#pitting ships against each other SUCKS ASS just so everyone knows

[lexithwrites]

unpopular opinion here, but it does kinda suck knowing that when i write wolfstar not as many people would care compared to if it were jegulus instead—i love both ships with my whole heart, they mean so much to me, but i wish one wasn't seen as 'better' than the other, it kinda sucks

[phantomrose96]

OH FUCK I KNOW WHATS DRIVING ME TO DRINK ABT 938SPS

it's that Mendoza DOES put up with it! It's that everyone's put up with Carson until that single moment! It's that Mendoza nearly went with it! It's that everyone that's ever paired with Carson has been like, wow he's odious. He's the worst. But either not a single thing can be done about it or it never occurs to anyone to do anything about it, especially in conjunction with "well 8 days our time is 41 years, so what is there really to be done?"

It feels like this job would self-select for assholes & people who don't want to deal with problems - it's not like anyone will remember you by the time you get fed up and leave, after all. And where would you go, if you had a problem with a crew member? You're stuck there until you're fed up, and then where do you go from there? It's like the universe's worst cult or something. Everyone that could have talked you out of this is dead in like. 2 weeks time by your reckoning. A month out? Fucking forget it. You're stuck here before it might even hit you that you're stuck, and now the only people alive that could possibly understand you are the other schmucks that signed up for this. Honestly im unwell over this world you very casually built. Barkeep I'd like your finest chocolate milk pronto

(938 Seconds Per Second)

YOU GET IT YOU GET IT YOU GET IT YOU GET IT YOU GET IT.

That tongue-in-cheek thing Mendoza says right at the beginning about "They'll trash your application if you have anyone who could even be mistaken for a loved one" is literally because everyone you've ever known in your entire life will be dead by Week Fucking Two of your first mission.

This job cannot have--as in they WILL NOT TAKE--the kind of person who might get homesick, might miss friends and family they knew, might regret it 2+ weeks into the job at the realization that everything they ever knew is dead and gone and launch into a complete mental breakdown in deep hyperspace traveling 0.99998c where the first pit stop they could even boot your sorry ass at is 200 years ahead of and 200 lightyears away from anything you ever knew.

And you know what? This doesn't just rule out weak-willed or weak-constituted people. This rules out anyone with any human connection. This rules out nearly everyone.

And the only pool of applicants this leaves you with is dangerous. So the best you can do. The best you can select for. Are the subset of applicants who will Put Up With It. And there's no saying what "it" is. You can't expect comradery, or friendliness, or amicability, or respect. Not from a pool of workers defined by their lack of social connection. Not from people willing to take a job which kills everyone they've ever known in 14 days. The best you can select for is people who will just put up with each other. Who will endure.

Dorian is drunk out of his mind 24/7 and stubborn and stupid, but he does his job, and he causes no real trouble, and he endures. Carson fucking sucks but he does his job. Mendoza is probably the star employee of the fleet as a grounded and reasonable man who's simply prickly and anti-social. Sampson is the closest to normal and he's coming apart at the seams, because he's NOT a true shipmate, he's a scholar sent from his dying culture. Everyone he knows is dead and he's so very fucked up about it.

But there's nothing to be done. There's only enduring. Because there is no recourse that can be sought from outside the ship. What greater body is there? Anyone who might hold that power to mediate conflict or dole out justice was born and died in the 2 weeks it took for attempts at self-mediation to fail.

Someone could take a stand against Carson. Someone could get morally fed up with him, and quit in a fit of indignant rage. Give in their notice and walk off the ship whenever the next mission ends. Walk off onto some planet with no one and nothing they've ever known on it and try to start over from nothing.

And the ship would take off. And that person would be dead in 2 weeks' time. Bones on some speck of a planet. Gone. No one on the ship would have any reason to think about them ever again. That could be you, too, if you ever got properly tired of Garret Carson.

There are certain lines that can't be crossed. Killing a shipmate would get you fired. Would get you kicked off, penniless, at the next rest stop planet with whatever local officials exist being informed of your infraction. Once you're OFF ship, then laws, and governments, can apply to you.

But not on ship... Not on ship... and if you're smart--in the unfortunate way that Carson is smart--you can push your luck, right up against that line where no consequences will ever find you. Carson has done nothing fireable. Carson would have continued his days on that ship never doing anything that actually counts as fireable.

It's like the universe's worst cult or something. ...and now the only people alive that could possibly understand you are the other schmucks that signed up for this.

These people have no one going in. They have no one going out. The only human beings even still alive with them are the insufferable assholes stuck with them on the ship. There is no recourse. There is no safety net. There is no justice and no plan except to endure, because the pay is good, because you're being paid for thousands of years of work, and one day you can retire somewhere you've never been with enough money to not have to care that you know nothing and no one.

And until that day, you endure.

[rebeccccccaaa]

sʜʏ ɢᴜʏ

______________________

sᴛᴇᴠᴇ ʀᴏɢᴇʀs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: (ANON) Hey :) I hope I can give you an idea for an imagine. You and Steve are a couple and all the other Avengers ship you a lot. Then on time at another one of Tony’s party the guys tease Steve a bit that he barely has sexual experience and he gets all flustered. Then you take him back to your shared apartment to get him in safety. You cuddle on the couch but then things start to get heated and Steve isn’t that shy guy anymore? I don’t know, something like that maybe if you want. 

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: SMUT! (minors dni plz), there’s a list, so there’s choking, light bondage, major teasing, oral m!rec and f!rec, oragasm denial/control, a bit of degradation and praise ;), dacryphilia and i’m pretty sure that should be it. 

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: oh boy let’s just dive in shall we

_______________________

“You two are just too cute,” Wanda gushed looking at you and Steve. You sat very close to each whispering sweet things and nonsense making each other giggle and smile all night. The team thought Steve really scored one with you. You made him so happy and carefree. 

“Gross,” Nat said, sipping her gin and tonic.

“Oh please, Nat. What are you afraid of; romance? Love?” Tony teased.

“Oh please, I can be romantic,” she said. Everyone went silent before bursting out in laughter including Nat herself, smacking the table in a flurry of humor. 

“I bet there’s no flavor. No spice. All vanilla,” she said.

“What?” you smiled with confusion in your eyes.

“You guys don’t really radiate sexual tension, lust, erotic behavior,” Tony said. 

“Well, that’s something we do in private. Nothing you guys need to know about,” Steve defended. 

“Woah, calm down captain. No one’s saying that’s a bad thing,” Bucky patted his friend's shoulder. 

“Can we drop this?” Steve sighed. 

You and Steve left the party early feeling tired and worn out. Steve’s had a busy week with missions and reports; he just wanted to lay on the couch with his girl and relax. But he couldn’t help but think about what the guys said about their sex life. He doesn’t know why it’s bothering him so much, it was none of their business. He realized you hadn’t defended him too much either. Did you agree? Did you think he was too vanilla? 

“Steve?” you asked softly.

“Yes, my love?”

“I asked if you were going to go to sleep right now? I tell you’re exhausted,” you cupped his face. 

No, just… come here,” he held you close slowly making his way to the couch. 

You kissed his jaw softly laying on top of him. His hands scratched your back softly and you hummed quietly into his neck. He thought back again, because he couldn’t help it, thinking about what the guys said. Maybe he should ask?

“Baby?”

“Hm?”

“Do you like it when we have sex?” he asked bluntly.

“What? Of course I do; otherwise I wouldn’t keep doing it,” you nudged his shoulder playfully. 

“Well, would you mind if maybe we could try some new things?”

“Oh well, of course. Why now?” you asked; you had a feeling this had something to do with what happened earlier this night. 

“Well, I just wanna try something new,” he tried not to smile, but eventually cracked a smile making you grin.

“Baby, you don’t have to be dominator to have pleasurable sex.”

“I know but I guess I just hated everyone teasing me.”

“I know they’re mean,” you scratched his head lightly.

He looked into your eyes lovingly flickering down to your lips. You leaned in knowing his desire, your lips pressing perfectly against his. His hands held your hips lightly and you shifted over and over again grinding on his dick. Steve's hand came up to your neck and slowly wrapped a hesitant hand around it pushing you away.

“You gotta stop teasing me like that if you know what’s good for you,” he whispered against your lips.

“Steve,” you breathed out. You already like this ‘trying new things’ Steve that you’re getting tonight.

“I want you upstairs for me sitting like a good girl on the bed got it?” he practically growled. 

You instantly jumped on his lap and felt his hand come up and smack your ass before you scurried away with a giggle. You trampled through your bedroom door taking your clothes off and sat on the bed patiently. The need and desire burned in your belly and you ached for Steve to come quickly. 

Slowly, after longer than you hoped, Steve opened the door with his unbuttoned whited collared shirt and pair of grey suit pants that he wore for tonight. You bit your lip holding back a moan simply from the sight of your man. And with his dominance piercing through, you couldn’t help the arousal dripping from you.

“Look at that,” he grinned, making you feel shy under his lustful gaze. 

“So pretty,” he walked up to you holding your chin between his fingers to make you look up at him. He traced your lips faintly with the tip of his thumb and you opened your mouth invitingly, wrapping your lips around his thumb. Steve’s eye stayed trained on your mouth; thoughts of them being wrapped around his dick rather than his thumb making him harder with each passing second. 

You noticed his hungry gaze and to tease him just a bit you moved your hand over the prominent tent under his pants, softly pressed and squeezing his cock making him groan. You slowly unbuckled his belt making eye contact and unzipped his pants to pull his hard dick into your palm. 

You slowly stroked his cock in your hand, rubbing your own thumb over the tip. Steve moaned softly at the feeling before pulling his thumb out of mouth and pulling you in a feverish kiss. His knees buckled as he got closer to a release simply by your hand. You liked the power you had but you saw the switch in Steve’s eyes and he remembered that he was going to take charge tonight. 

“You had your fun?” he whispered huskily in your ear.

He softly combed his finger through your hair before tugging harshly and pushing down do you were on both your hands and knees now. You instantly stared and practically drooled over the size of Steve. It didn’t matter how many times he’s fucked you, you’d never be able to get over how big he was. 

“You wanna suck my cock, baby?” Steve teased.

“Yes, please. I want you to fuck my mouth, Captain,” you said seducitvely.

“Fucking hell, baby girl.”

You leaned forward immediately and stared up at Steve with faux innocent eyes. He gathered your hair and you started bobbing your head up back and forth on his cock. You reached down your front; your pussy clenching around nothing desperate for some sort of stimulation. 

“Hands where I can see them,” Steve yanked on your hair. You moaned around his cock, drool spilling from the sides of your mouth. You curled your fingers over his pants trying your best to suck on his dick. He looked down at your and the sight was a beauty. 

You’ve sucked Steve’s dick before but he was usually sitting or laying on the bed and didn’t really ever get a good look at you; you always made him feel too good. But seeing you in your fullest right now, drooling, crying, moaning, he was pushed to the edge and he couldn’t hold it any longer. 

“Fuck, sucking my cock so good. I’m gonna cum,” he grunted above you. 

His hips started thrusting hitting the back of your throat and you squeezing his hips bracing yourself. You tried to breathe slowly through your nose as you slightly gagged on his cock. Your eyes rolled back and you felt his cum quickly going down your throat. You swallowed as best you could and the cum that drooled from the corners of your mouth you gathered with your fingers and sucked on them making eye contact with Steve, who panted heavily after his high. 

“Fuck, baby. That deserves a reward doesn’t. You made your captain feel so good,” Steve kissed you softly. 

Steve took his shirt off with eagerness; his chest was blushed from heat as were his cheeks, a layer of sweat coated his forehead and chest. He pulled his pants down and sat down on the bed. He laid back and grabbed your hand gentlemanly so you could straddle his face, a complete contrast to the energy in the room.

You smiled down at him combing your fingers softly through his hair. He kissed right above where you needed him most but ultimately gave in and kissed your clit. You sighed softly and bit your lip. His hands wrapped around the back of your thighs softly squeezing your cheeks with his hands. 

His tongue dipped past your folds and you gasped at the feeling. He pulled his tongue out momentarily to wrap his lips around your clit. Your body shuddered feeling him suck hard. You couldn’t help the trembling in your legs. 

Steve’s cheeks reddened even more under you but he loved it. His eyes were closed and all he could feel was you against his mouth perfectly; he was heaven. You moaned loudly above him and soon enough that coil bubbling in the pit of your stomach burst and you practically gushed all over Steve’s face. 

You fell forward and Steve sat up immediately flipped over your tired body and towered over you. He kissed you softly and you moaned into his mouth. He got off of you and the whimper you made felt pathetic.

“Awe, you gonna cry? Pathetic little whore desperate for my cock,” his words made you whined again and squirm. He walked back to you holding his belt in hand and you literally shook in anticipation. 

“Arms up baby girl,” Steve smirked.

While Steve wrapped the belt around you and you couldn’t help the smile lovingly at him. Steve noticed your beautiful smile and kissed you before going back to buckle the belt around wrists.

“What’s with the grin, beauty?”

“I like this side of you,” you whispered.

“I like this side of me too,” he winked. 

He kissed down your arms to your chest; his tongue playfully licked your nipple before nipping the bud with his teeth. Steve had enough teasing himself and the ache in his dick was becoming more and more unbearable with each passing second. 

“You’re gonna keep those hands there and you’re not cum until I say so, got it?” Steve grabbed your chin to make you look at him directly. You nodded eagerly.

“Yes, Captain,” He clarified.

“Yes, Captain.”

“Good girl.”

Steve slid into you effortlessly; you’re slick and Steve’s saliva making it easy for him to thrust into you. You bit down hard on your bottom lip trying your best to suffice a moan. Steve moaned softly before kissing you once again. As he slowly and torturously moved in and out of you, it became increasingly harder to keep your hands where they were. 

“Fuck, Captain; I want to touch you so bad,” you whined.

“I know you do; that’s what makes this so fun,” he wrapped his hand around your throat.

“I can feel ya clenching around me dick hard, baby. Do you wanna cum? You wanna make a mess all over my dick?” he mocked.

“Yes! Please, Captain. Please let me cum!”

“Wait baby, you’re gonna wait until your captain cums first and you can let it go. Don’t you dare cum until I say so,” he squeezed the sides of your throat perfectly making you nearly pass out in pleasure. 

Your hips squirmed and wiggled with each thrust; Steve brushing your G Spot perfectly. Tears brimmed your eyes as you desperately held back your climax. As much as you’d love to see how Steve would punish you, you were so beyond exhausted that you didn’t think you could handle any more releases. 

Steve kept his eyes locked with your and when he saw the tears falling from the outer corners of your eyes he grunted loudly moving his hips even more so wildly; the headboard of the bed smacking against the wall over and over again. You screamed in pleasure and your body shook. Tears emitted rapidly down your temples soaking your pillow and sheets but you loved every goddamn second of it. 

Steve kissed you messily, lustfully, sloppy, passionately. Your wrists tugged on the belt in an attempt to free the restraints; you just wanted to hold him but not being able to was so arousing. 

“You ready, baby?” Steve growled, all that came from you were shrieks and whines. 

“You’ve been such a good girl for your Captain. Let go, baby. I’m right there with ya,” Steve rested his forehead against yours.

You looked into his eyes once more before your orgasm ripped through harshly and your body writhed and trembled under him. Steve’s eyes screwed shut as his hips dug into yours with one last thrust spilling inside you perfectly. 

His arms gave out and he fell on top of you lightly pressing faint kisses to your hot skin. He barely lifted his head enough to see the wrists and lazily nbound them. In an instant you wrapped your arms around his neck and shoulders clinging desperately onto him making him chuckled lightly.

“Fuck, Steve. Oh my god, I love you. I love you so much,” you painted. 

“I love you too baby girl,” he whispered petting the back of your head softly.

“That was incredible! The team needs to tease you more often if that’s the outcome, holy shit,” you cupped his face and he smiled innocently at you. 

“I didn’t hurt you or anything?” he asked, grabbing your wrists softly.

“It kinda stings, but if I get to cum like that again, that’s a sacrifice I’m more than willing to pay,” you said, making him laugh.

Steve cleaned both of you up quickly, changing the sheets and pillow cases while you showered, before crawling into bed with you. You clung onto him, wrapping your arms and legs around him. The meeting between your thighs already began to burn deliciously, the feeling of Steve still inside you. You buried your face into his neck pressing kisses and nipping playfully at his skin before ultimately falling into a deep and peaceful sleep. 

The next morning, Steve had tried to wake you but you groaned and nearly cried from how sore you were. You pouted like a child who didn't want to go to school, and because Steve loves you so much he let you stay in bed. 

“I’m going to fill out some paperwork and check in on training and I’ll be back as soon as possible. With food,” he winked.

When Steve got there he wasn’t going to lie, it felt everyone could see right through him; like they know he fucked your brains out to the point where you couldn’t walk but no one said a thing. He went into the conference room to do paperwork like he told you and headed to the gym when he was finished. 

“Hey, Steve,” Nat said after pining Peter down on the mat.

“How’s training?”

“Not good!” Peter groaned.

“He’s getting there,” Nat smirked, “Where’s Y/n?”

“She’s not feeling too well, so she stayed home.”

“Aw, maybe I should come by and-”

“No she’s ok,” Steve blurted out.

Nat squinted her eyes at him suspiciously before she noticed the many hickies and bite marks on Steve’s shoulder, barely peeking out from under his shirt. She smirked and noticed Steve beginning to blush. 

“Run her a bath, get her the rose scented lotion she likes a lot, and give her a massage. From the looks of it, she needs one.”

“Thanks,” Steve said quickly before running off to get back home to the love of his life.

============================

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (For all my work)

@mathletemadison​

@buckybarnes101​

@l-sofiamia-l 

[beskar-cowboy]

Coup d’œil

Part 1 of The Best Things Dwell Out of Sight Series

Summary: The Mandalorian saves you from what quickly becomes an unsuccessful bounty hunt. (6.9k words) ao3 link here

coup d’oeil (french) - a sharp eye or a glance that takes in a lavish view.

Warnings: slightly NSFW (Mando has dirty thoughts!) canon typical violence, mentions of past violence against the reader, mentions of cuts and blood, fluff and angst i guess

A/N: this series will be uploaded in a non-linear order! i realize that this way of doing things might not be everyone’s favourite so please let me know if you would like to be notified when all the parts are uploaded (linearly in my masterlist) <3

Mandalorians had filtered into your work place before. They never stayed as long as other customers, but they seemed to enjoy themselves just as much as anyone else did.

But when he walked in today, you knew it wasn’t for pleasure, he wasn’t here to enjoy himself, to be entertained or distracted. No, he was here strictly on business. 

You heard him ask one of the girls for your boss; a bail jumper, known criminal who was constantly on the move from bounty hunters like him. Your boss was never in, barely stopped by the place he owned due to the high volume of lurking bounty hunters just waiting for him to show up.

Maybe this Mandalorian was just really lucky, or had impeccable timing because your bail jumper boss just so happened to be in today. He was in the back, probably harassing a worker.

It wasn’t long before blasters were being fired, seemingly from every corner of the bar. Turns out the shiny Mandalorian wasn’t the only bounty hunter in search of your boss today. All their tracking fobs were going off, almost like a choir. 

But the Mandalorian didn’t shoot first, he’s much smarter than that. 

He probably wouldn’t have even used his blaster, a blaster would have drawn too much attention to him. He would have gone around back without alerting anyone, using his rope and lasso to tie him up and bring him back to the ship with almost no effort, no hassle. 

But some rookies, some fucking twerps, had to get cocky and show off their blasters, aiming un-preciously, setting curtains and clothing up on fire. This place was about to go up in flames, fast. 

With no sign of your boss, Mando was about to call it quits on this one as he watched the flames grow hungrier and hungrier, consuming more and more of the bar with each passing moment. With the child next to him, he wasn’t so sure the bounty was worth the credits anymore. 

Mando ducks behind an overturned table, taking cover as the child’s closed pod follows him seamlessly. Alcohol catches on fire, fuelling it and sending glass shattering across the bar. He takes a deep breath, gripping his blaster, looking for a way out. 

That’s when he sees you.

Near the bar counter, huddled on the floor with your knees and head tucked into your chest.

Acting on sheer impulse, he rushes over to you, taking your shoulder into his much larger hand and grasping it somewhat forcefully, enough to alert you to his presence. He’s not a threat, he just wants to get out of here before this place is swallowed by the flames, he’s assuming you do too. 

You gasp, big eyes filled with tears as you look up startled at the Mandalorian. He may have been after your boss, but maybe he could get some measly credits for bringing you in as well. Not that you thought you were worth much, or anything for that matter, but you couldn’t help the way your brain was working in overdrive right now. 

You shoved yourself away from him, pulling your shoulder from his grasp with desperate fervour.

You were so used to the filthy touch of men, you’re unfamiliar with a gentle, helpful touch. When you look to the Mandalorian, the one who came in completely uninterested in the half-naked girls, who didn’t spare them a single glance, you can’t help but soften a little, maybe putting too much immediate trust in him.

“Let’s go!” He shouts over the firing blasters. 

Deciding you don’t want to go up in flames with the bar because of your stupid habit of overthinking, you let him pull you out of the crumbing building. 

You stare at him, bewildered and a little helpless if you’re being honest, somehow still afraid of your boss who’s probably dead by now anyways. 

You can’t help it, the fear is ingrained in you, it was beat into you. He'll know you’re trying to leave, trying to escape. He’ll come after you, he’ll hurt you. He always does. He always knows, he’s got eyes everywhere.

The Mandalorian’s hand feels warm and softer around your bicep this time. You let him pull you down the street and into the alleyways until you come upon a giant ship. Maybe not giant but it’s by far the biggest one you’ve seen around here.

The Mandalorian opens the hatch to his ship and this is the part where you’re not sure if you’re supposed to follow him, or get lost. 

He stares at you through the T-shaped visor, probably asking himself the same thing.

There was nothing for you on this dingy planet, no family, no friends, no work besides that bar that was about to go up in flames and out of existence. Everyone knew where you worked, who you worked for. They wanted nothing to do with you. You suddenly realized this was your chance, possibly your only chance at leaving and starting anew. 

The ship groans when the hatch finally touches the ground. You stare at the Mandalorian as you follow him and the floating pod inside, relieved when he doesn’t object. You can still hear the blasters going off in the distance up until the moment the hatch closes behind you. 

The floating pod that’s been following the two of you finally opens up with a mechanical hiss, revealing a little green… baby?

It coos at you and you can’t help but laugh a little at its exaggerated features, still very baffled and dizzy at how quickly everything seems to have escalated within the past half hour.

You follow the Mandalorian through the ship, up a ladder until you’re in the cockpit. With wide eyes, you watch him walk into the pilot seat, flip a million switches and you feel the ship rumble with life. It isn’t long before you feel it leave the ground and you stumble a bit, grabbing something on the control panel to steady yourself. You don’t feel like it’s in your best interest to assume you can just sit in the seat next to him, so you just grab the paneling a little tighter. 

You look out the large windows spanning across the cockpit and you quickly spot the bar you both just escaped from up here in the sky. Where you worked and lived for the last five years of your life. It was all you had come to know, all you were familiar with. You watched it as a sudden shock wave rocked the ship, you stumbled but held your ground, straining to look out the window at the explosion. 

You stare at a mass of angry flames, what once was the bar now fuelling it completely. The Mandalorian had seemed to know so intuitively that it would combust into a fiery pit, and you’re thankful that he found you at the exact moment that he had.

You had been paralyzed with terror, unable to move due to the fear of getting caught in the crossfire or being dragged away by your boss. Your thoughts fade away as you watch the smoke rise high into the sky before a flurry of stars flashes before the windows. 

This time you do fall from the sudden change in speed on the ship, landing hard on your ass. The baby turns to look at you over the edge of his pod and giggles. Your cheeks feel hot.

The Mandalorian doesn’t spare a glance back at you as you lift yourself off of the floor and walk awkwardly to stand next to him. You rub the skin on your elbow that stung from your fall as you look from him to the control panel, and the flickering stars dashing past you in solid blue streaks. 

“So... where are you headed?” You decide to ask after much deliberation on your wording, not wanting to accidentally say the wrong thing and set him off. He had no reason to trust you after all, might as well try and suck up to the bounty hunter. He doesn’t say anything for a few moments before he answers you.

“Batuu.” His voice sounds much deeper now that you’re in the dead silence of hyperspace. The modulator of his helmet no doubt distorting it to some extent but… you can’t help but shiver at his tone, at the deep rumble of his voice as it passes through you. 

“Great, I’ll just… I guess we’ll part ways once we’re there.” You nod at him even though he’s not looking at you. He doesn’t say anything in response.

At the sound of your voices, the child babbles from where the pod floats now next to you, probably wanting to be included in whatever conversation he thought the two of you were having. You turn to look down at him and smile when you meet his big black eyes. He was very precious and you couldn’t help but wonder what a young child was doing travelling with a big, bad bounty hunter.

With your head turned to study the child, Mando finally turns to look at you, look at you properly since you two fled the bar. 

Your hair and skin were dirty, flesh below the knees littered in bruises and dirt. He wonders to himself what exactly your job was at that bar? 

He asks himself this as if feigning ignorance, as if he does not notice your scantily clad body in that see-through dress, nothing but thin, white material and a thong underneath. As if you are not covered in bruises that may have been left from the rough hands of men who knew no boundaries. 

He pulls his eyes from you, he really fucking does because he feels somewhat angry for you, angry at what seemed to be your life and your job. He feels no desire to participate in the act of looking at someone who does not care to be looked at in that manner.

You turn back to face him, catching him off guard as you notice him analyzing you. You look at him with those big fucking eyes and that’s when he notices your split lip, the dark circles of fatigue, maybe even a black eye.

You can feel the way he looks at you is not with malicious intent but you can’t help but wonder how truly beat up you must look, how tired. He seems a bit taken back when you accidentally meet his eyes from beneath the visor… it must be bad.

“Your lip?” He’s unsure how to ask if you’re okay, if you need something or if you’re badly injured. He’s even more confused when you scoff and roll your eyes. 

“The other guy looks worse.” You huff, crossing your arms, feigning annoyance or arrogance but it comes out small and unsure. 

Mando looks away then, when your arms cross and press your breasts snuggly against each other. He regrets the way he begins to feel hot underneath his helmet, his beskar. 

But you hear something of a breath from underneath his helmet, maybe he was laughing along with you. At least, you hope he was. You’d rather that than him pitying you.

God, you hated how pathetic you seemed, how helpless and small you must seem to him. You were thankful for his rescue, for the semblance of warmth and compassion he’s shown you so far but… But you’re just not used to this, therefore you don’t know how to accept it and show how thankful you truly are. 

You both sit in silence for several moments. You sort of admire him while he pilots the ship, flicking switches and pushing buttons every now and then while you steal glances at the child, waving to him and watching him wave back and make those little noises, wondering what he’s trying to say to you. 

Mando thinks your laugh is sweet as it floats through the air every now and then, he wonders what it would sound like through his ears, without the receivers influence in his helmet. He likes how at ease you seem with everything, with him, even though he’s not quite sure what he’s done for you to feel that way.

“Would you like to use the ‘fresher?” He asks suddenly and you try not to appear startled at the sudden sound of his gravelly voice. He realizes he should have offered you the opportunity to wash off a lot sooner and he mentally kicks himself for it but, better late than never.

He’s turned to look at you expectantly. All you can do is nod your head. 

Cute, Mando thinks.

He stands up, towering over you and standing incredibly wide. You follow him as he leads you back down the ladder and into the main area that you had come in through. The refresher was just through a slender door that you had missed when you came in such a hurry. You step inside and start to close the door behind you when the Mandalorian says, 

“I’ll be in the cockpit when you’re done.” You nod and close the door once he leaves. 

Mando lingers on the other side of the door, screwing his eyes shut at the damned images that play through in his mind. 

Ones of you undressing, stepping into the shower, the shower he uses. 

Fuck, he had already basically seen all of you, there wasn’t much left to the imagination thanks to your dress. 

If he wasn’t wearing the helmet, he’d press the palms of his hands into his eyes until the sinful images dissolved into stars and static. But he is wearing the helmet so he shakes his head and lifts himself back up into the cockpit to distract himself with the millions of flickering buttons that he could be pushing on the dashboard.

Back in the refresher, you turn to look at yourself in the mirror that hangs above the sink incredibly slowly and reluctantly. 

There were no mirrors in your old place of work. Boss said it would distract the girls, pull attention away from the customers. Now maybe you knew why.

The bags underneath your eyes were dark, almost like you had a black eye on your right one. Then again maybe you did, the cut on your bottom lip would certainly indicate that it was a possibility. That guy had hit you pretty hard after you refused to fuck him now that you think about it.

You weren’t one of the girls that fucked, you served the drinks that intoxicated them out of their minds. 

But all the girls had to wear the same, debasing outfit either way; sheer white dress, black thong, combat boots. No socks. 

No wonder the customers got confused.

Deciding you didn’t want to look at yourself anymore, you quickly pulled your dress from your body, slipping the thong down as well before tinkering with the knobs and buttons of the shower. Eventually you managed to get the water hot enough to wash the grime from your body and you sigh, relaxing under the loving caress of the stream. 

You never had a shower to yourself at your work. Someone always hosed you down, all the girls standing in line, the weekly routine.

It saved water they said, but the water was always freezing cold, the hose down and harsh scrubbing that immediately followed only lasted ten minutes anyways. How much water could they have been really saving? A hot shower was a luxury you were never afforded, so you closed your eyes and tried not to cry at the embrace of the scalding water. You dipped your head down and watched the water drip, watching as it swirled down the drain with a dark red and brown tint to it.

Without snooping through the Mandalorian’s things, you found a bar of soap resting on a ceramic ledge in the shower. You lather it between your hands quickly, not wanting to waste his soap. You scrub it gently along your body, relishing in the sweet slippery slide of your careful hands. When was the last time you received a loving touch, even from yourself?

You ignore the sudden images that float through your mind; a faceless man, tall and wide like the one up in the cockpit, naked and scrubbing himself with the same soap you’re using now. You wondered if the earthy smell clung to his skin the way you hope it clings to yours, hoping it reminds you of a brief moment you were living in luxury, in comfort and dare you say safety. 

Eventually the hot water does start to run cold, you didn’t quite expect a ship to have a great hot water supply anyways. Upon turning the water off and stepping out, you realize there aren’t any towels for you to dry off with.

You then notice a small bin in the corner of the refresher, you peek inside finding a pile of dark clothing. You reach in and pull out the first thing you can grab, a black long-sleeve shirt. 

This must be his… 

You bring it up to your nose, inhaling the sweet scent. It smells like skin in the summertime, sweet and nutty, whatever cleaning product used on it only slightly lingering, almost like he slept in it too many times, deeming it dirty and throwing it in here for future washing. 

You reach for your dress, deciding to dry off with that and slip on his used shirt to wear instead. You think it smells good as you pull it over your shoulders, letting it fall to the middle of your thighs, the sleeves going far past your hands. Stars, this guy was huge. 

You throw your dress in the hamper, thinking that he won’t mind disposing of it once he realizes you’ve left it behind. But you keep your underwear, pulling it up onto your hips before you exit the refresher and are greeted by those big black eyes of the child.

“Hi there.” You smile, crouching down to the floor to be more level with him. He babbles and waddles towards you, stretching his little arms out. You hold your hands out for him to grab and play with, not feeling totally confident in yourself to pick him up, mostly because of the arguably overprotective Mandalorian sitting right upstairs. 

His small, three-fingered hands latch onto your own, prying your fingers apart and trying to put them in his mouth which you softly discourage with a soft ‘hey, don’t do that’, and ear rubs to try and distract him. 

A loud thud comes from behind you, close to where the ladder is and you yelp, jumping away from the kid. The Mandalorian stares at you, or maybe glares, you can’t tell from the way his helmet gives way to no emotions whatsoever. 

“I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t-” You begin to stammer, trying to apologize to a fucking Mandalorian for playing with the child, for all you knew was his son. You guess he could be green underneath that helmet and you wouldn’t have a clue.

A small coo cuts you off and you look down to see the child waddling towards you on the ship floor. His arms are stretched out again, reaching for you but he settles on putting them on your ankle.

Normally, Mando wouldn’t be so lax about a stranger being so close to the child, he wouldn’t be lax at all actually but...

But the way the kid is drawn to you, reaching for you, he can’t help but trust the little womp rat as a judge of character.

Mando’s eyes follow the child, watching him put his little hands on your ankle, your bare…

Oh.

You stand there in nothing but his shirt. 

His shirt. Fuck… Where did you even find it? 

Of course you wouldn’t want to put that scrap of material called a dress back on after washing off. He feels bad for not having the foresight to have offered you some clothing beforehand, although he would have had nothing better to offer you than another version of that same shirt, so he supposes it worked out all the same in the end anyways. 

You made the shirt look so much bigger with the way it seems to swallow you whole. Your perfect legs, bruises and all on full display, your hair dripping wet, soaking wet patches into the shirt, making your- fuck… making your nipples hard as you stand there nearly trembling in his gaze.

“It’s okay,” Mando’s voice is strained, hoarse and maybe a few octaves lower. He clears his throat before continuing, not wanting to come off as mad or upset. “He clearly likes you.”

You laugh nervously, looking down at the child who looks back up at you with big blinkey eyes, clearly trying to tell you something from the way he will not stop babbling. “I guess…”

The Mandalorian takes a few long strides towards you until he’s picking up the child from the floor, holding him against his chest, as if trying to show him to you in a more effective manner. You feel hot, nervous from how close he stands to you. 

Without the context of the child, there was a deadly bounty hunter, standing less than a foot away from you. You couldn’t help the way you trembled, you hoped he couldn’t tell. 

You reach your hand out to the little green child before stopping and looking up to the tall man, asking, “Can I?”

Mando shudders but nods his head. He watches you as you gently prod and rub the child’s ears and forehead, completely taken by your beauty. 

The shower seems to have done you good, you seem more at ease and he feels like he can truly see your face now. Clean skin save for the few cuts on your lip and under your right eye. But even the cuts seem less coagulated and crusted over. You probably scrubbed them too hard in the shower, he feels like he can see tiny bits of fresh blood near the ripped, purpled skin. He has bacta spray, maybe he should offer to clean it? What if it got infected-

“Is he yours?” You ask suddenly, voice small as you look up to the Mandalorian and his breath catches in his throat again. 

Did you know how deadly you were? Those eyes, that face… He hopes you don’t hear the way his heart pounds, but you don’t, you couldn’t, not over the baby’s relentless talking and squealing.

“Yes,” Mando answers too quickly, realizing very suddenly that he does not want you to think that he was green underneath all that beskar. “N-no, I’m-” not that there’s anything wrong with being green, he just- 

Fuck.

“Adopted?” You ask, sensing his inner turmoil. You hadn’t meant to ask such an intimate question, you were honestly stunned he even answered it, or at least tried to answer it.

“Yes, adopted.” You nod, seeming to understand to some degree. Thankfully, you don’t press it further.

“We’ll arrive in Batuu by morning. You’re welcome to sleep in the cockpit.” The Mandalorian says, changing the topic.

“Okay.” You follow him back up the ladder, letting him go first which he quickly realizes is so he doesn’t get a full view of your underside.

Sometimes he really is thankful for the helmet, especially with how much he seems to be blushing around you. He’s not typically like this, he’s not one to blush and stammer, people don’t make him feel hot, flustered, depraved. 

But then again he’s never let someone like you catch a ride with him, shower in close proximity, play with his adoptive son… all in less than an hour of meeting each other. 

After what felt like minutes but was more close to an hour, your eyes become droopy, feeling heavy as you fight to keep them open. Even though you’re still in hyperspace, you can’t help but feel like you’re missing out, missing out on seeing a galaxy whiz by that you would otherwise never have seen if it weren’t for Mando (short for Mandalorian, he informed you from the few questions he reluctantly answered). 

The child is asleep in his pod next to you, cozy and wrapped up in his long tunic and a thick blanket covering his body. You can’t help but feel a bit jealous, wishing you had something half as cozy and warm as that blanket looked. Your knees were tucked into your chest, arms wrapped around to hold them for extra warmth. 

But you’ll take what you’re given, you’re thankful for what Mando is providing you with, what he’s giving you; a new life, a fresh start, a second chance-

“Thank you.” You mumble, you whisper. You’re not quite sure if Mando catches it before your head is lulling to the side, then resting on your knees as you succumb to slumber.

Mando’s helmet turns to you when he hears you mumble something incoherently. Maybe you were sleep talking? He looks at you and finds you in the same position he found you in back at the bar. Head and knees tucked into your chest, this time with your bare feet hanging off the edge of the seat. 

His heart pounds. Like actually fucking pounds at the soft rise and fall of your back with each heavy, sleep laden breath you take. The way your toes and feet slightly twitch every now and then, the way your legs bend, the soft pull of skin around your knees, your thighs.... 

Once his eyes get too far up your leg he realizes that if he were to bend forward in his seat, even just slightly, he’d get a full view of that spot in between your thighs covered by the racy material of your underwear… his shirt you wear riding up over your hips with your position, there was no way you weren’t completely exposed to the open air of the cockpit.

But Mando wouldn’t dare look, wouldn’t dare peek at you, especially not… not that part of you. You seemed trusting of him for some reason. Maybe it was because he travelled with the child, maybe that gave him a sort of false air of trustworthiness, of gentleness perhaps? Mando doesn’t know, he’s not quite sure. The only thing he’s sure of right now is that he needs to drop you off in Batuu so he can stop thinking about the way you make his cock swell. 

How easily you made his cock swell, feel hot, heavy, starved.

Mando groans to himself, keeping it muffled in his helmet, scared to wake you or the child.

This was going to be a long night.  

//

The hatch opens and a warm gust of wind flows into the ship you’ve now come to know as the Razor Crest. 

You hold the long shirt down with one hand while shielding your eyes with the other, the harsh sun blinding you for a moment. You hadn’t realized how dark the inside of the Crest was until now. 

You had never been to Batuu, you hadn’t been anywhere for that matter, but as you step out of the ship, you think it might be the prettiest planet you’ve ever seen.

Mando had landed the ship in a secluded area, surrounded by dense trees and across a clearing from a lake. You wish you could stay here and rest with them but that wasn’t what you two had agreed upon. Mando had business here and he would escort you into town, and then that would be it, you’d be on your own. 

You tried not to think too hard about the fact that you were about to be walking around a densely populated city, wearing nothing but a long shirt, a thong and some boots without any socks. Mando didn’t seem too phased by it at least, but then again, he was wearing a ton of beskar and probably wasn’t worrying too much about your appearance. 

You walk alongside him regardless, not having much say in the matter. You could buy new clothes once you got into town.

The child’s pod floats on Mando’s other side, where he can keep a watchful eye on him as you walk through the wide streets of the town. You look around, coming to terms with the fact that this is where you live now, this is your new home. 

You feel your lip tremble, suddenly overwhelmed with how unfamiliar everything is. Where do you even start? Where do you go? Who do you talk to? What do you do when night falls-

“Are you hungry?” Mando’s deep modulated voice suddenly cuts off your quickly derailing thoughts which he noticed due to your shaky breaths, trembling lip and shiny eyes. You sniffle and run your hands down your face. 

“What?” You pretend you don’t hear what he said, trying to distract from the fact that you’re trying not to cry.

“When was the last time you ate?” He asks instead, realizing now that neither of you have had anything for almost twenty four hours now. You were probably starving, thirsty, parched. Your lack of response is enough of an answer for Mando.

He changes trajectory, leading you down the road to a rather big establishment with music flowing out the wide opening. A cantina. 

Eyes catch and follow the shiny man as the three of you walk into the place, taking seat at the relatively empty bar. Within seconds of having sat down, the bartender is scurrying over and standing in front of the brooding Mandalorian.

“Broth and a jug of water.” Mando orders and the bartender scurries off as quickly as he had come over. 

You look to Mando inquisitively with a furrowed brow, wondering why he had only ordered food for one- oh. Right. The helmet. He cannot remove the helmet.

The food and water arrives too quickly and you feel awkward, you feel bad eating in front of him, knowing he can’t have any and fuel himself too. 

“I-It’s on the house.” The short man stammers, scurrying away once again before Mando can say anything. Not that he would anyways, he just looks at you, carefully sliding over the full bowl and jug to you without paying any mind to the bartender. That was...

That was kind of hot. Butterflies erupted in your stomach and your cunt involuntarily clenched at how easily he displayed dominance. 

The broth steams and makes your stomach growl, but you go for the water first, downing it all in one go. You hadn’t realized how thirsty you were. 

Mando watches with endearment, watches you hold the oversized jug with both hands, tilting your head back to get every single last drop. He watches the way your neck extends, how it cranes back so elegantly, how it bobs. He thinks he’d like to touch it, maybe even kiss it, lick it-

“Thank you.” You say to him, in between heavy breaths due to the way you nearly inhaled the water. Mando nods, pivoting on his stool and resting his elbows on the bar, taking in the patrons of the cantina, surveying. He needs to do anything but look at you right now.

You with those killer eyes, wet, shiny lips and heaving chest, chest clad in his shirt, naked breasts pressed up against the fabric he once wore. He could feel the way his blood pumped out of his head and down to his cock, making it painfully twitch underneath his armour.

As you move on to the broth, you take in the sights of the cantina as well, looking at all the different types of species that fill up the booths, so many types of creatures you’ve never seen before. You wonder if Mando notices those particular ones that stare, including this blue guy off in the corner. He seems big, muscular, a wicked smile curling his lips as he looks directly at you. You wonder if Mando sees him. If he does, he doesn’t seem too worried. He is covered in extremely luxurious beskar and travelling with a tiny green child after all, he’s probably used to it by now. 

And a half naked girl isn’t that much of a switch up for him, is it?

You finish the broth rather quickly, all the while keeping your eyes trained on the blue fellow who seems to have moved closer to the three of you, stalking. 

“I have to go to the bathroom.” You announce, standing up and quickly pulling the long black shirt down to cover your ass. Mando nods.

“We’ll be out front.” You nod back, scurrying off to the back of the cantina, standing behind a random man perched on a stool at the far end of the bar who talks to another patron. You watch the blue man as he not-so-subtly follows Mando and the child out of the bar. 

Just as you expected, a stalker. Nothing you weren’t used to dealing with back on your home planet.

You notice the man you’ve crouched behind is armed with a blaster, a blaster that’s poorly holstered to his waist. It’d be so easy for someone to just, 

Snatch it. 

You rush out the back exit of the bar, seeing Mando and the child off in the distance, near the main entrance. The blue man standing only a few feet in front of you with his back turned towards you. Perfect. 

“Hey Mando!” He yells, his speech slurred, heavily intoxicated. You roll your eyes, switching the safety off on the lightweight blaster in your hands. Mando pivots leisurely, searching for the direction the voice came from before his visor falls on the giant blue man. You see the blue guy reach for his own blaster and,

Thud.

He falls to the ground, a burning red ring singeing the flesh in the middle of his back. He falls forward, face down in the ground as you emerge from behind him, blaster in hand emitting smoke from the barrel.

Mando is.... He’s stunned to say the least. And he’s not quite sure what he’s more stunned at.

The fact that he hadn’t noticed this guy beforehand. The fact that you did. How you sneaked off, forming a plan without him clueing in. How you snuck up on all of them. The fact that you have a fucking blaster. The way you stood there, feet firmly planted on the ground, legs apart, solid, long, arms outstretched in front of you, your one eye that was screwed shut in focus slowly opening again. Where did you-

“Where did you get that?” Mando sneers after menacingly marching over to you, gripping one of your wrists tightly into his fits and dragging you away from the body and into the weaving alleyways. You only answer him once he’s allowed you to pull yourself from his vice grip. 

“I grabbed it off some guy in the cantina.” You shrug, like it’s not a big deal, like you don’t know how much it’s turning him on.

Mando snatches the blaster from your hand, inspecting it and then quickly shoving it into his own holster. You feel as though he’s glaring at you from underneath the helmet. You look to the kid, he seems concerned, big eyes shining, ears pointing downwards.

“I saved you guys,” you glare back at Mando. “The child could have been harmed, or worse...” You trail off, not wanting to think of any harm coming to this precious child, even if you barely know him or his adoptive father. You couldn't believe he was upset with you about this.

Mando continues to stare at you, his chest expanding with each heavy stress laden breath he takes as your words settle into that thick skull of his. 

The child… could have been killed, his son. He could have been harmed.

Mando’s blood had rushed right out of his head and down to his crotch the moment he first saw you, he hasn’t managed to form a coherent thought since. 

Maybe he really did need to get rid of you.

As much as Mando had panicked when he had been deemed the child’s (however temporary) father, he could not imagine a life without him anymore.

His son. Adiik.

You watch Mando’s helmet tilt from you, down to the child before it sags even lower, staring at the ground. You scoff and roll your eyes at his lack of a response. Whatever, you were supposed to get lost anyways. 

Without another word, you turn on your heels and begin to walk down the dirt path, trying to think of a game plan as you kick at small rocks with your boots.

Mando begins to panic at the sight of you leaving. He thinks back to when he first delivered the child to the client. The regret, the fear, the shame, the guilt he felt as he left that forsaken building and walked all the way back to his ship before deciding no, he couldn’t give up a child like that. He couldn’t part from the little womp rat. He felt it in his bones, his being. Now that same feeling ebbed through him as he watched you walk away from him and his son. 

Regret, fear, shame, guilt.

“Wait.”

You stop dead in your tracks. Your bare legs halting their hypnotic motion. Mando’s heart leaps in his chest, a glimmer of hope. 

“What?”

Mando takes a deep breath, his beskar feeling too constricting, too tight. 

“Stay.” You don’t say anything, you just continue to stare at him. Mando tries to think of an excuse, an excuse worthy of your devotion. “T-the child has clearly taken a liking to you.”

It was true, the child had grown attached to you very quickly, for reasons unknown to either of you. Maybe it was just a kid thing but Mando can’t help but trust the child, trust whatever affection he’s already grown for you. 

You had stolen a blaster and you had used it to save them instead of threaten them for money, food, the Crest, or whatever else you could want. Mando couldn’t let that fact fly over his head, nor could he ignore the way it made his heart hurt with some emotion he had never experienced before.

Besides that, being a single parent and bounty hunter was not the easy task. It was no life for a child, and Mando couldn’t imagine how much the child’s quality of life would improve if he had someone else around to help him, to help him give the kid the attention and love he needs and deserves. 

Not that he didn’t love the kid but… but his line of work just made it difficult to separate work life and home life. He doesn’t even consider it a home… but maybe, with you -

“I’m not a babysitter.” You shrug, sounding exasperated but with no real malice behind your words. You look to the child, eyes wide as he coos, arms reaching for you like they have been since you met these two. It breaks your heart a little.

You try and convince yourself not to stay with someone who could keep you safe, protected from literally anything in the galaxy… 

No. You can protect yourself. You don’t need him. You don’t need his shiny armor and large ship… you especially don’t need the way your belly swoops whenever he speaks in that low, deep voice. 

You turn on your heels, swaying on your legs like you're debating just walking away again and Mando’s heart beats, beats, beats so fast he feels like he might pass out.

“I can pay you.” Your movements stop and you hesitate, looking to the ground for an answer, like it would be spelled out for you in the sand. The prospect of money is… comforting, intriguing.

“How much?” You say, voice quiet and a little ashamed. Mando tilts his helmet, deliberating over an appropriate amount.

“10 percent of what I collect.”

“Make it 40, that kid looks like a lot of work.” Mando scoffs, rolling his helmet and tilting it as if to taunt you. 

You weren’t wrong, he thinks to himself.

“20.”

“40.” You say forcefully, unbudging. 

Mando stares at you, refraining from throwing another pair of numbers in your face, helmet still and menacing. It seems 20 percent is as low as he’ll go. 

In reality, a 80/20 contract is a much sweeter deal than you would manage to snag anywhere else. No matter how much the Mandalorian makes, which probably isn't a lot but clearly it's more than enough for him and the child, especially if he’s willing to bring you on board to live with them. 

“I guess… I guess 20 works.” You finally answer after realizing he was hanging on your every thread for an answer, some indication that you’ve agreed to such a strange arrangement. 

“Yeah?” He tilts his helmet at you. You suppress some feeling of a smile pulling at your lips, a feeling that makes your cheeks ache. The child seems joyful too, as if he can understand the two of you and the contract you’ve just agreed upon. 

Mando feels like he’s high, like his heart is going to burst through the pounds of beskar which covers it so securely. 

You’ve agreed, you’ve agreed to stay with them. With him. He thanks whatever Maker is out there that you can’t see his face right now, can’t see the ways you make him blush, make him flustered.

“Yeah, Mando.”

“Good. Now... let’s go get you some real clothes.”

[forlornmelody]

Resurrection Day

Rating: M (just a lot of angst, really. Character death, some graphic violence, and an afterglow moment)

Fandom(s): DC Comics

Ship: Jayrose, RedArse, 

Linkage: Ao3

Summary:   The Outlaws have always had a funny relationship with death, but when one of their own dies, they try to rise from their mistakes.

Note:  Idk if this is a fic, or more my headcanons strung together. Enjoy? 

-*-*

“Do you ever regret it?” 

Jason only half-hears her, his eyelids heavy, and his body so relaxed with release that he might never move again. “Mm?” he mumbles, pulling his body through quicksand so he can lay on his side and face her. 

Rose’s skin still glistens in the evening light, her hair mussed, and her face flushed. Her voice still throaty from moaning and screaming that Jason’s too busy reliving those last straining moments he almost doesn’t hear her again. “Do you ever regret...coming back?”

Pushing himself onto his elbows, Jason gazes down at her with a crooked grin. “To Gotham? Only when Bruce breathes down my neck.”

Snorting, Rose stretches one arm above her head, and her chest rises towards him in a way that makes him suck in his breath. Focus. She won’t meet his eyes, and her lips keep forming words she doesn't speak. “No, I mean. Do you regret being brought back?” The warmth in Jason’s belly turns to ice. 

It’s all too easy to remember that god-awful laugh, and the red haze in his vision, and the blood in his eyes. The searing pain of each blow, and the ache every time he tries to breathe. The numbness that settles in when he reaches the door and finds it locked--when he hears the egg timer on Joker’s signature bomb. 

Remembering what came after is harder. Running out of air. So much water, but it’s thicker than water, and he can’t get to the surface fast enough. Screaming. So much screaming. Is he screaming? Everyone’s trying to kill him. He can’t get out. He can’t get out. He can’t.

“Jason?” Rose only says his name when she’s worried. She squeezes his shoulder, digging her nails into his skin until his vision clears. “Shit. Sorry.” Sighing in frustration, she looks away. “Didn’t mean to bring all that back.”

Leaning his forehead against hers, Jason tries to get his breathing under control like his shrink taught him, but it’s easier said than done, and he fears the moment lost by the time he does. He tries to turn it into a joke, to lighten the mood. “That’s like asking if I regret being alive.” Jason huffs a laugh, but it falls flat. 

Rose bites her lip so hard Jason half-expects it to bleed. She looks up at him as if she’s confessing to murder. Sorry, Asshole, I fucked up again. Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. “I was there, you know.”

Jason’s eyes widen. “At the Lazarus Pit?” And there he is, again. Drowning. 

“Yeah.” She swallows, and the next part comes out thick. “I was the one who told Ra’s Al Ghul where to find your body. He let me watch, as a thank you.”

Nowhere in that haze of memory does Jason recall seeing Rose, and that it is a whole new betrayal. “Where?” He sucks in a breath. “When?”

“Guess you weren’t happy to see me.” She snorts. “You tried to kill me. Well. Everyone, really. But you were fixated on me.” Rose looks at him, finally. “Thaila had to pull you off me before I stopped self-healing altogether.”

“And then you...left?” He’s angry, as if he has any right to be. Jason probably would’ve done the same given the circumstances. 

Rose nods. “And the All-Caste offered to take you in, fix you right up. Guess it worked.” A small smile sneaks onto her lips. But it doesn’t reach her eyes. 

One of Jason’s first clear memories of that time--a lonely night in his cell in The Chamber of All. Wondering what happened to her. If she had died right along with him and hadn’t been brought back. Being so angry when he got back to Gotham and she apparently had a life of her own. His memories of her, after, are a little less clear. But the distant look in her eyes tells him all he needs to know. 

----

“Dude, don’t be so hard on her.” Roy polishes off yet another hot dog, licking his fingers. 

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Jason kicks his heels against the edge of the rooftop. He reaches for one of the polish sausages, but his stomach gurgles in protest. Maybe not, then. 

“You’ve no idea what she went through to get you back.” He turns to look at him, with those hazel eyes lingering on Jason in a way that always leaves him feeling, well, naked. Which shouldn’t be an issue right? Roy’s seen him naked plenty of times after a mission. There’s only one shower, and that apartment has one tiny ass water heater. Showering together only makes sense? At least there’s room for the both of them, just barely. It often turns into a game of Twister mixed with hot yoga. And like, there’s never been any problem, yeah? 

But sometimes the way Jason catches Roy staring at him. Makes him wonder. 

If he wants to stare back.

Just every once in a while. 

“Like what?” They really shouldn’t have bought the entire foodcart’s stock so the Old Man Gerasimos “Jerry” Angelos could head home early. This is way too much food, even with Roy’s bottomless stomach. 

“Maybe you should ask her sometime.” 

“Nah, I’m good.” Jason licks his fingers. “It’s easier to not talk about it at all.”

Roy laughs. “Ah, just like how you don’t talk about stuff with anyone else?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jason gives him a playful look, but the look on Roy’s face stops him short. 

Roy doesn’t answer. He reaches over instead, wiping the mustard that got caught on the side of his mouth. His fingers are so unbelievably warm, like he’s made of fire and not skin. And Jason aches when he pulls away abruptly. 

“I uh, I just remembered that my laundry’s sitting in the washer. Probably stinks already.” Roy rushes off, not even bothering to wipe his fingers on a napkin. 

“It always stinks, Harper!” Jason roars after him, but his friend has already shut the door. 

Roy dies two days later.

------

“Would you be angry if I--we brought Roy back?” They’re on a rooftop, They’ve been waiting here for hours for Valentino’s men to show, and still nothing. Not all the Tuesday tacos in the world can make the night any less stale. Rose is on her fifth one when she gets philosophical.

Jason snorts. “You say that like it’s possible.”

Rose doesn’t say anything, and that’s what scares him.

“It’s not,” he says, louder.

“Why not?” She wipes quac from the corner of her mouth, staring at the rooftop across the street as if Roy’s gonna pop out of the skylight any second. “We brought you back.”

She can’t be serious. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“You don’t know what it’s like, Rose.”

Rose deadpans at him, her lips tight and firm. “I don’t?”

Jason thinks back to the first time he found her. Her right arm bent backward, her left cradling a wound that had bled out next to her. How her eyes stared out at nothing. Someone had pressed the mute button on the universe, except for the thud of his own heart. He should call someone. Bruce, 911, anyone, but his hands won’t move.  “Right, sorry.” 

It’s a terrible idea, they both know that, but the thought keeps eating away at him. Every time Jason lets his mind wander, it wanders to Roy--his crooked smile, his careless lean--the clumsiness that shouldn’t belong to a world-class archer, but it does. The headquarters seems so empty without Roy in it--so cavernous yet so claustrophobic like it’s going to eat Jason alive. 

-----

Three days later Rose is roundhouse kicking a punching bag when Jason finds her. “We can’t use the Lazarus Pit.”

 Rose stumbles, missing the bag completely and tumbling to the floor. “The fuck, Jason!” For someone who sees the future, Rose certainly didn’t hear this coming. 

Jason helps her up. “We can’t use the Lazarus Pit. I don’t want Roy going through what I did.” He meets her eyes. “What we did.” 

Rose nods, still breathless and annoyed in a way that makes him want to smother her with kisses. “You got another idea?” Jason swallows, squeezing the hand he’s still holding. “Jason?”

“You wouldn’t happen to know your HLA markers, would you?”

“My what?”

----

 Rose hates going to the doctor. It’s rarely a problem--her regeneration usually prevents her from getting sick, and her injuries hardly last long enough. But she’s been around enough mad scientists that she practically glares holes into the nurse when he brings out the needle. 

“Don’t kill him and maybe I’ll give you a lollipop afterward.” Jason elbows her other arm.

“A lollipop is not what I want to be sucking right now,” Rose fires back, looking at him instead of the needle. She relaxes slightly, and Jason kisses her, brushing her hair behind her ear.

The nurse coughs. “Alright. Easy in--and done.”

Rose swallows, taking in a deep breath. “Finally.” She closes her eyes, then stands up, rushing for the door.

Jason pauses in the doorframe, looking back at the nurse. “Uh, keep us posted.”

“We’ll call.”

----

It’s a stupid idea. The morgue doesn’t even understand why Jason Todd, adopted son of Billionaire Bruce Wayne wants to keep Roy Harper’s body in their freezer, especially when Oliver Queen seems to want it cremated as soon as possible. Bribing the owner doesn’t even work--not with Queen’s fortune also in play. So, Rose concocts some dumbass story about Harper’s biological family coming in from out of town. It’s so crazy that both Queen and the mortician fall for it. 

Both Jason and Rose hold their breath when his phone rings. And Rose, and her fucking precognition, hugs him tight and fucking squeals before the nurse even says it “It’s a match.”

---

“Nervous?” Jason sits next to her, squeezing her hand as the scientist hooks the catheter tube to a vein in Roy’s chest. Jason has a hard time looking at his body, so he focuses on Rose instead. 

“Fucking terrified.” Rose laughs humorously. 

“Trust me, if they try anything I’ll shoot them myself.”

“You know I can hear you, right?”

-----

Rose isn’t sure what’s more surprising, the gleam in Roy’s eyes like he just woke up from a nap, or the desperate kiss Jason gives him when he takes his first breath. Or maybe it’s not surprising at all. She should have known from the way Roy always seemed to be in Jason’s thoughts--he always had a convincing lie, and maybe Rose wanted to believe him. Maybe she should feel angry--betrayed, even, but all she feels is relief.

Finally, Jason remembers they’re not alone, and he breaks off from sucking Roy’s face, his face as red as Roy’s hair. 

Roy, on other hand, is not surprised at all. “Missed me that much, huh?”

[mimiplaysgames]

Terraqua Week Day 1 (Weak Spot)

Summary: We all have to make peace with the past. (In which Terra returns in Xemnas’s body and I scream SIZE DIFFERENCE.) || Word Count: 8,319

Read on AO3

A/N: AAAAAHHHH I’m so excited that we’re doing a whole other @terraquaweek !! I have to apologize ahead of time, my fics this year are super long and super packed, but I’m pretty proud of this collection and I can’t wait for y’all to read! I can’t wait to hear what you think! <3

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Time Takes You For Granted

Terra looks so different. 

No matter—Aqua has to fight. She can’t hold back when he summons red sabers of light from his palms, can’t falter when he hammers them against the staff of her Keyblade, can’t blink when canyon dust is kicked into her eyes, can’t be fooled by his face because this man is not Terra and couldn’t ever pretend to be.

He opens his arms to conjure a fatal blow—but he underestimates her speed. She’s grown up fighting large men. He is no big deal. 

The man with Terra’s face withers when she strikes his midsection. One arm grips his stomach to hold himself together and he brings his other hand up. Dark tendrils evaporate from the leather of his gloves. 

“As you wish,” he says to her, richly voiced, smooth as a river stone. “Friend.” He staggers to his knees, groaning as he flickers away.

“Terra!” Ven calls, too fast for Aqua to hold back. The man still wears that same black cloak that marks him as a member of the Organization.

The man shivers when Ven shakes him awake, a quiet “Aqua? Ven?” escaping his lips. He huffs out a hoarse chuckle that clutches out of pain, with a voice that sounds like a morning at the summit of a mountain. “Ven, you’re so short.” 

There he is.

“Terra.” Aqua rushes over. “Can you hear me? How do you feel?” she asks, checking for signs of physical injury, a refusal to use a limb, the inability to breathe. 

His breath stutters. “Aqua?” There he is.

“I’m here.”

He pants, opening his eyes—now blue again, his hair dark again, there he is. He jerks forward as if desperate to find her, but it’s like he can’t see her. In a drunk and feverish whimper, barely with the strength to sit himself up, he stumbles back. “Aqua. Aqua, I have to tell you something.”

“Don’t worry about that,” she says, checking his temperature with the back of her hand, “just rest.”

“No, I have to say it,” he mumbles. “I have to. I didn’t last time, I didn’t and look what happened—”

“Okay,” she whispers. “Go ahead.” 

He pauses, moaning, “I’m sorry. I love you.”

“What?”

Ven bursts into a fit of hysteria. “Perfect timing, Terra. Ten out of ten.”

But Terra seems unaware, straddling between the drift to sleep and the fight to stay awake. He nods as if to confirm, mumbling to himself like a baby.

Aqua stares at him, her heart itching to hear it again in case she misunderstood. She has daydreamed of this moment—not like this, anything sweeter than this but genuine all the same—and yet it comes to her like a splash of ice on the face. Terra is older. He has more pronounced cheekbones with less elasticity in the skin, folds of dimples and knowledge when his lips twitch, a thicker jawline, a stronger nose. A glimpse of the future, his long brown hair stretching past the shoulders, oily and excessively gelled up for ridiculous bangs. Aqua brushes his cheek with her fingers.

She should have said something years ago, too. 

“What’s going on?” a voice calls out. Riku’s. He skids to a stop when he sees them. “Is that Xemnas?”

The man Aqua fought never introduced himself, but he sure liked to talk a lot. Whoever he was, he’s not relevant anymore. “He’s delirious. We need help picking him up.”

“Wait a minute,” Riku says, approaching them with a smidge too much caution for Aqua to appreciate. “I’ve been fighting Terra all these years?” 

“Xehanort,” Aqua says quietly, wrapping Terra’s arm over her shoulders. She shuffles her knees. He’s too heavy. “You’ve been fighting Xehanort.”

Riku nods. It’s his way of apologizing. “Well. That sucks.” He offers to take the other arm. “Xemnas was the leader of the first Organization. A self-inflated piece of work… I didn’t know who he really was. I didn’t recognize him.” He pulls a smile to his face and nudges Ven with his elbow. “Sora and I made sure to give him a hard time.”

Aqua wants him to stop talking. 

Footsteps approach them, crunchy with the sound of sand and dirt, and Aqua braces herself for what’s to come. Riku whips around to prepare an explanation, but it’s none other than Kairi. 

She sees them with wide and round eyes. Brings her hand to her mouth. “Riku?” Kairi says specifically, asking him questions with her eyes in a private language Aqua can’t understand. 

He shrugs. “What do you want me to say?”

Kairi sits on her knees, her skirt too short to cover them from the dirt. “This poor boy. It’s not fair.”

Aqua purses her lips. Ven stares past everyone else. 

“We’re all getting punished,” Kairi continues like the sting of knowing that after all is said and done, Sora is gone somewhere and here are Aqua and Ven picking up their own brittle, little pieces. “Look at him.” 

Riku sighs. “I have space in my Gummi ship for him. But we need to be quick about it.”

Kairi gasps, wide-eyed. “That’s right.”

Aqua doesn’t want to ask why. Ven does it for her. “What’s up?”

“We can’t let the others see him,” Riku says.

Too late. Roxas appears on the other side of the clearing, heavy in breath. He’s sweet and gentle even when it seems like his mind is a distance away. He looks exactly like Ven but nothing like Ven, a grimness to his smile and a thoughtfulness to his speech like he’s seen and knows too much. 

Roxas frowns. “What are you doing?” 

“We’re helping him,” Aqua says as a matter of fact, flexing her ankles to stand up with Riku, shouldering half the weight. Terra stumbles on his feet, mumbling something about not wanting to step on any mice. “This is Terra, by the way.”

Roxas stares. “Why?” he asks accusingly. 

Aqua stammers. How this boy who has been ripped away from his own friends could ask such a thing— 

“Come on, he’s our friend,” Ven says. 

“You call him a friend?” Roxas points at Terra. “Do you even know what he’s done?”

Xehanort. What Xehanort has done, but Aqua stops herself from snapping. She says softly, “Terra would never—” 

“What if Terra saw what happened? What if he knew? Is he the type to be okay with that?”

She glares at him. No answer comes to her, except when Xemnas called her a Friend.

Kairi steps forward, arms out like a barrier. “He needs medical attention. We don’t have to talk about this right now.”

And they won’t have the chance. Xion slowly comes up behind Roxas. They’re both dressed in the same black cloak that Terra wears like it’s a mark, a forced tattoo. She has her hands cupped into each other, bringing them to her chest like they’re a shield. 

“Roxas?” Xion asks. She looks terrified.

“Forget it,” Roxas says, turning over and tugging her by the elbow. “This is dumb. We don’t need to care or be here.” 

Aqua refuses to fight this battle, not when Terra is wheezing and flinching as if he’s being crushed under mineral and earth. 

“Kairi,” Riku says solemnly, “just guide us back to the ship.” He says to Aqua, “If it’s any consolation, I think he would’ve done something if he knew.” 

Aqua nods, choosing to create solace out of his delicate comfort, if only to find the strength to drag Terra across the desert.

It’s a laborious but peaceful walk, what with Kairi talking about healing potions (I’ve learned some during training, maybe I can make Terra one?), and Ven excited about the first meal they’ll have together as a trio again (Pancakes, Aqua. Pancakes.), until they find Lea standing in front of the Gummi ship. He has his hands in the pockets of his cloak, and Aqua wonders if he’s concealing weapons. 

Lea is a double-sided coin. One side a mask with a running end of jokes and playful jabs designed to hide the other, steely and scrutinizing. 

“I promised myself I would never see Roxas that upset again,” Lea says, as if to blame them for breaking it. “I’ve never seen Xion that upset.” That brand of Lea-lilt in his voice, the one he uses every time he spits out Got it memorized?, is gone, and Aqua admits she respects him more for it. Lea nods over to Terra. “Shouldn’t we leave the trash where it belongs?”

“You’re really going to ask that when you’ve been pining all this time for Saïx?” Riku snaps. 

Lea laughs. “You might as well shave my entire head and tell people I’m ugly.” He chills over. “I’m no saint either, but don’t compare us to”—he points at Terra, not Xehanort or Xemnas or whoever—“him. You want to know what I think of Xemnas? He doesn’t deserve an ounce of the worst. The core of rotten fruit. The smell of ass after a trip to the bathroom. The pits of the ocean where all the fish shit clump together and the bloat of dead flesh float around.”

“Don’t mind him,” Riku tells Aqua and Ven. “He likes to exaggerate.”

“I like to make a point.” Lea steadies his breath, hot petrol on the verge of exploding, letting the steam lose pressure. “I like to tell the truth when it matters.”

Aqua glares at him. She doesn’t know Lea that well, and doesn’t know what matters of truth are supposed to mean. But she holds her head high. Her truth screams from the inside of her head. 

“Terra would never,” she announces. 

Lea scoffs. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ven trips on dragging fabric. They’re taking some of the Master’s old robes to Terra, who can’t fit into any of his own clothes anymore. The castle at the Land of Departure is stiff and quiet, like a long-lost stranger. Home isn’t home but a dream, a memory, a trip through aged photos.

“I don’t think this is going to work,” Ven says in a sing-song voice.

“The Master was a large man,” Aqua insists. 

“Yeah, but Terra’s bicep is bigger than your head now.”

That’s true and… not something Aqua wants to think about—his body though, it’s impressive—not if she wants to hide the blush in her cheeks. Terra is huge now, the crown of her head reaching the base of his diaphragm. He’s so broad that if he hugs her, she’d disappear into the flesh. 

Aqua and Ven turn the corner and enter Terra’s room, who has a towel wrapped around his hips. He’s fussing with the wet roots of his hair.

“So much grease,” Terra complains, scratching his scalp with the pads of his fingers. “What the stars was this guy thinking with all this hair gel?”

Aqua stares at the wood of his dresser—not at how sculpted his muscles are (more than ever, actually). Not at the chisels and grooves on his back as he breathes and moves to grab a robe from the rumpled stack is Ven’s arms.

“That one will look nice,” Aqua says, eyeing the ivory color of the robe Terra chose.

“Might,” Ven corrects. “Might look nice.”

Terra snorts. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re bigger than a rhino.”

He laughs. He sounds the same. “All the more to terrorize people with,” Terra says and it wretches at her chest. 

“Glad to know you’re still an idiot.”

Terra slips his arms through the sleeves, pulling the robe over his shoulders and across his chest. It’s not flattering. The seams are stretched, the threads exposed, and it wears on his shoulders so tightly that the muscles form hills under the fabric. 

Ven points and laughs. “I told you. No one listens to me.”

Aqua pulls the robe off Terra’s shoulders when he slouches into his chair. She tosses it with the rest of the Master’s unfittable artifacts onto Ven’s arms. “Can you take care of these? I’ll stay and help Terra.”

Ven eyes her. With a knowing grin. Like an imp that should be slapped. “Do what? Put his pants on?”

Terra gapes. “What?”

“You’re obnoxious,” Aqua says to Ven.

“You’d miss me if I wasn’t,” Ven says with his nose high to the ceiling. He leans forward, the imp smile stretching to reach ear to ear, curled upwards. “But Terra would like it, wouldn’t he?”

Terra coughs and clears his throat. “Ven, get out.” He waves his arm—and a crash explodes before Aqua can understand what happened. Everything in his room—his shoes, the coat rack, the lamp by his bed, his pillows, books from the shelf, dirty laundry that hasn’t been washed in a decade, dust collected from the same amount of time—fly at Ven. The comforter in particular is what knocks him over.

“What was that?” Ven squeals, sitting up from the rubble. “What was that?”

Terra’s lip quivers. He stares at his hands. “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Aqua says, bending over to stack books in her arms. “Ven, get a broom and some rags. We’ve got some cleaning to do.” 

Ven trips before heading off, like he couldn’t wait to get out. Aqua has a feeling he’s going to bug her for details later. 

“I’m so sorry,” Terra whispers, balling his hands into fists and shoving them into his lap as a preemptive measure. 

The Organization’s cloak sits thrown on the floor, still dusty. Aqua pads the excess off. 

“Don’t worry,” she says, pulling cheer from somewhere inside to lighten the mood. “I’ll sew you a new robe.”

Terra won’t look at her. He mumbles her a word of thanks when she hands his dirty cloak over.

“Leather can’t be scrubbed like everything else,” she explains. “I’ll clean it later.”

“It’s fine,” Terra says, holding it in his giant hands. He doesn’t move to put it on, and instead stares at the large mirror hanging over his desk in front of him. Aqua stands by his side. She’s tall, but she never once considered herself as thin, her frame skeletal by comparison. 

By comparison, she hasn’t changed.

Well, she has. Her smiles are not the same. 

Terra’s hair is messy, now with much more for her to brush her fingers through. She doesn’t try. “I don’t remember any of these,” he whispers. 

The scars. Knicks in crossed-over patterns across his chest and biceps. A rippled scorch mark by his elbow like a crater, a gouge on one side by the stomach, a deep ravine on the other, near the ribs. More on his back, a textured map for nowhere to go. 

“Not a single one.” His voice cracks. 

Aqua caresses his shoulder. Those scars are not stories he needs to hear. “What do you remember?” She actually doesn’t want to know, in case Roxas was right. 

“Nothing.” 

She wants to be relieved, but she isn’t. “Nothing at all?” In twelve years?

“No.” 

Aqua wraps her arms around his shoulders from behind him, aware of how he tenses at first and relaxes after, a puzzle piece fitting in exactly the right spot. “Where were you?”

“I don’t know.” He sighs, leaning his head onto hers. “I wasn’t anywhere, I… I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s fine.” Twelve years of nothing and twelve years living with nightmares; there’s not much to talk about. She traces a divot on his shoulder. “I know this one.”

“Yours,” Terra says. When he smirks that way, he looks the same as he always had.

“I stabbed you with a wooden sword.”

“My wooden sword.” He brushes his fingers on the scar. As if he’s reminded of something, Terra frowns. “I was just a kid.” He studies his skin on the reflection, pulling on his face with his fingers, watching the way the skin ripples, the sharpness of cheekbones, the dips and dimples that didn’t used to be there. There are thick streaks of silver underneath the outer layers when he brushes his hair back. He never asked for this. “Can we get rid of every mirror in the castle?” he whispers.

Aqua lets him go. The way he asks makes her want to try memory alteration, to slowly erase what haunts him so he doesn’t have to deal with harsh reminders or sudden blows to the mind. She forces herself to smile—if she shows distress, it would only upset him more. There is nothing they can do about the past and there won’t be a mention of what it’s robbed from them.

“Maybe just the one in here. I’ll help.” 

Terra stands up and takes one of his old, simple cotton shirts that he prefers when he goes to bed while Aqua tests the bottom part of the ornate frame. It won’t budge, heavy as lifting a boulder. 

“I look ridiculous,” she hears Terra say. The shirt is as tight as second skin, what used to sit on him loosely now gripping for dear life across his upper stomach, his belly button exposed. 

Aqua purses her lips, heat to her cheeks. “Do you remember waking up?”

“Where?” He’s layering the cloak over the scandal. 

“At the Keyblade Graveyard.”

“No,” he says. She’s known him for years. She can tell he’s sincere. “Why?”

“Just wondering how far your memory goes,” she says, playing serious. She’ll have to figure out a different way to bring up that conversation. “I can’t lift this alone.”

“Not a problem.” Terra grabs his side of the mirror and lifts it off its hook like it’s a single piece of paper.  He clears his throat. “Um—wow.”

“That’s impressive,” Aqua says, and Terra blushes purple. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Aqua makes it back home in time for lunch, and finds Terra sitting on the bar that splits the kitchen from the dining room, wearing his cloak with the zipper open, no shirt and leather pants. It must be blistering hot in those considering the sunny weather. He’s complained about having to sleep naked. 

She presents him with several bags on the counter. Rolls of fresh cotton shirts and pants for lounging, nylon for sparring and wool for the winter. He splits a warm grin when he feels how soft they are. It almost brightens his deep dark circles. 

“I also found these gorgeous fabrics,” Aqua says, showing him the silk she means to make him a new robe in that same ivory color, with embroidered, rust-colored strips that she’ll use for the borders and trims. “This will look good with your armor.” 

“Let me show you what I’ve been working on.” On his lap are a set of the Master’s old hakama. Terra is attempting to tailor it…all through hand sewing, the needle swallowed by his thick fingers. The threads are bunched up and knotted over, if they don’t skip some parts. “What?” he asks. She must be making a face. “It’s ugly isn’t it.”

“Nothing that skill can’t help,” Aqua says, taking the pants from him and not apologizing for anything.

He taps the counter with his fingers. “Riku told me about Xemnas.”

Aqua stops the urge to groan, folding over the fabric carefully and pretending that name doesn’t boil her blood. “What did he say?”

“Xemnas was a telekinetic.” 

That explains some things. “Okay.”

“Apparently he could lift entire buildings.”

Aqua snorts.

Terra leans forward. “Hey, you can’t blame me for the back door.”

“But it makes sense.”

Terra has blown open said door. He has also destroyed historical statues and windows that are difficult to replace. He has even ripped a tree from its roots when he practiced his powers outside. The more he gets scared of these abilities, the more destructive he becomes. Terra’s body is not entirely sane on its own either—he’ll step on pebbles, on glass barefoot, and he can’t feel a thing. 

“Can you answer Riku for me?” He pulls the Gummiphone from his pocket, the device smaller than his palm. “The buttons are too small. I’m thinking of asking Chip and Dale to build me a custom-sized one.” 

She takes his phone, the screen smudged with his round fingertips, larger than her nails. “Are you going to stop training your new powers?”

He flinches. “They’re not mine.”

“Well...” she says gently, cradling his phone in her hands. It’s warm from his touch. 

“Not that I can control them.” He huffs, frustrated enough to crack the counter in half if he tries. 

“Why don’t you show me how far you’ve come?”

He glares at her. 

“The oranges.” She points to the kitchen on the other side of the room. Oranges, pears, and apples sit in a wooden bowl by the sink. “Pick one of them up.”

“That’s a little too much to ask for.”

“One tiny orange?” She smirks. “You can balance it on your pinky.”

He scoffs. “You talk as if you like me like this.”

Aqua clears her throat, suddenly deep in a trench that she can’t climb out of. “You can’t help what happened to you, but you can help yourself.”

Terra rolls his eyes. “Yes, ma’am. Stars, it’s like being in class again.”

“I’m pleased with that. Try sliding the bowl over.”

Terra leans his elbows onto the counter and opens his palms, his fingers curled like claws. What surprises her is how fast the bowl responds, like it’s channeling an emotional reaction, immediate and neurotic. It rattles, as if it weighs several tons under an ocean. 

Aqua looks over at his furrowed concentration, sweat glistening as though he’s wrestling instead of picking up fruit. “What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

She smiles. “There was a day when we didn’t know what our Keyblades would look like. That was exciting and terrifying at the same time, remember?”

“You sound like the Master.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

Terra grunts. “Fine, I’ll try harder.” Though he doesn’t have to prove anything to Aqua. Ever.

Terra waves his hands to the right and—disaster.

The bowl flips over and crashes into the fridge. 

Plates and mugs burst out of the cupboards, shattering when they hit the floor. Pots and pans soar, crossing the entire kitchen and slamming into the grandfather clock, destroying the glass casing and tearing apart the inside as gears sputter to the floor. 

The clockface nearly lands on Ven’s head when he enters with a glass of water in his hand. He freezes. It cracks when it hits the tile. Forks, spoons, and other utensils spin past him and stab the wall, the knives wedged into it. 

“Ven!” Aqua calls, running to him. He’s fine. If anything, he’s shivering from shock. 

“Ven,” Terra starts, scrambling up from the stool but he flicks his hands too quickly. The water from Ven’s glass splashes him on the face. “Stars, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t,” Ven says, wiping his face. “Worry about it.” He inhales. “You nearly impaled me.” 

“I’m sorry—”

“Sit,” Ven says, pointing at Terra. “On your hands.”

Terra does as he’s told, slumping his shoulders over as if to shrink. But it’s a parody, an elephant hiding behind a palm tree, a giant monster puppy rejected.

Ven looks over the destroyed grandfather clock—it was one of the Master’s newer ones, who developed a fondness for them late into his life. “This one was a stars-damned eyesore, anyway.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Aqua is dressed in her shorts and shirt, preparing for bed when she hears another crash, this time a dull crack, breaking apart right outside her bedroom. 

Terra is carrying a door handle, still attached to shards of wood. He is furiously shivering, wearing the new clothes she bought for him.

“Terra, are you okay?” she asks gently.

With effort, he calms himself, the handle shaking in both of his hands, a hole in his door the only other thing amiss. “I can fix it.” His undereye circles are getting awfully puff, his voice broken by static. 

“You should really get some sleep,” she says, stepping out. 

He sighs forcefully, as if to ask her to stop. “I can’t.”

She nods. “It’s hard for me to sleep, too.”

“I can’t help but feel like my body is going to sleepwalk without me knowing.”

“I don’t think it would.” She smirks but it doesn’t comfort him. “I take rounds around the castle sometimes. I would notice if you’re a zombie.”

His lips quiver, and he squeezes the handle as if to snap it on purpose. He doesn’t. Terra turns to her but stares hard at the floor. In a voice so quiet that he sounds like a small boy, he asks, “Can you stay with me tonight?”

Her heart jumps, trying to wretch itself out of her chest. “Terra?”

“I want to sleep. I can’t. I think it would be easier if…” He fiddles with the door handle, a shy boy unable to speak. “If you were with me.”

Aqua smiles. He’s braver than her for asking. “I’d feel safer behind a locked door. Come in.”

On her desk is her sewing machine, the pattern of his new robe designed, his measurements already taken, the fabric put together in pins and ready to be weaved with thread. 

But there is a mirror in her room, and when Terra enters, he stops in his place. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, moving to pull one of her bedsheets to cover it. 

“It’s fine,” Terra says, but she’s too fast, balancing out the coverage. He slouches on her chair and leans back with a grunt. His fair falls behind him like a cascade. It’s always been wonderfully thick and dark. Aqua indulges this time, brushing it with her fingers, tempted to braid it. He audibly relaxes, and says, “Riku told me what happened in the Graveyard.”

Aqua swallows. “What did he say?”

“How Roxas and Lea reacted.” He gets quieter the more he speaks, words slipping into weak whispers. “To me.” Tears drip out of his eyes, running to his ears and down his neck. He sniffs. “Xion is terrified of me and I don’t know how to live with myself.”

“It’s not your fault, Terra,” she says softly, lightly rubbing his scalp when she sweeps his glorious hair, brown and silver like silk on her skin. It soothes him. 

“Kairi said the same.”

“Kairi is wise.”

“She wants to find a way to get us all together.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Aqua says, and he groans. “Let me figure out how to set that up. I’ll coordinate with her.”

“I don’t think that will end well.”

“We should try. We all have things in common and have faced similar hardships. We need each other as friends.”

“But look at me.”

She does. He’s beautiful. “I’m looking.”

“What am I going to do?” Terra has always been too sensitive for his own good. Aqua thinks about who she’d possibly call to help me. “They’ll never talk to me.”

“You’re already trying your best.”

“Aqua, I’ve been a beast since I’ve been home.” He rubs his thumb and fingers together. A body that fails him. 

“Terra, please, you’re fine the way you are.”

“Two more grandfather clocks under my belt and all the vegetables in the garden in my pocket,” he reminds her.

“Let’s try one more time,” she says, taking his hand. “I think if you could outwin your powers, you’d feel better.”

“Your room is too immaculate for me to mess with.”

“Not my room. On me.”

“Why would I do that?” Terra stands up. 

“I think if there’s a parameter that you’re forced to work under, you’d improve the way you want to.” 

Terra pauses. “And put you in danger?”

“If that’s what’s going to work.”

“I care too much about you to do that.”

“I know you love me,” Aqua says, startling herself. She shouldn’t have said that, especially now that he’s staring at her wide-eyed—but they’re best friends. Of course he loves her. Of course it’s the most natural thing to say. There’s not much more to imply. “You won’t hurt me.”

“Intentionally,” his voice croaks, looking everywhere around the room except at Aqua.

“What do you want out of your training, Terra?”

“I want to feel less like a freak.”

“Here I am.” She widens her arms. “Hit me with your best shot.”

“What if I fling you out the window like a rag doll?”

“You won’t.” Now she’s nervous he will.

“Or burst your skull open?”

“Then don’t.” Aqua swallows.

Terra sighs and runs a hand through his hair, the silver glistening from the light of her ceiling lamp. 

“Be gentle,” Aqua suggests.

Terra hesitates, one step too far behind necessary confidence. She takes both of his hands in hers, and he gives her a feathered squeeze in return. 

“Promise me you won’t break,” he says.

“Promise you won’t break me.”

He blinks back tears when he holds her waist, his hands a hearth through her thin shirt. He’s about to pick her up but he lets her go instead, intentionally widening his hands as if pulling strings. As though gravity has shut off, the air around her loses all weight. Her feet lift off the carpet and she’s suspended above her dresser, her limbs moving slowly as though she’s underwater. Terra trembles from so much concentration. He’s worried, delicate with her, lifting her up like a cloud drifting over a mountain, her desk distant like it’s inside a doll house, her bed too small for a body to sleep in.

She gasps. “Wow.”

Terra wrestles with a smile but every muscle is engaged as though he’s picking up a boulder. 

“You’re doing wonderful,” she says. When he looks up at her, he cries. “Now put me down. Gently.”

It’s like she’s asking him to drop that boulder, all collateral be damned. He groans, a vein throbbing on his forehead. He’s hesitant at first but he exhausts when he finally relaxes. The threads that hold her snap. Aqua falls. Terra catches her by her bare thighs. 

“You did so well,” she whispers, holding onto his shoulders. Dust collects on the top of her door frame that she’d never notice otherwise. “You’re so tall,” she laughs.

He sighs. “I’m so tired.”

“Oh, you can put me down.”

His arms stutter when he slides her off him, and he plops onto her mattress, the adrenaline making him tremble. But he smiles. That’s the most Aqua could ask for, and yet that’s the thing, for some reason, that unplugs the dam. 

“I know what it’s like,” she starts, resting a hand on his head. “I wish it never happened. I wish I didn’t have to meet Xemnas, or that I fell into Darkness. Or that anyone hurt you. We wasted all those years.”

“Don’t say that,” he says softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You came back the same and you can redo all that time. Enjoy it.”

“But you?”

Terra sighs. He’s aged. He lays on her mattress, knees sliding off the edge and feet firm on the floor. “I’m okay. I’ve made my peace.”

When she settles next to him, she has to curl her legs in, fitting right into his side, her head on his shoulder. She relaxes to the way he strokes her hair. Peace shouldn’t have to be made. It shouldn’t be bargained for, it shouldn’t be difficult to win in a twisted game. But it is for most people, isn’t it? It is for anyone who’s been betrayed, who has suffered misfortune, who has been robbed or tortured, who has been fractured into pieces with no reason to justify it. 

Terra and Aqua have kissed before out of curiosity, years ago. It left her wanting more. And the wanting has led to yearning. And the yearning lingered on, Aqua choosing to wait for the right moment, for the right hour, for the right occasion, letting it all slip her by each and every time for the most mundane reasons. Terra and Aqua have napped together in the woods, in the shade of a tree after hours of sparring, shoulder to shoulder, one of them promising to wake the other before they’re late for their lessons. 

“If I ever get up in the middle of the night...” Terra starts. 

“Where is this conversation going?” 

“And I’m not actually awake—”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“—and I’m walking around like a zombie—”

“Pfft.”

“—please hit me as hard as you can.”

Aqua chuckles. This shouldn’t be a joke at all and yet what else is there left for them to do? “As you wish.”

“Promise me you’ll wake me up. No matter what.”

“Of course.” Aqua nuzzles her face into his shoulder, feeling the way his pec curves over rock-hard muscle. “Always.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They’re in the study, where some of the most outdated books in the castle find their home, for decoration more than anything.

Terra has new suspenders and hakama pants. The robe she’s designed for him, ivory with rust-colored trim, has one proper sleeve. The other is more of an open cape that curls under his armored arm, pinning at his shoulder like a shawl, made to show off the metal, burgundy and shiny. He’s elegant, tall and intimidating, respectable and warm. 

“I love it,” he says.

“You almost look like the Master,” Aqua says.

“Do you think he would have liked it?”

“I think he would have been proud.”

Ven knocks on the door frame, holding up an Okay gesture. “Nice getup.” 

Terra smirks. “It makes me look less scary.”

“Are you going to throw away the black cloak?”

Aqua flinches, pinching the robe and straightening it, though not because it needs it. 

“I’m still thinking about it,” Terra says. “It depends on how today goes.”

“Speaking of,” Ven says, and Aqua sighs. “Aqua, he’s here.”

As though all breath has been sucked out of the air, they fall quiet. The crackle of the fireplace snaps. 

“You doing okay?” she whispers to Terra.

He nods, but his skin turns green. 

“Just relax and get comfortable,” she says.

Ven follows Aqua to the entrance hall, where their guest has welcomed himself inside. Isa stands with a poise that demands to be matched with a level of professionalism. Aqua crosses her hands together and keeps them to herself.

“Thank you for coming,” she says. When she messaged him to be a mediator, she wasn’t sure what to expect. Lea and Isa may seem to be opposite but they are two peas in a pod that way. Lea is a book of riddles, one page contradicting its own backside depending on which version of him shows up that day. Isa’s book is blank.

“I appreciate your invitation,” Isa says, though an instinctual tick deep in her stomach tells her that appreciation was a difficult word for him to use. 

“Hey there.” Ven waves. 

Isa raises his eyebrows. “Hello, Ventus,” he says… and nothing else.

Ven glances at Aqua and blares a tight, awkward smile. “Okay. Well. I’ll leave you to it.”

After Ven leaves, Isa breathes, like he’s been holding it. “I suppose the rest of this visit will be similar.” The grin on his face is sudden whiplash for Aqua, his strict posture now with blurred edges. 

“In what way?” Aqua can’t quit the habit of letting go of her hands.

“Roxas usually wears a scowl. To see the same face greet me so warmly, it was quite the surprise.” 

“Ah.”

“But a welcomed one.” His intense green eyes drill a hole into her. “Believe me when I say that I’m more than happy to come here and see him for myself, though it puts me in a fickle position with my family.”

Aqua brings her hands to her heart. “I think Sora would want us all to get along.”

“If that’s the angle you want to approach this with, I’d say you have a moderate chance of convincing them.” 

She nods and leads the way. “He’s excited to meet you.”

Isa doesn’t reply. Terra is waiting on one of the lounge chairs in the study, telekinetically spinning pages on a book floating in front of him. He snatches the book as they approach him, and drops it on a nearby desk. 

Terra doesn’t say anything. Neither does Isa, who sits himself on a comfortable chair opposite and crosses his legs. Aqua, not knowing where to go or what to do with her hands, stands by Terra. She’s hoping for an amicable meeting, anticipating an interrogation.

Isa smirks and it’s not exactly inviting. “Shall we skip the pleasantries?”

Terra nods like a dog scolded. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says with a shaky voice. 

Isa hums, interlacing his fingers as he stares—rather studies Terra with scrutiny. “Do you remember me?”

Terra shakes his head, choking on a cough. “You’re asking the wrong person.” 

“Are you certain?”

“I know of you.”

“What do you know of me?”

“You’re with Lea.” Terra licks his lips and balls his hands into fists. He only gets this way when he’s being tested, when he wants to get every answer correct. “You’ve had a complicated history with Organization XIII.”

“Complicated,” Isa repeats. 

“You were a Nobody.”

Isa smirks coldly, much like how Aqua would have imagined from the stories she’s heard about Saïx. “We were brethren.”

Terra hangs his head. “I don’t know much else.”

“How is that possible?” 

“I don’t know. I resigned. It was so painful not to. I was nowhere. Nothing to have, nothing to see, nothing to hear. I waited for an opportunity for it to stop hurting—” Terra croaks. “And I woke up.”

Isa uncrosses his legs and anchors his elbows onto his knees, cupping his chin into his hands. “You’ve no memory of the command to manipulate Sora into vanquishing Heartless for us?”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“To gather enough energy to summon Kingdom Hearts.”

“That doesn’t make any sense to me.”

Isa sighs, and Aqua swears it sounds like anticipation. “And the scar on my face?”

The way Isa asks demands an explanation, and Terra—sweet, sensitive Terra, whose eyes grow hollow—can’t handle the implication. 

“No. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He grits his teeth, staring at the armrest. Aqua stops herself from speaking and holds his shoulder. There isn’t anything for Terra to be sorry for. 

Isa closes his eyes, trembling. After a moment, he jams his thumbs into his eyes and stills, silence befalling all of them, settling among the gentle presence of the fire and the movement of the clouds outside. 

When Isa sits up, eyes glassy but kept together, he summons a smile. Softly, he says, “You look nothing like him.”

Terra, at a loss for words, nods meekly. “Did you keep it? The black cloak?”

“Of course not.” Isa scoffs. “We burned ours.”

Terra offers no condolences or congratulations. He smiles, exhausted. 

Isa stands up. “Please don’t tell me you enjoy white wine with red velvet confections.”

Terra recoils, popping into a laugh as though he’s cracked under the pressure. “That sounds like it tastes awful. I don’t drink. I don’t like losing control of my body.”

The sound of Terra’s laugh shocks Isa. “Sensible.” He addresses Aqua with a look. “I must go. This has been… rather cathartic, and I’d prefer to release it in private.” 

Terra bolts out of his chair, reaching out to cradle one of Isa’s hands in both of his. 

“Thank you,” Terra says, and though Aqua is behind him, she could hear the tears. “Please come back whenever you feel comfortable. I’d love to have your company.”

Isa nods, turning over his shoulder for the door.

The abrupt exit leaves Terra pleading Aqua with his eyes. “Did I say something wrong?” he whispers, slapping his forehead. “I couldn’t honor his experiences. I should have figured out a way to remember.”

“That’s not your burden to bear. It wouldn’t help you anyway,” she whispers back, gently gripping his elbow. “I’ll be back.”

Aqua trails Isa back downstairs, skipping steps. It’s as though he’s in a hurry to get back home. 

“Isa,” she calls. When he stops, she almost trips on herself. Her hands return to their crossover position. Something about Isa makes her so self-conscious, it’s indescribable how he can unravel her like this. “I wanted to thank you again for taking the time to come here.” 

His eyes are pink. “I will tell the others there is nothing to fear.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Lea is unbearably stubborn, but he is intelligent. He already knows Terra is not to be blamed. He simply hasn’t buried his demons yet and that is his responsibility.”

Aqua sighs, relieved. “I needed to hear that.”

Isa doesn’t smile. Instead, he traces a finger across the X-shaped scar over his nose. “Terra and I are forced to face our mistakes in the mirror for as long as we breathe. If we are ever to forge a new life from the ashes, we would need to throw our transgressions into a pyre.”

“I think your presence makes him feel less alone.”

“I want to apologize, Master Aqua.”

“For what?”

Isa considers his words. “Lea and I have lost so much of our youth to a worthless cause. It is not natural for us to enjoy freedom. We expect a harsher punishment to catch up to us any day now, to steal more time from us. Perhaps we deserve to live in fear of that every day. I certainly do.” He watches her. “I can see the story you’ve endured this past decade in your eyes. It’s horrific.” 

Aqua stays quiet.

“And Terra,” he continues. “He will age and die long before you and Ventus. I’m so sorry for that. The rubble we’re left with, it is such a weight for us to bear.”

She wipes a tear from her cheek, too proud to let them continue. “That’s why we need to make the best of it.”

Isa smiles; this time it’s warm. He holds her bicep. “I agree.”

“Will you and the others join us for dinner? Terra speaks for all of us, we’d love to have you around.”

“Bribe Lea with an extravagant experience and he will surely say yes. The children will follow once we assure them.”

Aqua nearly jumps to hug him but she keeps herself composed. Instead, she bows to him. His eyes pulse open.

“That was not necessary,” he says.

“You need to understand how deeply I appreciate this.”

“Lea was right. You old-fashioned wielders are certainly an odd bunch.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

On her way back to the study, Aqua breaks into a sprint, desperate to fly so she could get to him as fast as possible, see his face when she delivers the news.

Terra sulks by a window. Before he could say anything, Aqua jumps and throws her arms around his neck in a clash of grunts, her legs dangling. 

“They’re going to join us for dinner,” she says. She can’t tell if she’s the one who’s trembling or if it’s Terra. Because her arms are wrapped around his neck, she drags him down with her when he relaxes. He rests his forehead on hers as he leans over her, his hair falling around her like a curtain. 

“Stars,” he whispers. “It’s happening?”

She smiles into his cheek. “He wants to bring everyone with him.”

He squeezes her by the small of her back. “We’ll have to invite the others too. Riku and Kairi. Naminé. It will be a feast.”

At the sound of his own words, Terra straightens out, and their fleeting moment of excitement vanishes as quick as it graces them. He nervously clutches a handful of his hair. “Wait, how soon are they coming?”

“Is something wrong?”

“I want to wear it in a ponytail.” He brushes his hair up, exposing the silver near the scalp. “Do you think it’s possible to dye it?”

That’s what makes him so insecure? Aqua stands on her toes to fiddle with the hair. “Come on. It’s a little tedious, but it can be done.”

Aqua snips the necessary plants from the garden, and after grinding them, she dumps the blend into a mix of water and animal fat. Terra slips his robe off and bends over the kitchen sink, letting her sweep the dye with a paintbrush and pinch it across the strands of his long hair with gloved hands. This is the tedious part, separating his hair into thin chunks and being diligent enough to leave nothing untouched. 

“It won’t last for long, right?” he asks, shifting his weight.

“I can find a spell to seal it and make it last longer.” She nudges him to turn his neck over so she can work the other side. In this direction, he can look up at her.

“This feels like I’m cheating.” 

“I think we all cheated. We all came back by some star’s blessing.”

Terra frowns. “When Isa wanted to know if I remembered anything, I felt like I was playing a rigged game. Like I had gotten away with it so easily when he’s stuck with them on his own.”

“Bend your neck forward,” she says, and he follows so she could brush the dye into the back of the scalp. “Well, Isa doesn’t blame you and no one should. And you do get away with certain things.”

Terra flinches but she keeps her hold on him. “Like what?”

Aqua pinches more of the dye into the hair at the neck, wrapping a towel around his shoulders. He will have to pass the time needed for the color to sink in. She can’t wait until he sees it for himself in the mirror. She can’t wait until he smiles more, until he can walk with seeded confidence. 

“You can stand up,” she tells him, instructing him that it will take almost an hour for the dye to settle. She pulls out her gloves and considers an answer to his question. “You get away with what you say sometimes.”

Terra gapes. “Did I offend you?”

“No.” She smirks. This has never been the way she daydreamed it would go—she had prepared a scenario where they would talk about it under the stars in a clear night, in the spring where the flowers have blossomed. Not with yet another shirt that they’ll have to replace.“You told me you loved me that day in the Graveyard.” He doesn’t flinch. “And you don’t remember saying that either.”

The bowl of dye rattles and Aqua catches it from falling over, spilling the excess into the sink and rinsing it. “Terra?”

“Uh.” The cupboards shake as if about to spill open. Terra grabs the knife block and throws it into the fridge, just in case. “Well.” He splays his hand over the handle and burns it with a fire spell, molding the metal together so it can’t burst open. “I’ll fix that later. Um. It’s—” He tips over the fruit bowl so nothing will fly out in different directions. He can’t look her in the face, taking deep breaths. “I mean. It’s not—it’s not a lie.” 

Aqua waits a moment, afraid another word is going to make the oven explode. “I should have told you the same.” She bites her lip. 

“What are you saying?” The burner grates of the stovetop blow up and hit the cupboard over it. “All this time, I could have known?”

“Maybe you should have done something about it.” 

“I’ve been driving myself crazy wondering how you felt. Ever since we came back home.”

“And you said nothing?”

Terra stares at her. “You know what—I’m not protecting you from the oranges.”

“What are you doing?” She chuckles.

He flips the bowl back and waves his arm, five oranges punching her on the arm that she’s using to shield herself.

“Terra!”

She stumbles as the oranges bounce back from the floor and arc over to hit her again. Terra squeezes his fists and the oranges unpeel themselves, sputtering juice all over her face, a tart taste filling her mouth.

Aqua laughs and runs into the dining room, ducking behind the table.

“Get back here,” Terra calls. He rushes into the dining room, clumsy enough to be caught off guard when she charges at him. 

Aqua has to jump higher, kicking off his chest to flip over. The goal is to slam her foot across his face—the best sparring trick in her arsenal. Terra catches her by the ankle but his balance is tested when she bends her knee to throw him off. He’s stronger, a tight grip on her calf. They both fall onto his back, a tower broken in two and collapsing on itself.

Aqua rests her head between his chest, giggling so much that her chin digs into his thorax. 

Terra groans, his soaked hair leaving brown tracks over the tile. “You got some on you.” He rubs a thumb on her temple where it meets the base of her hair. “Hmm, you’d look good as a brunette.”

“In your wildest dreams.”

“If one can come true, then you never know.”

Aqua holds herself up on her elbows. Terra is so large, he’s a mattress in the middle of the dining room floor. Streaks of dye draw across his cheek. They leave what look like slashes across his neck. It’s going to take some scrubbing power to remove them. She sweeps some of the hair off, not caring about the stain it leaves on her fingers.

The next move is natural. A touch of lips to lips, careful and giddy, puckered and softer than she expects, two hands on her back and a powerful jaw under the grace of her fingertips. 

Ven opens the door and gags. “Ugh, all the stars in hell, could you do that in your room?” He turns on his heel and stomps off. “I’m too young for this.”

Aqua snorts into Terra’s mouth and he spits. “I’m sorry,” she says.

Terra licks his lips of juice. He leans up for more. “You taste tangy.”

[patina-millers-biceps]

Tell us how you would redo SMASH tell ussssss

OH HELL YEH Thanks.

OK, SO in my ideal world, Smash runs for 5 seasons. Remember that bc I’ll come back to that later. Overall Tone: I would take it all... and dial it up to 100.  Remember Ellis? Now EVERY character is that fucking crazy. It’s like Glee if Glee was self-aware to how batshit crazy it was, and relished it. The problem was that Theresa Rebeck (season 1) knows what NYC theatre is like, tried to be realistic, but also make it relatable to middle America, and that Joshua Safran (season 2) does not but also tried the same things. When really they needed someone who A) knew what NYC theatre was like B) didn’t give a fuck and C) didn’t give a fuck also about if middle America found it relatable.  But Sarah! What about viewings? You ask. Well, if YOU’RE the moron who’s going to write about a hyper-specific industry I think you just gotta dive in. Commit. Make everything fucking crazy and completely unrelatable to literally everyone. Riverdale that shit but make it good writing. Ultimately, it’s why season 1 worked better. Because at least my girl Theresa knew how to write drama without resorting to burying her gays. I think she should have taken it up higher though. Like, when Uma Thurman’s character got an allergic reaction? I think Karen and Ivy should have teamed up to poison her. I said what I said.  As for the Team Ivy vs. Team Karen? We’re balancing a tricky line here bc it has to be dramatic but also not misogynistic. (that season 1 Ivy character assassination? Bad.)   Ideally, these two would go from hating each others GUTS to reluctantly teaming up against movie star Rebecca (Uma Thurman would thus have to appear earlier and stay longer), deciding that they are in love actually like each other, and cheering on their successes and hating on the MEN who force them against each other. (But while we’re on the subject... #TeamIvy).  That Out Of The Way: Season 1: The Bombshell Workshop Phase Season 1 would ONLY follow the workshop phases of season 1. Which is most of it. Here we have Ivy and Karen’s strangers to enemies to reluctant teammates to friends to lovers arc. This is the emotional core of the show. Rebecca Uma Thurman has to show up around the midway point. Julia’s adoption arc? Throw it out. Sorry Ms. Rebeck i stan you but it sucks. Focus on her and Tom’s friendship as the secondary emotional standpoint. They’ve worked with with other for years!! That dynamic is awesome!! But they were fighting the whole ass show??? Nah. Pit them against Derek. I would change nothing with Eileen.  Oh I also don’t give a shit about Karen’s shitty boyfriend. Season 2: The Bombshell Out of Town Tryout/ Enter Hit List  The first half of season two is the out of town tryout with #TeamIvyKaren against #TeamRebecca coming to a head through rehearsals and the first few previews. Like, I’m talking some Phantom of the Opera level fuckery these two are doing. Falling set pieces, costume malfunction, Ivy actually fucking putting the peanuts in her smoothie. It’s seen as OK bc in this version of Smash Rebecca is a terrible person who has no respect for the ~~**~Theatre~~**~~ The creative team still choose Karen as Marilyn (why?) but she doesn’t get good reviews!! This causes Karen to freak out if the theatre life is really right for her when she meets Jimmy and Kyle. Karen jumps ship to Hit List, Ivy rises to her rightful place as Marilyn in Bombshell. Rehearsals begin to reshape the show for Broadway, Hit List lands its Off-Broadway run. Season 3: Broadway Here I Come/ It’s Tony Time Babey!!  Bombshell opens on Broadway, Hit List opens Off-Broadway and KYLE DOESN’T FUCKING DIE (He still gets hit by a car, everyone thinks he died at first, but he’s just in a coma for a few episodes wherein he has weird out-of-body experiences.) Hit List transfers to Broadway.  BUT WE HAVE SOME DRAMA because Movie Star Rebecca has landed the role of Maggie in a revival of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof! We have some cross-show hate bt Bombshell/ Hit List/ and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof because they’re all on 45th street. There’s drama bt Julia and Kyle bc of Kyle’s fling with Tom! But will it last? No! Kyle ends up really hitting it off with Wesley Taylor’s ensemble member character when he visits Tom backstage at Bombshell! Eileen threw one too many drink in her ex husbands face and he’s legally blind now also she’s producing Bombshell AND Hit List! I’m fucking crapping that shit with Ana getting booted from Hit List and Derek being a perv. Karen and ivy still really hate Rebecca (??? it’s Smash it doesn’t have to make sense!) so they stage a coup and replace her in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof with Jennifer Hudson’s character! The Tonys happen! I liked how they worked out in the show, so i’ll keep that. Jimmy still goes to prison! Tom gets back together with Sam!  Season 4: That’s How We Keep 8 Shows A Week Fresh Y’all  Basically what it sounds like. We go back and forth between Hit List and Bombshell and the absolute CHAOS of backstage on Fake Broadway. There’s a snowstorm that shuts down the city, people hooking up backstage. Derek has an actual redemption arc. Ivy does not get knocked up bc she knows how to use birth control. The Big Story is how bc Eileen is involved with some illegal shit if it’s going to all come crashing down on the unsuspecting actors and writers. Tom and Julia start writing their Great Gatsby Musical. Fictional Lin-Manuel Miranda is there. Jimmy gets out of prison and rejoins the cast. This season takes up about 2 years of time and will be dubbed the weakest one by critics and fans alike.  Season 5: Big Finish!   Bombshell and Hit List have been running for about 3 years total by now. Eileen’s illegal shit comes out. Bombshell and Hit List have to close! It’s a really long that takes up the whole season. All the camp of the previous seasons is gone now and it actually is really beautiful and sad. Some real “What I Did For Love” shit.  At the end, Hit List is able to transfer back Off-Broadway a la Jersey Boys and Avenue Q with a new producer, Bombshell dies but goes out strong and is recorded for PBS and eventual DVD. Ivy now finds out she’s pregnant and also joins the workshop of The Great Gatsby The Musical as Daisy, Ana is Jordan Baker, Sam is Jay Gatsby, Nick Carraway is played Nick Jonas’s character who no one has seen since season 1. Derek is the director.  Another Op’ning Another Show yall.  Karen and Ivy reunite to sing “Big Finish”  End of Series.    You’re welcome everyone, even though literally only 1 person asked for this. 

[alias-b]

sins of my youth. 002

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: Hello all~ Down the rabbit hole. TW: Teenagers can be the worst. Bullying. Fatphobia. Slut shaming. Cruel boys being cruel boys.

Chapter 2: A Million Dead Stars

   All Evie had to do was wait patiently. For Heather to pop out back and for Billy to swoop in and make his bold move.

   The goofy grin Heather walked back in with did not disappoint. Not at all.

   “Hey, you.” Curls bounced when Evie cocked her head and Heather plopped down with a drink. They tapped red plastic cups.

   “So, I just had an...amazing conversation.”

   “Yeah...?" Evie sang softer. "Pray tell."

   “Just...wow. Billy Hargrove. Him too, huh?”

   “We knew it would happen. He was being way too cool around us at lunch when the guy has been nothing but shitty toward me since moving here. He gave me a ride home, it was obvious. And so…?”

   “Where to start?” Heather put her arm up on the couch and took a long drink, laughing. Pretty in pink girl. “First he brought up Jane Austen. Said they were studying it in English which was a total bluff.”

   “We’re not.” Evie confirmed. “He’s in my second period.”

   "You gave up choir for that specific period with Bowers." Heather recalled more so to herself.

   "No, I just," Evie scrambled, "I just didn't want to do choir anymore. The teacher played favorites. Got sick of it."

   Another longer drink and she went on.

   "So, continue..."

   “He brought up Pride and Prejudice. Which, okay, but Emma is way better.”

   “You’re wrong, but I still love you.” Evie curled up to face her friend. Heather laughed and took her hand, leaned her head on the couch to gather herself in a fit of giggles. 

   “He said Mr. Dancy.”

   “No?” Evie died there. "And I hoped he might learn something."

   “Yes!” Heather smacked at her. Music pumped behind them. Teens roaming and making a mess of the nice mansion. "I felt bad because...I snorted about it. In his face."

   “You know, I’ll give Billy a point. Go on.”

   “Museums. Fuck me gently with a chainsaw, I love you...but I’d soon jump into a pit of alligators before going to a museum for a date. Bowling or mini golf please.” Heather was chuckling. “Ballpark hot dogs are way better than cheeseburgers. Popcorn over cheese fries and a damn milkshake? Slushies or nothing. I’m lactose intolerant. He was trying to bore me to death or poison me, Eve.”

   Evie broke to laugh again, barely able to speak.

   “I know! That’s why I suggested all of that.”

   “You bitch.” Heather was giggling still into her shoulder. Hands clasped. They broke to drink. “Oh! And campy action adventure movies or rom-coms only for Heather Holloway. I don’t get why you even go for horror, you wouldn’t hurt a fly and you squirm.”

   “He bombed.” Evie covered her eyes, wiped a tear aside. “I almost pity him.”

   “What’s funny is you like all that stuff. I’m not sure if he was faking it well, but he seemed kinda into most of it.”

   “I’ve been running out of ideas when your followers scramble. Sue me, Heath.” Evie pushed up. “I definitely need another drink.”

   “Fine, fine. Hey,” Heather laced their pinkies together, “teen boys are the worst. Thanks for bouncing another off me. Billy’s cute and all, but hell, I have too much on my plate for a boy right now.”

   “Got that right.” Evie weaved between dancing crowds to the punch bowl. Passed some guy puking into a vase and another group cheering on an arm wrestling match. Spooned herself a full cup. Was mid gulp when she turned to a pair of scathing blue eyes. Oh, Billy.

   “You fucking-”

   “I’m going to stop you right there, Hargrove, and walk that a-way.” She gulped again and passed him.

   “You think that shit’s funny?” Billy had a fistful of her jacket collar. Snarling like a mad dog. "She laughed at me."

   The humiliation of it seemed to make Billy the angriest.

   Evie felt that resonate bitterly because he sounded wounded and oblivious to what life threw her way.

   “Funny? Only after the first ten boys.” She shrugged. “Now it’s just sad. I’m not stupid.”

   “I’d say jerking me around is pretty stupid.” Billy was clearly smashed. Smelling of beer and weed. Eyes red to hell. “Maybe you’re so fucking single and miserable, you make sure your friend stays that way too, huh.”

   Billy knew a nerve was plucked at that by the way she stilled to go colder. Brown eyes molten at him.

   “You don’t know me. You’re a fucking asshole, you know that? I think we both know which one of us is miserable. Go show off for the school all you want, you don't fool everyone with those pretty blue eyes.” Evie shoved off him. Wondered if she caught that same frayed nerve.

   "Hey, we got a problem here?" A Hawkins football player towered. Couple of his buddies from other schools that weren't Ridgemont made a barricade between Billy and Evie.

   "I'm talking to Fenny, dickweed. You mind?" Billy spat. Evie huffed and rolled her eyes.

   "You're talking to the girl who kicked Brock Tannen's ass. Show some respect." Another meathead joined in. Evie hid amusement because this was an odd change over the year.

   "Guys, stand down, you really don't have to do this for me." It was...weird. Frankly, Billy looked like he was about to take on all of them.

   The boy in front gave Billy's shoulder a comical brush and they went off like a herd of happy buffalo.

   "The fuck, are you teen royalty somehow?" Hargrove made a face at her tired expression.

   "No, just some lucky idol they keep around. I still get stepped on in the hallway and I pass everyone's love notes for them." Evie sipped. "I don't care that you like Heather, I care that you pretended to be something close to kind with me to get at her."

   "Don't worry, I'm not interesting in being kind to you again." It came out nastier than he meant it too. Alcohol did that to his old man as well. Disgust welled and Billy had nowhere to put it so it flowed out. "No one here gives a shit about what you have to say, Fenny. Don't count on them trying either just because you're some freak they keep around for one sick story. They're all gonna laugh at you."

   Evie blinked a few times. Saw Billy's shoulders sink while they stared into each other, both searching long and hard. Finished her drink in one swig and tossed the cup at his shoes.

   “You fucking insecure asshole, check a mirror in five years and let me know if you like what you see. Not like you even do now, I bet, so enjoy denial. And stay away from me, Hargrove.” She went down the hallway beyond a spiral staircase and almost ran into a huge chest. As if this night couldn't get any worse.

   Fuck.

   Brock Tannen. Poster boy of rich asshole quarterback from their main rival school. Chestnut hair and chiseled good looks covered evil.

   “Fat Fenny. Oh, sorry. Old habit. Evie. Missed you around these parts.” He nursed a can of beer and leaned into the wall. “Go psycho on anyone lately?”

   “The year isn’t over.” She moved to pass him.

   “Look.” He jolted in front of her. “Admittedly, I was a real shithead. I know that now. My folks even got someone for me to talk to. I'm working through all my shit. But, I was an ass to you.”

   “We knew this.” Evie tried to go the other way, but his shoulder blocked her. She caught sight of his chain. A silver playboy bunny charm he loved to show off.

   “Listen, the year is almost up. I want you to know I don’t hold it against you. You went through some shit at home too. Truce?” No response. A beat before his chin lifted. “You never went crying to your slut mother about me. My dad said she sucks the mailman off.”

   "Don't say shit about my mother." Evie was on her toes. Hands clenching.

   "Didn't cry to daddy either, oh...my bad. You can't." Brock's laughter rang sirens around her head. He was begging her to go off again. "Why didn't you tell mommy about me? We almost had fun."

   “You didn’t get far with me if that’s what you mean, you think I’d give you my tears? Just embarrassed that you bat at fat chicks and get turned down. Eat shit, Tannen.” She got around him, staggered away.

   “Maybe I’ll convince you. I just want to be friends. It’s going to be a new year soon.” His voice lingered along the hallways. "Just messing with you cause I like you is all." More chuckles followed.

   Guys like Tannen secretly wanted her. Unobtainable and strange girls who didn’t conform to stupid high school stereotypes, it really pissed people off. Exotic, which was truly the worst word. Evie was easy to fetishize. 

   Billy got over Heather because Evie passed him moments later with his tongue down some Ridgemont girl’s throat.

   The boy was all mouth and hands. Sucked face like a fucking giant squid attacking a ship at sea.

   "Ick. Fucking Cthulhu." She got away from that, drank more to forget.

   Heather pulled her friend into the dancing. Lights blasting all directions. Music pulsed. Couple more drinks and they were stumbling to Heather’s place. Sneaking up the stairs to fall into a queen sized bed.

   “Can’t believe we didn’t wake my parents.” Heather rolled to her front, smudged the pillow with makeup. Evie was on her side snickering. “Hey, you’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

   “Nothing is wrong.” Brown eyes blinked. Heather nuzzled her pillow and breathed even, searching.

   “You changed last year. After, what happened at home… I know you miss your dad.” Delicate fingertips ran over Evie's arm. Slipped away.

   “He left.”

   Evie remembered coming home from school. He was just gone. Clothes and all. Mona crying at the table. Pictures down. Like he never existed.

   And her mother never really explained why. Just said they had problems and her dad wanted to be with someone else. He never called. Mona cried that day and hasn’t cried since. Evie couldn’t even remember the last thing she said to him. 

   People vanish. They have that power.

   “After...what happened with Tannen. You got all distant with me. I just worry about you a lot.” Heather’s fingers curled into Evie’s sleeve. “Kids are cruel, I don’t understand why. Why they're so mean...”

   “Some people don’t know where to put it when they hate themselves.”

   “I don't think I hate myself. Sometimes I hate that myself isn't enough, you know? Enough to please my parents all the time and enough to help other people out."

   "You're more than enough for me, Heather." Evie heard a sniffle.

   "D-Do you hate yourself?” An airy tone slurred.

   “I don’t know.” Evie sighed. “I’m fine, Heath, I’m happy. I dealt with it.”

   “Happy or pretending to be?” Heather mused, pulling at her hair scrunchie to relieve brown locks. “I just don’t see you a lot, like you’re always with someone else. You never wanted to hang out over the summer.”

   “I’m just busy with stuff, it’s nothing.” Evie peered at the walls plastered in their friendship. Felt every smiling version of herself in those old photographs wince at her lies. Stars exploding in total silence.

   “You’re going to leave Hawkins and sing your songs for people on a stage. You’re going to be world famous and I’ll get to point and say, that’s my best friend.” Heather grinned. “Keep breaking that shell. I can help you.”

   “I’ll try.” Evie scoffed. “You’re so drunk.”

   “I am…” Heather hummed. “Just talk to me, okay? I want you to be so happy again. Like we used to be when we’d go to the park. Play on swing sets.”

   “I won’t shut you out.” She replied as Heather settled, started to snore. “Goodnight, Heath.”

   “M’night.”

** ** **

   Billy was still raging into that night. Stumbled out of a bedroom pulling his tee back on, rooting around for his jacket. Most kids were starting to pass out on floors and couches.

   “Hey, this belong to you?” Brock plucked up leather so Billy snatched it. “Good to see you, Hargrove. You know, they say Hawkins would have finished out the basketball season with the title if you stayed on the team.”

   “They played favorites. Got sick of it.” Billy passed him, lightning a cigarette.

   “Come outside, sit with the guys.” Brock cocked his head, square jaw setting when he smiled.

   “Hey, B.” Tommy was stoned out of his mind. Looked at Billy like he was trying to find him in a haystack. Not with Carol so they must have had some fight. 

   Billy eyed the clear covered pool. Lights played up to touch his face before he plopped into a metal chair. Boys from Hawkins and other schools gathered around a glass table, drinking and shooting the shit. A joint was passed. Mostly rich, sporty types.

   “Hargrove. Hear you’re the Hawkins Keg King. What the hell happened with Harrington?” Brock faked interest, hands clasped.

   “Crashed and burned, man.” Tommy chortled, smacking Billy’s arm.

   “Who?” Just play dumb.

   “Don’t play coy, man, we all know you beat the shit out of him. Knocked the pretty boy down a few pegs.” Brock only grinned there. “So, you’re in the circle now.”

   “Oooh, do I get a medal?” Billy flicked his smoke aside and swiped Tommy’s beer to drink.

   “I like this guy, Hagan.” 

   “We can trust him.” Tommy winked, sitting back.

   “You’re not going to hunt me for sport, are you?” Billy inhaled sharper, unworried. Laughter erupted.

   “It’s funny you say that,” Brock took the floor, “because we are going to let you in on the deepest secret between the high schools. Something that brings all the boys together. Hawkins. Ridgemont. Hill Valley. Bates. We have this little tradition we do between Homecoming and Prom.”

   “Skirt Safari.” Brock’s right hand man chuckled, sucking the joint down. Few boys echoed it with laughter.

   “The hell is that?” Billy drank, shaking his hair out.

   “Some of us guys throw this big dance party. Rent out a nice place in town, pour some good money into a pool.” Brock shrugged. “You take a girl and we vote.”

   “Vote?” Billy puffed. More cruel smiles.

   “Yeah, on which girl is the ugliest beast.” Hyena cackling followed. Billy just stared with his brow raised.

   “Ah...What the fuck is this? Are you joking?”

   “Open season, man.” Another boy chimed in.

   “Walk with me, Hargrove, you have something special about you.” Brock got up, swiped the joint to finish it. Billy looked irritated and followed. Fresh air cleared his head. Behind them, teens chattered. “I think you’ll fit right in here. You live on Cherry Lane, right?”

   “What’s it to you?” Billy chucked the beer aside.

   “Next to that Fenny girl. Kinda cute in her new little outfits if you like something extra to grab onto.” Brock shrugged. Turned from Billy to eye the sky clearing up.

   “Didn’t she beat your ass last year?” A sly grin crossed.

   “Ah, you heard. Rumors have been exaggerated. Just like you and Harrington I’m sure. Getting booted from the team over a tiff.”

   “I left on my own, fuck them.”

   “Fenny had a thing for me and I said no because I was with someone, so she got emotional. Girls are like that. They get attached and upset when we don't give them what they need.” Brock stuffed his hands into his pockets. “She’s untouched, you know, so I heard. Flaunting her shit now and not letting us grab the goods. Asking for it man, but too afraid to follow through. I hate that teasing shit. They say the bookworms are wild in the sack. Bet you that musical girl can sing too.”

   “You obsessed with her now and her little outfits?” That earned Billy a brief heated expression. The boy was more observant than he was given credit for.

   “I just wanted to raise a challenge for you. Get Fenny to go to Skirt Safari as your date. New Years Eve, we’ll give you the address. Kiss her before the clock strikes twelve. She won’t earn you the win, but I’ll bet you money that you can’t get the famous ice queen to go.”

   “Man, this is so fucking stupid.” Billy clearly didn’t fit with this crowd of uppity shits. Heels spun to go.

   “Is three hundred dollars stupid?” Brock watched Billy skid. Blue eyes shifting to see him again. “Ah, I have your attention.”

   “Cash?” Billy could use it. Three hundred would go far for him. Brock Tannen knew that immediately about him.

   “I can show it to you if you like.” Brock displayed his teeth, almost glowing and sharp. “Show us that Hargrove charm and break the unbreakable. If you're the Keg King. Prove it. Let us see you in action.”

   “I take her to the shitty party and you give me three hundred bucks?" Billy asked carefully, eyes darting. "She doesn't have to find out about this vote shit you guys do?”

   “No, not a word from us. I'll even pay your end of the pool as a token. Just an innocent kiss before the ball drops. You don't have to screw her, unless she's your thing. Easy enough?” Brock held out his hand. Billy eyed the campy bunny chain around Tannen’s neck, huffed out his nose.

   Took the offer with a hard expression.

   “Deal.”

** ** **

   Evie rubbed her eyes the next morning and said bye to Heather, raking fingers through curls as she was dropped off. Jacket pulled close while she fumbled for keys and Heather drove off.

   Not even a second after, a blue Camaro was pulling up next door. 

   It was annoying how great Billy looked even with a hangover after a hard night of partying. He stunk of beer and smoke and his hair was ratted, but glowy as always. Evie groaned when he spotted her and got the key in the door.

   “Hey, Evie.” Was that her name he just used? “Hey, wait up.” Boots clicked to hurry toward her house. A stronger hand yanked the front door closed and Billy held his ground there. "Wait a second, I'm trying to talk to you."

   “Aren’t we both too hungover for this?” Already on the defensive. Makeup smeared around her eyes. She turned, applying some chapstick and sighed out. "What?"

   “Look.” Billy pushed his hands into his back pockets, eyes flicking away and back. “It was a dick move. The whole Heather thing.”

   “Yeah.” She waited for him to go on.

   “And I’m…” Sorry? “It was shitty.” He craned down toward her. "The stuff I said, I was fucking wasted."

   "And you're..." She tried to spell the word out with her eyes. Billy blinked innocently.

   "An asshole."

   Evie flattened.

   "Yes, but not what I was...ah, look, it doesn't matter. I was drunk and I jabbed too. And I am...sorry." A shrug before she tried the door again.

   Billy pulled it shut once more like this was a game, earning a sigh of irritation.

   "I'm still talking at you. I was...I am...a shithead." He couldn't wrap his squid tongue around a fucking apology. Christ.

   Evie looked expectantly, leaning in as if more should come.

   Billy sucked at this so he decided to jump right in.

   “I wanted to make it up to you. There’s this dance up in the city. Real bar. Real drinks. New Years Eve bash. Go with me.” It sounded like an order.

   “Go with you?” She blinked in shock. Grew pointed. “Ah, no, Billy.” Evie got her front door open again and pushed by him. Wondered if he was used to rejection in any form. So, she pushed pride aside. “But, Heather thinks you’re cute okay. Just ask her. It’s fine.”

   She got around the door and hid half behind it. Billy’s hand went flat to stop it from shutting.

   “I don’t want to ask Heather, I’m asking you.” He shrugged with big eyes. Bet ladies fell for it. Evie searched him, beyond confused. She hated confusion. It was too much. “You’re single, it’s this or some lame ass high school party.”

   He noted she opened her mouth and decided not to protest the single part. The hesitation was odd.

   "I...I happen to like lame ass high school parties." She stammered out.

   "Oh, sure." He winked.

   "Y-Yeah, I just love them actually because kids our age are very stupid. It's better than public television."

   "Right. Right." He sounded not convinced.

   "And, you're Billy Hargrove so any girl will jump at the chance, just ask-"

   “I’m asking you, Angel. Deal with it.” He lowered his tone and got closer. Flashed a darling smile then bit his lip. Slid that tongue over it. "Don't make me beg. You know I will."

   “You...I… Look, I’m...flattered but, I can’t. I, uh, have a thing.” Her voice trailed off. “Sorry.” The door shut.

   Billy gave this growl low in his throat. 

   “We have time, Fenny, I’m fine asking again.” His voice picked up. Silence. "All you gotta do is nod that pretty head of yours."

   Billy knew she heard it. He turned and dropped the grin when he spotted Max there on the sidewalk, skateboard in hand. Watching.

   "Are you asking Evie out?" She narrowed on him.

   "Mind your fucking business, shitbird." Billy stepped off the porch. "She's going to a party with me."

   "Sounded like she just said no to you."

   Billy swerved to get angry. Remembered a nail bat crashing between his legs. Shut his mouth.

   "Whatever." A puff.

   "She's nice," Max trailed after him, "you should, you know...ask her to something if you... She's cool. Cooler than you."

   He slowed, eyebrow raising.

   "Doesn't matter."

   "It's Saturday." Max explained, red hair catching the sunlight to flame up.

   "I know what day it is, Max, leave me alone." Billy was going up toward their house.

   "She probably said no because you stink so bad."

   "What the fuck?" He wheeled around again, chest puffing.

   Max smirked at him and Billy found himself matching it. Bold little shit.

   "I know what I said. And it's Saturday, that means she'll probably be helping her mom at that salon later. You should shower and show up. Girls like spontaneous stuff, it's thoughtful and you suck at that."

   Billy scrunched at her.

   "Since when do you care about...?"

   "About what?" She shuffled there on the grass. Peered at Neil's car in the driveway. "We're family now whether we like it or not. Which means I'm stuck looking out for you. Right, Billy?" Max dropped her skateboard, popping it up with one foot. "I like Evie and I don't want my brother being a jerk to her. Or anyone."

   Billy scoffed, near amused.

   "Right." He grumbled. Went up and paused to turn once more. "Max."

   "Yeah?" She readied to ride off.

   "Watch the board around my damn car, will you?" Billy heard her snort. "I got shit to do now, stay out of the way."

   "Take a shower and show up. Try asking instead of telling. See what happens." Max rode off with a clatter of wheels on concrete. He only shook his head again. Smiled to himself without thinking before he went in.

   Billy decided to take the advise on all accounts. She'd go with him.

   Certainty crept the more he looked at himself in the mirror and applied his aftershave. Maybe he forced the feeling so often, it was second nature. Fuck, looking at his reflection was never this difficult. Evie's words rang harder this morning.

   He didn't blame her for once.

   All these false fronts Billy showed the world. Old photographs flashing like a million dead stars. That was all we ever saw of them. Somewhere else, Evie heard those same stars dying too. Decayed and twinkling too pretty even still. It sounded almost like a cruel fate.

   A tongue swept over his lips before he tried something new. Eyes averting to speak quietly like someone might hear. Fingers twisting the silver ring about his middle finger.

   "Sorry."

   He resumed fixing his curls. Polished up that Hargrove charm until it shined bright.

   What Evangeline Fenny didn't know couldn't possibly hurt her, Billy reasoned.

   Right?

~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, chat with me if you have time! Tried to push another chp out quick. Imma pass out now XOXO TAGGED: @80sbxtch​ @nottherightseason​ @orxhidshavana​  

[rileychester]

I do think Maria got shafted this season, but I also think the same of Kyle, Rosa, and Alex.

They all could have been written and treated better this season.

I know they had problems with filming since the actors had to be limited to so many episodes each season.

But instead of weighing the show down with so much unnecessary crap, they could had cut that and focused on their actual cast and stories they had built in season one.

*Like Maria’s relationship with her mom, her powers, and her background should had been tackled more. I still feel like she was used as a prop for Michael and an obstacle for Malex which is insulting and degrading for her. She gets to fall fo a guy, knowing deep down he’s also in love with someone else? Why was she put in a relationship, where she going to be treated as someone he settles for or second best in the long run? Maria doesn’t deserve that, she deserves her own great love. What about Maria having her own story? And how about the horrible crap that some people were saying about Maria and Heather, that was unacceptable and has no place in the fandom or in general. Maria deserved better.

*Kyle had so much in season one, Kyle/Alex friendship, Project Shepard, what really happened to his dad, his new siblings relationship with Rosa, his showdown with Jesse. And in season two, what happens. He gets an isolated story with a romance and some scenes with Liz. Why wasn’t he part of what was going on with Alex and Project Shepard, or more with Rosa, his recently back from the dead half sister? Or what was going on with Helena wanting revenge for Jim’s murder when Kyle had already been down that route? Kyle deserved better.

*Rosa comes back from the dead and they show her struggling, which makes sense since she went through a lot of stuff before hand before she was killed and then brought back to life and everything has changed. She also is an addict who has issues. She is pretty isolated, they have her connect with Isobel, which is a nice friendship. But why hardly any scenes with Kyle who is her brother and talking about Jim. Or scenes with Maria, since they were apparently such good friends. She is seen relapsing and shipped off to rehab, again the actress was only available for so many episodes I get, but I think they could had handle that better. Rosa deserved better.

*The whole triangle was badly written and executed. It was wonky, all over the place, and insulting to everyone involved. Because Carina really thought it was a good idea to pit two POC and minorities against each other for some guy. Maria a black woman that has already been written and treated horribly by the show. And Alex a gay, biracial, disable veteran who had survived years of abuse and PTSD. It just made Michael look like a selfish and crappy person in my opinion. And only fueled the stupid fandom war that just sucked for everyone involved. Also what kind of crack was she smoking thinking that vile and disgusting threesome scene was a good idea. It backfired horribly thankfully and hopefully the show has learned from that. Hopefully the triangle is over and everyone gets to move on.

*Last but not least, Alex, dear sweet Alex. They don’t show him getting to be hurt or raising a fuss over the discomfit he must have been feeling over Maria and Michael’s pairing. True, Alex isn’t the type to cause a fuss, but nothing is unrealistic. Michael was also a dick to Alex for a lot of the season, misplacing his Manes anger against Alex. There was no Kyle and Alex friendship scenes, Alex was kinda left off to his own without any support or care. He got to go through several breakups with Michael when they weren’t even together. No moving on from this cosmic love, like Michael got to do. And then the boyfriend that they hinted at Alex getting, that was a blink and you miss it. That didn’t actually happen until the very end of the season. Than Alex was not only kidnapped by his family once, but twice. And no one seemed to care. Plus they have him still carrying around all his grief and trauma over what happened in that shed, but that is barely process, so that could be left for the finale and that song. Alex constantly got the short stick this season. Alex deserved better.

This season has been crap and such a waste of time and energy. If season three isn’t going to be the last, Carina needs to pull her head out of her ass and do a better job.

[turning-dreams-into-chaos]

Banished (Part 22)

*Not my Gif*

Summary: When the 100 was sent to the ground, Y/N Y/L/N was one of them. Having been locked up for almost 8 years, how will she react to surviving on Earth? Especially when she gets banished…

Post Date: 11-03-19

Paring: Bellamy Blake x Reader

Word Count: 3.8K

A/N: I did it! It’s finished and I hope you all like it! Special thanks to those of you who offered to help! Love you ♥️

~Banished Master~

~Master List~

*Based on episode 2x09 of the 100, Remember me*

*Bold Italics are in Trig, I’m just lazy!*

As the darkness faded away, you kept practicing until your arms were aching and then some. But the moment you let your sword drop, all the pain and all the feelings come flooding back and suddenly you found yourself on your knees being held up with shaken hands. You settled your breathing and yet the pit in your stomach still there, you could feel a pair of eyes on you. Looking over your shoulder you caught a glimpse of the person you least wanted to see.

“Enjoying the show Kane?” Your voice was almost hoarse, from spending all night training and grunting but you paid it no mind.

Kane nodded, taking a step forward as you turned to sit with your knees up, resting the blade across them. “You’ve gotten better.”

The remark almost made you laugh but instead you settled for a scoff. “Yeah, no help from you.”

“Y/N, I-“

“Kane.” You interrupted, “I don’t care anymore. Whatever your excuse is, I just don’t care anymore.” Too much had happened for you to focus on him abandoning you for 10 years. You were about to stand up, go find Lexa or Octavia, you hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to her since the drop ship and you hated it, but Kane sat down and squashed any plans of avoidance.

“Why did you do it?” You furrowed your brows as you didn’t know what he was talking about. “Why did you kill those men?”

You fell silent, not evening acknowledging the fact you heard him but he knew you did. “Your arrest was the one arrest no one could figure out.”

“You really couldn’t figure it out?” You spat before realizing it. Kane flinched, taken back but your words as he scooted closer to you. “Wow, for being part of the chancellors guard, you all suck at paying attention. You know, I’m glad I wasn’t put in your care, maybe if I was then I would’ve turned out neglectful like you.” You were on your feet fast, back turned towards Kane as he shouted.

“And how you are now is better?!” Your feet dug into the ground as you stopped yourself, slowly turning to Kane with a stoic face.

“Yeah. At least I fought my demons, instead of abandoning them, locking them in a cell, ignoring them for 8 years, then sending them to earth to die.” Kane was on his feet, striding closer to you as he looked down at you.

“There’s a reason for that.”

“No Kane. There’s no reason to abandon an 8 year old and put her into the care of punch happy guard with a drinking problem.” The words tumbled out and there was nothing you could do to stop it as Kane’s jaw dropped open. Out of any reason Kane had supplied on you killing them- grieving, going crazing, accidental- he never came to the conclusion you were being beaten. It made him sick to think about the fact that he left you, a girl he loved like a daughter, in the hands of someone who would break her day in and day out.

He was about to say something that you already knew you didn’t want to hear before a horn went off, meaning you all were heading back to Tondc. You didn’t say anything as you turned towards the sound, you mind almost as exhausted as your arms and you didn’t hear Kane’s steps follow yours.

You caught a couple different glances along the way but you didn’t return them, keeping your eyes straight ahead before Lexa’s tent came into view and you entered, shocked to see her alone sitting her chair and staring into the ground.

“Heda?” You questioned as she sat straighter and looked to you.

“You trained with Indra?” You nodded as she smiled a little. “Did it help with your anger?”

You let out a little laugh, realizing that the training was Lexa’s idea and that was why Indra wasn’t so keen on you. “I think so. That or seeing Indra get knocked down.” Lexa laughed at your joke, a hint of welcoming in her eyes before it was gone and someone entered the tent behind you.

“Commander, everyone’s ready.” Gustus said taking a glare at you before focusing on Lexa. You tried to ignore the annoyance in your head as you excused yourself and headed outside. Gustus was right, everything was packed up and you were shocked you hadn’t noticed it on your way in, then again you weren’t really looking around.

A spot of blonde hair next to you caught your attention as you saw Clarke staring off into space. You understood that feeling, she just lost her boyfriend. You were about to go over to her and say something, just anything to let her know you’re sorry before a voice stopped you.

“Y/N?” You spun around at the familiar sound, not even caring as you engulfed Octavia in a hug she just as quickly returned.

“God O, I missed you so much.” You whispered in her ear as you closed your eyes. You felt your shoulder get a little wet and knew she was crying slightly but you didn’t mind it. Octavia was the one person who you couldn’t be mad at, no matter what. When you pulled away, you cupped her cheek with your palm, wiping away any tears as she smiled.

“I missed you too. I wanted to talk to you at the drop ship but I was kind of busy.” She took a step to the side as you saw Lincoln, a smile on his face as he watched you and Octavia embrace. You gave him the same hug, a sigh of relief escaping you when you see he was alright.

The moment was over quick though when you pulled away, slapping his arm a little. “Don’t ever do that again! You don’t get to die!” He chuckled at your response, wrapping an arm around you and bringing you into his hold again.

It was nice to be with him again knowing you were both outsiders. Lincoln from the grounders and you from the sky people. Your reunion was cut short as the wall to Tondc started and you stayed arms linked with Octavia the entire time.

“When did you get that?” She asked, nodding down to the sword attached to your hip.

“Indra’s training me. Says I’m supposed to learn how to fight like a grounder.” She nodded her head, taking a look at the woman herself who was weary of all the sky people around her as her hand never left her own weapon. “Although, I’m much better with a bow.” You told her as she began to tell you all about Lincoln training her.

Bellamy walked next to Clarke, his gun in hand as he kept taking glances back and his eyes trained on you. He only looked away when Clarke stared off into the woods in fear. “Hey, you okay?” He asked her as she kept taking glances back into the woods, blowing off Bellamy’s question with a simple yeah.

“You still think this truce is a bad idea, don’t you?” Bellamy’s jaw hardened as he stared ahead of himself.

“We’re wasting time on politics while our friends are in trouble. Their army has been getting their ass kicked for years. What we need is an inside man.”

Clarke shook her head. “It’s too dangerous.”

“If you two made it out, then I can make it in.” Bellamy ignored the way his stomach dropped as he mentioned you. Clarke on the other hand continued to decline Bellamy’s idea. She knew she only made it out because of you and Anya and if Bellamy was going in there alone, he wouldn’t have any backup.

Bellamy didn’t like Clarke’s refusal, demanding a better reason as Clarke slowed down. “I can’t lose you too.” His lips fell into a straight line, nodding before they continued walking. “Besides, what am I supposed to tell them?” She looked over her shoulder, past her mom and Kane, at you and Octavia. You were no longer talking anymore and just walking forward. Bellamy peaked behind him too, getting your attention before looking ahead. He didn’t say anything to Clarke but he knew she just wanted to give him another reason to stay.

The moment you met Bellamy’s eyes and he looked away, you couldn’t help but feel guilty again.

You tried to push yourself away from your head, focusing on Lexa talking to Gustus about the alliance, but you weren’t fluent at all in Trigedasleng.

“It could kill our...”

“Our... or me?”

“Then do your job and protect me.”

Gustus has a sour look on his face when you turned around, seeing the way he stared at the sky people with distain. You knew that look, Gustus was planning something.

You set up camp a little ways from Tondc and immediately everyone separated into Sky People and Grounders. You scoffed as you found fallen tree and leaned against it, knowing that you weren’t going to get much, if any sleep for the second night in a row. Much to your surprise, Clarke took a spot in the middle of the camp, lining herself up with both sides as Bellamy tells her its safer on their side. Clarke doesn’t listen, telling him they need to build trust before she started to lay down. She noticed you staring, giving you a light smile and head nod. It took a minute but you decided to return the nod, letting Clarke know what she’s doing, building trust, it’s going to be appreciated.

The camp died down, fires went out and you stared into the brightly lit stared sky. It never felt the same as it did when you were a child staring out of the window in the hallways. It felt more natural here, like the stars weren’t being blocked by the glass.

“I’m sorry.” Bellamy whispered as he came into your field of view.

“About what?”

He took a seat next to you, copying your stance and staring into the moon and stars. “Lots of things.” You fell into a silence and for once it wasn’t awkward or out of anger. It was wanted. Call it sleep deprivation or pure craziness, but you grabbed Bellamy’s hand, hearing his breathing hitch before he adjusted his grip, wrapping his fingers around your hand.

“I’m sorry too. I’m tired of fighting with you Bellamy. You’re too persistent and I’m too messed up.” You both looked at each other, both of your mouths turned to a frown but both deserved. “I’m just not used to people caring anymore. You know, one minute I’m getting ready for my death and the next I’m being hurled through space towards earth where I meet my new best friend and her dumb brother.” You both laughed as he nudged you in the shoulder, making you laugh a little harder. A few people around you woke up, sending you death glares as you hid your face in between your shoulder and Bellamy’s. The action made Bellamy smile and he squeezed your hand.

“Y/N?” Bellamy whispered as you hummed. “What are we?”

You didn’t really know how to answer that. What were you? “Friends?”

Bellamy smiled again, knowing that you finally considered him a friend made his stomach have butterflies. “Friends.” He repeated softly. You stayed with your head on his shoulder and he rested his on top of yours, as you both slowly dozed off.

You woke up to the sounds of people rising as Bellamy and you shared a few embarrassed glances and got up, grabbing your things and finishing the 10 mile trek to Tondc. They took all the weapons, searching all the sky people and you.

You were all lead into Tondc, Bellamy by your side and for once you weren’t paying attention to him. The grounders around you were screaming, yelling threats about death to the sky people and among them your heard a few death to Skaikiler. You held your breath as a man stepped out into the way and Lexa signaled Gustus to remove him. Gustus started to beat on him and Clarke begged for her to make him stop, saying they’ll blame them for it. Lexa turned to you and you gave her a knowing look as she orders Gustus to stop. Clarke caught onto the exchange with confusion, not sure as to why Lexa had looked to you.

“Warm welcome.” Bellamy mumbles to you after Lexa’s promise to kill anyone threatening the alliance. You nodded, swallowing thickly and following after Clarke with Bellamy.

After Finns funeral you were lead to a dinning hall, a huge table set up and sky people stood on one side while the grounders stood on the other. You didn’t know which side to truly take before Lexa had you stand next to her.

Kane pulled out a bottle of liquor, offering it to the commander. Gustus pulls out two goblets, placing them in front of Lexa before she stops him.

“Grab another for Y/N. She drinks with us.” Gustus nodded his head, casting a frown as he put another cup on the table which Lexa filled in the liquid. She hands one to you and one to Clarke and you toast almost taking a sip before Gustus has stopped you all.

“Heda, allow me.” He took the cup from Lexa, taking a drink before handing it back.

“Today we celebrate peace...” Lexa began as you tapped your finger against the cup. Almost as soon as she finished her speech Gustus collapsed behind you and everyone went into shock as he started convulsing. Bellamy smacked the cup out of your hand as Abby took the one out of Clarke’s. You were frozen, staring at Bellamy’s wide eyes as Indra screamed for you all to be searched again.

“We didn’t do this! You know we didn’t!” Clarke cried out as you finally pulled yourself together, allowing the grounder to frantically search you, only to come up empty.

“Heda.” Someone who was searching Raven said as you turned your attention, seeing him pull out a small vile of poison.

“No sky person leaves this room.” Lexa orders before leaving, locking you in there with the rest of them.

You sat in the corner, resting your head back against the cold concrete.

Kane, who was standing on the other side of the room, was pacing back and forth.

...a punch happy guard with a drinking problem.

He knew something more was going on when you were arrested and now everything was starting to make sense. Except one thing. He walked over to Bellamy, who was leaning on the wall.

“Why was she banished?” He asked, skipping all formalities. Bellamy sucked in a breath, clearing his throat as he tried to find the words.

“She killed a kid.”

“Who?”

Bellamy felt like they were loudest people in the room as he continued. “Some kid named James. I don’t know, she left the camp and when we went to find her she had a knife and was covered in his blood.” Kane wore a scowl as his mind kept piecing things together, one after another.

James. He knew exactly why the only James was sent down here.

Kane pushes himself away from Bellamy, who proceeded to follow him. “Kane. What’s wrong?”

“James was arrested for raping a girl when he was intoxicated.” He told Bellamy in a hushed whisper as Bellamy’s world just collapsed. The night you killed him, half the camp was drunk off their asses. There was no reason for James not to be as well.

Clarke was the first person to approach you, sliding down the wall until she was on the floor. “Raven didn’t poison the drink.”

“I know.” You assured her, peaking open an eye to see her taken back look.

“What?”

“I know Raven didn’t poison the drink.”

“How?”

You guffawed, “You’re dumb Clarke. But you’re not stupid. You need this alliance. If you don’t the mountain men won’t be the ones dying. It will be your people.”

“Our people.”

“Your people.” The bitterness in your voice made Clarke stop trying. But when she stared straight ahead, her eyes widened and her breathing started increasing. “Clarke? What’s wrong with you?” You were concerned for the blonde. Since Finn, she hasn’t been acting like herself.

She hesitated but sighed, leaning her head back like you. “Just problems.” She said, blowing off your concern.

“Lexa needs this alliance.” You shift in your seat to face Clarke as she follows. “She thinks we tried to kill her, so let’s figure out who did.”

“Who wants her dead?”

You shake your head, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth. “Too many to count. This alliance was a risk even more so after Finn.”

Clarke’s face dropped at the mention of his name. Everyone started to gather around you two, listening in and trying to help. You kept your eyes drawn to the floor and dodging the glances of Bellamy and Kane. “So it has to be someone trying to break the alliance?” Octavia asks before the door opens, Indra enters and everyone scrambled to their feet. Bellamy pushes you and Octavia behind him and you were thankful for the buffer as right now the woman most likely isn’t taking to you very well. They pull Raven out against all your pleads, saying when she’s dead the alliance is too. Raven was tied up and you and Lincoln shared a glance. He’s told you about this ritual, 1000 cuts and she’s dead. Suddenly everything became blurry and people were yelling and Raven was getting cut. Your head started spinning and you just wanted this to stop. Abby and Clarke were talking before Abby left her and you took her place.

“Clarke. Do something.” You told her as she spun around towards the inside of the room.

“I can’t take it anymore! Say something!” Clarke yelled into nothing and you furrowed your brows.

“Clarke?” You pressed, now completely sure something was going on with Clarke that you didn’t know about. Abby came back, yelling at the both of you in order to make their escape. “Clarke?” You grabbed her shoulders, trying to get her to look at you but she didn’t. Instead she glanced down to where the discarded goblet laid.

“It wasn’t in the bottle.” She mumbled.

“What?” You gasped as she grabbed your hand and pulled you along with her upstairs. Bellamy caught you when Clarke let go.

“Clarke stop! You’re gonna get yourself killed!” He yelled but she ignored him. “Are you alright?” He asked looking over you as you stood in shock. You nodded your head, taking a step closer to Lexa as Bellamy followed, a hand gently laid on your back. Clarke drank the liquor Kane brought as Lexa watched in anger.

“Explain.”

“The poison was never in the bottle, it was in the cup.”

“A trick commander.” Gustus spoke as the hand on your back, pressed you more into Bellamy.

“It was you. You searched Raven.” Lexa denied Bellamy’s words, saying Gustus would never harm her before you realized,

“You weren’t the target. The alliance was.” Lexa turned to you, a frown on her lips.

“You’ve been accused Gustus, speak true.” Gustus told her the truth, how this alliance would cost her her life. “And this treachery will cost you yours.”

Raven was taken down and Gustus was strung up instead. Everyone taking a slice at him.

“This would’ve been Finn.” Raven mumbled as you whisper a yeah. Bellamy grabbed your hand, both of your eyes never wavering from Gustus.

Lexa delivered the final blow as Gustus’ head dipped to his chest.

That night you all sat around fires, drinking in the silence like air. You were sitting across the fire from Bellamy, seeing the way the fire lit up his face as you closed your eyes.

Lincoln broke the silence, “How did you know it was Gustus?”

“He’d do anything to protect her, it made sense.” Lincoln glanced at Octavia the same time Bellamy glances at you, the thought getting to him as he watched you stare at the flames again.

Bellamy could only think about what Kane told him today, knowing that he needed to talk to you about it because it’s been eating him up all day. “Y/N, I need to ta-“

“Hey guys, listen to this!” Raven said interrupting Bellamy as he sighed and got up, you following right after him and listening to part of Jaspers rescue message before leaving, heading straight to Lexa.

“We have the alliance.” You told her as she dismissed the men she was talking to. “Time to use it. Get both your people and our people out.”

“Your people?” She asked as you dropped your gaze.

“Their people. Your people and their people.” She nodded her head ar your correction and saw Clarke started making her way over to you two before stopping and talking to air. You left Lexa and walked back to the fires, expecting everyone to still be there but all there was Lincoln and Octavia sat next to their fire. You took your original spot, looking around for Bellamy but came up empty. Resting your head in your lap you tried to drown out everyone around you. But one voice made it through.

“I know why you got arrested.” Kane said as he took seat next to you. His eyes were lined with bags and you could tell he was just beating himself up. You didn’t say anything as Octavia and Lincoln glance at you, trying to keep from overhearing but at the same time they were curious.

“Kane, you don’t have to-“

“I know it wasn’t your fault.” He put a hand on your knee and you refrained from pushing it away, knowing that you needed this as much as he did. “You were defending yourself.”

“Why didn’t you come talk to me? 8 years and no visits.” You rushed out with a wavering voice.

“I was scared. I was confused. I was-“

“Neglectful.” You finished for him as he nodded, squeezing your knee before letting go. You put your head back into your lap and tried to even your breathing. “You knew Kane. You knew my parents killed themselves and part of it was because of me. You read the letter and you still abandoned me. You didn’t want me then so you get to have me now.”

You felt like you were repeating yourself and it seemed like no matter what, Kane was just not getting the fact that you wouldn’t have turned out like this if he hadn’t abandoned you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Everyone’s sorry.” You told him, “but saying you’re sorry doesn’t make me any less damaged.” You left the fire and Kane, walking to the edge of the woods and sitting alone in the dark.

Feedback?

All Taglists Open

*Reblogging with Banished Tags*

Permanent: @literal-fand0m-trash @just4muggles @saturn-aka-six @nathaliabakes @whyamihere-bro @colored-confetti @wiseeggspickleslime @sadn0va @btsiguess-kpop @galacticstxrdust @independentgirl @wellhellotherelovey @hollymac79

Bellamy: @jodiereedus22 @nyxxxwtp @danielabetancourth

[j-morgan-fly]

Fandom Discord, GOT/ASOIAF

You know what’s messed up? That I can’t even find someone to do commission of Jonsa with their four children from a story I’m writing because of the discourse in the Game of Thrones fandom between Jonsa/Sansa Stans and Jonerys/Dany stans. 

Like seriously? 

And by the way, I completely understood and respected my commission being turned down for the reason that the wonderful artist did not want to draw attention to themselves that would make them a target of ridiculous and unnecessary hateful criticism for choosing to draw that particular couple for me.

To the fandom:

I understand where both fans are coming from, I get what makes the couples and characters appealing and also what makes the couple and characters unappealing. But the fact that we give others so much crap over who we like is nonsense. There fictional characters in fictional relationships that we like to read, write and draw but that is all they are. If they helped you get through a tough time, that is awesome, for others these couples and characters might make them think of more upsetting times are people they knew in real life that hurt them or they see troublesome parallels with historical figures or events in which are controversial and dangerous. I know that happens a lot with Dany, but guys, be respectful, fight that urge to stand up for your fave if you think it’s going to end badly between you and the other person. I do it all the time. 

No one is telling you(or they should not be telling you if they are) who you should like but everyone is allowed to explain why or why not they like certain characters. If they think a character is racist, thats valid, that is their perspective and we need to learn from why they see it that way and bring that into our own lives and fix the way we see and treat people. If someone thinks a character or relationship is abusive, the same as the first point should be applied. 

Also, we don’t have to like a pairing or a character to appreciate amazing talent and art. I see Jonerys art posted all the time and I appreciate how beautiful and skilled the artist is even if that is not something I personally ship.

Honest to God, I don’t even really ship Jonsa. I don’t really ship either, I don’t think I’ve ever put much effort into writing a Jonsa romantic fic. I’m doing it now to learn how to get out of my comfort zone, to expand my writing skills and after I want to try my hand at writing Jonerys but ya’ll need to fucking lay off while I make my attempt and let me try without shitting on it because it’s not exact to how you see your faves. The same is applied for art. Do not EVER give shit to an artist for the basic ass reason that you just don’t like the pairing they have drawn/painted.

Like shit, I know we can’t make everyone happy, that really sucks but it’s life. We all got to live on this planet together, we are all on this god forsaken sight for some reason still, so lets me tolerant of each others ships and faves and keep our thoughts to ourselves if we got nothing constructive to say and the same goes for people responding. If you don’t like someone making a counter point or pointing something out that is in disagreement with your fave/ship and you can’t bring yourself to respond back maturely then fucking ignore it. Keep going, move on with your next thing. If you feel that you are just going in circles, no one is learning anything from each other and it’s just a roast then stop, don’t type another thing and move on.

This is not an attack on one or the other, I am speaking out to both sides!

Damn, can’t believe I even had to write this.

And if you guys want to give me shit about picking sides, point out all my ant-Dany rebloggs go ahead. I’m allowed to reblog, I’m allowed to agree with certain issues pointed out about their character mostly because their aren’t as many about Sansa not that the anti-Sansa force is not strong in that group. It is. And both sides usually have the same arguments over and over, at this point I think I’ve learned all I can about why people hate both and why people like both.

Shit, these girls are super flawed, we don’t need to pit them against each other but it’s also misogynistic to just think because they’ve been through similar trauma and are women they have to be best friends. They don’t. I also don’t believe either has to just accept and kiss the others ass either. They can be at odds, some people just don’t get along and sometimes it’s justified and sometimes it’s not. Sometimes you just have a gut feeling, sometimes you just butt heads, your unable to see eye to eye and that can lead to really, really bad conflict or it’s something that just means their will always be a huge distance between these two people. 

Thanks, that is it. 

[celebiii]

WILFY AND LANE >:3c

Ah yeah two of the oldest bitches I GOT let’s GO!

Wilfy

Full Name: Winnifred Muneera | Wilfy as a nickname

Gender and Sexuality: cis female and bisexual

Pronouns: she/her

Ethnicity/Species: She’s a holy variation of a species I made when I was like 10 years old. This species is basically sentient magic and takes the physical appearance of any species it wants. Holy ones are called Skytopians. Wilfy takes the form of a little cat or half cat/half human most of the time.

Birthplace and Birthdate: She was born in Skytopia, which is basically a big kingdom that is located in the clouds. She’s the heir to the throne so she’s a princess. Her birthday is April 8th.

Guilty Pleasures:

-Goofing off on Earth rather than going and doing her princess duties in the sky

-Being lazy and napping on clouds

-Cooking, but moreso the act of it rather than eating anything so she mostly gives food away a lot.

Phobias:

-Death of herself and those around her

-Caverns, canyons, pits, caves, etc. Basically anything that’s dark and gaping and looks as if if you fall in it will suck you in and kill you. She feels like she’s suffocating around these kinds of things.

-Very unnatural and disturbing imagery, ESPECIALLY body horror. If there’s something bending the wrong way, even if it’s like a broken limb, she will probably cry lmao it freaks her out

What They Would Be Famous For: Just being a good person honestly. She does a lot of good and selfless things all the time

What They Would Get Arrested For: Helping the wrong kind of person and getting framed for something she didn’t do

OC You Ship Them With: no one rn. I really want someone for her but I have no idea what to do for a partner at the moment jdkskdks

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Silverhaunt. It isn’t that he hates HER but he hates everything she’s directly connected to so yeah he’d try to kill her ass on sight if he could lmao

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Probably comedy for both tbh

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Horror anything for movies and the good ole “everything sucks and nothing gets better” book endings

Talents and/or Powers:

-Very good at flying with her wings. Maneuvers herself very well even against strong winds and storms and such

-Gets along with pretty much everyone unless they’re awful lmao

-Her magic type is healing and she’s very good at doing so, but she cannot heal herself ironically

-She surprisingly is good with swords, but that’s mostly a very little known fact

Why Someone Might Love Them: there is literally no reason to not love her I’m not gonna lie. I mean I’m biased but shhh-

I mean ok though I guess because she’s such a heavy optimist who sees the good in everything and everyone

Why Someone Might Hate Them: Idk you have bad taste or something?? /j

Ok but no realistically she does have a bad tendency to be naive and give chances to people who don’t deserve it and that is very annoying lmao

How They Change: She doesn’t change much at all if I’m being real, she’s always gonna be a relatively pure little ball of sunshine but I guess she matures a bit over time and maybe wisens up to the ways of the world at some point

Why You Love Them: she is my fucking baby. Also she encompasses a very beautiful and innocent time in my life.

Lane

Full Name: Delanie Ardere | Lane for a nickname

Gender and Sexuality: cis female and lesbian

Pronouns: she/her

Ethnicity/Species: Half of a species of angel that I made up, and half raposa which is a lil race of fox people from a video game lmao

Birthplace and Birthdate: She was born on a large and mostly isolated tropical island called Eptora. She was born October 26th

Guilty Pleasures:

-Reading. In fact she can mostly be found reading books somewhere about 99% of the time. Doesn’t really matter what genre most of the time

-Stargazing and astrology. She’s pretty hooked on that subject and is a major nerd about it

-Collecting weapons

Phobias:

-Being useless and weak

-Disappointing those closest to her

-Abandonment

-Burning out and dying from her magic defect

What They Would Be Famous For: Honestly? A lot of things. Bitch is kinda a badass and canonically tears down a whole ass corrupt monarchy (with help but is the general spearheader of it) just because the people involved were responsible for kidnapping her girlfriend. She’s what we call a very angry hero most of the time and that would be her claim to fame.

What They Would Get Arrested For: ....also a lot lmao. But mostly going against corrupt people and systems who would want her imprisoned for doing so. I would say other contenders are assault and property damage though

OC You Ship Them With: my dude Adam’s OC Althea. They’re very sweet together.

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Buddy there’s a list of people likely who would line up for the opportunity

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Movie I would say action/adventure and book I would say mystery/thriller

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Anything she finds boring for either tbh. There’s nothing specific, but if it doesn’t give her a sense of fulfillment for finishing the story she won’t like it

Talents and/or Powers:

-Physically strong

-Knows how to use a lot of different kinds of weapons, particularly guns and blades

-A good leader who knows how to bring out the strengths in each member of her team

-Her magic is generally unable to be used until she’s at a later stage in life because of a defect in her genetics, but when she can it’s a lot of celestial type magic. So lots of spacey magic that has fire and ice as a main base for its appearance and effect. Most of the time she’ll be using magical weapons tho.

Why Someone Might Love Them: I would say because she’s a badass tbh. She’s a tough punk with a strong set of morals who never gives up and you gotta respect what she stands for, which is generally protecting and uplifting innocents that get caught up in awful circumstances

Why Someone Might Hate Them: She’s one of those people that either respect for being a hotheaded punk or you hate for being a hotheaded punk. I can see why someone wouldn’t like her broody attitude sometimes

How They Change: She gains more confidence and sense of worth for herself throughout the story after originally starting off with about none. She’ll never stop growing and changing and that’s an important part of her overall character

Why You Love Them: She’s my first OC and obviously one of the ones I’m most attached to by default because she’s grown and changed with me so much. If I had to pick one OC to be known by it’d be her. I made her to be the strong female character I wanted to see in the world and idk I just love her

[incorrectly-quoted-queers]

Drunk Punch Love: Chapter 10

Pairing: FemShep and Garrus Vakarian (Shakarian)

Rating: PG-13 (with some tossed F-bombs)

Summary: Their awkward, badass journey through saving the galaxy and accidentally falling in love

Chapter 10: Goodbye

It all started with Joker making a toast. "You may have a serious justice boner going on, and sometimes I think you need to get that stick outta your ass, but I'm still gonna miss you, Garrus. The Normandy won't be the same without the dynamic duo annoying us all to hell."

Garrus laughed, but seemed perplexed. "Dynamic duo?"

"Yeah, you and Shep, shooting shit and making us watch, or dragging us across the galaxy on crusades, or ditching us all to go be broody leader types or whatever. She's going to be irritating without you around to distract her."

Anya wasn't sure she could take anymore of Joker's ramblings, especially when every two sentences he kept on throwing her winks. Joker on a buzz was not nearly as funny or clever as he thought he was. Standing up, she stopped the circus act. "Okay, let's take the glass away from our pilot and sit him the hell down."

Kaidan took said glass and stood next to Joker. "Aye, aye, ma'am."

With a glare, Anya sat back down and crossed her arms. "Oh god dammit, don't ma'am me."

Speaking up like the unhelpful asshole he was, Garrus just smirked at her. "I don't know, Shepard, you could pass for a ma'am."

"That's it, everyone's kicked off the ship."

Instead of feeling threatened, the three men around her just started laughing. Okay, Anya had definitely gotten too lax the past few weeks. Her subordinates didn't even take her seriously.

Before she could get snarkier, Kaidan gave her a friendly smile. "I'll get the pilot and I some water, and you two can enjoy some more time together. We don't need to have him flying drunk if the Geth show up, do we?"

As they walked out of the mess, Joker said, "I could if I had to."

Anya watched them go and couldn't kick the grin on her face. And she also watched them go because she knew if she looked back to Garrus, the pit in her stomach would form and she'd have to deal with those feelings again.

For days, ever since Liara left, she'd been sitting with a wad of uncertainty and guilt in her gut. Because the compassionate, almost infuriatingly psychic asari said as parting advice: "If you really don't want people to go, you have to tell them".

Safe to say, that wasn't very helpful with her current situation.

Sure, she wanted Garrus to stay. That was the only personal, selfish thing she'd wanted in a long time. But how she could stop him? The galaxy was in danger, and he'd... Well, she said it before. Damn turian would make a great Spectre. He wanted to make things better, which was exactly what she was fighting for. How could she stop him just because she wanted to stay that "dynamic duo"?

So, despite Liara's ominous and unhelpful advice, she looked back at Garrus and smiled like a friend. Because a friend was ready to support his aspirations wherever they took him and that's what he deserved.

Running a hand through her hair, she broke it out of the very loose and limp ponytail it was in. Anya just kept her gaze trained on his blue eyes, trying to memorize the pleasant way he was looking at her right now, with all his hopes and dreams ahead of him. She needed to remember that. "So how does it feel, being on your last mission on the Normandy?"

After Anya asked, Garrus started drumming his fingers against the table, this far off look in his eyes. "Surreal. When I first joined up with you, I thought I was crazy for trading C-Sec for an Alliance ship. I wanted to stop Saren, but I still didn't know much about humans. But now that I'm leaving..." He shook his head and downed his drink. "My world won't be the same without you- all of you."

"I know how you feel. I thought the Normandy never could feel like home without Anderson, but we made it our home again. I'm sure you'll fit in great with the Spectre program. Give me some tips they never gave me, will ya? I didn't exactly get the formal training."

He laughed, the sad kind that when it ended, it felt like an end to something greater. "Definitely. I can't wait to be able to teach you a thing or two."

"You already have. Needed some of those sniper lessons you gave me. Saved us from those damned geth turrets on The Citadel."

"You were a fine enough sniper already. Anyway, all the things you can do with a pistol terrify me."

"Yeah, but I was better because of you." Shepard sucked in a breath, knew she was getting a little too close to her own wayward feelings. "We're going to miss you, Garrus."

"Me, too." After a moment, he gave her a serious look and said, "Shepard, I-"

Anya reached across the table and touched his hand, shaking her head. She needed him to be sure and confident, because she wasn't. "Don't doubt yourself. It's about time you got out of my overinflated shadow. You're the best shot I know, the best soldier I know. You deserve more than that."

"I wasn't going to say that." Garrus turned his talons under her hand, held it like it was liable to break. Anya didn't know what that meant, but she didn't want him to let go. "I was going to say that being in your shadow has been an honor. And I loved every minute of it."

Feeling her whole heart collapse, turn into a concave hole in her chest, Anya pulled her hands away from his and held it in her lap. They started to shake; she wished they wouldn't. All that resolve she'd been proud of was crumbling into dust on her fingertips. "Don't say things like that when I have to say goodbye to you."

Garrus walked around the table and sat down in the chair next to her. It was like the air filled with lightning, and from it she could tell the slow, steady pace of his breathing. She'd been keeping up her composure the past 10 days, all she needed was to get through this simple scouting mission, send him off where he belonged, and-

But then he took her hand out from under the table and held it. "Everyone's been leaving on their own missions, and you still have Joker and Kaidan. I'm no different."

When he said that, her head jolted up and she was staring into his eyes. Anya wanted to always see his eyes. He was trying to mend her, she could tell, but she didn't want to be mended. She was a broken human and that was okay; she could live with it.

With each passing second, though, she wasn't sure she anymore if she was a broken human who could live without him. Anya tried to sound as in control as possible, and said, "Don't say that, Garrus. You know you've always been different." His eyes filled with this far off mix of concern and friendship and maybe even pity, but she didn't want to see it. She couldn't stand it anymore. "I didn't want anyone to go, but of course you're the hardest one to lose. I can't picture my world where you're not always interrupting it and reminding me to be human." Anya's mouth just kept going, and she couldn't stop it. She was leaning in close to him and it was like a drug; she was just as intoxicated as that first, fateful night. "Until that bar on Noveria with you, I think I stopped knowing if I was human at all. I can still be Commander Shepard alone, but until you I hadn't been Anya in years. I'm so afraid of losing who I am again. Garrus, I-"

And just as his forehead dipped to press against hers, and she was finally feeling some sort of strength in the out-of-control emotions she'd been spewing, the ship quaked and threw her and Garrus out of their chairs.

And then Joker was yelling over the intercom that they were under attack, the room shook, electronics exploded, and everything was on fire.

Garrus helped pull her up and the moment was gone; they were soldiers again, and they had a ship to save.

By instinct alone, she and Garrus put on their helmets and started ushering people to the escape pods. Shepard was talking to Joker and trying to assess the damage. Apparently it was an unknown vessel, shooting a giant, ship-destroying laser. They'd been hit once, and all they needed was one more hit to have the Normandy collapse in on them. Joker was doing everything he could at the helm to keep them running.

But Shepard was acutely aware this could finally be it; they could all die.

And looking at Garrus, brave and full of promise, she couldn't fucking bear it.

Walking over to him as he got the last nearby crewman onto the ship, a sleepy and frazzled Dr. Chakwas, she grabbed his suit. "Do one more quick look for other survivors, and then you get my people out of here."

"Shepard, I'm not leaving you."

Kaidan suddenly was next to them, holding a wounded helmsman. "We've gotten a lot of people out, but there's one problem: Joker's refusing to leave the ship."

"Idiot." Anya cursed and made up her mind. "Alenko, Vakarian, get these people out. I'll find Joker and send anyone else I might find toward escape pods."

As she tried to pull away, Garrus grabbed her arm. He held on like he was holding her life in her hands, but right now she didn't have time for the sentimentality of that. "And what about you? I won't let you go alone."

Her heart was racing and there was this foreign, deep-seeded, ominous fear taking hold of her. But she grabbed the edge of his helmet, pulled it forward to touch hers, and then shoved his hand off her. No matter how much she wanted to keep that voice by her side, now was not the time to ask him to stay.

To make sure he stayed alive, she had to let him go. "I'll find you. Now, that was an order. Go."

Though Garrus stood there for a moment, watching her run off towards the stairs, she eventually saw him grab two more crew members, toss them into the shuttle and, just as she was losing sight of them, hit eject.

If this really was the end, at least she'd made sure he made it out.

Now, she had a shitty younger cousin of a pilot to save.

When she made it to the command deck, the central hub was completely spaced. The ceiling hull was ripped open and all that was left was the floor walking up to the cockpit. Good thing she already had her helmet on. Making sure her boots were good to \keep her attached to the dck, she started walking across the open space.

In the darkness, she could see loose debris and pieces of her Normandy flying away. Worse, she could even see a few people. Anya kept down the vomit, watching Pressley's body float away.

Old man was a difficult officer, but he was a good one. And despite his prejudices, he was willing to learn to be better.

And now he was gone.

Walking forward to Joker, she had to assume he was there. She couldn't stand the thought of losing her ship, her crew, and him, too. Not after all they'd been through.

Finally, after what felt like eons, she stepped into the air pocket of what was left of the helm. Joker was there, slapping so many buttons and yelling into the comms like a madman. Anya couldn't even get her head straight enough to identify what he was saying.

Instead, she just grabbed a spare helmet and slapped it on his head. He said, "I'm not leaving her!"

Grabbing his shoulder and pulling him from the pilot's seat, she didn't care if she broke a bone. She wasn't losing him like this. "We're going. Now."

But just as she turned towards the last escape hatch, to the right of Joker's seat, she felt the ship beneath them crack. No. Dragging him along, she ran towards the door and opened it, throwing his ass in.

And before he could yell more, or she could get in, the ship broke underneath her. Anya knew her choices here: eject the pod and save Joker, or kill them both trying to get herself in.

So, watching the anguish in her friend's eyes, she slammed her fist on the eject button. And after his pod flew off and away from the ship, the Normandy buckled and shattered, a broken vessel that she used to call home.

Another jolt, and Shepard was thrown from the panel, hurtling through space. She could see them, though, the pods flying out in the other direction. At least a good chunk of her crew should make it, including Joker, Kaidan, Chakwas, and Garrus.

That was what mattered.

Anya could feel tears running down her face, with that final piece of solace. Finally her time came, where she was the one left behind and everyone else survived. She'd made it out alive so many missions, it was about time it happened. And if it meant they all lived, that was okay. It had to be okay. They could save the galaxy without her.

It would've been a slow death, if just then her helmet hadn't knocked into some heavy duty debris. She could suddenly feel the oxygen in her suit rushing out at a breakneck pace. Her hands were grasping, trying to cover the hole, even though it didn't matter. Her chest felt like it was getting vacuum suctioned out and the faster the air went, the faster her thoughts did, too.

At least she saved Joker. At least she told Garrus how she felt. At least she inspired all of them to save the galaxy, to become better heroes than she could ever be. At least...

And then everything faded to black.

///

This is the end of Part 1! (AKA Mass Effect 1). We will take a little detour for a few chapters into INTERMISSION: Archangel, but then we'll be back with part 2 shortly :)

Thanks so much for reading, and double thanks to my lovely patrons:

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Amy Connolly

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[aelinbitch-archive]

You've probably said this before but what's your favorite aspect of the TOG series? I've only read like ten pages of the first book lol

aaaaa thank u for asking!! this sort of leads into something i’ve been meaning to talk about for a while so i hope you’re prepared for An Essay No One Wanted By Me. anyway this is a two-part answer, read below:

1. Aelin. Celaena. The main bitch, whatever you wanna call her lol. Without her I probably wouldn’t have cared about the series at all and wouldn’t currently be trapped in ToG tumblr hell reluctantly stanning a racist and homophobic series, but unfortunately when I was like twelve years old or whatever and read the first book I literally imprinted on Celaena like a baby duckling. To the extent that she became, like, the default avatar for all my maladaptive daydreaming and If I Don’t Project On Her At All Times I Will Die. It’s not like she’s the only thing I like about the series (I loooove a lot of the other characters, especially the gals, and the writing can be really great and engaging and cinematic) but Aelin has always been the supermassive black hole at the center of it all for me. I wouldn’t know how to even begin untangling her character from my psyche at this point. It’s honestly a little disturbing. Anyway. 

2. Part two is a quality of the series that I feel was unprecedented in its strength in the first five books of the series (ToG-QoS plus the prequel novellas) and really really disappointingly weak in the last two books (EoS-KoA). Like I said above, Aelin has always been my main interest in tog so I read and enjoyed the last two anyway, but I definitely felt the loss of this - “this” being the detail and attention paid to all different types of relationships between characters, and how rich and unpredictable those relationships were as a result. 

That sounds like kind of a broad, vague thing, but what I mean is that (in my opinion) rarely are romances and friendships and rivalries explored with such nuance, complexity, drama, and realism in most YA as they are in ToG. I remember reading Cassandra Clare’s books (lmao.) as a pre teen and loving those as well, but totally being able to predict who was going to end up with who, and finding the character dynamics to be pretty cut and dry. 

In ToG that’s not the case at all. Like, you’ve got Celaena and Sam, a really complex example of enemies to lovers to….. Tragically Dead Boyfriend Whose Demise Fuels My Guilt and Self-Hatred For Seven More Books, Lysandra and Aelin, two girls pitted against each other by their abuser who team up a year later to unlearn their internalized misogyny and kill him, and Aelin and Chaol, who… how do I even describe the ups and downs (and downs. and more downs) of their relationship. 

And that’s just three pairs! Pull the names of two characters out of a hat and I can almost guarantee essays worth of material could be written about them. Arobynn and Aelin? Aelin and Nehemia? Chaol and Dorian, as much as I hate both of them and feel that their relationship as been widely mischaracterized? All fascinating!!! No two people in those first few books are just friends, or just lovers, or just enemies. It’s always more complex, there’s always a history or tension or competing agendas or viewpoints that Fuck Shit Up. 

And benefit of that is twofold: one, everything that happens between the characters just…. lands so well. The betrayals and triumphs and losses and victories of The Assassin’s Blade and Crown of Midnight and Queen of Shadows (especially TAB) are fucking heart-stopping. It’s great character-driven entertainment!! Gripping and engaging and vivid to the point of being painful. 

And two, there’s no way to predict where a relationship is going to go. Aelin and Lysandra teaming up in QoS instead of returning to their rivalry? Who would have thought! Ansel and Celaena’s summer fling (they were in love. fight me.) ending like That? Holy fuck. Nesryn and Chaol breaking up in ToD? Oh shit! I fell for it again! Rowan and Aelin ending up together after everyone swore they were brotp in HoF? Hell yeah! Chaolaena seeming like endgame and then ending forever, with Chaol and Aelin realizing that the rift between them that began in CoM was something that would never sufficiently heal? Unprecedented. Fucking badass for a YA book to curve everyone like that. Tween me was shook out of her mind. 

(Important to note, though, that the downside of this style was that SJM couldn’t tell where ~unpredictable relationships and characters~ ended and fridging began, and as a result, not one but two woc were killed off to make white characters sad and it sucked beyond belief). 

Aaaaaand then QoS, the peak of literature, turned into EoS, and SJM just… gave up on all of that. I remember the first time Dorian and Manon met, and I was like oh, okay. So they’re going to end up together. And I was right. I remember that on this site, before EoS came out, before Lorcan and Elide ever fucking MET, people predicted the existence of Elorcan!! And they were right!! Like how fucking boring? Everyone is just paired off into completely predictable heterosexual ships and those are now the only relationships we get to read about (with a few exceptions, like Aelin/Aedion, Aelin/Fenrys, etc.). 

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: my least favorite thing about Manorian is not that I find the relationship to be shitty (although I do, I really do). It’s that Dorian is suddenly the only character Manon gets to interact with in any meaningful way. 

Like, are you kidding?! I want to read about Manon and Elide, Manon and Asterin, Rowan and Lorcan, Aelin and Lysandra, Aelin and Nesyrn, even if it’s not romantically (although some of them, like Manon and Elide, absolutely should have been, and the fact that not only was that ship very thoroughly sunk, but also they didn’t even get to TALK after QoS, felt like a real slap in the face to gay fans, but I digress), because those pairings previously had hella complexity and drama. But we don’t get to. 

And this trend that’s so painfully present in the last two books Sucks for two reasons: one, every relationship that isn’t romantic (which were previously some of the most interesting ones) is abandoned so that more time can be made for The Hets™ and two, the relationships that are romantic, now the only ones left, are totally fucking boring and predictable!! If two characters are interacting at any point (if one is male and the other is female, of course) then you know for a fact that they’re not only love interests, but endgame. 

And that makes me not care even when there is drama between them. Elide giving Lorcan the cold-shoulder for three hundred pages, and Manon and Dorian arguing, and Aedion being cruel to Lysandra weren’t compelling narratives to me like they should have been, because the whole time I was just thinking “but it doesn’t matter. I know it’s still endgame. There are no stakes here whatsoever; it’s a done deal.” Whereas Chaol and Celaena’s devestating breakup in CoM felt like (and was) suuuuper Real. An all-in bet on the wrong person. Crazy shit. 

And not that I think two characters should never have a happy ending together (I really like rowaelin and nestaq and I would have loved malide!) but imagine how much cooler and subversive and entertaining it would have been if Elorcan, which seemed soooo totally cute and endgamey and borderline like fanfiction throughout all of EoS just ended forever right there and then on the beach, with Elide turning to Lorcan and saying “I hope you spend the rest of your miserable, immortal life suffering. I hope you spend it alone. I hope you live with regret and guilt in your heart and never find a way to endure it” - and BAM. She never speaks to him again. He’s dead to her. 

I mean, talk about shock value! (See, Sarah, you can have shock value without killing of a person of color to make a white character sad 🙃). And I totally get that relational twists like that alienate fans more than just going the expected route and having them kiss and make-up does (I mean, the ending of Chaolaena in QoS certainly did, Jesus Christ) but I, Bella aelinbitch, personally live for that shit, and isn’t it only fair that all media cater directly and specifically to me? Lmao. But seriously, I do think it’s objectively more interesting, and that it keeps readers on their toes (I was on my ASS in EoS and KoA. Like. I was flat on my back sinking into the Earth). 

And there are still sort of… glimmers of the old way she wrote in the first few books, but it just feels like a tease rather than something that’s really explored and indulged in the way it was before, and it just ends up being more frustrating (like what was the point of Manon and Dorian not getting married at the end of KoA if I would bet my life savings that in World of Tog it’ll be confirmed that they’re either married or still together) and sometimes downright problematic? Like to return to a previous example, I think all the drama between Aedion + Lysandra was a result of Sarah’s previous (good) instincts to shake stuff up and complicate the character dynamics, but it backfires because when they end up together, it’s not ever… worked out? Or addressed? If you create really intense drama between two people, then that needs to show up in their relationship, no matter how happy they end up together. It doesn’t just disappear.

And despite the fact that her understanding of that concept (that shit between two people doesn’t just disappear like magic) is one of my absolute favorite things about the first few books, Sarah even went as far as to use the last two books to retcon some of the original complexity away, which makes me want to rip out my hair!! Like Aelin at the end of KoA just going “Love you Chaol and Love you Dorian xoxoxoxoxox best friends forever!!!” instead of having, like, any type of mixed feelings about the way these boys treated her? I mean, come on! 100 pages earlier Chaol was openly saying she should die instead of Dorian! Why is everything just peachy-keen instead of fraught with tension!! (I know why. I know. It’s because she introduced way too many characters/POVs/storylines as the series went on and didn’t know what to do with them all besides sideline the nonromantic ones and pair off everyone else boy-girl boy-girl down the line). Or if it has to be peachy-keen, why is the peachy-keeness never critically examined as, perhaps, a repressive mechanism for Aelin to avoid dealing with painful truths from her past? Now that would be interesting. 

(My ideal World of ToG would be just a transcript of the characters’ therapy sessions where Aelin realizes that her insistence that “Chaol and Dorian Are Her Friends!” is actually a way to keep herself safe emotionally and that she has plenty of reasons to hate them, and Lysandra realizes she should divorce Aedion lmao).  

Anyway tldr: The variety, complexity, depth, and unpredictability of the relationships in Throne of Glass was simultaneously the most realistic (sometimes relationships of all kinds fall apart or veer off in unexpected directions and love is temporary and the boy you met in the first chapter isn’t actually your soulmate and it doesn’t mean he’s a villain) and the most gripping and dramatic (I would have been totally chill if maeve and erawan weren’t a thing and tog was just like a medieval soap opera, that’s how entertaining the character dynamics were) thing about the series, and to lose that in the last two books because of Heterosexuality (and introducing too many POVs and not knowing what to do with them all)…. kinda devastating. 

This ended up being waaaaaay more complaining than it was talking about what I loved, but the only reason it bothers me so much is because it used to be so good!!! So just imagine the inverse of all the frustration I just vomited into this ask and you’ll have a good idea of how much I loved the series when things weren’t this way.

[nanshe-of-nina]

People of the Caroline phase of the Hundred Years War as dril tweets

Edward III of England: im a marine & accomplished scholar. my sons were alchemized into helicopter fuel to serve their armed brothers. how dare u post penis to me.

Charles V de France: the Digimon Otis peace treaty will hence be frozen in piss and thrown onto the freeway where itll shatter into one million despicable pieces

Richard II of England: i rise; spreading my arms, exuding fluorescent spheres of energy, each representing an Unfollower, Cuasing me a great deal of pain,Screaming

Charles VI de France: how to convince my uncles to combine into one superuncle so that i only have to buy one christmas card? how to do it? how to ddo this? how

Edward the Black Prince: #worstfeeling dying of dehydration caused by diarrhea in a third world nation ravaged by warfare with no doctors #bestfeeling halo 4 odst

Joan of Kent: my big sons have made a mess of the garage again after being riled up by the good word of the Lord.

Lionel of Antwerp, 1st Duke of Clarence: someone please. ive bitten into a nasty apple and I don’t know how to spit things out of my mouth. ivr never spit before and i need help.

Louis Iᵉʳ, duc d’Anjou: me and the boys pooled together our total life savings of $1789.34 in a last ditch effort to rescue the failing quiznos brand from the brink

Marie de Blois: never brought this up due to Trolls, but my son is set to graduate from ITT tech next semester after 8 years of hard work and im very proud.

John of Gaunt, 1st Duke of Lancaster: im not cut out to be a content producer!! fuck thtis!! i want to go back to just looking at everyone else’s content and nodding if its good

Constanza de Castilla: abusing my vile neighbors by putting leaflets around which state that i am now to be referred to as “Daddy’s Golden Goose”.

Jehan, duc de Berry: ACCOUNTANT: I Just don’t know how you can justify donating $700 to “Chips Ahoy” ME: i hope your car flips & becomes your fucking firey grave

Edmund of Langley, 1st Duke of York: damn it to piss. my wife replaced all of my anti-wife reading materials with Pro-Wife bullshit

Isabel de Castilla: I Just Want 2 Have Sex On This Site All The Time With Out Havin To Argue With Peopl And Deal With People Cryin And Shit #WiseWordsToLiveBy

Philippe II, duc de Bourgogne: the first step to becoming a Millionaire is to acquire one hundred dollars

Thomas of Woodstock, 1st Duke of Gloucester: when you do sutuff like... shoot my jaw clean off of my face with a sniper rifle, it mostly reflects poorly on your self

Henry Bolingbroke: DAD: your baby brothers missing, please put down the controller. help us find him ME: Did u read the news. Gaming is a legitinmate hobby now

Louis, duc d’Orléans: my uncle called me a Loser on television way before this guy’;s uncle did it @cnn @reuters @infowars @gameinformer

Edward of Norwich, 2nd Duke of York: my cousin was charged with arson(Bullshit) , and i was thinking we could all help out by drawing up some memes to display in his prison cell.

Pope Innocent VI: i am above choosing sides here. i hope they either become friends & cancel the match, or beat each other completely to death simultaneously ....

Isabelle de Valois, duchesse de Bourbon: my son has been combing his hair without permission. how do i cope with the pain.

John Chandos: i truly hate winning the infamous “Darwin Award” by getting bombarded with artillery fire in the Super K-Mart parking lot

Bertrand du Guesclin: PEOPLE MAG: which pop culture icon are u going to Slaughter next... ME: I have set my sights on “The Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B.”

William of Wykeham: im sorry but, when you people reply to my posts with things like “Fuck you” and “Fuck your Account” it makes me look like a real dumb ass.

Robert Knolles: spend a lot of time thinking about how sometimes even war criminals can be heroes sometimes... Dont like it? Click the unfollow buttobn

Jehan III de Grailly: JUDGE: i'll commute 10 yrs from ur sentence if you kiss my gavel ME: no. i will do the time i deserve and thats the truth and also nuff said

Arnaud de Cervole: i spend lots of time thinking about how many of my depraved, miserable followers would murder me if they could get away with it #SocialMedia.

Owen Lawgoch: oh nothin, i was just buying some ear medication for my sick uncle... *LOWERS SHADES TO LOOK YOU DEAD IN THE EYE* who's a Model by the way,

Seguin de Badefol: id like to report a hacker. he offered me 1000000 to show my dick and didnt cough up the dough when i delivered the goods. i got hacked

Louis II, comte de Flandre: I will be your Father. I will take you as my Son and teach you the ways of online. We will hold hands as our follower count reaches infinity.

Gaston III, comte de Foix: my disrespectful teen son somehow got hold of a gluten product and now he wants to become a cat girl

Charles II de Navarre: everyone on this site thinks they’re hard core but i bet if they took poison to weaken their bodies i would win fights against them handily

Jehan II, comte d’Armagnac: as a small business owner i think its bulshit that i have to give 30% of my income to Spain just because obama lost a swordfight to some Fag.

Jehan Froissart: im rwriting a script about a smart and handsome army man cop who murders civilians but wants to stop murdering civilians because hes in love.

Arnaud Amanieu, seigneur d’Albret: im good old southern boy and we dont cotton to bollocks .

John Minsterworth: its me again, from the website. admit that the berenstain bears are for adults or i will strategically headbutt your father to death.

Jehan IV, duc de Bretagne: my trolls & detractors all have gross mental issues. they love drama and are all jealous of my precious army man blood #truth #SorryNotSorry.

Peter de la Mare: come. I SHall lead the charge against corrupt Game developers, (Falls face forward ansd a variety of ass medicines spill out of my clothing).

Enrique de Trastámara: i am only here to field questions regarding my presidential bid. i will not discuss my ongoing project, tentatively titled “Aids Mario.”

Pedro I de Castilla: have you ever wanted to click X on a bastard

Tiphaine Raguenel: THE SUN THE MOON AND THE STARS ARE ALL TOO SMUG FOR MY LIKING

Olivier V de Clisson: unloading an entire belt of ammo at me with a minigun or some such device will now get you “Blocked”

Louis II, duc de Bourbon: may god help you if you trip your feet against my handsome bulk while i am sitting on the floor looking at Depression things on my tablet pc.

Jehan de Vienne: for every year that He is not featured in Forbes Magazine as the worlds richest man... GOD will sink one of our battle ships

Louis de Sancerre: i dress as a medieval knight and pummel my metal body with cymbals to get all 59 of my pit dogs riled up before i fling lawn chairs at them

John Hastings, 2nd Earl of Pembroke: my favorite feature of this site is absolutely no consequences for my opinions sucking ffucking ass and me being 100% wrong about everything

Pierre de Craon: the facts are thuis: i accidentally did benghazi while trying to steal nfl broadcasts and im sorry about it. this is a stressful year for me.

Alice Perrers: (sniffing a crumpled up one dollar bill i found on the floor of a dog kennel) ah.. thats greenbacks baby

Ambrosio Boccanegra: somebody please Bribe me

[classicdaisycalico]

🔥🔥🔥

Send me a “ 🔥 “ for an unpopular opinion.

An opinion about anything?

Anything at all?

Okay. Here we go. I’m just gonna go and voice all my opinions on the Mario series that I have.

I genuinely like Super Mario Sunshine as a game. We also should have seen Isle Delfino in Super Mario Odyssey. That map with Isle Delfino on it was such a fucking tease and I’m upset.

All Daisies are beautiful. Classic, Modern, white, POC, any Daisy. All Daisies are beautiful.

Memoryman3 and his nasty foot fetish can go suck my ass. He makes every single sane Daisy fan look bad and he doesn’t speak for me or anyone else I’m friends with whose favorite character in the Mario series is Daisy.

All the Mario ladies are beautiful and anyone who pits them against one another can go stick it because the 3 royals are canonically friends and genuinely wonderful.

Additionally, every canonically trans character (Birdo, Vivian) is beautiful and valid.

Every Mario Party game after Mario Party 8 has genuinely stunk (this is in the main line of Mario Party games, btw). Mario Party 3 is my favorite out of the 10. It has just the right amount of gimmicks while also staying true to the original without going completely crazy.

MARIO KART WII IS BEST MARIO KART OKAY FUCKING FIGHT ME.

I like Rosalina. I really do. But Nintendo shouldn’t be shoving her into the spotlight at the expense of other characters who need and deserve just as much attention. I don’t care if Nintendo wants her to catch up on however many games everyone else has been in. We don’t need an influx of Space Mom because she’s gonna burn out as a character very quickly if Nintendo keeps doing this.

*Slams fist on table* @Nintendo BRING BACK SARASALAND YA COWARDS. Also maybe put lesser characters in the Paper-verse! And maybe the Mario and Luigi games too?? K thanks.

Mario! Does! Not! Hate! His! Brother! At! All! The same goes to Luigi. Those two are good brothers who love each other very much.

Peach is not a dumb blonde and her “cake” is most definitely not a euphemism for anything. She’s not an object. She is her own person with her own fucking identity and all these gross fanboys need to recognize that.

Mario is not a druggie. And he doesn’t only rescue Peach so he can smash. Mario is a good Italian gentleman who drinks Respect Women Juice every day. Along with Luigi.

GIVE WALUIGI MORE RECOGNITION OUTSIDE OF HIS STATUS AS A LIVING MEME

Also Fawful is canonically dead so people need to stop requesting that he show up in the next Mario Kart/Mario sports spinoff/Smash game. PLEASE STOP. E Gadd is a good second choice though. I just have concerns about him because he’s like 80 years old and shouldn’t be playing tennis alongside literal chain chomps lol

Speaking of sports spin-offs the GameCube games did them RIGHT (and some of the early Wii games). It’s equal parts fun gimmicks and fun characterization and it’s literally the perfect combo.

MatPat is a pretentious fuck who should have stuck to musical theatre. I probably would have liked him better as a person if he did.

And that’s it for the Mario series hahahahahahaha. Most of the Sonic series opinions I have are about ships but I’m sure everyone knows which ships I’m on board with so I’m just gonna leave it at that so I’m just gonna leave it at that.

Thank you~~~