdom has been keeping vigil outside, hoping that you would get better.”

Quirrel blinked in surprise. “Really?”

“She isn’t lying.” Mato was the next to say something, his voice moving around the room. “I nearly had to fight my way inside, there were so many people out there.”

Quirrel...didn’t know how to feel about that. On one hand, he didn’t feel like he was a person who would warrant a three day vigil, and on the other, he was touched and humbled. He had always been a bug who was fairly social and had a lot of friends, but to have that many bugs sitting around and waiting for news about him...it was astonishing. It must mean that he is doing something right.

“You two need rest,” Mato continued. “Ghost? There’s a pot of soup in the icebox, just warm it up. I’ll go out and tell the masses that things are okay so they can go home.”

“That is a good idea.” Ghost leaned their head down to nuzzle Quirrel some more. “Thank you.”

“And you, my little scholar, are going to stay in bed.” Monomon added. “Strict bed rest until further notice, got it? I will know if you get out of bed, trust me.”

“Yes mom.” Quirrel believed her.

Soon, both parents departed, and once again the room was quiet, save for a soft rumbling. Quirrel realized that Ghost was purring as they cuddled against them. “Stay with me...for a little?” He asked. Now that their parents were gone, it felt strange, like he was a small thing in a sea of uncertainty. Most likely, it’s trauma from the experience, but he didn’t think he could stand being alone for very long now. Now that he was awake, he wanted to stay awake, but he doubts that his body will let him for long.

“I would never leave you,” came the reply. “Everything is on hold for now and will be for a little while.”

“You can’t just... shut down the government...love.” Quirrel chuckled. “Even though...I think most would...enjoy the vacation.”

“I am a king, I can do what I want. And if I want everyone to fuck off so I can care for my beloved husband who survived an attack on his life, I will make it so.” There was a hint of amusement in their voice as they gave him a nuzzle.

“What about...the assassins?” He would not be surprised if they were all dead by now, but he still wanted to know.

“The knights have them. We can talk about it later. I would rather kiss you and talk about how much I love you, if that’s okay.”

Quirrel managed a laugh as he relaxed against his spouse, feeling happy and full of love. “You know what? I would...like that very much.”

[supermarvelgirl15]

Home- Chapter 3 (The Gunslinger)

Summary: Din and Jesla help a rookie bounty hunter who is in over his head. Jesla sees someone that she never thought she would ever see again.

Pairing: Eventual Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) × OC!Jesla Gavdo

Word Count: 5,620

Warnings: Violence, gun TW, near death experience

A/N: Now this is long one, whew! I hope you all enjoy it! Tags are still open!

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

××××××

    “Losing fuel,” Mando announces as the Razor Crest loses all power, the Child squealing behind them. Jesla rolls her eyes, trying some switches as Din goes to turn on the emergency power.

   “If you would've listened to me when I said we were tailed by that fighter, we wouldn't be in this mess!” Jesla calls after the ship powers back up and the engine comes on again. She had tried telling him that they should go a different route because someone was following them, but he just told her that she was being paranoid. 

   The Mandalorian mutters to himself incoherently as he sits back in his seat gruffly. The Child climbs up in Jesla's lap, picking at the bottom of her glove that was slowly unraveling. She looks down at him when he places his hand on her wrist where her tattoos were drawn on her skin. He looks back up at her, as if asking what they meant. Jesla swallows thickly, moving his hand away and pulls her glove back down over them.

   Din watches the interaction between the two, making note of the markings that she was hiding. Despite knowing she was an ex-Imperial sharpshooter that was trained on some planet named Kamino and had powers like the kid, he didn't really know that much about her. She didn't know anything about him either. Din usually worked alone, so he wasn't sure how he was suppose to start a conversation without it being work-related. He guessed Jesla wasn't much of a conversationalist as well. After all, they were both still strangers to each other, in a way. 

   “This is Mos Eisley Tower. We are tracking you. Head for bay three-five. Over.”

   The operator shakes Din out of his thoughts, clearing his throat before speaking. “Copy that. Locked in for three-five,” he replies.

   Jesla straightens up once she realizes where they were currently landing. “Is this Tatooine?” She questions, leaning over the control panel to scan the area outside the cockpit window. The Child, who had fallen asleep in her lap, stirs slightly at her movement.

   Mando nods as he settles down in the bay. “Yes... you've been here before?” He asks, turning the ship off.

   “Yeah, once... It was actually for another Mandalorian believe it or not,” Jesla laughs shortly at the memory of the bounty hunter. He had reminded her of her brothers.

   Din turns to look at her then, his eyebrows furrowed under his helmet. “You knew another Mandalorian?” He queries incredulously, tilting his head forward slightly.

   Jesla licks her lips, nodding. “Uh, yeah. But he was killed here a handful of years ago,” she answers, her eyes darting away for a brief moment. Just like everyone else she knew.

   “Should I be worried?” Din tries to joke, but as soon as it comes out of his mouth, he's not sure she would take it as one. Why he was actually concerned about that, he didn't really know.

   His worries are washed away when he hears Jesla laugh and sees her genuinely smile as she shakes her head, a few strands of hair that wasn't tied back falling in her face. He doesn't recall seeing her actually smile before, besides offering small ones to be polite. She seemed to always be wearing a metaphorical mask around people she didn't trust. In some ways, they were similar.

   “Oh, so you actually have a sense of humor? I'm surprised,” Jesla grins as she stands up with the sleeping Child in her arms. Despite not being able to see Mando's face, she knew that he was rolling his eyes.

   One by one, they both climb down the ladder to the hangar. When the Mandalorian opens the cot door, Jesla lays the Child in there, Mando then closing it to lock him inside. The duo then open the hangar door and leave the ship.

   Three pit droids pop up and start to approach, but pop down with a screech when Mando starts shooting at them. Jesla's eyes widen as she quickly grabs his wrist and forcibly lowers his blaster down. “Mando, what the hell?!”

   A woman comes rushing out of the office, yelling at them. “Hey! You damage one of my droids, you pay for it,” she shouts. 

   “Just keep them away from my ship,” Mando grumbles, shaking off Jesla's grip on him and slips his blaster back into its rightful place. Jesla shoots him a look, but he ignores her as he walks away.

   What was his problem?

   “Yeah? You think that's a good idea, do ya? Let's look at your ship,” the woman says as she knocks on the hull, making something rattle and clank inside. “Oof... Look at that. Oh, you got a lot of carbon scoring building up top. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were in a shootout. Special tool for that one. Oh ya, I'm gonna have to rotate that... You got a fuel leak?! Look at that, this is a mess! How did you even land? That's gonna set you back.” The woman walked around the entire ship, naming everything that needed to be fixed.

   As she listened to the woman name everything, Jesla knew that they didn't have enough credits to fix the whole ship. They needed to get more money somehow.

   “We've got 500 Imperial credits,” Mando tells her and judging by the look the woman just gave him, it wasn't enough.

   “That's all you got? Well,” the woman turns to the pit droids, “what do you guys think? That should at least cover the hangar.”

   “We'll get you your money,” Jesla promises, Mando nodding in agreement as he stands back beside her.

   The woman scoffs, shaking her head. “I've heard that before,” she mutters. 

   “Just remember-”

   “Ya, no droids, I heard ya. You don't have to say it twice,” the woman interrupts Din as she waves them off.

   Mando and Jesla both leave and walk through the sandy streets of Mos Eisley. They pass some Stormtrooper helmets on pikes which makes Jesla stop in her tracks. Din only makes it a few feet before he notices that he was walking alone. He looks back to search for his partner and finds her stopped in front of the trooper helmets, staring at them.

   Jesla subconsciously rubs the spot on her wrist where her tattoos were, still looking at the sight in front of her. Memories from the war enter her mind, memories she tried so hard to forget. Her time as a trooper was not a pleasant one, even though she was trained for it her whole life. Maybe that was the reason she accepted her master's offer.

   She's brought out of her thoughts when she feels a hand grip her shoulder firmly, yet somehow gently as well. Jesla looks down at the gloved hand then at its owner. 

   “You all right?” Mando asks sincerely, making eye contact with her through his visor. Jesla looks back at the pikes one last time, nodding slowly. She drops her hand from her wrist and walks away, making Din release his grip on her shoulder. 

   They end up walking into a cantina, the Mandalorian taking the lead as he walks up to the droid bartender. “Hey, droid. We're hunters. We're looking for some work.”

   “Unfortunately, the Bounty Guild no longer operates in Tatooine,” the droid informs them as it cleans a glass.

   “We're not looking for Guild work,” Jesla says, leaning on the bar. There had to be something.

   “I am afraid that does not improve your situation. At least by my calculation,” the droid apologizes.

   How were they going to pay for the repairs on the Razor Crest now?

   “Think again, tin can.”

   The Mandalorian and ex-Imperial both turn to look at a man lounging in a booth with his feet on the table. “If you're looking for work, have a seat, my friends. Name's Toro. Toro Calican,” he introduces himself. Mando and Jesla hesitate, both looking at one another. “Come on, relax,” Toro beckons them over.

   Toro takes his feet off the table as the duo walk over to sit. He then places a bounty puck on the table, a hologram popping up. “Picked up this bounty puck before I left the Mid-Rim. Fennec Shand, an assassin. Heard she's been on the run ever since the New Republic put all her employers in lockdown,” he shares.

   “I know the name,” Mando replies shortly. Jesla could already tell that he wasn't interested in this kid's proposal. She had heard of this Fennec Shand, but never met her. She knew she was a good shot though, just like herself.

   “Well, I followed this tracking fob here. Now the positional data suggests she headed out beyond the Dune Sea. Should be an easy job,” Toro shrugs, grabbing the bounty puck off the table. 

   One... Two... Three...

   “Good luck with that,” Mando mutters as he slides out of the booth with Jesla right behind him. This man was becoming too predictable.

   Calican frantically gets up, “Wait, wait, wait. I thought you guys needed work.”

   Din turns back to face him. “How long have you been with the Guild?” He questions the kid.

   “Long enough,” Toro stammers.

   “Clearly not. Fennec Shand is an elite mercenary. She made her name killing for all the top crime syndicates, including the Hutts. If you go after her, you won't make it past sunrise,” Mando ends it there and leaves. Toro looks to Jesla for some help, but she just shrugs and leaves as well.

   Quickly, Toro goes after them, losing his confident facade. “This is my first job. You can keep the money, all of it. I just need this job to get into the Guild. I can't do it alone,” he presses out.

   Jesla leans over to Mando, considering Calican's offer. “We could definitely use those credits,” she whispers to him.

   Mando sighs, but nods reluctantly in agreement. He turns back to Toro. “Meet us at hangar three-five in half an hour. Bring speeder bikes, and give me the tracking fob,” he orders, holding his hand out for the fob.

   Toro then destroys the tracking fob instead of giving it to the Mandalorian. Jesla's eyebrows furrow in confusion at his sudden action. “Don't worry. Got it all memorized,” Toro winks at Jesla which makes her roll her eyes.

   “Half an hour,” Din grumbles as he walks back in the direction of the hangar. Jesla gives Toro a once over before heading in the same direction. 

   This is going to be fun.

                                                 ∞∞∞

   Jesla and Mando enter the hangar and head inside the ship. The duo immediately see the cot door open with no Child inside. They both look at each other before rushing back outside, Jesla unholstering her blaster. 

  “HEY! Where is he?!” Mando angrily questions a pit droid, which folds up in fear instead of answering him.

   The woman comes out of her office, the Child in her arms. “Quiet! Oh,” she rocks the now crying Child, “shh, it's okay. You woke it up. Do you have any idea how long it took me to get it to sleep?”

  Jesla let's out a sigh of relief, putting the blaster back in it's holster. “Give him to me,” she orders the woman, reaching out for him.

   “Not so fast! You can't just leave a child all alone like that. You know... you've got an awful lot to learn about raising a young one,” the woman says, the Child now quiet as he looks up at her sweetly.

  “Anyway, I started the repair on the fuel leak. There you go,” she says, hitting the side of the ship. “I had a couple setbacks I wanna talk to you about. You know I didn't use any droids as requested, so it took me a lot longer than I expected. But I figured you two were good for the money since you have an extra mouth to feed.”

   The Mandalorian and Jesla both thank her before they leave the hangar. “Oh, I guess I was right. You got a job, didn't you? You know, it's costing me a lot of money to keep these droids even powered up,” the woman tells them as she follows them out with the Child still in her arms.

   Toro Calican is waiting with two speeder bikes. Jesla tilts her head as she looks at them as Mando inspects them. There were three of them, but there were only two speeders.

   “Sorry, I could only get two of 'em. Looks like you'll have to ride with someone,” Toro informs her, his eyes looking her up and down. If he were to do that to her a few years ago, Jesla would've killed him where he stood. 

   Mando watches her as he hops on the bike, not missing the once over Toro had given her. Jesla just gives Toro a tight lipped smile as she hops on the speeder with Din, wrapping her arms around his waist. Toro stands there stunned for a couple seconds before hopping on his bike.  

   “If he checks me out like that again, I will kill him,” she whispers as she leans in close to him. Din chuckles shortly before speeding off into the desert with Calican right behind them. They race over the sand and dunes, Jesla pulling her hood down over her face to keep the sand from getting into her eyes.

   They continue to ride until the Mandalorian signs to Toro to hold. Both speeders simultaneously come to a halt. 

   “What's going on?” Toro asks as he slides his goggles off. 

   Din points ahead of them as he gets off the speeder, Jesla also hopping off to stretch out her limbs. “Look. Up ahead,” he tells him. Calican gets off his bike and uses his binoculars, seeing two banthas with their riders beside them.

  “Tusken Raiders. I heard the locals talking about this filth,” Toro says as he lowers his binoculars.

  “Tuskens think they are the locals. Everyone else is just trespassing,” Mando discloses.

  Toro scoffs as he rolls his eyes. “Well, whatever they call themselves, they best keep their distance,” he swaggers.

   Jesla watches as two Tuskens walk up behind him, a smirk forming on her lips. “Yeah? Why don't you tell them yourself?”

   Calican turns around to see the two Tusken Raiders standing behind him. He goes to reach for his blaster, but the Mandalorian quickly intercepts. “Relax.”

   Mando walks up to the Tuskens, using sign language to communicate with them. Jesla watches in amazement as Mando continues to negotiate with the Tuskens. Apparently, Mando knew a lot of languages. The man never ceased to amaze her.

   “What's going on?” Toro queries as he watches the interaction as well. 

   “We need passage across their land. Let me see the binocs,” Mando answers, holding out an outstretched hand. Toro hands them over to Din who in turn hands it over to the Tuskens. 

   Calican's mouth falls open in surprise as the Mandalorian remounts his bike. “Those were brand new,” he grumbles. 

   Jesla smirks as she turns to follow Mando. “Yeah. They were,” she mocks, hopping on the back of Mando's speeder. They take off, Toro eventually following them.

   They don't get too far when Mando suddenly stops again and gets off the bike, Jesla following his lead. “Get down,” Mando orders Toro, who gets off his speeder as well and follows the duo to take cover behind a dune ridge. Below them was a dewback with its rider still attached, getting dragged behind it. 

   “Is that her? Is that the target?” Calican questions, squinting his eyes.

   “I don't know. We'll go,” Din answers, nodding towards Jesla. “You cover us. Stay down,” he adds as both him and Jesla draw out their blasters.

   Din and Jesla rush towards the beast, approaching more carefully as they get closer. Jesla turns over the body being dragged, revealing a masked man. It wasn't her.

   “Is it her? Is she dead?” Toro calls down to them from his position on the ridge.

   Jesla shakes her head as she looks over in his direction. “It's another bounty hunter!”

   The Mandalorian continues to look through the hunter's things as Jesla scans their surroundings. Mando finds a beeping tracking fob on the body and jumps up suddenly, pulling Jesla in front of him.

   “Get down!”

   Just then a shot rings out, hitting Mando right on the pauldron. The impact causes him to fall on top of Jesla as the dewback runs off. Jesla quickly pushes him off of her and helps him up. They make another break to the dune ridge, Din making sure he was right behind Jesla to block any shots. He pushes Jesla over the ridge just as another shot hits him, throwing him over the top of the ridge as well.

   “What happened?” Toro asks, making sure he's out of the sniper's line of sight.

   “Sniper bolt. Only an MK-modified rifle could make that shot,” Jesla responds, gesturing to to her own MK swung over her shoulder. She turns back to Mando, checking him over. “Are you all right?”

   Mando nods as he sits up. “Yeah. Hit me in the beskar. And at that range, beskar held up,” he says, checking the areas where the shots hit him.

   “So what do we do? Can't you just snipe her with your rifle?” Toro asks Jesla, throwing his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of where the shots came from.

   Jesla rolls her eyes as she shakes her head. It was times like these that made her miss her trooper helmet so no one could see her expressions. “No, she has the high ground. By the time I set up my rifle, I'd be dead. She's going to wait for us to make the first move,” she explains to him.

   “So, we're gonna wait until dark. I'm gonna rest. You take the first watch. Stay low,” Mando cuts in, propping himself against the speeder.

   Watching Mando settle himself against the bike, Jesla realizes that resting didn't sound so bad. She nods at Toro before going to prop herself against the other speeder, pulling her hood down just over her eyes. It didn't take long for her to fall asleep.

   Once night falls, Jesla is woken up by Toro murmuring to himself and playing gunslinger in front of the supposedly sleeping Mandalorian, practically making an ass out of himself.

   “You done?”

   Din's voice startles Toro, making him fumble to put his blaster away as he stumbles over his words. Jesla laughs quietly as she pushes herself up, stretching out her limbs. Mando stands up as well, reaching for something on his belt.

   “Get on your bike. Ride as fast as you can. Towards those rocks,” Mando informs Calican, pointing to the area in front of them.    

   “That's your plan? She'll snipe us right off the bikes,” Toro points out, throwing his hands up in the air. Jesla hated to admit it, but the kid was right. She didn't have to say that out loud though.

   The Mandalorian tosses a charge over to Toro. “It's a flash charge. We alternate shots. It'll blind any scope temporarily. Combine that with our speed and we got a chance.”

   And with that, the three of them hop on the speeders. Jesla holds onto Mando tightly as they speed across the open valley. Mando releases the first charge, making the sniper's shot go wide. Toro then fires his flash charge, making Fennec Shand miss again. He goes to fire another one, but it misfires, giving Shand a chance at a good shot. She takes it and shoots out the bike out from under Din and Jesla. 

   Jesla groans from the impact just as Mando fires another charge so Calican could get across. Shand then hits Mando square in the breastplate, knocking him back. Jesla's heartbeat picks up as realizes that she has no cover or beskar to protect her. She hears a groan come from Mando as he slowly pushes himself up. He looks over at Jesla then towards where Toro and Fennec were fighting. Jesla let's out breath she didn't know she was holding when she sees that the sniper was too occupied to pay attention to them. 

   Together, Mando and Jesla sneak up to where Toro was “distracting” Fennec. They come up just as Shand gives Toro a thorough thrashing. Fennec turns to them, both Jesla and Din pointing their blaster at her. “Nice distraction.”

   Fennec let's Calican go, Toro groaning as he gets up. Mando tosses some cuffs to Shand. “Cuff yourself,” he turns to Toro, “why don't you go and find your blaster.”

   “A Mandalorian. It's been a long time since I've seen one of your kind. Ever been to Nevarro? I hear things didn't go so well there but... it looks like you got off easy,” Fennec says to Mando as she looks him up and down. 

   Toro finds his blaster and holsters it. “You don't have to worry about getting to Nevarro or anywhere else once we turn you in. You know I really should thank you. You're my ticket into the Guild,” he boasts, a prideful smirk on his face.

   “You're welcome,” she replies sarcastically. Fennec then turns to Jesla, giving her a once over as well. “You seem... familiar. Have we met?” She asks her, eyes squinting slightly. 

   “No,” Jesla answers shortly, roughly grabbing her arm. The group make their way down to where the single speeder bike is parked. 

   Will just one thing work out for them?

   “Uh oh... it looks like one of us has to walk,” Fennec quips, smirking.

   Jesla roughly pushes Fennec down to sit. “Or we could drag you,” she retorts. 

   Mando, Toro, and Jesla walk a short distance away from her. “All right... So, what's the plan?” Calican questions, rubbing his hands together. 

   “I need you to go and find that dewback we saw,” Din tells him.

   “And leave you two here? With my bounty and my ride? Yeah... I don't think so, guys,” Toro shakes his head as he crosses his arms across his chest. 

   Din sighs as he turns to face the valley, scanning with his HUD until he detects a heat reading a couple ridges over. “Okay. I'll do it. Watch her. And don't let her get near the bike. She's no good to us dead. Jesla will stay with you to make sure of it,” he says as he turns back to face them, tilting his helmet in Jesla's direction. It was the first time in years since Jesla heard her name come from someone else's mouth. It almost sounded foreign to her.

   With one last nod, Mando walks away towards the direction of the dewback. Both Toro and Jesla watch him for a few moments before returning to the speeder bike and Shand.

                                                ∞∞∞

   The group had waited throughout the night, waiting for the return of the Mandalorian. It was now morning and there was still no sign of Mando. Jesla worries her bottom lip as her eyes scan the sandy valley. She wasn't sure what was taking him so long.

   “Uh... It's been a while. Oh look, the suns are coming up,” Fennec announces as she stretches. 

   “Quiet,” Jesla quickly orders, her eyes never leaving the valley. 

   Fennec glares at Jesla before turning her attention to Toro. “Look, there's still time to make my rendezvous in Mos Espa. Take me to it, and I can pay you double the price on my head,” she tells him.

   “I don't care about the money,” Toro mutters, not looking at her.

   “Oh. So they keep all the money for themselves,” Shand nods towards Jesla, seemingly understanding the situation.

   “Only because I let them,” Toro states, glancing over his shoulder at her.

   Shand shakes her head as she laughs. “Doesn't seem that way. I mean, it seems like they're calling all the shots.”

   Toro turns to face her then, making Jesla turn to face them. “Shows what you know. I hired them. This is my job. Bringing you in will make me a full member of the Bounty Hunters' Guild,” he shares, taking a couple steps towards her. Jesla pushes herself off the ground, ready to intervene if neccessary. 

   Fennec rolls her eyes. “You already have something that the Guild values far more than me. You just don't see it,” she scoffs.

   “Okay, that's enough talking,” Jesla orders as she walks closer to them.

   The assassin smirks at Toro's questioning look. “The Mandalorian. His armor alone's worth more than my bounty,” she continues, ignoring Jesla. 

   Calican shrugs as he shakes his head. “I already told you I don't care about the money,” he reminds her. 

   “Then think what it would do for your reputation. A Mandalorian shot up the Guild with the help of some sniper on Nevarro. Took some high value target and went rogue,” Shand tries to convince him.

    “That Mandalorian?”

   Shand nods, her smirk still plastered on her face. “Like I said, you don't see many. You bring the Guild that traitor and they'll welcome you with open arms. Your name will be legendary.”

   Jesla starts to walk towards Fennec. “I said that's enough,” Jesla hisses, grabbing her roughly. She goes to pull her away, but is stopped by a sudden pain in her left side. Looking up, she sees Toro pointing his blaster at her. It's then when she realizes that she was shot, letting go of Fennec as she stumbles backwards and falls down.

   How did she let this happen? Why hadn't her instincts kicked in? The pain shoots through her body as she turns her head to face Toro and Shand. They're still talking, but Jesla can't focus enough to actually hear them. She watches as Toro shoots Fennec point blank, her body dropping to the ground as well.

   As Toro speeds off on the bike, Jesla pushes herself to stand back up, groaning in pain as she does so. She wasn't sure what she was doing, but she slowly started after Toro on foot. It was impossible to catch up to him, she knew that, but her anger was the only thing keeping her alive and she needed to go after him.

   She had been walking for a while when she finally collapses, the pain taking over her. Jesla grits her teeth as she clutches her wound. This wasn't supposed to be how she died. Out of all the ways she thought she would go out, this was not one of them. Maker, why did this have to happen to her? 

   Her eyelids started to feel heavy, the grip on her wound loosening. There was no way that she was going to make it. The odds were impossible. She knew that this was it as she finally allowed herself to close her eyes.

   “Don't tell me this is how you're going to die.”

   The new voice causes Jesla to barely open her eyes, her vision spotty. She slowly turns her head, squinting at the man before her. 

   “After everything, an inexperienced kid is what kills you? I thought I trained you better than that,” the man says, shaking his head as he looks down at her. 

   Jesla still couldn't make out who was talking to her. However, there was something familiar about his presence. “Who...” she tries to ask.

   The man crouches down beside her. “Come on, my apprentice. Get up,” he orders her.

   No. How was this possible? Jesla's eyes finally focus on the man. It was him.

   “M-master?”

   Anakin Skywalker smiles down at her as he stands back up. “Get up, Jesla,” he tells her again. And with that, he disappears as if he was never there to begin with. 

   Those three words continue to repeat inside Jesla's head as she turns herself over on the sandy ground. She pushes herself off the ground with an agonizing yell. Anakin was right. A kid wasn't about to be the one that killed her. 

                                             ∞∞∞

   Din approaches Mos Eisley that night on the dewback. He had just came back from where he had left Calican, Shand, and Jesla with the speeder. Once he had gotten there, he found Fennec left for dead with no sign of Jesla or Toro. Din wasn't sure what had occurred, but he knew it wasn't good.

   He spots the speeder parked outside the hangar as he ties up the dewback. Drawing out his blaster, he silently enters the hangar. A pit droid rushes past him into the office where it and two other droids fold up in fear. 

   “Took you long enough, Mando,” he hears Calican's voice say. Toro then appears on the Razor Crest's ramp with the Child on his arm and the mechanic at gunpoint. “Looks like I'm calling the shots now, huh, partner? Drop your blaster and raise ’em.”

   Din does as he's told, his eyes scanning around him from under his helmet. Jesla wasn't here. So where was she?

   “You're a Guild traitor, Mando. And I'm willing to bet that this here is the target you helped escape,” Toro says, referring to the Child in his arms. 

    “Where's Jesla?” Din questions, watching him carefully. He knew he could get out of this, but he couldn't find out where Jesla was if Calican was dead.

   Toro smirks as he shrugs. “Oh, you mean your little girlfriend? I killed her. She wasn't really my type,” he answers smugly. Din closes his eyes briefly. It was just another casualty in his life.

   “You're not exactly mine either.”

   Din turns to look behind him to see a pissed off Jesla holding her left side where she was apparently shot. Toro's eyes widen as he takes a couple steps back. “Wha... How? I killed you,” he says quietly as he starts to panic.

   Jesla's eyes harden as she stares at him. “It takes a lot to kill me, kid,” she snarls, raising her hand up towards him. Toro lifts up in the air, dropping the Child and his blaster as he starts to choke. The mechanic scrambles to get the Child and goes back to stand with the Mandalorian, both of them watching the scene before them. Jesla tightens her fist and kills Toro, his body falling limply to the ground. 

   She then stumbles backwards, Din quickly going to go steady her. Jesla clenches her teeth as the pain surges through her. Mando picks her up bridal style and carries her inside the Razor Crest, setting her down in the hangar. 

   “I told you I would kill him,” Jesla jokes, laughing but quickly regretting it as she squeezes her eyes shut. 

   Mando lifts up her shirt, examining her wound. “I'm gonna go get the kid, then I'm going to patch you up, okay?” He tells her, standing back up. Jesla nods and he heads out down the ramp, returning a couple minutes later with the Child. He sets him down and rushes up to the cockpit to get them the hell off Tatooine.

   The Child watches Jesla curiously, tilting his head. Jesla rests her head against the wall, trying to control her breathing. She doesn't notice the Child walk up to her, his eyes fixated on her wound. He raises his hand and closes his eyes. 

   He gets stopped by the Mandalorian picking him up and setting him to the side. “Not now, kid,” Din mumbles, looking through his med-pack for a bacta patch. He looks up to see Jesla's head lull to the side, her eyes closed.

   “Hey! You have to stay awake until I get you situated,” Din orders her, making Jesla snap her head up at the sternness of his voice. She slowly nods, trying her best to keep her eyes open. 

   Din watches her struggle to stay awake as he finally finds a bacta patch. He had to keep her awake if she was going to live through this. His eyes drift down to her tattoos on her wrist that were slightly uncovered by her glove. They were three different symbols; a line, a knot, and a cross.

   “What do those mean?” He asks her, gesturing to her wrist. 

   Jesla lifts her wrist up to her face, squinting at them. She swallows hard before answering. “They're for my brothers... Blank, Knot, and Cross,” she informs him, dropping her hand back in her lap. 

   Mando nods as he gently places the patch on her wound, making her hiss slightly. “You have brothers?” He had to keep her talking for a little longer. 

   “Not by blood, no. They were the clones in my squad. We were all close to each other... They were all killed on Burnin Konn during Operation Cinder,” Jesla shares, licking her chapped lips. Din looks up from his work on the patch to her, Jesla looking away from him.

   After a few seconds, he looks back to the bacta patch, making sure it was placed correctly. “I'm sorry... The bacta patch should be working now, so you can rest. I'll be in the cockpit if you need me,” he tells her as he picks up the Child and heads to the ladder.

   “What about you?” Jesla calls, making him stop and turn back to face her. “Why do you hate droids? I mean, I know they're annoying and all, but... You just seem to hate them.”

   Din turns back to the ladder, going up a step, but stops again. He turns to look at her again from over his shoulder. “They killed my parents,” he says before continuing up the ladder and into the cockpit.

   Jesla looks after him, sighing as she rests her head back against the wall. At least something good came out of all this.     

   She had finally gained the Mandalorian's trust.

××××××

@living-that-best-life

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I Have To Find The Will To Carry On

Fandom: The Clone Wars (2008) | SPOILERS FROM SEASON 7

Characters: ARC-0408 | Echo, CT-7567 | Rex, Clone Trooper Hunter, ARC-5555 | Fives (mentioned)

Tags: hurt/comfort, grief, PTSD, survivor’s guilt, echo needs a hug

Warnings:  dehumanization, grieving, suicide ideation, depression/, gore m/, torture m/, medical torture m/, explosions m/, death m/

Set shortly after the ending of the last Bad Bath Arc episode, with a flashback set shortly before said ending. Be mindful of the tags. There ARE spoilers of the new season in this fic.

-

“You, uh. You just tell us if you need anything else, okay, Echo?”

Echo looked around one more time before sitting down in his bunk with a sigh.

“I don’t think I will, Hunter. This is...” he ran his flesh hand over the soft, clean sheets “This is much more than I’ve had in a long time.”

Hunter shifted awkwardly, scratching the back of his head, and Echo offered him a small smile.

“Please don’t look at me like that. The worst thing you can do is treat me like I’m some fragile thing. It’ll take me some time to adjust, of course. But I can manage just fine.”

Hunter squared his shoulders, setting his jaw.

“Right. I would ask the same, if I was in your place.” and he offered him a salute “I welcome you again to Clone Force 99, corporal. It’s great to have you on board.”

“Glad to be here, sir.”

And with a small nod, Hunter left, closing the door behind him.

Echo looked around the small quarters. The first day in the barracks always feels weird, and Echo felt the small pang of anxiety that dragged him back in time, to his first day at the 501st’s barracks.

Their first day.

Fives had taken the upper bed and would hang upside-down every ten minutes or so to interrupt Echo’s reading of the reg manuals just to show off his recently painted helmet with a rishi eel drawn in blue over the white plastoid. They would giggle quietly to themselves, looking at their new armors and even when they bickered Echo knew he couldn’t possibly have asked for a better person to have by his side through the war, and he alwaysbelieved that Fives felt the same way about him.

-

When Echo decided to leave with the Bad Batch, Rex had asked him if he could spare him a minute before leaving, and so they had walked to the Captain’s barracks. Rex let the doors slide shut behind him, turning on a single dim yellow light that kept his face partially shadowed as the Captain turned to face him.

Echo didn’t quite know what to say. All the time they’ve spent apart… Everything he had missed… He wondered if Rex meant to fill him in on all of it before sending him away with the Bad Batch.

But Rex didn’t speak. Echo could notice the tension in his jaw, the way his hands were curled into fists, how he seemed to be swallowing down once or twice, eyes staring right into Echoe’s.

The silence was deafening. Echo took a small breath and opened his mouth.

“I-”

He fell silent again, wetting his lips for a second to then purse them tightly. He could feel a shiver creeping up his spine. He knew why he was there. Rex also knew. Still he had to ask.

He had to, had to, had to ask, had to know, had to-

“Where is Fives, sir?”

The sharp, shaky intake of air from Rex should have been enough of an answer. Rex shifted his gaze away from Echo, his entire face becoming twisted with something- something Echo had never seemed in his captain face before. It looked like pain for a moment soon it turned into anger, sheer unrestrained anger that shifted into pain as the captain bared his teeth and lowered his eyes.

The low light wasn’t low enough to keep the tears brimming in the captain’s eyes from glisten some, before he blinked them away. Rex lifted his gaze to Echo, wet trail drawn over his cheek.

“I’m so sorry.”

The period Echo had spent in cryostasis had been so cold. The invasive, forced surgeries performed by the separatists’ medical droids under General Grievous’ supervision had been so painful. For a moment throughout the process in whish Echo had been turned into something more machine than human, he had thought he had lost his humanity. His ability to feel anything other than the numb state of sedation and cold.

He had never hated to be wrong so much as he did now.

The pain seemed to cut through the circuits welded on his chest and into the soft, weaker flesh beneath.

“No.” he heard his own mouth say while his mind felt distant, detached from his body that wasn’t his anymore, hadn’t been since the explosion “No, no, it- It can’t be.”

Echo looked back and forth, brain trying to understand what Rex was saying. No. That was impossible. Fives was… Was the best of them. He couldn’t- he wouldn’t-

“No, no, no, it can’t be, it can’t be!” he speaks louder, like he can convince Rex to change what he had just said “No! He would wait for me! He wouldn’t just- He can’t have just-“

Echo reached forward, grabbing Rex’s chest plate and yanking him closer despite his weakened joints.

“Rex, it can’t be, Rex-“ a sob cut off his words, and Echo felt his eyes hot with tears that blurred his sight like the ice in the cyostasis chamber would and he almost felt like he was back in the cursed thing, trapped, breathless, freezing from the inside out “Rex, please, I’m begging you…!”

Rex wrapped his arms over Echoe’s, pulling his brother into a hug and Echo just slumped against him, shaking his head over and over. It was like the last shred of sanity he had been clinging on to – his brothers, his family, his home, his only sense of normalcy in this chaotic, wretched universe – had been torn from him.

“He died as a soldier, Echo.” Rex said, voice half-choked

Back in the Citadel, the impact of the blast aimed at Echo had knocked him back into the shuttle with such violence that his helmet slipped out of his head; his body had hit the back wall so hard all the air left his lungs as the explosion made everything turn into a spiral of scorching heat, and roaring fire. The concussion had been enough to make him barely feel the charred stumps of his right arm and left leg or the weight of the durasteel cargo crate that had crushed his right leg. The last couple of breaths he had taken before losing consciousness ached, both because of the smoke-filled air and his two broken ribs. Fainting had been almost a blessing.

Not much later the droids had forcibly amputated what was left of his three limbs after the explosion with no anesthesia, and Echo had trashed against the binds that kept him secured over a table, screamed himself hoarse, lost control of his bladder, begged for death over a thousand times. He then had wires and tubes connected to his spine, heart and lungs before the ice engulfed him and his mind was ravished, invaded, and every ounce of resistance was met with punishing agony

All that pain, all that torture, and cruelty and still, still-

This was the most painful moment of his life.

“Why?!” he sobbed, feeling Rex’s cheek wet with tears against his jaw “He had no right… He couldn’t leave me..!”

Echo wondered for a moment if he was upset at Fives for dying or if he was just jealous of him. The entire time he was away, his only wish had been that the separatists had let him die. And now he would have to live without his dearest brother.

“Isn’t fair… We should’ve gone together… Side by side, I would’ve… Would’ve been glad to march away with him…”

Rex ran a gloved hand clumsily over the back of Echo’s hair. It reminded him of the way older cadets would soothe their younger brothers when they would confess to be afraid to go to battle.

“I know you would. I know, Echo.” Rex swallowed down, not letting go of Echo “He loved you so much, brother. Never was the same after he lost you. Kept searching for meaning in all of this, kept trying to make sense of it all. Made sure to ensure all regs were being kept like he… Like he was trying to bring some of you with him wherever he’d go.”

Echo sobbed harder at that, clutching Rex like a lifeline. His legs whirred, weakened by the overwhelming feelings in his brain, and Rex kept him standing still. He would always carry his men whenever they’d need him.

“We all missed and mourned you at the base, Echo. We felt your loss, but the scar it left on Fives never healed. He fought and bled and struggled to protect everyone, you knew him. And this wish to protect us ended up costing his life.” Rex paused for a moment “It was all my fault. I’m so sorry.”

Echo pulled back some, trying his best to keep his legs working still, despite how much he wanted to just sink to his knees and rip the circuits off his chest to make sure his heart would finally cease to beat for good.

“You always said that, captain.” Echo sniffled, rubbing his eyes “I’m sure you blamed yourself over what happened to me, too. It wasn’t your fault. None of it is.

Rex raised his eyes to the ceiling, clearly trying to hide his tears as he drew a long breath and let it out sharply to then look back at Echo. His eyes were bloodshot and tired, so tired. Echo knew he wasn’t looking good at all after everything the separatists had done to him, but the captain seemed to have aged so much since the last time he’d seen him.

Was it their fate, all of them clones? To wither away, to be tortured and mutilated, to die in pain? Who could say the ones of them that survived were the lucky ones?

Rex opened one of the pouches on his belt, retrieving a small comm device from it and offering it up to Echo.

“Here. I’ll reach you through it soon.”

Echo looked at the thing with curiosity before placing it in his own pouch.

“That’s… nonstandard.”

“That’s because it won’t be used for standard communication. I need an outside line to you. Its signal is scrambled, and the communications through it must be kept short to avoid us being heard, understood?”

Echo gave Rex a tiny smile.

“Ah, yes. Breaking the rules. Now it feels like home. Fives would-“

Echo stopped himself. He couldn’t say his name. Not yet. Rex swallowed down, reaching for the same pouch again.

“Oh, and this is for you.” he held his hand up closed in a fist “Fives used to keep it on him always, but he left… his equipment behind before his last mission. I managed to retrieve it and kept it with me, and when I thought that we might finally meet again, I brought it with me so that you could have it.”

The captain opened his fingers, and in his palm there was a small piece of durasteel. Echo took it with his flesh hand, holding it close to inspect it. It was slightly blackened, and the shape of it made it look like it had been cracked off from a larger piece rather than crafted to be of that exact size, although it did look like someone had smoothened the edges of it some to make them blunt.

“What is it?”

Rex gave him a bittersweet smile.

“No one knew. He only told me what it was right before we… lost you. This is a piece of the Rishi Moon outpost, after Hevy blew it up. I figure it must’ve been a part of one of the reinforced windows.”

Echo looked back at the memento in awe, sight going blurry with tears again.

“Rishi Moon… it feels like forever ago.”

“Yeah…”

The two of them shared a moment of silence, and as Echo stared at the piece of durasteel, he thought of Fives. Of his funny quips, his chaotically improvised plans, of his laugh and his particular way to annoy Echo as a display his affection. And he knew Rex did the same.

Remembering a fallen warrior was the way to keep him marching beyond. If it was up to Echo, he would make sure that the memory of Fives would never fade away.

-

Echo laid down on his bunk, reaching for the crook of his neck and feeling the small silver chain to then tug gently at it until he managed to pull the small durasteel pendant from under his black shirt and over his chest – where it clanged softly against the plate over his sternum.

He shifted on the bed, still unused to the weight and lack of mobility of his prosthetic legs, thinking of the comm that Rex had given him, hidden under a few bundled wires of a compartment in his. Skywalker had made him a new prosthetic arm that lighter and more efficient, with actual jointed fingers and sensors over the digits and palm. What was it that Rex wanted to talk about, hidden even from their superiors?

Echo ran his fingers over the piece of durasteel hanging from his necklace.

“What am I gonna do without you, brother?”

The haunting silence that followed never answered his question.

[galahadwilder]

$21 to buggachat! If you felt like adding something to Sin Ship or continuing Sweethearts a little bit (maybe Adrien and Marinette get back to find out their ice cream has melted to Andre gives all three of them a shared cone to make up for it?), that would delight me to no end.

Hesitate

A sequel to Sweethearts, and part 2 of “Kagami Has Two Hands.” Like that fic, this one was written to help raise money for @buggachat’s laptop repairs.

Sponsored by @art-deco-shrimp (the ask above is from their main account).

*

She’s only been dating Adrien for two weeks now, and already she’s gained a newfound respect for Alya for not going berserk and throwing him and Marinette into a closet together and slamming their faces together until they admit their feelings. Two weeks of this bullshit is driving her insane. She keeps dropping hints, bringing up the confusion of the ice cream flavors, sending him articles about polyamory, commenting on Marinette’s beauty, and he simply agrees that Marinette is indeed gorgeous, that poly relationships are cool, that the ice cream is a mystery—and then refuses to think any further. Marinette, meanwhile, continues to stubbornly insist that her feelings for Couffaine are romantic when even Kagami, who is notoriously bad at reading social signals, can tell that Mari is just relieved at finally having someone who lets her relax.

She swears, if she hears Adrien call Marinette “just a friend” one more time, she’s going to leap on a butterfly and light the school on fire.

They’re having another double date—neither Adrien nor Marinette seems to have figured out why she keeps insisting on those, though to his credit Luka seems to be growing suspicious, based on the looks he keeps giving her—and Marinette and Adrien are absolutely crushing the high score at the arcade’s Dance Dance Revolution machine. Their synchronization is, quite frankly, insane: they’re matching perfectly step for step, every footfall landing at just the right moment, to the point where they’ve begun to gather a crowd. As Marinette gains confidence, they’re even starting to show off a little, swapping pads back and forth mid-song without missing a single beat. Kagami is mesmerized.

Marinette as she laughs and Adrien lifts her, swinging her onto his pad. It’s a stunning display of trust and athleticism, and Kagami’s heart starts beating faster at the sight—and then, next to her, Luka reminds her that he’s there as he sighs in lovesick delight. “She’s incredible,” he murmurs, staring at Marinette.

Instantly, Kagami’s shoulders shoot up to her ears and her spine practically folds in on itself as she reaches for a sword she’s not even wearing. She grinds her teeth. “Yes,” she says, letting her hand drop to her side and forcibly relaxing her muscles. “She is.”

The worst part of this is that, much as she wants to, she can’t hate Luka Couffaine. He’s a good person, and he seems to genuinely have feelings for Marinette. More than that, he’s genuinely good for her. But Kagami has seen the way Mari looks at Adrien, and the way Mari looks at her, and… well, Marinette doesn’t feel the way about Luka that he does about her.

If circumstances were different, Couffaine would be exactly the kind of person Marinette needs as a friend, especially given how rough her life has been for the last few weeks. But they’re not. And right now Luka Couffaine is an obstacle.

The game finishes, and Marinette cheers with delight at the perfect score. Adrien, Kagami, and Luka are all staring at her.

Kagami is the only one who notices how the other two look at Marinette.

*

Kagami doesn’t usually spend lunch in the cafeteria—her mother sends a car for her every day, but she’s managed to convince her that she’s working on a group project (another of Marinette’s generic “sneak away” suggestions). Waiting in line is a bit uncomfortable, and the only thing on the menu that doesn’t fill her with revulsion at the thought of a horrible texture in her mouth is the soup, but it’s worth it when it takes her only a few moments to find her target.

“Césaire!” she hisses, sliding in next to her and carefully lowering her soup to the table. “I need to speak with you.” She glances around, lowering her voice. “Privately.”

Alya looks up from her sandwich, and Kagami doesn��t miss the momentary distaste that flits across her face. “Tsurugi,” she says, her voice carefully controlled as she waves away a curious Nino. “What do you want?”

Kagami swallows. “Marinette tells me you have been… assisting her with her love life.”

“I was,” Alya snarls, keeping her eyes locked on Kagami as she places her sandwich back on her tray. “Why? Do you have a problem with that?”

Kagami shakes her head. This is going downhill rapidly—there’s a reason she rarely interacts with Césaire. “Actually,” she says, trying to keep her voice from trembling, “I could use your help.”

Alya blinks. “Help? With what?” she says. “You already have Adrien, what do you want my help for?”

“Adrien…” Kagami swallows. She looks down at her bowl, stirring her soup uncomfortably. This is proving to be much more difficult than she expected—she’s having trouble finding the right words. “He is in love with Marinette.”

Alya glares at her, then rolls her eyes. “Tough shit,” she says. “You knew that going in.” She turns back to the table, producing her phone and beginning to scroll through a website Kagami doesn’t quite recognize. “You made this bed,” she says. “Not my fault you’re not ready to lie in—”

“You do not understand!” Kagami snaps, sloshing soup out of the bowl and onto the table. She berates herself for a moment for letting her temper get the best of her again, focusing on her breathing to calm down. She’s never quite understood Alya’s dislike of her, but given how she’s reacting now… well, it’s starting to make a certain amount of sense. “I am not… jealous,” she grinds out. “I want to help.”

Alya raises an eyebrow without looking up from her phone. “What, you’re gonna make him forget all about her?” she says. “I’m not helping you plan that.”

Kagami clenches a fist, breathes in, unclenches. Then she twists her head, glancing around the cafeteria, making sure nobody is looking before leaning in. “I have feelings for her as well,” she whispers.

Alya’s head snaps up. “What,” she hisses, her eyelid twitching.

Kagami immediately finds herself doing something she has rarely done, even in the face of Akuma—she starts retreating. She folds into herself, ashamed of her own weakness but unable to stop herself from withering under Alya’s glare.

Alya reaches forward, snatches Kagami’s tie. “If you’re planning on cheating on him—”

Kagami gasps. “Absolutely not!” she hisses, slapping Alya’s hand away.

Alya narrows her eyes. “Explain,” she says.

Kagami compulsively smooths out her tie. “Adrien and Marinette are in love with each other,” she says. “And I am… interested… in both of them.”

Alya blinks, and then the corner of her mouth twitches upwards. “You’re angling for an as well as,” she says, her voice suddenly much lighter and more playful, “not an instead of.”

Kagami blinks. “I’m not sure I understand,” she says. That sounds right, but… maybe not? She can’t be sure.

Alya rolls her eyes, but this time it’s fond instead of cruel. “You want to date both of them,” she says, “and for both of them to date each other.”

“Yes!” Kagami cries. Alya finally gets it!

Then her entire body locks up as she realizes that her voice has carried across the entire cafeteria, and now everyone is looking at her.

“Hey,” Alya says, her voice soft. “Look at me. Don’t look at them. Look at me.”

Kagami does, sees the kindness in Césaire’s eyes, and feels her heartbeat begin to slow.

Alya smiles. “Mari does the same thing,” she says, standing up and snatching her sandwich from her tray. “Come on. Let’s go somewhere more private.”

*

“Ughhh,” Alya groans after Kagami finishes explaining, slamming her face into her desk. “They’re getting worse.”

Kagami’s lips twist into a wry grin as she slurps the last of her soup straight out of the bowl. “I am glad you appreciate my predicament,” she says, carefully placing the bowl on top of the pile of paper towels Alya provided so as not to muck up Mari’s desk.

“Right, okay,” Alya says, placing her glasses back on her face. “So you need them to realize they like each other, and that you want them to… what, share you?”

Kagami nods, sweeping some droplets from the desk. “Approximately,” she says.

Alya nods. “Okay,” she says. “I’m going to give you the same advice you gave Marinette at the ice rink. Don’t hesitate.”

Kagami looks at her with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t understand,” she says. “I’m… not?”

Alya tosses her hair. “You kind of are,” she says. “It’s the same problem Marinette has—she’s scared, so she goes indirect and it gets misinterpreted.” She rubs her chin, bracing her elbow against the desk. “When you started dating Adrien, did you wait for him to make the first move?”

“Of course not,” Kagami says, then—“Oh. Oh I see.” Trying to get the two of them to figure it out on their own…

Alya grabs her shoulder. “You have to be direct with those two,” she says, smiling. “Otherwise they’ll never get it.”

Kagami smiles back, and this one feels a little more comfortable than her previous attempts. “I doubt they would understand it if I dragged Adrien to Marinette’s house while naked and covered in cheese,” she says.

Alya snorts, covering her mouth. “Marinette was right!” she says. “You are funny.”

*

“Adrien,” Kagami says as fencing practice begins winding down. “Can I speak to you once we’re finished with the showers?”

“Yeah?” he says, casually ripping his helmet from his head, releasing the tumbling golden curls. “Everything okay?”

Kagami bites her lip, which she’s glad is hidden behind the mask. “Yes,” she croaks. “Fine.” Marinette is one hundred percent correct—the boy is unfairly attractive, and she swears on Longg the kindness in his eyes makes her weak.

He turns, walking towards the shower, and she feels her knees wobble a bit at the sight of his shoulder blades. Jean snickers, jabbing her with his elbow, and she responds by punching him in the shoulder.

*

“What’s up?” Adrien says, pulling on his shirt.

Kagami braces her elbows between her knees, closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath. Be direct. Don’t hesitate. “You’re in love with Marinette.”

Adrien freezes, one empty sleeve still hanging off his shoulder. “Gami?” he says, weakly.

She doesn’t really have a plan for how this conversation is going to go, so she’s not quite sure what to do next. She’s made the first move. Let him take the next.

“I—I don’t know why everyone… keeps saying that,” he says, pulling his arm through his remaining sleeve. “I’m—Marinette and I aren’t… anything.”

Kagami leans back on the bench, crossing her legs at the knee. “You know that’s not true.”

“Gami, please,” he says. He drops to his knees in front of her, taking her hands in between his own. “I don’t know what Alya told you, but… I’m with you. And you’re the one I want to be with.” He purses his lips. “I don’t—”

She presses his cheeks between her hands. “Adri-kun,” she whispers. “I love her too.”

Adrien’s eyelids quiver. “What?”

Kagami presses her forehead to his. “Even before we moved away from Osaka,” she says, “I never really expected to have friends. Okaasan never let me do anything with people my age. And then I met you… and her.”

“I don’t… understand,” Adrien whispers. He’s tearing up. Trying not to cry. “Are you… breaking up with me?”

Kagami can’t help it: she laughs. “Of course not!” she says. She loosens her grip on his face, cupping his cheek, and he leans into her touch with a soft mewl. “I wouldn’t give you up for anything, Adrien.”

He melts at her words, his face collapsing into her lap with a wordless whine of relief. She smiles, stroking his hair.

“I love both of you, Adrien,” she murmurs. “And you love both of us. So can we not… share?”

Adrien stiffens. “I—what?” he says, then her words seem to process in his brain and he gasps. “The ice cream!” he says. “You—you knew.”

Kagami nods. “Monsieur Glacier can see triads,” she says, “but only if he knows to look for them. That’s why he was so confused the first time you took me to him. That why I asked.”

“Marinette’s cone was both of us…” Adrien mumbles. He blinks. “Blue eyes. You said… ‘neither of us has blue eyes’.”

Kagami nods, resumes stroking his hair. “And Marinette does.”

Adrien crawls up onto the bench next to her. “But the strawberry chocolate chip,” he says. “That’s…”

“You called her ‘Everyday Ladybug,’ did you not?” Kagami says.

He looks at her in confusion, and she turns back to the lockers. “She told me,” she admits. “I… wasn’t happy about that, at first.”

Adrien groans. “Oh, my god,” he says. “I am in love with her.”

Finally! Kagami wants to leap up, to dance, to cheer, but that’s not how a Tsurugi acts. Instead she schools her reaction down to a smile and her quivering palms.

But then his face falls. “Let’s say I do want a…” He trails off. “It doesn’t matter,” he mumbles, looking at the floor. “She doesn’t like me like that.”

Kagami freezes. “Who told you that?”

He chuckles mirthlessly. “She did.”

And suddenly a whole bunch of things fall into place, like an icepick through the front of her brain. Why Adrien seems to have been so oblivious to Marinette’s feelings. Why he thinks she’s been rejecting him all this time. Why, despite all Marinette’s signals, he’s never made a move.

“Adrien,” she says, laughing. “She—she was…” She can’t get a breath out, can’t stop laughing, can’t stop crying over how ridiculous this all is, how in love with these two dorks she is, how perfect they are for each other and how stupidly painful they’ve made everything and how, if they hadn’t, she’d have never had a chance. “She was lying!”

Adrien states at her, his face knit with confusion.

“Why do you think I disliked her so much at first?” Kagami chuckles. “She was competition.” She reaches out, flicks his nose. “She said you gave her an umbrella, and that was it for her heart.”

Adrien splutters. “But she—I don’t…” He throws his head into his hands and moans. “Why didn’t she say anything?”

“She is frightened,” Kagami says, rubbing his back. “Which means it’s up to us to make the next move.” She smiles, and she can tell her practice is paying off—it feels more natural than she can ever remember. “If this is what you want.”

Adrien swallows, nods. “I—I think I do,” he croaks, beaming back at her.

*

“The next move” ends up being taking Marinette back to Sweethearts Ice Cream. This time, with Luka.

“Luka,” Marinette says, clutching at her wrist as they walk. “Have I been… using the wrong pronouns for you?”

Adrien, whose arm is resting on Kagami’s opposite shoulder, glances sidelong at her. She simply nods in response. Be patient.

Luka chuckles. “No?” he says with wry confusion. “I’m very definitely cis. He/him is fine.”

“Oh.” Marinette’s voice falls. “It’s just… last time I was here…”

As she and Luka continue their conversation, Adrien buries his nose in Kagami’s hair. “You’re incredible, you know that?” he murmurs, just low enough that Marinette and Luka can’t hear them.

Her whole body warms, and when she tries to suppress her giggle, it comes out as a squeak instead. She’s starting to understand why Marinette is such a mess around Adrien sometimes. All her composure is evaporating, and to be honest, she’s more excited about that than scared. It’s freeing.

“Mari?” Adrien calls. “Are you sure he’s around here today?”

“Um,” Marinette responds. “Adrien… you’re looking right at him.”

Kagami raises an eyebrow. “I told you,” she says, squeezing her boyfriend’s side. “You need glasses.”

They approach André Glacier’s ice cream cart, and Kagami feels her feet and fingers begin to buzz. If she’s right about this… this is the moment. There’s no going back.

“Hello again!” André says. “Back for more Sweethearts?”

“Marinette was right,” Kagami says. “It is the best in Paris.”

André beams, quickly setting about serving Kagami and Adrien the same cone as last time. Kagami shoots Adrien a knowing look, and Adrien rolls his eyes.

André smiles, then turns to Luka. “For you…” he says, tilting his head. He glances at Marinette, then back to Luka. His mouth twists downward. “Oh.”

Luka raises an eyebrow, glancing at Kagami with suspicion. Marinette only looks confused.

“Not everyone likes every flavor,” André says, sorrow in his eyes. “And some mixes don’t find favor.” He sighs. “I can offer you a couple’s cone, but I fear you’ll wish I left alone.”

Marinette and Luka look at each other, and Luka swallows. “Goddammit,” he whispers.

“Luka?” Marinette says. “It’s—it’s just ice cream, it doesn’t… necessarily mean anything…” She trails off, looking at Adrien. “Right?”

Adrien’s mouth moves like a fish, and Kagami does not envy him. She’s watching Luka, watching grief play out across his face.

He steps forward. “Two cones, then,” he says, resolute.

André nods, reaching into his cart. “The Lady first,” he says, all the music gone from his voice. “Peach for the lips, mint for the eyes, and blackberry hair.”

Luka takes the cone, looks at Adrien and Kagami, and gently presses it into Marinette’s hand. “For you, my melody,” he whispers.

Kagami feels her chest twist at the endearment. Maybe if things were different…

“Birthday cake, fudge, and Dutch chocolate,” André says as he hands over Luka’s cone. “I’m sorry. I know you were hoping.”

Luka swallows. “I know,” he says, taking the cone. “I know.”

Adrien turns away, burying his face in Kagami’s hair. He’s shaking. She can’t blame him.

*

She’s only a little surprised when Luka texts her later that evening. She gave him her number when they first started double-dating; this is the first time she’s heard his text tone.

She glances at her door, then silences her phone, even cutting the vibration so her mother can’t hear her getting “distracted” from her work.

Luka: u knew

Kagami: I suspected

Kagami: for what it’s worth, I am sorry

Luka: wondered y u hated me

Luka: I’ve seen the way u 2 look @ her

Luka: and her @ u

Luka: take care of her?

Kagami: of course

Kagami: though I do not understand half of what you just said

Luka: I GREW UP ON FLIP PHONES

Kagami: ah. “Txting speek?”

Luka: …

Luka: never talk like th@ again pls

Kagami: it did seem ridiculous when I typed it, yes

Kagami: when are you going to do it?

Luka: already did. Dragging it out wldnt b fair 2 her

Luka: she’s gonna need u tmrw

Kagami: I’ll be there. And so will he

Luka: thx

Kagami locks her phone and gives herself a moment to feel guilty. If she hadn’t taken them to André’s, this would never have happened.

Or maybe it just would’ve happened later, after they were too involved to not be hurt by it. Maybe she saved their friendship.

She still feels guilty.

*

When she sees Marinette the next morning, the guilt gets worse. She looks despondent, listless, and though Juleka seems to be doting on her, trying to cheer her up after the breakup with her brother, most of Marinette’s energy—both her joy and her nerves—has bled out of her.

Kagami’s heart corkscrews into her stomach. She can feel the acid eating at it.

She gets updates from Adrien and Alya between classes throughout the morning. She won’t tell anyone what happened, but the whole class seems to be rallying behind her, trying to cheer her up, and things are getting… well, a little better. She’s still heartbroken, it seems, but at least she’s laughing again.

When class lets out for lunch, Kagami charges to Mme. Bustier’s class, heedless of the people in the hallways between her and her target. She bursts through the door, ignoring the confused stares of the rest of the class as she snags Marinette’s wrist. “Come on,” she says. “Okaasan thinks we have a group project.”

Marinette blinks. “What?” she says.

Kagami smiles, a fully-natural one now. “We,” she says, glancing at her boyfriend, “are taking you to lunch.”

*

Lunch is… quiet. And awkward. Kagami and Adrien sit across from a despondent Marinette in the quiet cafe, watching her pick apart her salad and meet nobody’s eyes. Kagami feels awful.

Adrien glances at her, nervously licks his lips, and she knows he’s not going to do anything. He’s going to wait for Marinette to talk. And she isn’t going to.

Don’t hesitate.

Kagami clears her throat. “Luka texted me last night,” she says.

Marinette chokes, her fork slipping out of her hand and clattering onto the table.

“Marinette?” Adrien says, his gaze soft. Kagami can see him straining not to reach out to her—how did this boy ever think he wasn’t in love?

Marinette’s eyes close, and she sniffles, wiping her nose. “I ruined it,” she whispers. “I ruined everything.”

Adrien reaches out to take her hand. “I’m sure it wasn’t your fault—”

“You don’t understand!” she cries. “He—I… I tried. I tried so hard.” She slumps into the wooden back of her chair. “I wanted to be in love with him… I really did.”

Kagami swallows. “What happened?”

Marinette sobs. “He… he asked if he…” she begins. She glances up at Adrien, then her eyes flick away just as quickly. “If… he was the one… I really wanted to be with.”

Kagami’s hand clenches around her croissant, digging trenches into the flaky crust.

“I tried to say yes,” Marinette whispers. “But I just…” She sobs again, burying her face in her hands. “I ruin—I ruined everything.” Her shoulders are shaking. “How stupid am I?”

Kagami is frozen. She wants to help, but deep down she knows that no matter what she does, what she says, it’s only going to make things worse. She has no idea what to do.

Luckily, Adrien does. “The heart wants what it wants,” he says, reaching out to squeeze Marinette’s shoulder. “You’re not stupid for feeling.”

Marinette shakes her head with a whimper. “I’m stuck on someone who doesn’t even want me,” she whispers. “Why—why can’t I let him go?”

Adrien glances at Kagami. She nods.

Adrien turns back to Marinette. “Marinette,” he says, his voice soft. “What makes you think I don’t want you?”

Marinette freezes.

A chill rockets across Kagami’s skin as all her hair stands on end at once. She can see the warring emotions in Marinette’s mind—guilt and shame and hope and elation—and for the moment, nobody moves.

Then Marinette lifts her head. “How—” she squeaks. “How did you know it was you?”

Adrien smiles. “Gami told me,” he says. He glances at Kagami, licks his lips. “I wish you’d told me earlier.”

Marinette frowns. “It… doesn’t matter anymore, anyway,” she says, looking at Kagami. “You—you’re together now, and…”

“And your ice cream flavors mentioned two people,” Kagami says, laying her hand on top of Marinette’s. “Blackberry, mint, and peach.”

Marinette’s eyes go wide.

“I have black hair.” Kagami says, then nods at Adrien. “He has green eyes.” She breathes in, interlacing her fingers with Marinette’s. “And we both have two hands.”

Marinette’s mouth drops open. “Are you…” she whispers, her eyes flicking between them both. “I don’t—I don’t understand.”

“Kagami and I are both in love with you,” Adrien says, taking her other hand. “We were hoping… that you’d be okay with sharing.”

Marinette’s mouth opens, closes, opens again. She turns to Kagami. “I—You said…” she says, her eyes narrowing. “You told me you’d be okay with losing my friendship… if it meant you could be with him.”

Kagami blinks as the bullet of Marinette’s words strikes her right in the gut. “I—I only said that to Ladybug.” She swallows. “And I said it as Ryuuko.”

The table is utterly silent for a half-second, the only sound the chatter of the cafe around them. They’re in a bubble of time when everything around them has sped up, and they are frozen as the world zips by unimpeded.

Then Adrien drops his fork. “Oh my gods,” he gasps. “My Lady?”

Marinette’s head snaps around to him. “Chaton?” she hisses.

For the second time in less than a minute, Kagami’s brain catches fire. Adrien kept speaking about a girl he liked who didn’t like him—it wasn’t Marinette who was turning him down (except it was, sort of). The two of them disappearing every time an Akuma arrived. Ladybug’s choice to call on Ryuuko whenever Marinette was with Kagami.

Oh, sweet gods, she’s fallen in love with Ladybug and Chat Noir.

“Mari-chan,” Kagami says, squeezing her hand. “The first thing I said was that I couldn’t bear to hurt you.” She looks at Adrien. “And… I said I wouldn’t give him up for the sake of our friendship.” She rubs her thumb on Marinette’s palm. “You never asked me to.”

Marinette—Ladybug—looks at her with watering eyes. “I don’t—” she begins, choking on her words. “I don’t know what to do.”

Kagami swallows. They’ve gone so far off anything she’d planned for, anything she’d prepared for, and she doesn’t know either. But she knows where to start.

“Marinette,” she says. “Don’t hesitate.”

Marinette blinks, then grabs Kagami’s lapels and yanks them both toward each other over the table, their lips mashing together with a burning heat that flashes across Kagami’s skin, followed by the feeling of every hair on her skin standing straight up, every nerve in her body sparking like she’s turned into a lightning bolt. (She has to check to make sure she’s not wearing her Miraculous—she swears she’s discorporating.)

Marinette breaks the kiss first, gasping. Kagami drops back into her chair, all her muscles loose—she’s kissed Adrien before, but she has never, in her life, been kissed the way Marinette just kissed her. She wants—she needs more.

Marinette turns to Adrien. “I’ve been in love with you since the day you gave me your umbrella,” she says.

He reaches out, takes her hand, presses her knuckles to his lips. “I’ve been in love with you since you first stood up to Hawkmoth.”

Marinette’s face glows pink. “You never really hid that,” she giggles.

Adrien nods, his own face growing steadily redder. “I—this is a lot,” he says. “I think I’m going to explode.”

“Me too,” Marinette whispers.

Kagami would concur, but she’s still speechless from the whirlwind that was Marinette’s kiss.

She looks at Kagami. “So… are we…?”

Kagami swallows, shakes herself loose. “We are... whatever you want us to be,” she says, taking Adrien’s hand. Smiling is coming easy now. “What do you want, Marinette?”

“I want you,” she says. “I want both of you.”

“You have two hands,” Adrien says, holding up his free palm. “Why not use them?”

Marinette grins. “Why not?” she says, taking both of their hands. “Mon Chaton. Ma Dragonne.”

“My Lady,” Adrien responds, melting.

Kagami’s pulse is squeezing her ears, but she has enough brainpower left to whisper one more word. “Mushi-Chan.”

[syntheticpoetry]

And the World Spins Madly On, Chapter 13

Summary:  A few weeks after visiting Kurt in New York and confessing to cheating Blaine is attacked and left for dead, resulting in a traumatic brain injury. Burt finds him on his way home from work and calls Kurt to deliver the news. How will Kurt help Blaine pick up the broken pieces when his own heart is still so conflicted?

And The World Spins Madly On (ff.net link if you’d like to leave a review!) AO3 link

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11  || Chapter 12

“I do.  He looks a little different, but I recognize him,” Cooper said quietly.  Kurt stared at him through unfocused eyes.  “What I want to know,” Cooper continued through gritted teeth.  The anger rising off of him was palpable.  It felt as though the cage of a lion had been kicked wide open and the beast was slinking out in search of flesh and blood.  “Is why that piece of shit isn’t rotting in prison.  And how you guys don’t seem to have a record in your database to match this against.”

“I don’t understand,” Detective Carson looked completely taken aback.  

“He was one of the boys that attacked Blaine when he was fourteen.  Two out of three of them were found not guilty despite the fact that they all killed someone after beating them both with a fucking tire iron.  Surely, you must have heard of it, it was only four years ago.” 

“Coop,” Kurt said warningly when Blaine had tried to bring one of his hands up to his forehead and cursed quietly when it collided with the front of the helmet. “He’s on our side here.”

“Sorry,” Cooper said strenuously.  “But this has to be somewhere in your database, right?”

“Do you have a name? I can run a search when I get back to the station,” Detective Carson held his hand out to Kurt for the sketch.  Kurt handed it back to him and scooted closer to Blaine, resting his palms on his lap while Blaine continued to shield his face.  Despite the lighting in the room casting a distorted yellow tinge to his skin, up close Kurt could see just how pale he looked beneath a thin layer of sweat.  ‘So much for calling this a good day,’ he thought bitterly as he stroked Blaine’s thighs slowly, hoping to channel some semblance of serenity into his trembling body. 

“Logan Walker,” Cooper replied, struggling to keep the edge off of his voice.  “They found him not guilty, along with Bailey Gibson, even though he was the one calling the shots.  The only one they charged was Cody Byrne, his prints were the only ones on the tire iron.  They couldn’t prove the other two were involved and this state isn’t exactly sympathetic about homophobic driven hate crimes.”

“Well, it matters to me,” Detective Carson responded, sounding rather reserved as he jotted down the list of names in a small notebook.  “I’m gonna make sure we catch these guys and that they’re locked up for good this time.  I give you my word.”

Cooper nodded stiffly and knelt down beside Blaine.  “Hey,” He whispered, “You okay?” 

Blaine let out a strained, strangled sound in affirmation and searched for Kurt’s hand while simultaneously fumbling with the clasp of the helmet.  Kurt guided his fingers over to the proper spot and helped him squeeze the sides inward to unlatch it.  At the sound of the tiny click!, Blaine forcibly pulled the straps apart and tugged the helmet off.  He dropped it to the floor where it landed with a dull thud and proceeded to splay his right hand across his forehead now that the barrier was gone. “Are we done?” 

“Yes, I know this has been very hard for you.  I’m sorry, Blaine,” Detective Carson offered sympathetically.  “I hope you’re able to enjoy the rest of your holiday.”

“Do you want to take some food with you?” Kurt asked.  It had suddenly dawned on him that the reason Detective Carson was here now was because he was working instead of being able to eat at home with his own family.  

“Oh, no, thank you––” Detective Carson proceeded to shove the small notebook into a small inner breast pocket of his jacket. 

“No, please, I insist.  You’ve been so helpful and understanding through all of this.  Let me make you a plate,” Kurt interrupted him and motioned to pull his hands away from Blaine.  Cooper stood up before he barely had the chance to retract his hands.

“Kurt, I’ll do it.  Stay with him.” 

Cooper disappeared before anyone could get another word in.  Kurt turned his attention back to Blaine, who appeared to now be employing the breathing exercises Kurt had taught him over the previous days to manage his panic attacks.  Kurt raised his hand up and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.  “You’re getting better at that, you don’t even need me to count,” he whispered, earning a solitary shaky laugh from Blaine that sounded more like a sharp exhale.

“I might need you to count,” Blaine dragged the fingers of his free hand across his forehead, and Kurt could hear how out of breath he sounded now that he was actually speaking more.  “I keep losing track, my head is pounding.”

“Sure.  You’re due for your medicine too, hopefully that’ll help with the headache,” Kurt spoke softly to avoid further aggravating his sensitivity to sound.  The last thing he figured Blaine needed was another repeat of Monday afternoon.  Detective Carson watched as Kurt proceeded to quietly count and guide Blaine through breathing exercises as though they were the only two people in the room.  Cooper returned just as they were starting another round and furrowed his brows in concern.  “Everything okay?” He offered a styrofoam plate covered in aluminum foil to Detective Carson, who had been too busy watching them to notice. 

Kurt waited until the end of their round and spoke quickly while Blaine tried to continue on his own.  “Yeah, can you grab his meds?” 

“Yeah,” Cooper tapped Detective Carson’s arm to garner his attention.  “Let us know as soon as you hear anything new?” 

“Sorry,” Detective Carson quickly took the plate from him.  “Yes, you have my word.” He waited until Cooper disappeared again and though Kurt was not looking at him he could tell he seemed to be hesitating for some reason.  Within a few seconds he appeared to come to his senses and shuffled towards the front door.  “I’m sorry again about dropping by like this.  Thank you for the plate, enjoy the rest of your holiday.”  He let himself out before Kurt could turn around and properly say goodbye.  

“Mom, really, everything’s fine,” Cooper and Emilia’s voices grew louder as they entered the room together.  He was walking in front of her, trying to shield Blaine from view but she pushed past him insistently. 

“I just want to check— Oh, sweetie,” she had taken one look at Blaine hunched over in the chair before her forehead was wrought with wrinkled worry lines.  “You don’t look well at all.  Maybe we should get you home.”

This was evidently the completely wrong thing to say.  Blaine’s head shot up so quickly it even left feeling Kurt dizzy and disoriented.  He looked at Cooper, clearly alarmed, as the little remaining colour drained from his face.  “Coop––”

“Relax,” Cooper said calmly, handing Blaine’s medication and a glass of water over to Kurt.  “Mom, he’s not going back there right now.”

“Blaine, sweetheart, I came home to take care of you,” Emilia disregarded Cooper’s declaration and diverted her attention solely to Blaine.  He squirmed uncomfortably as she continued to stare at him.  Something about the way she looked at him made him feel as though he were under a microscope, waiting to be doused in chemicals just so she could witness the reaction.  As far as he could remember, she had never shown this much interest in his well-being before. 

“Since when have you wanted to take care of me?” Blaine blurted out.  A mumbled curse beneath his breath let Kurt know the question had not been intentional.  

Emilia stared at him with something of a mix between guilt and sorrow.  The dull throbbing against his skull transformed into a steady pressure, forcing him to double back over and groan loudly.  Emilia tentatively extended her hand towards Blaine, but Cooper had gently curled his fingers around her wrist to stop her.  “Goddamnit.  Fuck,” Blaine pressed his fingers against his forehead with such force the nail beds began to turn white. “Fuck.”

“Blaine,” Kurt nudged Blaine’s knee with his own.  “Here, take these if you can.” He offered the two pills resting on his palm.  Blaine squeezed his eyes shut and stomped his foot against the ground as the pressure began to peak.  “I need a minute,” he mumbled strenuously.  

“Let me get some ice,” Cooper released Emilia’s wrist and quickly dashed out of the room.  Kurt set the glass of water down on the coffee table and closed his hand around the pills to avoid losing them.  When Cooper returned, Kurt hastily accepted the ice pack and used his fist containing the pills to gently tap on Blaine’s fingers.  “Honey, move your hand.  Let’s try this,” Kurt pressed the paper towel clad ice pack to his fingers and Blaine tentatively withdrew his hand, releasing a quiet sigh as his forehead came in contact with the cold relief.  “Helping?” Kurt asked softly.  Blaine responded with a quiet grunt and closed his hand over Kurt’s, slowly rotating his forehead against the ice pack.  Cooper had pulled Emilia aside, trying to continue the conversation in whispers, but Kurt was still able to hear every word.

“He’s not going back there—”

“Oh, honestly, Cooper, don’t be—”

“Did you even hear what he said about dad earlier? Did you know about that? Or is that something else you’re just pretending didn’t happen?” Cooper asked, his tone protective and resounding even at the low decibel he was trying to contain himself to.

“I know I haven’t done my best to stand up for him with the last time this happened,” Emilia replied.  “But I’m not letting it happen again.  It’s going to be different.  I’m going to take care of him.”

“I’m not talking about that,” Cooper raised his voice slightly, agitated and impatient, and proceeded to guide her farther away, forcing himself to regain control. His voice was still shaking with the contained anger that had been impossible to weed out.  “Didn’t you hear what he said about dad hitting him? Did you know about that? About him locking him up in closets?”

Kurt had to give her credit if she was acting, but he was willing to bet that her reaction was genuine.  Her eyes darted over in their direction and Kurt could see the same wildfire that danced in Cooper’s eyes when it came to being protective over Blaine.  And he also saw that she mirrored the same defeated expression Cooper had adapted just a few days prior when Blaine’s heavy confession about his father had finally come tumbling out.  Cooper had a point though.  Either she had completely disregarded Blaine’s accidental confession earlier or somehow did not seem to hear it at all.  Both options weighed heavily on Kurt’s conscience currently as she stumbled her way through her reaction. 

“No, he would never–– I would have noticed–– How long have you known?”

She had traversed through the stages of grief in the blink of an eye.  Kurt turned his attention back to Blaine, who appeared to be oblivious to the entire conversation.  He seized the opportunity to continue distracting Blaine and offered his medication again as the coating of the pills had begun to melt in the heat of his clenched fist.  Blaine sluggishly leaned backwards until he could go no further but kept his hand over Kurt’s.  Their fingers were clumsy and numb from the prolonged exposure to the ice.  His eyes were still closed as mumbled his response, terrified any sudden movement would thrust him right back into the full force of the migraine that continued to ebb and flow.  The throbbing had been subdued to a sporadic dull pulse on the left side of his forehead, but previous experience prevented him from being lulled into a false sense of security that it had fully passed.  With some effort, he unfurled his fingers from around Kurt’s and relinquished his hand.  Kurt set the ice pack onto the coffee table and flexed his fingers a few times before he was able to trust himself to grab the cup.  “Here,” he prompted softly, pressing the pills against Blaine’s lips.  Blaine allowed his lips to part just enough for Kurt to push them in one by one and took a small sip of water once he had tipped the cup against his mouth. 

“Thank you,” Blaine’s voice had failed him, leaving him to helplessly mouth the words. 

“You’re welcome,” Kurt encouraged him to drink some more water before setting the cup down again.  “You look like you’re ready to crash,” he brushed his fingers lightly across Blaine’s forehead.  Though the skin was now bright pink it was still cold to the touch.  Blaine leaned forward into his touch and forcibly opened his eyes.  “Are they fighting about me now?” 

Kurt glanced over his shoulder and saw Cooper and Emilia had vanished.  “I don’t think they’re fighting,” Kurt replied and slid his hand down to rest against Blaine’s cheek.  “Do you want to go lay down?” 

“Isn’t Isabelle coming soon?” Blaine closed his eyes again and gripped the arm rests on the wheelchair as a sharp throbbing above his left eye socket caught him off guard.  “I know how excited you are to see her,” he tried to downplay the pain, but Kurt saw right through the charade. 

“Blaine,” Kurt said softly. 

“I wanted to meet her,” Blaine’s grip on the armrests slackened and he opened his eyes again.  He somehow looked both disoriented and determined. 

“It doesn’t have to be tonight if you’re not feeling well,” Kurt brushed his thumb gently over Blaine’s cheek.  The tiny gesture had sent shivers down his spine.

“I’m okay, really,” Blaine insisted, continuing to lean his head into Kurt’s hand.

“For being such a great actor, you’re a terrible liar, you know,” Kurt smiled sympathetically.  

“Don’t let me and my stupid headache ruin this,” Blaine said.  Everything about his expression exuded desperation.  “Please?” 

“Fine, fine.  If you say so,” Kurt conceded.  “Shall we go join everyone at the table again?” 

“What about Coop and my mom? Should I go talk to them?” Blaine seemed hesitant at his own suggestion.  Kurt leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead.  A gentle shiver ran through his body when his warm lips connected with Blaine’s cold skin.  “They’ll know where to find us when they’re done.  Sounded like Cooper needed to catch her up on a few things anyways.” 

Blaine nodded a fraction of an inch and Kurt secured the helmet to his head once again before they returned to the table to find everyone had seemingly put their dinner on pause in their absence.  Kurt took his seat beside Blaine and picked up his cutlery again, “You two really outdid yourselves this year, even without my help.” After that dinner proceeded like normal, each of them taking turns in conversation as though nothing had happened.  Between encouraging Blaine to eat, despite the fact that it looked like the last thing on Earth he wanted to be taking part in, Kurt continued to text Isabelle beneath the table and had solidified a time for her to stop by.  He had also given her an extremely hasty summarized version of events ending with Blaine isn’t feeling well but still wants to meet you.  Cooper and Emilia returned as Finn and Carole were clearing the table.   Their plates still remained in place, untouched.  Both of their eyes were bleary and puffy with the untold story of a thousand secrets.  Blaine’s eyes darted back and forth between them questioningly as Cooper took his seat and Emilia remained standing, her gaze unfocused.

“Mom, sit.  Please,” Cooper pulled on her hand gently.  She sank down into the chair beside him and dabbed at her eyes with the silky material of her powder blue blouse sleeve.  

“What the hell happened? Why is she looking at me like that?” Blaine could no longer contain his thoughts. “Fuck, I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“Honey, I’m so sorry,” Emilia replied instantly, her eyes welling up with fresh tears.  Cooper’s face contorted with what seemed to be disappointment as soon as she had spoken, as though she was a child who had betrayed a promise to keep a secret to herself.  “Sweetie, I never knew.”

“Never knew what? Don’t tell me you never noticed anything,” Blaine said with an air of impatience.  Kurt slid his hand onto Blaine’s thigh beneath the table in a gesture of comfort, but Blaine misinterpreted it as patronizing instead.  “No, I wanna know why she’s looking at me like that.  What were you guys talking about? Cooper,” Blaine narrowed his eyes at his brother suspiciously.  He had completely lost control now.  “What did you—” As he soaked up his brother’s guilty expression, a realization suddenly dawned upon him.  “No.  No, no, no, Cooper you didn’t.” 

“Blaine, you have to try to calm down,” Kurt squeezed his thigh lightly.  “Remember what we talked about—”

“Cooper, tell me you didn’t.  You promised that was just between you and me.  Tell me it’s something else.  Tell me you didn’t,” Blaine asked urgently, ignoring Kurt.  Snippets of one of the articles Isabelle had sent paraded to the forefront of Kurt’s mind— ‘Increased aggressiveness, increased anxiety, reduced self-control,’ — as Blaine remained hyper fixated, raising his voice.  All of his sentiments were merging together like a train collision.  There was no space in between for Cooper, or anyone, to get a word in against him.  “Why aren’t you saying anything?” Blaine asked impatiently after what he must have perceived to be a long delay.  In actuality, there had been maybe half a second between the question and his previous statement.

“Because I know you don’t want to actually have this conversation in front of everyone,” Cooper responded calmly.  That seemed to force Blaine to come back to himself.  One quick glance around the table and he suddenly realized Burt, Finn and Carole were still in the room with them.  They had become ghosts in their own home, silently observing the Anderson family torturously ripping apart at the seams.  “We were going to talk to you after dinner, wasn’t that what we agreed on, mom?” Cooper continued, still maintaining the same calm tone of voice.  Emilia demurely nodded her head once.  “But we can do that now if you don’t want to wait.” 

The doorbell rang and no one moved.  Kurt did not want to leave Blaine’s side, but knew full well who was at the door this time.  “That’ll be Isabelle,” he said.

“I’ll let her in,” Burt offered, clearly desperate for the opportunity to leave the room.  He left to answer the door and Isabelle’s bubbly voice carried over into the kitchen as she greeted him, completely unaware of the scene she was intruding on.  

“What do you want to do, Blaine?” Kurt had not removed his hand from Blaine’s lap and continued to alternate between rubbing his thigh and squeezing it soothingly.  He appeared to remain undecided, alternating his attention between Cooper and Emilia before he finally said, “Tell me yes or no first.  Tell me that and then we talk later.” 

Cooper sighed heavily and pushed his plate away.  The silverware shook and clattered lightly against the porcelain in the silence.  After what felt like eons crammed into the small stretch of time, he offered a simple, “Yes.” 

Blaine clenched his fists together tightly and painfully tore his eyes away from his brother to look at Kurt.  Whatever he was thinking, it was no longer evident in his expression.  His tone had changed entirely.  There was no anger or urgency anymore.  Instead, he sounded almost confident as he asked, “So about that introduction?”

“Right,” Kurt replied numbly.  Blaine the actor had finally made an appearance again.  The one who had always been able to shove down his own emotions into the farthest depths as he prepared to perform for the world around him.  The transition had always been so subtle.  Something completely natural and unnoticeable.  As Kurt’s body moved on autopilot to stand and navigate Blaine into the living room towards Isabelle’s faint laughter, he wondered how he had never been able to realize whenever Blaine managed to flip the switch between personalities. 

‘Of course I’ve never noticed, he’s probably used the same trick on me a million times.’

In the living room, Burt was being completely steamrolled by Isabelle’s excitement as she jabbered away.  Her face lit up when Kurt wheeled Blaine into the room.  “Hello, my darling!” She glided over to him as though she was some ethereal being simply floating above the floorboards and wrapped an arm around Kurt in a one handed embrace.  In her other hand she was carefully balancing an aluminum pie tin.  She pulled away, positively beaming, and turned her attention to Blaine.  “And you must be Blaine, I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Uh-oh, is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Blaine jested and smiled, extending his hand out to her.  “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“It’s a good thing.  I’m a hugger, if that’s alright with you, darling,” she leaned over to give him the same warm hearted welcome she had offered to Kurt once he had lowered his hand and agreed.  “Sorry, I’m late.  You know how these family get togethers go.  Put us all in a room and the sun will be rising if no one cuts me off.” 

“I can see why Kurt gets along with you so well,” Blaine laughed.  Kurt was finding it far more difficult than he was to slip into the idea of normalcy as the scene played out.  He was roused from his daydreaming when Blaine had subtly reached out to touch his hand and smiled without missing a beat.  

“Sorry, don’t mind me.  Starting to slip into one of those post food comas,” Kurt squeezed Blaine’s hand gently, tethering himself back down again.  

“I hope you’ve saved room; this pumpkin pie isn’t world famous for nothing!” Isabelle held it up as though it was an Olympic torch.  “Do you need help setting anything out?”

“No, no, don’t be silly,” Burt interjected.  “Make yourself comfortable, I’m going to help my wife bring out the rest of the desserts.  Can I get you something to drink?”

“A coffee would be fabulous.  Thanks so much.” Isabelle set the pie plate on the coffee table and took a seat on the couch as Burt disappeared into the kitchen.  “Did you boys have a good Thanksgiving?”

“It’s been eventful, to say the least,” Blaine mumbled to himself.

“What’s that?” Isabelle asked.

“Nothing,” Blaine straightened up in his seat.  “How are you liking being back home? Kurt said you grew up in Ohio.”

“It’s always nice to see everyone, but I would be lying if I said I missed actually being here.  My heart’s still in New York.  It gets too quiet here for me, I need the buzz of the city.”

“There really is nothing quite like it,” Kurt agreed fondly.  

“Sounds like you both really miss it,” Blaine said.  His act had betrayed him and the statement had come out sounding forlorn and distant.  As Kurt opened his mouth to reply, Burt returned carrying a large platter with assorted cookies balanced on one hand and Isabelle’s coffee in the other.  Behind him the rest of the family followed in line, Finn carrying some small plates, Carole with a homemade chocolate cake, Cooper with silverware and some napkins, and Emilia, who had managed to make herself appear more composed.  After everyone had settled in, the remainder of the evening flew by in a whirlwind of laughter as Isabelle regaled them with stories of what she liked to call ‘New York Moments.’  Blaine contributed to the conversation, flawlessly falling into step with Isabelle’s ardor as though they were old friends.  Kurt had been so caught off guard, he struggled to keep up with them.  His mind still lingered on just how seamlessly Blaine had managed to transition into this character he was playing.  A character that looked a lot like the old, ultra-confident boy who had taken hold of Kurt’s hand at Dalton and led him down a hallway towards a performance that literally had changed their lives.  As he took the backseat and observed their interactions, some tiny part of his brain chirped quietly from his subconscious. ‘Which Blaine is the real Blaine?’

At around midnight though Blaine had seemingly exerted all of his energy and was struggling to stay awake.  Every few seconds or so Kurt noticed him nodding off and waking with a jolt as his chin came down towards his chest.  He would cross his arms and straighten his back, trying to sit tall and keep himself awake.  After the fourth time it happened Kurt subtly leaned forward to whisper to him as Isabelle continued to entertain everyone else, “Time for bed?” 

“M’supposed to talk to Coop and my mom,” Blaine drawled on sleepily and rubbed his eyes. 

“There’s always tomorrow.  Plus you have an early start, don’t you?” Blaine looked puzzled and Kurt continued.  “Your follow up appointment and then you have that session with Dr. MacManus.” 

“Oh, right.  I forgot.” The words came stretched on the wings of a long yawn.  Blaine rubbed his eyes again and Kurt patted his thigh lightly. 

“Come on, I’ll lie down with you,” Kurt said. 

“You can stay up if you want,” Blaine paused through another long yawn and pulled on the chin strap of the helmet.  “I know you probably want some one on one time with Isabelle.  Don’t argue, I know that you do,” He added before Kurt could protest.  He was not wrong; Kurt did want to catch up with her away from everyone else.  Especially after the performance Blaine had just given.

“Okay.  You want me to help you to bed at least?” 

“Yeah, could you, please?” He pulled on the helmet strap again.  “Can’t wait to take this thing off.” 

Kurt smiled sympathetically and stood up.  “I’m just gonna help Blaine to bed, I’ll be right back.”

“I didn’t even realize how late it is,” Cooper announced in reply.  “Mom, I should probably drive you home.  We have to be up early tomorrow,” Emilia looked as though she wanted to argue, but thought better of it and nodded.  “Burt, Carole, thank you for having me,” Emilia said sheepishly.

“Our pleasure,” Burt responded. 

“Blaine?” She approached him tentatively and stopped just shy of arm’s reach.  He looked up at her, his head heavy with drowsiness.  “Can we talk tomorrow?” 

Blaine nodded slowly in his sleepy trance and she smiled wearily before turning on her heel to approach Cooper.  “Wait,” Blaine’s small voice drew her attention back to him and he shyly continued, “You’re not gonna hug me goodbye?” Something broke within her and it was evident on her face as she leaned over to embrace him.  Kurt watched them sadly, knowing full well that he was going to stay up and wait for Cooper to return to press him for the details of their earlier conversation.  When they finally broke apart everyone took their time saying their goodbyes before Cooper and Emilia left. 

“Isabelle, could you hang around for a bit?” Kurt asked as he unlocked the wheelchair brakes. 

“Of course, darling.”

“Kurt, I could help him to bed if you want,” Finn surprisingly announced.  “If Blaine doesn’t mind, that is.” Kurt and Blaine simultaneously responded. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got—”

“I don’t mind.” 

Kurt yielded control of the wheelchair to Finn and gently patted Blaine’s shoulder.  Blaine brought his hand up and placed it over Kurt’s, lingering momentarily before dropping it down onto his lap again.  As they rounded the corner and disappeared he turned to Isabelle.  “Wanna step outside for a minute?” They navigated their way through the kitchen and towards the garden table.  The second Kurt had slid the screen door shut, Isabelle’s animated voice permeated the quiet air, “You’re positively smitten with him.” 

“That obvious, huh?” Kurt’s shoulders slumped and he sank down into one of the dark green metal chairs.  “I know you said to set boundaries, but I realized that’s all I’ve been doing since I got home.  Setting rules and keeping my distance.  It was exhausting.  He’s apologized a million times and I really do believe him.  I want to forgive him.  I want to trust him again.  I want him to trust me because it’s obvious to see now that he’s been holding so much of himself back.  Does that make me crazy?”

“How did it feel when you kissed the other night?” Isabelle asked.

“It felt,” Kurt could not help but smile as he reminisced.  “Like coming home.”

“I don’t think it makes you crazy, Kurt.  But have you two talked more about everything since then?”

“A little,” Kurt replied guiltily.  “Not really.  Not as much as we should have.  There are just so many other things going on right now, I’m waiting for the right time.”

“Can I give you my honest opinion?” 

“Always.”

“It sounds like you’re avoiding some of the difficult stuff because you’re trying to protect him.  Which doesn’t seem fair to either of you,” Isabelle said. 

“So, what should I do?” Kurt asked desperately.  “Everything is such a mess and I just want it to be normal again.” 

“What’s keeping you from forgiving him?” Isabelle asked.  “Are you afraid he’ll do it again?” 

“I was,” Kurt replied automatically.  

“And you aren’t anymore?” She probed.  

They sat in silence as Kurt contemplated his response.  Deep down, he really did believe Blaine had regretted his actions.  That he had acted only out due to a combination of their miscommunication and his own mountain of insecurities.  The more he was coming to learn about Blaine’s past through his accidental confessions the more he came to understand the complex machinery of his ex-lover’s inner world of twisted turmoil.  Aside from Cooper, anyone Blaine had ever come to trust or rely on had completely betrayed or disregarded him.  He had been singled out and bullied not only at school, but at home too.  Two of out of his three previous attackers had been allowed to walk free from an assault and murder charge.  And while Kurt had offered him his own trust and love, Blaine still kept himself guarded.  He had only allowed Kurt to view tiny glimpses of his life, and even that appeared to be an act bred of his own need to please others while casting himself aside.  He thought back to Blaine’s confession in New York — ‘I thought I was losing you’ — and felt his stomach lurch.  He had let his demons fester and infect their relationship to the point of believing Kurt would abandon him the same way everyone else he had ever come to rely on did.

“He wouldn’t do it again,” Kurt said finally. 

“Something is keeping you from forgiving him though.  And until you figure out what it is, you’re going to be stuck in this same loop, sweetie.  Where things sort of feel normal, but you’re still avoiding these major problems and they inevitably resurface,” Isabelle offered a sympathetic smile and reached over to the table.  Kurt slid his hands into hers.  

“I think,” Kurt said slowly, the wheels in his head still turning slowly as he continued, “What’s holding me back is that it feels like he can’t trust me enough to show me who he really is,” he exhaled sharply and tilted his head back slightly as his vision became blurry with the threat of tears on the horizon.  “And if he can’t trust me to let me in, how can I trust him? That Blaine you just met in there? That’s partly him, but it makes me wonder how much of himself he keeps locked away when he isn’t trying to please everyone around him.”

“Well,” Isabelle said softly, “There you go.” 

“I keep wondering if he would still be keeping everything to himself if he was able to control it.  I think about it a lot, actually.  He’s become completely incapable of keeping secrets, and I’m scared he’ll just hide himself away again the second he’s able to,” Kurt sniffled loudly.  “If he’s able to, I guess.  Since they have no idea what kind of lasting damage there will be.  God, this whole thing is just terrifying.  I wish it never happened.” 

“I'm sorry, sweetie,” Isabelle offered consolingly. “I find it best not to let my mind wander too far away from the situation I’m in.  Otherwise the possibilities will never end.” 

“It’s funny you say that because I’ve been parroting the same response to everyone else,” Kurt laughed sardonically. 

“Time to practice what you preach then, my friend.” 

“I suppose you’re right, as usual,” Kurt pulled a hand away to run his fingers through his hair.  

“I know it’s difficult to think about, but what are your long term plans, Kurt? Say you forgive him and you boys make up, then what?” Isabelle asked with innocent curiosity.  The way she posed her inquiries never felt like the interrogations that Rachel usually subjected him to.  And he loved her for that.  She had a sort of candor about her that could make anyone feel right at home.

“I really don’t know,” Kurt replied quietly.  There had not been much time to consider the possibilities of reconciliation between them when everything forced him to focus on the moment.  The scope of his vision had been reduced to day-to-day, measured in good ones or bad ones depending on how much Blaine had either regressed or accomplished. 

“Just something to ponder and maybe discuss with him, don’t you think?” Isabelle cocked her head to one side and smiled half-heartedly.  He knew she was right.  Of course she was right.  She had been right about everything already thus far.  

“Yes,” Kurt replied, resigned.  “I’ll talk to him this weekend.  We need a mature heart-to-heart, that’s pretty evident.”  Isabelle squeezed his hands and smiled.  “So,” Kurt continued, shrugging his shoulders slightly.  “What did you think of him?”

Isabelle laughed.  “Well, he’s certainly a teenage dream, that’s for sure.”

“Yes,” Kurt laughed quietly.  “Yes, he is.”

___________________________________________________

“Tell me again why we had to make this appointment so early?” Blaine drawled in the passenger seat and dragged his knuckles across his eyes in a desperate attempt to knead away the exhaustion overtaking his eyelids.  Beside him Cooper spared a moment from scanning the road for the right building to roll his eyes.

“Since when is ten o’clock early for you?” 

“Lay off, it’s not my fault,” Blaine responded grumpily and folded his arms across his chest. 

“I’m only teasing,” Cooper smoothly navigated his way into a parking space and shifted the gear into park.  The car lurched briefly as it came to a still and he twisted the key in the ignition, abruptly cutting off the song Blaine had been quietly singing along to.  “Was last night as bad as the rest of the week?” 

“You mean you somehow slept through all the screaming?” Blaine mumbled as he unlatched his seatbelt and slid it across his chest slowly.  

“I only came back this morning to pick you up,” Cooper replied.  “I stayed at home last night.” Blaine tugged at the strap of his helmet and spared a sideways glance at his brother.  “Didn’t plan on it, but I kind of got into a screaming match with dad and then stayed up late talking to mom after.  I just ended up napping there for a few hours before I came back to get you ready to go.” 

“Oh,” Blaine offered quietly.  

“I know you want to ask about it, I can tell,” Cooper responded.  “But we’re gonna be late, so we can talk about it later.  I promise.” Blaine nodded meekly and sent his mind into overdrive as Cooper exited and proceeded to help him out of the car.  It was another conversation to add to the growing list ahead of them.  He thought back to his outburst at dinner last night after Cooper and their mother had returned to the table and found himself lingering on the way she studied him with such pity in her eyes.  He felt naked and embarrassed being exposed like this, constantly under observation from everyone.  Despite their best efforts, he knew they were all walking on eggshells around him.  He hated it.  It made him feel fragile.  One false move and he would crumble to pieces before their eyes, just like they all expected him to.  

______________________________________________

“So how was your holiday?” Dr. MacManus asked.  She was sitting opposite Blaine on a red leather, cushy armchair with one leg crossed over the other.  Perched against her thigh was a yellow legal pad.  Blaine propped his head up on the arm of the wheelchair and stared out of the window into the parking lot.  The sky has become overcast in dark grey between his first appointment and the trip to her office, bearing the threat of an impending storm.  The irony was not lost on him.  “Your brother mentioned your parents came home.” 

“I saw my mom,” Blaine stated tonelessly.  “Not my dad.  What else did he tell you?”

“I want to hear your version of events, Blaine.  Not his.”  She folded her hands atop the pad and waited patiently. 

“What if I don’t feel like talking right now?” Blaine said bitterly.  In actuality, he had come prepared with a million burning questions buzzing around his head until the news from his follow-up appointment earlier in the morning wiped everything away.  While Cooper had already reminded him of the upcoming brain surgery they had scheduled for mid-December, neither of them were prepared for the news that Blaine’s knee might never heal properly even with the elective surgery to repair his ACL.  At the mention of the word ‘cane’ Blaine had completely shut down and tuned out the rest of the conversation.  While the vertigo had him worried for when he felt well enough to start dancing again the thought of never being able to dance again at all had been too much to bear. 

“That’s okay too, if you don’t feel like it right now,” Dr. MacManus’ voice cut through the buzzing self-pity and he sighed heavily. 

“This just fucking sucks.  All of it.  It’s not fair,” Blaine finally stated.  He turned away from the window to face her and had suddenly adapted Kurt’s habit of speaking with his hands as he continued to lash out.  “I just want it to stop.  I want to stop feeling so useless and scared.  I want everyone to stop looking at me like a pathetic broken toy.  I just— Is it so much to ask for a fucking break? Just one.” He dropped his hands onto his lap and returned his gaze to the window. “Maybe I deserved it.”

“What do you mean by that, Blaine?” She leaned forward in her chair. 

“What?” Blaine begrudgingly glanced in her direction, keeping his eyes downcast to pretend like he was not trying to notice her, before returning to gazing out at the parking lot. 

“You said ‘maybe I deserved it,’ what did you mean by that?” 

“Goddamnit, I didn’t mean to— I can’t even keep my own thoughts private either.  Everything is just out on display for everyone all the damn time!” Blaine raised his hands up in exasperation.  She offered a sincere, sympathetic half-smile in return.  He dropped his hands down into his lap and curled them into fists, tugging at the fabric of his pants.  Kurt would have a heart attack if he saw the wrinkles he was working into the material.  “I don’t want to talk about that.” 

“Alright, well can you tell me what kind of person you think deserves what happened to you?” Dr. MacManus asked politely.

“I don’t know,” Blaine replied, losing the edge in his voice.  “No one.” 

“If you believe nobody else does, then why would you think that you do, Blaine?” 

“Because,” Blaine replied automatically and pursed his lips together to try to stop the remainder of the thought.  As usual, it came tumbling out before he could stop himself.  “I’m a bad person.” 

“Why?” She pressed on. 

“Stop,” Blaine whispered.  He wanted to scream.  Wanted to rip up the ugly beige carpet she had lined her office with and hide himself away like all of the secret things you kept away from the world beneath the floorboards.

“Why do you think you’re a bad person?” Her tone was gentle, but the alarm bells in his brain still told him it felt like an attack.  She was interrogating him.  Pushing him.  Even after they had established he did not need to discuss anything he did not want to talk about. 

“Stop,” Blaine repeated, louder this time.  “Stop it.” 

“Blaine,” She set the blank legal pad aside and uncrossed her legs.  “I think you have a lot of anger and pain that you don’t know how to deal with any other way than turning it inward toward yourself.  I know you aren’t going to exactly trust me after the one session we had at the hospital, but I am on your side here.  I can’t help you if you don’t let me.  Deep down past this barrier you’ve put up I think you do want that help, or else you wouldn’t have agreed to keep seeing me once you were discharged.  I could guess at things.  I could bring up all your brother’s concerns.  But we both know unless you bring yourself to say what’s bothering you it’s not going to matter what I do or don’t know.  It has to come from you.” 

Blaine chewed on his lip and ran his fingers over the clasp of the helmet chin strap. “I think my dad hates me,” he surrendered quietly.  “I don’t know when it started, but I think that he does.  And for as long as I can remember, which— let’s be honest, that doesn’t mean much these days,” He added the small jab of self-deprecation as a joke.  She did not laugh.  “I figured there must be something wrong with me.  Something I must have done.  Because what other reason could there be? And on top of that, what do I go and do to the one person I love more than anything in this whole world? Cheat on him.  Hurt him.  So, yeah, maybe I deserved what was coming.  Maybe it was just the universe fighting back to balance the scales again.”

“And I think truly terrible things happen to very good people sometimes, Blaine.  There’s a lot to unpack here so let’s break this down a little bit, okay?” He nodded stiffly and took to chewing on his fingernails instead.  “What makes you think your father hates you?”

“Before he started completely ignoring my existence?” Blaine said bitterly before he ripped off a piece of his nail between his teeth.  He spit the fragment into his lap.  “He used to hit me and lock me in closets.  Would tell me I wasn’t his son.  After the first attack he just took to flat out ignoring and avoiding me.” He moved onto another fingernail to gnaw on.  After confessing this all to Cooper, Kurt and Finn the other day it seemed easier now to let the words come tumbling out to her.  

“I’m very sorry to hear that, Blaine.  Can you remember how old you were when this started?” 

“I don’t know, maybe like 10? Things get kind of jumbled around when I try to think about it.”

“Can you remember anything before then?” 

“Sometimes, but not really.  Bits and pieces with Cooper, but a lot of it feels,” He paused as he wracked his brain for the right word. “Fuzzy? I don’t know.” 

“Barring your physical injury, there could be a number of things attributing to that,” She said and pulled the legal pad back to her to finally begin writing on it. 

“Like what?” He shifted in his seat to sit up and a sharp jolt reverberated from his knee straight down the rest of his leg.  He grimaced and casually placed his hand over his knee as though he could press the pain back down into the synapses responsible for causing the painful response to his sudden movement.  Dr. MacManus’ eyes were on the pad, focused on writing.  She had not noticed. 

“There’s a chance your brain could have repressed certain memories, sort of like a defense mechanism.  Sometimes people are simply just unable to remember things past a certain age.  Your recent trauma, coupled with the previous assault, has also had a profound effect on you and PTSD can cause lapses in memory or blackouts.  There are some exercises we can try in later sessions, but right now I want to focus on things you can remember.  You say you think you were around 10, do you remember anything leading up to the moment?” 

“Not— No, not really,” Blaine ripped off another nail fragment and shoved his hands beneath his thighs to stop himself as Kurt’s voice sounded off in his head to dissuade him against the further mutilation.  “I just remember him shoving me in.  He was,” He squinted as though it would bring the fuzzy image into focus.  “He was angry about something, I could barely understand him, he was screaming so loud.  I couldn’t tell you what he said, it’s just this like… garbled static.” 

“Was anyone else at home?” She peered up at him, her pen still poised on the pad.

“Cooper was gone by then, moved out to LA.  My mom,” Blaine frowned and strained to recall.  “I don’t know if she was there.  I don’t think she was.  I think it was just my dad and me.” 

“Who would let you out again after he locked you in?” 

“He would,” Blaine shifted and pressed his hands down against the seat to fight the urge to start chewing on his nails again.  “I don’t know how much time would pass in between.  Progressively, I think he kept me in there longer and longer.  The harder he hit me, the longer it felt like I was in there anyways.” 

“Can you remember any happy memories with him?” 

“Some, I guess.  Mostly the ones involving Cooper.  Just me and him though? Barely.  It’s been harder to remember things like that lately.  I get… confused sometimes.  This week has been kind of tough.”

“Do you want to talk about that at all?”

Blaine squirmed and caved in, resorting to chewing on his thumb nail.  His words came rushed, just as they had last night, with very little space in between the sentences.  “I’m guessing Cooper told you about it already.  It’s been getting worse.  I can’t sleep through a single night anymore.  I forgot who Kurt was the other day.  That’s never happened before.  I wanted to die when they told me, because that’s what it felt like.  Like I’d been kicked in the chest and my heart was going to stop.  I’m terrified I’m gonna just lose it all one day.  That everything will be wiped away and I’ll just be some helpless blank slate who can’t even remember his own name.” He seemed shocked at his own admission.

“Did you mean to say that out loud?” She asked.

“I think I did, actually,” Blaine replied.  She smiled. 

“It’s difficult to accept when things are out of our control.  I have to imagine that constant fear makes it nearly impossible to concentrate, which can be why you have such a difficult time with your memories.  Again, I’m sure the physical injury has something to do with it, but you saying it’s been getting worse since the nightmares and flashbacks have been progressively getting worse leads me to believe it’s more the anxiety you’re feeling than anything else.  I want to give you a prescription for Zoloft, I think it can help with the panic attacks.” 

“Great, more meds,” Blaine grumbled.  He remembered the name from a television commercial.  “Isn’t that for depression?” 

“There’s nothing wrong with needing a little extra help sometimes, Blaine,” She smiled sympathetically.  ““It can help with PTSD and anxiety too; it’s called an SSRI.  If it’s the right medication for you then we’ll start to see a decrease in those panic attacks and feelings of fear and helplessness.”  She cast a sideways glance on the clock above the door.  “We still have a little more time; do you want to talk more about your recent break up? It seems to be weighing pretty heavily on you, based on your previous statement.  It must be really hard being around your ex with completely different dynamics.” 

Blaine hovered his palm over his mouth to hide the way his lips had tugged into a smile.  He had no clue what to call whatever was happening between him and Kurt.  The entire thing confused him to no end, but he worried bringing attention and talking about it would cause whatever good thing they had going to come to a screeching halt.  No.  He wanted to keep that for himself for now.  “Can we talk about something else?” 

“Sure, Blaine.  Have you been practicing those relaxation and grounding exercises I passed along to your brother?” 

“I try to.  Kurt’s been helping me with breathing exercises too.”  ‘I can almost do them without his help.’ The thought had remained contained within his own head for once. “I’ve been okay for the most part when I’m awake, but when I fall asleep,” He trailed off.  The image of Kurt’s face from the other morning when he had forgotten him, terrified and absolutely devastated, had become ingrained into his thoughts.  If there was anything he wished he could permanently erase, it was that pained expression.  “I can’t control what happens then.” 

“Are the nightmares about the recent attack?” 

“Most of the time.  Sometimes the first one.  Sometimes,” Blaine swallowed hard and cleared his throat quietly.  There had been more than a few nights when he could not tell which nightmares were actual memories or over exaggerated depictions of his darkest, deepest fears.  “Sometimes it’s other stuff, but mostly that.”

“Extra stress can sometimes be an added trigger.  It’s going to take some time for the Zoloft to kick in before we notice any changes.  I know it’s a difficult thing to ask, may even seem impossible, but working on managing that stress and focusing on staying relaxed is probably the best thing you can actively do right now.”

“You’re right,” Blaine restlessly brushed his fingers over his lips.  Their hour long session was starting to feel like a director’s cut version of a Lord of the Rings film.  “That does sound impossible.”

“You mentioned breathing exercises, do you do those regularly or only in response to the panic attacks?” 

“Usually after I’m already worked up or starting to feel really anxious.”

“I want you to try to incorporate it more throughout your day.  I would try to do it right before bed.  Or something you find relaxing.  I remember you mentioned your love of music at our last session?” Blaine nodded once to affirm her recollection.  “Do something you enjoy, make your bed feel like a safe place instead of treating it like somewhere you go to relive your worst memories.” 

“And if that doesn’t work?” Blaine asked apprehensively.

“Then we’ll think of something else.  One step at a time, Blaine.” 

“Yeah, well I’m not exactly taking any actual steps anywhere anytime soon,” Blaine grumbled under his breath and tugged at the chin strap.  

“I take it you got some bad news?” She inquired.  By then he’d had enough.  He could not remember what time they started, but there was no way they had not exceeded the hour. 

“Can we end here for now? I just,” He shifted in the chair again.  Within the last fifteen minutes he had grown progressively more restless and uncomfortable.  “I’m really tired and I’m just really sick of talking about myself today.” 

“Okay,” She smiled politely.  “You did really well today, Blaine.  I know it may not feel like it, but you are making progress in your recovery.”  He returned her statement with a tight lipped smile.  “Is it still okay that I talk to your brother? You still want him involved, correct?” 

“Yeah, it’s fine.  Do I need to be in here for it?” His hands were already positioned on the wheels, ready to leave.  At the first sign of her head tilting forward he was wheeling himself towards the door.  With some effort he twisted the doorknob and maneuvered his way out into the waiting room where he had left Cooper at the start of the session.  He was in the exact same chair, his legs stretched out in front of himself with his arms folded across his chest.  His head was tilted down towards his chest.  He appeared to be asleep.

“Coop?” Cooper immediately lifted his head and looked in his direction.  He looked as exhausted as Blaine felt and the fragment of the early morning conversation came fleeting from the depths of the abyss to remind him that Cooper had also not gotten much sleep the night before.  Blaine glided over to him and did not wait for a response.  “She wants to talk to you.” 

“Go okay?” Cooper unfurled his arms and stood up, stretching languidly.  

“Yeah, I guess,” Blaine shrugged.  “I’ll wait for you here.” 

Cooper gave his shoulder a gentle pat and disappeared into Dr. MacManus’ office, leaving Blaine to sift through a pile of magazines.  It was moments like this he wished he still had his phone.  He made a mental note to talk to Cooper about getting a new one sometime soon.  He glanced at a clock on the wall and was shocked to discover it was nearly half past four.  After the events of the day he was not sure where he was supposed to muster the energy from for the conversation he was still meant to have with Cooper and his mother.  If it was still happening.  Cooper had not mentioned it at all yet.  He took to wheeling himself around the table in the center of the waiting room to pass the time, trying to force himself to stop stealing glances at the clock.  The more he tried to avoid it though, the more his head jerked upwards to see that the minute hand had only moved a fraction of an inch.  

He sighed loudly and decided to go back to the pile of magazines.  At first glance, they all seemed to be outdated copies of Psychology Today.  At the very bottom of the pile, the last glossy booklet caught his attention.  The words ‘DANCE’ was written across the top in bold yellow font, with ‘The world at your feet’ in smaller text beneath it.  The text beside the man featured on the cover said ‘Andy Blankenbuehler’s Broadway.’ The subject, presumably Andy Blankenbuehler, was dressed in charcoal gray slacks and a long-sleeved white button-up dress shirt.  Both the top two and bottom two buttons were undone, letting the shirt fall loosely over his clearly toned physique.  Around his neck was an undone green and black checkered tie.  Perched atop his head was a black felt bowler hat.  He had been photographed mid pose that very much reminded Blaine of a scene straight out of Chicago, it was a classic sexy jazz pose.  He had one leg bent at a forty five degree angle, the other straight out, as his torso twisted towards the camera.  Only the profile of his face was visible, especially with the bowler hat tipped down.  One hand was positioned near the brim of the hat, his ring finger resting comfortably against the accessory to tilt it downwards.  

The image sent chills down his spine as he plucked the magazine off of the table and continued to study it in his lap.  He knew this move.  Had practiced and perfected it in his bedroom and the McKinley auditorium.  Seeing it now had ignited something in the pit of his stomach.  At first he thought it might have been jealousy or some rampant form of self-pity festering and bubbling up to remind him of the conversation from the doctor’s office earlier.  But as he continued to stare, he recognized that it was not a malicious feeling.  It was motivation.  He was not going to sit and be told what was and was not to be expected of his recovery.  They had repeatedly told him what a shock it was to see him awake from the coma with so many pieces of himself still intact.  So why should he force himself to be resigned to the possibility of never being able to dance again just because some doctor had told him so?

He was still staring at the cover by the time Cooper had returned with Dr. MacManus at his side.  “Ready to go?” 

Blaine glanced up at them and nodded.  “Dr. MacManus, can I keep this?” He held up the magazine.

“Sure, Blaine.  Nobody usually reads them anyways.  Enjoy it.” 

They said their goodbyes and confirmed the next appointment set for Tuesday.  In the car, Blaine had kept the magazine propped on his lap and silently continued to study the image as Cooper drove.  The radio volume had been set so low the music was barely audible, causing a strange white-noise sensation to fill the space surrounding them.  As Cooper pulled onto the highway, Blaine’s eyes were still on the cover as he spoke, “I don’t care what they say, I’m gonna dance again, Coop.” 

“I know you are, Blaine.”

_______________________________________

This is the magazine cover

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Aliit ori'shya tal'din Chapter 5

Jango Fett x reader

Word Count: 1290

Summary: Jedi suck.

As if crashing because his jetpack gave out wasn’t bad enough, Jango’s heart seized up when he saw a Jedi ship in the sky clearly headed in the direction of the Mandalorian camp. If they found his people, the results could be disastrous. Especially given how divided Mandalorians on the whole were. Between the pacifists that would see their culture destroyed, Death Watch that wanted to take the warrior lifestyle way too far, and his people--the True Mandalorians--that only wanted to maintain their practices and beliefs, their very way of life was threatened.

And to make matters worse, you were in that camp.

“Myles, do you copy?” Jango tried to maintain his usual, ‘Leader’ tone for that question. “Myles? This is Jango. Do you copy?” His voice was a little more frantic. Through much struggle and a groan of pain, he forced his way to his feet. The ship roared over his head, closer and clearly coming in to land.  “Myles, if you can hear me, evac the camp.” Hopefully the connection was only having issues one way. He saw the ship’s ramp descending from the corner of his eyes as he tried to hurry. “Myles!” he was shouting now, running towards the camp as fast as he could manage through the snow with the weight of his armor. He could hear their footsteps getting far too close. “Get everyone out now!”

Desperation drove his movement as he tried to beat the Jedi to the camp. It felt like the powdery snow was replaced by thick mud with how difficult it was to wade through, but he managed to reach the edge of the crater that hid their camp before the now-running Jetii managed to. “INCOMING!”

His shout pierced the air just moments before his people spotted the Jedi standing ominously at the rim of the crater, lighting their sabers ominously. Jango didn’t listen to whatever the leader was saying; instead he slid down the snowdrift to stand by the Mandalorians’ sides. If they were going to die here, he would be by their sides. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you crouched behind a box aiming your slug rifle at the enemy.

“Mandalorians, open fire! Shoot the loudmouth first!”

The next several minutes saw him barking a combination of orders that seemed to be all for nothing as soldier after solder fell to the Jetii’kad. They tried to keep them at a distance, even tried switching to projectile weapons, but nothing would stop the onslaught. This is it. My leadership led us here. Some Mand’alor I am.

He watched in horror as Myles was sliced in half in midair by one of the Jedi. Vaguely, he was aware of the people you managed to pick off from your slightly-hidden spot, and knew that meant that the sheer number of Jetii on the field went down. But it wasn’t anywhere near enough. Using a rock clenched in his fist, Jango fought hand-to-hand with several of the bastards, getting too close for their lightsabers to be of much use, but still, there were more. As soon as the last Jedi he was fighting was prone, a hand clenching his face in an attempt to stem the bleeding nose brought on by the headbutt Jango delivered to it, a strangled scream halted his attack.

Jango knew that voice. His head whipped around to find you, unfortunately seeing the bodies of every one of his troopers littering the ground in the process.

You were gritting your teeth in a fierce snarl, helmet lost when a Jetii ripped it off, while that Jetii dragged you out of your hiding place by your hair. “Fuck you,” you spat despite the vulnerable position you were forced into: on your knees with some unseen Force holding your arms by your side.

“You two are Bonded,” the lead Jedi mused aloud. “The Force moves strongly between you.”

“Let her go,” Jango growled. He had no time for their metaphysical nonsense.

“Only if you surrender.”

“Leave, Jango,” you ordered, eyes filled with defiance. “Save yourself.”

He shook his head. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde,” was his only response even as he dropped to his knees in defeat.

You squeezed your eyes shut. You should have known he would never simply leave you. Neither of you had ever been any good at leaving the other behind. “You’ve killed us,” you breathed, letting your head drop forward as the Jetii used their precious Force to pull both of your weapons away from you. 

This fight was lost.

“You’ve killed us all,” Jango echoed. It would never be noticeable to others, but you could hear the grief in his voice. It’d been a few years since he took control, and those years had been great and full of prosperity, but you knew this would weigh on his soul for the rest of his life.

As far as the two of you knew, it was true. Between the pacifists and Death Watch--who you suspected was behind this whole situation--the True Mandalorians that used to make up the people you called ‘family’ were all that was left of the old way. According to the other two, Jango wasn’t even a Mandalorian. As if their shucking off the old ways weren’t enough, they had forgotten that the old beliefs held that anyone taken in by your people was a ‘real Mandalorian’. Gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la, after all. Yet they had fallen into the trap of blood purity that many other worlds coveted, the belief that one could only be a Mandalorian if they were born into it. An entire way of life, destroyed by people that swore to protect peace in the Galaxy.

What a joke, the thought ran through your head.

The Jetii that held you released his grip and allowed you to dart to Jango’s side. Clearly, the two of you weren’t threats to them as long as you were weaponless.

Instantly, your husband’s hand came up to cradle the back of your head to bring your forehead to his. Guilt ate at him for it, but the fact that you at least managed to survive brought him some relief. Mourning you wasn’t something he thought his spirit could take on top of everything else.

No matter how much you tried to fight it, you couldn’t stop the hot tears from carving burning trails down your cold face. Your hand came up to clench desperately at the high neck of his shirt. It took everything in your power to keep from sinking into a soul-deep despair at the realization that everyone you loved, everyone that made up your family apart from Jango, was gone forever. You allowed yourself to let out a keening wail at the thought, though, knowing that you’d never resurface if you kept all that sadness inside.

“Cyar'ika . . .” Jango murmured, eyes squeezing shut at the sound. It was something he’d heard only once before: when your parents died, and it was something he’d hoped never to hear again.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,” was the only thing you could gasp out. Your breathing was on the verge of hyperventilation, but you couldn’t seem to slow it down.

Off to the side, the Jedi watched the scene with forcibly blank stares. Many could feel both of your sorrow echoing out through the Force. Others could feel the ripples that extended out from their actions, changing the course of the future, perhaps not for the better. All realized that this was a terrible crime they had committed, one that was essentially a genocide against the old Mandalorian ways.

“What have we done?” the leader breathed, regret coloring his tone.

-----

Translations:

Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde - "We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors."—Mandalorian marriage vows

Gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la. - "Nobody cares who your father was, only the father you'll be."

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum - "I love you."

cyar'ika - darling, beloved, sweetheart

[reylostolemysoul]

Bendemption Evidence (gifs & commentary) pt 2b

Tl;dr - Poe and Rey’s interrogation scenes are direct mirrors of each other. The contrast allows us to see the beginning of Kylo’s redemption as part of the Reylo story. While with Poe, we’re meant to see Kylo as an unfeeling villain (like how Vader started), by the end we’re supposed to see him as a conflicted human being (like redeemed Vader).

There is a reason why they’re so similar yet opposite. (There’s also Vader-demption parallels here.)

This is split up into two parts - 2a is the capture, 2b is the interrogation. Part 2a -> x

A/N: This didn’t end up being as detailed as I wanted because I realized a lot of the pieces I could use in other, smaller comparisons. And this was already WAY out of control length-wise.

Onto the interrogation scene. 

First we have a fully dressed Kylo (who stays fully covered the entire time), interrogating a beaten-up Poe (who was not bloodied when he was taken away by the STs), in a rather dark room. Kylo speaks first, not really giving Poe a chance to wake up. Kylo is standing from the start, forcing Poe to stare up - a sign that Kylo has power over him. Kylo is dictating the interrogation from the very beginning, forcing Poe to respond to him. 

(not entirely sure why the gif quality is so shitty but I’m not spending any more time on it lol)

Contrast to a well-lit Rey and a Kylo that starts in the dark. He allows her to speak first, even if he is still being a smartass, allowing her to lead the encounter. He is sitting, putting Rey in a position of relative power even though she is restrained. 

He is literally crouching before her in the same way that he does before Snoke much later on. 

Then we have the reveal. He (and the filmmakers) needed to prove to Rey (and us) that he is not a creature. In fact, he is a very heavily made-up prince. (No seriously, he’s wearing a crap ton of make-up here. Not that AD isn’t already attractive but he’s made through make-up and lighting to be positively Disney-prince level attractive)

It’s parallel scene, where Vader asks Luke to remove his helmet, happens only after Vader has returned to the light side because of his love for Luke.

In other words, the removal of Vader’s helmet and return to humanity/the light happens as the culmination of his return to the light. Kylo, on the other hand, begins his re-rise to the light in the first film, at his first meeting with the one who will be his catalyst, with the removal of his helmet.

Vader asked for his helmet to be removed so that he may look upon Luke with his own eyes (before he dies). He needed to peel away the last layer between himself and his son. The last remaining protection between them.

Besides, there’s something different about seeing each other without barriers that is incredibly intimate. See reactions:

“Oh shit he’s... not a monster. Crap he’s attractive. This is not the way this was supposed to go!”

Anyway sticking with the mask stuff - for her and her alone, he bares his face (soul). She didn’t even ask. He just needed to prove to her that he’s not a monster. Why? Why would he need to do that? (Because he already felt some connection to her - which we see hints of earlier with “what girl?” and his personal desire to go bring her to him)

Don’t mind me as I get really unnecessarily close to you. Notice that his face is in the light - like more light than it looks like exists in that room - the whole time after he takes off his mask.

Now with Poe, we see his approach shrouded completely in darkness. He, again, remains a monster - a faceless, merciless being that remains completely in the shadows. [He also gets straight to business. Give me the map.]

[he then goes straight into pulling it out of his head.]

Meanwhile, over in Reylo land... we have Kylo first asking (or telling, but not forcibly taking) for info. And then gives Rey, his prisoner of war that he’s interrogating, unnecessary information about what he’s after. (Seriously, Kylo, no one asked.)

“You. A scavenger.” (You. Someone I should feel no affinity to. But why do I? Also why am I impressed by you?) He hits Rey’s deepest insecurity right on the head - that she’s a nobody. Wait, does that sound familiar?)

And then we go way closer than necessary to Rey’s head while he digs around for droid information searches through her fears and desires? And what she does... at night? [Yes. Creepy and problematic but it’s a way to connect these two characters quickly and more or less believably.]

[This scene too - she’s seen Ahch-to in dreams. The ocean. The island. Where she imagines she won’t be as lonely/hurting. Gee... the island where she has sex with ahem I mean marries ahem touches hands with Kylo.]

[like he disappointed me.]

As soon as she resists him, and he goes back to being the interrogator, he goes back to the shadows and is once again over her - in a position of power. 

Then we have the push and pull where Rey puts herself back on equal ground (relatively, realizing that yes she is still locked up). 

Now we’ve come to the end of the interrogation scene where she is inside of his head. She has found his deepest fears. He became emotionally vulnerable by removing his mask and she tore down the rest of his barriers to find the most human part of him. 

They now know each other’s deepest fears. They are deeply, emotionally connected whether they want to be or not (and they don’t). 

Finally we have Kylo’s face journey. 

The next time he goes to see her, his mask is back on. She got too close. (She doesn’t see the mask because she escapes but it has been reapplied nonetheless.) This becomes significant during TLJ when we see him physically and emotionally peeling back his layers to her. 

[darks-ink]

Disinterred CH.9

Chapter 9: But Now I Tell A Single Truth

“I really am sorry,” he reiterated, moving slightly closer to her, as if he wanted to console her. “For all it matters, I really do appreciate you coming to me to talk, instead of, I dunno. Trying to shoot the information out of me.”

(click here for author notes/previous chapters/fic summary/content warnings/mirror links to AO3 and FFnet)

It was a stupid idea. A profoundly, incredibly, unbelievably stupid idea.

But Valerie had always been a little too reckless. A little too quick to act. It was one of those traits that made her a good ghost hunter, to be able to act quickly and without hesitation.

Nevertheless, going out looking for Phantom was a stupid idea. Sure, the ghost always insisted that he was a good ghost, that he didn’t want to fight her. And the whole situation with the body that the police found in the woods was just too bizarre, had caught her attention even before the rumors that had captivated Casper High.

But, even if it likely involved ghosts, and even if Phantom knew anything about it… How likely was it that the ghost would talk to her about it?

Hell, the ghost only ever seemed to show up to fight other ghosts, and usually fled the moment he saw her. How was she even going to talk with him in the first place? Let alone bring up sketchy topics like this one? She could just imagine flying up to him while he was distracted, approaching him before going “hey, you know anything about that dead body in the woods?” Nah, he would probably just think that she was blaming him.

Which, to be fair, she probably would’ve. She still wasn’t sure about Phantom, about his goals and methods. But it seemed that the body predated Phantom’s stay in the city, and while he could have killed that person before anyone had ever seen him… It didn’t seem like his MO.

Besides, if Phantom was secretly a killer, well. He probably would’ve killed more people since then, no? Especially now, while the majority of Amity celebrated him as a hero who can do no wrong. Hell, he could probably blame it on another ghost and most people would believe him.

So no, Valerie didn’t think Phantom was responsible for this. But still, it likely involved ghosts, so Phantom might know more. At the very least, he might’ve gotten curious and spied on the police. He certainly could’ve done so more easily than Valerie, thanks to his innate ability to turn invisible.

Which had led to her current plan of finding Phantom and talking with him. Which was more easily said than done. Really, she should’ve realized so sooner, but, well. She wasn’t always the best at planning ahead.

Finally, however, a stroke of good luck happened upon her. Her ghostly scanner went off, alerting her to a fairly weak ghost nearby. And then, almost immediately, a second ghost appeared right next to the first. Valerie had already turned her hoverboard into the right direction before she checked the signatures of the ghosts. Her scanner told her what she had already expected: the Box Ghost and Phantom.

She sped over there, making it just in time to see Phantom cap his thermos and hook it on his belt. She forcibly relaxed her posture, to make herself look less threatening. And then she called over to him.

“Hey, Phantom!”

The ghost started, whirling around faster than humanly possible. When he saw her, he tensed up. Against her expectations, however, he made no move to leave. Instead, he quirked an eyebrow at her. “Hey Red… No weapons today?”

“Nah,” she answered, leaning back a little in the hopes of looking casual. If he saw her nerves and struck… Well, her new suit might respond to her thoughts, but summoning a weapon still takes time. “Actually, I was hoping that we could… talk?”

“Huh?” was his eloquent response, as Phantom dropped his tense posture again. His eyes had gone big, mouth hanging open slightly. Really, a picture-perfect depiction of bafflement. “Really? After 2 years of non-stop hunting, you want to talk? About what, exactly?”

“About that corpse the police found in the woods. I’m pretty sure it’s got something to do with ghosts, which means that you probably know more about it, no?”

Phantom tensed up again, slightly. He crossed his arms over his chest, eyes guarded. Uh oh, looks like she messed up somehow. Did he think she was blaming him?

“And you’re what, blaming me?” Yep, he definitely thought she was blaming him.

“No,” she said, voice straining as she tried to keep herself from snapping at him. “But you do know a lot about ghosts. More than me, at least, and probably more than the Fentons.”

“Oh,” was all he offered in return. His glare had softened slightly, more calculative and thoughtful now. “I guess you have a good point there. And you’re right.”

“About?” She was right! Her hunch was correct! She wasn’t quite sure what about, yet, but she would find out. For now, she would take this win.

“Well, about both of those things, I guess.” Phantom shrugged at her. “I do know more about ghosts than anyone else in this town. But I meant that you were right about suspecting a ghostly element.”

Valerie grinned, not that Phantom could see it while she was wearing her helmet. This whole thing was going way better than planned! “So, was a ghost responsible?”

“Uh, well,” Phantom spluttered, before snapping his mouth shut. He shifted around a little, and Valerie tensed up, expecting him to suddenly shoot off.

But then Phantom settled down again, raising his hand to scratch the back of his neck. “I kinda… can’t tell you?”

“What?” Valerie snapped. Was this ghost for real? “Why not?”

“I, uh. I told the police everything I knew about the situation, helped them out a little, you know? So I’m not allowed to talk about the uh, the whole thing.” He was still rubbing the back of his neck, a green blush creeping up. Oh lord, he was serious about this? Must be, because you can’t fake embarrassment like that, not even as a ghost.

“So… there’s nothing you can tell me?” She fought to keep the longing out of her voice, but couldn’t stop the frustration from seeping through instead. She was so close!

“No. Sorry, Red.” And he looked genuinely sorry, damn him! He dropped the hand again, giving her a sheepish smile instead. Unbelievable! The bastard always found a way to make her life hell, without even trying!

But she couldn’t deny that he had a point, if he wasn’t lying about this. And he didn’t seem to be, despite ghosts being prone to doing so.

So she sighed. “That’s fine, I guess. Can’t be helped.”

“I really am sorry,” he reiterated, moving slightly closer to her, as if he wanted to console her. “For all it matters, I really do appreciate you coming to me to talk, instead of, I dunno. Trying to shoot the information out of me.”

“For all the good it did me,” she grumbled, but she had to admit, Phantom had a point. It had been pretty nice to just… talk with him. And he really was right, he likely knew more about ghosts than she did. Knowledge she could use to hunt other ghosts, more dangerous ghosts.

But he was still a random element, a potential danger just lurking around. She couldn’t trust him.

“I’ll see you around, Phantom. Don’t cause any trouble.” She pointed at her eyes and then him, a movement clearly recognizable as the ‘I’m watching you’ gesture, despite the fact that she was wearing a helmet. And then she turned around and flew off.

So, she hadn’t learned everything that she had hoped to. But now she did know that ghosts were involved. And that, in turn, gave the rumors of Casper High just that bit of proof that they needed.

She didn’t want the rumors to be true, of course. Danny Fenton was a sweet boy. Hell, she had even dated him for a while!

But the rumors weren’t based on nothing. There was already a surprising amount of proof gathered, and, well. Valerie had the means of confirming the rumor. No matter how little she wanted it to be true.

And sure, there were things that didn’t make sense about it. After all, Danny’s parents were ghost hunters! Surely they couldn’t have a ghost for a son?

But, well. The Fentons aren’t great ghost hunters, at all. So she wouldn’t be surprised to learn that they had a ghost living under their roof without ever knowing.

So, no, there was nothing concrete to strike the rumor down. Nothing to prove it wrong. So Valerie had to figure it out herself. Find the evidence she needed.

Now she just had to wait until the right moment to strike.

And, that Monday, Valerie saw the opportunity she was waiting for. It was lunch, the hallways were deserted, and she had just returned from a ghost fight. She wasn’t expecting to run into anybody, let alone the guy that she was hoping to talk to.

But there he was, alone in the hallways. Danny Fenton, for once without Sam or Tucker by his side.

It was not only the perfect opportunity, but one that she wouldn’t get again. Sure, she wasn’t sure why Danny was alone in the corridors of the school, without his friends by his side, but it didn’t matter. She had more important questions to answer.

She pulled out a ghost scanner, an old one from her first suit. It might not be quite as good as her current one, but it wasn’t recognizable as belonging to the Red Huntress. And, while it might not be able to read ecto-signatures, she just needed to tell if Danny was a ghost or not.

Twisting the dial to the highest sensitivity, she saw a dot light up on the display. Located right where Danny was standing.

She straightened out her posture, squaring her shoulders in an attempt to make her look more confident than she felt. And then she stepped forward, approaching the boy she liked. The one person she still considered a close friend.

The boy that had probably been a ghost the whole time.

“Hey, Danny!”

The boy in question jerked, visibly startled by the sudden call. With a loud thump the backpack in his hands dropped to the floor, a metallic clang emitting from it.

When he turned around and saw Valerie, he relaxed again, a relieved grin on his face. “Oh, hey Val. Wasn’t, uh, expecting to see anyone here.”

“Yeah, same,” she admitted. The ghost scanner was pressed against her leg, its display hidden from the boy in front of her. “Kinda convenient, though. I kinda… needed to talk to you.”

“Oh?” God, he looked so innocent, with those big blue eyes. Even if he was a ghost, and he probably was, she couldn’t imagine him hurting anyone. “What about?”

Uh oh, she hadn’t thought of a good way to bring up this topic… Dammit, Valerie, she cursed herself, should’ve thought ahead for once. When will you learn?

“It’s… about those rumors going around.”

“Oh, those,” he grumbled, as he crouched to pick up his backpack. “Surely you don’t believe stupid rumors like that? I mean, can you imagine that? Me, a ghost?” He barked out a laugh, sharp and cutting.

Valerie hummed in response. “Kinda do, actually.”

Danny stiffened, still crouched. Then he turned to look at her, a frown on his face. “Really? Why?”

“Well,” she started, as she turned the ghost scanner in her hand so that Danny could see its display. “This is kinda convincing.”

The boy grabbed it out of her hand, and she let him. Danny looked it over for a moment. Then he sighed, shoulders drooping. “Guess I should’ve known that you would figure it out.”

“So… You are?” She paused, before speaking again. “A ghost, I mean?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, finally standing up again, backpack in his hands. “Since the start of freshman year.”

She knew already, of course. But to hear him admitting it… It made it more real, somehow. And it didn’t help that this was someone she knew.

Because, sure, ghosts are dead people. Everyone knows that. But you don’t really think about it, not as a ghost hunter. Then they’re just enemies, powerful beings from a different dimension.

Not this kid that you’ve known for years. Who still lives with his parents. Who went out of his way to befriend you, after you lost your old ‘friends’.

“So, now what?” Danny asked, and Valerie snapped back to reality.

“What do you mean?” she asked, eloquently. Smooth, Valerie, she chided herself.

Danny rolled his eyes, swinging his backpack around so it hung off of his shoulder. “What comes now? What are you going to do next?” He offered her the ghost scanner.

Valerie frowned at him, taking the gadget back. “You mean… because of our friendship? You’re worried that I won’t be friends anymore?”

He snorted. “Honestly, Val, you ending our friendship is one of the least scary things you could do to me.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, before her thoughts ground to a halt. Wait a minute, what did he mean by that? Because, sure, he was right. As a ghost hunter, she was always carrying around ghost hunting equipment, including weapons.

But he didn’t know that, did he?

He must’ve correctly read her expression, because he shrugged and offered her a sheepish grin. “Yes, I know about your ghost hunting. Have known pretty much from the start.”

“What- How?” she bit out. Her suit started buzzing in the back of her head, ready to form to protect her.

Danny, however, simply raised his hand and started rubbing the back of his neck. God, how could he still look so innocent? “You kinda ran into me and Sam in the park, when you first started. We recognized your voice.”

He was right. She remembered that. She had encountered Phantom in the park, playing with that stupid dog of his. She had chased him, but he had thrown her off, and instead she came across Danny and Sam kissing in the bushes. She couldn’t remember what, exactly, she had said to them. But she knew for a fact that she had spoken to them.

God dammit, how was she this much of an idiot? Spoiling her secret identity so easily, and not even knowing about it? Because if Danny and Sam both knew, then surely Tucker did as well.

She grunted, angrily, resisting the urge to punch the wall she was standing next to.

A cold hand landed on her shoulder, and instinct drove her to swing a punch into its direction.

Danny flinched back, but her fist swung clean through him. The feeling was bizarre, but one she recognized.

He had turned intangible. Like a ghost.

Because he was a ghost. God dammit, more proof she didn’t need. Didn’t want.

“Hey, calm down. Please?” Danny had his hands raised, as if trying to calm down a wild animal. The thought was kinda ironic to Valerie, that the ‘dangerous’ ghost was trying to calm down the ghost hunter.

She chuckled at the thought, and Danny offered her a hesitant grin in return.

“Sorry,” she finally managed, loosely folding her arms over each other. “I kinda… freaked out on you, didn’t I?”

“Eh,” he simply answered, shrugging. “That’s okay. Totally to be expected, considered the circumstances.” Then he looked her over, a somewhat guilty glint in his eyes. “Are you okay now?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I think so. I just… I tried so hard to keep it secret, y’know? And now I find out that you’ve know this whole time. You, and Sam and Tucker… And who knows who else too?”

“Ah.” He grimaced. “I know how much that sucks, yeah. But, if it makes you feel any better, we haven’t told anybody. Sam, Tucker, and I, that is. And I don’t think anybody else knows.” He winked at her. “They’re not too great at discovering really obvious secrets around here.”

She snorted, allowing herself to calm down. He was right. If the people of Amity Park couldn’t figure out that Danny was a ghost, then surely they didn’t know that she was the Red Huntress.

And as for Danny… Well, he might be a ghost, but he didn’t seem to be an evil one. Despite everyone always saying that every ghost was evil… She just couldn’t imagine it from Danny.

And yes, sure, he lied. To her, and to everybody else. But he kept her secret too, without her even knowing about it. Hell, he had even dated her, despite knowing that she was a ghost hunter.

No, Danny hadn’t done anything wrong. As overwhelming as this all was, as much as she needed time to process everything… She knew that much, at least.

“Danny...” she started, before trailing off. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Danny, thanks for telling me. I- It must’ve been hard to tell me.”

He made a face, but nodded. “Yeah, kinda. Which is why I put it off until I couldn’t deny it anymore.”

She hummed her agreement. “I’m… gonna need time to- to process this. To work through it.” He flinched, and she quickly added, “But I’m not upset! It’s just… a little much, you know?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I get it. I’ll leave you alone so you can think.” He turned around to walk away, but then stopped. He looked at her again. “But, Valerie. If you ever need to talk, or something… You know where to find me, yeah?”

And then he trotted off, and Valerie was left in the hallway alone with her thoughts.

[arse-blathanna]

1 or 18, with Donut and Caboose aaand Locus too he should get in on this

Thank you for the prompt! I hope you enjoy Locus being forcibly brought into the holiday spirit. It was a lot of fun to write :)

Locus stood by and just watched silently as Donut stood beside an ammo crate, which he’d balanced cans of spray paint on. The man had been chattering incessantly over the course of the night, and Locus hadn’t had anything to do and found Donut surprisingly less grating than he’d originally expected.

“I still don’t see the purpose to this.” Locus mumbled, watching as Donut stood up on the tips of his toes with a can of bright red paint in his hand. In front of him and powered down was Freckles, thankfully powered down. All that Locus really knew about the matter was that Donut had wanted to do something to the robot for… some reason.

When he’d been given an explanation, it had only been convoluted and hard to follow.

“We’re working on giving Caboose the best present he’s ever gotten!” Donut said, taking a step back to admire his work. “I know that it isn’t quite a stocking stuffer, but I know that Caboose is going to be in ecstasy.”

“I don’t think that’s what-” The comment dies on Locus’ tongue and he just shakes his head. He’d wanted some time with someone that would be a little less judgey than the others. The least that he could do was go ahead and humor him. “You think that he’ll like this?”

“Believe me,” Donut started, reaching over for an artfully cut stencil and placing it on top of Freckles where the red paint had already dried. “This is exactly the sort of holiday cheer we’ve been needing around here! You should try getting the spirit into you, yourself. I bet that Sarge has a sweater or two you could borrow-”

“That’s… fine.” Locus mumbled, feeling his cheeks heat a little at the suggestion. “I don’t really care for the holidays.”

“Aww, really?” Donut sounded disappointed as he began to spray the  forest green over the stencils. “But it’s the best time to spend your nights with a room full of guys!”

Once again, Locus’ protests died on his tongue.

Donut took a step back from Freckles, taking the wet stencil with him. Sure enough, painted on top of the robot was a sweater in red and green patterns. A part of Locus wondered if the choice in colors was specifically chosen to demoralized the Blues, but he dismissed it just as quickly.

“I really wish that Lopez would let me do this to him sometimes.” Donut said, sounding a little bit dejected. “I mean, could you imagine what he and I could do together?”

“I literally could not.”

“You just don’t understand the strength of his ties!” Donut responded, smiling widely. “We need to get on Caboose’s back though! He needs to see what Freckles is like now.”

Locus just sighed and reached for his helmet, putting it on and immediately beginning to fidget with the dials before requesting that Washington send Caboose along to them. It took a moment of convincing, but Wash gave his promise that he’d pass the message along.

For the time while the two of them stood by and waited, Locus did his best to drown out Donut’s chattering. He watched his teammate hang a curtain in front of the powered-down Freckles, and waited. When the time came, Locus expected that he would be tasked with turning Freckles back on.

Caboose came within the hour, apparently having just been released from lunch. He was grinning widely as ever, eyes light and happy.

“Hello Admiral Buttercrust and Locus.” Caboose greeted the two of them, offering two wrapped sandwiches. “I heard that you two didn’t get to have lunch so I decided to bring you lunch.”

“Thank you.” Locus mumbled, taking both of the sandwiches. On the other hand, Donut looked so excited that he was about to explode. “Donut wanted to…”

“Caboose!” Donut cut into the conversation before Locus could finish, and Locus mostly found himself feeling thankful for it. “I wanted to give you the best present you’re going to get all year!”

Caboose’s eyes lit up, focusing in on the curtain in a way that managed to seem as inattentive as it was excited. “You got me a present?” He asked, all but bouncing. “You really shouldn’t have.”

“Well yeah!” Donut responded, bouncing about as much as Caboose was. “You should open it right up!”

Caboose took a few steps forward and he reached out for the curtain, pulling it away and then letting out a loud, excited noise when he saw what was beneath.

“Oh. My. GOD!” Caboose shouted, rushing at the still freshly painted Freckles. “He has a holiday jumper!” Caboose reached out for the robot, wrapping his arms around it. Locus couldn’t help but to cringe a little bit. The paint was still wet, and Caboose was bound to head back to Blue base that night with his clothing permanently stained. “My life is complete!”

“Yeah!” Donut replied, pulling himself in towards Caboose for a hug, and Locus only became more aware of the wet paint. “We really wanted to get him into the holiday spirit!”

Caboose’s expression changed, his eyes going wide as he focused in on Locus. “Did you help dress Freckles up?”

“I-” Locus started.

“Yeah, he did most of the work!” Donut said, all but bouncing as he reached out for Locus so that he could pull him in. “I don’t usually like being a starfish, but for Locus-”

“Please.” Locus grumbled. “Don’t-”

Caboose threw himself at Locus, the wet paint getting onto Locus’ armor and Locus was already mourning for the evenings that were going to be lost trying to get it off. “Thank you so much Locus! I didn’t get you anything though, I am very sorry.”

Locus swallowed hard, not wanting to break the illusion of him having been actually involved in Freckles’ new look. “You’re welcome.” Locus mumbled, doing his best to pull away from Caboose but finding it rather difficult because the grip that Donut had on him was too strong “Please-”

Just like that Caboose pulled back, already whirling where he was standing so that he could face Freckles.

Behind Caboose’s back, Locus shot Donut a glare. He only received a wide smile in response, and that was all that he needed to realize that Donut, who Locus didn’t usually think capable of planning had planned this.

Locus softened. It was a kind gesture, truly. Regardless of whether or not he cared for the holidays, it was kind of Donut to try and bring him in.

That however, wasn’t likely to make up for the fact that Locus would be spending most of his night cleaning bright red and the wrong shade of green off of his armor.

[Want to send me a prompt? Send me a character, ship, or surprise me along with your prompt and I’ll be happy to fill it!] 

[kimamanitranslatesnovels]

Armoured Girl Monette c6

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Chapter 6: The Bodyguard Knight’s Strange Midnight Activities 

“Would you prefer to sleep on the floor in the great hall or in the wine cellar in the basement? You may also stay in a shed outside,” asks Monette.

Percival glares at Monette, his eyes so very sharp. In response, Monette sticks out her tongue in her helmet. Naturally, no one can see it as she’s encased in iron, but Percival furrows his eyebrows, sensing something. He has sharp instincts.

“This castle is big enough that it must have guest rooms.”

“Oh, were you not aware, Percival? Guest rooms are meant for guests.”

After Monette explains bluntly that they were not guests, Percival understands what she means. His eyebrows furrow further. But he probably realizes that they did barge in on her. All he does is glance at her with a dissatisfied expression. At his frustrated look, Monette does a little victory dance in her heart –

“Prince Alexis is tired. Please hurry up and take us to a guest room… a quiet room, where the floor won’t cave in, the bed won’t break, a bird won’t crash through the window, the night section of a tap-dancing club won’t hold their tap dancing competition on the floor above, and a surprise clown won’t accidentally enter the room because of the late night party held in the room next to us.”

“Have you ever stayed in a room where the bed broke, a bird crashed through the window, the night section of a tap-dancing club held their tap dancing competition on the floor above, and a surprise clown accidentally entered your room because of the late night party held in the room next to you?”

“… Don’t ask me that, it brings back bad memories.”

Apparently the examples he gave were just a small fraction of what they’ve gone through. Percival murmurs that they haven’t been able to sleep soundly for the past year.

The only thing Monette can sense from his voice is exhaustion. She does another little victory dance in her heart. Her imaginary self finishes up her dance by tracing with her feet the words ‘Serves you right!’ with a flourish.

Monette can’t help but cheer up at their sorry state. Feeling generous, she lets them stay in a quiet guest room where the floor is not caved in. It’s the room she lends to the very few people who stop by the old castle.

Naturally, the bed won’t break and the night section of a tap-dancing club won’t hold their tap dancing competition upstairs. A surprise clown won’t accidentally enter their room instead of the room next door where a party is being held. But well, as they are inside a forest, it’s possible that a bird may crash through the window.

“Prince Alexis, please use this room. Percival, you may use the room next door.”

“No, I’m fine in this room as well.”

“… Ah.”

“What’s the matter?”

“No, I mean, I understand. D – do not worry about it. I am fine with it so long as you wash the sheets yourselves afterwards.”

“Don’t show us consideration we don’t want. I’m a bodyguard, just a bodyguard.”

Monette is berated for messing around and so she sticks her tongue out in her helmet again. Alexis, looking tired at their back-and-forth, approaches the bed and verifies its make and softness.

“The bed legs seem sturdy – the bottom shouldn’t fall out.”

“Milord, what about the mattress and pillow?”

“Mm, looks like there’s no ticks.”

“How rude.”

“Milord, I’ll verify under the bed.”

“No, it’s fine. There isn’t a man with a scythe or a woman with bloodshot eyes hiding under the bed this time around.”

“I’m telling you that you don’t need to– this time around!? People like that have hidden under your bed before!?” cries Monette, “What in the world!? That’s scary!”

Apparently they ran about quite a bit before coming to Monette’s old castle. At a certain inn they stayed at during their journey, a man whose wife was having an affair determined where the man she was having an affair with stayed. Aiming to kill this man, he snuck into their room by mistake. Another time, a woman stalking a man who had disappeared snuck into their room, again by mistake. From this trauma, they began to always check under their beds.

At their story, Monette is dumbfounded. This is enough to make even Monette feel sorry for them rather than think that they deserve it.

And so, she takes out a piece of parchment and a pen from the pouch on her waist and smoothly draws a cute kitty-cat with an experienced hand. She places the charm on the bed’s headboard.

“What a dreadful creature you’ve drawn… oh I see, you’re telling us to dream of being chased by this creature…”

“It’s a cute kitty-cat!”

“Look, Prince Alexis, half of this creature’s face has caved in. No doubt she’s telling us to go get our faces burned off in our dreams.”

“It’s a cute winking kitty-cat! It’s a curse ward!”

“A curse ward?” Percival and Alexis parrot in unison.

Monette lets out a humph and looks away from them. Though well, the sound of her humph is absorbed by her thick helmet – all they see is her suddenly looking the other way with a grinding noise.

On a side note, this cute winking kitty-cat charm is most definitely a curse ward.

Though well, despite being called a curse ward it doesn’t work indefinitely – it works for at most a half-day. And if Monette sleeps or goes away, the effect lessens.

Even with magic, there’s nothing that works universally no matter where you may be in the world. This goes double-fold for those of the House of Idira, who had nothing to do with magic for so long.

As she doesn’t know anything about who cast the curse or how it works, the only thing she can do is ward off the disasters as they come.

“Still, it should protect you enough to let you sleep soundly tonight.”

At Monette’s explanation, Percival lets out a small sigh of admiration and some slight relief, while Alexis’ expression softens… and he falls onto the bed like he fell unconscious.

Immediately after, his breathing slows, seemingly sleeping. He must have been very tired – in both mind and body.

“As that’s the way it is, I would suggest that you sleep in the room next door, Percival.”

“No, I’ll stay here,” Percival declines firmly.

Monette shrugs, thinking him obstinate, then leaves the room.

Two hours later, after finishing some research she had been doing in her room, she puts on her armour on top of her dressing gown and heads to Alexis and Percival’s room again.

On knocking on the guest room’s door, after a while, the door slowly opens. Percival peeks his head out.

“My apologies for interrupting your fun.”

“… Hm? What’s the matter?”

“Er, that is… I found a stronger curse ward than the one I used originally, so I thought I would swap it out for the new one.”

“… I see. Alright, then I’m counting on you,” Percival responds slowly, opening the door.

Monette had thought that he would glare at her and hurl an insult or two – what a disappointment.

“This is kind of disconcerting,” murmurs Monette.

But she still enters the room. She hears Alexis’ steady breathing as he sleeps. It seems like he’s sleeping really deeply – he’ll definitely sleep soundly until morning. At this rate, Monette just hopes that he wakes up in the morning rather than after it.

“With this charm, Prince Alexis should be fine even if he sleeps until the afternoon… Percival? Are you listening?” Monette asks.

After a ten second interval, Percival, resting on the sofa, responds.

“Yeah, I’m listening.”

From his slow response and the tone of his voice, Monette realizes he hadn’t been listening in the slightest. She glares at him. What a rude person.

But the next moment, Monette’s eyes widen. Percival is gesturing for her to come over.

Gesturing her over after ignoring her – how terribly rude. But Monette still approaches him… only to have her arm – or to be more precise, her gauntlet – gripped tightly to pull her forcibly into a hug.

Monette’s body… or rather armour is pressed against his chest. His sturdy arms envelop her.

“Percival!?”

“Lady Monette…”

“W- What are you doing!?”

“Lady Monette, you’re such a good girl.”

“… Excuse me?”

“You even researched for us – Lady Monette, you’re really a kind and good girl.”

“U- um, Percival?”

He pats her helmet with his large hands. Monette is bewildered – she has no idea what’s going on.

His current behaviour is completely different from how he acted during the day. Not only is he saying positive things like “You’re kind,” and “Thank you,” he’s also embracing her and patting her helmet.

There’s no way she wouldn’t be shocked by this.

On a side note, although she’s being embraced, the iron armour doesn’t let any body heat through, so her heartbeat doesn’t increase in the slightest. Rather, the more Percival praises her, the colder Monette feels. From the slightly cold air, naturally.

“Lady Monette, thank you. You’re really a kind person.”

“Percival, please return to your senses!”

“You redid the charm for us too, huh? It really is a cute kitty-cat, you’re good at drawing.”

“What happened to you, Percival, are you going to die!? If you’re going to die, die somewhere else!” Monette screams.

But Percival continues to happily shower her compliments, ignoring her scream. He embraces her tightly and continues patting her on the helmet.

--

Fifteen minutes later.

“… It happens sometimes,” explains Percival. He’s sitting on the sofa, looking downwards, face covered with by hands. The air was thick around him.

“Sometimes?” asks Monette, standing right in front of him.

“… Like when I’m tired.”

“Please sleep.”

“No, but the prince-“

“Sleep. Right. Now.”

Percival murmurs “A bodyguard…”, but after glancing at Monette he obediently heads to the room next door.

No doubt after coming to his senses and calmly looking back at his actions – a brief moment of clarity for him - along with realizing his wrongdoings at the sight of Monette, he decided to obediently go to sleep.

… After seeing Monette covered in fingerprints from all his patting.

T/N:

Today’s fun phrase: 祝杯をあげる

Literal meaning: A celebratory salute done by firing guns into the air.

I translated this as ‘do a victory dance’ as I felt that would flow better while conveying the same ‘celebratory’ meaning. Later on, she mentions:

紙吹雪と共に垂れる幕にはファンシーな文字で『ざまぁみろ』と書かれている

This would be literally translated as “’Serves you right” is written in fancy script on the curtains that are closed as confetti flies about.” I presume that since it mentions closing curtains, this is just supposed to evoke the imagery that the celebratory salute concludes with a fancy declaration of Serves them right!

So I transposed the ‘fancy script’ to ‘with a flourish’ and had imaginary Monette finish her dance by tracing the words in question.

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[diniidjarin]

that reaper roomba au, part 1

i said i would do it and i am doing it, have the kinda angsty pre-crack bit of exposition and probably terribly ooc interactions

words: 1915, rating: gen, cw for implied body horror and a minor mention of substance abuse, set roughly a year or two after the Recall.

He recognizes the monkey. The ape had no place in the world. It lived in an old watchpoint, doing nothing in particular, sighing for a time when it meant something to be a hero.

The Reaper only sees an enemy. It confronted Winston once, to steal the data the ape had kept and collected over the years. Every Overwatch agent, and persons of interest. He can barely recall the mission. He wasn’t punished, so it probably ended in at least a partial success. He is rarely conscious of his actions, these days. He remembers what he did, sometimes. They’re ugly visions of violence, fueled by old rage he doesn’t really understand unless he feels it.

He fires his shotguns, the pain of the kickback barely registering after so many years. Reaper snarls.

stop drifting we have a mission

He snaps to attention. He has an objective. Sombra was intercepted by the guerrilla cell calling itself Overwatch. Funny, that name used to mean something. There are three Talon agents infiltrating the base, looking for the hacker. He is the diversion, engaging as many agents as possible. He doesn’t have orders to kill, not explicit ones anyway. The Reaper is bloodthirsty nonetheless.

They dissolve into smoke a split second before a rocket missile explodes where they stood. He laughs. It’s not his instinct to avoid projectiles, not anymore.

A shot rings out, and Pharah cries - Widowmaker is in position. One of the jet propulsors putters out and explodes on the ex-security chief’s back. She shouts for support as she tries to break the fall with the remaining engine, but she collapses in a heap on an outcropping of the cliff. She hangs on for a tense second, and topples off the narrow shelf, crashing gracelessly not twenty feet away from Reaper.

He approaches. Pharah’s helmet slides off her head, revealing a handsome face with a familiar tattoo. Half her face is drenched in blood and she looks up at him, dazed. He tilts his head.

“Amari,” he says, and it comes out as a snarl. He hates his voice. He hates… Amari?

sniper enemy traitor selfish selfish dead selfish amari enemy enemy enemy always takes his side -

He levels one of his guns at her, ready to pull the trigger, but suddenly golden light blinds him.

“Stay away!” someone shouts, and there she is, the child prodigy, the brilliant doctor, her staff aimed at Pharah - Wait, that’s the wrong eye! - she’s made improvements to the healing technology, he can see the gash on Pharah’s brow closing. Amari, That must be Fareeha, when did she grow so much?, she stands up and clenches her fists, but it’s not her that clocks him in the head, making him spin.

Angela Ziegler has fury written on her face as she unholsters a dinky pistol from her hip and empties a whole clip into him. He falls apart into smoke after the first three catch him in the shoulder, chest, and the mask, but she pursues him as he tries to ghost away. Winston is bellowing from afar, sprinting on all fours to shield his teammates from sniper fire. Mercy drops her weapon when the clip runs out, and as he regains physical form, the foot of her staff smashes into the owl skull protecting his head - once - twice - Ziegler twirls the Caduceus and smashes the functional end into his chin from below.

He sees stars. He’s forgotten how colorful they are.

too bright too much disgusting vile poison get away get away

Something in his chest is knocked free and he gasps. He’s breathing. The mask is gone and there’s the chilly evening breeze on his face. Ziegler screams. An unholy shriek answers her, and he’s heard that noise before, once. It latched onto his bones and hasn’t let go for seven years.

The night sky rushes to swallow him.

***

He comes to in a bed. A familiar scent surrounds him, but it takes a while to register. This is what a medbay smells like. He breathes in - breathes out - he hasn’t thought about breathing in so long - breathes in - he hasn’t breathed in so long -

“Gabriel?”

He’s hyperventilating, he’s dimly aware of it, and he fights through his body’s responses, trying hard to observe every detail of his surroundings at once. His muscles tense and pain blocks out his senses, and he tries to dissolve into smoke, but his body remains stubbornly flesh and bone. Some machinery starts beeping angrily, and he wants to hit it to make it stop, but his wrists are bound, and blind panic overtakes him. Nothing feels right, there are alarmed voices shouting all around him and he can’t see, can’t move, can’t think -

A wave of nausea washes over him and he loses consciousness again.

***

The next time he is awake, someone is snoring to his left. His vision is still blocked, but he manages to fight down the fear this elicits in him. He takes stock of what he knows about his situation.

Mercy knocked him out, and for some reason… the Reaper is gone.

He sets that thought aside for later deliberation.

He’s in a medbay, probably on the Gibraltar watchpoint he was attacking - how long ago? He has no way of telling. His body feels like heavy roadworks machinery drove over him, but the last reliable point of reference for what it should feel like is well and truly outdated. He can smell a faint trace of decay among the scent of sterilisers, medication, and cleaning products. There’s also a hint of cigar smoke that’s painfully familiar.

There’s a lull in the snoring, and a creak of the chair the person must be sitting in.

“Y’all’dn’t’ve, …” comes a sleepy murmur, followed by a loud snore. Gabriel Reyes is on the verge of tears, or maybe hysterical laughter. Jesse McCree came to watch him and fell asleep.

He tentatively moves a hand, and tries not to feel bitter about the restraints still firmly clasped around his wrists. He can feel IV tubes trailing along both his forearms, and bandages covering most of his body. He feels sluggish, probably firmly under the influence of some or other sedative being pumped into him.

The room he’s in must be small, if the soundscape is anything to go by. They are probably holding him in a containment cell, but why would Jesse be in the room with him? Perhaps they fitted some nook of the base with prison bars. His mind briefly flashes to all the reasons they would want to keep him imprisoned, and has to forcibly bring the layout of the watchpoint to the forefront of his mind lest chaotic shreds of the past five years overwhelm him. He goes over his memories of the sprawling facility instead.

“Hola, Gabe.”

He startles, and curses colorfully. “Sombra?”

“The one and only,” and he can hear her wicked grin in her tone. He wonders if she’s camouflaged, and his mind supplies the image of a vanishing Cheshire Cat, with its too many teeth and keen eyes disappearing just a little while after all the rest. He huffs a small laugh.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“Better than you,” she answers.

“This tells me absolutely nothing and you know it,” he says. She laughs quietly.

“I’m not bed-bound, literally or figuratively, and not under surveillance, if that puts your poor heart to rest.”

He grunts, appeased. “What’s my status?”

“Really, Gabe? Ever the soldier,” she teases. “No one knows how, but when the good doctor knocked you out, she beat the whole evil wraith thing out of you. It was really fun to watch. Anyway, you dropped to the ground, and this cloud of black smoke with your mask attached just… slunk away somewhere. You’re in a repurposed medbay room. The cowboy is sleeping off an entire bottle of whiskey, and yeah, he snuck into your holding cell. He gave a very dramatic monologue at you earlier. I can show you a recording when Ziegler unwraps your eyes later.”

“What’s wrong with my eyes?”

Sombra hesitates for a heartbeat before answering. “I didn’t read through the files too closely. Ziegler spent, like, thirty hours operating on you right after your scuffle. She thinks you’re gonna need some implant in your right eye, but the left should work normally once you recover. As for the rest, well, Blackwatch has always had a knack for refurbishing ridiculously large portions of human body, no?”

He groans. “What does that mean,” he demands, trying to fight the unease.

“Well,” Sombra starts, and by the tone of her voice, he knows he’s in for a gruesome report. “Half of your organs are suspended halfway through the process of rotting, but most of your muscles, the nervous system, and skin are mending. I’m making air quotes, because, according to Doc Z, they don’t work like any organism known to her. A lucky mix of SEP and being possessed by an eldritch abomination, I suppose? By the way, you never shared that the Hot Topic take on Lovecraft wasn’t one hundred percent you. I wouldn’t live down people thinking that about me, Gabrielito.”

“You had color-changing pieces of neon plastic implanted on the skin of your head purely for the aesthetic, and you’re judging me?” Gabriel finds himself genuinely amused. He laughs softly, then louder. He cannot stop. “Hot Topic Lovecraft, oh god.”

Don’t think about the rest of what she said.

He keeps laughing until he starts coughing. He hears Sombra’s nails clink on glass, and her jacket rustle when she leans in closer. “I’m giving you water, here’s a straw,” she says, and a small plastic tube pokes him in the chin.

“Isn’t it going to leak out through a hole in my back or something?” he manages.

“At least it’ll be funny,” she answers. He grunts, not voicing his dissent.

The water feels divine in his mouth and throat, and he lets out a small noise after the first gulp. Sombra holds his head back when he tries to chase the half-emptied glass.

“Lay back,” she says. “You’ll be sick...er if you drink too much at once.”

“I don’t think I can feel any worse than this,” he grumbles.

“Have you never learned that things can always get worse?” Sombra counters. She sounds gentler than usual, and it instantly sours Gabriel’s mood.

“Should I even be awake?” he asks, hating the tightness in his throat. He swallows and winces.

“Nah,” says Sombra, voice back to its usual, sassy tone. “You burn through the sedatives faster than Mercy thought. Want me to crank them up for you?”

He hesitates. He hates the thought of being prone and unaware, but he doesn’t want to lie awake, nauseous and in pain, until someone comes to prod at him in the morning, asking questions and demanding… something for certain. Sombra picks up on his train of thought faster than he can come to a decision.

“For what it’s worth, I believe you’re in no danger here, and I’ll stick around. I can wake you up before anyone comes to see you.”

“Will you be safe?”

Sombra just chuckles.

“Sombra!”

“Shh,” she puts a finger on his mouth. “Don’t wake the sleeping cowboy. I’ll be fine.”

He just sighs. He feels so tired. “Okay. Knock me out.”

He can hear Sombra clicking, and he is pulled under. The last thought in his mind is about what might have happened with the Reaper.

[ruffsficstuffplace]

The Keeper of the Grove (Part 74)

Note: This chapter was codenamed “Winter Has Come.”

Alarms were blaring all over the Valley, millions of Fae all running through the streets, shuttering up and barricading homes and businesses; hauling their valuables, animals, and loved ones to the Tree of Life; or fortifying the streets and bridges, setting up turrets, shields, and elementals, be they for traps or to bolster their forces.

The watchers flew all around on the backs of giant birds, calling out to each other and warning civilians, airlifting to the young, the elderly, the disabled, and the sick, to safety, or providing air-support and visibility should worst comes to worst and the communication crystal arrays went down.

Civilian use of the Tubes was restricted, the coordinators working overtime to get as many watchers all over the Bastion as possible, with Ruby and Weiss as priority passengers; they stopped for a brief kiss, before off they went, to the Watcher’s Roost and the Heart of the Maker’s Forge.

It was still noisy as ever in that underground foundry, only instead of work songs, it was panicked shouting and barking orders. Makers slaved over the assembly lines triple-time, hurrying to produce as many munitions as possible, emergency supplies, and materials for repairing and rebuilding the Bastion.

Weiss ran straight through the organized chaos and to the Thumper, not even aware of the sweltering heat for the pounding of her heart, the sweat already pouring down her skin. She skirted around a large congregation of Fae all desperately praying to the statue of Talos, or lining up to get their slips for their last wills and testaments.

There was already a bullet waiting for her this time, watchers waving their arms and calling out for her to hurry.

She got into it along with a handful of other weavers, before down they went, into Abner’s laboratory.

The normally quiet and peaceful halls were already swarming with makers, weavers, and watchers; Weiss was rushed through the crowded halls as they all helped bring Abner’s golems to life, armed themselves with salvaged and hybridized technology from the human territories, or secured and protected the most vulnerable and valuable of Abner’s equipment, supplies, and experiments.

She finally ended up in the observation room for giant prison cell, like the Raucous Room, except the walls all glowed with the ethereal gold-white of 100% pure etherite. She had to shield her eyes until Abner’s spider limbs handed her a protective mask and water.

Weiss put the mask on, and began to drink. “What the hell is all this?” she asked in-between much-needed sips.

“How we’re planning to save your sister AND the Valley at the same time!” Abner said as he manned several controls at once. “This, my dear, is the ultimate in prisoner confinement: a nigh indestructible cell that will be impossible to escape from, physically or magically, and will happily absorb the very worst Winter can do with the Mk. IV, and then some!”

“Are we going to just keep her here?!”

“Up until you can convince her not to annihilate us all, at least!” Abner replied. “We CAN forcibly remove her from the Shepherd Suit Mk. IV, but as I’m sure you suspect, it will be MUCH more difficult, risky, and costly than if you can convince her to surrender.”

Weiss nodded. “Can we get someone to get something from Keeper’s Hollow?”

“Well, it’d have to be EXTREMELY important, I’ll tell you that!”

Under the mask, Weiss smiled. “Trust me, it will...”

Meanwhile, at the Watcher’s Roost, Ruby was in full-gear and being lead straight to the heat-map, the entrance to the Valley flashing bright red with Winter’s armoured face atop it. Things had quieted down as most of the watchers had already deployed, but the mood was tense and grim, the senior watchers all huddled over refining their strategies and monitoring the progress of the others out in the field.

Ruby waved at Qrow, he grabbed her hand and pulled her straight up to the chair specially reserved for her. <What’s the plan?> she asked as she stood on the seat, leaning on the edge of the heat-map for support.

<The plan is that you stay here while Qrow engages Winter,> Glynda replied via holo.

Ruby’s eyes widened. <What?! She’s going to vaporize him! I’m the only one that can stand a chance against her!>

<We know,> Qrow replied, <which is why the plan isn’t to fight her, it’s for me to distract her long enough for us to set up a trap.>

The heat-map disappeared, to show a schematic of a barren crater somewhere far away from the Bastion or the rest of the Valley’s settlements, with live-feeds of weavers hurriedly making a giant teleportation circle in the very center of it, infusing it with magic before they as much as they possibly could to hide the signs that they had ever been there.

They explained the rest of the plan such as Abner’s cell, Weiss being there to calm her down, and worst comes to worst, how they were going to forcibly remove Winter from her suit, hopefully without killing her from the trauma of the spine-jack’s removal.

<And what if it doesn’t work, and she gets away and kills you...?> Ruby asked.

Qrow pulled out several teleportation charms. <Then that’s where these come in. They’re connected to my vital signs—I get fried, all your gear comes straight back to you, and hopefully you can get her on the second try.>

Ruby reluctantly pulled her mask and cloak off, then handed them to Qrow. <Why are you doing this, Uncle Qrow...?>

Qrow smiled. <Killing your girlfriend’s older sister isn’t exactly the best way to win her over,> he said before he put on the mask.

Ruby’s eyes moistened. <I love you, Uncle Qrow,> she said as she wrapped her arms around his waist, buried her face in his chest.

Qrow grunted as he felt her horns digging into his chest, before he hugged her back, burying them back into the old, familiar scars under his clothes. <I love you too, Ruby… I’ll try not to get horribly murdered out there.>

<You better not!> Ruby cried as she pulled away.

Qrow put on her cloak, a pair of fake reindeer horns and ears, before Ruby handed him the Keeper’s scythe. He hurried on the Roost’s wellspring with a group of watchers; it was all going fine until he suddenly felt horrible pain shoot up the arm holding the scythe.

<AGH!> he cried, clutching it with his other hand, trying to get it stop it from shaking.

<Qrow! What’s wrong?> one of the watchers barked as their mender ran up to him.

Qrow grunted, shook his head. <I’m fine, let’s go!>

The others didn’t look like they believed him, but it wasn’t as if they had much of a choice.

“Please...” Qrow whispered to the scythe as the weavers prepared him for the trip and fortified him with last-minute spells. “Let me protect her… just one last time, I swear!”

He felt pain shoot up his arm again. He stiffened, bracing himself for more agony, before it faded away into nothing. “Thanks…” he whispered into the scythe. “… And I promise I’ll mean it this time.”

The weavers cleared him to go, and Qrow jumped into the wellspring.

Winter’s ride to the Valley was quiet, taking a rover to conserve her suit’s power, the two specially modified Tinmen she was bringing with her currently shut down to the same. She passed the time reviewing her suit’s newly added and modified systems and weapons, optimized for the unique conditions of the Viridian Valley, and of course, her main target.

At the very back were all of the crates of plushies she had brought from the Plushie Palace less than a month ago, sans Eluna for obvious reasons.

“ETA at five minutes,” the rover’s AI said.

Winter shut off the holos in her HUD. “You can come out now,” she said as she spun her chair around to the back. “I won’t report you—I’ve got better things to do with my time.”

One of the crates opened, and out climbed an AFA soldier in full combat armour, a sword in its sheath attached to his belt alongside the one sidearm and his comm-crystal. His foot caught on the edge, and he went ungracefully tumbling out onto his back.

Winter didn’t comment. “What’s your rank and name, soldier?”

“Ah—Private Jaune Arc, ma’am...” he muttered, debating if he should stand at attention, or take off his helmet then stand at attention.

“What are you doing here, Arc?” Winter asked. “You know where this mission is taking place, what it’s about, who we’re fighting, right?”

Jaune passed. “Uh… were those rhetorical questions, ma’am, or did you want me to actually answer them...?”

“Take a guess, Arc,” Winter replied as she spun her chair back around, looking out the windows of the rover to see the twin mountains of the Viridian Valley looming ever closer.

Jaune sighed heavily as he walked up to the seat next to her, sitting down with his head hung. “I’m a disgrace to my family name, ma’am. I’m the latest in the line of the Arc family, and every single generation, at least of one us was a soldier or a war hero of some kind—except me.

“I’m just a failure...”

“You had to have passed the entrance exam, didn’t you?”

Jaune paused. “… I faked my records, ma’am.”

Silence.

“… That’s a very serious crime, Arc. The test is there for a reason—it proves you’re capable of surviving out there, of protecting others when the time comes. What if someone has to rely on you, and you both find your skills lacking?”

Jaune groaned. “I know! … That’s why I stowed away. If I come back, I can live with myself and happily take my dishonorable discharge! If I don’t… well, at least I’m sure I make pretty good bait.”

“Heroes don’t throw themselves into battle hoping to die an honourable death, Arc,” Winter said. “They do so to protect others, to fight for what they believe is right, to stand up when no one else will. The act of sacrificing yourself for others is not inherently good—sometimes, it’s just an unneeded, avoidable casualty that causes more problems than it solves.

“I’m not going to use as bait, Arc! You’re a human being, not a worm.”

Jaune raised his head up and smiled a little. “Then maybe I can hold her off for a while with this...” He said as he pulled out the sword on his belt, revealed the sheath to be a shield, too.

“That looks like a First Settler relic...” Winter muttered as she examined the intricate detailing on the metal and the hilt.

“It’s because it is,” Jaune replied. “It’s been passed down to every Arc who goes into the AFA as a good luck charm—even when we reinvented guns, it’s helped us all survive.”

“I’m surprised you’re not worried it’ll break in combat!’

“Pfft! These can withstand pretty much anything.”

“What is it made of…?”

“That I… really don’t know. I’d say it was etherite but it doesn’t glow. It is pretty light, though—well, for an ancient sword and shield, at least.”

“ETA at less than a minute.”

Jaune sheepishly looked at Winter. “So does this mean you still want me on this mission, or should I just stay in the rover?”

Winter stood up and put a hand on his shoulder. “Get ready, Arc,” she said as walked past to power up the Tinmen.

Jaune nodded, and held his head up high. “Yes ma’am!”

The rover began to slow down as it reached the entrance of the Valley, managing bumps and rough terrain until it was simply faster to walk.

As the Tinmen booted up, Jaune noticed the markedly different designs of them, like they were just power cores on legs. “What’s up with those Tinmen, ma’am?” he asked as the inside of the rover was filled with the bluish-purple colour of Candela’s wellspring.

“They’re more power banks for my suit than fighters,” Winter replied as she headed to the hatch. “Watch yourself, Arc—if one of those things blow, you do not want to be anywhere near it!”

Jaune gulped. “I will, ma’am...”

The rover stopped, and they all stepped out, the Tinmen first. To make up for the complete lack of offensive systems, the androids were producing a powerful repulsion barrier all around them; even several feet away, Jaune could feel himself being pushed away.

“That is a LOT of power...” he muttered as he pulled out his sword and shield, held it close to him.

“We’re going to need it,” Winter muttered as she readied her weapons systems.

At his request, Jaune took point, the Tinmen between them, and Winter taking up the back.

She was fine with the arrangement, up until she found him screaming from, wary of, and stopping for every last noise and suspicious movement, becoming more frequent and dramatic the thicker the foliage and the trees around them got.

Winter sighed. “Halt!”

Jaune screamed, jumped into the air, and spun around, his shield and sword raised. He couldn’t see her exasperated face as he sheepishly lowered his weapons, but he could just tell.

“Arc: retreat back to the rover, and stay there until I return, or go back to Manor Schnee evening the next day if I don’t. The emergency rations will be more than enough for you.”

“Sorry, ma’am, but I’d rather not… I’d feel a lot safer with you and your lasers around. Besides, the Keeper might come for me and kill me while you’re away...”

“Assuming you don’t end up getting killed by all the other horrifying shit that lurks here in the Valley...” Qrow said from just behind him.

Jaune froze.

Winter raised one hand. “Duck!”

Jaune dropped to the floor.

A huge chunk of the tree behind him exploded into ash.

“Missed me!” Qrow cried from a tree branch above them.

Winter gritted her teeth, activated her wings, and rocketed off after him.

The Tinmen rushed on after her, Jaune got up and clumsily scrambled on after them.

“Wait!” he called out, before he tripped on a root and fell on his face. He picked himself up, spat out the leaves in his mouth, and continued running, a little more carefully this time. “AGENT SCHNEE! WAIT FOR ME!”

Animals big and small ran, branches and leaves exploded, the night was lit with flashes of blue laser-fire. Qrow continued to evade her, using his own natural speed and the cloak’s teleportation runes to just barely avoid getting vaporized. Winter’s helmet sensors were going crazy like the cameras at Manor Schnee, crackling and spiking with magic and error messages, not to mention the sensation of a plasma knife cutting into her brain and twisting all about…

… But she wasn’t letting that stop her.

All the while, everyone at the Roost, the Tree of Life, and Abner’s laboratory watched through spy cameras, or figures on the maps as they got closer and closer to the trap.

The Tinmen thundered through the forest with ease, their hoof-feet and reverse-jointed legs managing any terrain they found themselves in, if they didn’t come crashing through the bushes and vines, crunching roots underfoot.

Jaune panted for breath as he followed the path of destruction they were leaving, tripping and falling into a ditch that the Tinmen easily jumped over.

Qrow burst out of the trees, and into the crater; he teleported down to the ground, just before a giant laser almost scorched him into non-existence.

Winter shot out of the missing chunk of forest soon after, her shoulder-mounted cannons smoking as she flew up into the air. “STAY STILL AND LET ME KILL YOU, DAMN IT!” she cried as she fired a barrage of missiles, explosive orbs raining down on the crater.

“HOW ABOUT I DON’T?!” Qrow yelled back as he flashed in and out of existence, the magical rose petals he left exploding into blinding crimson clouds.

Winter screamed in frustration, blind firing into the fog, before she flew in.

“It’s working!” Abner cried, laughing. “It’s working!”

The Tinmen reached the edge of the crater, stopped as they detected the fighting going, redirected power to their shields and linked them together. Jaune smacked dab into their expanded and reinforced barrier, getting knocked flat on his back.

Inside the fog, Winter had realized her mistake, her optics completely failing from the overload of magic in the air. “Do you think this is going to work?!” she screamed as she prepared to fly back out.

“Yes~” Qrow said from just beside her.

Winter fired a blast there.

“Missed me!” Qrow said from her other side.

Winter fired another shot in that direction.

“Nope!” he said from in front of her.

Winter cried out as she thrust her hands forward, energy blades extending from her wrists.

“Jeeze, did they lower the standards for Queensguard or something…?” he said from behind her.

Winter whirled around with her blades, Qrow just barely avoided getting slashed.

“I don’t need to see you to kill you, you know!” she cried.

“Well might want to open your eyes, honey, and see what you’ve found yourself in.”

The red mist cleared. Winter looked down, finally noticed the glowing lines of power radiating from all around her, the circle in the center that she was standing smack dab in the center of.

Tendrils of magic erupted around her, wrapping around her body, and her HUD spitting out all manner of errors and warnings as she began to float up into the air.

Qrow casually strode in front of her, casually took off the mask, and smiled.

Winter opened her visor to glare at him. “You mother-fucker…!” she spat.

“You’ll thank me later, Ice Queen!” Qrow chirped as he casually saluted her goodybe.

Jaune’s shield came flying in from the side, slipping onto space between the ground and her feet. The tendrils were chopped off as the shield began to spin round and round like crazy on top of circle as the metal disrupted and absorbed the magic.

“AGENT SCHNEE!” Jaune cried as he threw himself at her.

Winter flew off from the circle, Jaune taking his place; the shield flew up and rejoined its owner, the tendrils wrapping all around him, instead.

Everyone watched in horror as they pulled Jaune through a rip in reality, and spat him out into the center of Abner’s etherite containment unit.

All was quiet everywhere in the Bastion.

“Well...” Abner muttered. “WE’RE FUCKED!”