#over and over chanting Anya

[violetmenace62]

Guys I’m sobbing I was at anime con here in Hong Kong and one of the only Mob Psycho merch available was a sticker sheet featuring Sho and Ritsu next to each other with the caption “𝓑𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼”.

[notelcol]

Blood must have blood.

In which Anya Kom Trikru sends her lover to die.

Warnings : death, explosion

Anya, the leader of Trikru, was a powerful woman. She was also a passionate one. That was one of the many reasons you loved her. You had a special relationship with the warrior since you were children, she would rarely be seen without you near. When Anya decided to begin the attack on Skaikru, she chose you to lead the first wave. Normally she wouldn’t put you at risk in such a way but, with most of their enemies incapacitated by the disease they sent, she was certain this was a sure win.

Adrenaline shook your veins, like the wild vibration of leaves in a storm. Your feet bounced as you stood in a tree, watching over the forest. The coast was clear. You nodded to Tris, Anya’s young mentee. It was time to charge. A roar erupted from your chest and reverberated through the trees, letting everyone else know it was time. Jus dren jus daun.

Your feet hit the floor gracefully with Tris landing next to you. You steadied the girl as she stumbled, her height made the drop a little more intense. She pushed your hands away to save face in front of the older warriors, but gave you a small and grateful smile. The two of you led the charge, the jeers and roars from your brothers in arms got louder and louder as you reached the bridge. Once you crossed this, you would start encountering Skaikru. Your heart thundered in anticipation as you picked up your pace. You had gotten about a third of the way across the bridge when you spotted something. At first it looked like a grey dot, but as you approached you could tell it was a barrel of some sort. You stopped in your tracks when you looked past it and saw a Skaikru warrior, pointing their weapon at the out of place barrel. You realised this must be some kind of trap.

“TRIS!!” You screamed at the girl but she could not hear you over the chanting. Jus drein jus daun.

The others had begun to overtake you not hearing your frantic orders to stop. You pushed them all out of the way, trying to reach Tris. You couldn’t let her be the one to trigger whatever trap Skaikru had laid. Finally you managed to catch the girls wrist but, it was too late. You shielded young Tris with your body as the barrel exploded. The air turned red as flames ravaged your skin and blew the pair of you to the ground beneath the bridge. You heaved in a breath and time stopped. The bricks that were once a bridge, had been flung to the sky. It was as if they were floating up there, never to come down. If only that were true. Suddenly, the suspension was over and gravity brought the bridge back to the ground. Your breath released, in a shaky erratic manner. In an instant your vision faded black with rubble choking your lungs and the echoes still ringing. Jus drein jus daun.

Anya screamed like a banshee as she threw her arms down onto a table, breaking it in two. She had been told how your body was found. Burned and buried under tonnes of rubble, holding a barely alive Tris beneath you. Half of her died with you. All she had to hold on to was the hope, that your final wish came true, that Tris would live. When that too failed, her heart finally broke. The chanting that comfortingly carried you to your grave, would forever live in the place of Anya’s heart.

Jus drein jus daun.

[owl127]

Clexa World Cup one-shot

Read on Ao3

0000

The crowd erupted in uninhibited joy, an energy that gained momentum as it spread like wildfire through tears, hugs, and the raw volume of primal elation.

After 16 years, a new generation brought the national team to a World Cup semi-final.

Lexa’s laughter was loud and unfamiliar, a childish joy taking over her body. Her teammates carried her over their shoulders, an ovation to the hero that found an impossible shot outside the box at 115 minutes. So Lexa smiled, and laughed, and bathed in sticky gatorade until Anya whispered in her ear, “They’re in.”

The speed that Lexa’s expression closed into its usual stoic stare of the “Commander” was so fast that Anya did a double take.

They were in, as expected.

But now Lexa was in, and Anya, and an entire team behind them after a historical comeback against a European powerhouse. 

That meant Lexa would play the game of her life against the love of her life.

0000

“Griffin! Griffin!”

Clarke redid her ponytail as she waited for the reporter to catch up with her at the side of the field. The deafening crowd had slowed after their hard won victory and celebrations of once more being classified for the world cup semi-finals. The reporter, a beautiful redhead that didn’t reach Clarke’s shoulders even on heels, spoke hurriedly into the microphone, “Clarke Griffin, congrats on the victory and classification! You had to work hard today to achieve this!”

“Thank you, and as always, it was a team effort.” Clarke rolled her shoulder, a little stiff after the dive at the end of the second half. “We’re all excited that we’re one step closer to our goal.”

“And how are you feeling about facing Lexa next week?”

Clarke blinked hard, focusing on the little dip of the reporter’s lips as she processed the words. “I, I mean I—”

“Their game went to extra time, and Lexa scored in the second half.” The reporter smelled blood in the water and smirked, the camera missing the glint in her eyes as she said, “You’ll be facing your wife in the semifinal. How do you feel about that?”

Clarke’s shoulder ached.

“My goal remains the same,” she said in a neutral tone. “We always knew that was a possibility, and I will give 100% to my team. Thank you.” She ignored the follow-up questions and headed straight to the tunnel, following the chant of “the champion is back” echoing in their locker room. She distributed high fives with her good arm and looked around until she found dark, worried eyes. Behind the wall of red, white and blue celebration, Clarke whispered to Raven, “Are they in?”

“Yeah,” the physical preparator responded. Raven looked happy, but there was an apprehension in her tone. Her wife had assisted Lexa’s goal, after all. “Lexa. Anya’s assist.” They both chuckled dryly. 

“Fuck,” Clarke whispered. “Okay. I got this. We got this. Right?”

Raven touched Clarke’s sensitive shoulder, frowning when the 6’1” keeper hissed. “Yeah, it’s just our marriages on the line. They will get over the defeat, eventually. How’s the shoulder?”

“Coach won’t let us see them until the game, will he?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Clarke.”

Someone jumped on Clarke’s back, their bubble of privacy bursted with a sharp “whoop!” yelled at her year. 

“Clarke Griffin, our savior!” Octavia hugged her keeper again before jumping down her back. “I thought we were done with that penalty kick!”

“Never.” Today was a day to celebrate. She would worry about her marriage and their game tomorrow. 

And Lexa would be fine. She could handle Lexa.

“Never,” Clarke repeated and shared one last look with a worried Raven.

0000

The press coverage had doubled over Clarke. Avoiding questions was getting hard, so at the press conference after their last practice, Clarke sat down in front of the flashes and microphones.

“Is the fact that Lexa is your wife going to affect your game?” The first question came from the back of the room. Clarke gritted her jaw.

“No. I’m a professional, and so is Lexa, and we will act like it.”

“You and Lexa play different positions, but these past few days, your stories have been compared. How do you feel about that?”

Clarke took a deep breath before answering. “We have unique backgrounds, as a lot of other players from her country and mine do. I acknowledge our privileges, but I don’t discount my team’s talent. This is the World Cup. Nothing else matters.”

“You play on the same team back home and you haven’t played against Lexa since before you were married.” The journalist who asked was the same redhead from after the game, sitting a couple of rows in front of Clarke. “Do you think this time playing against her will weigh on your performance?”

Clarke saw the opportunity and took it. “Nothing weighs on my performance.” She stood up, a clear signal the interview was over. “You can ask Lexa about that.”

The room broke into laughter, and Clarke walked to the back exit. Her hands prickled with sweat.

0000

“Amanda, what a game! No goals on regular time and a thrilling one-on-one in extra time. Now we’re heading for penalties to decide who will move forward to the final. And do you see that line of players there?”

“Oh, I see it, and everyone should know that this goes beyond a historical comeback for the South American team, but involves some of the player’s personal lives too!”

“Tell the fans!”

“You see, Clarke Griffin, the celebrated newcomer goalkeeper, is actually married to Lexa Woods, who won the Ballon d’Or last year, and we’re seeing Lexa lining up to take the last shot.”

“That means that, if it comes to it, Lexa will decide the classification shooting a penalty against her wife?”

“Yes, Peter, that’s exactly what that means! Seems like someone will sleep on the couch tonight!”

“Any bets on who wins this penalty shoot-out?”

“Ontari is a great goalkeeper, but Griffin has solidified her spot as the starter keeper in the team with the best defense in the championship. So my money is on Griffin.”

“Even against her wife?”

“Griffin is a stable player, and she has played against Lexa in their home league before, so yeah, even then.”

“But everything is different in a world cup. My bet is on the latinas. Lexa and Anya have what it takes to bring this new generation to another final. The referee is calling the teams to the center, so it’s about to start! Good luck to both teams!”

0000

Blood pumped loudly in Clarke’s ears. The fans behind her goal yelled all kinds of profanities and slurs, the side strategically chosen when Anya won the coin flip. She ignored the yelling and name calling, her focus on the game, defending two shots, taking both teams to another round of shoot-outs.

She had to admit that Ontari was having the match of her life, and she could also catch two shots, equalizing their numbers. Clarke bit her lip as Harper missed her shot well above the post. The crowd yelled, that unlawful volume powered by revenge. 

Clarke knew they were the team to be beaten, and now it was in her hands to prove that. The referee approached her and said something. She didn’t understand a single word, but assumed it was the usual line warning and nodded, walking to her spot. She opened her arms, glanced forward, saw Octavie cheering her own, the classic “you got this” on her lips.

And then she saw green.

Lexa walked from the middle of the field, looking straight at her, her pace calm and calculated.

The woman walking down the field was not Lexa Woods, her best friend, wife, lover, mother of their girls. 

That was The Commander, the ruthless striker that made her name as the best player in the world after a hard childhood in a country that didn’t care about women’s sports. Lexa had carved her name playing barefoot against boys twice her size while Clarke was being driven to practices in a new, clean SUV. The Commander was forged under fire and criticism against the super-performing men’s team, and each defeat meant a torrent of critics that Clarke herself had never faced. But Clarke had taken the opportunities given her. She had made her name and proven herself. She deserved to be here just as much as Lexa did.

She had defended five of Lexa’s shots throughout the game, and now she was ready to defend one more.

Lexa kissed the ball before adjusting it at the penalty mark, an oddity for the striker. The sound behind the goal died as Lexa took one, two, three steps back, grass staining her cheeks, her brightly colored shirt speckled with mud and sweat.

Clarke grit her teeth and saw the minute shift of Lexa’s hips.

Left.

The referee blew the whistle. Lexa ran for the call with a furious, deadly expression. Clarke jumped. Left, left, left.

Air left Clarke’s lungs as she fell on the grass, the heavy scent of earth filling her nose as she skidded to a stop.

For one moment, there was silence.

Then the crowd behind her exploded, the vibrations of the entire stadium shaking her to her core.

She looked up and looked back.

When she turned her face to the field, Lexa was already back with her teammates, being received with open arms and tears.

Her own teammates had tears in their eyes, too.

She looked back at the ball, now innocently immobile, nested securely inside the net.

“Fuck,” she whispered, her gloved hands clawing the grass, leaving blunt marks.

“Hey.” Octavia had jogged her way to her. “You okay?”

No. She wasn’t okay. Her shoulder burned, her career would be in check as “the woman who crumbled in front of her wife”, her eyes stung, and fuck, she needed a hug from the one person she couldn’t have one right now.

“Yeah.” She lied, stood up. “Sorry.”

“Fuck that. You did great. Next time.”

“Next time.”

0000

 The clicking sound of cleats against the hard floor echoed in the hallway.

A security guard made his way to Lexa, but seeing who she was, he let her go through the back door.

Lexa sighed in relief at the sight of the bus still parked, running and ready to go, but women clad in white suits still boarding it. It was hard to miss Clarke, the tall, strong woman like a pristine marble statue, as she waited at the end of the boarding line.

Lexa, in her muddy uniform, stopped as every single player looked at her. The personal security from the national team made his way to her, but the coach waved him off. No other player made a comment as Clarke stepped away from the line and met Lexa, who remained on the other side of the separating ropes. The media was not there yet; no cameras, no prying eyes besides Clarke’s team.

“Hi,” Lexa said, and she really wanted to wipe away the smile from her face, but it was impossible. They had been celebrating their spot at the final with the crowd, and by the time she could slip away, Clarke was ready to go back to her hotel.

“Hi.” There was a small smile on Clarke’s lips, a little sad and defeated, and Lexa wanted to kiss it away.

“I—”

“Congratulations,” Clarke forced out, shrugging her shoulders. “That was a great shot.”

“Babe, I—”

“I love you,” Clarke cut her. “But… just give me tonight, okay? Tomorrow morning is my last day with the team and I’ll join my mom and the kids at their hotel.”

Lexa swallowed and nodded. There was so much joy within her, but that broken expression in Clarke’s eyes was making it hard to remember why she should be happy at all.

“I love you too.” Lexa extended her hand, a peace offering. Clarke took it, and Lexa pulled her a little closer, kissed her fingers. They were red, taped, and the pinkie was swollen. A goalkeeper’s hand. “Please don’t be mad.”

Clarke barked a laugh and pulled her wife into a hug. Lexa breathed, relieved, burying her face in her wife’s chest. “I’m not mad at you,” Clarke said, but her voice shook. “But I’m a sore loser, you know that.”

Lexa took a deep breath of Clarke’s perfume and grimaced at seeing the mess she made in her wife’s immaculate white suit. “You were always my greatest challenge.”

“We’ll talk again in four years.”

“Griff.” A voice called from behind them, and they turned to see Octavia calling her teammate from the bus, and every single player in the bus watching them from the windows. While Raven waved at Lexa, Octavia flipped her off with a smile. “We gotta go. And you better crush those stupid Germans in the final, Lexa.”

“You bet,” Lexa said and stopped back on her side of the rope. “Family brunch tomorrow? With the girls?”

Clarke nodded, picked up the duffel bag she had left at her feet and leaned to whisper next to Lexa’s ear, “I won’t be gentle next time.” 

Lexa’s cheek warmed with a blush, because she knew exactly what those dark eyes were promising, and it had nothing to do with soccer. Lexa blinked as Clarke pecked her lips and walked back to the bus. It was driving off when she heard cleats behind her. She turned to find Anya cursing at seeing the bus drive away.

“Did you talk to her?”

“Yes,” Lexa answered her captain. “We’re good.”

“So get your head together. We have a title to win.”

“Aren’t you mad you missed Raven?”

Anya shook her head. “Not really. She sent me nudes after the game.”

Laxe chucked, walking back to their locker room. “I can’t believe you too.”

“I bet Griffin already made this whole thing sexual between you two.”

Lexa’s ear burned with heat.

“Called it!” Anya placed her arm around Lexa’s shoulder. “C’mon, Commander. After conquering the world, you can fuck your wife as much as you want.”

There was no ending to Lexa’s blazing cheeks.

“Oh.” Anya’s eyes sparkled with mirth. “I see. The fearless commander is secretly a bottom.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Is that what she tells you?”

“Anya, I swear to god.”

“I promise not to tell your fans.”

[heyiwrotesomethings]

She’s The Housekeeper Prt9: Bond

Yor Briar/ Forger x She/ Her Reader

A/N: Prt8 Alright, here is the last part for the foreseeable future. The first chapter of this story is still my most popular post to date, and it’s so cool to see 800+ notes on something I’ve written. If you managed to stick with me for this long, thank you for your time and support💜! Word Count: ~5,800

Anya ate her breakfast with an extra vigor that morning because today would be the day Loid would take her to the pet shop to find a cute little dog to take home! She inhaled her food so fast, she nearly choked.

“Hey, careful!” (Y/n) cautioned as she pushed Anya’s glass of water closer to her for the little girl to gulp down, “I know you’re excited, but let’s try to avoid having to go to the hospital instead.”

“The dogs aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. You can take your time.” Loid reminded.

“I’m just as excited to look around as you are Miss Anya!” Yor beamed as she put down the burnt omurice she had made, “but please do be careful.”

Anya downed the water and though she was still eating rather quickly, she was pacing herself better than she had a few moments ago.

“Anya is ready to go now!” She declared, sliding off of her chair to fetch her coat.

“Anya, we’re still eating.” Loid called after her, but Anya kept moving, pulling her coat from the rack. Loid sat back in his chair, letting Anya wait by the door. “Are you joining us, (Y/n)? It shouldn’t take terribly long.”

“I wouldn’t mind tagging along.” (Y/n) decided. Maybe she could influence the decision made of what dog they got. Something that was already house trained would be ideal. One that rarely shedded would also be preferable.

“This is going to be so much fun.” Yor hummed, between bite of crispy rice and egg. She offered (Y/n) a bite, and of course (Y/n) had to take it.

“Definitely an improvement over the last one, well done my dear.” (Y/n) praised before downing her water in just a few gulps.

The food really was one of Yor’s better attempts. It was still vile, but (Y/n) didn’t feel like she was in danger of throwing up. (Y/n) wasn’t absolutely insane like Yor’s dear brother Yuri, if Yor’s food made her feel ill, she would simply excuse herself to the bathroom to take care of it, not smile and try to clear the plate faster than she could vomit. (Y/n) shuddered at the memory. The Briar siblings were not normal.

“Woof! Woof! Woof!” Anya chanted from the hallway. She simply couldn’t wait any longer, they were wasting precious daylight!

“Let us do the dishes at least, then we will go, Anya. Be patient.” Loid began gathering plates while (Y/n) and Yor went to the sink to wash and dry.

Anya felt like she could explode from the anticipation, but finally all three adults had put away the dishes and put on their coats and they were heading out the door.

“Woof! Woof! Woof!” She barked again, swinging Yor’s hand in hers. “Papa,” she asked, turning back to look at Loid, “Do doggies like peanuts?”

“You probably shouldn’t give them too many. It might not be good for them.” He replied, making Anya pout.

“That leaves more peanuts for you, Miss Anya.” (Y/n) provided helpfully, making her smile again.

“Oh, is this the shop right there?” Yor asked.

“That’s it.” Loid confirmed, going ahead of them to open the door for everyone.

Inside were the most fucked up looking dogs that (Y/n) had ever seen. Anya looked severely unsettled and (Y/n) couldn’t say she blamed her.

“Is… is that one flexing?” She asked Yor in a concerned whisper.

“What do you think, Anya?” Loid smiled, “Do you like any of these dogs?”

“No.” Anya wasted no time saying.

“R-really?” Loid’s eye twitched.

“Are you really surprised, Loid? I mean, look at them.” (Y/n) shuddered.

She did have a point… Guess they would have to go to the shelter event instead. A person caught his eye from the back room, flashing him a signal. Now really wasn’t a good time, but if Handler was calling, it must be important.

“Augh!” Loid cried out, clutching his stomach.

“Loid? What’s wrong?” (Y/n) asked, startled by the outburst.

“I, I need to use the restroom! You all can go, I’ll meet you at the shelter.”

“Are you sure you’re alright? We can wait.” Yor offered.

“Papa takes a long time when he goes to the shitter to shit, so we should probably go.” Anya bluntly explained.

“I see…” Yor blushed.

“Eugh, Miss Anya, we didn’t need to know that.” (Y/n) shivered in disgust, “Also, watch your language.”

“Yes, watch your mouth young lady.” Loid echoed before running off to deal with his… ‘problem’.

“Well, guess we should get going then.” (Y/n) decided.

“Yes!” Anya skipped to the door with (Y/n) and Yor following close behind.

Before long, the sidewalks became more congested and the unmistakable sounds of animals flooded the air.

“So this is the adoption event. Wow, it’s even bigger than I imagined!” Yor gushed.

“Yeah, it seems like Loid should’ve brought us here first.” (Y/n) observed.

Puppies, kittens and bunnies! They seemed to have every furry household pet under the sun! Anya ran haphazardly to look into every crate and enclosure she could find.

“Don’t run around Miss Anya, you’ll get lost!” Yor warned.

“Promise us you won’t leave this area with the dogs, okay?” (Y/n) asked.

“Okay…” Anya deflated a bit, but that was fine, there were so many cute doggies to look at and she would get to take one of them home!

The trio walked up to an enclosure together and Yor squeaked with excitement, grabbing (Y/n) by the arm and shaking her around.

“Look at that dachshund’s cute little legs!” She cooed, making (Y/n) smile.

Anya was overwhelmed by all the cuteness. She couldn’t possibly choose just one. They were all so sweet! Standing by the window, something large and white caught her eye, and she turned to see it more clearly, feeling a possible connection with whatever that may be.

(Y/n) and Yor were going over their top picks when one of the ladies working the event approached them offering assistance. (Y/n) and Yor took up the conversation, distracting them from Anya’s sudden disappearance.

“Are there any breeds that are easier to clean up after?” (Y/n) asked.

“Poodles rarely shed, so cleaning up after them is a breeze.” The friendly lady shared.

“You don’t say.” (Y/n) perked up, making Yor smile.

“Or there are smaller breeds, Shih Tzus are very friendly.”

While (Y/n) and Yor were engrossed with the woman’s abundant information, they failed to notice Anya slink outside to follow the shady man and the big white dog she had seen through the window. By the time they had stopped talking with the woman and thanked her for her suggestions, Anya appeared to be long gone. (Y/n) looked up to find her in the crowd, but could not see her anywhere within the dog section and her heart began to rise to her throat.

“Yor,” (Y/n) alerted, grabbing her partner’s arm, anxiety already slipping into her tone, “Do you know where Anya is?”

Yor snapped to attention, scanning all around, a familiar sense of dread pooling in her stomach. She did not like the trend that seemed to be forming every time she let Anya out of her sight or reach for but a few minutes every time they went out in public.

“I- I don’t—“ Yor swallowed thickly, her feet traveled on autopilot, “Miss Anya? Where did you go?!” She called out, a static buzzing growing steadily between her ears.

“I’ll look for her in the kitten section!” (Y/n) yelled after her before running off in a different direction, but she was not heard.

Between the two of them, they must have asked everyone in the event hall if they had seen the little girl, each growing more and more desperate with every shake of a head they received.

Upon getting her latest negative sighting, Yor felt unshed tears burning the corners of her eyes. This was the aquarium all over again, but worse! She turned, expecting to see (Y/n) there, ready to give her a hug and to let her know everything would be alright, but of course she wasn’t there.

Yor had already been so tense and her brain had been so focused on looking for Anya, she had somehow lost her dear (Y/n) along the way! Now she began to really freak out, completely overwhelmed by the crowded venue and the noise pitching around and within her.

Something in her that was already tense, snapped and she jumped up, kicked off of a nearby pillar, and expertly braced herself on the ceiling so she could search from above. Her breathing uneven, she drowned out the noise of the crowd below. She didn’t see Anya. Anya wasn’t there, not even a trace, and that terrified her.

What if she had been eaten by a dog?! No, Yor managed to stop that train of thought. That was unlikely. Someone would surely have noticed something like that. But what if she had been kidnapped again like when they had gone to the aquarium, or when they had gone grocery shopping! What if (Y/n) had been taken too!

An awful image of her beloved and her adopted daughter being carted away by despicable men to be married off to even more vile and cruel men consumed her vision, but then she found a small light, a familiar splash of color, she saw (Y/n) in one of the far corners of the venue, a strange man looming over her.

Without another second of delay, she skillfully swung from the pipes above and dove between them from the ceiling, startling the man enough to make him yelp. Yor prepared to uppercut him into the sun next, to see what kind of sound that would make, but instead (Y/n)’s hand quickly shot out to grasp her bicep and pull her back. Confused, Yor allowed her.

“Where the hell did you come from lady?” The man blinked, bug-eyed, mouth agape.

“She’s the mother. As you can see, she’s worried sick. If you see her little girl, please do not hesitate to let us know.” (Y/n) beseeched, pulling Yor back a bit more to try to knock her out of whatever murder-y thoughts were fogging up her mind.

“Yeah… of course.” The man gave them a weird look then began walking briskly away.

(Y/n) turned to hold both of Yor’s biceps, pressing her thumbs into the fabric of her coat’s sleeves to try to put pressure on the tense muscles beneath.

“Hey, try to breathe, okay? What’s the matter? Besides the obvious.” She cooed.

Yor sobbed, slamming her head hard against (Y/n)’s chest, making a deep thunk sound that rattled (Y/n)’s insides.

“Oof!” (Y/n) winced, but held Yor all the same, rubbing her back comfortingly.

“I- I can’t find Miss Anya! A-and I thought you had gotten taken too!”

“Honey,” (Y/n) murmured, giving a, ‘mind your own business’ smile to anyone who dared curiously look their way, “I told you I would look for Anya over here. You must not have heard me.”

“I guess not.” She sniffed.

“I’m okay. Now take some deep breaths. It’s clear that Anya isn’t in here, we need to go find her, but we can’t be snapping the neck of anyone whose just going about their day.”

Yor made a pitiful sound, but cut herself off halfway through, almost knocking heads with (Y/n) from how quickly she brought her head up.

“What…!” (Y/n) began to ask, but she heard it then too, that sounded like Anya outside!

And she was outside! They could see her through the window! She was barreling down the street… on top of a big, fluffy white dog.

Yor took (Y/n)’s hand and began sprinting in the direction the dog had ran off in. It was a brutal pace, one that (Y/n) couldn’t keep up with and when she tried to communicate to Yor that she would catch up. Yor was having none of it and scooped (Y/n) up into her arms, making quite the spectacle as they zoomed around the people walking by. It hardly mattered to Yor. She wasn’t going to risk losing (Y/n) for real by leaving her behind.

“Down that alley!” (Y/n) pointed.

“Right!”

(Y/n) braced herself, this was the side of her career that she was not trained for, but when they saw a strange man reaching for Anya in the alley, she still let Yor take her by the arms and spin her at a dizzying pace before finally being launched towards Anya.

(Y/n) sailed over the shocked kidnapper’s head, took hold of Anya’s hands, and catapulted her into the air. While Anya was airborne, (Y/n) sprung off of her hands when she hit the ground and flipped into an upright standing position just in time to catch Anya and see Yor smash her foot into the kidnapper’s face.

Yor fell into place beside (Y/n) so that Anya was between them, protected on either side. Anya couldn’t have looked more relieved to see them, looking between them with visible awe and joy.

“You won’t get away with this, Mr. Perverted Kidnapper,” Yor spoke in a measured tone, glaring at the remaining man who had his jaw hanging open, “It is much too early for Miss Anya to get married!”

“Married?” (Y/n) cocked her head to the side. Just what kind of scenarios was Yor imagining?

The gravity of the situation seemed to catch up to Anya then, because she began to cry, grasping onto the coats of both women she wailed,

“Mama! I was so scared!”

“Don’t worry, you’re all right now.” Yor comforted.

“We’ve got you.” (Y/n) assured, wiping Anya’s tears.

Kieth clenched his teeth. Which one was the mother? Ah, it didn’t matter. They’d all have to die if he was going to succeed in his plans.

“Dog! Rip their throats out!” He commanded.

The German Shepherd beside him began to approach, snarling, but then Yor gave one of her most terrifying expressions to date and growled right back with startling ferocity. The dog whimpered pathetically and turned tail, running out of the alley as fast as he could.

“Coward!” Kieth yelled after him.

“Bwah! Mama, I’m scared!” Anya bawled, hiding her face in (Y/n)’s coat, keeping Yor out of her sight.

“Hm? But you’re safe now?” Yor frowned, perhaps not realizing just how frightening her face had been jus a moment before.

“Don’t worry Anya, if that man thinks he can take you from us he has another thing coming!” (Y/n) promised, her mind filled with thoughts of fire and acid.

Yeah, Anya was glad to have those two on her side because they were honestly terrifying.

Voices began to be heard near the mouth of the alley and Keith cursed. All that noise had alerted people from the street, and now they were coming to investigate!

“Come on, come on you stupid mutt!” He hissed at the remaining dog, the big and fluffy white one. He tugged and tugged at the dog’s leash, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Damn worthless beast!” He kicked the dog in anger and fled the scene empty handed.

“He’s getting away!” Yor groaned, but she stood firmly at (Y/n)’s side. There was already one kidnapper she needed to properly detain and she didn’t want to leave (Y/n) and Anya for even a second.

Just how long is Loid going to stay in the bathroom? She mourned internally. His stomach was probably revolting from the breakfast she had made!

“Mr. Dog are you okay?” Anya asked, running up the the dog once (Y/n) put her down.

“Ah, careful Miss Anya! You shouldn’t run up to dogs you don’t know.” (Y/n) warned, trying to stop Anya from going any further.

“Mr. Doggie is no stranger. He saved Anya.” Anya put her hands over her heart, looking over to the dog with gratitude.

“Where did this dog come from, Miss Anya?” Yor asked.

Anya took a deep breath, that question required a very big answer.

“Terrorist bomb dogs?!” Yor blanched.

(Y/n) got on her knees and thoroughly searched the fluffy dog for bombs. Thankfully, there weren’t any. She sighed in relief and gave Yor a shaky thumbs up.

“Anya is sorry for running off without permission…” Anya mumbled, grabbing the hem of her coat between her fingers while she kept her eyes firmly on the ground.

“We’re just glad that you are safe.” (Y/n) knelt to the ground to hug Anya.

“We were so worried about you.” Yor chimed, following her partner to the ground.

“But expect a stern talking to when we get home.” (Y/n) warned.

Anya pouted, but nodded in acceptance and the three, plus the dog, walked out of the alley, tied up kidnapper dragging behind Yor.

They called the police on a nearby public phone to explain the situation, during which Anya suddenly grew restless, shaking the dog.

“Anya don’t be rough with the doggie.” Yor scolded lightly before her attention was brought back to the receptionist on the phone.

“Mama, Mama, sorry, Anya just remembered something. Papa forgot to take toilet paper with him to the potty!” The little girl yelled out of the blue.

“Huh?”

“What?”

(Y/n) and Yor stared on, frozen, as Anya leapt onto the dog’s back and urged him into a run.

“He might be in trouble so I have to go get some from home!”

“Anya, wait!” Yor called, reaching out the hand that wasn’t currently cradling the receiver.

“She’s running off again!” (Y/n) yelled in disbelief, finally sprinting after the blob of pink and white as they rounded the corner.

“W-wait! What about the police?” Yor called after her.

“We told them all we could! Just hang up and leave that guy there, he won’t wake up anytime soon! Let’s go before we lose Anya again!”

“Ah, okay!” Yor rose the receiver back to her ear, “I’m leaving the kidnapper by this phone booth! I have to go now, bye!” She hung up the phone and caught up with (Y/n) before she rounded the corner.

They searched every block, every street within half a mile. (Y/n) finally came to a stop, resting heavily on the guardrail of the bridge they had been speed-walking across.

“Darling, are you alright?” Yor’s voice was laced with worry. She could tell that (Y/n) was breathing quite hard.

“I’ll be okay, I just need a minute.” She wheezed. God, cardio sucks.

While (Y/n) tried not to keel over on the bridge, Yor paced back and forth. The only trace that she had been running at all was the light layer of sweat on her rosy face.

“What if she gets found by the terrorists again? I can’t let that happen!” Yor fretted.

“Maybe she went back to the pet shelter?” (Y/n) suggested between breaths. “At the very least, maybe Loid is finally there?”

Before Yor could speak, a loud honk of a horn and a sharp squeal of tires interrupted her. The scent of burnt rubber permeated the air. Looking down from the bridge, the women saw a car speeding recklessly down the road.

The light caught the windshield just right, allowing Yor to see an unwelcomingly familiar face. The other man who tried to kidnap Anya!

“Him again? How dare he try to take Miss Anya and run away! You won’t get away this time!” She declared, then jumped off of the bridge.

“Yor!” (Y/n) yelled. She tried to reach out for her, but she was too slow. Her hands snapped right to her eyes. Covering them from whatever was about to happen. “Pleasebeokaypleasebeokaypleasebeokay—“

An awful crashing noise reverberated within (Y/n)’s ears and she cautiously lifted her face from her hands. Below, she could see that Yor looked unscathed, thank the stars, but the car looked as if it had been t-boned before crashing into a lamppost.

(Y/n) hobbled down the hill to meet Yor on the street and flung her arms around her, a gesture that was always eagerly returned.

“Are you hurt?”

“Nope!” Yor smiled, “Kicking the car did make my leg feel a little tingly though.”

“My indestructible tank, I love you.” (Y/n) sighed, looking back at the crushed car. “We’ll have to call the police… again.”

They quickly relayed the location of the car and hung up before the responder could ask any follow-up questions. Then they were off to continue their search for Anya.

It was near sunset when they saw Loid walking down the sidewalk towards them. They opened their mouths in a rush to tell him that Anya had run off on a dog, but said girl and dog appeared from the alley between them and they instead slumped over each other in relief.

“What are you three doing here?” Loid asked, “I’m surprised to find you so far from the shelter.”

“Anya was coming to give papa toilet paper.”

“Ah.”

“She ran off on us. Twice.” (Y/n) informed, resting most of her weight against Yor. Now that Anya was with them once more, the exhaustion of running around all day was really starting to get to her.

“Did she now…” Loid looked down at Anya disapprovingly, finally truly noticing the dog beside her. “And who is the dog?

“That is actually quite the story.” Yor rubbed at her cheek with a sheepish smile and retold the events of the day. (Y/n) would occasionally chime in, but ultimately she was too tired to try to censor anything Yor was saying. Somewhere in her brain she knew they probably shouldn’t talking about taking down terrorists without much trouble, but again she was too tired to care.

“I’m sorry all that happened while I was in the bathroom.” Loid finally said, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

“Yeah, you were gone all day. Have you considered seeing a doctor, because that is not at all normal.” (Y/n) spoke in a teasing tone, but there was a notable hint of concern in the way her eyebrows scrunched together.

“It was probably because of what I made for breakfast.” Yor bemoaned.

“It has to be something else. The rest of us survived.”

Loid, wanting to put his day long trip to the ‘bathroom’ behind him, began to address Anya and her penchant for running off.

“How many times do I have to tell you to not run off on your own. You could have been seriously hurt!” He yelled, making Anya flinch.

“Anya is sorry!” She sniffled, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

Loid immediately softened, falling to one knee before her, “I’m sorry for yelling. I was just worried. You aren’t hurt at all though, right?”

Anya shook her head, putting a hand on the fluffy dog beside her. The fur nearly swallowed up her hand.

“Mr. Dog protected me.”

Loid smiled at the dog, petting him gently, “Thank you.”

“Excuse us,”

The family turned to see a woman and a man in suits approaching them from across the street,

“We’re investigating an incident near City Center. We understand that this was one of the dogs involved in the incident.” The woman said. “Please hand him over to us. He’ll be in good hands.”

“Of course. Thank you.” Loid tipped his hat, motioning them towards the dog.

“Now we can go back to looking for a puppy!” Yor beamed excitedly.

“Is the shelter even still open?” (Y/n) almost hoped it wasn’t. She wanted to shower and then spend the next several days in bed. She was already dreading how sore she was going to be tomorrow.

“Come on, Anya. Let’s go take a look.” Loid reached for her hand, but Anya pulled away.

“No! Anya wants Mr. Dog!” She said, stepping between the officers and the dog.

Loid shook his head. “He was owned by bad guys.”

“He saved Anya!” The esper refuted.

“You said you wanted a small dog.” Loid crossed his arms, peering down at his fickle adopted daughter.

“But Anya wants Mr. Dog now, it’s okay that he is big!” Anya continued to argue, hugging the dog close.

“Anya please,” Loid pinched the bridge of his nose, “Stop being so difficult.”

“If papa doesn’t let me have Mr. Dog, Anya will go bad and stop going to school!” Anya’s lip wobbled and then she began to cry.

“Wh— what are you saying?!” Loid sputtered.

“It’s okay, Miss Anya! Please don’t cry!” Yor beseeched.

“There are a lot of nice dogs in the world! I’m sure you’ll find another who is just as sweet…” (Y/n) attempted to console, but she knew that trying to get Anya to change her mind would be impossible at this point. She did just spend the whole day with this dog after all.

“Very well.” The woman conceded, leaving Loid particularly surprised.

“What?!”

The woman chuckled, then couched in front of Anya, a bittersweet smile on her lips.

“The dog itself didn’t cause any harm. If you promise to take good care of him, he’s yours, but we will need to keep him for the night to check his health first.” She explained softly.

“Are you protecting the other doggies too?”

“They are sleeping in the softest of beds and eating warm, yummy food.” She nodded.

“Thank you very much, important lady.”

The woman’s smile tugged a little further, “You’re welcome.” She stood back to her full height, turning to Loid. “We shall make contact with you tomorrow.“

“Thank you. Sorry for the trouble.” Loid bowed his head.

“No trouble at all. Have a good night.”

And so they began their trek home. Anya and Yor were particularly pleased with themselves because of the parts they played in saving the city from terrorists. (Y/n) and Loid on the other hand were exhausted.

“Why do you look like that?” (Y/n) had asked him pointedly. “I know it isn’t easy being… ill, all day, but I’ve been running around the city for hours and I still look better than you.”

“Do you really want to know?” Loid asked with a wry smile, his eye twitching in aggravation. If only they knew what he had really been up to all day!

“No.” (Y/n) shook her head quickly, “No, I really don’t want to know. Forget I said anything.”

After a night of the deepest sleep that any of them had ever experienced, morning soon came, and with it, a large and fluffy white dog.

“So curious!” Yor giggled, watching the dog sniff around the living room.

“Anya wants to stay home to play with Mr. dog today.” Anya said hugging the dog tightly.

“I believe the deal was that you wouldn’t stop going to school if you got this dog.” Loid said after spitting his toothpaste in the sink. “Get ready for school.”

“Does Anya at least get a Stella for helping stop the bad guys?” She asked. That would help put her in a better mood about going to school.

“I’m afraid not, Anya. No one is supposed to know about what was going to happen because it would just cause fear and panic. You have to keep it to yourself or the police might need to come and take you away.”

“Shock!” Anya flinched. She couldn’t let that happen, but it certainly was a disappointment that she couldn’t tell anyone.

“Loid!” (Y/n) gasped from the other room, “Don’t phrase it like that, you’ll scare her!”

Loid rolled his eyes at his reflection in the mirror and Anya began getting ready to go to school, pouting all the while.

“Have a good day at school Miss Anya!” Yor waved. “(Y/n) and I will take good care of Mr. Doggie while you’re away.”

“I’ll do my best.” (Y/n) called from the couch. Even raising her hand to wave goodbye to Anya hurt. Her whole body felt stiff and sore from the whole ordeal yesterday while it appeared to be just another normal day for Yor.

Anya and Loid said their goodbyes and then it was just (Y/n), Yor and the curious new addition to the family.

“Yor, darling, would you make me some ice packs.” (Y/n) groaned while she moved to lay flat on the couch.

“Of course! My poor, sore heart!” Yor cooed. She cupped (Y/n)’s cheek and leaned down to kiss her forehead before heading to the kitchen.

While (Y/n) waited for Yor’s return, the dog took notice of her and began to lumber up to her.

“Hello, getting used to your new home?” (Y/n) asked him.

The dog sniffed her hand, then slowly hoisted himself up onto his hind legs by placing his front paws on the edge of the couch.

“Ah, wait. No, don’t come up here— dog! No! Down! Oof!”

(Y/n) couldn’t stop the dog from laying flat across her sore body. It was a warm, and an almost comforting weight, but in the state (Y/n) was in currently, she didn’t find it entirely enjoyable, but it was kind of cute.

“Honey, did you say something…?” Yor walked back into the room, her arms filled with industrial bags of ice that she got from who-knows-where. Her eyes fell on the dog and she pouted, “That was going to be my spot, Mr. Doggie.”

“Yor, help me get him off. He’s too heavy.”

Yor did as she was asked, dragging the dog back to the floor.

“I apologize, Mr. Doggie, but (Y/n) is sore from running around yesterday. Surely you understand.” Yor then promptly dropped the giant bags of ice onto (Y/n)’s body.

“Not quite what I had in mind, but thah, thank you.” (Y/n) shivered.

The dog was undeterred by the upheaval and soon climbed his way back onto the couch, sinking between the bags of ice.

“My, perhaps he is sore too!” Yor observed. “Poor thing.”

(Y/n) sighed. She couldn’t find it within herself to make Yor push the dog away a second time. Perhaps she should feel special because the dog seemed to like her already, but her body was not appreciative of the extra pressure at this time.

“Would it help for me to massage your calves?” Yor asked thoughtfully. “Mr. Dog isn’t covering those up.”

(Y/n) mulled it over. Typically, a massage from Yor would be nice as long as she didn’t push too hard.

“I think that sounds nice, just be gentle please.”

“I will, I promise!”

And she really was. Yor did a great job, so wonderful in fact, that the combination of the frigid melting ice, the warm, weighted blanket of a dog, and the soothing massage knocked (Y/n) right out.

She was rudely awakened hours later when the dog clumsily leapt off of her to jump into Anya’s arms when she got home from school.

“Welcome home!” Yor smiled, clasping her hands to rest them against her cheek, “Oh my, such good friends already! He must have missed you!”

“Save me! He’s eating me!” Anya gasped while the dog slobbered all over her.

“He seems to have a lot of pent up energy. We should take him for a walk.” Loid suggested. He looked over to (Y/n) laid limply across the couch and smirked, “Care to join us, (Y/n)?”

“Not today.” (Y/n) deadpanned, ever so slowly lifting herself into a sitting position. “You all go on ahead. I’ll start getting dinner ready.”

“Are you sure? I could stay an help.” Yor volunteered.

“I’ll be fine,” (Y/n) assured, “Go have fun at the dog park.”

(Y/n) shuffled through the kitchen like an old woman, slowly preparing dinner. Though she could be prideful at times, she was actually surprised that she had dinner mostly completed before the Forger’s returned home.

“I hope they haven’t ran into anymore trouble.” She murmured to herself as she finished setting the table. She walked to the armchair this time around when she finished her self imposed task. She hissed through clenched teeth as she lowered herself into the plush chair.

She then decided she would never run again, maybe never even walk. She didn’t care if it would look strange, she was going to have Yor carry her everywhere from now on and if she knew anything about her love, she would be happy to do it too.

Finally, the front door opened and the Forger’s piled inside.

Anya ran up to (Y/n) all excited, “Mama, I know what to name Mr. Dog!”

“Do you? What is it?” (Y/n) thought Mr. Dog was the name already, but she was curious to hear what else Anya had come up with.

“Wait just a minute!” Anya asked.

She bounced excitedly when Loid came back from the short trip to his room, a black ribbon of fabric in hand. He deftly tied the fabric around the dog’s neck and once he stepped away, (Y/n) saw he had looped it into a bow tie.

“Behold!” Anya flung her arms out in the direction of the dog happily thumping his tail against the floor. “Bond!”

“Oh, like Bondman.” Loid understood. “That should work just fine.”

“Boof!” Bond leapt at Anya, sending her to the floor in a flurry of licks and wiggly wags that made Anya laugh.

“He seems to like it.” (Y/n) smiled fondly.

“They’re so cute!” Yor cooed.

“Come, Bond! Let me show you around the hideout!”

“Anya, it’s dinner time. And don’t forget you need to study. afterwards.” Loid warned.

“Anya will study later, promise.”

Loid’s eye twitched, but he relented.

After dinner, Anya fed Bond. She filled his bowl to the brim and watched him begin to chow down.

“Try not to give him too much.” Loid cautioned as he walked by, a towel under his arm. “I’m going to take my bath now, but I expect you to be studying by the time I’m done.”

Anya pouted and Loid walked to the bathroom. Curious, Anya took a kibble from Bond’s bowl and nearly popped it into her mouth before (Y/n) called out her name.

“Miss Anya, please don’t eat anything meant for a dog.” (Y/n) shivered in disgust as she scrubbed the dishes nearby.

“I know it must look tempting, but take it from me, it is not as good as it looks.” Yor helpfully added.

“I don’t want to know if that is coming from a place of experience or not.” (Y/n) said, but the shy laugh Yor gave was damning.

Soon after he finished his meal, Bond began to wiggle uncomfortably and Anya took notice.

“Need to go potty? Here, I’ll show you where to go.” Anya led him to a wide tub lined with newspaper. “When nobody can take you outside, you go in here. If you go anywhere else, mama will get mad cause she like things tidy.”

After business was taken care of, Anya and Bond played all over the apartment. (Y/n) wanted to remind Anya about her studies, but she couldn’t bear to break up the fun. It was Bond’s first day home, and Anya hardly got to see him before she had to go to school. A little more playtime couldn’t hurt.

(Y/n) and Yor watched them play, losing track of time. And when Loid returned from his bath, they showed him the cute little girl and her dog curled up together and fast asleep.

The studying could wait until tomorrow, Loid supposed.

[imnothawkdevil]

Cannot get over Joey's poses here like. Henry, Anya, and Freya were standing there totally normal, then he's just there like

Bonus mention to the crowd chanting "I love you", his Jaskier-esque kiss and wave at someone in the crowd at the start, his multilingual greeting, and Henry dressing like a middle-aged mechanic with too many kids.

Source: Tudum 2023 (1:28:40)

[tare-anime]

Finally I finished reading Eyes Only the english translations.

The highlight of this book for me? Endo and Lin's commentary 🤣🤣🤣👏👏

It is very interesting to see that I get the impression that out of all Forgers, Endo loves Yor the most (but it's highly probable that I'm biassed. Duh!!)

I mean, we know that Endo loves strong female - fighting heroines. Especially if we look at Endo's previous works. Like the two serialization: Tista and Gekka Bijjin. Both has strong female heroines as the leader. And then, his one shots also featured female leads. Perhaps only his latest one shots: Ishi ni Usubeni (the one with Medusa kid which later become Anya's prototype) and I spy (the prototype of spy x family) that featured male character as leads.

No wonder Endo can creates so many amazing female characters in spy x family. (Not that the sxf male characters are bad. Far from it!)

But it warm my heart when Endo shows that Yor was the longest he took in creating the character design. (And I also notice that Endo loves to draw Yor in so many cute outfits and accessories 🥰 and also seems to get hurt the most for my whumpy needing souls delightment #ahem)

At the same time, the badass yet cute and naive Yor is the one character that he got trouble the most to develop!

I still remember back then, when we were still at chapter 38-39 ish, Endo did have more breaks than usual, chapters that is focuses on side characters like Damian, Bond, Yuri, Sylvia (short mission), Frankie, all that make the small fandom fans 'restless' for the "too many fillers chapters"

And then there was a tweet of him telling the fans to be patient, because he was planning something.

And then, BAM!! Chp. 43 dropped. A Franky and Yor chapter, that end with Yor getting a call from Shopkeeper. Yes, the chapter we just got the anime episode (ep. 29!)

The small fandom at that time was going ferall over "Garden" name drop. And keep chanting "Yor arc Yor arc Yor arc Yor arc!!"

And then BAM!!! We got one of the best arc ever: Cruise Arc.

With that one gorgeous Yor ilustration that make the small fandom around the world decided 4-6th April to become Yor's day. On the spot.

It's one amazing experiences, ngl.

So if one asked me whether Yor has been pushed to the back, I dare say no.

It's just writing an interesting assassins plot is difficult.

Especially in a story where everything is grey.

WISE is described as the "good" guy who tries in all their might to stop the war. (But are they really? Why are they snooping around inside other country? And why are they badmouthing Ostania?)

SSS is described as the "bad" guy cause they oppressed their own people and manipulate young energetic talent as Yuri to serve them. (But what if it is needed to keep 'peace' from the rebels which of course can be found everywhere in a freshly stopped war country?)

A good story can work with two opposing sides going head to head.

But then there's Garden. Where are their position? A story about three way "war" can be difficult to tell, overly complicated, and too much. On one side, Garden can't be the "good" side because they murder people. But they can't be "bad" either if the people they murder are the bad guys. However who to tell which one is good which one is not?

And most important, how to make Yor as a protagonist that is not a villain.

That's hard.

So, judging from the past experiences (when Endo took more breaks than usual), plus this amazing detail analysis by @itsmaferart, I dare say Endo is cooking another Yor or Garden centric arc, after the Eden and SSS vs WISE.

I have high hope for this. 😁😁😁😁

So we shall wait and see.....

Tldr; I think Endo loves Yor. He is preparing for something awesome for her. and I'm not complaining. 🤣🤣🤣🤣

[punchdrunkdoc]

Part 3, Chapter 4

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness?

Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 3 (maybe 4??) parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

Reference pics

————–

PART 3

Chapter 4

I’m a good person; I’m worthy of love.

I’m a good person; I’m worthy of love.

Those eight words became Calina’s silent mantra. She recited them to the mirror as she brushed her teeth in the morning. She chanted them on her daily six-mile run. They were the soundtrack to her sparring matches with her sisters, and the echo she fell asleep to at night.

She hoped that if she repeated them often enough, the sentiment would start to penetrate.

And it was…maybe…starting to work.

Her guilt about Italy had definitely started to wane, at least - thanks to her talk with Katya. Somehow, the act of just voicing what she felt had helped lessen the sting of that particular emotion.

Which probably explained why so many people went to therapy.

Calina knew she’d probably benefit from a few sessions with a trained professional, but it wasn’t exactly practical in their current situation. So in the meantime, she’d continue with her mantra and try to believe the words.

I’m a good person; I’m worthy of love.

The task to bring down Volkov was also helping. She and the other Widows took shifts surveilling the footage from the cameras planted in the Jersey warehouse, and the mind-numbing hours spent watching the black and white footage provided a nice distraction from her negative thoughts. 

And then, less than a week later, they got the evidence they needed.

The whole group sat around the dining room table reviewing the scenes that Viktoria had alerted them to during her turn at the monitor. They watched as lab equipment and various chemicals were delivered to the property. They watched as men in protective coveralls sterilised volumetric flasks and set up distillation kits on newly constructed worktops. And they watched as soldiers in tactical gear started patrolled the site at night.

Volkov’s operation was underway.

The mood around the table was less jubilant than expected. Even though they had the confirmation they wanted, the tangible proof of Volkov’s plan for them was sobering.The chemicals being mixed and the serum being manufactured was meant for them. Meant to control them and subjugate them and turn them back into mindless killers.

“Can you turn it off, Anya?” Katya asked. “I think we’ve seen enough.”

“Yeah,” Sofia agreed. She rubbed her brow as if the footage had given her a headache.

Viktoria spoke up next, her voice equally as dispirited. “Okay, now that we know what’s going on, what’s our next step?”

Everyone looked to Yelena. She was seated at the head of the table, twirling one of her butterfly knives, her reaction to the video evident in the way she was flicking the dangerous weapon - as if imagining Volkov on the receiving end of the blade.

“I have an idea,” she said. “But I’m not sure you’re going to like it.”

“What is it?” Calina asked.

“We wait.”

“You’re right. I don’t like it.” Inessa replied. “We have our proof. We need to raid the place and-”

“And what? Kill them all? Take them hostage?”

“Either’s fine with me.” That came from one of the newer members of the group - Sanvi. She was glaring at the paused video, her jaw clenched in anger.

“There’s too much risk,” Yelena responded. “We’ll only get one shot at this before we lose our element of surprise.”

“So what’s the plan exactly?” Katya asked. “What are we waiting for?”

“We need Volkov. We need to wait until he’s on site before we go in. If we take him down, this is all over. We’ll be free.”

“How can we be sure he’ll show up?” Sanvi asked.

“Men like him are control freaks. They can only delegate for so long before they need to see for themselves that their plan is being followed. He’ll show up - I’m sure of it. And when he does, we’ll be there.”

“We’ll need to set up a base in Jersey,” Anya added, working through the logistics.

“Yes,” Yelena replied. “We’ll need a team close-by and on-call for when the moment comes.”

“I volunteer as tribute,” Katya said, raising her hand. A few of the Widows laughed at her reference to the movie they’d watched the other night. And a few other hands went in the air as well.

Including Calina’s.

Yelena eyed her critically. “You’re not just using this as an excuse to be closer to Murdock, are you?”

Calina shook her head forcefully. “No. I want to be a part of this. I need to be a part of this.”

She couldn’t explain why she felt so strongly about joining this mission. Maybe it was her way of atoning for leaving before. She’d been content to try to build a life in New York while her sisters did the hard work of freeing other Widows. Katya may not regard that as abandonment, but Calina did. And she wanted to try to erase that bit of red from her ledger. Balance the bad with something good - like backing up her team during the last stages of their battle for freedom.

“Even if that involves killing Volkov or his men?” Yelena asked Calina. “You told me you couldn’t take the violence anymore. I need to know the people on this team have the resolve to do whatever it takes.”

Whatever it takes. Yelena’s words were an eerie echo of Calina’s thoughts from that early morning on the pier six weeks ago. Back then she’d sworn to herself that she would go to any lengths to gain her freedom and get back to Matt. That vow had been sorely tested by Italy - and she still felt there were some limits to ‘whatever’ - but they had to do this.

Volkov had to be taken down.

And if that included killing again…so be it. She would live with the consequences.

For this - for her freedom, for her sisters, and for her future - she would take on one more stain on her soul. She’d never forgive herself if she sat this mission out and someone got hurt…or worse.

“I can do it, Yelena.” Calina held the other Widow’s gaze, and let her see the determination in her eyes.

Yelena nodded. “Okay. Let’s get to work.”

The mansion became a whirlwind of activity as they put Yelena’s plan in motion. A team of nine was selected to set up the base in Jersey. Anya found a property close enough to the warehouse for them to be able to mobilise in a hurry, but far enough away to give the Widows some cover. Weapons were gathered, transport was arranged, and gear was packed.

A few hours later, Calina stood in the doorway of her bedroom, a small suitcase at her feet and a bag slung over her shoulder. She surveyed the room, now devoid of any hint of her life here. There was no book on the bedside table. No running shoes shoved under the desk, and no necklace hanging over the mirror on the vanity table.

She’d miss this room, with its rustic charm and the view of the grey, churning water of the harbour. She’d miss the sound of the seagulls and the early morning calls of the fishermen.

She’d miss it…but she hoped she’d never have to return here.

She hoped this next mission would be the last, and that this would all be over soon.    

She grabbed the hoodie draped over the edge of the bed - the last of her possessions to be packed away. She brought the fabric up to her nose, breathing in deep. She’d stolen it from Matt at Christmas, wanting a tangible memento of their wonderful night together, and it still retained a hint of his scent. Instead of shoving it in her bag, she slipped the oversized sweater on and tucked her hands into the long sleeves, feeling surrounded by him again.

She would see him soon.

She hadn’t been lying to Yelena when she’d volunteered for this mission - it wasn’t just an excuse to be nearer to Matt. But it was a side benefit she was definitely going to take advantage of.

She needed to know if she could face him again. She needed to know if her mantra had worked, and she could stand to be in his presence without feeling overwhelmed by guilt and fear.

She needed to know if there was hope for them. 

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

Bang…bang.bang. Bang…bang.bang.

Matt stumbled out of his run across the rooftops as he picked up the sound of a familiar code.

Dash…dot.dot. Dash…dot.dot.

Calina’s code. Her message to him. The beacon that had brought them together two weeks ago on the crane above the Hudson.

And now he was hearing it again. He froze and cocked his head, trying to pinpoint the faint metallic noise.

But there was just silence.

Had he hallucinated it? In his desperate desire to see her, was he imagining the sound of her call?

Bang…bang.bang. Bang…bang.bang.

He smiled as the code rang out again. Nope. Not his imagination.

She was here.

He took off running in the direction of the sound. Not near the docks this time, but further inland and to the south. He flew across the skyline of the city until he ended up on top of a luxury spa, the night air around him perfumed by aromatherapy oils and hot wax.

And the subtle fragrance of sea salt and strawberries.

Calina

She emerged from behind a large ventilation shaft and he could hear a shy smile in her voice as she greeted him. “Hi.”

Matt didn’t hesitate. There was no crane between them this time. No metal barrier to keep them apart, so he strode forward, took her in his arms and kissed her.

His intention must have been clear on his face because Calina didn’t seem surprised by his sudden embrace. She just wound her arms around his neck and returned his kiss. It was a messy, hard and passionate kiss, with all of the frustrated longing of the last couple of weeks - the last couple of months - stoking the fire of it. 

Matt may have come to terms with their separation, but he still missed her with each and every moment that passed.

And now that she was back within reach, he wanted her as close as possible. He tightened his hold on her and buried his fingers in the braids of her hair and slid his thigh between hers. The contact caused Calina to moan, and Matt swallowed the sound as his own lust ratcheted up in response.

He hitched her up into his arms, and used the air vent behind her to brace her weight. Her back hit the hollow structure with a clang, but neither of them seemed to notice. Matt sank into the cradle of her thighs, and Calina tightened her legs around his waist, as they kissed and kissed and kissed, their movements as they rocked against each other frenzied and almost desperate.

It was amazing…but it still wasn’t enough to sate Matt’s desires. He wanted her naked. He wanted her in his bed again, with days to worship her body and explore every inch of her skin. He wanted her on her back, he wanted her moving over him, he wanted to spend hours between her legs, and bring her to climax a million times.

He wanted everything with her.

But all they had was this. Stolen moments in the dark, high above the city.

He tilted Calina’s head and deepened the kiss as he ground his hips against her core, unable to resist the sensation of the friction against his hardening cock. But then a harsh wail from a police siren rang out from the next block over, jolting Matt back to reality. He broke out of the kiss, breathing harshly in frustration.

This wasn’t their time. And Calina deserved better than this place - a dirty concrete rooftop exposed to the prying eyes of the neighbouring apartments.

He trailed his lips across her cheek to bury his head in his favourite spot beneath her ear. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into her neck.

“What for?” Calina answered, rubbing the exposed skin between his suit and his mask. “That was a hell of a welcome.”

Matt laughed and tilted his head back. “Hi,” he said, belatedly.

It was her turn to laugh. “Hi.”

He dropped a quick kiss on the tip of her nose and stepped away from the vent, letting her slide to her feet. Then he took her in his arms again, reluctant to let her go completely.

“How long are you here for?” he asked, dreading the answer.

She sighed. “Not long. In fact, I should probably head back.”

He looked away, trying to hide his disappointment. But she pressed her fingers to his cheek and turned his face back to her. “But I have good news,” she said. “We’re close to the end, Matt.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “We’ve set a trap for Volkov - we’re just waiting for him to walk into it.”

“That’s good,” he said, squeezing her tighter to him. “That’s really good.”

“And there’s more…,” she teased.

“I’m not sure I can take any more good news. It’s such an unfamiliar concept,” he teased. “But hit me with it.”

“The trap is…close by. So you’ll be seeing me around more often.”

“That really is good news.” He dropped a kiss on her lips, and they spent long, lazy moments exploring each other’s mouths, the world around them falling away as they basked in the luxury of being able to touch each other.

His duty to his city, the danger she was in being in New York, the possible prying eyes around them all vanished into insignificance as he held the woman he loved in his arms.

But inevitably - and all too soon - she ended the kiss and dropped her arms from around his shoulders.

“Time to go?” he guessed, catching her hand as she stepped away.

“Yeah,” she said, the single word infused with so much sadness.

Matt remembered his vow from a couple of weeks ago - to not wallow in the despair of their parting, but to cherish the moments they managed to steal together. So he smiled at her, and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. “I’ll see you around, then, sweetheart.”

His positive outlook seemed to help Calina. Her sad, downcast eyes lifted to him, and she met his smile with one of her own. “Yeah. I’ll see you around.”

With a final squeeze of her hand, Matt turned and ran towards the edge of the rooftop. As he raced across the concrete, he flung one end of his billy club across to the adjacent building, using the weapon as a grappling hook. In one flowing movement, he launched himself off the edge and swung across the gap to land on the fire escape.

“Show-off!” he heard Calina shout from behind him.

He laughed at the now-familiar tease and started leaping up the metal staircase, his senses split between concentrating on his climb…and following Calina as she travelled in the opposite direction.

She flowed across the rooftops, her movements quick and graceful. And he had to resist the overwhelming urge to track her all the way back to her new base. To find out where she was staying and what this mysterious trap was.

It went against everything that made him the man he was to let her head into danger alone. He wanted to protect her. Or, at least, be a partner in her fight.

But that’s exactly what it was - her fight.

Not his.

He had to trust that she could take care of herself. Trust that the other Widows would have her back. Trust that this would all be over soon and they would be together again.

It was a lot of trust for a man who struggled with the concept.

So he opted for a different concept - one he was much more familiar with.

Faith.

He had faith that she would come back to him - free and unharmed and ready for their life together.

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

“Three guesses where Calina was,” Inessa teased when Calina returned to the safe-house.

Calina just rolled her eyes and collapsed onto the soft worn couch in front of the bank of monitors. They’d converted the entire top floor of a condemned apartment building into their new base, and were watching Volkov’s warehouse 24/7 while waiting for his arrival.

The nine widows deployed to Jersey had decided to operate on a rotation system - alternating between surveillance duty, training, weapons maintenance and rest -  to ensure everyone would be at peak fighting fitness when the time eventually came to engage.

Tonight Calina had decided to use her few hours of downtime to visit Matt.

And she was so glad she had.

She’d been so nervous waiting for him as she tapped out his code. As the clanging sound seemed to echo in the night air, her heart had raced with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

What if, as soon as she locked eyes on him, all the guilt and self-loathing returned? What if they were just an impossibility now?

But she needn’t have worried. The moment Matt landed on the rooftop and strode towards her, passionate intent evident in his every step, the trepidation disappeared. Everything suddenly felt so…right.

They were not an impossibility. They were an inevitability.

She was meant to be with him. No one could ever love him more. No one could ever want him more.

As he took her in his arms and kissed the life out of her, she felt nothing but an overwhelming sense of ‘home’. For the first time in her life she truly understood the meaning of that concept.

Matt was her home. He was her safe haven, and the place she belonged.

Being with him quieted all her doubts and insecurities and fears. When he kissed her, she did feel worthy of his love. When he caressed her cheek and called her ‘sweetheart’, she knew she could make him happy. When he held her tightly against him, reluctant to let her go, she believed that all of the darkness in her soul and the misdeeds of her past could be forgiven.

Being with him wasn’t the problem - it was the answer to everything.

It was only now, an hour later, when the heady warmth of their encounter had worn off and she was once again alone with her thoughts, that those doubts started to creep back in.

Which meant only one thing: she had to spend as much time with him as she could.

————–

Things are finally looking up for Matt & Calina. But that can't possibly last...right?

Chapter 5

Tag list: @hollandorks @stilldreaming666 @yanna-banana @chezagnes @tearoseart-blog​ @acharliecoxedfan @freckledbabyyy

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[ravenya003]

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: I Robot, You Jane, S01E08

So, back when I started this project I said that I’d watch an episode every Saturday and then post my thoughts on Sunday. Yeah, that was wildly optimistic. The new plan is that I’ll just post when I have time.

This is our first Willow-centric episode, and just like our first Xander-centric episode (“Teacher’s Pet”) it’s not very good. But I still have a soft spot for it, and if nothing else the introduction of Jenny Calendar (hurray!) prevents it from being complete filler, even though none of the events of this episode are ever mentioned afterwards. At least, I’m pretty sure no one ever brings up the demon-on-the-internet again.

The cold open takes place in 1480. Correct me if I’m wrong, but the only flashback that predates this one in the show’s entire chronology is Aud/Anya’s backstory, which won’t be seen until season seven. So, this is a big swing for what is only the show’s eighth episode.

A guy called Carlos steps out of the shadows and is promptly killed after confessing his love to a horned demon called Moloch the Corruptor. Farewell Carlos, we knew you not at all. This is followed by a number of monks frantically chanting a spell which causes Moloch to dissipate and reappear as letters in an old book. As the finishing touch, his face appears on the cover.

Random comment: Despite crucifixes repelling vampires, Christianity isn’t exactly treated with a lot of reverence on this show. But if the religion is going to be represented, I’ve noticed that priests will invariably be bad guys, and monks (like these ones, or the ones that made Dawn) will always be good guys.

Also, the makeup/prosthetics on Moloch is really good, so I don’t blame the editors for putting him in both the opening credits of the show and Buffy’s nightmare sequence from the pilot episode.

The cold open ends with the monks sealing the book away, and portentously stating that nobody must ever read it again. That’s our cue to skip forward over five hundred years, to where it’s inevitably being removed from its storage crate by Buffy in the library.

The Scoobies are helping Giles scan his ancient tomes into the computer, and the whole thing is our first glimpse of a recurring theme throughout the show: modern tech meets old-school medievalism. It’s not my favourite aspect of the series, though I suspect it was one of Joss Whedon’s, since it comes up fairly regularly (think the Frankenstein’s Monster episode, or season four’s Adam. Occasionally it does provide some great scenes, like Xander giving Buffy the rocket launcher to take out the Judge in “Innocence” or Buffy and Riley coming face-to-face with a crossbow and rifle respectively in “Hush,” but for the most part I prefer the archaic tools that the Scoobies use).

In any case, this at least is a neat idea for an episode: a demon is given access to the internet after a scanner “reads” the book and uploads it into virtual reality. There’s a lot you can do with that premise.

This scene also introduces us to three new characters: some rando called Dave is helping them with the scanning, along with another student called Fritz, who is introduced with this line: “The printed page is obsolete. Information isn't bound up anymore. It's an entity. The only reality is virtual. If you're not jacked in, you're not alive.” Just in case you were wondering whether he was going to be a good guy or not.

But also on hand is... Jenny Calendar, the computer science teacher! Yes! She’s one of my favs. I always forget she was introduced this early, and she’s awesome right off the bat. The banter between her and Giles is quintessential Belligerent Sexual Tension. From their first exchange, you know it’s only a matter of time before they jump each other.

Willow, our poor darling nerd, is enjoying herself. Seeing at her at this early stage, I’m struck by the fact that she’s the character (with the possible exception of Cordelia) who will go through the most profound changes across the course of the show. At this point, she’s simply trying to find something that makes her special – right now, she makes it the subject she’s most interested in: books and knowledge (which feeds into her contribution to the good fight) but which also is the starting point of her dabbling-in-magic-to-become-powerful-witch-pipeline.

With that in mind, it’s interesting that techno-pagan Jenny is also introduced in this episode, as she’s an important stepping stone on Willow’s journey into witchhood.

My take on Willow is that although it’s never spelt out, she knows on some level that her friendship with Buffy is what makes her special, and she’s subconsciously railing against that (and will continue to do so long after this episode). She’s bullied at school, she’s thwarted in love by Xander, she’s perpetually in Buffy’s shadow – she wants SOMETHING to assure her she’s enough on her own terms.

In this episode, that mentality makes her an easy mark for Moloch’s manipulation, as she’s all-in on the romance not just for its own sake, but because it makes her feel chosen. Moloch obviously had some mind-control powers at work here, but Willow is also an easy target based on the insecurities she has about herself. Seven years later, she’d never fall for this so easily.

The next day she’s walking on air, as she spent the night talking to a guy called Malcolm Black on-line. And it’s soon apparent that Dave and Fritz are communicating with someone through the internet as well.

Oh man, look at these monitors!

Buffy is a little unsure about Willow’s story, and the computer camera zooms in on Buffy’s face, electronically goes through her personal files, and then sends them to Fritz with a missive to “watch her.”

Xander is suddenly not keen on the idea of Willow having a boyfriend, and Buffy calls him out on jealousy. She’s right – not because he’s attracted to Willow at this point, but because he “d’wants” her. That is, he doesn’t want Willow himself, but he doesn’t want anyone else having her either.

Shots demonstrate that Willow, Fritz and Dave are getting sucked further into Malcolm’s thrall, and during a discussion with Dave to try and ascertain how she can track down someone on-line, Buffy comes to the not-unreasonable conclusion (based on his reaction) that Dave is Malcolm. He’s not, and he clams up uncomfortably when she presses him. Fritz glowers in the corner.

Giles isn’t sure what to do (he’s computer illiterate) and advises Buffy to tail Dave. We get a vastly underrated gag in which Buffy asks: “Follow Dave? What, in dark glasses and a trench coat? Please. I can work this out myself,” which cuts immediately to her following Dave in a trench coat and sunglasses. Superb.

They end up at a massive computer factory called CRD, where we get the POV of a security camera noting Buffy’s arrival. Xander surprisingly ends up being a font of knowledge on the subject, as his uncle once worked there as a janitor. Before its closure several years ago, it was the third-largest employer in Sunnydale. (What are the first two? Got to be the funeral parlours and the cemetery caretakers, right?)

In an on-line conversation, Malcolm tries to drive a wedge between Willow and Buffy by citing the latter's school records (namely that she got kicked out of her old school) but Willow isn’t so far gone that she can’t spot a red flag when she sees it. She logs off pretty quickly.

Back in the library, the flirt-fight between Jenny and Giles over the relevance of computers continues, until she notices Moloch’s book and points out that the pages are all blank. This occurs concurrently with Dave telling Buffy that Willow wants to see her in the locker room, and Buffy very nearly getting electrocuted to death by exposed wiring left in a running shower. She survives only because Dave gets cold feet at the last second and warns her before making a run for it.

We’re then treated to the most harrowing scene of the episode, in which Dave confronts Malcolm (or at least a computer) and tells him he refuses to be complicit in his plans. Then, the computer writes him a suicide note. Just imagine how horrifying this would be, to realize not only that your death is imminent, but that everyone believes it’ll be at your own hands.

Fritz is lurking in the shadows of the room... He went dark side very quickly.

Back again at the library, Giles gives Buffy the English remedy to everything (tea) before offering a solution to strange events of the week: Moloch the Corruptor has been released from his book!prison by someone reading the words that held him there.

There’s a nice bit of back-and-forth as the gang piece together all the clues to reach a logical conclusion: Moloch has gone from the book, and yet no one has seen a giant demon wandering around. Buffy questions why Moloch is going through middle-men like Dave and the factory-workers at CDR instead of doing all the work himself. And how did someone manage to speak the words in the book anyway, as they’re not in English?

All the disparities point to one thing: Moloch is in the computer, and got there via the scanner. Like I said before, this is a neat idea and was backed up by the establishing dialogue at the start of the episode that laid out what the internet was capable of (‘cos back in the nineties, not everyone knew).

Buffy goes searching for Willow, and instead finds Dave in the computer lab... hanging from the rafters.

And, wow do I have a lot of questions in the wake of this scene. Does Buffy just leave him hanging there? Does no one call the authorities? If not, then who found him next? Do they let the suicide note stand? Are his parents forced to live the rest of their lives believing their son killed himself? And isn’t it crazy that everyone keeps on using this room in future episodes? (Though I suppose in Sunnydale, citizens would run out of places to exist if they stopped entering places that people had been murdered in).

Willow’s house! Why is it so exciting to see Willow’s house? In any case, her parents aren’t home (and her father never will be) and she’s spooked by her computer telling her she’s got mail... from Malcolm. Then she foolishly opens the front door and is grabbed by Fritz.

Giles takes the plunge and tells Jenny that a demon is on the loose on the internet, to which she says: “I know.” Robia Scott delivers that line a little oddly, in that she makes it seem like Jenny is the one responsible for releasing Moloch, but apparently it’s just meant to be a surprise that she takes Giles’s revelation in her stride. Turns out that she’s what’s called a “technopagan” who is well-aware of all the weirdness that goes on in Sunnydale.

(It’s obvious that the writers’ room had not yet decided on Jenny’s backstory at this point, which posits her as a member of the Roma clan which laid the curse on Angel – in fact, she was specifically sent to Sunnydale by her people in order to keep an eye on him – but they got lucky in giving her this link with magic right off the bat, as it fits in nicely with what we learn about her later. A bit like Aunt Beru’s “he’s too much like his father” comment in Star Wars, which was just a line in the first movie, but paid off dividends in the next two – entirely serendipitously).

Willow wakes up in CRD to discover that the reason it’s been swarming with scientists and workers lately is because Moloch has had them build a robot version of himself. He demonstrates its power by promptly snapping Fritz’s neck.

Buffy and Xander arrive on the scene (she leaps neatly over the fence, he trips and lands on his face) and make their way into the building. I love this shot, in which Buffy punches a receptionist in the face without breaking her stride:

The two of them try to make their way to Willow as Moloch delivers his pitch to her (she’s not buying it) and Giles and Jenny remotely perform the incantation that trapped him in that book all those centuries ago. Giles chants and Jenny types, with the help of her “on-line coven.” We learn nothing more about these people, either in this episode or any other – but in hindsight, they’ve got to be the rest of the Romani clan, no?

Willow is genuinely upset at Moloch’s betrayal. Xander punches out a technician and is super excited about it. Buffy realizes that Moloch isn’t back in the book, but rather trapped inside his robot body, and it takes only a little taunting for him to throw a punch at her and end up electrocuting himself on the contents of the circuit box behind her.

And this here, this shot:

...is why I love this show, specifically in its earliest seasons. At the end of the day, this is a story about three teenagers who are completely in over their heads, facing down the weirdest and most dangerous shit imaginable, but who are still in it together, no matter what. I can draw a direct correlation between the quality of any given episode and how far it adheres to/strays from this focus on the trio of Buffy, Willow and Xander as a team of misfits facing down the unimaginable.

And so, the wrap-up. Giles goes to thank Jenny for her contribution, and makes his case for books: they have texture and scent and history. She seems to get it, and then thanks him for returning her earring in a very odd moment that has her inform him: "[my ear] isn’t where I dangle it."

This, except he's saying: "is she going to dangle it from her vagina?"

And then, one of my favourite ending scenes of the entire show. Xander and Buffy try to cheer up Willow by commiserating with her on their equally terrible string of crushes and relationships. “We’re doomed!” they conclude. And they are. They realize it themselves a second later. All of them will end the show single.

But it’s okay, because they’ll always have each other.

***

Like I said, I’m fond of this episode despite its silliness. The plot itself is pretty thin, and generally speaking I don’t love the Buffy episodes that employ “weird science”. The show always falters a little when it leans into this vibe: see the Frankenstein/Ted/Human-Fish episodes, plus the entirety of the Initiative arc. Give me old-school vampires and demons, every time.

But I stand by the fact that a demon getting loose in the internet and causing havoc is a solid premise, and the script also managed to tap into our collective fear of catfishing and online predators WELL before its time. It also has some great dialogue and one-liners, provides some insight on Willow’s psyche that will be built on later, and introduces the one-and-only Jenny Calendar. You can’t skip it in the same way you can skip “Teacher’s Pet.”

Miscellaneous Observations:

I’ve already talked about Willow, but this episode really is fascinating if you treat it as the starting point of her arc. She’s shy and unassuming, she genuinely loves “nerdy” pastimes like scanning old books and talking on-line, and her insecurities make her an easy target for Malcolm’s manipulation. You can draw a straight line between this early characterization and where she ends up at the end of season six: glutted with power, resentment and destructive rage.

Dark Willow wasn’t just about Tara, it was about the deep-seated hostilities inside Willow from the very beginning... but we’ll get there. For now, I’ll just say that I’ve always felt Willow harbours the tiniest little seed of resentment toward Buffy for their social standing. As much as Willow loves her, in this episode she actually verbalizes the envy she feels at Buffy’s ability to attract male attention. That’s very funny in post-season four hindsight, and given where she ends up I’m inclined to believe it’s not just about boys. Willow wants to be special for her own sake, and at this point she’s envisioning that as someone liking her for who she is.

It's a type of insecurity that’s subtly different from what Xander feels. His is all about his masculinity in the presence of people who are far more powerful than himself, which paradoxically requires him to cleave even tighter to the women who upstage him (see his immediate anxiety about Willow prioritizing someone other than himself). For Willow, it’s about herself and how she measures up, which requires a degree of distance from those who make her feel inadequate.

Xander needs to have Buffy and Willow in his life – they make him special by association, and he eventually comes to accept his role as “the one who isn’t chosen.” Willow, on the other hand, is a little resentful of the importance that Buffy bestows on her existence, and wants something outside the constraints of the friend-group to validate her own specialness, something that’s hers alone. She’ll get there eventually.

While Buffy and the gang were investigating Moloch, there were a number of fun little second-long vignettes that demonstrated the chaos being strewn across the rest of the world: a guy whose essay is changed into a pro-Nazi manifesto, a school nurse insisting that a student’s record had no mention of his allergies, and a radio broadcast that announces financial discrepancies in the church coffers (so... that last one may not have been Moloch).

It's always a bit weird when the Monster of the Week ends up causing a lot of wide-spread harm, only to never be mentioned again – even in a place like Sunnydale. In this case, Moloch clearly managed to do a lot of damage before his death, not to mention taking over a factory and creating dozens of drone workers. Are there any long-term ramifications to any of this? Not that we ever see!

By later seasons, this show almost exclusively took place in Buffy’s house, various graveyards, the Magic Box, and the Bronze, so I was inordinately excited to see locations like the inside of Willow’s house and the CRD factory. Show me more of Sunnydale! The writers were under no obligation to do so, but they never really gave the place a sense of history or personality; a place that was worth protecting for its own sake.

No Angel or Cordelia this time around.

It’s always mildly amusing when an important character is introduced to the show alongside inconsequential ones. This episode gave us Ms Calendar, who will be an intrinsic part of the show going forward... but also Dave and Fritz, who won’t be. Kind of like how Sheila was introduced in the same episode as Spike, or Scott Hope in the same episode as Faith. Crazy!

It’s also rather startling just how much she stands out compared to other guest stars; she’s so vividly rendered in comparison to the likes of Blayne or Owen. Whether Robia Scott was brought back on the strength of her performance here, or was always intended to be a recurring guest star and so given more characterization is unclear, but you can tell just by watching this episode that she’ll be back.

Speaking of, I looked up the actors for Fritz and Dave on IMDB. Jamison Ryan (Fritz) only ever had three acting jobs in a single year of his life, while Chad Lindberg (Dave) has been working regularly for years: most recently in Star Trek: Picard, but also in other genre shows like Agents of SHIELD, Supernatural and The X-Files.

Dave is the first Sunnydale student since Jesse to be killed during the course of an episode, and I ended up feeling really sorry for the guy. He gets in over his head but tries to do the right thing, and that gets him killed. I’m still genuinely curious over the fallout of his death. Surely the Scoobies did something to convince his parents it wasn’t suicide?

There are plenty of minor details about Xander and Willow in this episode: we see the latter’s house and bedroom for the first time, and learn that her parents do in fact exist (though we’ll never see her father on-screen at any point during the course of the show) while Xander has an uncle that once worked at CRD as a janitor. None of it is hugely relevant, but when you think about it, we learn so little about their home lives that these little scraps are fascinating.

I’m always left wondering how Moloch’s book ended up in Sunnydale. I mean, of course it does, but where did it come from? Did Giles order it? Did the Watchers Council send it?

Jenny makes an interesting comment when Giles asks her if she’s a witch and she responds: “no, I don’t have that kind of power.” I mean, she and Giles had enough power to force Moloch into his robot form. What exactly is a witch’s power by comparison?

I wish the script had delved more deeply into exactly what Moloch’s feelings were for his followers. What exactly was he getting out of the interactions? (Beyond their obedience, obviously). At times he seemed genuinely fond of Willow and then distraught when she rejected him, which was in marked contrast to the indifference with which he killed Fritz and Carlos. I don’t expect much characterization for a Monster of the Week, but it felt like there was something there that will echo other portrayals of toxic love that become so prevalent in episodes to come.

Best Line: Jenny: “you kids really dig the library.” Xander: “to read makes us speak English good.”

Most dated line: Willow: “I met him online.” Buffy: “On line for what?”

Most Random Scene: There’s a moment in which Moloch is bragging about his powers to Willow and he tells her: “I can control the world! Right now a man in Beijing is transferring money to a Swiss bank account for a contract on his mother's life. Good for him!” Er... okay. What an oddly specific anecdote.

Worst Visual Effect: The infamous Robo!Moloch:

Best Scene: My darling trio sitting by the fountain, commiserating with each other on their doomed love lives. It’s funny, heartwarming and – in hindsight – very bittersweet.

Death Toll: Dave, strangled by Fritz. Fritz, neck snapped by Moloch. And Carlos too, I suppose, though I won’t count him because that was way back in 1480. Moloch, electrocuted by Buffy.

Grand Total: Thirteen civilians, fourteen villains (I’m counting Fritz as a villain as he was clearly the most gung-ho about killing people on Moloch’s orders. It didn’t take much to corrupt him). Still feel bad for Dave though.

[topazy]

Sky of stars

Pairings: Lexa/reader

Warnings: Character death, mentions of blood

Chapter: 0.07

You stood panting, as your eyes traced over all the bodies on the floor. It was a surreal feeling knowing you were standing in front of the next commander.

You were in love with the next commander.

“Ai hodnes,” Lexa approaches you and cups the side of your face with her free hand, her other hand still clenched around her blood-soaked weapon. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, unable to form a verbal reply.

A look of concern crosses her face while stepping back. “Y/N…”

“Hofli keryon kom commanders choose yu,” you finally say.

—

You walk closely behind Lexa through the woods, checking that the area is clear. You hadn’t said much, which hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Lexa suddenly stopped walking and turned to face you. She looks almost remorseful. Her lips parted but no words came out.

You clear your throat and blink away any tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. You refuse to let your emotions get the better of you. “I can’t help but wonder if any of these men are the ones who raided my village, if they are the ones who took my mother.”

“I promise you, here and now, that when the time comes, I will do whatever I can to save our people.”

You pressed your forehead against hers. “I know,” you sigh. “We should find Anya. I think the mountain men are gone for now.”

—

You regrouped with the rest of your clan inside caves south of the Trikru village. Anya had informed you both that two warriors had fallen by the hands of the mountain men. They had run out of the cave to lure the men who had gotten dangerously close to the cave. They sacrificed themselves. They died as heros. As true warriors.

Anya stood in front of you and smirked before standing on a rock to address her people. “Today we lost warriors at the hands of the mountain men. Make no mistake, when this war is over we will be victorious and stand in the blood of our enemies! Jus drein jus daun!”

“Jus drein jus daun!”

“Jus drein jus daun!”

The whole Trikru continued to chant as you made your way back to the village. Anya had sent riders to check it was clear beforehand, so she knew it was safe to travel.

The war with the mountain men was far from over, but you couldn’t help the feeling of optimism that filled you. Maybe it was the chanting, or the way Lexa smiled at you, but all the dread you’d been carrying suddenly disappeared.

—

Moonlight and the small burning beacons are your only sources of light amid the night sky and trees. In the corner of your eye, you noticed one person wasn’t chanting. Ona. Despite growing up in the same clan, you didn’t know much about her, aside from the fact she was a few years younger than you.

You slowed your pace to not make it obvious that you were watching her. Something was off. You could feel it in your bones.

When you finally reached your village, you hung back and watched as the rest of your village entered, and Ona stayed back. You watched in horror as she readied her bow and arrow.

Ophelia.

You ran as fast as you could towards where she stood. You recalled the look in her eyes when you cut Ophelia. You’d assumed Ona and Dela would hate you for betraying one of your own, but you never thought she’d follow through with the plan to assassinate the Trikru leaders.

She wasn’t going to stop trying to kill them, so you needed to stop her.

Hearing footsteps behind her, she turns to face you. Ona’s eyes widen as she jumps down.

“Ona!”

“You betrayed us!” She spits back.

You lunged forward and plunged your knife into her neck. At the same time, you felt an agonising pain in your lower stomach.

You stumble back and look down to see an arrow sticking out of your stomach. Your vision began to blur, but you could make out the sounds of voices getting louder around you.

—

Your eyes open slowly and the vision of a person leaning over you becomes clear. Lexa jumps a little when you weakly squeeze her finger. “Ai hodnes, are you in pain?”

You shake your head. Lexa’s beautiful eyes were bloodshot and puffy from crying. “Ona?”

“She’s dead.” Lexa pressed a gentle kiss to your lips before letting out a sob. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“Don’t, you were leading your people home. That’s what a real commander does. It’s what you're going to do until the day you die.”

A feeling of warmth takes over your whole body. Your eyes look down at the bed you are lying on. The fur covering your body was dark brown, but you could still make out the fresh blood soaking through it. You knew you were bleeding out and didn’t have much time left, as you were starting to feel extremely tired.

Lexa leans down beside you and brushes strands of hair off your sweaty forehead. She lets out a breathy sob, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Warm tears fall down your cheeks as you whisper, “I love you too.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆𝐸𝓅𝒾𝓁𝑜𝑔𝓊𝑒 ⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

You watched for years as Lexa grieved the loss of those she loved and cared about. You watched her mourn for Costia when Nia killed her. Watched as she remained strong when Anya died. Watched as she betrayed Clarke Griffin, the girl from the sky who she had deep feelings for, so that she could hold onto a promise that she made to you and free the grounders from the mountain men.

You watched proudly as Lexa Kom Trikru became the greatest commander that ever lived.

You dreamed of being reunited with Lexa one day, but when her spirit left her human body, you didn’t go see her. You gave her time. Lexa still had work to do. She needed to help Clarke save the human race one last time before she could truly be at peace.

The sounds of branches snapping behind you made you smile. She had finally found you. You looked down at the beautiful flowers around you. Lexa looked speechless as she approached you, “I remember this place.”

You did as well. It was identical to the place you introduced yourself to one another after escaping the reapers. Except now it's different. There was no danger where you were.

“It’s been so long, I’m surprised you remember me,” you say, chuckling slightly.

Lexa runs towards you and embraces you by wrapping her arms around you, “I could never forget you.”

Now that you had reunited with the love of your life, you were finally at peace.

[bakedbakermom]

Stained

Chapter 5: Sacrifice // start at the beginning

tagging @today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr

sacrifice verb 1. to give up for a greater cause 2. to kill in order to propitiate a deity -- So that something dead may be reborn into life.

They performed the ritual, fittingly, in an abandoned graveyard chapel, a crumbling holy place among the dead where weather-worn angels watched the proceedings with their eternally weeping eyes. Willow and Tara placed braziers at the compass points and filled them with herbs of cleansing and banishment; their smoke wafted out through the holes where the ceiling had fallen in, vanishing quickly in the moonless sky. Scully winced when they drew a chalk pentacle on the floor around the altar; she felt an involuntary twinge of sympathy for the nuns of her childhood, for how deeply scandalized they would have been to see this casual blasphemy, to witness her being a part of it.

They chanted as they worked, a lilting song in many languages, somewhere between summoning, a plea, and a lullaby. Scully recognized enough from church hymns in Latin and Greek to understand the refrains, “Mothers have mercy,” and “grant us your peace,” but the rest swirled around her in a blur. The air thickened with the weight of their words, growing hazy and shimmering like a heat mirage.

“The idea,” Giles had explained the night before, “is to summon the spirits of three holy women. The spell calls them saints, and invokes some early Christian iconography, but it’s more likely that these are some of the more ancient female spirits of great power that appeared in pre-Roman pagan rites of the area.”

“Christmas trees, birthdays, female empowerment spirits—is there anything those guys didn’t steal?” Anya grumbled, rummaging through the drawers in the magic shop for herbs. She had built a pile of dried and fresh greenery on the table, and the air smelled like a mix of hospital and florist: sweet and earthy, but with the tingling, medicinal promise of healing. She passed each bundle to Xander, who bound them with braids of white ribbons.

“The spell sometimes refers to them as one, sometimes as three,” Giles continued, undeterred by the interruption. “If I’m right, and I usually am, we’re to invoke the aspects of the Morrígna, a triple goddess of the Tuatha Dé representing birth, life, and death.”

Mulder nodded. “So that something dead may be reborn into life.” He sat next to Scully, looking over the pages that Giles had translated into English while she had been cajoling a rather austere nun named Mary Clarence into surrendering nearly a gallon of holy water—and also conspiring with the slayer. He bumped her knee with his and gave her a reassuring smile. “Presto, change-o, I’ll be a real boy again.”

“Precisely. We sanctify the air with herbs and summon the spirit in her three forms with an appropriate sacrifice: Buffy’s blood for the birth aspect, as she is the protector of the innocent; a heart burning with flame, for the life aspect—”

“Almost done with that, by the way,” said Tara, who was mixing a foul-smelling and brilliantly green potion in a cauldron the size of a sugar bowl. She handled it with the reverence usually afforded to grenades and precious relics; in a way, it was both. “Just need some gold flakes and ground rat-snake scales.”

“Top shelf, third drawer over, and then the scales should be in the teeny jar next to the chicken feet,” Willow said as she breezed through the door, carrying a small bundle wrapped in butcher paper. Her pale skin had a slight greenish cast, and there was a speck of blood on her sleeve, but she looked otherwise fine as she stopped to kiss Tara on the cheek before stepping into the back room, to place a stolen human heart in the fridge as casually as if she had just picked up milk at the corner store. Scully made a mental note to never, ever get on the witch’s bad side.

“Right, yes, and then of course, for the death aspect, the dust of the vampire who sired you.”

“You’re welcome for that, you know,” said Spike, who watched the preparations from the corner with a carefully manicured disinterest. “Hate going down to that part of the underground. Even the creepers get the creeps down there.”

“Yes, Spike, thank you again for enduring the terrifying ordeal of taking a walk and wielding a dustpan.” Buffy rolled her eyes and picked up the jar he had returned with, turning it this way and that in the light. The matte gray dust inside shifted sluggishly, almost grudgingly, as if it was too dead to even bother obeying the laws of gravity. “Perhaps you’d like to be next in line for canning? I’m sure there’s a dingy shelf somewhere where we could forget about you until you started growing mold.”

Spike shoved away from the wall and stalked toward the door. “Oh do piss off. Forgive a guy for doing you a favor.” He stopped to put a hand on Scully’s shoulder. “Best of luck, Red.”

He leaned down to whisper something in Mulder’s ear, then vanished into the night. Scully lifted an eyebrow at him, but Mulder only smiled and shook his head.

Now Scully turned to him, studying his profile as he watched the two witches painting a great looping symbol in the center of the pentagram. With no moon in the sky, the only light in the space came from the circle of candles on the floor; it flickered over his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, the edges of his brow and chin. He saw her staring and cocked his head in silent question.

“Just wondering what Spike said to you last night.”

He reached down and took her hand, twining their fingers together and then pressing a soft kiss against her skin. He gave a gentle pull and she moved into him, smooth as a dance, and he tucked a loose strand of crimson hair behind her ear; his fingers lingered on the smooth curve of her jaw. “He told me… He told me to be worthy of you.” He huffed a small laugh and glanced away; if he’d been alive, he would have been blushing. “Underneath all that leather and sneering, he’s kind of a sentimental guy.”

Scully smiled at him through the tears stinging her eyes. After going over the plan a half dozen times at the Magic Box, they had returned to the motel and abandoned all pretense of separate rooms; neither of them spoke as she curled up beside him in the small, rumpled bed. She had watched him for hours as he slept—with no pulse and no breath, he might have been carved from stone, and she studied him like a piece of fine art, committing each detail to memory.

She spent the day in his arms. She spent the day saying goodbye.

She arched up onto her toes and he met her halfway, touching their foreheads together. “You are worthy,” she told him, the words twisting like a knife in her heart. “You always were.”

“Scully, I—”

“Guys?” Buffy called, gently, from inside the circle. “It’s time.”

“After,” she whispered, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. She had to swallow past the lump in her throat to get the word out. “Tell me after.” Because if you tell me now, I’ll never be able to go through with it.

Hand in hand, they stepped into the circle.

Willow closed it behind them, touching her fingertip with the blade of a knife and letting a single drop fall onto the chalk line; immediately it began to glow with a gentle, pulsing light, white and cold and pure as the stars. A chime rang through the air. The flames in the candles dropped low, as if the air had been pulled from the space, and then began to pulse in time to the rhythm of the summoning song.

Only Mulder, Scully, and Buffy stood inside the ring of candles and starlight. The others paced outside, continuing the lyrical chant. Their voices came through muffled and distorted, the words blurring into a hum; the rippling in the air took on the same cadence as the chant, and Scully realized with a start that she could feel it in her chest. It beat alongside her heart.

Mulder pulled off his shirt and stood before the altar; he had already been anointed with holy water, leaving looping symbols burned into the flesh of his torso like he had done a poor job applying sunscreen. Scully had painted them on herself, carefully following the illustrations from the journal, as Mulder had ground his teeth and bitten back his moans of pain. His back arched off the table, tendons bulging in his neck, the wood beneath his hands screeching like a living thing as he gripped the table’s edges. She apologized with her eyes and her hands with each stroke, smoothing his hair and squeezing his hand when the pain became overwhelming. “Keep going,” he would hiss between clenched teeth, over and over, until his stomach and chest and the tops of his arms were red and raw with whorls and loops and symbols in a language all but lost to time.

He dipped his finger in the jar of his sire’s ashes and traced them over the symbols on his stomach, hands steady despite the revulsion twisting his face. “Badb, crow and crone,” Mulder intoned, using the words Willow and Giles had taught him. “Red-mouthed, white-eyed, accept my offering: dust beyond death, end of the endless.”

The thrum in the circle quickened, and she felt it in the soles of her feet like the footsteps of some great beast—distant, unseen, but approaching steadily. It rumbled through her ribs, her heart speeding to match its tempo. She glanced around; no one else seemed affected by it, and she swallowed hard to center herself. She felt the magic brushing against her skin, circling her like a curious cat. She willed herself to relax, to open up to it. I’m here, she told it. I’m ready.

Mulder picked up the ritual knife from the altar; it gleamed in the strange light like an oil slick. Buffy held out her arm and he cut her just where Scully had told him to, the thickest part of her forearm, where it would bleed well but heal quickly. “But in the movies they always cut their palms,” Buffy had protested, but Scully told her that was half dramatic effect and half for the easy concealment of a packet of fake blood.

“Macha, maiden of the flood,” he chanted, “daughter of the waters clear and new, accept my offering: the blood of the protector, she who keeps the innocent from harm.”

He traced Buffy’s blood over the marks on his shoulders and upper arms, as if drawing armor over himself. The pulse beneath Scully’s feet and in her chest ramped up again, and she couldn’t tell if it was her frantic heart driving the beat or the spell pushing her heart into overdrive. She could hardly hear over the rush of it, hardly breathe past its thundering beneath her sternum. Light from the circle began to bleed into her skin, pulsing in time, as if the moon had left the sky to throb beneath her skin.

She reached for the heart Willow had harvested, lying in a bowl of green potion flickering with emerald flame. She half expected it to lurch to life in her hands, to be caught in the same roaring storm of magic rattling her own heart inside her body like a caged animal desperate to escape. But it just lay there, because it was not this heart the magic required.

Buffy was already binding the wound on her arm, and gave Scully the barest of nods. She moved closer in slow and deliberate steps, smooth and silent as a jungle cat.

Scully tried to still her trembling as she held the heart before Mulder’s blade.

“And to Danu, mother of mothers, the great and phantom queen.” He lifted the knife with both hands, casting rainbows of throbbing light through the circle. The chanting outside reached a fever pitch. “I offer you a heart burning with flame. May the life inside it pass into me, may its flame banish the darkness inside my heart, may I be restored and reborn to myself.”

His blade flashed toward the heart, and time slowed to a crawl; Scully saw everything unfolding in slow motion, helpless to stop it, unwilling to even try.

Buffy stepped fluidly between them, her hands wrapping around Mulder’s with an inescapable strength. The confusion in his eyes morphed into horrified understanding as she twisted, redirecting the arc of the knife.

This was the part of the ritual none of them had understood, the meaning behind the burning heart—drawn on yellowed pages by the hand of a man long dead, the tear mark smudging its edge speaking volumes untold by the texts itself. Had it been his wife, husband, lover? Whose heart had he inked there, wreathed in the flames that had transformed him back into a living man, only to find that he had no one left to share that life with? She hoped, whoever it was, they had gone willingly to the knife, as she did; she hoped the flame in their heart had burned brightly enough to outshine the fear.

The light in her skin leapt toward the blade like a strand of lightning, pulsing down the length of it, up his arms, and then spiraling through the symbols toward the center of his chest. For just a few panicked beats of her galloping heart she felt his pulsing alongside hers, beating in both bodies and in the light that bound them.

Mulder tried to wrench the blade away, but Buffy had both Slayer strength and the cruel, implacable mistress of momentum on her side. He caught Scully’s eye at the last moment, pleading and terrified. She tried to tell him I’m sorry . She tried to say Forgive me . She tried to beg him to live, to carry on, to take this sacrifice she was giving him and make something true and beautiful out of it. She tried to say those last three words they had never spoken. The tears that fell from her eyes glowed like pearls.

And then the Slayer slammed the knife into her chest.

A/N: Not me cackling as I write this, torturing characters and readers alike. Don't get discouraged; we're only halfway there!

[annwayne]

The Red Logs: Return to the Temple Ch. 17

Chapter 17: Another Life

Last Chapter <- -> Next Chapter

Fem!OC X Crosshair

Word Count: 2297

Fic Summary:

There are benefits to owning a clone bar. Underworld lords don’t threaten you to pay for protection. Clones are great company. And the drinks taste great. However, there are also risks to owning a clone bar. Like, for example, becoming the fuck buddy of a special clone task force member so your life gets threatened when a Separatist puts out a bounty for your capture in order to use you as blackmail. Also your sleep schedule gets wrecked. But Anya Tougt is a little more capable than an average bar owner.

Ao3 Link Here

Warnings apply to whole fic:

Canon typical violence, descriptions of panic attacks, alcohol, swearing, 18+ themes (eventual smut), trauma, religious trauma parallels, mild gore

Authors Note:

What is pacing? We don't know about pacing. Sorry lol.

24 BBY. Tomorrow Kenobi, Anakin, and Master Tali and I are going to visit Mandalore on a diplomatic mission. With tensions in the senate rising, Chancellor Palpatine wants to know where Mandalore stands if a civil war breaks out. When I asked Yoda why send all four of us he mentioned there were forces upset with the change of Manalorian customs.

Twenty minutes later, I stepped out of the Jedi Temple dressed in civilian clothes. All signs that I was a Jedi stuffed into a bag on the brink of bursting. Everything packed away, except my saber which I tucked into the cloth belt that hugged my waist. It too, hidden from view.

The strap of my duffle dug into my shoulder as I rushed to the taxi platform. My bag thudded at my feet as I waved for a free taxi. I glanced at the chronos posted on the various screens and advertisements floating around the city-planet. It was well into the bar’s rush hour now.

Getting changed only took me five minutes. Getting everything put away, that took much longer than I hoped. No doubt Crosshair was there, waiting, possibly asking Jayas about me. I shook my head at the thought. Jayas was too lousy a liar and Crosshair was too damn perceptive. My nerves buzzed as the taxi driver took my address.

Fifteen terrifying minutes passed and I remembered why I rarely used the cab system on Coruscant. But finally, finally, I was home.

I practically ran out of the speeder, tossing a handful of credits as I went. It must have been more than enough, because I didn’t hear any complaints from the driver. Quickly, I ran down the alley to the backdoor and pulled out my keys. The door opened with a soft click. No one was in the immediate hallway. I leaned back against the cool metal door and let out a sigh.

“You’ll fucking pay for that!”

Irritation pulled my brows together and tugged my lips down.

“You’re swaying like a two legged droideka, you couldn’t hurt a tooka!”

A sigh left my lips as I pushed myself off the metal door. I tossed my duffle over by the door that led to my loft and marched to the bar.

“Good thing you’re not a tooka!”

Two clones stood by the bar, both surrounded by others interested in a fight or watching one. They were regulars I recognized, Jint and Catcher, friends, the last I saw them. Just before the pair could throw their fists, I jumped onto the bar counter and whistled. After the sharp noise caught the attention of anyone within a block radius, I dropped down and stepped between the clones.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing in my bar?!”

Instead of an answer, I got a welcome.

“Miss Anya?”

“Anya’s back!”

The crowd of clones turned into a swarm, as regulars and drunks swept up in the craze surrounded me. Questions went unanswered as too many voices tried talking to me. Somehow I ended up on Catcher’s shoulders. He paraded me through the bar as the clones all chanted my name. They were exceptionally drunk tonight. From my throne I spotted black and red armor leaning in a dark corner.

“Ok, okay, you’ve had your fun.” Jint helped me down from Catcher’s shoulders. They laughed together, reminiscing on won battles, whatever they were arguing about before now completely forgotten. Without someone to parade above the heads of clones in the bar, the chanting died down and the crowd of clones around me dispersed. Or rather, they were drunk enough to not notice when I left.

“That was some homecoming.” Crosshair’s voice greeted me before I saw his face, the dark lighting obscuring his expression.

“You weren’t here last time. That was a homecoming.” I smirked, though it didn’t stay for long.

“Another rare booze run?”

I leaned against the wall beside him, my arm brushing against his armor. “No, actually.”

In the corner of my eye I caught his head turning to face me. “How informative.”

“Answered your question, didn’t it?” Normally I’d be smiling at this part, this game of tooka and mouse we so often played.

He turned fully, resting his side against the wall and crossing a foot behind the other. “You’re making me ask?” A hint of a grin laced his words. “What sort of business was this last trip of yours, Miss Anya.”

At his use of my title I snickered and shook my head. “That just sounds weird coming from you.”

“Well, Miss Anya, I believe there’s only one thing that’ll get me to stop saying it now.”

I shook my head, then turned to face the clone. “You’re the worst, you know?”

“Would you have me any other way?”

“Alright alright,” I opened my mouth, but found only air. Maybe I should have said it was a beer run. “Well, it was,” The only word that came to mind fell from my lips like sand. “Family.”

His eyes widened, then narrowed. “I didn’t know you had family.”

“Yeah, there’s a reason for that.” I mumbled, looking past his eyes at the wall beside them. If Obi-Wan ever found out I called him family, he’d never let me live it down. But in a way, it was true. “Anyway, I’m exhausted and come back to a bar fight?”

Crosshair wore an inquisitive expression, though on him it looked more like a glare than someone in deep thought. He answered absentmindedly “Yeah.. Something about Lyn getting arrested.”

“What?” Surprise jolted me up.

My sudden movement caught Crosshair’s attention long enough to drop that not-scowl. “You didn’t know?” Now confusion colored his features.

There was no helmet to hide my expressions now. “I need to go talk to Jayas.” I turned towards the bar, took a step, then turned back. “Come up in twenty, I wanna clean up a bit.”

That confused expression didn’t budge, but Crosshair nodded. He leaned back against the wall again, and pulled out a toothpick. There wasn’t time to get lost watching his lips, so I turned quickly and scanned the floor. Jayas wasn’t anywhere to be seen, same as when I first came out onto the bar. Instead, Fathal and a single weequay worked the bar. The Weequay mostly filled taps and passed any mixed drink orders to his co-worker. So, Jayas managed to hire someone?

“I’m sorry, ma’am, you can’t come back here.” The weequay was chest deep in orders, and still noticed as I stepped behind the bar. “This is an employees only area.”

“Well-” I glanced past the weekquay, catching Fathal’s eye.

His starry eyes narrowed, and the rodian called out. “Yer ears work’n Qwon? That there’s Miss Anya.”

The weequay, Qwon, looked between the rodian and I, mouth open slightly.

“Your boss.” I mustered a smile, then stepped past Qwon to Fathal. “Jayas in the office?” The rodian gave me a nod. “Thanks, Fathal.” He hummed a response as I stepped through the swinging doors to the back. A knock later, I heard a gruff voice answer.

“Sorry, Fathal. Jeya’s running late and these tax forms are taking longer than-” Jayas lost his words as he looked up and saw me step into the office. “Anya!” He jumped out of his seat, causing the desk to skirt forward from the sudden movement.

“Jayas.” I grinned. Relief flooded my chest at the sight of him. His eyes were a little more sunk then normal, and a line I hadn’t seen before creased his forehead. “It’s so good to see you.”

He fumbled past the traps of files and furniture till he held me in a hug almost as tight as the ones Wrecker gave. “Kid, you had me scared shitless.”

“Yep, I do that. Need to breathe, Jayas.” I gasped and he chuckled, only loosening his grip slightly.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. Maker, not knowing for all this time has been hell.” Jayas leaned back to meet my eye. “Promise me you’ll never get a bounty on you again.”

That earned a breath of a laugh from me. “It’s not like I get much say about that.”

Jayas scoffed at my answer and then finally he let me go from his hug. He stepped back and gave me a look over. “Have you gained weight?”

“Wow.” I laughed, twisting my eyebrows up. “Didn’t think I needed to be the one to tell you commenting on someone’s weight is rude.”

“No, I meant,” He rubbed his chin. “Hugging you, it feels different. Like, your arms and shoulders have more to them.”

“I was gone awhile.” I shrugged. If Jayas noticed the results of my training, then Crosshair was likely to as well. So what, I worked out while helping family? That didn’t make any sense.

“Yes, of course. Speaking of, you look exhausted.”

“Well, you’re not one to talk.”

Jayas rubbed the back of his head and avoided my eyes. “Yeah, things have been interesting around here. No time to relax.”

“Lyn.” Her name still hurt my tongue.

He glanced my way before speaking again. “Yeah, you heard? She got arrested for treason. Clones came and hauled her away a little more than a week ago.” Jayas fidgeted with a bolt on his cybernetic arm as he talked.

“Clones?” Not the police? Jayas nodded his head, his eyes sharing the same question. My gaze fell to the floor as I weighed the information. I couldn’t risk messaging him tonight, but Tech had to know something about this.

“Any chance it was related to your absence?” Jaya’s question brought my eyes back up.

My lower lip slipped between my teeth before I answered. “More than a chance.”

Jayas dropped his gaze again. We stood uncomfortably in the office, sounds of music and laughter pouring in from the bar. Eventually, I felt a metal hand grip my shoulder.

“We’ll sort that out later. For now, don’t worry about the bar. Relax and get back into the rhythm of things.” Jayas gave me a soft smile, similar to the ones I’d seen him give his kids.

“But-”

He shook his head, interrupting my argument before I could even give it. “You’re exhausted. I don’t think I’ve seen circles that dark under your eyes since I first met you. So get some sleep and enjoy some time with that clone you fancy.” He winked, earning a grin from me. “The bar will be waiting, and then I can catch you up to speed on everything and you can tell me what being locked up in some safe house for nearly a month was like.”

“..Yeah.” My grin slowly fell, but by then Jayas had turned to open the door of the office. “What about Stinky? I still need to pick him up.”

Jayas stood on the doorway and bat the air at my question. “Oh, he’s fine waiting a night. I can bring him by in the morning.”

Relief, instantly followed by guilt, filled my sigh. Stinky was a tough Tooka, but this was a long time apart. A good person would fight their exhaustion and pick up their animal companion. “That would be wonderful, thank you.” I gave Jayas a weak smile.

He nodded, once and I exited the office, letting him move out of the door frame so it could close. I picked up my duffle, stifling a groan as my tired muscles cried against me. Before exiting to the stairs of my loft, I turned and called Jayas.

“Hey, Jayas?”

“Yeah kid?” He stopped at the double doors leading to the bar.

“Thanks.”

He stood there, holding the door with one silver hand and one dark one, and looked me over with eyes I had seen few times before. Once being the first time he met me. “Anytime, Miss Anya.” Then he stepped back into the bar.

Something turned over in my gut at those eyes, but I could worry about it later. Now I wanted to shower. Every step up the stairs felt like a trek, but eventually, I made it to my front door.

Inside, it was quiet. Of course, Stinky wasn’t here to greet me, but it was almost like I could feel my absence in the loft. The place felt so still. Somehow, it felt like it would always be this way. But this was my home, and that wasn’t so.

Crossing into my bedroom seemingly gave me a boost of energy. Suddenly the weight on my eyes had lifted and my shoulders weren’t hunched over. Of course, I needed to hurry. Crosshair would be up in approximately 15 minutes, and I needed to stash all evidence of being ‘Annie the Padawan’ somewhere his curious reticle wouldn’t find.

The normal stuff was easy, toothbrush, hairbrush, underwear. That could be put away like regular. But blacks, my Jedi robes, lightsaber, and armor needed more thought. The box under my bed could hold the clothes, but it wasn’t big enough for the armor. Now that the duffle bag was mostly empty, the armor actually fit rather well. I zipped up the bag and slid it under my bed. Looked normal enough.

That just left my lightsaber. Sure, it could fit in the duffle or the force-locked box like before, but that felt wrong. I needed it close to me. Easy access. What was I thinking? This was a weapon I thought I’d never touch again, and yet here I was wanting to keep it close. As I scanned my bedroom my eyes landed on the nightstand by my pillow. I couldn’t? Could I?

Authors end chapter notes:

Did you expect Tali to be arrested when Anya got home? Where do you think the lightsaber will be hidden?

Dividers by Djarrex   

Tag list: @midnight-sun-0

[claytonsguardianangel]

“Yes.” I say shortly and take a breath, starting to chant aloud with him.

Through each word, things begin to shift. Wind begins to pick up around us, light shines from between us, and the air feels more tense.

I take one last look at Kaz as he starts moving backwards and then out the door, the palace deconstructing around us slowly until we’re on the grass in a large lot.

The Force brightens as all the souls come back and fill it again, though the cloud that was Palpatine returns to overshadow as he always did.

I watch Anakin as he closes his eyes, watching his hair pull back up until it’s in that cropped style. Just after Geonosis then.

I let my eyes fall shut as we say the last word, blacking out into the finalities of the chant.

They blink open as I lay on my bed in my room in the Temple in a body that’s three years younger.

Within a blink of an eye, Cody’s suddenly transported from the dark, luxurious marble that makes up most of the palace to the sterile barracks in the bottom floors of the Temple. None of your work has been done. Or- all of it has been taken away. 

Beds are still cramped side by side in bunks. Clones push past each other about the space, every single one of them still donning their stark white armor they received when they quickly reached adulthood. 

His brothers. Every last one of them. They're... alive. They're alive and well and have yet to be affected by the horrors of the war- except for what just happened on Geonosis, apparently.

His breath hitches and he sits up in his bed, leaning to look down at the bed underneath him. “Rex?!” 

The still-brunette clone looks up, raising a brow. “You talkin’ t’me? Think you’re mistaking me for someone else.” 

“What- no,” he whispers, his breaths quickly picking up as panic sets in. “No no what is this…” 

“Hey,” Fives nudges him from his bed ‘next door’, they used to joke, “Are you good?” 

Cody’s eyes widen as he beholds the tattooed ‘5’ on his brother’s temple, tearing up. “Fives,” he breathes, grinning ear to ear. 

“...yeah?” Fives blinks. “Are you good, Commander?” 

“‘M okay,” Cody nods, completely overwhelmed by panic, joy, and fear all at once. Is he going to have to relive all of this all over again? Is this… punishment, for something? For disagreeing with your idea for Kaz? Or punishment from Vader, for standing up for you? “I- I gotta go okay?” 

He jumps down from his bed, quickly grabbing his helmet before moving to the exit to get some fresh air. If he stays in here any longer, surrounded by imagery he’s already lived, he’ll simply suffocate to death. 

What the fuck has happened to him? 

-- 

Kaz rises from his satin blue sheets with a groan as his alarm goes off, quickly grabbing his comm to turn it off. He goes about his normal morning routine like any other day, reading through the news and other messages he received throughout the night as he brushes his teeth, brushes his hair, etc. A headache seems to be plaguing him today, but it’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. Only, today is throne day. Gods help him when the adorable little children get rowdy. 

He rolls his neck as he walks out to his armor after his shower, cringing at how many times it cracks with each roll of his head. Seriously, Galin may have been right about seeing a massage therapist soon. Gods. 

He slips into his layered clothing and then, piece by piece, attaches the armor he’s now calling his second home. Second, considering he lives in it more than he does his ship. His ship is third- and what a beauty she is. 

The second he picks up his helmet, his ungloved fingers brush against a certain roughness on the underside that’s severely uncharacteristic of the normal smooth surface beskar produces. Especially with how good Anya is at her job. His helmet should be flawless- did he damage it without knowing?! In training, perhaps. 

He tips it upside down to examine the damage, freezing as he beholds a small phrase written in what could very well be the most beautiful handwriting he’s ever seen. In a language that he’s never seen before. 

Tracing a thumb over the writing, he whispers it to himself slowly, sounding out every vowel as best he can, as if he’ll recognize it eventually. “Ki… n-nu…nukata. Signed… Joo- J- J’us dorona. Dorona,” he tries again with a roll on the r. “Ki Nukata. J’us Dorona. What the hell?” 

Did someone steal his helmet in the middle of the night? More importantly- how the fuck did they get in without him knowing? He always locks everything up tight. Was this Anya? It couldn’t have been- that writing doesn’t look like hers at all. 

But she may have a clue of who did this. 

He slips the helmet on after one last brush of his thumb over the lettering, quickly making his way to Anya- 

And leaving nearly ten minutes later with a whole lot of wasted time and not an answer in sight. Anya didn’t know. Time to try Galin. He should know something- he is a language expert, after all. 

His visit with Galin leaves him even more perturbed- and drags Galin into that mood, as well. If Galin of all people doesn’t know what language is inside his helmet… 

“Is it- a curse?” he whispers, looking to his best friend beneath an anxious frown. “Has someone cursed me? A follower of Drogr’s, perhaps?” 

Galin shakes his head. “Curse… that not true. We do not write curse in or on armor. We do not even use curse. I… not know. But I do some search,” he nods, “I promise. I find out what it is.” 

“Thank you,” Kaz murmurs, clapping Galin on the shoulder. “I’m afraid this is going to plague me every waking moment until we figure it out. I’ve never been… superstitious, per se, but I do believe that things like this that go unchecked can cause serious damage. I mean- it’s beautiful, I don’t know how something so beautiful could be harmful, but you never know.” 

Galin nods slowly, taking a moment to process all of that. “Okay- yes, agree. Mhm. But I still look. Go. Go have fun. Go speak to kids.” He ushers Kaz out of his bedroom and into the hall, “I have lots read to do. Bye bye. I have answers soon!” He slips out of his door as well, running down the hall toward the library. 

Kaz huffs a laugh and slowly makes his way to the throne room, repeating the phrase in his head over and over until he reaches his throne. He lowers himself into it and nods for the guard to send the first person in, tracing the phrase into the throne arm with his finger the rest of the day. 

He devotes his free time to trying to figure out what it means, even slipping it into random conversations with people to see if there’s any sort of reaction. Absolutely nothing. And nothing from Galin, either. 

He eventually gets the phrase tattooed on his left wrist in the exact font, traveling to every archive that exists on the planets he visits for missions and tugging his sleeve down to compare. Nothing. 

And so he wanders aimlessly through his life with the phrase looming over his head, ever the center of his thought circle when his duties don’t have him too busy to hear himself think. 

-- 

Anakin wakes up with a soft gasp, wincing at the pain shooting through his arm. He looks down and heaves a sigh, nodding a little. Of course. The whole… arm situation. At least now he knows how to build it best? How to maximize pieces and not waste so much? 

But he is nineteen again. Young, dumb, and utterly alone- you’re no longer his wife. Or even his girlfriend. And even if you were any of those things- you would hate him down to his very core for what he did. 

How tight will his chest feel at the end of the day after he’s talked to everyone he betrayed, looked in the eyes of every youngling he slaughtered, and felt the frozen, barren side of your bond while you watch him try to fix everything from afar? 

Tight enough to snap, he thinks. Tight enough to snap. 

But he is the sun dragon, with a heart and temper of fire and an undying soul. No matter what the Force throws at him to combat his uniqueness… he will survive. Somehow, he will survive. And he will make things right. 

He gets out of bed with another sigh and grabs his big container of loose pieces, starting to lay out everything he’ll need along his desk before settling in to build his - new and improved, yet original to everyone else - mechno hand. 

Where are you? What are you doing? Where… is Kaz? What is he doing? 

[winterkoya]

just enough

aleksander morozova x wife!oc , aleksander morozova family au , aleksander morozova x original female character

summary: Alina’s arrival at the Little Palace forces Irina to realise she might care about her husband more than just enough

warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of smut

part two , part three , part four , part five

masterlist 

***********

“Anya! Eric! Come back here!” Irina called, running after her youngest children, two toddlers that were determined to avoid their bedtime and instead chose to make their mother chase them through the Little Palace. 

“You have to catch us first, Mama!” The five year old girl giggled, running alongside her younger brother. 

Irina was racing across the main hall, she was only five steps away from grabbing the hand of the three year old boy, when she saw something that made her stop so abruptly she almost fell. Her husband was there, giving strict orders to the guards arround them, alongside a pretty, although scraped, young girl. ‘Alina’, she thought. That must be the girl her husband had written to her about. The Sun Summoner he had recently saved from the merciless hands of the drüskelle. She looked up towards Aleksander. He was back home. 

Her marriage with General Kirigan wasn’t a fairytale one. As the daughter of the King and Queen of Ravka, she had been asked to marry the leader of the Second Army as a peace offer between the citizens of Ravka and the Grisha. Aleksander hadn’t been too happy about it either, but he knew he wasn’t in the position of bearing the consequences of being unwise– or selfish. It was either marrying the pretty, dutiful girl or gaining another enemy the Grisha could not yet afford to fight. He would destroy the Ravka nobility when the time came to it. 

“Moya tsarévna.” The guards chanted when she approached them, lowering their heads as a proper greeting for a member of the royalty.

Irina straightened her posture and placed her blonde hair behind her ears, acknowledging the welcoming with a kind smile and a slight head bow. She was a princess. Being the epitome of grace and exemplary manners was her job, after all. 

“Princess.” Alina said, courtsing. 

“Lady Irina is just fine.” She replied with a small laugh, helping the girl back up. “You must be Alina, Alina Starkov, is that correct?” 

“I– I am.” Alina stuttered, admiring the woman’s gentle features.

“I gather you’re a cartographer. We have a wonderful library here, should you be interested in continuing with such a delightful craft. Ivan,” she called, looking over her husband’s shoulder, “make sure Genya attends her. She’ll help you get settled for now, and ready every morning.”

“Thank you.” Alina said, wholeheartedly. 

Irina smiled back at her, but then she heard the sound of tiny footsteps dashing towards them, and so she quickly extended her hands to grab the hands of the two toddlers running between them. 

“Got you!” She laughed. “Now, you must go have a bath, both of you, and after that is bedtime for you little monkeys. And no more running away, is that understood?” She said, kindly, but sternly. 

“But Mama we want to play–

“Children.” Aleksander’s voice echoed through the hall, in a grave tone– but not mad. He had yet to speak angry words to his children, and he wasn’t planning on doing so anytime soon. “Do as your mother tells you and go to your room. Now.” 

The kids, who barely had time to smile due to their father’s arrival before realising he was actually scolding them, finally calmed down.

“Fine, Papa.” They both chanted, not trying to escape their mother’s hold anymore.

Irina looked up to Alina’s face, smiling. “It was a pleasure meeting you, I hope we see more of each other soon.” With one last glance towards Aleksander, she left towards the dormitories, with two little heads walking by her side.

“Why doesn’t Kira have to come with us?!” Anya complained. The five year old was so much like her father, not only in looks, but in personality as well. Anya didn’t ask, she demanded.

“Because,” Irina answered, putting a strand of the girl’s brunette hair behind her ear, “your older sister has already taken her bath and is now waiting for you, in your bedroom.” 

As Irina said this, the three of them entered her husband’s war room, where the only two entrances to the kids’ room and her room were. She found Kira, her seven year old peacefully reading in her bed, with her nightgown already on and her golden hair neatly tucked into a braid. 

“There you are!” Kira smiled, jumping from her bed. “I just heard a guard saying that Papa is here, is that true?” She asked, looking at her mother with hopeful eyes. 

“Yes he is,” she said, as her kids started to giggle with happiness, “and I’m sure he will come soon to wish you all goodnight, but first you two need to have a bath.” 

“But Mama, we want to play with Papa first!” Anya protested.

“Play with Papa! Play with Papa” little Eric started to chant, following his sister’s whines. 

Irina once again lost control of the two toddlers as they started to dance around the room singing about all the things they wanted to play with their father. Irina was tempted to let them get away with it and just call it a night, she was too tired after the long day she had had with them.

“No one gets to play with Papa unless they’re bathed and with their nightgowns on.” Someone said behind them. Irina turned around to see Aleksander standing against the doorframe with a small smile on his lips. The three kids jumped off their places and ran to meet their father, who seemed happy enough to see them. 

Irina knew she was lucky. She might be stuck in a loveless marriage, but she knew she had got it easy: Aleksander had never done as much as raising his voice against her, he had never spoken ill of her behind her back or taken a mistress. In bed, he always asked for her consent first and afterwards he would always hold her against his chest until she peacefully drifted to sleep. He made sure other grisha respected her and severely punished anyone who disregarded her. He did everything a husband was supposed to do for his wife. Except for loving her.

His demonstrations of love were scattered and superficial: had only ever gone as far as a kiss on her temple after making love, holding her hand in a room full of people he didn’t trust, or the three ‘thank you’ he had whispered to her after giving birth to their children (which had almost felt like a promise of love. Almost.) Hardly something more than that.

But Irina had learnt to be okay with it. And so what if her life wasn’t the fairytale she had always dreamt about? She had three children she adored and a husband to share that love with. She was grateful for their mutual respect every single day. He liked her just enough, she liked (loved) him a little bit more than what she considered wise. The important point being, they liked each other enough. Saints knew most of her friends would call themselves fortunate if their marriages were anything like hers. She didn’t have one thing to complain about. And yet, sometimes, she found herself wanting to hear her husband saying he loved her more than anything else.

Irina smiled at the way Eric was sitting on his father’s shoulders, and how Kira was trying to explain to him the book she had been reading, loudly speaking as to raise her voice above her siblings’ screams. Hating to be the bearer of bad news, she yelled, hoping someone would pay attention to her , “Anya, Eric, you have played with your father enough, now please go to the bathroom.” Irina pleaded, taking the boy in her arms. 

Her husband saw what a hard time his wife was having trying to get the kids to behave, knowing he was mostly the cause of the children’s distraction, and so he decided to help her:

“Tomorrow we can keep on playing but only if you do as your mother says and go have a bath.” Aleksander said sternly, which managed to get the two kids walking towards the bathroom on their own. 

“Thank you.” Irina muttered, grateful for his help. She leaned towards him to help him out of his kefta. “I’ve been running after them for like an hour…you could use a bath as well, you know. To clean the journey off.” She added, partly because she knew how long he had travelled to get home, and partly because of the smell coming from his coat.

“I think I’ll get on with that.” He agreed, walking in the opposite direction, towards their shared room. 

Irina bathed her kids, making sure that they were properly cleaned and washed. She let them play a bit, allowing them to splash water all over the floor, and then she tucked them in bed. She kissed all of them goodnight and as she was turning all the lights off, she heard Kira’s voice. “Mama, what about our story?”

“We went riding today, then you’ve had your lessons, we visited Grandmama… aren’t you too tired?” She chuckled. 

“We’re never too tired for a story!” Anya giggled. 

“Okay then,” Irina gave in, sitting at the end of Eric’s bed, “you shall get half a story today.”

“Why half a story?” Kira asked, as she and her sister jumped from their beds to go lay beside their brother.

“Because this is the story about a boy who fell in love with the moon, and then he took something from her. Something that has yet to be found” 

Kira laughed warmly at that, for the girl loved stories more than anyone else has ever loved stories. 

“Once upon a time, many, many years ago,” Irina started, “the moon had a voice. A beautiful voice, so serene that could make even the most stubborn children go to sleep, and yet so alluring that could convince people to declare their love for someone. At night, just before bedtime, everyone would climb to their roofs and tell the moon their biggest secrets, or to ask her for advice. Because the moon had been in the sky for such a long time, she was wiser than the sun and the stars, (who were a little silly, so it was mostly mischievous kids who talked to them, asking their advice on how to create chaos.)” Irina narrated, tickling the three of them, resulting in their giggles.

“And as many years ago, a boy named Jex fell in love with the moon. He would find the tallest building everywhere he went just so he could be the one speaking closest to her. He told her about his day, and in return the moon would tell him about all the secrets hidden in the sky. The way certain stars could help him find the path home when he was lost, how shooting stars were actually messengers bewteen suns (and that’s why they’re such show offs) , and how, if he focused hard enough, he could find particularly chatty stars who liked showing stories.

 (“Are those constellations, mommy?”, “Almost, Kira. Constellations are the ones that recite poetry, easier to spot in the sky but much more difficult to understand; chatty stars merely tell stories.”) 

“And then suddenly, one night, she wasn’t there. The moon hadn’t come out. Jex spent a whole night and a whole day crying, until, on the second night, he saw her again. The moon had returned. But he was so scared of losing her once more, he thought he could ask the moon for a present, something that would remind him of her even during the nights she wasn’t there. And so he talked to the moon, and the moon told him that she had nothing to offer but her voice as a gift. And so one night, following the moon’s strict instructions, he trapped her voice inside a jar his mother had made for him. And so the next day, he spent it entirely listening to the moon. It wasn’t until the next night he realised what a big mistake he had made. Because you see, the moon had only taught him how to trap her voice, not how to return it. So Jex carefully took care of the jar, so afraid to drain the moon’s voice forever that he would only listen to it when he was desperate for some advice, or desperate for some company. And then, when he was very, very old, he hid the jar in the brightest star in the sky, hoping that, someday, someone would be able to return the moon her voice back.”

“But Mama, why is it half a story?” Kira, the only one that was still awake, asked her. 

“Because, legend says that if you know the right star, and you ask her to return the moon her voice, she will gladly give it away, should she find you worthy of it.” 

“Mama, do you know how to talk to stars?” 

“No I don’t malyshka, I don’t think anyone knows how to anymore.” Irina said, faking disappointment. “Perhaps the rivers, or the seas. But they’re difficult to talk to, they’re far too stubborn.”

“Maybe Papa knows.” Kira whispered. “Because he knows how to speak to the shadows, maybe he can ask them to speak to the stars for us.”

“Maybe.” Irina whispered back. “But, we will have to ask him tomorrow. Now go to sleep, we have a big day ahead. Learning to talk to stars is no easy job.” She kissed the girl on her temple, and left towards her room.

Irina was startled to see her husband waiting for her, under the doorframe of their room.  “Saints, you scared me.” She laughed, closing the door behind her. 

“I apologise,” he smiled, “I was waiting for you so we could go to bed.” He lied, not willing to admit he was listening to her story. As someone who has lived a hundred lives, there weren’t many things in the world interesting enough to intrigue him. He had heard every song, read every book, and most certainly knew every tale by heart. But somehow Irina always managed to come up with a story that lured him enough.

“So,” Irina said, taking her dressing gown off, looking forward to Aleksander telling her about last day’s events, “is it true? Is Alina truly the Sun Summoner?”

“She is.” He said, taking his place on the bed, tucking the bedcover over his bare chest.

“How was it?”

“It was splendid.” He said, his vision lost behind beaming memories. “It was the most extraordinary thing I’ve ever seen.” He looked at her with an apologetic look on his face. “One of the most extraordinary things I’ve ever seen.” 

“Well, I’m happy everything turned out alright and that she got here unharmed.” Irina smiled. “By the way, why did Ivan and Feydor arrive here so much later? Are they fine?”

“I had Alina ride with me.” He explained. “I figured no one would dare attack her again with me by her side. Protecting her has to be my– our biggest concern now. She’s the answer to all of our problems.”

“Their problem or yours?” Irina said in a small voice, failing to look at him in the eyes. 

Aleksander stared intensely at his wife, taken aback by her comment. It wasn’t usual for her to remark about such a matter. She usually liked to pretend he was nothing but a normal grisha, leader of the Second Army, yes, but mortal. And he was happy to play along, to spare her mind as well as his.

And so he decided to simply brush aside her comment, not only to avoid a difficult conversation, but because he had learnt the bad way how much of a toll it took on him to think about his wife’s mortality, not that he would ever confess that to anyone. He realised he also was the happiest when complying with Irina's little game.

“As a matter of fact,” he said, hastily changing the subject, “ your mother and father have asked us to meet them in the Grand Palace for a small… demonstration of her powers.” Aleksander added, with a small trace of disgust in his voice. He was probably the only person who disliked the King and Queen more than Irina herself.

“Oh, no.” She whined, covering her face with her hands. “Can’t he just take your word for it?”

“Irina, you know I’m the last person whose word the King would trust.” 

“I know, I’m sorry. I was just looking forward to spending the day with the kids instead of having to get them ready for such an event. And I prefer a two week notice before having to meet my parents.” 

“They don’t have to come.” He sighed. “You don’t have to come either, if you don’t feel like it.” 

“I do have to go, I’m the princess and your wife. It’s my one job.” She looked at him. “You’re right, we could leave the kids here, though.” She added, biting her lip. “But I’m just… scared to leave them alone. Even more now with Alina here, knowing how many people are after her. I just feel more at peace when you’re here as well.” 

Aleksander glanced at her with a sympathetic look on his face. “I’ve already told you, even when I’m not here, my guards have strict orders concerning your safety. And, as much as I hate the old bat, Baghra is here too. No one would dare touch them. I’ve made a vow to protect you and them and I don’t intend on breaking my promise.” 

“Thank you, Aleksander.” 

“It’s my job.” 

Irina leaned over to kiss him, an action very much welcomed on his side. He might not love her, he told himself, but he wasn’t fool enough to reject a kiss from the prettiest woman he had ever laid his eyes upon. She left one last kiss on his cheek, and stroked his face with her soft hands.

After that, each turned their lights off and proceeded to try and get some sleep. Irina rolled over and rubbed a hand on his arm, which he grabbed and put over his chest. It was their routine now. One of the small love gestures Irina was very grateful about. Feeling safe, it didn’t take long for her to fall into a deep, dreamfree sleep. 

• • •

Morning was a typical affair for Irina. Aleksander was no longer in bed when she woke up, as usual. She washed her face and put on comfortable clothes just in time to see Eric scuttling towards her. 

“Good morning mayo solnishko .” She greeted him, with a big kiss on his cheek. “Let’s go get breakfast, shall we?” Irina lifted him over her hip and darted towards the war room, where she was surprised to find General Kirigan and his right hand in. The two abruptly stopped talking when they saw her come in. “Good morning.” She said, hesitating on whether to smile or not.

“Lady Kirigan.” Ivan saluted her. He then softened his gaze to look at the toddler in her arms. “Hello there, Eric.” Ivan was a man of few words, Irina knew as much, with a stern face, but he had always been kind to her and her children. He always offered to watch over them whenever she was busy planning an event, and for that she was very grateful. 

“Hi.” The little boy answered with a tiny voice. 

“Someone’s shy this morning,” Irina chuckled, “you must be sleepy still.”

“Lady Kirigan, do you want me to call for breakfast?” Ivan offered. 

“No, that’s all right. I’ll go down myself, you don’t need to worry. I don’t want to interrupt your business. Please,” she said, “go on.” 

Irina had barely exited the room when she heard Aleksander’s voice. “Make sure Genya arrives at Alina’s bedroom early. I want Alina to be perfect today.” 

“I thought Alina wasn’t in control of her powers yet.”

“She isn’t. But she has me.” General Kirgan answered, smugly. “Make sure to tell Genya she has a black kefta made. Not for today’s demonstration of course, but I doubt this is the last one she’ll have to do.”

“But sir, no one else is allowed to wear that colour.”

“Because no one else is the Sun Summoner, Ivan.” He declared. “I want her and everyone else know that I’ve finally found an equal partner.”

Irina felt her stomach twist at her husband’s words. ‘Hunger’ she thought. That she was probably just hungry and that’s why her stomach felt so upset. Embracing Eric with a little more strength than before, she headed towards the kitchen.

• • •

After making sure all of the kids were playing under the safe care of Lilia, a healer that occasionally babysat her children, Irina went towards her room to change into a proper attire. 

She was stunned to see her husband already dressed, ready to go to the Grand Palace. He was wearing his black kefta, and he looked as handsome as always. 

“Oh, you’ve already changed.” She commented dryly, glancing towards the dress Genya had left on the bed for her. It was a beautiful, midnight blue gown that matched her eyes. 

“I have to go make sure Alina is ready for the demonstration. I’m escorting her to the palace.” He said, while helping her get out of her clothes. Irina felt that hideous twist on her stomach again. “I’m going down now. Why, is something wrong?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“No, of course there’s nothing, I just… I thought Alina wasn’t able to use her powers yet. Are you sure a demonstration now is wise?”

“She can’t, that’s right, but it’s not a problem. I’ll be her amplificator.” He answered, stressing that last word in a weirdly alluring manner.

“Oh.” Irina might not be grisha, but she understood enough. And she knew what an intimate moment the amplification could be. She pursed her lips and covered her body with her undergown. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” He asked her, with an intriguing look on his face. It wasn’t like his wife to be so rigid. 

“Of course I’m feeling right.” Irina blurted. She turned to let Aleksander help her button the back of the dress. “Why wouldn’t I be? You’re just helping Alina.” She added, in a small voice. 

She heard her husband snort a mischievous laugh, as if he had found something entertaining about her comment.

“What?” She snapped. 

“Radnaya, are you jealous of Alina?” The General asked, with a cocky smile on his face, which made Irina feel her heart flutter. 

Irina tried her best to put on a disbelieving look on her face. Was she? Could that upset feeling in her stomach be due to jealousy? 

“Oh, please,” she lied, briskly smoothing her dress, as to try and hide the unsettling feeling growing on her chest, “you and I both know we’re way past feeling jealousy for one another.” 

“Is that so?” He teased her, letting his fingers linger around her collarbones after putting a beautiful diamond necklace on her. 

“Yes.” She lied again. “You can spend all the time with her attending to her, helping her, whatever. I couldn’t care less.” 

He suddenly stopped caressing her skin, and backed away a few steps. Irina tried to figure his expression out, but she couldn’t put any name on it other than uncomfort. When in fact, he was trying to hide his hurting as much as she was trying to hide her caring.

“Fine.” Aleksander said, upset. What he thought to be harmless and lustful teasing between the two had turned into the first real bicker they’d had in some time. “I’ll go down and escort Alina, if you excuse me.” 

“You’re excused.” She murmured. 

Aleksander left with heavy steps, leaving her all alone with a heavy heart while she put on her heels. How dare he tease her about such a thing? Most importantly, how dare she break the unspoken agreement her husband and she had made all those years ago about caring just enough about the other?

She couldn’t feel jealous. Because being jealous meant that she cared. That she cared more than what she was willing to admit. All those years of convincing herself that her husband could never hurt her, because she would never care enough. But there she was, feeling like a fool for upsetting Aleksander with such emotions that –as unreasonable as she realised they were– had made her snap in a completely uncharacteristic way for her. Was it really a young girl all it took for her to realise she might care more than ‘just enough’ about her husband? 

Thankfully, a knock on the door saved her from dwelling on such poisonous feelings. “Ivan?” She exclaimed. 

“Lady Kirigan, sorry to disturb you. But the General has asked me to escort you to the palace, since he’s busy getting the event ready.” 

“Oh yes, thank you, Ivan.” She stood up and intertwined her arm with the grisha’s. He walked her around the castle, until eventually they walked past Alina, accompanied of course by her husband. They seemed to be eagerly discussing words that she didn’t get to hear. Irina glared at her husband, but she still managed to give a kind and genuine smile to Alina. Poor girl didn’t have to suffer the consequences of her insane –and completely unfair– jealousy of her. “Good luck.” She whispered to her. 

Ivan walked with her towards the Grand Palace, where they announced her arrival, followed by everyone bowing their heads to greet her. She climbed up the stairs to where the King and Queen were sitting. 

“Mother, father.” She addressed them. 

“Hello, Irina.” They saluted back, as she stood behind her mother. “And where is that husband of yours?” Her mother asked mockingly. “Unattending you, now that he has a new toy to play with?” 

“Mother,” she sighed, “yes. He’s escorting her here. As the leader of the Second Army, it’s his job. And she’s not a toy, mother, her name is Alina. And she’s the Sun Summoner. The one that will free us all. Give her the respect she’s due.” 

“Well, I guess we’ll see about that.” The Queen stated, as the main doors opened, to let Alina and General Kirigan, followed by their army of grisha, into the salon. 

Aleksander proudly stuttered alongside the young girl, who was wearing a golden laced veil over her face. The grisha behind them stopped on their tracks while the two of them approached the stairs. Aleksander nodded at the girl, and Alina shoved the veil back, allowing the Queen and King to see her face. 

“I thought she’d be taller.” Out of all the meaner things her father probably had to say, Irina was happy he chose such a harmless one. 

“I thought she’d be shu.” Of course it would be her mother who put the poor girl on the spot like that. Irina glared towards her. “Well, I guess she’s shu enough. Tell her.. Oh, I don’t know, good morning.” The Queen added, motioning towards the translator behind her. 

“I don’t actually speak shu,” Alina said, defensive “your Highness.” 

“Then what are you?” 

Irina could see the confusion and fear on Alina’s face, struggling to find the answer that her damn mother had made her. 

“She is Alina Starkov,” General Kirigan stepped in, in an attempt to save her from the humiliation, “the Sun Summoner, moya tsaritsa.” Irina was happy he had done that, since she felt bad enough for the girl. “She will change the future. Starting now.” 

He raised his hand to summon shadows, immersing the room on what it looked like the inside of a dark veil. The room was so dark, Irina could barely see what was in front of her. But she could see enough. Her husband was so close to Alina, his lips were almost brushing her ear. He whispered something to her, and then offered his hand to her. 

The second he touched her, a thousand beams of light emerged from her, so bright that everyone in the room had to either squint their eyes or cover their face. The two of them were left inside a massive orb of light, so glaring that the King had to stand up to believe his eyes.

As soon as Aleksander dropped Alina’s hand, she stopped glowing and the room was filled with nothing but natural light and a soaring round of applause. “Bravo, bravo!” People were exclaiming. 

“How long will she need?” The King asked eagerly.

“Destroying the Fold will be no easy feat.” The General said, walking around the girl. “She alone may not be able to do it. She will remain with me at the Little Palace to train… undisturbed.” He looked at her wife, so quickly that no one could possibly notice. But Irina did. Was he enjoying making her suffer?

Irina’s stomach twisted again at her husband's words, trying to remain indifferent in front of him. When will she be able to free herself for the monster that was growing in her?

“Then train her quickly.” The King threatened him. “Our wars have been a noble pursuit, but this chatter from the West about becoming a sovereign nation, that needs to stop. The sooner we are one country again, the better.” 

“Agreed,” the General said, “moi tsar.”  He proceeded to grab Alina by her hands and whisper something to her that Irina did not hear. He smiled at her, turned around and stormed towards the exit. 

Irina felt her heart drop. Wasn’t he going to escort her back into the castle? She glanced around, but Ivan was nowhere to be seen. Fine. She didn’t need a prince to help her walk down some stupid steps, damn all the protocols that had made her life miserable since she was old enough to speak. She proudly lifted her dress high enough to stop it from touching the floor and headed down on her own. She kept her vision towards the front, to avoid seeing the pitiful stares directed at her from other members of the court, and gracefully left the Grand Palace. 

Once inside the Little Palace, she stormed towards her shared bedroom, and not even the nanny saying the kids were down in the kitchens making a mess stopped her from facing her husband. Her blood was boiling. She could deal with jealousy. She could deal with him flirting with other women. What she was not willing to deal with was disrespect. They didn’t need to love each other, they didn’t need to do as much as liking each other, but they both would always have the decency to respect each other. They would never make the other one look like a fool in front of others. That was their pact. And he had broken it. 

“You couldn’t even help me down the stairs?” She mumbled, once she entered their room. She hastily threw her heels off her feet, and walked towards him to help him out of his kafka. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I knew you were still upset at me, I didn’t want to bother you.”

“That’s no excuse and you know it.” She spatted. 

“Oh I do apologise, I didn’t realise you needed help walking down a couple of steps.” He hissed. 

“Saints, Aleksander, you know this isn’t about the stupid stairs. Of course I can manage a couple of steps on my own. It’s about the gesture. I’m a princess, my one and only job is to wait until someone holds my hand and escorts me down. You made me look like a fool back there. You couldn’t bother to help your wife back into the castle because you were too focused on helping Alina.” 

“Alina again, what’s your problem with her? She’s the Sun Summoner Irina, of course she’ll get all the help she needs, from me or any other grisha in this palace. Why are you so bothered with that?”

“I am not bothered with that, of course I’m glad Alina is getting help, and I want nothing more than for her to feel comfortable here, I just… I…

“Oh Irina, would it just kill you to admit you’re jealous of Alina?”

“Yes! Yes it would kill me, Aleksander!” Irina gasped, her eyes covered in a gleam that could only mean tears were about to roll down her cheeks. “My whole life I’ve been nothing more than the fool princess who dreamt about a life out of a fairytale. But this is the real world, so instead I am the fool that agrees on an arranged marriage because it is my duty and I am the fool that pretends to be happy about it every single day for the sake of my children and my honour. But I refuse to be the fool that falls in love with someone who will never love her back.” 

Aleksander resented the words coming out of his wife’s mouth. Out of all the things he had ever thought of calling her, the word fool had never crossed his mind. She was fierce, because from the day they were married, she had kept her unspoken bow to remain faithful to her duties. She was a loving mother and a caring wife, and the kindest person he had ever met. She was smart, and unafraid to speak her mind in favour of the ones who didn’t have a voice. She was gentle, yet witty; her words could disarm men with the same agility his shadows slaughtered them. She was uncommonly bubbly and didn’t mind laughing at herself. 

He wouldn't call her perfect, but simply because shadows were the only thing he considered worthy of being described as perfection. At night, however, with her naked body against his, during those blissful seconds when the overload of emotions forced him to be truthful to his thoughts, he considered her to be a pretty good contender.

It started with an unconscious smile on his lips after one of her jokes, with the yearning to see her eyes become half moons every time she laughed, with the sour feeling of loneliness every time he travelled. It wasn’t until he found himself missing her in one of his journeys that he realised he might be falling in love with her. So he quickly made sure to step on such weakening feelings, and he grabbed the word love and locked it away, without realising he had merely hidden it behind the pretence of caring, as an unintended way to protect himself. Because caring led to disappointment, but loving… loving led to losing. And he had learnt the hard way that he didn’t like losing.

“You are so sure of that?” Aleksander said, closing the gap between them. 

“Y– yes.” Irina whispered, letting the tip of her nose touch his. 

“My darling, have I really been such an awful husband you can’t even phantom the thought of me having feelings for you?” He murmured against her ear. Irina closed her eyes, and he did so as well, feeling the wetness of her tears on his cheeks. “Wouldn’t you believe me if I told you that every day I get to call you ‘my wife’ I am thankful for that, and that I am grateful for the children you’ve given us and that there’s no one else I would rather come back to?”

“I do believe all of those things, Aleksander” she whispered against his lips, “because out of all the things you mentioned, you didn’t mention ‘love’”.

“Some words are more meaningful when taken for granted.” He said, brushing his lips against hers. 

‘Not this,’ Irina thought, ‘I really want –no– I really need to hear you say it.’ But it was too late. She had already given in to her husband’s gentle caresses, to his intoxicating touch, as she always did. Because if her husband couldn’t say he loved her, she was happy enough pretending this was his way of showing her.

********

author’s note: thank you for reading! i just finsihed watching shadow and bone and i had to write this! should it become a series? i appreciate all feedback <3

[rueluxprince]

Code Geass: Akito the Exiled review:

The thing about Lelouch is that he is hyper competent to the point of being overpowered. Give him an army and he’s very hard pressed to lose. The writers in the original series had to throw curveballs left and right at him (mostly a Suzaku in a Lancelot, then it’s metaphysical Geass nonsense, then it’s nuclear warheads), just to curb Lelouch’s trajectory somewhat. We know what he’s capable of. He conquers the world by the end of the series for god’s sake. So when you put him into literally any prequel/sequel adjacent Code Geass plot-line that is not solely about him, you have to do some severe writing gymnastics to not have Lelouch bulldoze over the entire story.

Case in point: Julius Kingsley.

By the time Julius Kingsley is introduced in Akito the Exiled, we have already established our central conflict. On one side is Akito and the Euro-Universe and that rag tag group of soldiers, on the other is Shin Hyuga Shiang and Euro-Britannia. One side is good the other is bad. There’s angsty interpersonal relationships between the two sides, more metaphysical Geass nonsense is introduced, a lot of EU political intrigue is there too. We know our two sides, we know what they are capable of, game set go.

Except Lelouch and Suzaku gets airdropped right in the middle of it. Because fanservice. The creators are basically saying: “if you keep on watching this movie series about a bunch of random Europeans whom you’ve never met and don’t really care much about. We will give you: Lelouch being an absolute Magnificent Bastard. Suzaku as Knight of Seven but on Lelouch’s “side”. Lelouch fighting for Britannia because we know y’all have been writing a lot of “What if Lelouch remained a prince” fan-fictions and this should satisfy you at least a little. All done in newer animation and in High Definition. So watch the series please!” And we all went, yeah okay we’ll watch the series.

And the writers ran into a problem immediately as Julius Kingsley got going. A massive problem. Because if Julius Kingsley is going to be as brilliant as Lelouch, and he will, because he is Lelouch, then Kingsley is going to wipe the chessboard clean all by himself. Lelouch has proven himself to be Greatest Of All Time. He is going to defeat Akito and Leila’s forces, Akito has a Geass that makes him go berserk? Well Kingsley has Suzaku “I have the enemy battalion surrounded by my one Knightmare” Kururugi. Then, as Shin starts wilding with his whole kill-everyone-and-their-mom thing, stomp down his coup as well. Shin has a Geass that exclusively kills people well Julius also has a Geass that can kill people, and a brilliant strategic mind, and unilateral authority to do whatever the fuck he wants. He’s going to takeover Euro-Britannia and overhaul it’s entire bureaucracy just to wrap it up in a pretty little bow for the Emperor.

The story thus becomes useless. You’ve wasted two movies worth of character establishment and animation. Julius Kingsley will get out under your pen and he will make the world his.

And so the writers quickly nerfs him twenty minutes in. Y’all got a small sip of Lelouch being brilliant! That’s enough now! He’s going to have a mental breakdown due to mindfuckery bullshit and be taken out of the story! Because he’s too powerful otherwise! Thank you for your patronage! Goodbye! Which leaves the audience feeling cheated and unfulfilled and very very bewildered.

So we are in a double bind. I want to see exclusively Lelouch being the brilliant asshole he is. The creators want to tell a story with these new characters. No one is satisfied in the end.

(Side note 1: Same thing happened with the new Ressurection movie. Lelouch has Cornelia, both Suzaku and Kallen, Anya and Jeremiah and Sayoko and Llyod and Cecile. He can take over a nation half awake with those powerhouses behind him. And so the writers gave Shamna an overpowered Geass that can “see six hours into the future” just to even the playing field. Else the fight would’ve been over in twenty minutes.)

(Side note 2: Yeah I know that Julius can’t use his Geass, but hey, you could get Suzaku to jump in front of him if Shin orders Julius to die, taking the order. It would serve so many different narative purposes. 1. who’s absolute command is stronger, Lelouch’s live on or Shin’s die now. Battle of the Geass. 2. serves as a metaphor for Suzaku’s inner turmoil, he wants to die but everyone he loves wants him to live and how does he reconcile that. 3. shows that even when Suzaku hates Lelouch with his entire being, he would still die for him.)

(Side note 3: I mean, it’s not a bad story if Julius gets out under the writers and bulldoze over the entire story. It’s honestly a great way to show how brilliant a commander Leila could be. She could go underground to preserve her forces so our group of war orphan pilots survive, or orchestrate political turmoil in Euro-Britannia to keep Kingsley off her back, or divert his military forces away from her E.U. and into Africa. Kingsley is an unstoppable force but it does not mean it will be a bad ending.)

(Side note 4: how would this series end in this half meta half headcanon? Kingsley takes back Euro-Britannia from Shin and gets most of Northern Africa from the E.U., before the Emperor calls him off with a Zoom call. He is also informed that he is needed urgently back in Pendragon, and would be flying back the day before the victory parade in St. Petersburg. Julius is so excited to see the emperor he doesn’t even feel bumbed that he’s going to miss the chanting crowds he’s been promised. He goes into the throne room, and we are treated to a disturbingly heartwarming scene between Emperor Charles and Julius. Like, Charles going full “I’m glad you’ve returned safe and sound. I’m very proud of you. You’ve brought me honor” fond father mode. And Julius is almost deliriously happy to hear it. Then the emperor goes “your reward. The dukedom of [insert place name here]. And some rest. You’ve worked hard these past months Julius. You deserve both.” Then he activates his Geass, and Julius Kingsley collapses before he could get a word of protest out. Suzaku catches him. Last shot is Suzaku cradling Kingsley’s prone form, staring at his eyepatch. Credits.)

[slashingdisneypasta]

Slashers / Horror Villains as: Animated (Children’s) Movie Villain Songs

+ A Nightmare Before Christmas 

First of all, its mostly Disney. Second of all, I hope you know that this was a struggle for me. 

Also, note, Bubba will be the only Leatherface in this post and Billy and Stu will be the only Ghostfaces. There is Norma Bates though, so sort of a consolation. 

There are links to videos on YouTube ^^

~~~

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher / Ghostface: Playing With the Big Boy’s Now (Hotep and Huy, Prince of Egypt) 

Well... they’re part of the ‘big boys’, now! They are part of the Slashers group that, uh, ‘inspired them’. Imagine instead of Egyptian Gods, they’re chanting Slasher names. 

[HUY] Pick up your silly twig, boy [HOTEP & HUY] You're playing with the big boys now! Ha ha ha ha!

[EGYPTIAN PRIESTS] By the power of Ra Mut, Nut, Khnum, Ptah Sobek, Sekhmet, Sokar, Selket Anubis, Anukis Hemsut, Tefnut, Meshkent, Mafdet... 

Chop Top and Nubbins + Bubba Sawyer / Leatherface: Kidnap Mr Sandy Claws (Lock, Shock and Barrel, Nightmare Before Christmas) 

I mean... they aren't Drayton’s minions, but they are like this XD 

I say that we take a cannon, aim it at his door And then knock three times And when he answers Sandy Claws will be no more

Yes you're so stupid, think now If we blow him up to smithereens We may lose some pieces And then Jack will beat us black and green

Kidnap the Sandy Claws Tie him in a bag

Chucky / Charles Lee Ray: In The Dark Of The Night (Rasputin, Anastasia)

Mystical man? Check! ‘Betrayal’ (As far as he sees it)? Check. Made them pay? Check; I think Nica, Sarah and all the other families he destroys throughout the franchise can attest to that. And ‘One little girl got away’? Well Andy isn’t a girl, but yeah. Check. 

I was once the most mystical man in all Russia When the royals betrayed me they mad a mistake My curse made each of them pay But one little girl got away Little Anya, beware Rasputin's awake

Drayton Sawyer: Don’t Fall In Love (Forte, Beauty and the Beast: The Enchanted Christmas) 

Its such a crochety, unessessarily rude way of describing relationships to someone! I mean, I understand completely and resonate deeply with the desire to be alone and not be responsible for anyone else, but- come on! Beast doesn't share your view! Let it go! 

Its just like Drayton’s reaction to Bubba having a crush. Super cool video too! 

As soon as your heart rules your head Your life is not your own It's hell when someone's always there It's bliss to be alone

And love of any kind is bad A dog, a child, a cat They take up so much precious time Now, where's the sense in that?

Freddy Krueger: No More Mr Nice Guy (Rothbart, Swan Princess) 

A man with an uncomfortable relationship with the main female character pretending to be normal and not homicidal for a while before unlocking more power and letting there inner bad guy loose and taking great pleasure in it? Sounds familiar. They also have a similar vocabulary- except of course Rothbart is rated G. 

I'll become that nasty, naughty, dirty, spiteful Wicked, wayward, way-delightful Bad guy I was born to be

Lyin' loathesome, never-tender Indiscreet repeat offender No more Mr Nice Guy That's not me 

Inkubus: The World’s Greatest Criminal Mind (Professor Rattigan, The Greatest Mouse Detective)

‘Inkubus’ is literally a movie about him listing all his crimes over the centuries and messing with the police force because he has a bone to pick with a detective. Sounds pretty similar to me! Listen to the song! ^^

Now comes the real tour de force Tricky and wicked, of course! My earlier crimes were fine for their times But now that I'm at it again An even grimmer plot has been simmering In my great criminal brain! 

Jason Voorhees: Despicable Me (About Gru, Despicable Me) 

I... this is all I could think of!! But the more I listen to it and read the lyrics... it f i t s Jason so well! XD Please just let this slide; I know Gru isn't really a villain but he is at the start!! Let me have this. 

Why ask why? Better yet "Why not?" Why are you marking x on that spot? Why use a blow torch isn't that hot? Why use a chainsaw? Is that all you got? Why do you like seeing people in shock? But my question to you is "Why not?" Why go to the bank and stand in line Just use a freeze gun it saves me time. I'm havin' a bad, bad day It's about time that I get my way Steam rollin' whatever I see, Huh, despicable me I'm havin' a bad, bad day If you take it personal that's okay Watch, this is so fun to see Huh, despicable me

Jennifer Check: Trust In Me (Kaa, The Jungle Book) 

She’s a succubus demon. Tempting boys into a safe-feeling, docile state so she she can strike is her thing. 

Will cease to resist Just relax Be at rest Like a bird In a nest

Trust in me Just in me Shut your eyes And trust in me

Mayor Buckman and Granny Boone: Savages (Governor Ratcliffe and the Colonizer’s parts, Pocahontas) 

Obviously, because of the (Inaccurate) historical relevance of both movies (Different time’s, same terrible prejudice,) and also because there is definitely a very cult-ish feel about both Governor Ratcliffe’s song and Buckman’s leadership. How easily they’re able to gather support from their people for the most horrible reasons. How horrifying it is to audiences and historians. 

They're only good when dead They're vermin, as I said And worse

They're savages! Savages!

Barely even human

Savages! Savages!

Drive them from our shore! They're not like you and me Which means they must be evil We must sound the drums of war!

Michael Myers: The Gospel Truth II (Muses about Hades, Hercules)

In a Disney movie, Michael would have others sing his song about him as he goes about his silent, determined walking XD 

If there's one God you don't want to get steamed up It's Hades 'Cause he had an evil plan He ran the underworld But thought the dead were dull and uncouth He was as mean as he was ruthless And that's the gospel truth He had a plan to shake things up And that's the gospel truth

Midnight Man: Oogie Boogie’s Song (Oogie Boogie, Nightmare Before Christmas)

A song about a “Gamblin’ Boogie Man” is perfect for the Midnight Man! He and Oogie could be pals. 

Woah! The sound of rollin' dice To me is music in the air 'Cause I'm a gamblin' Boogie Man Although I don't play fair It's much more fun, I must confess When lives are on the line Not mine, of course, but yours, old boy Now that'd be just fine

Norma Bates: Mother Knows Best Reprise (Mother Gothel, Tangled)

Norma is soooooo so so so unbelievably manipulative towards Norman (And Dylan. It just works better on Norman) and this song absolutely presents that. She can go from sweet, loving mother to spiteful, heinous bitch in two seconds if Norman or Dylan don't do what or react the way she wants them to. 

Likes you? Please, Rapunzel, that's demented

This is why you never should have left! Dear, this whole romance that you've invented, Just proves you're too naive to be here Why would he like you? Come on now, really! Look at you, you think that he's impressed? Don't be a dummy Come with mummy

Pamela Voorhees: My Lullaby (Zira, The Lion King 2)

In a opposite approach to a villainous mother to Norma, we have Pam, who was heartbroken by the camp councillors letting her son die and vowed to get revenge. She didn't know she was teaching Jason to be the Crystal Lake killer like Zira did, but she did, and the whole song does have her kind of feel to it also. 

Sleep, my little Kovu Let your dreams take wing One day when you're big and strong You will be a kingI've been exiled, persecuted Left alone with no defense When I think of what that brute did I get a little tense But I dream a dream so pretty That I don't feel so depressed 'Cause it soothes my inner kitty And it helps me get some rest

Patrick Bateman: Cruella De Vil (Arthur, 101 Dalmations) 

Never before was there a song that described audiences reaction to watching Patrick living in his daily life and hearing his thoughts better then this one. 

Cruella De Vil Cruella De Vil If she doesn't scare you No evil thing will To see her is to Take a sudden chill Cruella, Cruella De Vil

The curl of her lips The ice in her stare All innocent children Had better beware She's like a spider waiting For the kill Look out for Cruella De Vil

Pennywise (Both): You’re Only Second Rate (Jafar, Return of Jafar)

Mostly for the video and Jafar’s energy in this scene actually XD So many transformations, so many tasteless puns! I was going to give this to Freddy but its the closest thing to Penny I could think of. 

Go ahead and zap me with the big surprise Snap me in a trap, cut me down to size I'll make a great escape It's just a piece of cake You're only second rate You know your hocus-pocus isn't tough enough And your mumbo-jumbo doesn't measure up Let me pontificate upon your sorry state You're only second rate

Sheriff Hoyt / Charlie Hewitt: Hellfire (Judge Claude Frollo, Hunchback of Notre Dame) 

A nasty filthy man who think’s he’s in the right despite being the biggest creep and monster ever? Mhm. 

*Note: I honestly didn't notice the deformed baby, Quasimodo/Thomas link until the day after I wrote this. Don't know how I feel about it. I mean, Hoyt is actually nice, in his way, to Thomas so the connection isn't totally there but onwards:

Beata Maria You know I am a righteous man Of my virtue I am justly proud

Beata Maria You know I'm so much purer than The common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd 

End of Post! 🌼

(Bonus’ under the cut) 

I did think of other connections which I obviously didnt landed on but still have merit! Here! 

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher: ‘Gaston’ was considered, but that would have just been a joke XD I don’t think Stu is quite as obsessed with Billy as LeFou is with Gaston. 

Chucky: Friends on the Other Side. Obviously! That link was actually what inspired me to make this post. In The Dark of Night fits to a T though. 

Freddy Krueger: You’re Only Second Rate! Ah, its perfectttt. But No More Mr Nice Guy fits better. If I ever do a Slashers as Disney Villains post, he’ll be Jafar for sure. Or Hades. Or Scar. Or Oogie. Probably Hades. You know what? Without the gore and blood and explicit sexual references, Freddy could be a Disney Villain himself. Its not like Disney hasn't towed the line before with perverted villains. >_> (Jafar and Frollo) 

Jason and Pamela Voorhees: Mother Knows Best! Of course. 

Jennifer Check: Love is For Peasants (Barbie Island Princess) Because Jennifer thinks like this: 

Men? <<< Literally anything else. 

Patrick Bateman: How Can I Refuse? (From Barbie Princess and the Pauper) XD If Patrick were a kids movie villain, he would totally join the ranks of corrupted usurpers pretending to be trustworthy royal advisory staff. Also ‘Let It Die’, that little interruption part of another song that O’Hare sings in the Lorax and ‘How Bad Can I be?’. 

[what-the--curtains]

Alliance

Chapter 2 – The Decision

(Mando x f!reader)

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

Summary: The child taken, his ship destroyed the only one who can help him? A woman he sold into slavery several months earlier.

Notes: Wow wow wow! Thank all for the likes im glad ive gained some interest lets hope I can keep it! Comment or message to be added to the tagged list!

Tw: mentions of dubcon/sex, depictions of violence and coarse language

Tagged list: @crazycookiecrumbles

Word count: 3.7k

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

7 months later

Mandos POV

Using all his wits and a touch of charm the Mandalorian had managed to make his way to a nearby town. Once there he’d likely be able to hitch a ride or win some kind of ship in a game of cards. He didn’t need a good one, just something to get him to Navarro. He makes his way to a more upscale bar, hoping its clients would be more lucrative with their belongings. Scanning the gambling hall he chooses his target carefully, opting for a rich looking idiot who had been trying to impress the man next to him since the Mandalorian had walked in. He takes his seat at the round wooden table amongst a variety of lavishly dressed characters. He had to find the child as soon as possible. If he wasn’t with the empire yet there’s no doubt he would be soon.

“Deal me in” He says, taking a seat between an Iktotchi and an Ortolan.

“Not so fast, what's your buy in?” the dealer asks.

“How about that helmet?” The Ortolan pipes up.

“No.”

“The creature then?” the Falleen across the table ponders reaching out to touch Anya, who had been at his side when Grogu was taken and has refused to leave it since.

“No” he says, batting her hand away and tapping on his shoulder piece “Will this do?” The dealer nods and they begin. In the second hand he ends up winning a ship from his target who was seemingly unbothered by the loss as he nonchalantly tosses Mando the keys, before leaving the table.

Twirling the key on his index finger he makes his way to the bar, hoping to gain some insight on how to go about finding Grogu.

“Quite a game, didn’t know Mandalorians played cards.” The older humanoid bartender stated, shining off a glass. With no response he speaks up again. “Can I help you with something , give me something to tell the kids if I helped out a Mandalorian.”

“If someone was looking to find something lost where would he go?”

“You have any idea what this thing is?”

“Yes.”

“Any idea where it is?”

“No.”

“Tell you what, there was a woman, from a forest planet somewhere on the outer rim. Hair as white as snow, an old language on her body, a face that’s hard to forget. She helped me find my youngest after she was taken by smugglers.”

“Vryssa?” The Mandalorian says slowly, causing Anya to perk up.

“Aye that’s the place. You’ve been?” the barkeep ponders.

“Thank you, here” he says handing over a portion of the credits won in his game of cards to the speechless keeper.

Exiting the bar shaking his head in disbelief, of course the one person who could help him track the kid was someone with a personal vendetta against him. At least he knew who he had to find and where to start looking. Opening the doors to his new ship he gives it a quick once over. It was roomier than the razor crest, but not by much, too fancy for his liking in all honesty. Nicer amenities though and a decent sized bed which Anya had made her way onto, it would be a better place for when he gets the kid back. It had an armoury, but nothing in it, at least not yet. He closes it and makes his way up to the ship's cockpit. Decent enough system, more of a flashy ride than a functional one, made for a decently skilled pilot by the looks of it. Locking in the coordinates for Coruscant he begins his search.

For two weeks he attends black markets around the galaxy until one day he sees him, the man who had bought you. He follows him cornering him in a nearby alleyway.

“What do you want Mando?” The Kel Dor responds.

“I’m looking for a woman.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“She was bought by you a few months ago. Not jogging your memory? White hair, eternal blood.”

“Oh. Her difficult one, had to break her in a bit.” The choice of words was less than favourable to the Mandalorian, but in favor of time he brushed by it.

“What happened to her?”

“ Sold her.”

“ To who?” He says getting impatient

“Gladiatorial ring on Geonosis , she was a big hit, sold her for twice what I had paid, moved into the big arenas quickly. I’ll take you if you want.”

“No, give me the coordinates.” Mando says

“Should be easy enough for you to get her. She's been broken in well, nice and obedient if you know…” He knocks the guy out before he can finish the sentence.

R-16, Geonosis, Outer Rim Territories

Stepping out of the ship it doesn’t take long for him to figure out where you are. Large projections of posters with you line the street, apparently you were fighting today. The sounds of the arena increase as he gets closer, as does the crowd of people awaiting the show.

“A Mandalorian, you here to see the fight? Gonna be a good one. Fan favourite tonight the huntress.” A native geonosian exclaims.

“Is she the girl in the picture? The white haired one?”

“ Yes, and if you like what you see I’m sure a piece of that armour will get you a night with her, I’ve heard the trainer sells her off after fights.” The Mandalorian nods and heads off “How much for a ticket” he ask the seller,

“100 credits”

“For a fight?”

“For today’s fight? Yes.” Begrudgingly he pays the fee and enters into the dome. It is enormous, the revenue it brings in must be astronomical he thinks as he takes his seat.

Your POV

It hadn’t been an easy few months, but you were still alive. The handlers knew if they bled you all at once the value would decrease, and after having you fight and win over the fans, keeping you alive became more economically sound than killing you. Your most recent trainer, an older Duras named San Korliks, had gotten you into a slightly more dubious but very lucrative business. Turns out the rich love nothing more than spending the night with a victor. Between the fights and the suitors you’d have enough saved to live comfortably once you were out. Yes you were close to buying your freedom, 12 fights and a few more rich idiots and you’d be out of here. You’d find a planet with plenty of sand and water and settle down living out the rest of your days in peace. You could hear the crowd cheering from your cell, San would be here for you shortly. You stand up smoothing out the red tunic that had seen better days. It was shorter than you’d like and impractical for fighting, but your handler was right sex sells and it had kept you alive thus far. You move to the drawer of the cell, though tightly watched it was decently large and relatively comfortable. More wins meant better quarters. You pull out the gold plated armour clipping the chest plate, arm bands and shin guards into place before lacing up your worn down brown leather boots. Moving over to the small mirror you dip your hand into a bowl of burgundy paint smearing it down your face and onto your neck then around your well defined biceps. You're admiring your work when you hear a knock on your cell door.

“C’mon darling let’s give them a show” San says, he was nicer than your previous trainers, probably as you were bringing in the big bucks. You walk over to the cell door, he opens it and guides you to the enormous door that would soon open up to the arena.

“Try to let a little blood get spilled tonight, we need to sell some.” You nod, cracking your neck and stretching out your arms. “I also have some suitors lined up, high payers.”

“How many more till I’m out?” you question.

“ Just a few more darling, promise.” He says squeezing your shoulder. You hear the crowd chanting in the background as San leaves. You grab the spear left out for you, tossing it from hand to hand to gage its weight. You bounce up and down on your toes shaking out your body and calming your mind and preparing for whatever they were planning on throwing at you tonight. You repeat the number of days until you're free in your head. You could do this, you’d done it a hundred times now. Not that the killing gets any easier, but in order to survive you had to forgo morality. The doors open and the crowd erupts in applause as you enter waving to the adoring fans.

Mando’s POV

The loud speaker blares out over the crowd “ Tonight a special event, the huntress will take on not one, not two, but four opponents! Now to make it a fair fight, only one will be allowed to challenge at a time, but we have a lovely admixture of beasts and an extra special surprise for you all. The return of another fan favorite. Hang onto your seats folks, this is going to be a night you won’t soon forget” Four versus one, Mando thinks, as he watches you enter the arena, the odds definitely weren’t in your favour. He was prepared to jump in and get you out himself if he had too, you were his only chance at finding the kid after all. He hears a rumble of applause as a door across from you opens revealing a Rancor. He watches you closely, noticing how unphased you seemed by it. In no less than a minute he sees the spear fly from your hand hitting the creature right in its jugular killing it instantly. Not bad, he thinks, but it was just a Rangor, yes they were big, but they weren’t known for being strategic fighters. You pull the spear out of its neck, the crowd cheers seemingly alerting you to the presence of the Nexu that had appeared from the door behind you. It leaps towards you and he watches intently as you tuck and roll out of the way, spear still in hand, thrilling the crowd even more.

He wonders how much of the fight is a performance and how much of it was real. You and the Nexu circle each other, seeing you plant your feet he finds himself curious as to what your next move will be. You kick the dirt up causing the creature to charge again, as it leaps you take a knee lifting the top of the spear up, slicing the creature open causing its guts to fall down on you earning more zealous applause from the arena. He sees you stand up lifting your arms to get the crowd chanting, more showmanship. “What can you tell me about her?” he asks the couple sitting next to him. “Never lost a fight, and she’s beautiful, you need anything else?” They reply. He sees you wiping the creature's guts off your face when a door opens and a Terentatek appears, where the hell did they find one of those things the Mandalorian thinks. He sees your shoulders deflate, more so in annoyance, than fear based on the look on your face. It’s obvious you weren’t expecting a creature so large. After a few dodges and spear swipes the creature has you cornered, he sees you look side to side searching for an out, but there isn’t one, at least none he can see. Its mouth descends on you, seemingly engulfing you whole. The crowd is silent, it’s only then he notices he’s out of his seat. When had that happened? A glimmer suddenly appears from the creature's head as it gets brighter; he sees the spear had sliced through the Terentateks thick hide. The creature collapses and the skin on its head separates as you appear victorious. He sits back down observing you closely as you walk back towards the door from whence you came. The announcer's voice starts up again.

“Now for an extras special treat we’ve brought a fan favourite out of retirement, the demon slayer!” Just then the door opens and a Deveronian in head to toe black armour emerges wasting no time in launching his attack. He throws a dagger which catches you in the arm, the crowd erupts, the sight of your blood enticing them. He watches you intently as you bend over retrieving the knife off the floor and tossing it to the audience. Your opponent’s armour was thick, with very few openings in it. The crowd was getting excited, noticing that you had lost the spear to the Deveronian who had thrown it behind him.

You were the more skilled fighter, but the demon slayer was larger and stronger. He watches you try to make a pass. He thinks you’re in the clear but the opponent grabs you by the hair pulling you back into him as he brandishes another knife bringing it up to your throat. You bite down on his hand giving you just enough time to wrestle the knife from him no doubt slicing your hands open in the process. He doubts that this part of the fight was showmanship, both you and your competitor were evenly matched. It was anyone’s game. Your stunt had given you enough time to retrieve your spear. Just as he thinks you’ve gotten the upper hand he sees a mace extend out from one of the slayer’s sleeves, it sparks with electricity. If it so much as hit you, that would be it. The Mandalorian can feel his heart pounding finding himself wrapped up in the atmosphere of the arena as the creature approaches you swinging the mace. It wraps around your spear, the crowd is silent, they think it's all over, but looking at a nearby screen Mando makes out what appears to be a small smile on your face.

The mace wraps the spear and you pull back on it, hard, drawing the Deveronian in closer. As the electricity hits your arm you release the force from the pulling causing the spear to plunge up in-between the opening between the Devaronians chest plate and helmet killing him instantly. He sees you drop to your knees catching the falling opponent whispering something before laying him down on the floor. The crowd erupts in cheers, flowers and money are thrown to the ground, before picking it up he sees you circle back to each opponent kneeling on the ground for a few seconds before rising and moving on to the next.

“C’mon Mando” the people beside him say “blood auctions this way”. He follows them, but half the auditorium seemingly had the same idea and he was too far back to reach you. He sees you standing with your trainer as the blood spilled during the fight was sold to the highest bidder, the crowd intermittently grabbing at you. You’re quickly shuffled out the room. The Mandalorian exits through a back door, as he does he sees your trainer speaking to a Sephi. He hangs back, close enough to hear the conversation, but far enough away so as not to be noticed.

“Room 801. She’ll be ready for you in a half hour.”

“Perfect, makers, where will I go when she’s free? No one has ever compared to her” the client laughs.

“She’s not leaving, at least not for a while. Far too good for business at the moment. Hope’s what keeps her keen though. I oblige in her fantasies, so she can oblige yours ” The Duro gives the man the key and heads back into the arena. The man exits the alley bumping into the Mandalorian.

“Watch it Mando.” The Sephi says, pushing by him. As he pushes by, Mando snatches the key and makes his way up to room 801.

Your POV

“Hey San, how'd the rest of the auction go?” you ask, wiping off as much slime as you could in the small sink. “Good. I’ve put your cut in the bank for when you’re out. We have a client room 801, penthouse, he knows you apparently.”

“Half the galaxy knows me” you murmur “Do we have to tonight?” you ask, wanting to get out of your gear and go to sleep.

“C’mon he’s rich and not bad looking.”

“Fine” you sigh, not like you had a choice anyways. He chains your hands together and leads you up to the penthouse suite, at least you’d get to sleep in a large bed, maybe get a shower with decent water pressure. He unchains you and ushers you into the room, closing and locking the door behind you. You rub your wrists and crack you back stretching out your arms, you hear a cough. Weird, you think, clients were usually brought up after you’d had time to settle in. “I'm sorry I wasn’t expecting...” you say in your sweetest voice turning around. The tone is quickly dropped. The client was none other than the very person who had landed you in this situation.

“YOU” you shout, not thinking twice before charging at him, slipping a knife out from one of your arm bands and lunging for the Mandalorians neck. He grabs your wrists before they can make contact with him, bending them back causing you to drop the knife on the floor. He tries to restrain you causing you to panic accidentally using the force to throw him back against the wall. He crashed into the wall landing on the floor with a soft thud probably wondering what the hell’s just hit him. His hands quickly shoot up in the air, as you pick up the knife again pointing it at him.

“If you think for one second I’m going to sleep with you, you have another thing coming you stupid tin can, you’re lucky ...” you start but he cuts you off

“That’s not why I’m here.” He says quickly.

“ What?” you say, lowering your knife, but not your guard.

“ I’m here for your help.”

“ YOU want MY help? Makers you’re funny, you know I didn’t know Mandalorians could tell jokes.” you say sitting down on the bed across from him as he cautiously stands up, hands still in the air.

“I’m here to get you out” He offers.

“Why? what do you want from me?” you question

“Your help, the child he was taken I...” he pauses, you feel the sadness emanating off him, but you hold the knife true. “I need to find him before the others do, they’ll kill him.”

“Well should have thought about that before you lost him.” you say snarkily. Standing up you make your way to the door.

“Please, I can get you out of here.” He starts, you turn on your heel.

“Newsflash, I’m making my own way out of here just…”

“ ...a few more fights” he finishes for you. you look at him confused. “There never letting you out of here I heard your trainer he’s not letting you go. Something about being too good for business.” Was he telling you the truth? With the helmet covering his face it was hard to tell. From what your grandmother had told you, Mandalorians rarely lied, and deep down something was telling you to trust him.

“Bastard” you mutter moving away from the door. “Well i'll find my own way out.”

“Please” he says, taking a step towards you, causing you to lift the knife up again. “You wasted your money coming here, leave.”

“I didn’t pay”

“What?” you respond and he looks over to you . “You’re not the client?”

“No” he says dryly, as if the answer was obvious. The tension is cut by a sudden knock at the door.

“Shit, you have to hide” you say dropping the knife and pushing the Mandalorian in the direction of the bed.

“Where should I hide behind a curtain?” he deadpans

“I am not in the mood for jokes right now, get under the bed” you say lifting up the bed skirt.

“No”

“Yes” you say pointing ferociously under the bed.

“No”

“Fine, but you have to go somewhere or we're both screwed.” You say turning around to get the door. As you open it you start “look I can explain.”

“ Explain what?” The Sephi asks, pushing past you taking a seat on the bed. “You’re performance out there was almost as enticing as you” you turn back to close the door looking around the room in an attempt to locate the beskar clad man. “We’ve met before, remember?” he asked, as if you would.

“Hard to forget such a lovely night.” You lie, sitting down next to him realizing you were going to have to talk your way out of this one. “Listen, tonight’s been rough, and I want to be at my peak performance for you, we can reschedule for another night” you say stroking his cheek. The Sephi grabs your wrist, harshly. “ No, I paid for it now so I’ll get it now” . Just then you hear a blaster go off and the guy drops. The Mandalorian appears from behind the curtain

“Seriously.” you say, “I was going to deal with him”

“And I wasn’t going to sit and watch it happen,” he responds re-holstering the blaster.

“They’ll use this to keep me here forever” you say, more sad than angry.

“They were doing that anyway” the modulated voice says. “Come with me” he says reaching his arm out, “now or never”.

Standing up, you push past his hand and walk over to the dead client laying on the floor. Kneeling down you rummage around for his wallet before throwing it to the Mandalorian.

“Let’s get out of here” you say

“Here” he says, taking off his cape and offering it to you. You wrap it around yourself.

“I look like a goddamn Jawa” you say, making note of how long it looks on you.

“Come on before your handaler comes back” he says. The two of you make a swift exit, creeping through the back alleys until you reach his newly acquired ship.