#i have to trust myself for once and go for it

[bluewxrld07]

Pins and Needles

Lando X Bff!Fewtrell!Reader

Summary: Y/N doesn't know where she and Lando stand anymore. Their once-tight friendship soon started to tear at the seams.

Warning(s): just pure angst, Lando being toxic (sorry y'all), making out, Charles Leclerc incoming, depression, lack of self-worth

A/N : I can't help myself y'all ok 🥲 This one is gonna hurt, I'm sorry but also not sorry. Enjoy 🙂 (Written and inspired by Nessa Barrett's song Pins and Needles)

Hand on the stove, I barely feel it

And when I let go, I'm already healing

This was not how it was supposed to go.

How it was supposed to wind up.

Y/N didn't even know how she got herself into this situation.

Deep down, she knew exactly how she got herself into this situation, she just didn't want to admit to it.

It started when one drunk night at the club in Monaco led to her becoming tangled up in her best friend's sheets, whispering sweet nothings to one another. The sly touches as the sun crept through the blackout curtains the next morning.

That was when their situation bloomed. Things had become messier between Lando and Y/N.

Little did Y/N realize just how deep she had fallen for the man she had known almost her entire life. He was comfortable. Familiar. Trustworthy.

At the start.

Things at the beginning were smooth. Nothing but absolute lust, addiction, and hunger. It rose and rose, some moments almot becoming reckless.

They couldn't keep their hands off one another. From sneaking around the paddock, to the club bathrooms, to the bedroom next door to Max's. It became reckless. Animals in heat. The craving was insatiable.

The pair didn't know if the sneaking around made them this way, or the fact that it was supposed to be a forbidden relationship. Max would've had Lando's head. He'd have six feet under the ground.

She didn't mean to fall more in love with the boy. She thought it would be harmless. Her feelings would subside. Not do the complete opposite and skyrocket. The way he had begun to treat their little situationship as if they were together is what got her the most.

He made her feel like she was the only one.

Till he slowly became more sloppy. Bailing out on plans more often, leaving her high and dry while saying something came up. The distance became clearer. It was the late-night visits that were only making a daily appearance. No talking, just becoming tangled in the bedsheets.

Their friendship had begun to fade out, only turning into meaningless sex. At least that's what she believed.

She never understood why. What had she done for him to pull away slowly? What was she missing?

Y/N couldn't tell anyone, as she didn't have anyone she told about it. Not trusting a single soul to keep it quiet if things got tricky. Especially not when Max had no idea of what was happening behind closed doors.

When he began to ask why her mood had become more glum, as if she had almost faded. She just used the excuse of lack of sleep, or was just having one of those days.

He didn't question it, only gave her a lingering look, then didn't push further. He knew better.

It wasn't long till she found out why. Why Lando pulled away from her, let their friendship fade out, as well as their late night hookups.

They say your name, I don't even hear it

You dug your own grave, and nobody's grieving

The articles all read and show him with a new girl, a blonde model and actress. She was pretty. His type, too. He looked happy, a genuine smile on his lips as he looked at her.

That's when she noticed the way her chest tightened, crashed in on itself.

He had been seeing this girl, Magui, she thinks her name was, without saying a thing to her. She thought they were close enough that he would've been honest. He has never lied to her. In all the years she had known him, it wasn't something he did.

She remembered when she found out, she sat there trying to figure out what to say to him. Her first message sounded angry. Hurt, betrayed, lost, and confused.

Instead, she clicked the power button off, thinking it was best to not say a word. Instead, she let it fade away. Let him fade away.

There had been a day Y/N was at her brother's, sitting on the barstool while he cooked food with Pietra.

"Is she nice?" she asks, hinting at Lando's new girl. Max looked at her with an unsure gaze, shrugging his shoulders.

"From what I can tell, yeah," he answers. "Still a bit skeptical about her, though. About her past, mainly. Everything is still unclear about what happened between her and Luisna. Lando won't really talk about it."

She nods, deciding not to push any further, picking at the food on her plate.

"Have you heard from him lately?" Pietra asks this time. "I haven't seen you two around one another lately. Usually it's hard to pull you both away from the other," she tries to joke. Max looked back at his sister with just as curious of a look.

"You two haven't been talking?" he asks, Y/N just shrugs.

"Not really," she admits. "Always says something's come up. It's fine, I'm not gonna push it. He's happy."

Max looks at her with a little bit of shock on his face. "You two have been close for years. Closer than him and me, why would he just push you away?"

Y/N knew the real answer to it, but she couldn't give that away. As she knew Max would lose his shit if he knew. Lando would be lucky to leave the brawl with a head on his shoulders if Max found out.

So instead, the girl just shrugs. "Don't know. Just assumed maybe he doesn't want to make things look weird with his new girl. Probably doesn't want her to think anything else."

Max scoffs playfully at that, pouring his eggs onto his own plate. "Trust me, if there was more, I would've known. She wouldn't have had anything to worry about. He'd have a lot more to deal with if that were the case."

She just stays silent, Pietra sensing the awkwardness in the room, deciding to change the subject.

Shot my heart with Novacane

Ice-cold, cut off my blood flow

It had turned into hearing from Lando every other week, and maybe seeing him when he came to help with collabs for Quadrant. When the pair would be streaming with the other streamers, he wouldn't so much as acknowledge her in the chat.

It would be short answers if anything.

Her chest burned every time she made eye contact with him, the gazes between the pair always having something between them. Something she couldn't quite explain.

It wasn't until she had been dragged out to a race day with Max and P, that she could feel the need to hide away in a corner for the rest of her life.

She kept her distance whenever Lando would come around, the boy not missing the way she would excuse herself when he came by.

He should've known.

He caused the tension between them. He pulled back when he only wanted to get closer to her.

He found another girl while in denial of how deeply in love he was with his homeboy's sister, and his best friend. Magui was his way out. His escape from his reality. Even if it wasn't the right way.

He had to let Y/N go, even if it meant he couldn't be in her life anymore.

At least that's what he told himself.

You think you're important,, boy, I've got bad news

You're mean and you're boring, they'll all forget you

Y/N had been standing over by the motorhomes, sipping on the coffee in her hand, when she felt someone bump into her back. The sip had turned into a mess, dripping down onto her white tube top she wore on the hot day.

She turned around to meet the eyes of a familiar Monégasque man, who looked at her in horror. "Shit, Y/N I am so sorry," he nervously chuckles, his eyes seeing the new stain on her top. "I should've been more careful. I was so caught up in the conversation I-"

"Charles," she giggles, making him look at her. "It's okay. At least it wasn't a hot coffee, yeah?"

He snorts while rubbing the back of his neck. "Now that I definitely would've never heard the end of."

She chuckles. "You still won't hear the end of this one," she jokes, making him give her a genuine smile before chuckling back at her. He motions to her shirt.

"At least lemme help get you a new top? I can't bear the thought of you having to be stuck with explaining how the stain came about."

"Ahhh I see you want to protect your perfect image, I suppose?" she tuts playfully, making him widen his eyes.

"What? No I meant like it would probably be annoying having to say the story a thousand times, or you could get weird looks from people, or-"

"Oh my goodness, Charles! I'm joking," she laughs while putting her hands on his shoulders. She watches him visibly relax at her touch and her words, rubbing his hand over his face.

"Sorry, I just," he chuckles breathlessly. "You make me nervous, is all."

She raises her brows, a small smirk on her lips. "Oh, I do now?"

He rolls his eyes with a groan. "I'm never gonna hear the end of this."

She hums. "I didn't know I made the famous Ferrari driver nervous," she jokes while crossing her arms and giving him a knowing look.

His eyes flicker down from her eyes to her lips for a split second, then he smiles at her. "A little."

"A little?"

He purses his lips. "Okay a bit more than a little."

She laughs at his little confession, Charles pinching her waist as he pulls her with him. "You can give me shit later," he laughs. "But right now let's go get you changed into something that doesn't have a stain on it."

She lets him drag her along to the Ferrari paddock, in search of Rebecca and Carlos, knowing the WAG always had a backup set of clothing on her when need be.

Once Charles had found them, he explained the situation, watching as Rebecca lit up and happily said she'd lend a helpful hand.

Y/N followed the girl, keeping up the small talk as they made their way to the Ferrari motorhome, where Rebecca had a cute top waiting for Y/N.

She knew she wouldn't hear the end of it, the color of the top being a bright Ferrari red. It was a one-shoulder cropped tank top, the color sitting beautifully on her skin. Rebecca gave her a low whistle, causing Y/N to chuckle and roll her eyes.

"Red looks so good on you," she says, making Y/N shrug. Rebecca gives her a knowing look, but says nothing as the pair made their way back to the paddock.

Charles did a double take when she returned, his eyes taking in the red top that adorned her skin.

He smiled as he walked up to her. "Red is your color I think," he says, making her roll her eyes.

"Rebecca said the same thing," she answers, watching him nod. "She's never wrong."

Y/N thanks Rebecca one more time, alongside a hug. "Think about it," Rebecca whispers into the girl's ear before pulling away with a wink.

Charles then walks Y/N back over to the McLaren paddock where her brother and P sat. Max frowned at his sister. "I've been looking for you. Where did you run off to?" his eyes then dart to the new top she was wearing, then back to Charles. He gave Max a look.

"I bumped into her and thought I could help her get a new top," he explains. "I felt bad. So blame me for stealing her. Sorry, mate."

Max chuckles while nodding. "Of course it's a red top too," he jokes, Charles ears turning bright red, he puts his hands up in defense.

"Blame Rebecca for that one," he sputters, Max doing a once-over with a smug smirk while nodding slowly. "Uh-huh," Max trails off. "Well, thank you for helping her out," he says, a smug smirk only getting wider.

Charles nods curtly, before facing Y/N with a small smile, and squeezes her side. "Good seeing you, cherie," he mutters to her, kissing her cheek before he leaves her. Y/N realizing her side feeling slightly colder than it did when his hand was there.

She turns to watch him leave and head down the stairs, biting her lip without realizing it. Her head turns back to face her brother and Pietra.

The pair is staring at her with smug and knowing smiles. Max leans back in his seat, crossing his arms and clearing his throat.

Y/N squints her eyes at them. "What?" Watching her brother nod at her.

"Someone has a crush."

She scoffs at her brother. "You're reading into things," she chuckles while shaking her head.

Pietra laughs. "Oh, honey, no. You two were staring at each other like you want to-"

"Don't even say what you're going to say," Max whines, covering his face. "I don't need to hear that."

Y/N just laughs, pointing at Pietra. "You're wrong on top of that."

Pietra rolls her eyes with a smirk, and before she can argue further, Lando is seen walking up to the group, making Y/N want to fade away.

Lando sees her, only doing a double-take when he sees the color of her shirt, also realizing that this was indeed not the color she was wearing earlier. He slowly points at her shirt, Max chuckles.

"Dear old Ferrari man has a crush on my sister," Max admits, then points at her. "She's crushing on him as well."

"Maxwell!" Y/N hisses, watching him crack up. She doesn't miss the way Lando's facial expression drops, something unreadable in his expression.

"What d'you mean?" he asks slowly. Y/N groans while hiding her face.

"What he means," Pietra starts. "Charles spilled coffee on her and helped her get a new shirt. And apparently that was his chance to get her in red."

Lando's eyes snapped down to Pietra, Max just sitting there in a fit of giggles as his sister kicks his shin.

"He was just being helpful," Y/N grumbles. "Besides, Rebecca was the one who gave it to me. Not Charles."

Max looks back at her. "Sure, we know that," he says between laughs. "But the eye fucking you two were doing before he left said more than that. Especially that little kiss move-"

"He kissed you?" Lando cuts in, his tone sharp and stern. Max and Pietra look at him with certain looks. His head and eyes only focused on Y/N in that moment, who was now shifting on her feet with her arms crossed.

"It was just on the cheek," she rolls her eyes before glaring at Max. "Stop making it sound like he laid me out on the table or something," she hisses, making Lando choke on his spit while Max gagged.

"That's vile, do not ever say that again," he points at his sister with a disgusted look. "Second, I'm only saying it because I think you two would be good together."

That makes her eyes widen in shock, watching him put his hands up in defense.

"Say what now? I thought you said no racers."

He hums with a nod before pointing out to Lando. "Yeah, I said that mainly for that one," he says, missing how his mate clenched his jaw. "Charles, on the other hand? I hope it does happen. He's one of the good ones."

Y/N coughs awkwardly, not missing the way Lando scoffed at his best friend's words, mumbling something under his breath as he crossed his arms.

"Can we just change the subject, please? I'm not crushing on Charles, and I'm not going to date him."

Max gives her a knowing look before turning his gaze towards Lando. He frowns. "You good, mate?" he asks, watching as Lando snaps his gaze at Max. He nods curtly.

"Just don't care to hear about her sex life, you muppet. Charles is a player and only wants what he can't have," he admits, not missing the way Y/N glared straight to the side of his face. "Anyways, we're getting ready to start. I was gonna walk you lots to the club level."

Max nods before taking Pietra's hand to guide her. Lando kept his pace next to Y/N's, the girl not missing how his hand would brush against hers every so often.

She could see the gears turning in his head, clenching his jaw every so often, as if he was preventing himself from saying or doing something he might regret. Max and Pietra were further ahead of them, happily making their way to the balcony in the club level of the paddock, overlooking the racetrack.

"He can't give you what I can," the brit says next to her, causing her to snap her gaze at him with a frown. She scoffs.

"That's awfully daft, coming from you," she shoots back. "You ghosted me, remember? You don't have a say in my actions."

"Oh, so you are seeing Leclerc huh?"

She scoffs. "Go check on your girlfriend, Norris. The one you dropped me for."

He glares at her. "Y/N-"

"End of discussion, Lando."

She walks away, a part of her wanting him to grab her and pull her back. Show her she was his. Even if it was behind closed doors. The other part of her was happy he didn't. She wanted him to see that he couldn't have her. He missed the opportunity.

Don't call me your ex, 'cause I never met you

She kept close to her brother and P the entire race, zoning out the entire time the race went on.

Her mind didn't know what to think.

She missed Lando. She really did.

The other part of her though, was also pulling towards Charles.

Y/N couldn't tell if it was just because of how Lando reacted, or because of how she felt a new feeling whenever Charles was near her.

Or how she caught her stare lingering longer on Charles as he took P2. Or how his eyes found hers in the crowd, staring back at her, his smile becoming wider when he saw she was staring first.

It's all pins and needles, babe

I feel nothing for you, nothing for you

Now, here she stood, in the VIP section of the Monaco club after Lando placed P1 at his home race.

She had a drink in her hand, pretty sure the glass could break under her grip. Her eyes did not leave the way his hands and body moved with the blonde on the dancefloor.

At this point she couldn't tell if she was jealous, or pissed off. Or both.

She watched as his hands moved along her body, how his lips never left her body as they danced. He looked like a wet dream.

"You hold onto that glass any tighter, it's gonna shatter and cut up that pretty hand," a familiar French accent says next to her. Her eyes snap out of the daze, turning to see Charles taking the spot next to her.

He nods at her slowly. "You alright, cherie?" he asks her, making her laugh to herself before spinning a finger around the rim of her glass.

"Honestly, I don't know," she admits, looking back at his confused frown. "Can I be honest?"

"Always."

She sighs. "I had been seeing this guy. We weren't anything exclusive, but at the same time, it felt like it. Then out of nowhere, he just stops. No explanation, no excuses, nothing. Just drops me like I'm nothing," she explains, letting a bitter chuckle leave her lips.

"Then I found out it's because he had another girl. I don't even know how long. It was just out of the blue, and I guess I shouldn't have been as upset as I was about it. But I can't help it."

Charles takes in every word she's saying, nodding and humming at the appropriate times.

"It burns my chest seeing them, seeing him, act like I never even mattered," she admits. "But then, I began to realize something else. There's this other guy. I didn't even realize I felt good around him. Like I could relax around his presence. Forget about why I was so hurt about the other guy," she explains, not even realizing how easy it had become to open up to Charles.

The way his expression showed no judgment. No sense of uneasiness as she spoke. Just a genuine expression that showed he was listening to her.

"And part of me wanted this guy I was seeing," she says more to herself. "But a bigger part of me really wants this guy that makes me feel seen. Heard."

Charles nods at her, taking a sip of his drink. "You alright if I give you my advice?" he asks cautiously.

She nods. "Always," she copies his words, making him grin at her.

He points at Lando. "He's an idiot for letting you go," he admits, watching her face contort to confusion, and then to shock before shaking her head.

"I didn't- How did-"

He laughs at her, stepping closer. "It's not hard to see. You two weren't as slick as you thought," he admits, Y/N feeling her face begin to heat up.

"I'm sorry," she admits with a sigh, looking down at her now-empty glass. "I didn't mean to sound like that. I just- I didn't have anyone I trusted to talk to."

"And I'm just easier to talk to? Someone you trust?" he asks her, leaning his elbow on the bar behind them, a knowing smirk on his lips. She snaps her head to him.

As she was about to say something, he stood up straight, walked to stand in front of her, and took the glass from her fingers. She doesn't miss the way his fingers brush hers, goosebumps rising on her skin. He places the glass on the mahogany behind them, his eyes lowering to her own. She gulps as she watches his smirk widen just slightly, while he places both hands on the bar behind her, caging her in. His face was dangerously close to hers, the Monégasque not missing the way her breaths came out shaky.

"As for this other guy," he starts, his tone lower. Darker. "I think he's very worth your time. He wouldn't make you feel like Lando did. He'd take care of you. Treat you right. Show you how a woman like you should be worshipped."

Y/N feels her pulse quicken. "Besides," he mutters, bringing his lips closer to her own. "If you're choosing between two people, choose the second. Because if you really did like the first option, you wouldn't have fallen for the second."

That got Y/N's insides churning, knowing deep down Charles was right. He was so right.

He chuckled darkly as he watched his chest rising and falling quicker after he said that, placing his lips closer to her ear as he placed a light kiss against the lobe. "The second guy also just really wants to be selfish," he admits.

Y/N smiles slowly at his words, letting herself indulge slowly with Charles. She lets out a gasp as she feels his lips planting feather-light kisses from her jawline, down to her neck and her collarbone.

She finally trails her hands up his button-up, slipping underneath the half-open shirt, slithering to rest on the bare skin of his back just before it meets the crook of his neck. His head leaves her neck, bringing his head closer to her own.

"So this other guy," she says breathlessly. "You think he'd worship me, huh? Show me how worth it I am?"

He hums with a nod, kissing the corner of her lips. Y/N found herself craving more, her body aching for his own against hers. Skin to skin.

"He'd do more than just that," he chuckles against her jaw. "He'd take his time with you. Show you exactly how a woman like you should be appreciated. Till you're shaking."

Y/N lets out a breathless moan at that, one of her hands finding his hair. "Spoil you to death. Treat you like the absolute Queen you are."

Charles brings his head back up to really look at her. Y/N staring back into his own eyes, flicking down to his lips for a split second. "Charles," she says softly, earning a hum from him. "Kiss me please."

That's all it took for Charles to take her jaw in his hands, placing a passionate and messy kiss on her lips. Their teeth clashed, tongues messily battling against one another as she kissed him with such need. Such obsession.

The more they kissed, the more they craved one another. Charles let his hands fall from her jaw to her hips, pulling her lower body into his.

Lando was long forgotten in Y/N's mind. He was the last thing she was thinking of; she could forget his name if Charles kept up the way he touched and kissed her.

Little did she realize, Lando was now frozen in his spot on the floor. His eyes darkened. He glared as he watched the girl his heart yearned for, and the guy who was going to be six feet under if looks could kill.

He could tell it wasn't just for show either. She really wanted Charles. Charles wanted her.

He only knew that because of how she was kissing Charles, it was the way she used to kiss him. His heart hurt, chest tightened. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene across the club.

Magui was long forgotten in that moment, Lando realizing he lost the girl he wanted most.

He should've known.

Y/N whines at the loss of Charles' lips when he pulls back, the man looking down at her blown-out state. Her lips swollen as her eyes look up at him with a knowing look.

"What do you say, cherie?" he says slowly, watching her slowly smile.

"I think I'm open to giving this other guy a chance," she jokes, watching him bite his lip to hide the big ear to ear smile that was forming.

He leaned down to kiss her once more, before breaking away and lacing a hand with hers.

Charles began to lead her away from the bar, his gaze locking with Lando's as they passed by.

He didn't miss the way Lando slightly mouthed a 'what the fuck' at his friend, a glare in his direction. Charles held his head up high, smirking at Lando, giving him a sly little wink before he turned his attention to Y/N.

Lando saw the way her eyes looked up at Charles, like she finally felt happy. At ease in his presence. Like she had forgotten Lando existed in that moment. She probably did, and that hit him like a truck.

He watched as Charles placed his other hand on her lower back to help keep her next to him as they pushed through the crowd, making sure not to lose her as they headed out.

Lando didn't even excuse himself from Magui, earning a shocked squeak from her as she watched him rush away from the dancefloor.

Lando scurried past everyone and towards the front entry, pushing past the people who were trying to congratulate him as he passed by.

He didn't give a single fuck about any of them, his mind only thinking about her.

Please. Don't go home with him

His mind begged, wishing she could read minds. Read his.

The way he knew he was already way too late. Months too late.

Once he had gotten outside, he had seen Charles shutting her door before turning to thank the valet workers. His eyes flicked twice over to Lando's state. Trying his best to hide the winning smirk as he saw the disheveled state of the British man.

Charles looked back at his car towards her window, before looking back at Lando. He walked up to him, Lando's gaze hardening as he got closer.

"Don't," Lando warns him.

Warning him to not cross this line. To not take the girl that Charles knew he was so in love with, not take her home. He didn't like this feeling. He hated it.

That's when he realized what it was.

Lando Norris was jealous. He was jealous beyond words.

He never gets jealous.

Not until now.

Charles chuckles at him, patting his shoulder. "Lando," he chuckles. "You ruined your chances. Give her the chance to finally be happy, hm?"

He shook his head. "You can't give her what I can give her."

Charles bites his lower lip before speaking. "That's the point," he begins. "I wouldn't treat her like shit, like you did. I'll give her everything she deserves, and more. Not give her nothing, like you gave her."

That made Lando feel like he had been shot in the chest.

“I won’t ever let her feel or think she’s only good for one thing,” Charles adds, giving Lando a knowing look. Lando’s face drops slightly, then frowns. “I’m going to show her she’s worth more than she could ever imagine. Because she is.” Charles admits, a genuine look in his eyes.

Lando doesn’t know what to say in that moment. He felt defeated.

Because part of him knew (all of him knew) that Charles was good for her. He wouldn’t treat her anything lower than the Goddess she was.

Lando just hated that it wasn’t him.

Charles pats him on the shoulder. "Goodnight, mate," he says before walking away and getting into the car. Lando watched as the pair drove off into the night. Something was burning inside Lando's chest. Burned in his eyes.

Tears.

Jealousy.

Need.

Y/N smiled to herself as Charles and she drove along the roads, his hand gently on her thigh while hers rested on top of his.

Her phone buzzed, not once, not twice, but three times. This caused her to pick it up and look down at it. She thought she would feel something, anything, as she read the messages.

Please, don't go with him. I'm so in love with you

Come back to me, I'll be better. It hurts to see you not with me. Hurts to see you happy with him. I'll prove myself. I'll do better, for you

It's always been you

Y/N takes a deep breath as she begins to type with her free hand.

Your time ran out. A long time ago, Lando. It's time I let myself be happy.

Goodbye Lando

With that, she turned her phone off and looked over at Charles. His eyes gazed back at her, nothing but admiration as he stared at her.

"You okay?" he asks softly. She takes a moment before nodding.

"Yeah," she hums. "I am now."

[finallyouttathatdress]

I was born and raised in Florida and moved to Texas in 2020 (horrible decision, I know, trust me). I. HATE. Heat. People from northern climates always say, oh, but you must be used to it since you grew up in that climate. WRONG! I spend as little time outside as possible. I probably wouldn't go outside at all once temp gets above 80 if my pup didn't need to go for walks. I would die if it weren't for ac.

Anyone walking around dating 90 isn't hot. Fuck you. Yes, it is. Is it as hot as 100? 110? No, obviously not, but it's still fucking hot. The only time you'll ever hear me say anything even REMOTELY similar to this is when the temperature starts getting into the 80s regularly, I walk outside and go "oh my god, it's so fucking hot" then I fucking slap myself and remind myself... it's going to get so much worse.

That being said...I do want to throttle anyone complaining about 60-70s being too hot. I would literally kill to have that be the worst heat I had to deal with.

Hey man, ahead of this heatwave I'm gonna go ahead and rip the veil off of something for you:

The reason American Southerners have the luxury of saying that 90 ain't that bad and it's not unbearable until it's 100 is 1) prolonged exposure to high temperatures over multiple decades 2) our mindset for these living conditions.

You don't have number 1, and you can't just acquire it, so I need you to adopt number 2 immediately. How do you live like a Southerner in the heat?

Don't be a hero.

Stay inside. Buy a box fan, put it next to a bucket of ice, and wrap your arms around it like a lover. Do not leave the shade under any circumstances. If a dude makes fun of you for getting out of the sun, don't get mad, just think of a funnier insult to call him while you flip him off and go stand under a tree.

Southerners love nothing more than to exaggerate and lie to each other. Like I think we got off on the wrong foot when you walked in on us saying things like "It was only 110, I didn't even take my damn jacket off" when really, last week it was 95 at 10 PM and we were on the bed buck nekkid in front of the fan moaning incoherently and praying to die. So yeah, we can take extreme heat. We also want you to think we can take ludicrous heat. You must learn to talk shit and then be a hypocrite and a coward in your actions, because this will serve you best.

It sounds like I am joking but I cannot express to you how much I am not. Do not fuck with Mother Nature, because that bitch will kill you. Take every opportunity to lower your body temperature and drink water, because that is what all of us in hot climates are doing all the time, and that is why we are not dead, even when it seems like we should be.

(And yeah, we do go through like two and a half ugly weeks in April every year where everyone wants to absolutely just goddamn drop dead because none of us have our heat tolerance back, but we must go to work anyway, which must be a crime. And yes, when it gets below 70 we really all do short circuit and cover ourselves in seven jackets, except for Shorts Guy.)

[thewertsearch]

GG: Do you remember around when we first started talking? […] GG: And you claimed you were the one making my pumpkins disappear? [...] GG: You later proceeded to try to prove to me that what you were saying was true. GG: But none of your attempts thereafter would ever bear any fruit, pardon the pun. […] GG: And I think this unfortunately began a pattern of mistrust.

The signal was manually blocked by CrockerCorp, no doubt - and that was all it took to send Jane down a path to mistrust, suspicion and isolation.

It's easy, when you have her in the palm of your hand.

TG: i cant just always appearify stuff from you any time i want TG: i can only take stuff im "allowed" 2 which is pmuch random TG: like stuff that by takin id be messing up the time line cause that stuff is supposed to be there and serve some funciton it hasnt served yet […] TG: but pumpins 4 some reason are a lil easier to take i dunno why TG: like they are specifically and arbitrorily unhinged from spacetime

There's simply no force in this reality greater than the memetic effect of a long-running Hussie Joke.

TG: i so gonked your gaurds jane GG: … GG: Did you gank them when my gourd was down?

Fuck, Jane, that was a bona-fide dad joke!

This girl's filling a lot of roles that this cast has been sorely missing up until now. Out of all the Alpha Kids, she's the most unlike her B1 counterpart - which makes her so interesting to read. She might not be an Heir of Breath, but she is a breath of fresh air.

TG: im psyched about u wanting to believe me and all TG: but part of me still feels like i should prove it TG: like i tried to once TG: it was just frustratin i mean im a sciestist i should be able 2 prove my shit TG: like TG: subject my claims to the fuckin madrigogs GG: Um… GG: Madrigogs? TG: *mad rigors

Roxy, for her part, seems to be as much of a scientist as Mom was implied to be. Mad science ladies are possibly my favourite archetype ever; thus, Roxy's speedrun to S-Tier continues.

Anyway, it looks like Roxy's about to try and prove... something. It's hard to say what would completely sway Jane, though - after all, the girl's already seen a First Guardian and a robot bunny. If they couldn't convince her that something funny was going on, what will?

TG: i mean trust between friends is sweet and everything but i dont know if i wanta be the repipient of like a butt load of pity believins

Bit of a sore point, I gather. She's already sick of this shit with Jake.

GG: It's not about pity! GG: It's more like a gesture I'm trying to make. GG: Or maybe that's not quite right. GG: It has more to do with setting things right for myself than making it up to you. GG: Does that make sense? TG: ………….

I agree with Roxy's silence, here, because something about Jane's attitude is rubbing me me the wrong way. Like, I can't put my finger on why, exactly, but something about this self-centered attitude to remorse is a little...

...ominous.

[mensahbots]

"i wanted to ask what your relationship to her is": murderbot's ever-evolving view of its relationship with mensah

My clients—ex-clients? New owners?—were here, only everybody looked different in their normal clothes. Dr. Mensah stepped close, looking up at me. “Are you all right?” [...] “If people won’t be shooting at me what will I be doing?” Maybe I could be her bodyguard. “I think you can learn to do anything you want.”

ex-client?, new owner?, potential bodyguard-ee who wants me to do anything i want.

I don’t know what I want. I said that at some point, I think. But it isn’t that, it’s that I don’t want anyone to tell me what I want, or to make decisions for me. That’s why I left you, Dr. Mensah, my favorite human. By the time you get this I’ll be leaving Corporation Rim. Out of inventory and out of sight.

my favorite human. (but don't tell me what i want or make decisions for me. (i know you said you weren't, but... please don't try.))

What I did know was that Abene really had loved Miki. That hurt in all kinds of ways. Miki could never be my friend, but it had been her friend, and more importantly, she had been its friend. Her gut reaction in a moment of crisis was to tell Miki to save itself. [a mere four sentences later] I hate caring about stuff. But apparently once you start, you can’t just stop. I wasn’t going to just send the geo pod data to Dr. Mensah. I was taking it to her personally. I was going back.

if abene would do that for miki, maybe mensah really could love me...

maybe mensah really was my friend...

maybe mensah would tell me to save myself. (spoiler warning: she would.)

One reason I was nervous was because if this went well and I wasn’t shot to pieces, I would be seeing Mensah again. On the way to RaviHyral, ART had said that PreservationAux was my crew. [...] But sitting here in a hotel lobby, watching a biozone and running every not-a-SecUnit behavioral code I had, the fantasy fell apart. The hard reality was that I didn’t know what Mensah was to me.

maybe i want her to be my crew....

(or maybe she's something else entirely.)

If it had been one of the others, I would have figured out a different approach. For Pin-Lee, I just said, “Hi.” [...] She forced her tense shoulders to relax, and she didn’t make the mistake of looking around. She planted a smile on her face and said through gritted teeth, “What—How—” “I came to find our friend,” I said.

(she's my friend, too.)

“It kept me company without…” “Without making you interact?” she suggested. That she understood even that much made me melt. I hate that this happens, it makes me feel vulnerable. Maybe that was why I had been nervous about meeting Mensah again, and not all the other dumb reasons I had come up with. I hadn’t been afraid that she wasn’t my friend, I had been afraid that she was, and what it did to me.

she is my friend (she understands me (she changes me)).

What I was mostly thinking was that there wasn’t going to be one dead SecUnit on this embarkation floor, there were going to be four. Sending SecUnits after me was one thing. But they sent SecUnits after my client. No one gets to walk away from that.

she's my client.

She wasn’t afraid of me. And it hit me that I didn’t want that to change. She had just been through a traumatic experience, and I was making it worse. Something was overwhelming me, and it wasn’t the familiar wave of not-caring. Fine, I sent. I sounded sulky, because I was sulky. I hate emotions.

i care about her.

Dr. Mensah would never believe that. My accidents were spectacular and usually involved me losing a big chunk of my organic tissue or something; she knew I could stop a human without hurting them, without even leaving a bruise, that was my stupid job. She would never trust me again. She would never stand close enough to touch (but without touching, because touching is gross) and just trust me. Or maybe she would, but it wouldn’t be the same.

i need her to trust me.

Amena was furious. “That’s my second mother’s … friend,” she said through gritted teeth. “And her security … person.” [...] She thought I wouldn’t get the domestic animal reference. I said, “Wow, that was rude. Especially considering that I’m your second mother’s”—I made ironic quote marks—“‘friend.’"

i'm her "friend."

“Do you love my second mother? Thiago thinks so.” I should have known this was going to turn into an interrogation. I said, “Not the way he thinks.” Her face went all dubious. “I don’t think you know what he thinks.” He doesn’t know what I think, either, so there. I was distracted converting a dumpload of raw log info from a visual image back into searchable data and if I got the fields wrong it was going to be a giant mess. I probably should have just stopped talking, but I didn’t want to hurt Amena’s feelings. I said, “Your second mother is…” Client wasn’t the right word, not anymore. “My teammate.” I could see I had to clarify. It was really hard finding the right words. “Before your second mother, I had never been an actual member of a team before. Just an…” Amena finished, “An appliance for a team.” That was it. “Yes.” “I see. Thank you for letting me ask you questions.”

she's my teammate.

(i love her... not in the human way.)

I knew Farai knew all that, and I knew she was asking for an answer that was closer to objective reality. And wow, I did not have that answer. I said, “I’m her SecUnit.” (Yes, that’s still in the buffer.) She lifted her brows. “And that means?” Backed into yet another conversational corner, I fell back on honesty. “I don’t know. I wish I knew.” She smiled. “Thank you.”

i'm her secunit.

(i don't know what that means.)

(i wish i knew.)

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM DATE EVERYTHING (PART 2) *  assorted dialogue from the 2025 video game, specifically the volt and eddie romance, adjust as necessary

trust me, i would never forget such a striking face.

why is so hard for you to believe i actually like spending time with you?

care to dance?

it's far too easy to lose oneself with you.

don't think i'm done with you yet, [name].

i imagine it would be quite difficult to focus on anything with you around.

you have quite the reputation. i'm eager to explore it for myself.

it's a pleasure to officially make your acquaintance.

i kinda feel underdressed.

trust me, you look stunning.

as long as you're going to be there, i'm up for anything.

careful there. i might just take you up on that.

are you always this oblivious?

are you always this much of an asshole?

cute. now get out, i've got work to do.

there's no time, all right? there's too much to do.

have i ever failed you before?

i'm serious, [name]. if it gets worse, you come get me.

how delightful. you're back.

you do learn quickly, don't you.

i'll have to find some more challenging lessons for you.

as much as i'm enjoying our conversation, there are a few more things i must attend to.

allow me to show you to your seat.

oh for fuck's sake, what do you want?

you actually care about this, don't you?

can i finish my drink in peace?

look, you'd better rest up if you want to be useful tomorrow.

you can't get rid of me that easily.

you'll probably change your mind once you realize what you signed up for.

i'm fine. you can put me down now.

that was unbelievably careless. what were you trying to do exactly?

just pay more attention.

i suddenly feel awkward and self-conscious.

you've done a decent job the last couple of days.

now you can get back to... whatever it is you do when you're not invading my space.

i already told you. big crowds aren't really my thing.

i do better on my own. trust me. i'll only slow you down.

be honest, you enjoyed yourself so much last time you just couldn't stay away. am i right?

i can't go back to being alone.

i can't lose you.

it's my job to protect you, even from yourself.

just do it before i change my mind.

i'd almost forgotten what this felt like.

isn't there something you wanted to talk about first?

[tofics]

Everyone Wants a Piece of Pedro Pascal

To his friends and family, he is Pepelo, Pipi, Pedders, and Peds. Years ago, on a movie set, someone started calling him Pepsi, which he loved.

Over lunch in London, Pascal is a grand raconteur who tells stories with his hands and uses funny voices and loves to swear and drink cocktails and murder a cheese plate. He doesn’t take himself too seriously. At the same time, he’ll press right up against the sad and raw and confusing parts of being alive. His insides are on his outsides. He cries easily. He laughs loudly.

The Fantastic Four’s Vanessa Kirby—who plays Sue Storm to Pascal’s stretchy genius, Reed Richards—tells me that her friend’s allure is “his immense vulnerability”: “He doesn’t have much armor, so he shows himself to you straight away, and you trust that person because he’s revealing himself to you in this very brave way.”

When I first meet Pascal, it’s in the lobby of his swanky hotel. I go in for a handshake, and he wraps me in a hug instead. On our way outside we pass a bar, and he offers to make me a cocktail, then whisks me out the front door into a waiting black BMW. “Baby, I’m taking you on a date!” he says. Pascal is happiest and most comfortable when the people around him are happy and comfortable, and because he is naturally so curious and warm, there’s a sense of immediate safety with him. You’re grateful to be in his light.

We sit down at a Palestinian restaurant in Notting Hill. Pascal says he picked the restaurant because the last time he was here he admired the booth and the afternoon light, and thought it would be fun for us to share small plates of food. But he’s posted more than once on Instagram about what’s unfolding in Gaza, so I suspect he’s also making a statement of support by doing an interview here. He removes his leather jacket and his green sweatshirt, stripping down to a simple white T-shirt, and lays his thick-frame glasses on the table.

Pascal needed to make peace with “crossing this bullshit milestone of 50,” so he decided to lean in headlong, planning a multiday celebration he compares to a wedding. On April 2 he hosted an intimate dinner for family and friends at a London restaurant whose martini he knew to be a winner. All three of his siblings were there, along with his father. Lux surprised him with a slideshow of pictures of Pascal and his friends and family over the years—even Gretta!—that finished to the song “Corazón de Melón.” Three separate times he tries to explain how moved he was by his sister’s gift without crying. “I’m not like this every day, I swear to God,” he says, laughing. “But when you feel seen like I did that night, you feel touched by magic.”

As we’re getting in the car, Pascal mentions his mother: He was 24 when she died by suicide. My own mother died by suicide when I was 18, a fact I wasn’t sure would be comfortable or appropriate to share. But then Pascal mentions that his mother got her PhD at San Antonio’s Trinity University, where I was a college freshman when my mother died. The coincidence is so uncanny that I find myself spilling. Pascal immediately takes my hand. “Whether we like it or not, we’re bonded,” he says.

There was something magical about María Verónica Pascal Ureta. Her firstborn son misses everything about her. Her beauty. Her smell. How funny she was, and how funny she found farts. “She couldn’t get past a fart of any kind without it absolutely destabilizing her into hysterics,” says Pascal. “She thought they were the most brilliant, hilarious, wonderful thing in the world.” She was also “very deep-feeling, very complex, very, very out of reach in a way,” he adds. Pascal’s mother tried as best she could to know her son. She read To Kill a Mockingbird after seeing the profound effect it had on Pascal in grade school. She pored over For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide / When the Rainbow Is Enuf, which consumed Pascal after his high school English teacher read the Lady in Red monologue. She let her 17-year-old son skip school to see a pre-Broadway production of Angels in America. When Pascal came home awestruck—emotionally reorganized by what he’d seen—she bought herself a ticket so she could experience some of what her son felt. Pascal has a tattoo of his mother’s signature on the inside of his right wrist. I have a tattoo in honor of my mother on the inside of my left. As a goodbye outside of Downey’s house, we touch our griefs against each other for a moment. Which is maybe what the movies, or literature, or theater allows us to do.

In honor of Pedro Pascal's cover shoot for Vanity Fair, here are some of my favorite excerpts from the amazing article that came with it, written by Karen Valby.

If people wonder why everyone and their neighbor has a thing for Pedro - this article has the answers.

[theriverspath]

Well, it's been 0 days since David Tennant made me ugly cry.

My birthday is coming up, and I've treated myself to a month of Marquee TV as a little gift. I was particularly looking forward to David's Richard II. I've never seen a production of it, nor read it. So, I was going in fairly blind. But, I'd seen clips of The Kiss on youtube, and even an interview or two about it. So I thought I was ready for the level of heartache it would evoke.

I was wrong.

Y'all. That scene within the greater context of the story ripped my queer little heart right out of my chest. First of all, David's delivery of

I live with bread like you, feel want, Taste grief, need friends: subjected thus, How can you say to me, I am a king?

in a previous scene floored me. Here is a individual struggling with the isolation and loneliness that comes with power. They have the natural human need to be seen, to have honest emotional connections, to have a safe space in which to be vulnerable. But, they are at the top of a social structure that does not reward vulnerability with safety. In order to be king, they have had to sacrifice a measure of their humanity.

It's only when Richard comes to accept that the end of his reign will also mean the end of his life, that he affords himself the freedom to reach out to someone he obviously cares deeply for. I mean, he's asking the man if he can lay by his side in death. There's no mention of wanting to be with his wife for all of eternity. It's Aumerle that he trusts to witness his anger and fear about his impending death, and it's Aumerle that he turns to for comfort.

And, The Kiss is lovely. It really is. The longing on Richard's face, the hesitation as he decides whether or not he's really going to go through with it, the tenderness of it all. It's beautiful.

It was what Richard did after The Kiss that opened up the ugly cry flood gates for me, though. It's when he places the crown on Aumerle's head. It's played for a little laugh, to break the tension of The Kiss. And again, I'd seen it done on youtube, but it hadn't made sense to me. It had seemed like an odd gesture, and I didn't understand the motivation behind it. This time, the meaning of it came crashing down on me.

In this play, the crown is the focus of everyone's love, devotion, and desire. The one who wears it is the most powerful, the most precious person in the land. And for one brief moment, Richard crowns Aumerle. Richard cannot say aloud that Aumerle is the king of his heart. But, that almost playful exchange says it for him.

And then Richard begins to fold all of that back inside of himself. The crown returns on his own head. His face starts to set into the stony mask of the divinely appointed ruler. But before it's done, there's The Look. It's all there: pining, hope, confession, regret, grief. A wistful sigh and brief brush of fingers against Aumerle's face and he walks away, not human but king once more. It broke me.

If this isn't an analogy for the closeted experience, then I don't know what is. Historically, if someone wanted financial and social stability, then they had better act straight. Their true feelings were a real danger to themselves and to those they loved.* Add the fact that David has said in an interview that they were going for a "slightly androgynous quality" just piles a whole 'nother layer of gender stuff on top of the sexuality stuff. Like, I could write a paper on this.

*I wrote that in the past tense, but it is still true for the majority of the people on the planet.

I know I'm a million years late to this play, and there's probably already a ton of analysis from the queer perspective floating around out there. But, I just had to get all these feelings out somewhere. Thanks for reading.

[bambisafe]

I'm back! It's the anon who requested all the Ashley relationship headcanons. I should probably stop calling myself "the anon who requested the Ashley relationship headcanons" because that's a mouthful, so from now on I'll be going by 🌻 anon :)

Now, I have a third request! Please consider... soft make-out session and cuddles with Re3 Remake Jill x female!reader. Because I have the BIGGEST crush on Jill ever. I literally got into Resident Evil in the first place because of her. I'm Jill's girlfriend irl trust me-- If I keep rambling about how much I love her, I'd be sending you an entire essay, so I'll be stopping there. Good day/night :D

morning kisses

re3r!jill valentine / f!reader

warnings : men don’t interact. none, just domestic fluff

word count : 236

author’s note : 🌻 anon, it’s great to hear from you once again! i’m happy to deliver to you and the jill girlies. re3r jill is such a lovely depiction of her character, i’m happy to write this <3

the world outside was still asleep, that morning serenity seeping through the windows in a deep blue hue.

jill lied in her side, hair mussed, hand under her cheek, and you can’t help but just lay and admire.

your girlfriend has never looked so peaceful. there is something about how she looks when she’s sleeping that is sacred. unmatched. only you get this with her.

you shift slightly and that wakes jill nearly instantly. not in alarm, no sudden movements, just a slow awakening.

she cracks her eyes open, finds you tucked under the comforter, the tiniest of rare smiles blooms on her perfect face.

reaching out, she cradles your jaw with a rough palm, thumb stroking your cheek.

“hi, sweetheart…” her voice comes out low and scratchy from sleep, and it makes you melt.

you shuffle closer, nuzzling your nose against hers. no more words are spoken, only shown in actions.

you kiss her once, a gentle brushing of the lips. and then again, slower, deeper. it’s not rushed, or hungry, it merely speaks i missed you while you were sleeping.

rolling onto her back, red lines stamped on her cheek, jill pulls you on top of her, arm bracketing around your waist as you lay your head on her warm chest.

this is all you need. this is all she needs. jill comes home from every mission for this type of domesticity. for you.

[phantomofthemountain]

Your boy has begun learning quads!!!

•ﻌ•𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯⋆ᓚᘏᗢ⋆♡⋆ᗢᘏᓗ⋆𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯•ﻌ•

Honestly, I never thought I'd be the type of therian that preforms Quadrobics. For a while I honestly thought quads were cringy and a surefire way of determining someone's validity as a nonhuman. But, as I've done more research and saw the joy it brought other Nonhumans, I began to feel jealous. They all look so free, happy, and confident. I wanted to be like them

•ﻌ•𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯⋆ᓚᘏᗢ⋆♡⋆ᗢᘏᓗ⋆𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯•ﻌ•

The problem, though, is that I have unmedicated chronic pain. Even just laying in bed is painful if I don't constantly flip myself around like rolling hotdog. So, I never really entertained the idea of doing quads all that much. Instead, I daydreamed about what it would feel like to be on all fours, to be feral.

But, for the past month or so, I've been getting better at understanding that, no matter what I do, I will always be in pain. And if I want to have any sort of quality of life, I need to learn how to be okay with that. I can't just rot in bed all the time as a way to avoid being in even worse pain, you know? If I have to be in pain, at least it's on MY terms.

•ﻌ•𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯⋆ᓚᘏᗢ⋆♡⋆ᗢᘏᓗ⋆𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯•ﻌ•

So, today I finally made the decision to begin learning Quadrobics. I set a bunch of rules to make sure I don't push myself too far or do something that could lead me to injury. I must stretch, hydrate, and asses my pain/energy levels before I even THINK of my front paws touching the floor.

I watched a bunch of different tutorials, stretched, and began learning how to walk. And it was... Interesting. I won't lie, it was extremely fun and affirming. But, it was also really scary and exhaustive. I underestimated how difficult it would be. I was unbalanced, my posture was all off, it was hard to breathe, and the whole time I felt like I was just falling. Just 30 seconds of walking was exhausting. I would do one lap around my basement, and pause for a few minutes to catch my breath. Then do another loop.

In total, I believe I completed about 10 loops today, and improved each time. But, there is still a LOT of learning and improvement I need to do. It's probably gonna take me a few months to feel confident and comfortable in my walk. I need to learn how to adjust my speed, to trust that I won't fall, to position myself more comfortably so I can breathe properly, and allow myself to slowly get into things so my heart doesn't explode lol

•ﻌ•𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯⋆ᓚᘏᗢ⋆♡⋆ᗢᘏᓗ⋆𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯•ﻌ•

All-in-all I am excited to start this journey and to have a new way to express my alterhumanity! It's gonna be a very slow process of building muscle, memory, rhythm, and posture. But, I feel hopeful! My pain/discomfort levels are good, and I feel excited to do more!

I don't know if I'm ever going to post videos of me doing quads as I do not have a mask and would like to remain anonymous. But, if you all find this interesting I may document my journey here through text!

•ﻌ•𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯⋆ᓚᘏᗢ⋆♡⋆ᗢᘏᓗ⋆𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯𐂯•ﻌ•

Anyway! (Unrelated rambles ahead) I know this post is longer than my usual, so, if you've read this far.. thank you! I've never been super good at summarizing my thoughts, and I'm not sure if anyone even reads these beyond the header. But, it's fun to write regardless! I enjoy letting you all in on this side of my life, and I'm incredibly thankful for the community we have here. I love you all and am once again so happy to be back! I have another long post coming in very soon and I hope y'all like it!

[wings-and-beskargam]

Echaaj'la

Part 2

(Part 1)

The continuation of this collaborative “fix-it”, post GGN tale. This has turned into a collaborative writing exercise between myself and @feralferrule, with input from a couple other vode. The thing I loved most about GGN was the collaboration and the reciprocal inspiration. Thanks so much to all of you for the ride!

Hang in there BIV boys, we’re coming!

Word Count ~5400

Synopsis - Joined by a couple friends, Archer and Choy get to know each other a little better while planning how they’re going to extract Hexx, Veetch, and Mayday from Barton IV without altering the timeline. Meanwhile, the Barton IV boys continue to freeze, still utterly baffled by their GGN ‘dreams’, but at least they were good dreams. 😙

Warnings: We’re trying to rope a bunch of chaos together (including some very non-canon shenanigans) and make it all behave. Let’s just go with it. 🤫 Some angsty-ness and tender moments. Archer isn’t sure how to process her feelings or worries. She needs a hug. Or maybe more of that pink drink.

Mando’a Words

Al’verde - commander

Aruetiise - Outsiders

Beskar’gam - armour

Beskaryc kar’ta - beskar heart

Copi - shortened from copikla, “cute”. Copi is Archer’s young rancor.

Haar Trak - “The Arrow”, Archer’s Kom'rk-class starfigher.

Kar’ta -  heart

Kov’nyn - the Mandalorian “Keldabe kiss”. The touching of foreheads, usually by helmeted individuals. Can be used in combat (I.e., a violent headbutt), but when performed gently, this gesture is an act of affection and trust (not exclusively romantic), and demonstrates a bond between the individuals involved. 

Ner - my

Ner runi cuyi ca’tra, bal gar me’suum’ika bal ka’ra - My soul is the night sky, and you are the moon and stars

Olarom - Welcome

Shab’la - screwed-up

Resol’nare - “The six actions”. Six tenets, central to the Mandalorian way of life.

Yaim’sik - home/house

Barton IV, Imperial Depot

Another frigid morning.  Not that there were ever warm mornings, but he’d settle for a plain cold one once in a while. Commander Mayday rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stood up from his cot. A thin skim of ice on the drab, grey duracrete walls of his bunk room shimmered in the pale light beginning to stream through the tiny window, and he could see each exhale as they puffed out in a swirling cloud in front of him. 

This was a miserable place to be. He and his squad had been assigned to guard the remote outpost and its cargo crates over a year ago. The base came under constant attack from raiders - local people, and over the months most of the squad had been lost in the conflicts. Morale was at an all-time low, the Empire had all but abandoned them to their icy fates, and all of his squad had been lost apart from two troopers - Hexx and Veetch.

A faint reflection of light caught his eye as he bent to pick up his armour from its neat stack on the floor. The pendant around his neck, a copper coloured metal hexagon, was swinging and catching the orange glow from his small, barely functional, heating device.  He paused to consider the simple pendant. It hung on a leather cord and had faint writing etched on it in runes he recognized as Mandalorian, but could not read.

He’d woken up one morning, about 6 months past and had discovered it hanging around his neck. The clothing strewn across the floor was not his usual blacks and his favourite, well his ONLY, pair of sunglasses had been missing.  He’d stormed into Hexx and Veetch’s quarters demanding to know what trouble they had been up to, only to find them arguing about some wild theory. About a dream. A dream with eerie similarities to the one he’d had that night, and had continued having since.  

The dream was difficult to remember, he had only brief images left when he awoke. A red rose woven into flowing brown hair.  A tattoo in the shape of his pendant, etched on a pale sternum. Soft hands running over his hair and along his cheeks. His forehead resting gently against another.  He always felt warm and a little less alone when he woke from this dream, but its appearance along with that of the pendant were utterly perplexing.  

Dreams couldn’t explain the appearance and disappearance of physical objects. He must have spent too much time trapped at this miserable base, he was loosing his grip on reality.  He’d spent several days trying to figure out what the kark had happened, but eventually gave it up for some quirk in the force. All he knew for sure, was that his new pendant was inexplicably dear to him (but couldn’t, sadly, shade his eyes from the glaring sun).  He rarely took it off, and kept it hidden in the collar of his blacks.

With a sigh, he resigned himself once again to possibly never finding the answers to all of the questions he had. He tucked his pendant into his collar and began to kit up in his amour, wondering if the reinforcements he’d requested 28 rotations ago would be arriving finally.

***

In the adjacent barracks Hexx and Veetch were also preparing for the day. Veetch was rummaging through his small crate of belongings when he came across an item of ladies lingerie. He considered the lacy scrap of cloth for a moment. It still faintly held the scent from it’s presumable former owner.  Together he and Hexx had a matching set.  But Hexx never wanted to talk about their secret treasures.  It felt like he’d gotten his in a dream, but that couldn’t be right - the fabric was real, he could hold it in his hands.  The more he tried to puzzle out the answer, the more foggy his dream-like memory became. It had to be just a dream.  A really good dream.  Like a children’s tale, full of mystery and magic.  He brushed the lacy fabric with his fingers one last time and then stood and headed out into the chill of the base. 

Hexx followed him silently, his thoughts also on the inexplicable appearance of items he and his brother kept secret. Veetch had some wild theories about the mysterious appearances and the recurring dreams he had about a mystery woman, but had given up trying to connect the dots after their Commander had reprimanded him for making a huge, slightly insane string board on the wall of their barracks.  The memory of the look on Mayday’s face when he’d first seen the huge art project still brought a smile to Hexx’s face.

Though he’d never admit it, Hexx had similar dreams, and often carried his treasure - a smaller scrap of lacy black fabric than Veetch had - with him through the day, convinced that it gave him good luck.  He surreptitiously checked for its presence in one of his belt boxes.  It was there, and the woman he’d gotten it from had to be out there too, she had to be real.  He felt assured it was going to be a good day.

***

Kyrimorut, Mandalore 

“This way, watch your head.” Archer held open a low door that curiously appeared to be hewn directly into the trunk of a vast veshok tree growing next to a pristine lake at the northern edge of the village.  Choy ducked inside the door and found herself in an expansive, partially underground space.  Numerous starships of varying sizes rested inside, gleaming in the low, artificial light.

“Wow.  Mandalorians really love their secret, hidden spaces, huh?” said Choy.  Archer chuckled.  “Well, this is a secret stronghold for some very high-profile, moderately unstable and ridiculously wealthy military deserters, ex-Jedi and other similarly unsavoury characters.  We don’t exactly want to hang out an olarom sign for the Empire.” Archer smirked.

Archer had just received a message from Jaing, the information specialist they’d visited not an hour before.  He’d informed them that an Imperial shuttle was scheduled to deploy to Barton IV two standard rotations from now.  They didn’t have much time to waste so they’d come to prepare to leave for Barton IV.

Archer led her in the direction of the large hangar door, which appeared to open directly out from the side of the tree under which the hangar was build, opposite the small door they had just entered by.  There was a medium-sized starship parked here, its wings in an upright position.  As they approached the side of the ship, a woman in dark crimson coveralls slid out from underneath it wiping grease from her hands with a rag.

“Choy, this is Parja.  Parja, Choy,” Archer introduced.  She turned to Choy.  “Parja is our resident mechanic and general technical specialist.  She’s Fi’s partner. Parja,” she said turning back towards the other woman, “thanks for doing my preflight-check on such short notice.  I’m afraid we’ve have to depart unexpectedly quickly.”

Choy studied the fierce-looking mechanic.  She looked pretty familiar, and she knew they’d met briefly. “Oh! We met at GAR Goth Night,” she realized out loud.  

Parja raised an eyebrow, “Where? ‘GAR’ as in Grand Army of the Republic?”

Choy looked questioningly at Archer who nodded [[She’s safe, just remember I’m on the down low.]] Choy gave her a subtle wink and turned back to Parja.

“Parja, I’m glad to really meet you. I only just saw you across the dance floor at 79’s on Coruscant months ago. You were dancing with your husband and his brother and Archer.” Parja squinted her eyes and looked just over Choy’s head.  “Everyone was dressed in black and the clone bar was decorated all spooky? Do you remember?” 

She shook her head, casting her gaze around, “I, I thought I had some dreams kind of like that. Fi hasn’t mentioned anything like it,” she looked at Archer. “You were there? With us?” Archer nodded.

“I can help you remember,” Choy offered, holding up her hand. “I’m no Jedi but I can do the same stuff they can. The place had some special power over it that night that gave us all amnesia, but someone helped me remember and I helped Archer.” 

Again Parja looked to Archer for confirmation. 

Choy continued, “May I jog your memory?” She held out her hand, “I promise the rest of your mind is safe, I won’t go poking around or anything,” Choy smiled. Parja nodded and placed her hand on Choy’s. Choy stepped closer, placed her other hand on Parja’s and began radiating calm and reassuring energy toward her. 

“I will show you images, [[of the club from my memories.]] Choy switched to speaking through the force. She sent safe welcoming energy into Parja’s brain, visualizing a mist lifting off of her mind. Choy then projected her own memory of Parja arriving at 79’s with Rav, her outfit, her husband, the dancing. [[it was a theme night at 79’s, gothic, melancholy, romantic]] she showed her the other patrons, the decor, the performers on stage. She coaxed out Parja’s suspended memories frozen by the strange fogginess that she could feel in the force around people who had been at GGN. 

Parja drew a sharp breath, “Yes, that’s like my dream. Oh, this all really happened. I was there!”

Choy continued. [[Archer met a clone commander in the GAR - well Empire now - Mayday, who went through quite the effort to woo her.]] Choy showed Mayday giving her the rose and a snippet of how they looked at each other.

Archer watched Parja’s expression soften from surprise and wonder to something happier as she caught Archer’s eye. Choy felt Parja’s caring and gladness directed toward her friend, and noticed Archer crossing her arms, cheeks colouring a bit.

[[And I- well, I hit it off with his men.]] Choy carefully parsed the more intimate memories from her projection into Parja’s mind, but some of the emotion slipped through, the infatuation, the deep concern. Parja’s attention was back on Choy, Archer noting her raised eyebrows and Choy’s blush.  

[[I know what terrible things are going to happen to these men, and have come here to ask Archer for her help to rescue them from the Imperial base they are stationed at.]] Choy showed her memory of the images of Barton IV, the explosion, the row of helmets, Mayday with a heavy heart, the avalanche, Crosshair, and the cold, indifferent Imperial officer. Mayday dead in the snow. 

“The Empire is throwing clones away like trash, abusing them, even experimenting on them now.” Choy said out loud with restrained passion, blinking back tears. She released Parja’s hand with a quick squeeze to bring her back to the here and now. “Thank you for listening,” Choy added and stepped back out of Parja’s personal space.

Parja blinked slowly and then looked to Archer. “So now you’re flying off to some Imperial installation, without a plan, or backup, to extract three random clones?”

Archer scoffed. ”Who said I don’t have a plan?” 

”Does your “plan” involve a crate of thermal detonators?”

Archer shrugged non-commitally, a huge grin on her face.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Scorch.” Parja smirked, then turned serious. “But you know better than to think we’ll let you go to infiltrate an Imperial base by yourself, Keb. I’m coming with you and we’re bringing Fi too,” she continued, walking off.  

“Your ship’s grounded until we come back!” she shouted over her shoulder as she left through the small door, heading towards the Skirata home.

Choy looked at Archer quizzically. “Keb?”

”My name.  It’s Kebii’tra.  “Archer” is a nickname of sorts.”

Choy nodded as she considered the irony that her own name now was a nickname derived from Archer’s language. She looked around at the space and wondered about the construction of the place and how these enormous compounds couldn’t be older than the huge trees above. 

She looked at the comically small door that Parja had just left through and tipped her head. “So if you want to use the force on this adventure, you can just blame me. But that Parja’s a good egg. Would you ever feel safe coming out to her as a force user? Why’d you tell me anyway? You have that pink booze they were passing out? That stuff was something else.” Choy waved a hand up dismissively, and cast her gaze around Archer’s ship. “You don’t have to answer any of this, I’m just thinking out loud right now. But if she’s going to help- which is great, don’t get me wrong, I just think that says a lot about how much she cares about you.” She turned to Archer and looked her in the eyes, “Now, I’ll take your secret to my grave but I don’t think you should have to.”

Archer shrugged in Choy’s direction.  “They liberate and take in defected clones here.  It’s part of the reason this place exists, and it’s how they live by the Resol’nare.  But Mandalorians have a long… tumultuous history with force users.  The conflicts between us have shaped our culture for centuries.  Distrust of the Jedi runs deep in our blood, and Mandalorian force users may be hidden away or shunned. It’s different here, people are less traditional, obviously, but I don’t have a great many friends and I don’t want to lose any because I’m different.”

Choy didn’t fail to notice the slightly pained look that briefly crossed Archer’s face.  

”And to your second question,” she said abruptly changing the subject, “You threatened me.” Choy received a teasingly wicked grin. “It was only fair I let you know what you were getting yourself into,” she said with a wink. 

Continuing, she said, “Since you mentioned them, those pink drinks - what did they do to us? They made me feel strange. Like I wasn’t quite myself in some ways. I did some things I wouldn’t normally have, and everything I felt seemed exaggerated. It was all so intense by the end of the night. ” 

“Hold up,” Choy laughed, “Is it really a threat if I don't know you can hear me?” she smirked at the other woman. “Anyway, yeah we were definitely in an altered state,” she squinted her eyes and thought back to that night. “I’ve had a while to reflect on this and I believe what I was feeling was genuine. Like, I was really annoyed with Jesse, but I was already annoyed with him. I avoided Echo after the drinks because I knew my heart would break in a million pieces if I saw him. I felt very platonic toward the Bad Batchers and all the ladies felt like sisters I never had. It was like I felt everything stronger, but it all came from me.”   

She shifted her weight to one leg and held a hand out. “But would I have jumped in the sack with two men had I been sober?” She shrugged, “Possibly. Probably- honestly,” she nodded, “ that’s exactly what I would have done then. I was still hormonal like a tooka in heat- sorry, I know, TMI. But between the force being new for me and the stupid GAR-issue birth control implant, I was a hot mess. I still have to focus every day just to manage it, but it’s better. I wasn’t eased into the force from birth like you or anyone else in this galaxy. Yoda said it’s the nature of power to fill voids. Apparently I was a void,” Choy added sardonically, eyebrows raised. 

She looked at Archer again who seemed not at all reassured. Choy sighed, “Here’s what I think- whatever you did with Mayday, that came from your heart. It didn’t feel like regular drunk inhibition to me and you didn’t seem drugged. I’ve seen that and your mind felt clear. We’ll just have to see how we feel about the guys when we get them, and how they feel about us, too. Who knows, maybe we just end up rescuing them and it’s like catch and release.”

She paused and stepped a little closer to Archer, “Hey, nothing you did was inherently bad. Do Mandalorians have cultural rules, taboos about this sort of thing? Or your own rules you have for yourself?”

“There’s no cultural taboo. Far from it.”  Archer paused, looking a little uncomfortable. “I’m just…not usually into the casual scene I guess.  I don’t really regret anything, I’m just still unsure how things seemed to move so quickly for me. And of what that might mean.”

Choy sensed something behind Archer’s words, but let it be for the time being.

Archer continued, unprompted. “I gave him my kar’ta…” she admitted. “He was still loyal to the Empire, I couldn’t tell him about this place,” she gestured around them, “couldn’t yet offer him, them, a place to get away to.  But still, I gave it to him.”

“Your kar’ta?” Choy asked her, unsure of what she meant, but sensing a weight to the admission. 

“My heart. My beskar heart - from my armour,” she hedged slightly.  “He hung it around his neck, and wore it as a pendant the rest of the night.”

“I’ve read that piece is special.  It symbolizes the heart and spirit of the Mandalorian people, right?”  She eyed Archer knowingly.

“Yeah, that’s right,” she trailed off, apparently unprepared to go further.

”Hey,” Archer began anew, once again changing the course of the conversation, “since we have a bit of time before Parja comes back with Fi, let's head back to my yaim’sik for a minute.  I should introduce - or maybe reintroduce - you to someone.”

“Yes, of course,” Choy said a little absentmindedly. She followed Archer out of the little door and back through the woods. She was considering how deeply affected Archer seemed to be by her dalliance with Mayday. Choy felt deep guilt seeping up. A memory of Hexx throwing the back room key to Mayday at her suggestion played across her mind. She realized that she had drawn Archer into the storm she was caught in, her lack of boundary and control stoking that far deeper power than the force, the fires of desire, the very thing driving all the conflict and war for power around them. She realized that maybe she wasn’t supposed to be here just for the boys, but for Archer, too. She felt a strong resolve to help Archer regain her sense of integrity and to set things right. 

Sensing her inner turmoil, Archer looked back at Choy who had straggled behind with her thoughts. Choy just smiled and quickened her pace. “So who’s the mystery person? Someone from GGN, I’d imagine?”

”Oh yes, I think you’ll quite like her.”

***

Hyperspace, en-route from Mandalore to Barton IV

Archer reclined in the pilot’s chair of her Kom’rk-class starfighter - Haar Trak  - content for the moment to rest and process some of the memories and information Choy had unlocked. They were presently speeding through hyperspace on their way from Mandalore to Barton IV, a journey that was nearly complete. 

Parja and Fi had joined them, Parja being convinced that they would need the help.  Or maybe she was just eager for another opportunity to see some of their new gear tested in action.  She wasn't sure.  Both Parja and Fi had spoken with Choy and were relieved of the fog over their memories.  They were now seated towards the rear of the ship, conversing quietly.

 Choy was seated beside her in the copilot’s chair, apparently lost within her own thoughts. She’d made it clear to them that in order to maintain the integrity of future events,  the three clones must be extracted without the knowledge of anyone on Barton IV, and that they must all be believed to have been killed in action. This was going to be… interesting.

The Imperial clone trooper known as Crosshair would soon be arriving on Barton IV with one Lieutenant Nolan. Crosshair had been at GGN and had seemed to know Mayday then.  It was curious that this day would be the first time they’d be meeting, according to Choy. Now that she was thinking of the people she’d seen that night, she realized there were quite a few people there who seemed to be from another time.  Curious. She wondered, not for the first time, what purpose the minstrels had had for bringing all of those beings together the way they had. What a story that must be.

This mission to free the three steadfast clones trapped on Barton IV was the right thing to do, and aligned with Kyriomorut’s objective of liberating and bringing more vode to the stronghold. But she’d also promised Mayday she’d come for him, and she felt compelled to fulfill that promise - no matter the ultimate outcome.  Sure, he hadn’t known exactly what she’d meant and probably didn’t remember anything about that night, but still she’d given her word.

 Choy had made it clear that all three men had experienced much in the past months and would be happy to move on to a different life, if given the chance.  It was time to fulfill her promise, then.  She recalled the last few moments of GGN, and felt her resolve strengthen. The memory played before her eyes.

Mayday hugged her close at a table near the bar, she was seated sideways across his lap. He laid his head against her shoulder, pressing his face into the crook of her neck. He sighed deeply as she waved to Eo and her squad as they departed for the night. 

She looked down at him and stroked his hair soothingly with her free hand as the tumult of emotions roiling inside him washed over her. He’d seemed lost in thought, trapped in a loop of “what-if’s”.

“Are you tired, Al’verde?” she’d asked. 

He’d looked up at her, his large eyes tinged with emotions she didn’t want to name. It was a heartbreaking look, and one she couldn’t deny held more than just weariness.

 “No.” 

“Then what’s wrong, ner kar’ta?”

“The club is closing soon.” He paused for a long moment, searching her gaze and clutching her more tightly to him. “And I don’t want to leave.” 

She’d looked up then, noticing that indeed the club was beginning to clear out, patrons saying their farewells and making their way to the exit. Hexx and Veetch had been hovering nearby, both looking dispirited after Choy’s departure. It was time for them to go as well. 

Setting her nearly empty glass of pink-drink down on the table behind her she pressed her palm to Mayday’s cheek, running her thumb back and forth softly. He leaned into the touch.  

“Shab,” she thought to herself with a heavy sigh of her own, “this one is the call for help that has brought me more trouble.” What was it that made these three bearded troopers so sweet and hard to deny? And why-oh-why must they still be with the Empire? Why couldn’t she just offer him and his men a safe place to go?���

She’d brought her forehead to rest against his in a gentle kov’nyn and said softly, “Ner runi cuyi ca’tra, bal gar me’suum’ika bal ka’ra.” She knew that he’d probably understood only a few of the words but she could feel their impact on him nonetheless. 

Their fast-growing attachment to each other was probably obvious to everyone in the club.  She should have kept her distance, knowing they would inevitably have to part - maybe permanently - at the end of the night, but she’d been as helpless in the end to the mysterious atmosphere of GGN as everyone else.

”Come with me?” he’d asked then. 

Before she’d been able formulate a response Hexx and Veetch appeared over his shoulder and cleared their throats.

”Uhm, commander?  Sir?” Veetch spoke hesitantly.

Mayday’s posture stiffened immediately, and he nearly growled his response. “I know, Veetch.”

Mayday sighed once again before rising from the chair and setting her on her feet. He took her hand in his, and as a group they walked towards the doors. He paused with her, eyeing the two troopers meaningfully. They walked through the doors with a nod… and seemed to fade in a pink-tinged mist that definitely hadn’t been there a moment ago.

What the kark? She hadn’t questioned that at the time. Mayday hadn’t seemed to notice.

He was hesitating, his reluctance to go etched in every line of his posture and rippling off him in strong pulses. His eyes said everything he wouldn’t voice. She squeezed his hand and tried to send a subtle wave of calm reassurance to him. He took a shaky breath and crushed her to his chest.  She squeezed him back as he said, “I’ll comm you. Promise.”

He pulled back and grinned at her. Mand’alor, that cheeky smile was contagious. She returned it with a wink and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t forget, Al’verde. I’ll come after you if you do, and I’ll bring Copi,” she threatened teasingly.

“Promise?”

“Ni haat’mitir.”

Eyes shining, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. He turned quickly and passed through the doorway, fading away in swirling pinkish mist.

Again she hadn’t questioned that decidedly not normal departure at the time. 

And of course, he hadn’t contacted her.  She’d promised to come after him, and now she was. But the uncertainty she felt about where would they would stand after all the time that had passed was distracting. She sighed quietly.  “Stop it,” she chided herself.

It didn’t matter what happened after.  Getting the three men away from the Empire, saving their lives, giving them a chance to live and make their own choices was all that mattered. She was a professional.  She was not going to let these dikut’la pink-mist generated emotions and worries get in the way of completing this mission with everyone intact.

Clearing her throat, Archer turned fully in her seat to face Choy. ”Show me again, the events of the afternoon when we’ll have to get your two lads out.”  Choy took Archer’s offered hand and sent images of Crosshair overhearing an urgent comm message from Veetch relaying that Hexx had been taken down by raiders, followed by images of a shuttle stationed in front of the base exploding and sending a man in clone trooper armour - Veetch - flying through the air.

Parja and Fi, overhearing the activity joined the planning in the cockpit.

”It seems as though there are only a couple minutes between when Veetch reports Hexx to have been taken down at the back of this depot and when he himself is caught up in this shuttle explosion near the southwestern end.” Archer said, deep in thought.

“Yes, and Crosshair will be closely watching the shuttle explosion from the eastern watchtower, while Mayday is investigating in the northwestern area.  The light from the detonation will blind Crosshair temporarily but only for a few seconds.  There won’t be much time to get to Veetch without him noticing us,” said Choy.

“Hm.  We’ll have to split up into two teams to get to both men in time, I think,” Archer returned. “If we can covertly station one team on the east side near where the raiders make initial hard contact with Hexx and Veetch behind the barracks building, they can provide the boys with some subtle non-lethal cover fire and transport Hexx to the ship after Veetch breaks away to the south towards the shuttle.  A covert stun-shot on Hexx while Veetch has his back turned should maintain his story of being taken down and prevent him from actually being shot.”

Choy looked slightly aghast at the idea of deliberately stunning Hexx, but said, “I’m a pretty good shot, I can probably manage that.”

Fi brightened.  “Looks like you’re teaming up with me!  I’ve heard I’m ok with a blaster rifle.” He winked. Parja rolled her eyes fondly.

“Make sure you’re not firing unless you really need to.  Stun bolts will be really obvious and if anyone notices, your cover will be blown”, Parja added. “But what about the other man, Veetch?”

Archer crossed her arms. “You and I will get him.  This might be a good chance to try out that new remote override device you guys been working on. You up for a covert installation and remote “self-destruction” of an imperial shuttle?”

“You know it.” Parja smiled.  She was always game for testing out new tech. Especially if it caused a little mayhem for the Empire.

If we detonate that shuttle just a bit earlier than what Choy’s seen, it’ll still provide the flash of light we need for visual cover, and it’ll throw Veetch up into the right spot without it being fatal for him.  If my timing is right, I should be able to jet in and snatch him from the air as he’s blown back away from the shuttle.” Archer looked thoughtful for a moment. “I suppose the intensity of the explosion may be enough to explain the fact that he is suddenly missing too.”

“Wait,” Choy interjectected, “you can carry the weight of an armoured man while flying your jetpack?” asked Choy a bit doubtfully.

“I once scooped up a fully Katarn-armoured commando.  Dropped him in a mud pit.  It was hilarious,” Archer reflected with a smile. 

“You… what?” Choy blinked incredulously.

“He called Copi ugly.”  Archer shrugged. “Anyway, these skinny lads shouldn’t be a problem”.

“Wow, ok.”  Choy blinked.  “Oh!  We’ll have to make sure some armour pieces stay behind, or at least their helmets.” Archer looked at Choy questioningly. “Trust me,” said Choy.  

Archer shrugged. “Very well.”

Fi wondered, “The base’s perimeter sensor array may be problematic for us trying to stage ahead of time. Do you have an explosive plan to deal with that too?” 

Archer considered for a moment.  “If what Choy’s shown us is accurate, their sensors are shab’la.  But we may be safest to get into position after the raiders have triggered the alarm themselves. Timing will be tight, but we’ll avoid detection, save time, and it should be workable with all the chaos, right?”

“The larger concern though is the likelihood that those troopers will have no memory of us and will probably resist our abduction efforts. Choy, can you remedy that before they regain consciousness?”

“They should be conscious for me to help them remember. I think I can handle them though.” Choy smiled at the group reassuringly.

“And Mayday?” Archer asked gravely.  “When can we get Mayday out?”

Choy glanced to the side for a moment, before returning her gaze to meet Archer’s. “Mayday has to believe that Hexx and Veetch are gone.  He has to stay with Crosshair for a bit longer. Just until the next morning. It’s Crosshair befriending Mayday, being saved by him, and then witnessing what he thinks is Mayday’s death that lets him move past the Empire. It seems cruel, but I believe it has to happen.  For the sake of a lot of lives.”

There was a long silence, as the group looked at each other. Archer felt deeply unsettled.  “We have to allow him to be injured and then appear to die under these horrible circumstances? What if he does die?”

She wasn’t sure she could remain composed if she had to witness that.  

”I’m almost certain he doesn’t,” responded Choy immediately.  “At least not right there, like I showed you.  Fi interjected “He certainly will suffering from hypothermia, which in its final stages can cause loss of consciousness. Pulse and respirations can be difficult to detect too. We will need to get him quickly to the ship and stabilize any injuries he’s got from the avalanche.  He’ll probably need the bacta tank back home.”

[[I believe you can get to him in time, and we can look after him and Hexx and Veetch.  It’s all going to work out, you’ll see.]]  Choy was looking at Archer, and she felt her trying to convey confidence and reassurance. “We can do this,” Choy then said aloud to the group.

The ship’s navicomputer emitted an auditory tone before dropping the craft out of hyperspace.  The icy visage of Barton IV loomed large in the viewscreen.  Archer looked at her hastily assembled rescue squad and nodded. 

“Well, we’ll soon find out.”

Tagging same folks as last time - let me know if it’s a bother! @eobe @lonewolflupe @ghostymarni @foxwithadarkside @nocturius8015ficore @feralferrule @noblelightfighter @fuzzyenthusiastnelket01

[qurems]

Aftercare with Nerd!Chris

warnings: hinting to sex, aftercare, reader is lowk evil, supporting women’s rights and wrongs

prev fic

“You keep staring” you mumble as you lay your head back with your eyes closed. “It’s hard not too.” Chris whispered, looking up at you from his position. After weeks of “enjoying each other’s company” Chris realized that aftercare was another way to get closer to you. “What does that mean?” You look down, furrowing your brows and pull yourself back. “I-I’m just saying you look really nice! Like really nice…” Chris replied, throwing his hands up in defense. “I’m just playing, Chris. Quit acting so nervous around me!” You sigh, putting your feet back into his lap, causing him to resume his foot massage. “Y-you know, I think you look your most gorgeous right now.” Chris says, obviously nervous.

“Right now, as in, when we’re done fucking?” You smile, looking down at Chris’s ruin state, “explain.” “W-well, you look your most natural, not saying you don’t look good ‘not natural’! But, you look so authentic, It’s beautiful in some way…” Chris rambles, trying to explain his thought process. “You look so relaxed, like i took the world off your shoulders…” be smiles before kissing you legs. “You have a way with those sweet words you speak to me… you know if you wanted round two, you just could have asked?” You smirk, grabbing Chris’s jaw before pulling him into a passionate kiss.

It had been a month since you first slept with Chris. Didn’t know that once you fucked him, you couldn’t go back. When you and Chris had sex, he always prioritized your satisfaction before his own. It’s pathetic to admit but this was a first when it came to sexual experience, it was new to you for a man to care about your need that much. After a week of complete sexual pleasure, Chris was starting to understand more and more on how to properly please you. At first he genuinely couldn’t handle all that, you felt sadistic watching him try to keep up with you.

“I’m just telling the truth!” Chris replied, pulling out of the kiss. “It’s crazy to think about a month ago i didn’t even entertain myself with the idea of being with you… i-is that what we’re doing? W-what are we?” Chris pulls back on his knees in front of you. “It’s simple, we’re just two collage kids experimenting, no need to label anything!” You reply, sitting back down on the bed. “What if i wanted it to be something? Is that bad? Like I totally understand if you don’t reciprocate, but i just need you to know how i feel about you. I’m ready to commit myself for this relationship…” he looks up, giving a pleasing look.

“I can’t believe you’re pulling the ‘what are we’ card immediately after rearranging my guts, Chris.” You sigh, pulling Chris into your bed. “I-I just don’t know how to act… you’ve put me in a state of pure euphoria, multiple times at that. Sorry for falling in love after you took my virginity!” Chris responded, hiding his face in your neck. The idea of Chris being your boyfriend left you feeling something you’ve never felt. Another part of you felt like having Chris as a lover, it felt like an extra responsibility. It sounds wrong, but in a way, having Chris as your boyfriend would lower your social status.

You left really bad thinking about thinking so low about Chris, it was true in some way. The entire reason you went to college was to network with people, your father originally wanted you to start working for the company he owned right out of high school but was persuaded into letting you seek higher education. You planned on finding a trust fund baby as a husband, maybe become a stay-at-home-wife. You aren’t ready on thinking about Chris as a husband yet. I mean yea, he’s smart, will probably get a good job after school, knows how, is at least learning how to take care of you, and is completely devoted to you. But still, there was something missing. Chris felt like an extension of you, like he didn’t care about how he truly felt, only thought or did anything that would keep you into him.

“You’re thinking about something…” Chris said, pulling you out of your daze. “Just about us” you responded, snugging into his grasp. He looked up, giving you a kiss on your palm. “We don’t need to worry about how to identify our relationship…” you stated before falling into a state of slumber in Chris’s arms.

[harleycao]

I didn't see the damn movie because I KNEW it was going to be shit but I looked up what happened shortly after it came out and YES TO EVERYTHING YOU SAID!!

I genuinely hope that Superman is good enough that at least some people realize how bad marvel has become. Like, it certainly looks good. And I trust James Gunn to make a good movie. And the last great marvel movie that didn't have a lot of nostalgia attached to it was Guardians of the Galaxy 3.

(i know myself well enough to know I sometimes fall for nostalgia bait, okay? I loved SM: NWH, A:IW & A:EG though I only watched the latter 2 each once because they were so long and painful).

And the think Superman is going to be amazing but we'll see. I also refuse to see Fantastic Four specifically because they rushed it so they could put it out in July to compete with Superman and I refuse to give marvel any money.

But back to my original point: i hope that Superman is as good as I think it's going to be and that a lot of marvel fans see it and realize how much marvel really sucks so that they stop thinking the slop marvel puts out nowadays is any good. Just so I can stop seeing people love sucky movies without any awareness.

(I got so off track with this, sorry) .

I really truly don’t feel that going back and forth in SOMEONE ELSE’s inbox is passé, but fuck I’m gonna be a shithead and do it - I gave up on the MCU way before EG, even. Maybe right after CW? I could tell it was a train going off the rails (no pun intended), and Bucky’s character means a shit ton to me. Idc - I have Bucky tattoos and everything. Like the character demonstrates a lot to me, and I loooove Steve and Stucky, but the resilience of Bucky’s character arc helped me a lot - yeah no shit he’s fictional, but I find meaning in art, sue me.

I took a giant leap of faith and watched Thunderbolts. I wish I could go back in time and not do it. There is nothing new or innovative (ableist jokes? a ‘villain’ who uses his powers to snap people out of existence? a govt official who commandeers a group of super—people to do evil govt business for very unknown nebulous reasons that are never explained?). I’m sure this all sounds familiar; worse, it means that all the shitty things that happened before in the MCU have no weight. If you watched IW or EG and suffered through it, this movie ensures it was for nothing. If you watched TFATWS, it was for nothing.

The worst part of the movie - and the part I am absolutely shocked people enjoyed - is the way mental health is depicted in the movie, esp in Bobs character. It was viscerally traumatic to anyone with any kind of bipolar or psychosis disorder.

Minnie, if you do ever get curious to watch Bucky’s 10 minutes of screen time, don’t worry - just watch the trailers. I know you haven’t, but if you get curious - anything impactful or interesting he’s allowed to do in the movie is shown there. It’s also very funny to me: with both Sebastian and Chris - you can clearly see when they are fed up with the characters direction and it comes through in their depiction (also has ANYONE ever described Sebastian as grumpy before? If I had to film this Bucky, I’d be too). It was fucking sad to see the same old shit again. People think it’s good bc they’re so used to the last few years being total garbage, but there’s nothing redeeming or compelling about Bucky’s character here, and I say that as a person who fucking loves that dude.

I'm really sorry to hear that you feel this way, darling. It is awful when instead of being excited about it, you start to dread new content of one of your favourite characters ever, one that means the absolute world to you. I know how that feels, unfortunately.

Since I haven't seen Thunderbolts or TFATWS, there's not much I can say about that, but I'm just going to leave this here for anyone who feels similar to how you feel, so they know they're not alone in this ❤️ Sending hugs!

[botanyshitposts]

Eta on the YouTube video? No rush, just exchange

im gonna be honest man please do not count on me here lmao. my follow through rate for these projects is like 5%. real ones remember gourdquest and other related failed projects i came close to the sun on. if i succeed it will be huge for me on a genuine personal level and it will be the first time i've finished a creative project at all in years but if i do not. neither you nor me should be surprised

[necrotic-nephilim]

@sasheneskywalker i love when you enable me to ramble about things because oh my god do i have thoughts.

so recently, i made a post discussing the phenomena of DC x DP and DC x MLB crossovers and why they exist and part of that post was discussing how largely speaking, at least half, if not more of the Batfamily fandom doesn't read the comics. if they interact with canon DC material, it's adaptations that are their own sequestered universes and oftentimes not remotely comic accurate or seeking to be. the most obvious example is the Young Justice cartoon. i'm adding a cut to this post because it just got so long i'm so sorry.

a lot of times, when people are discussing the "why" of this oversaturation of fanon-only fandom, they blame Wayne Family Adventures. and i think, to a point, i agree WFA is responsible for a boom in this fandom. but as someone who's been in the fandom long before we had WFA, to me it's the other way around. WFA was DC's way of meeting the demand for this easy-to-get-into, easy-to-consume content about the Batfamily that predicates itself on the comics just enough to be vaguely the same characters, but has a more sitcom, slice-of-life sort of vibe so DC could profit off of this section of the fanbase that otherwise wasn't consuming its primary material. and well, it's definitely worked. not only that, but i have a weird theory that the decline in the MCU also led to the rise in the Batfamily fandom. when you consider the fan content that made the MCU popular within fandom, it's that 2012 "they all live in Avengers Tower and Thor is eating poptarts and Clint is in the vents and there are movie nights every Friday" sort of vibe. those were the fics that were a hallmark of the fandom. and as the MCU has strayed from well... quality content in general, but specifically well-thought-out crossover content where characters can have their own arcs but also exist in a wider story where they clearly care about each other, that fandom was sort of homeless. so where do you go, if you like a superhero found family where you can have villains for angst but also stick them all in one big family-like home for silly crack and have a plethora of options for gay ships? well. you go to the Batfamily. if you write a crack/fluff Batfamily genfic with silly vibes and low stakes instead of say, a fic about a very specific comic issue even if it's a popular comic, you're *going* to get more traction for the former. because the fanbase largely just isn't reading the comics.

and i feel... complicated about this. because on one hand, Don't Like Don't Read has been a tenet of my fandom experience. i'm very pro-fandom and that includes fandom content i don't like. and to an extent, i do think this sort of should apply to Batfamily fanon. i enjoy having my moments with other comic purists, giggling over exceptionally painful OOC headcanons or even facepalming in pain over some content but it is on me to not interact with that content. you don't make fandom a better place by being hostile to fans who engage with canon in ways you don't approve of. and frankly? we as comic readers are not going to get non-comic fans to read the comics by being asshats to them. no one is going to want to pick up any comic if we get a superiority complex about it. and also, i feel like we're all lying to ourselves a little bit insisting comics are so, so easy to get into. they're not. we can just all agree, they're really not. i've been single-handedly helping my sister get into comics, specifically Wonder Woman and no matter how simple i make it, i watch her get frustrated trying to understand what pre-Crisis and post-Crisis and New-52 and Flashpoint and all these things mean and what a retcon vs a reboot is and what a Crisis Event is and what the hell Diana's current backstory even *is*. sure, you can give someone a beginner list of comics to start with and slowly dip their toes in the water but sooner or later, *something* is going to confuse them. comics as a medium straight up aren't going to be everyone's cup of tea. and if someone *just* wants to read silly fluffy fanfiction about the Batfamily, i can't entirely begrudge them for not wanting to take the hours and hours out of their day to understand this medium. it's not an accessible medium to get into. "read this and this, but this run is out of print and this run wasn't collected in trades at all but also make sure you read that event in order and this is a good comic but the backstory in it is retconned and you *have* to read this it's so important but it's also really bad because the author kind of sucks" sounds. ridiculous for someone who like. just wants to read some stuff about Nightwing. sometimes, we all make reading comics sort of sound like a chore, not a hobby.

so my point is, i do extend some grace to Batfamily fanon for existing. i think my biggest gripe is, as i said in my other post, misuse of tags (if you're not creating content about comics, maybe you don't need the comics fandom tag on Ao3, just the all media types umbrella tag) and my far bigger gripe: when panels are taken out of context to support fanon only headcanons. if i could impart *anything* onto the Batfamily fandom as a comic fan it'd be this: if you haven't *read* the comic, don't spread the panel. if you don't even know what comic it's *from*, don't spread the panel. it's fine to use comic panels to discuss your headcanons, but so often i see someone spreading a comic panel from a comic they haven't read, and when asked where it's from, they can't source it. a silly example that comes to mind is a post going around, taking a panel where Dick, in his internal monologue goes "here comes the sun. do do do do." and the post is claiming it's from him getting buried alive. when that panel comes from Nightwing (1996) #140, and he gets buried alive in Nightwing (1996) #127, two completely different moments frankensteined together. if you're going to not read the comics, that's completely fine, but unless you're sure of the source and the context, panels shouldn't be spread around. i'm sick of this specifically happening to Red Robin (2009), with ppl claiming Tim has totally killed people because he blew up some of Ra's' bases, when those panels within context, make it clear he gave everyone time to escape. and in a later arc in that very comic, Tim grapples with the idea of murdering Captain Boomerang, and *specifically chooses not to*, because he doesn't agree with murder, even against the person who has hurt him the most. if you'd like to write fanfiction where Tim is pro-murder and has done some sketch things, i'm totally on board and would probably like to read it. but there's no need to pretend it's canon from a few panels you saw out of context.

beyond that, i think it's not *entirely* correct to say that fanon is harmless. whenever i see very WFA-positive posts, they often default to the argument that WFA is fun and silly, and comic fans are killjoys for not liking it. which. i think is complicated because the issue is, WFA and fanon don't exist in a vacuum. if you like WFA power to you, i don't think it's the worst thing ever, but i do think it's degrading to these characters because honestly? they feel incompetent in the webtoon. it's one thing if WFA was solely a slice-of-life sort of deal, just having silly episodes where Bruce is taking on a PTA mom or they're all fighting for the last cookie. but when WFA attempts to take on more serious plots with these characters, it *fundamentally* falls flat in understanding them. i get it, Bruce comforting Jason having a panic attack because a noise reminded him of the crowbar felt cute in a microcosm, but i'm so serious when i say that storyline destroyed how like. half of this fandom understands Jason Todd's relationship to his trauma. it doesn't understand how he reacts when he's triggered, what coping mechanisms he seeks out, and how he would handle Bruce comforting him. even if i can believe for a brief moment Jason *would* be triggered by something like that, him running and trying to hide and then getting a hug from Bruce to make it okay is just. painful. WFA needs everything to be wrapped up in a nice, neat little bow. so even when it starts to tackle interesting concepts, it makes them fall flat with its need to be soft, low stakes, hurt/comfort. there was a two-parter episode that dealt with the complicated mutual hatred/jealousy between Tim and Damian that *almost* really interested me because for once, it felt like the webtoon wanted to explore canon messy dynamics. but of course, it had to be fixed with one conversation and a hug. you don't mend the *years* of issues these characters have like that. WFA isn't in character because these characters are hyperbole cartoonified versions of themselves to fit within the medium and be a cute happy family.

because that right there, is the crux of it. the Batfamily fanon seeks to simplify the Batfamily and force them into a nuclear family. there are so many fantastic posts on here discussing how the nuclear family-ification of the Batfam is eroding decades worth of complex histories so i won't go too far into that. but what i will say is that there's this need, in the Batfamily fandom, for the Batfamily to exist as a unit. they are a *family*. (honestly i think calling it the Batfamily is a misnomer and has been for years but we're in too deep now.) they exist to each other first, and any teams or friends they have come secondary to this family unit. you can *specifically* see this demonstrated in what headcanons are becoming popular these days. i have an entire lengthy meta in my drafts about how i *loathe* the "the Batfamily meets the Justice League" genre of fanfic because it makes no *sense*. in order to have this genre of fic exist, you must operate under the assumption that no one in the League, or adjacent to the League, knows the Batfamily exists and are thus utterly shocked to discover Batman has kids. and to make *that* work, you have to strip *every single Batfamily member* of such important dynamics and friendships so you can lock them all in Gotham for their whole lives. Dick can't have the Titans, Tim can't have Young Justice, Duke & Cass can't have the Outsiders, Jason can't have the Outlaws, Damian can't have the Supersons, Babs can't have the Birds of Prey, and so on. because if they had these relationships, they would be known to the League. the Batfamily fandom doesn't care about this, it's just "silly fanfiction", it's not trying to be serious. but how can you say you like Dick Grayson as a character if you don't understand the Titans *are* his family? at some points of his life, moreso than the Batfamily even is. it is constantly repeated to us in most comics with Dick how much the Titans mean to him. he *needs* them to be who he is. the same extends to every other Batfamily member, most of which have been full League members at this point. but in fanon, that doesn't matter. the Batfamily are a sequestered unit first, and all of those side relationships are secondary and easy to toss away, if it makes your fanfic work better.

and because they have to be a unit first, you have these forced relationships that dump years of actual canon material for the sake of making them get along. the Batfamily fandom has its favorites and well. it's no secret it's usually the boys. Jason and Tim by *far* stand out as fandom faves so, their dynamic is a heavily explored one. it does matter that in canon they don't tend to get along and especially don't see each other as family. what matters is that you can push dynamics onto them. and so fanon gets all twisted up about which Robin Tim actually idolized as a kid (Dick) and what member of the Batfamily is pro-murder but still an older sibling figure to him and looks out for him (Helena, or if you want the dynamic of once tried to harm Tim but they've reconciled, Jean-Paul) in favor of who's the most popular. Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian are always going to be the standouts for popularity, but it's specifically Jason and Tim who are getting fanonized the most. and that's because really, we don't have much canon content of Tim that *isn't* the comics. for Dick you've got Young Justice (tv), for Damian you've got the DCAMU, for Jason you've sort of got the Under The Red Hood movie, but Tim sort of lingers in this limbo. (yes, he's in Young Justce (tv) and Titans (live action) but in neither is he the main character nor given much depth) so, he gets a *lot* projected onto him and has become fanonized. and even with Jason's animated movies, you don't see him interact with Tim, so people build it from the ground up how they want to see it, disregarding of canon comics. i think it's what makes him so popular in the first place- he's malleable into whatever you want or need him to be.

and of course, the fanon ignores other characters in the Batfamily it doesn't know about. i feel like you could create a tier list of Batfamily characters by their popularity, going from the fandom main characters: Tim, Jason, Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Damian. to the underrated: Steph, Duke, Babs, Cass. to the forgotten about unless they're convenient for a story: Kate, the Foxes, Helena Wayne, Carrie, Selina, Harper Row, Maps, Minhkhoa Khan. to the absolutely unknown: Helena Bertinelli, Jean-Paul Valley, Onyx Adams, the Clovers, Julia Pennyworth. it's not lost on me that the ignored characters tend to be women and people of color. which is both a canon and fanon problem, DC will continue adding interesting characters to the Batfamily, play with them for a few years, then drop them to default to the "Batboys" again. and it's a vicious cycle of the fandom only caring about the "Batboys", and thus people entering the fandom via fanon osmosis won't have content about the other characters, therefore, they won't be interested in those characters enough to create it, and it's just this ouroboros consuming itself, no matter how much canon content we have of these other characters. and it's ridiculous just how large the Batfamily is becoming because of this, which is why i'm a pre-Flashpoint fan, because then the Batfamily was contained enough to actually feel like a family with every character having nuances relationships with each other, but i digress because those thoughts could be their own post.

and the thing about fanon is it doesn't exist in a vacuum. DC has started turning the comics to accommodate for what fans are asking for, because fans will beg and beg for content they're not going to consume. Tim Drake: Robin had Tim as a coffee drinker because that's the fanon accepted headcanon. and the resolution of the recent Gotham War arc was for Bruce to buy this new manor for everyone to move in and call him. nevermind that most of these characters have their own homes and have zero reason to be moving in with Bruce. Tim had his marina in Tim Drake: Robin, Dick has Bludhaven, Cass and Steph have their little side of town in Batgirls (2022), and so on. these characters are being forced together as a unit, as one big happy family living together, to appease what non-comic fans want and it's damaging comic relationships. Robin: Knight Terrors saw Jason and Tim team up and working together, which i've seen varying opinions on but i personally despised. their interactions made zero sense for any of their canon history, but it appeases them being this close sibling relationship that fanon acts like they are. also the fears they faced in their respective knight terrors didn't make sense for either character and *only* worked as a moment of bringing them together so they could reassure each other and have this weird dreamscape bonding moment. the canon is bending itself to the will of fanon rather than building on the pre-existing complex relationships. Tim barely even gets along with his most important team in Dark Crisis: Young Justice because it seems the only important relationships the Batfamily can have is with each other. and when we do see them outside of the Batfamily, it only seems to be to relive the glory days like with World's Finest: Teen Titans, instead of developing them as they currently exist. this isn't recent in the comics, it feels like you can trace it back to the New-52, but it does feel a *lot* worse over the recent years. WFA is fine when it exists in its own bubble, but the simple truth is, DC content never exists on its own. the adaptations will reflect back onto the comics. (the damage the Young Justice cartoon has done to some characters should honestly be studied) and so it does frustrate me a bit when fanon-only or adaptation-only fans act like we're being nothing but killjoys for being frustrated with this. since they don't read the comics, they don't see how the comics are suffering as a result of this.

people argue about what's out of character for the comics they don't even read. i'm sorry, but "bad dad Bruce" is consistently canon. that man is just kind of shitty. when you take someone who has the drive he has, who has this need for the Mission first, who needs a teenager in spandex next to him to keep him off the ledge, that guy is sort of going to be a shitty father figure. he just is. not on purpose or with malice, but when you compare him to any other dad in a big DC family, he sure takes the cake. it's why characters like Oliver Queen tend to *really* fucking hate Bruce for how he treats his kids. Bruce loves fiercely, but he doesn't do well with putting that love first. and his love is a controlling one, he is very particular about controlling how others in the Batfamily are "allowed" to operate. it's what drives the wedge between him and Dick, it's why Steph is never a true daughter to him. (besides the reason of her needing to be a love interest to Tim first, anyway-) i've never understood the massive outcry of people reacting to Bruce kinda being shitty in comics they're not reading. there are some moments that get ridiculously OOC with how cartoonishly evil he is (the whole Gotham War arc and that... complicated mess with Jason) but largely if you want sitcom loving nuclear father Bruce, you have to accept that is a fanon thing, not a canon one. the Batfamily being a nuclear family in *general* is fanon. most of the "Batkids" don't actually see Bruce in a particularly fatherly light and begging for moments where he calls them his kids or they call him dad outside of incredibly specific circumstances is just OOC.

it's getting harder and harder to exist peacefully in this fandom it feels like, if you don't comply to the standard fanon has set. i'm happy people are having fun with their blorbos, even if in ways i dislike, but that "harmless fandom fun" does ripple it's way back to canon, eventually. so i end up pretty tangled with my feelings because are fans at fault for DC making these poor decisions? probably not, but it certainly feels like an unfortunate cause-and-effect situation whether at the end of the day, nobody is happy. and of course, i know some fanon-only fans are striving to be more canon accurate and care about canon dynamics more than others, but for them it's always going to be an uphill battle with the above-mentioned out-of-context panels thrown around and ever-pervasive fanon overtaking anything that's truly seeking to be canon compliant. so really, it sometimes feels like we're all losing.

[duke-of-envy]

“Oh, God, you don’t even hear yourself, do you?”

*She snapped, the bitterness in her tone doing its best to cover the way her voice wavered - like anger was her last line of defense. She shook with all the rage she had swallowed for too long, trembling with effort to keep herself from falling apart. The only time to say this was now, even if she felt like collapsing inside she’d get her words out. She’d seize this opportunity by the throat, much like Heather had when this all first started.*

“You say it like there’s no in-between.. like it’s some beautiful tragedy. Kill or be killed. You always had loved the drama.”

*Her eyes finally flicked up to meet Chandler’s, hollow and burning with maddening anger. She was placing her words carefully now, using past tense like a scalpel - sharp, intentional. As if Chandler would catch on to what she’d already decided. Chandler was different now, and she couldn’t go back. No amount of change could fix it. Heather, using words like sacrifice and kill or be killed like some war poet, she sounded exactly the same as the person who tried to fucking kill her. It wasn’t noble, it was undead Heather talking. That cold, blood-hungry version of her that looks at Duke and sees dinner. She took a step back, chest rising unevenly. Wow, Chandler expects me to believe that thing feels guilt? Empathy? She couldn’t even manage that when she was human.*

“I’ve been bleeding out quietly for weeks, Heather. While you played monster and martyr. And I didn’t say a word. I fed you. I let all of this happen. And now you’re acting like I don’t get it? Like I’m the problem because I’m done throwing myself into the fire?”

*Her voice was raw, each sentence wrapped in weaponized agony. Each word precise, perfectly placed with deep consideration as if they came at a cost she couldn’t afford but paid anyway.*

“You think you’re the only one breaking? Because I don’t scream or bite back hard enough? I don’t have anything left to give!”

*She tried to laugh, but it caught in her throat and twisted into something closer to a sob. Her hands were clenched at her sides, white-knuckled, as she move to stare at the floor instead of Chandler.*

“You want me to feel guilty for trying to survive? For not rolling over and handing you my throat like some tragic footnote in your undead meltdown? No. If one of us is gonna be drained, it won’t be because you guilt-tripped me into it.. it’ll be because I chose it. And maybe, just maybe, I’m done choosing you.”

*She spat the words out, but it nearly broke her in half. They came out sharp, but somewhere in the middle her breath caught - like her lungs just forgot what to do. Her knees wobbled. Her vision blurred at the edges. The ache in her bones roared back with full force, and for a second, her voice faltered completely. Her brain screamed just fall, just let go, just sink into her arms and stop pretending you’re anything but prey. Yet Duke clenched her jaw and pushed the next words out anyway, even if they shook. Even if her body leaned forward instinctively - half from dizziness, half from the cruel temptation of Chandler’s cold embrace. She wouldn’t fall. Not yet. Not for her. She stepped forward, trembling, but didn’t flinch.*

“You wanna talk sacrifice? I gave you my neck, my trust - hell, maybe even something close to comfort, at least it’s better than anything you’ve ever given me. And you still act like I’m disposable. So go ahead, pick your poison: kill some people, let me finally walk away! Or maybe, just maybe have an ounce of fucking self reflection for once Heather.”

*Dukes voice in would crack, the last part barely a whisper - too tired to scream, too bitter to plead. The words spilled out like a confession she’d been choking on for days, laced with something softer than rage: heartbreak. She didn’t flinch, didn’t step back. Just stood there, hollowed out, daring Chandler to do it.*

“Go ahead. Bite. Drain me dry. But don’t pretend it’s anything but what it is - you, choosing you, again.”

*There was no venom left in her tone, just exhaustion. The kind that ran deeper than blood loss. The kind that came from holding everything together in her absence - running the school, triumphing the chaos - and still not being enough when Chandler came back. She handed over the crown, practically knelt at the girls feet. She should’ve stabbed the bitch in the neck with a knife - even little nobody Veronica had the courage and self respect to do something about Chandler. Duke had thought things would be different. She had hope that she would be different. That a little sacrifice could bring forth the Heather that maybe valued Duke. But instead, it was just like before. Worse, maybe. Like none of it ever mattered.*

*The fluorescent lights of the bathroom gleamed down on the two of them, Heather Duke and Heather Chandler in a more than vulnerable position. Duke’s knees buckled, and the cold tile dug into her back as she’s pressed against the counter. Her fists are clenched white at her sides, she could never do the intimacy of having her hands be anywhere else, even the idea of having her fingers laced in fancy red fabric that practically burned for her touch felt like a sin. Her head was tilted back as if she was pleading with a god. Except the only god she knew of in this moment was Heather Chandler, the woman who was currently latched onto her neck. Her fangs sunk in deep, and chilled body frozen up against Duke. Chandler bit like she was starving, like Duke was something she hated and wanted just as badly. Her typical slow control, and assertion of power played its devastating hand at tearing Duke down, and it felt as if the bite agonizingly built her back together, piece by broken piece.*

“Oh- my god..Heather. Come on-“

*It came out like a prayer, the perfect whining undertone slipping through her voice. It showed just how unserious about it she was. How maybe she didn’t want it to stop just yet. A vampire, feeding on her, and she didn’t even try to push her off - even if it stung. Even if it fucking drained her of everything she had. She knew she shook and writhed in pain, that it ached and lit her veins on fire in a feeling not much could compare to. She could never trust Heather not to socially crucify her, and yet here she was trusting the undead with her own life. Except maybe in a dark and sick way, it had felt different recently, and maybe, Duke thought, that it meant Chandler was slowly dragging her down to hell with her, one blood drawing at a time.*

*It had become a ritual by now, and she hated how special it made her feel. She knew that the mythic bitch only drank her blood, or maybe she just convinced herself of that - she’d rather live in denial than face the music of Chandler being latched onto somebody else like this. Duke knew it wasn’t for nutrition either, the girl barely ate enough food to sustain herself - much less to have anything substantial in her bloodstream for Heather to feed on. God, maybe she wasn’t enough, and damn it - she should’ve kept down lunch. Maybe it would’ve satisfied Heather, and maybe this wouldn’t happen as often - but Duke knew no matter what happened, at the end of the day she’d be drained, and left feeling empty inside.*

“This is a mess, Chandler.”

*Her voice came out sharp and cracked, like glass under pressure. Everything felt tight and strangled, as she held back a gasp - cold lips pressed against her pulse point like a warning, or an invitation. Her back arched slightly, and she hated how she shook. Her hands moved to grip the edge of the counter behind her, knuckles white, trying to stay upright - trying to pretend this didn’t shatter her from the inside out.*

“Fuck, I should hate this.. you’re messed up- just tell me you’re done, tell me I’m still me-“

*She pushed at the shoulder in-front of her weakly, with no real force, and no power or meaning behind it. Maybe her words meant nothing, or maybe the difference she was starting to feel was taking a toll on her. The sting of Chandler’s icy lips, and her fangs that pierced deeply into her neck burned. Nothing could compare to her first bite, and nothing could compare to the feeling now. She could hear her own heart beat, and it ate at her just like how Chandler was now. It echoed, strong and willing as it pumped around what Heather now considered to be liquid gold through her body. She held back a cry, refusing to give Chandler the satisfaction of seeing her undone.*

*In these fragile moments, Duke opted not to breathe. Chandlers scent choked the air, flanking Duke with every breath of air. Her scent could wake the dead, and suffocate anyone dumb enough to drink it in. Heather was too intoxicating. The girl drew her in - even after drawing blood - and it was a pull too dangerous for Duke to fuel, and something she absolutely forbade the idea of entertaining- even when she felt lost late at night, lying awake without the girl clad in red not pressed coldly against her in a feral feeding liturgy - wondering if maybe she was awake too, itching to come over. Maybe that’s why she always kept her window unlocked, even if the myths were true that vampires need invited it, Heather had already invited herself into Dukes mind and body like a plague. So Heather could go ahead and leave her mark, and leave the patchy bruise that tauntingly dances across her throat, because it never truly mattered what Chandler ever left, because she never left anything good behind.*

< @vqmpchan >

[microclown]

I've been stuck on viewing Maggie as Crowley's mirror, and for most of the show I like that interpretation. But once I started thinking of Nina as Crowley's Mirror in the ball scene specifically, I made a connection....

Aziraphale is playing God here. He has a vision- a happy romantic evening where people speak Victorian English, dress nicely, dance, and fall in love -and he wills everyone present to conform to his plan. But Nina doesn't conform. Nina feels like something isn't right. She asks questions.

She asks Aziraphale what's going on, why she doesn't feel sad when she knows she's sad, and Aziraphale doesn't give her a satisfactory answer. He tells her that the important thing is that she's here. She's here to play a role in his great plan. To dance in his ball.

So she expresses her concerns to Maggie. Maggie hadn't seen the issues at first, but she listens to Nina, and Nina gets her to acknowledge the absurdity of the situation just a little bit. Listen to their conversation at the dance again. It sounds SO MUCH like the conversations we've heard Crowley and Aziraphale have a thousand times during their 6000 year dance. Crowley calling out heaven, asking questions, trying to get Aziraphale to consider the absurdity of it all. Aziraphale mostly defending heaven, but listening, and sometimes acquiescing.

And this all falls in line with a point I've made before - In season 2, Crowley's relationship with Aziraphale begins to mirror his relationship with heaven. Aziraphale shows a pattern of not listening to Crowley the whole season, but especially in this scene. Crowley tries to ask him what is going on, and alert him to very real danger, but Aziraphale is dismissive. He is blinded by his desire to see his plan to fruition.

And just so we're clear, this is not an Aziraphale hate post. Rather, I think it might give us some insight into where God is coming from. Because Aziraphale's actions may be dismissive and controlling, but they are motivated by love. Misguided, certainly, but with all the best intentions. I have a feeling, when we finally meet God, it will be a similar story. And maybe both She and Aziraphale will learn that sometimes to love means to let go.