#probably the longest ever

[solar-halos]

the seven husbands of evelyn hugo: the weird stuff

mk. this reminded me of the west side story discourse where someone said it was really disappointing that characters like anita really wanted to assimilate because it showed how they were putting whiteness on a pedestal. but can i tell you a secret?

i can’t think of anyone on my non-white side of the family that doesn’t put whiteness on a pedestal. the first thing my dad did when he came here was assimilate. when you’re told that anything other than whiteness is weird and strange and undesirable, you’re going to do everything in your power to distance yourself from that. obviously, my dad and the rest of his community is at fault for perpetuating that attitude—for actually believing that whiteness inherently has more value than their actual identity—but let’s not ignore the root of the problem: in the US, white people—especially wealthy white people—like you more of if you assimilate. that’s not to say that they’re gonna respect you, or even be fucking nice to you, but i think it’s very understandable why people like my dad or fictional characters like anita thought that assimilation was their only option to live the american dream. i know im not explaining this very well, because i have no idea what its like to move to another country and immediately get picked out as “other,” so this is just me saying what i’ve noticed from observing people in my family

with that being said, it absolutely makes sense why evelyn repressed her cuban heritage for so long. monique is a separate issue, because i think the author wrote her very poorly from the get-go (like, seriously? killing off her black parent but then keeping in the white patent is such a tired trope, but it might even be something she did subconsciously bc she’s obviously not going to be familiar with writing the dynamics of a biracial family other than the very basic blurbs of “everyone disapproved of my parents relationship” that was regurgitated throughout the entire story)

anyway. back to evelyn. it was really disappointing that her cuban identity was consistently only mentioned in passing throughout the entire story. i thought we were gonna be building up to something—anything—but all that happened is that evelyn moved to spain. which is another thing that’s so fucking crazy to me. dialects can be tricky, and the author certainly acknowledged that, but i have friends who grew up with mexican spanish being their first language that cannot understand different dialects from places like argentina and (you guessed it!) spain. and then saying “mexican spanish” and “argentinian spanish” is an oversimplication in itself, cos there’s plenty of dialects within that.

i don’t know. i guess what i’m trying to say is that, at first, in the 50s, it really makes sense why evelyn completely ignored that side of herself. i thought it was bc she couldn’t afford to think that way, but now it’s just obvious that the author had no idea how to develop that storyline bc she’s not cuban, she’s not hispanic, she’s just a white woman writing a cuban character. and, honestly? im not going to claim that i’ve exclusively written what i know, because ragging on her for writing a character she’s not exactly like would be so hypocritical of me. i write annie cresta as a woc all the fucking time, even though i’m white passing, so i’m not going to sit here and say that the author should only write people that look like her. but the stuff i include about annie that i’m not personally familiar with is either based on experiences i’ve witnessed or feelings im familiar with (like the feeling of not really fitting in to either side of my family, or even feeling like i “belong” too much to a certain side), so i think that maybe she should have tried to put more effort into that. i’m not sure how, because i know studying something doesn’t atomically mean you know have a personal connection to it, but i feel like it could have made evelyn’s experiences feel more organic. she kind of reminded me of rita hayworth, except, yk, rita hayworth was kinda just white mixed with white. but it was the 50s! anything that wasn’t all-american was somehow a threat, so maybe she could have gone down that route? like, yeah, rita was still white, but she still got a whole chunk of her identity erased. like im not sure what specific type of white the author is but maybe that would be more in her ballpark

also. i tried not to read other people’s thoughts on this bc i didn’t want it to heavily influence mine but i saw someone say that she catered completely to the male gaze with her relationship with celia. and as a queer woman, im gonna say i don’t think so. like, there was a weird moment where evelyn said that celia’s obsession with her tits mirrored all the straight men she’s been with before, but i took that as a 1950s-not-really-concerned-about-the-nuances-of-sexuality thing. but reading other people’s opinions i will admit that maybe that wasn’t the authors intent when writing that, so maybe it was just a happy coincidence that she wrote something like that in a very hostile time period so that she could just use the “but it was the 50s!!” excuse if someone started questioning it. also, someone said that the last thing on a woman’s mind when kissing another woman is how different they are from men, but i think we’re gonna need the older sapphics to weigh in on this. like, again: it was the 50s. evelyn was fucking scared. she had no idea what bisexuality was. and then she’s suddenly kissing a woman. she’s kissing a woman, even though she “should” be kissing a man (1950s rhetoric), and that’s scary and celia is so different than anyone (men) she’s kissed before, but it somehow works? like she’s softer and has a more feminine figure and is nothing like a man, but that doesn’t matter to evelyn bc she loves her anyway. that’s what i got from her immediately comparing celia’s figure/physique to don’s. she wasn’t necessarily comparing it to say which one was better; she was pointing out how, despite all those differences, the kiss still felt right anyway. it felt good anyway, even though everyone (aka the homophobes) said it shouldn’t

so i guess what im trying to say is that evelyn ignoring her heritage and making homophobic comments seemed more like a product of her time and internalized hatred that she needed to work through. for me, the problem arises when she doesn’t work through it because the author had no idea how to approach the issue. and im sorry maybe this is internalized queerphobia on my part, but i really didn’t have an issue with how evelyn and celia’s relationship was portrayed. like i mentioned in my first post, the stuff they said to each other was genuinely so romantic. i’m not saying the portrayal wasn’t flawed at all, because i could certainly tell that the author probably wasn’t queer while i was reading it, but i’d take this to “love, simon” any day. like i know that author is bi, so i did enjoy “leah on that off beat” in middle school, but her writing about gay men gave me the same vibe as the author of this book writing about sapphic lovers 😭😭 like it was cute i guess (from what i remember) but you could tell that this was uncharted territory for both of them

however, i do understand that a white woman writing poc into her stories is taking away platforms for woc women to write woc characters. people are always like “damned if you do, damned if you don’t” which i don’t think is true. like i said, writing annie cresta as someone who isn’t white passing even though im white passing myself is kinda the same thing as what this author is doing, but i think something that makes or breaks how u do this is writing about what u personally know, even if it’s just a little bit, so you have something to build off of. (i’m also adding a disclaimer here saying that even though i am writing what i know, that absolutely doesn’t mean there isn’t room for nuance. what im doing is flawed in itself, too. there’s no defending that, either. it’s just more authentic to me than writing about an all-white family, bc id have no idea where to start. but this isn’t even about me sorry im just trying to say that people acting like its impossible to write characters that aren’t exactly like you in a way that’s still authentic isn’t really true, it’s just harder)

as i was saying, the author is writing about what she knows, too, but since she’s just white, she’s not gonna know much unless she goes out of her way to try. i just don’t understand why she didn’t go down the rita hayworth route. it’s the approach i personally would have taken. because, even though i dont know what its like to be spanish—this author probably doesn’t, either—the experience of being Othered bc of very minor deviances of anglo saxon beauty is something i can relate to. i never say “my hair is too light” i always say “my nose is too big.” that’s not exclusively a nonwhite problem, and i think that’s where the author messed up. she shouldn’t *only* write what she knows, per se, but she should definitely be writing about things she’s familiar with. and i know im talking about myself way too much, but i just think it’s weird that even though im someone who isn’t technically only white, i still would feel more comfortable writing a person from more modern history that is (annie being in panem gave me a lot of leeway), so i don’t know why she felt comfortable writing a person that isn’t

uh oh. this post got very very long. but i guess what im trying to say is that evelyn’s struggle with her identity was less authentic as the story progressed, and that was solely because the author didn’t know how to make it feel organic, which is super unfortunate. also, new talking point: no fucking way would harry and evelyn be like “welp. the only way for us to have a bio baby is to raw dog it.” like WHAT? again i’m sapphic and i like men but if that were me we’d have to figure SOMETHING out, im not having actual sex with someone when i have a girl. like idk just the thought of putting the work in is nauseating to me, she literally just needed the sperm so harry could have jacked off or something. tbh i don’t rlly wanna think about this. maybe it’s the asexual in me

conclusion: if i’m having these thoughts, as someone who is kinda white, how much more severe is it for people who aren’t? like atp the author needs to just stop writing hispanic characters it’s like a theme for her and no one is ever fucking happy about it

[kelsh]

“You were a friend when we needed it, and we won’t forget that. Should you ever need it, you have family in Baldur’s Gate.” - Zevlor

[gotham-daydreams]

Not Here

[Yandere! Platonic! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of neglect, Mild Yandere Behavior, Batfam being hella stupid.]

(Not really proofread. The birds and bats seeing that y'know- maybe not paying attention to people and neglecting them isn't a good thing. Chaos ensues. More of a development thing. Might be a little ooc?)

Tags: @bigcandlesmolbrain

Chapter 2 of this post. Chapter 3 Pt. 1, Pt. 2. [Series Masterlist]

๑۩۞۩๑—————————————————————๑۩۞۩๑

Bruce liked to think he was a good father, for anything that was worth. Or at the very least, a decent one.

He wasn't perfect by any means, but he felt like he raised his children the best he could, and had made them into responsible and diligent adults. Dick was a great example of this, and even if Damian was still growing up, Bruce had hope that he'd turn out to be good as well. The hardships his current Robin had to face would pay off in the end, Bruce was almost too sure of that.

Those he decided to take under his wing had their flaws, yes, but even if he didn't say it out loud or point it out often. He did believe that they were good at what they do, or at least were on the right path to becoming good vigilantes. Bruce couldn't help but be proud and prideful of where his children and sidekicks were, and could only look forward to how they would continue to develop as time went on. Despite their feelings towards him, and his own faults, mistakes, paranoia, and so on. Along with how he felt about them, and their flaws — he couldn't help but respect the people those in his little mess of a family where becoming, and turning out to be.

Or maybe he was both overestimating and underestimating himself, and the true effects he had on those he decided to look after.

Since, for a few days now, he felt like something was... off.

The Manor seemed quieter these days, and even if he couldn't remember a time where it was particularly loud, the detail felt misplaced to him. Sure, he hasn't hosted a gala or party in a while, but that didn't feel like it was the reason why the silence suddenly bothered him.

Bruce tried to think of all possible reasons, a little surprised himself that this feeling of his was bothering him so much, but the more he thought about it the more confused he became. There didn't seem to be a particular reason for this... and yet, just as he was about to put this feeling aside, he heard it.

["I, um, I was just wondering..."]

["Oh, uhh, that's quite alright! Oh, one moment please... oh! Second chorus... T'was brilling, and the slithy toves, did gyre and gimble in the wade..."]

It sounded like some sort of... play? Bruce wasn't too sure, but still decided to check it out regardless, wondering why something like that was playing in the first place.

So, allowing the sounds of the play to guide him, he continued on.

["Why- why you're a cat!"]

The voices grew louder as Bruce drew closer, interest peaked as he tried to recall and see of he knew this play. The lines sounding familiar, now that he was really listening to them.

["A Cheshire Cat. All mimsy were the borogoves..."]

Once Bruce rounded the corner he saw a... familiar face on the screen.

A student play was being filmed, and the play itself was Alice in Wonderland.

Whereas Bruce didn't recognize the actor for Alice, he did recognize the actor for the Cheshire Cat, but couldn't quite put his finger on it...

Was... was that...?

"Y/n?" He whispered your name, voice barely above a whisper.

No, it couldn't be. You didn't participate in any plays, and surely if you did he would've known about it. Even then, that didn't explain why he was seeing this now. The play itself had to have been a recording, since you looked so young...

How long ago did this take place?

["Oh, wait! Don't go, please!"]

["Very well. Third chorus..."]

["Oh no, no, no... thank you, but- but I just wanted to ask you which way I ought to go."]

["Well, that depends on where you want to get to."]

["Oh, it really doesn't matter... as long as I g-"]

["Then it really doesn't matter which way you go! Ah-hmm.... and the momeraths outgrabe..."]

Bruce was staring so intensely at the screen that he hardly noticed how the lines and voices faded into the background. His focus centered on you, disbelief gnawing at the back of his head.

He had never seen you smile like that before, not during all the times he's seen you anyway. Even if those moments themselves were small and short from what he could remember, the smile you wore during your performance felt... new in a way. Like something he hadn't seen before — not on your face anyway. Though that wasn't the only thing that made Bruce feel weird as he watched the play.

It wasn't anything to do with your acting skills. They were fine for the most part — and honestly considering the age you probably were during the time of the play, they might've been above average, or even a little higher than that. Not even the girl who played Alice, who also did relatively well, was the source of this odd feeling.

It wasn't the costumes or the set up, or even the lighting, and how he could faintly see the silhouette of other actors and such just behind the curtain, because of the camera angle. No, it hardly had anything to do with anything like that, but, how should he put this...

... How come he didn't know about this? How come he wasn't aware of this play before? Let alone that they had a recording of it, and that you were even a part of it... but Bruce still felt bothered by this whole realization because, well.

Why didn't you tell him about this?

"Master Bruce?"

The sudden voice snapped Bruce out of whatever trance he was stuck in, as he whipped his head around to face the source of it.

He huffed softly, "Oh, hey Alfred." Bruce greeted calmly, acting as if the butler hadn't caught him off guard.

Alred couldn't help but raise a brow at that.

Almost in a silent, embarrassed way, Bruce glanced off to the side only to notice that the recording was still playing, and so he decided to ask about it. Since, if someone knew anything about anyone in this Manor, it would be Alfred.

"Say... what's this playing on the TV?"

"It's a recording of one of Master Y/n's plays, Master Bruce." Alfred answered simply, almost as if it was common knowledge. "Apologies if it's too loud, I decided to play it while cleaning. I can change it or turn it down if you'd like."

"No, no it's fine... but since when has Y/n acted in plays? I don't remember hearing about this." Bruce stated, confusion growing as another emotion began to swell in his chest. One he was all too familiar with, but ignored for the moment.

"Since middle school, if I recall correctly, but it was only while they were younger. Having only been in three school plays in total, I believe." Alfred moved closer to Bruce as he looked at the screen, eyes softening for a moment as he watched you move along the stage. You had grown up so much since then, and the stage fright you used to have felt like nothing more but a faint memory now.

You wouldn't believe how incredibly proud of you he is.

"It's a shame they didn't do any more afterwards, since it would've been nice to have a few more recordings of their performances, but I suppose that's what happens when you find a new passion." He looked back at Bruce. That previous softness in his gaze nowhere to be found.

There was a certain way how his eyes looked at the billionaire, as if expecting something. As if expecting this.

Alfred had higher hopes, but you had left for a reason. Even if he knew what that reason was, it was only now did he see it more clearly. Especially as he witnessed Bruce's face shift into one of shock and surprise.

"They've always told you, Master Bruce, but you're schedule has just always been too full." Alfred handed Bruce a piece of paper, and Bruce took it wordlessly, looking it over.

It was a flyer promoting a play — the Alice in Wonderland play that was still going in the background — with the dates and times listed below, along with some of the cast members. Your name stuck out like a sour thumb compared to the rest.

Bruce did remember seeing this before, but one thing did still confuse him as he looked back at Alfred.

"I'm pretty sure you gave this to me at the time, not Y/n."

"That I did, sir, but that was only because Master Y/n was having some trouble with catching you attention, because they had wanted to give you the flyer themself. So I offered to give it to you for them." Alfred replied truthfully, cleaning up a little more while he was at it, and leaving Bruce to his thoughts for the moment.

He didn't remember you trying to catch his attention... but if what Alfred says is true then that makes sense, even if it made Bruce feel bad in a way. The feeling growing a little more when he realized something Alfred had said.

"And this happened all three times?"

"You sound surprised, Master Bruce."

Bruce ran a hand through his hair, eyes pinned on the flyer as he pressed his pursed into a thin line. Countless thoughts floated around in his head, all of them jumbled up and messy as he just didn't know what to make of this. Missing one was probably fine, and maybe two at a push, but all three? How could he have missed every single one?

Sure he was busy, but he didn't think it was this bad. Did he just forget? How did he not notice such a thing had slipped right past him?

All Bruce could do was sigh. There was nothing he could do about it now, and even if there was a way to make it up to you, he didn't know where to start, or if that would change anything to begin with. Besides, he didn't even know how long it's been since these performances had happened.

...

Wait a minute-

"Alfred, how long ago was this?"

Alfred just looked at Bruce, brows just barely creased before he took a breath of his own.

"A few years ago, sir."

What?

At the look of disbelief on Bruce's face, Alfred could only stand and straighten himself out as he calmly asked, "How old do you think Master Y/n is, sir?"

"Oh, well, they're..."

... Bruce couldn't even think of an answer.

Obviously you had to be in highschool since it had been years since you've performed in a play, with the Alice in Wonderland play being one of them, but how old were you exactly? What year were you in? Were you a sophomore? Junior? Surely you weren't a freshman, but even then — what high school did you even go to? Bruce didn't think you were home schooled, or else he'd definitely notice that... or would he?

Oh no.

What if you already graduated? What if you already had gone and done something that not even Alfred knew about? Did you have a job? Where would you even work? Were you already in college? What college would you even go to? Did you manage to get a scholarship? What would be you major? Where would you be studying? Would you even stay in Gotham? Were you even old enough to be out on your own? Could you even drink yet? Could you drive? Did you own a car? Or even a motor bike? When was your birthday? Did it already pass? What's the month? The day? The year?

How old are you?

"I... I think I'm going to go and just check up on them." Bruce couldn't answer, and while he had a vauge idea. That's all it was, an idea. So he moved the subject along, and made his way up the stairs, leaving Alfred behind. Just watching as the world's greatest detective left the room, all because he couldn't figure out the age of one of his own kids. One he had chosen to take in and watch over like all the rest, and yet left behind all the same in the process.

Alfred could only sigh to himself as he paused the recording of the play. Ejecting the disc and putting it in its respective case, and placing it in its usual spot.

This was the only way, he decided. This was the only way.

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

Bruce didn't feel much better by the time he reached your room. It took him mistakenly stumbling into two guest rooms before he finally reached it, and honestly he felt more regret over that alone.

Most of this time he hardly remembered that the room before him now was even occupied, let alone that you had claimed it as yours. What didn't help was that it was only now that he remembered introducing this space as your own, and yet he had forgotten that small detail so quickly.

Regardless, Bruce just pushed that all to the side as he knocked on the door, taking in a breath.

"Y/n?" He called out, only to get no respose. So he tried knocking again, but he still got nothing.

Sure, he was getting a little confused, but just pushed that to the side with everything else, as he stared down at the door knob.

... Should he?

He had to talk with you eventually, especially considering what he just figured out and how little he actually knew about you. He needed to talk with you. He couldn't just let this slide, not with what he knew now. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

So, be tried the knob, and was kind of surprised that it was unlocked. Though besides that little strange detail, he gently pushed the door open, and took a peak inside.

Oh. You weren't even here...

Bruce didn't know how to feel about that.

Regardless of that, however, he opened up the door a little wider, and stepped inside. What he saw only made him more confused, but also feel so much worse when he looked all over the room. How could this be...?

Various things were on your desk, shelves, and hung on the walls. Your room looked surprisingly clean, but honestly Bruce doesn't know what he was expecting. After all, he didn't even know your exact age or hardly anything about you, and even then — by the looks of things, he had missed out on so much more than he originally thought.

Trophies, awards, medals, and certificates were littered about your room. The very sight of them made the paper in Bruce's hands feel so much heavier, and yet he still held onto it as he further inspected the awards, and few pictures hung on your walls.

Every color was here, from bronze to silver to gold, and at some point it seemed you were able to get a consistent amount of silvers and gold. The awards themselves were from various events and activities that barely corresponded with each other. From fencing to swimming, and dance to pottery. From track and field to literacy, and gymnastics to cooking.

It was like you had tried to do so much of everything, and were trying to collect all of these awards from all of these different activities, rather than earn them because you deserved it for all your hard work and dedication to do that particular activity, but Bruce just couldn't understand why. Why go through all of the effort just to move on to the next thing? It... didn't make sense.

Right next to you black belt for martial arts, you had hung up the few medals you had gotten from track, and right below that were some awards you had for gymnastics. Beside your soccer trophies you had some kind of art award, and beside that was more awards and things you had received from playing and participating in other sports and activities. Bruce had no idea you were even into some of these things, but just from looking at your room, he could tell you weren't all that into or interested in some of the activities you did. Seeing as some activities and such had more awards when compared to others, but one thing in particular seemed to really catch your interest.

Music.

Not only did you have a whole wall and section of your room dedicated to it, but it felt more organized, and the placement of awards and such seemed more thought out in a way.

Countless awards littered the wall, and from the placement alone he knew you were proud of them. The pictures hung on the wall showed you shaking someone's hand as you either held up an award or album cover. You smiled, and Bruce could see how genuine it was as he felt like he could feel your happiness radiate off the photo itself. The people you were shaking hands with looked pretty happy themselves, and Bruce was a little surprised that he recognized them, but that made him feel more conflicted.

The people in those photos with you, were famous, and you had gotten those opportunities to meet them and shake their hand all by yourself.

All of these awards — they were only the finishing products of what you had spent all of your time doing. They were only small glimpses into the person you truly were, and as Bruce looked at the records you had hung on the wall, he could feel his own regret spilling out of his bleeding heart.

He wish he was there with you.

He wish that he had been there to see you even get half of these rewards that you undoubtedly deserved. He wish he got to hear the music you played, and what kind of songs you wrote. He wish he had been there to see you go on, and work your way up, with him being there as your support, and yet...

He had missed everything.

From the plays, to the matches you had, to the games you played in and competitions you participated in, and how could he forget your performances that even earned you such big, important awards. Awards that probably meant so much to you, because of how far it showed you had grown.

Bruce missed it all. Every little thing.

... He had to find you.

No if's or but's this time. No more excuses. He had to find you. Bruce needed to.

So he did a more thorough search of your room. Finally placing the flyer down on your desk as he looked around. He checked your closet, your bed, even under the picture frames, and moved some of the awards around, in order to better check and search for anything. Any hint that could point to where you had gone, and or where you might be. Any clue, any thing that could tell him about you.

He even made sure to take a mental note of the people in the photos, just in case he had to reach out to them and ask if they knew where you were by some off chance. Though that was only if Bruce was convinced that you weren't even in the Manor, and getting some extra information on you never hurt anyway. Seeing as he had a lot of catching up to do.

As he searched, he ran into various things. From equipment, art pieces — most of which were unfinished — and old notes, to other random items. Like an airsoft gun, some glass beakers, various ties, a pair of shades, a glasses frame, and a sewing kit next to a first-aid kit? Bruce didn't want to think about how the first-aid kit both looked used, and was empty.

Bruce even stumbled upon a fancy looking tuxedo he didn't remember buying you at all, but a small tag caught his eye and-

Oh, it was a gift from someone else, and with the note you left behind the tag — most likely with the intention of giving the tuxedo back — it was safe to assume that you and this person knew each other quite well...

Bruce just put the tux back. He would've gotten you a better one anyway if you had just asked, or if he even knew you needed one in the first place. Though regardless of that, he kept looking.

Eventually, he looked under your bed, and found a single box under there. Undisturbed... sitting innocently in the darkness.

Bruce didn't waste much time as he reached out and grabbed it, and placed it on your bed. There was a thin layer of dust on top of it, which Bruce found a little strange but kept in mind as he opened the box and looked inside. There, he saw a variety of notebooks and papers, and from the looks of things, the items in here had been collecting a bit of dust too...

When was the last time you touched these?

It seemed a little strange that these were tucked away from everything else, and clearly you didn't want other people going through it or even seeing them since you kept it so out of view. Were they diaries? Bruce would rather learn anything personal about you from yourself, he didn't want to go through your things like this, but considering the situation...

He sighed, and just picked up a random notebook. If this could help him find you, then so be it. He didn't want to do this but he couldn't leave you alone either. Not again.

Yet, he was so focused on looking through your things that he didn't even realize that someone had passed by, and noticed the odd room Bruce was in. A room that they themselves haven't seen before.

"Woah, what's this place? An old childhood room or something?" Dick asked as he invited himself into the room, mindlessly looking around, not really paying attention to anything in particular as he waltzed around.

"It's Y/n's room." Bruce stated bluntly, still looking over the dusty notebooks in the box. Some simply labeled 'Notes' or 'Practice', while one in particular was called 'Ideas/List & Progress' with little drawn sparkles around it. Another two weren't labeled with titles or words, and instead with small music notes doodled onto the cover in your favorite color. Though Bruce didn't know the color was your favorite.

Nevertheless, Bruce decided to look through one of the notebooks with music notes on it, completely missing how Dick had froze, and turned to look at him as if he was crazy.

"What? You've got to be kidding, right?" Bruce just gestured to one of the records on the wall, flipping through the notebook in his hand as he read through it quickly but carefully.

Dick, still not entirely convinced and honestly just really confused, looked at one of the records Bruce had gestured towards, and felt like he had just gotten ran over by a truck with how hard reality hit him. There your name was, signed and everything, with a well-known producer listened as well.

His eyes even darted to the other records, only to find the same thing, and for just one final check, he looked at one of the awards on the wall.

Your name was engraved on it.

"Holy-" He covered his mouth, more than shocked as he looked around the room again, hand falling from his face, "but that means-" Now Dick was paying more attention to the room, moving from one thing to another as he looked over everything now.

"How did they- there's no way they did all of this? And- what. They even did gymnastics?!" To say that Dick was in absolute disbelief and shock was an understatement. Yet he hardly had any time to recover or process anything as another person popped into the room, albeit only temporarily.

"I'm afraid it is quite possible, Master Dick." Alfred spoke up, catching the attention of the oldest sibling as he moved into the room, and set a stack of papers on your desk, right next to the flyer Bruce had set down.

Confused and curious, Dick looked at the stack once Alfred had pulled away from it, and picked up the first paper.

It was another flyer, but this time for some kind of solo event or concert you'd be doing. The date written down was a few days ago... a week or so having already passed since then, but how could this be?

Dick hesitated, but took another one as he looked it over. Again, it was for some kind of concert or performance, but the date and time was further away. Three weeks to a month having passed since, but how did they not notice? Didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell them?

"This doesn't make any sense... why didn't Y/n tell us about any of these things?" He asked, mostly to himself as he continued to look through the various flyers.

"Why don't you tell me, Master Dick?" Alfred quipped, looking at Dick in a knowing way before stepping out of the room, "Now, I'll be heading off, but I do trust that both of you make the right choice this time around." With that, he simply left. Leaving Dick confused but feeling worse at the same time as he looked back at the flyers, mind racing until he spotted something.

Carfully, Dick pulled out another flyer out of the pile as he placed the others to the side. He recognized this one, but where had he seen it before? Was it...

... Oh god.

Dick whipped out his phone and checked his messages. He had to scroll down a bit, but he quickly found your contact and tapped on it. He flipped through your messages, hundreds upon thousands of which he never responded to, and even if that alone made he feel bad. When he found what he was looking for, he felt even worse.

He found a message of you sending him a photo of the flyer, and said how you hoped you'd see him there. The message itself had been sent almost a year ago, and as he looked back at the flyer, he didn't know how to feel. Yet he kept looking, especially as he spotted another familiar poster.

Some of them he was able to connect back to another message you had sent, and the further back he went the more he responded... but it wasn't much, and he seemed to leave you on read more times than not. He had made an effort, but clearly it wasn't enough.

Dick couldn't imagine how that must've felt for you, and he almost didn't want to. Yet he still continued to search through the flyers, and came across one he had an odd memory of. He did remember seeing a text for it, but also remembered hearing about it somehow? He wasn't too sure, but just incase he did decide to look through his voicemail. He didn't know what he'd find, but he decided to just have a little look, even if he wasn't sure he'd even find anything.

So, he matched the date of the message and scrolled until he found it.

The voicemail innocently stared at him, and Dick couldn't help but hesitate before he tapped on it, and let it play. Heart already heavy as he stared down at the flyer. The kind of look someone gave when they already knew it was too late, and Dick didn't know what was worse. The fact that he basically missed out on your entire life at this point, or that he had nothing to say for it besides that he was sorry, and had just forgotten about these things one too many times.

["Hey, Dick! I, um, I hope everything is going well and that patrol hasn't been too bad." Your voice wavered as you spoke. You were clearly nervous but you tried to push on anyway, and cleared your throat before you tried again.]

["How are you, though? I heard that you had a rough night the other day- and I know I'm not really into all this crime-fighting stuff like everyone else but... I just hope you're okay, y'know?" You chuckled nervously before you cleared your throat again, "An-anyway, um, yeah. I just- hope you're okay." The sound of a paper being fiddled with could be heard, and you took in a small breath.]

["So... I have this performance I'll be doing next Saturday- it's more of a competition really, since other musicians and stuff will be there too. It's at 7 o'clock, and I know you guys mostly work at night and everything- but if you could drop by or even just quickly come around at 8:15 that would be great! Since, um, that's when I'll be performing..."]

Dick looked at awards you hung on the wall as the voicemall continued to play. Based on the date of the performance he was able to find the award. You had gotten second place.

["It's um, it's a piece I wrote that's a tribute to your family- the Flying Graysons, that is, since we're allowed to play songs we wrote if they were approved beforehand, and it was! So, um, I really hope you don't mind. Your family is cool! Not that Bruce and everyone else isn't or anything- um, I'm going to stop talking about that before I say something stupid. But! I couldn't help but feel inspired so I, y'know-" you cleared your throat again. Clearly nervous.]

["Sorry for my rambling- but, yeah. You can pass by if you want or have the time, and it's right by that one place Bruce had that whole charity announcement on Monday. You can't miss it, there will be lights and all this other stuff- not to mention that it'll probably be loud considering things, but uh, yeah."]

["So if you think you can make it or pass by, it's at 7! Next Saturday! And if you can't make it by then, I play at 8:15! So, yeah. Remember that! If- if you want to. Hope to see you there! And if I don't, that's okay. I just hope you enjoy the piece if you hear it. Have a good night! Or-! Or day! Whenever you listen this- um, bye!"]

What? You had wrote a song for him? For his parents? For them?

Dick's heart swelled. He didn't even get to hear it either, he wasn't able to. He didn't have time, and he forgot, but that didn't make things better, did it?

You had gone through all of that effort, and not only made a song for him but even played it during a competition and got second place. Yet he couldn't even put a few minutes to the side to listen to it. He didn't.

Now Dick definitely felt awful.

However, he did notice that there was another voicemail left by you just a few minutes after the last one. So, he decided to play that too before his guilt and regret could fully settle in, as if it'd make him feel better somehow.

["8:45! IT'S 8:45! THAT'S WHEN I PLAY! NOT- Not 8:15, sorry! I mixed up the times- that's when a friend of mine plays, not me! Sorry! Uh, but yeah. I play at 8:45- stop by if you can! I hope to see you then! Buh-bye!"]

Okay, well, Dick officially felt worse now. So much worse.

You had all this character and personality, and yet he was never able to fully see it — to hear it like he has now. Not like this, not while he was paying attention.

Your voice was so much different than what he remembered, and despite your nerves you really tried to tell him because you hoped he'd be there. You tried to tell him in hopes he'd actually show up, and he never did. Even as he listened to your other voice messages, he could hear how his own actions, or lack thereof, were affecting you.

The messages grew shorter, more to the point, and while you did still sound enthusiastic — it's like he could hear the hope dying in your voice. The hope that'd he show up. That any effort would be made, but that didn't happen, and it didn't help that Dick was listening to some of the voicemails he was going through right now, for the first time.

He could only imagine the pain he caused you, and Bruce was thinking the same thing.

Bruce was still looking through your notebooks as Dick was regretting everything he had done to you in the past.

The notebook Bruce was reading now was one where you had written down majority of your more recent song ideas, along with things you wanted to try and melodies you were trying to mix together. It was mostly full of lyrics and small notes to yourself about certain things you wanted to keep in mind, and though there was a lot of things crossed out, Bruce couldn't help but be... charmed in a strange way.

How you talked to yourself was adorable, and seeing your excitement for your own performances and such through each word you wrote, just made Bruce feel so happy for you. He could almost picture your smile and how giddy you felt when you were writing some of these things down, or how focused you were when trying to figure out how to continue the chorus of a song you were making — or if there should even be lyrics to begin with. Along with how you wanted the song itself to sound, and what emotions you wanted to capture in it.

With each page turned it's like he could see the entire process you went through when it came to your song composition. Like he was almost there with you in the moment, watching you do your thing, and honestly? Just by that alone he couldn't help but grow... softer.

Bruce loved seeing how your mind worked when it came to music, and your thought process behind each and every little thing. He just... he felt like through each line and little note he read and looked over, he was falling in love. The kind of love that he couldn't quite describe, besides just the love only a father could feel when they really see their child for who they are for the first time. The kind of love Bruce hadn't felt in a long while, nor this intensely.

You were so creative and passionate, so driven to achieve your dream and do what you loved. You were just so... you, and there was just something about the way you expressed that in the notebook that felt charming. The deeper Bruce got into the notebook, the harder it was to not love you, and each time he saw one of your little notes, he could feel himself smiling. You were so precious, how could he not see that before?

Though, besides all of that, he did notice a small pattern.

Every performance you had, you mentioned in the notebook and would express your feelings about it, and every time you did — you'd write something beneath it. Just a small paragraph about certain hopes you had. Hopes that made Bruce's heart squeeze tighter.

It was you hoping that they'd get to see you perform, that they'd show up, and suddenly Bruce was reminded of why he was doing this in the first place. So, he started to flip through your book, shaking out of whatever trance he was in.

With each performance that passed, the little paragraph got shorter, smaller, simpler. Like a quiet prayer that was dying down, as the believer slowly lost their hope and faith. It even came to a point where only one sentence was written for a while.

"I hope I see one of them."

Bruce's heart broke a little more each and every time he saw it, but the page that really got to him was when the sentence was smudged, small wrinkles and creases were on the page, and you couldn’t even finish writing the sentence as the end of the 'e' in 'them' dragged out.

What didn't help was when he flipped a few more pages, and found the last performance you had written about. It was a few months ago, but the date didn't immediately catch Bruce's eye. No, no, no, what caught his attention at first was the change of that single sentence.

"I hope the audience enjoys it."

His heart shattered at that, smile fading as he took in a breath. A moment passed, with Bruce just stating at the writing. Wishing for the impossible, and to change things that had already been done. It was too late, but he somehow refused to believe that now.

Finally, he noticed the date and paused.

That... couldn't be right. You used to write in this notebook all the time from what he could tell, why did you stop? Did something happen that day?

If months really have passed... then that would explain all the dust on the box and contents within it, but still, it didn't make sense. Weren't you still here in the Manor? Bruce honestly couldn't think of why'd you would stop writing unless you somehow couldn't reach the notebook, but you couldn’t have left, right? Surely, above everything else, he would've notice that, right?

...

Bruce finally looked at Dick, seeing the oldest just staring at old flyers from various events and such you had participated in throughout your life. A life they never got to see.

"When was Y/n's last performance?" He asked bluntly, getting straight to the point.

Dick glanced at Bruce for a moment before looking back down at your desk. He moved some of the papers around before he found the most recent one and looked over to his father with a raised brow.

"About a week ago, why?"

Bruce looked back down at the notebook in his hand, eyes scanning over the date again before he closed it. Looking back at Dick, he asked another question.

"Have you seen Y/n around?"

Dick grew quiet at that, and after a moment he just sighed and shook his head.

"No, I can't say I have." It was only then did he catch what Bruce may have been thinking, "You don't think they-"

"It's a possibility. We can't be too sure just yet," Bruce just wanted to hold onto his hope that you were still here, and even if the chance was small he was willing to take it. He didn't want to believe that they had pushed you so far away that you would not only consider leaving, but actually went ahead and did it. He wanted to be doubtful, but he couldn't rule out anything. Not yet.

"Just keep looking, I'll go ask the others." Bruce stated as he placed the notebook back in the box and headed out the room.

"Keep looking? For what?! Other events we missed? More ways we ignored them? Things they did without us?!"

To say Dick's guilt was eating away at him would be an understatement. It was practically devouring him at this point, and he could just barely take it.

Bruce paused at the doorframe, sighing as he looked back at Dick, "Any hints or clues to where they could be. Favorite spots they might frequent, places where their lessons were held, people they know, anything." He left him with that, causing Dick to just run a stressed hand through his hair as he took a breath.

Worry and regret heavily weighed down on him, but all he could do was carry it for now. He'd make it up to you somehow. He would, and he'd finally get to hear that song one way or another.

As Dick started his search, so did Bruce.

Bruce did a general search around the house, looking for anyone he came across while also trying to look for you. He thought that if he was lucky, he'd run into you. Even if the possibility was small, it could still happen — or he hoped so anyway.

Just this once, Bruce really hoped for the best.

Though, he did end up running into someone, even if it wasn't who he was looking for.

"Woah, someone looks serious. What's got your bat panties in a twist?" Jason asked, amused, "Actually, wait, don't tell me. I don't c-"

"Have you seen Y/n?" Bruce cut Jason off, getting straight to the point.

The sudden question confused Jason as he gave Bruce a weird look, some of his amusment still remaining but it began to die down a bit.

"No... why?"

Bruce took a breath, fingers twitching, "Do you know where they could be?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Jason's own confusion began to take over, his amusement continuing to die down, "Seriously, did something happen? Why are you suddenly looking for them?"

Bruce took a moment, just looking at Jason before he sighed.

"When was the last time you saw them?"

"... A few days ago..." Jason glanced off to the side.

"Jason."

"Okay, okay! Fine. I don't fucking know! A few weeks ago? Maybe?!" He answered, getting agitated already. "I'm barely here enough as it is, how am I supposed to know where they are!"

Again, Bruce took in another breath, but there was something about it that Jason didn't like. Maybe he inhaled too sharply or deeply — Jason wasn't sure, but all he knew was that he wasn't going to like what Bruce was about to say.

"Dick hasn't seen them either."

"And that's supposed to be a surprise, how? He lives all the way in Bludhaven, of course he isn't going to see Y/n. 'Cause they live here-"

"I haven't seen them."

"..." That was a little more surprising, but just a little more. It still couldn’t mean anything... right?

"With all the shit you do, I would be surprised if you even saw them on a semi-regular basis." Jason crossed his arms, still not convinced — not entirely anyway. Yet Bruce could only exhale softly, the action bothering Jason even more.

"It's just a possibility. I'm trying to find them. Think you can help out?" Bruce clarified before asking. Additional help would definitely be great, especially because it meant that they could find you faster. He could find you faster.

"What makes you think I'm gonna do that?"

"Did know that Y/n wrote a song that's a tributed to you?"

"... What."

Bruce sighed, "You don't have to do it because I asked you to, or even because I want to find them. You can do it for yourself, Jason. But I'll leave that decision to you." Then, he just walked off to continue his search for you, and the other occupants of the Manor. Leaving Jason by himself, alone...

"That bitch-" Jason cursed under his breath as he walked off, deciding that he'll help look. Though only so he could ask you if Bruce was bullshiting him or not, and not for any other reason...

... Wait, you wrote songs? Like, actually?

Jason just shook his head, already upset enough as he shoved the thought to the side. When he found you he could ask, and how hard could that be? The Manor was only so big, and besides, you were just one person. He could probably find you before Bruce if he just looked in the right places, but the only thing now was finding those places...

Okay, so maybe he saw the problem, but still. This couldn't be too hard. You were the only one in the whole family who wasn't a vigilante, and so it was only about a matter of time.

Nevertheless, Jason began looking around as well, trying to figure out where he should look as he mindlessly checked every other room he came across. Where would you even go anyway? He'd probably check your room first but he figured that Bruce had already checked there, and it wasn't like Jason knew where your room even was. Though he just chalked that up to how infrequent his incredibly short visits were.

Still, he didn't even know where to start, and would rather avoid searching the entire Manor if he could. He tried to scratch his brain for anything but he just... had no idea.

Well, okay, he had one idea, but that was only because of one night. Even then he's still not sure it was you who he saw on the-

["Master Y/n? Are you alright?"]

Jason's thought process was cut off by a sudden voice. He immediately recognized it as Alfred's, and a realization hit him. Right! He should look for Alfred first, he'd know where you are. Alfred practically knew everything about everyone in the Manor, so he'd lnow something for sure.

So, he followed the sound until he stood in the doorway of one of the lounges. The television was on and playing some kind of recording, but Jason paid no mind to it.

Confused, Jason called out, "Alfred?"

When he didn't receive a response, he huffed as his eyes drifted to the television. What was playing, anyway?

You — a smaller, younger version of you — stood in a door way, looking out in the hall before turning back to the camera. Big, innocent eyes looking up. Looking at Jason.

You couldn't have been no older than eight or nine.

[You gave a little nod with a small hum, "I'm okay, Alfred. Just... waiting, like you said."]

A small, soft huff could be heard from the other end of the camera, and the camera moved to be placed down a counter of some kind. Which revealed Alfred to be the one having been recording everything so far.

["Yes, well. How about we do a little something while we wait, hm?" Alfred asked, moving a stool closer to the counter — moving the camera again to be placed on the kitchen isle this time.]

Ingredients and tools used for baking could be seem on the counter. The stool Alfred had place was next to where he was standing, and a good distance away from the stove.

[You looked at Alfred curiously, "What are we going to do?"]

["Oh, nothing too much, Master Y/n. But... I do require a bit of assistance baking this cake, that is if you'd like to help, of course." Alfred patted the top of the stool as he spoke, "Though you can always just watch, if you'd like."]

[You perked up at what Alfred said, climbing up onto the stool enthusiastically with a smile. "I wanna help!" You exclaimed, looking over the ingredients before looking back at Alfred, "But... what cake are we making?"]

[Alfred hummed, pretending to think before be looked back down at you, "Well, what kind of cake would you like, Master Y/n? It is your birthday after all."]

["Really?" When Alfred nodded, you gasped excitedly before suggesting your favorite flavor at the time.]

["Well then, let's get started, shall we?"]

From there, the rest of the recording was of you and Alfred baking. With Alfred helping you when he had to, and laughing lightly when you would inevitably make a mess.

Laughs and jokes were exchanged, and it was probably the happiest Jason has ever seen you... which made him feel weird in a way. He didn't like it, not one bit, and yet he continued to watch the old, wholesome memory play out before him.

Jason watched as you got a bit of flour on your nose and how Alfred wiped it off. He watched as while Alfred was deciding on the shape of the cake, you gathered all the different colors and types of sprinkles you could find, and was looking at a particular color of food coloring. How you nearly fell trying to grab the food coloring, and how Alfred just narrowly managed to catch you. How after that, Alfred visibly recovered from the near heart attack he had gotten from watching you fall, and just watched you add the food coloring to the frosting after you had thanked him for catching you, and apologized for falling.

... It got Jason thinking, if only a little bit.

He didn't know much about you, not really anyway. Even if his visits were few and far inbetween, not to mention incredibly short, someone would think that he'd catch onto a few things about you, or just generally have more interactions with you, but he didn't. All he really knew was that you knew how to play the violin really well, but that was assuming that who he saw that night really was you. Even if he doesn't know who else it'd be.

Jason still remembered that one occurrence despite how long it's been since then... but that was for a different time. He had to focus now, but he still couldn't help but watch the little version of you trying to frost the cake without being too messy, but failing miserably.

It did get him thinking about how many small moments he had missed with you, and just... how little time he had actually spent around you.

Obviously, you weren't a little kid anymore. After all, the last time he remembered seeing you — you were already a teenager. Though was that really a good thing? Jason did remember having some kind of interaction with you in the past... but it wasn't much of anything, and even then he probably forgot half of those moments. What definitely didn't help is that you both didn't have each other's phone numbers, and the only form of communication you had was seeing each other in person.

.... Okay, maybe this whole 'finding you' thing was definitely a lot harder than Jason had originally thought.

["... Are they going to come, Alfred?" You asked, sitting in front of the cake you and Alfred had just made together, looking up at the camera that Alfred was holding once again.]

[Alfred didn't respond right away, but did eventually say, "I'm afraid not, Master Y/n, but if you'd like we could wait a little longer."]

[You shook your head, looking at the cake before looking back at the camera, "It's okay. We can blow out the candles now, but..." you hesitated, looking down at the table, "could you... stay with me? Please?" You looked away, embrassed for asking but didn't take back what you said.]

[Again, a soft huff came from the other end of the camera. "Of course, Master Y/n."]

After a short happy birthday song, the camera was placed down on the table as Alfred cut the cake. It was only after Alfred had given both you and himself a slice did the footage cut out.

Nothing could describe the face you made when Alfred said that no one was coming. Just like how Jason couldn't even begin to describe what it made him feel.

Even when a new recording started, he could hardly pay attention to it as all he saw was your face staring up at the camera. Expression not necessarily sad or upset, but it was easily the most heartbreaking thing Jason had ever seen. A kid shouldn't have a face like that. You shouldn't have a face like that.

Jason was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even notice Cassandra trying to get his attention, nor did he feel her even pull on his sleeve. All he could think of was you, sitting at that table all by yourself. Alone.

He just turned the other way, practically stomping down the hall as he looked straight ahead, glaring.

He had to find you. Now.

Cass, on the other hand, was just confused. Watching as Jason stormed off before looking back at the recording that was playing on the television. What about it had made Jason sp upset? She didn't know, but she was a bit curious.

Bruce had already confronted her and asked her where you were, and of course she didn't know either. He did mention something about how Damian was trying to help a little, which was a surprise in itself, and how Jason might be trying to search for you too, and had asked her if she could do the same. She agreed, of course, just wanting to help out, but having run into Jason just now? That was... odd. Especially when he suddenly stormed off like that, but that wasn't her main focus right now. She still had to-

["Are you still trying to record this, Alfred?"]

Wait... was that your voice?

Cassandra turned back to the television, only to see the camera pointed towards the floor.

["Of course, Master Y/n. Just give me one moment, I almost have the camera set up."]

Oh, Alfred was there too? What was going on?

[Light laughter was heard before you spoke again, "Here, let me help you."]

The camera began to move, and as it paned up, there you were. A soft smile on your face, shining colored hues looking at the camera as you made a few more adjustments before stepping away.

Now, you definitely looked like a teenager or young adult. Voice more matured and settled, almost calm in a way.

["There. That should be good, what do you think?" You asked Alfred, tilting your head to the side a bit, most likely looking at the butler.]

["I have to agree, Master Y/n. Everything should be working properly." Alfred then came into frame, moving towards the counter as you moved around the kitchen isle to follow him. "Now, what is it that you wanted to make this year?"]

["Oh! Right, well..." and you told him, already grabbing a few necessarily ingredients from around the kitchen.]

It wasn't long before the two of you started baking again, but this time around you were clearly more experienced than your younger self — not that Cass was aware of that anyway. You both did your own parts, working exceedingly well together as the conversation between the two of you was nothing but natural.

Cass never saw you talk so naturally, or even knew you could bake, but there were a lot of things she didn't know about you.

She could see that in the footage, you were really relaxed and happy. Almost at ease as you skillfully moved about, as if knowing the necessary steps to make what you were hoping to bake by heart, and how you navigated the kitchen made it look as if you almost knew it as well as Alfred did. It was almost refreshing to see you just be so... in tune with your surroundings, and Cass almost wished she had been there to see you bake for herself. Though she could settle watching footage of you bake for now.

Even if she didn't know why you were even baking in the first place until Alfred mentioned something about a gift for your Birthday, and how that led you to talking about some of the things your friends had given you.

This was... your birthday? Just you and Alfred?

That didn't feel right... but then again, she didn't even know when your birthday was to begin with — and now that she thinks about, had you ever celebrated Christmas with everyone? As a whole family?

... She wasn't sure.

["Are you certain that you don't want to wait, Master Y/n? You never know, someone could show up this time." Alfred asked, looking at you with slight concern.]

[You only smiled, "I'm sure. Besides, even if any of them did come, we both know that it'd be on accident." You laughed lightly to yourself, looking down at the pastry both you and Alfred had made together. "I doubt they even know when my birthday is, but that's okay." You looked back at Alfred, your smile still happy but... there was something off with it.]

["I've told you before, haven't I? You're all the company I need in this house. I'm happy just spending my birthdays like this with you." You took a piece of the pastry and ripped it off before holding it in the air, as if doing a toast, and held it toward Alfred. "So, happy birthday to me?"]

[Alfred sighed softly, but could only smile as he took his own piece of the pastry, copying your actions as he held the piece toward you, "Happy birthday, Master Y/n."]

The footage cut right after, and suddenly Cass found herself in a similar position that Jason had been in just a few moments ago. Just staring at the screen, unsure what to do with this new information, the weight on her chest growing.

Had you really spent every birthday like that? If so... then why didn't you tell anyone? Or had you tried, only for nothing to come of it?

The thought alone hurt, strangely enough, and all Cass wanted to do was... well. She wasn't sure.

She wanted to do so many things, and yet she didn't know if anything would work. Or if anything she could do would fix... well, anything at all.

She wanted to try your baking and... and celebrate a birthday with you. Or maybe she just felt obligated to do so after having seen the recording, but a big part of her did mean it. Especially because she didn't want you to feel alone or anything ever again, not after seeing the extent it went to. Though perhaps there was some irony in that thought that Cass failed to realize.

Regardless, Cass found herself walking off too. Completely missing the figure who turned off the television, and unplugged the camera from it that held all of the footage both her and Jason were shown.

Cass was practically speed walking as she checked the library — remembering have seen glimpses of you in there before — while Jason checked the music room, only for both to turn up equally empty. Yet they kept looking. Everyone did.

Dick tried calling and texting you while trying to see if there was anywhere you could be outside of the Manor. Tim ended up helping as he ran into Dick, and was basically locating and tracking down all the places you've been to with the help of your notebooks and awards in your room. All the while listening to some very earlier pieces you've wrote and played on the mp3 player he found in your box.

Bruce was still looking all over the Manor for you, each minute that passed making him more paranoid and worried. What started as a small possibility was growing into a certainty and he did not enjoy that at all. Damian had decided to search for Alfred, since it seemed like the smartest choice if they wanted to end this quickly. Yet when he did find Alfred and asked him where you were, it turned out that Alfred didn't know where you were either.

While yes, he did know some of the teachers and coaches you've had in the past, he didn't know where you were at this exact moment. How could that be? It was simple, really.

Alfred hadn't seen you in a while either, and once that little piece of information spread around the family... what followed after could only be described as chaos.

The Manor was practically flipped upside down as Bruce, Damian, Jason, and Cass searched for you. Not a single room went unchecked, and when they still came out empty handed, their own worries began to fuel each others.

Dick was the first one to suit up and head out, already calling Barbara as night fell on Gotham, with Tim beginning to suit up — yet Jason had beat him to the punch and was out the second the Manor was cleared. Cass was next to follow, with Bruce and Damian not following too far behind. Tim only left after informing Stephanie — and after downloading some of your songs — and telling Alfred to keep a look out just in case you came back home.

In just a few hours, what started as an unusually uneventful and calm, quiet day for the family, quickly turned into one of the most panicked induced searches and painful night of their lives.

All because of you.

---------

You were tuning your guitar calmly, tapping your foot to the melody playing in your head as you hummed. The silence surrounding you was peaceful for a chance, and didn't feel suffocating or as unnerving as the silence in the Manor did.

Honestly, it took a bit of getting used to but after a few weeks you had grown to love it. Waking up everyday and having someone there to not only greet you, but actually acknowledge you also took a bit of getting used to, but you managed much more easily with that.

Sure, there were other things as well, but you eased into it and had come to accept these small things as just parts of your new life. Yet, you still found yourself appreciating and noticing the smallest things, and almost crying over them too.

It had been a few months since you had left the Manor, and honestly you couldn't be happier.

You now shared an apartment with one of your closets friends, and your career helped you cover your half of the rent, as well as other expenses. You had truly found comfort with this new lifestyle, and even if you'd like to move out of Gotham one day — you could settle for this for now.

This, you believed, was what peace truly felt like.

Even when your phone started to go off like crazy — you just took one look at who it was and rolled your eyes, putting your phone on silent as you placed it face down on the table in front of you. You didn't know what Dick and Tim needed so badly, but you were sure they'd be able to figure it out themselves. After all, they were the sons of the world's greatest detective, right? They could handle themselves.

So you just leaned back into your couch, sighing softly as you mindlessly strummed away at your guitar, smiling a little to yourself when the tune was just right. Creating a melody came all too naturally to you, and all you did was carry it on — humming softly as countless ideas filled your head. A small song beginning to form, even if unintentionally.

A song that went on — with the suffering of Gotham going on in the background. The city being cleared out and searched by the vigilantes that dared to protect it, all of it being done just to look for one person. You.

The shouts and screams served as the base, with the shattering of glass and bones being the lower kick, perhaps. The heart beat serving as the tempo, and so on.

So, just as you had years ago, you played on. Calm and happy in your own little world, unaware of the horrors to come — and destruction being made in your name.

–––––

Well, that's long, isn't it?

Might be making a another post that kind of details what some of the others did before everything went to hell? We'll see. Maybe.

Sorry again for any mistakes, especially towards the halfway point/end there.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Thank you all for an incredible 500 days of love and support. I offer you: answers to questions that no one has asked.

(As always, more can be found in the tags <3)

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

Transcript -

Gabriel : *heavy breathing and grunting* Bastard. 

Useless bucket of bolts. Yeah, you better run!

Load back to your- Ah shit, that was hard. Load back to your little checkpoint.

Yeah, go ahead. Go P rank the other levels. 

Oh… I’m sorry. Can-can-can I? Excuse me, can I help you?

Columbo : Oh, uh, hi there. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.

Uh, I’m looking for somebody. 

Uh, Gabriel is it? Is that you? Is that who I’m lookin for?

Listen, I just gotta say, you did an amazing job uh… Fighting off that uh. 

What’d ya-what’d ya call it?

Uh, you called it a… 

Gabriel : A mere object?

Columbo : That’s right. A mere object. 

Phenomenal work. 

I gotta tell ya. Robots, I don’t trust em myself. 

Ya know, I had-I had this one episode where uh, there was this robot named Rob and uh-

Gabriel : Uh, yes. 

That’s very fascinating, but could you perhaps get on with your introduction? 

Columbo : Uh, certainly. So I’m, uh, I’m lieutenant Columbo. Uh, I’m with the LAPD. Uh, I'm in the homicide department. 

Gabriel : Homicide? You can’t kill a machine. 

Columbo : No no no! Of course not. But um… Well… Ya can certainly love one.

Gabriel : D-d-d-detective I- I don’t- I don’t know what you’re implying there with that statement!

As you can tell I… Despise machines and wouldn’t think about doing so- Loving them, I mean.

Columbo : Yes, of course uh. Absolutely, it’s completely unthinkable. 

Except, well. While I was- while I was over here and I opened this door and uh fourteen- fourteen V1 body pillows fell out. Along with a buncha the plushies. 

Uh, and I just can’t imagine how ya- how ya happened upon something like that by accident.

It’s a little ridiculous! Uh, frankly.

Gabriel : Uh, no no no, listen.  

Detective. I can explain, okay? 

Those belong to- uh! That guy over there! 

*Filth-like scream*

Gabriel : Yeah! A real freak! 

Some kinda pervert. I don’t know why we keep him around.

But uh, I-I have nothing to do with it. 

Columbo : Well, ya see, I would believe- I would believe that, but uh. 

It’s just that- Well we had the boys at the lab run these pillows and we found your cum- We found your DNA all over em, uh.

You’re-You’re under arrest, I’m killing you.

Gabriel : K-hah. Kill me? *laughs*

Oh detective. 

Columbo : Oh. Aw fuck.

Gabriel : I’m afraid you’ve made a grave mistake. 

Because, in fact… What is going to happen instead…

Is actually what I’m gonna- AHHHG MOTHERFUCKER

I’LL FUCKIN KILL YOU

SON OF A BITCH 

AHHG YOU BASTARD

I’LL RIP YOU APART 

PIECE OF SHIT

YOU FUCK

ASSHOLE

BITCH

*Grunting* 

Oh Shit. 

Oh. What have I done? 

V1 : Bro, tell me you didn’t just kill a fucking cop.

Gabriel : The law will be here any second now… 

Machine, flush the drugs.

V1 : No way, bro. Let’s smoke that.

Gabriel : All of it?!?

Hm… One last ride…

Well, alright.

*coughing his lungs out*

V1 : No Gabriel, holding it in doesn’t do anything!

*Gabriel continues to cough his lungs out*

End of transcription

Audio source part 1

Audio source part 2

[chiliger]

Cody - Kote - Glory

For Cody Day 2/2/24

(Closeups under the cut)

[starryluminary]

♪ Last Man in the World ♪

The Band CAMINO

╾━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╼

◃◃ II ▹▹

Now we’re really getting into canon divergence. The nitty gritty, if you will. This episodes pretty much the same; Noah calls Alejandro an eel and gets called out for it, Courtney and Gwen find Duncan and he joins Team Chris, you know how it goes. What changes is that Team Chris ends up winning the challenge (like they should of in the first place but I digress) and get Duncan as their prize. I’m gonna say Gwen lets it slip that she has feelings for Duncan and Courtney gets incredibly upset, getting Sierra and Heather to vote for Gwen. Cody’s all out of sorts after Noah was at risk of being kicked off, though he wont say that out loud. He doesn’t have to, anyway. Tyler also gains a massive weight on his shoulders but it’s fine he’ll be fine

[leenfiend]

sometimes good things take a while

(two slow dancers - mitski)

[trashcompactorsewerrat]

Save me funny man

[undying-love]

Paul being very secure about his sexuality: A compilation

"The reason why we didn’t do Up Against It wasn’t because it was too far out or anything. We didn’t do it because it was gay. We weren’t gay and really that was all there was to it. It was quite simple, really. Brian was gay…and so he and the gay crowd could appreciate it. Now, it wasn’t that we were anti-gay – just that we, The Beatles, weren’t gay."

“It was always obvious Brian was gay and we could talk to him about gay things, but he would never come out with, ‘Hello, Paul, you’re looking nice today.’ I was quite obviously un-gay, due to my hunting of the female hordes. I think we all gave that impression."

Q:  You must be very secure with yourself.

Paul: I think it is that. I'm OK with gay people, too, because I'm essentially comfortable with my sexuality. I can goof around with gay people. I sort of know who I am by now.  And it's about time.

"I imagine he heard it [Dear Friend]. I think he listened to my records, but he never responded directly. That wasn't his way. We were guys; it wasn't like a boy and a girl. In those days you didn't release much emotion with each other."

"One thing he told us was that one in every four men is homosexual. So we looked at the group! One in every four! It literally meant one of us is gay. Oh, fucking hell, it’s not me, is it? We had a lot of soul-searching to do over that little one."

"There's a song I do called Here Today which is specifically written for John. That sometimes catches me out. I realise I'm telling this man that I love him and it's like I'm publicly declaring this in front of all these people I don't know. I sometimes wonder what I'm doing.

Q: In “Here Today”, you talk about your love for John. Did you ever say that to him, in those days?" Paul: No. I'm sure we both felt it. But that is not something two boys use to say to each other. If they were gay, maybe. Otherwise it is rare that that happens."

"My view is that these things are there whether you want them or not, in your interior. You don't call up dreams, they happen, often the exact opposite of what you want. You can be heterosexual and be having a homosexual dream and wake up, and think, 'Shit, am I gay?' I like that you don't have control over it. But there is some control -- it is you dreaming, it is your mind it's all happening in."

"We were in New York before he [George] went to Los Angeles to die, and they were silly but important to me. And, I think, important to him. We were sitting there, and I was holding his hand, and it occurred to me — I’ve never told this — I don’t want to hold George’s hand. You don’t hold your mate’s hands. I mean, we didn’t anyway. "

"Yeah, I think he [John] did [love me], yeah. It wasn’t actually a spiky relationship at all. It was, uh, very warm, very close and very loving, I think. All The Beatles. We used to say, I think we were amongst the first sort of men to come out openly – and you remember, it was quite sort of strange in those days, we’re talking about a long time ago now when homosexuality was still sort of largely illegal."

"Because he [Robert Faser] was gay, it raised a few small-minded eyebrows, and funnily enough, one or two of them were from within the Beatles: ‘Hey, man, he’s gay, what you going off to Paris with him for? They’re gonna talk, you know. Tongues are going to wag.’ I said, ‘I know tongues are going to wag, but tough shit.’ I was secure about my sexuality. I always felt this is is fine. I can hang with whoever I want and it didn’t worry me. I mean, we didn’t share a room or anything."

"With Robert’s thing of course there would be gayness. But there was no open gayness. If there was to be gayness it would be a quiet phone call that Robert would go and take in the bedroom or something. That was one of the good things, actually, because I knew he was gay and he knew I wasn’t gay so we were quite safe in our own | sexuality. We could talk to each other. "

Lastly, there is this odd anecdote that may or may not mean anything, but here it is:

One of the strangest of these incidents came at the end of 1992 when Mark Featherstone-Witty attended the MPL Christmas lunch. Mark took an accountant friend to the meal, a McCartney fan he'd known for years, which led to a strange and unpleasant row. By Mark's recollection, Paul's manager Richard Ogden summoned him into the MPL office the next day where he read him the riot act for bringing an unwelcome guest to Paul's party. 'What do you mean by bringing someone who was so obviously gay to Paul's Christmas party? Have you any idea about the responsibility you carry in this project?' he allegedly asked. 'What are you talking about?' replied Featherstone-Witty, explaining who his friend was. 'But he was gay, you stupid fucker!' 'No, he isn't.' 'You've got to be careful. You can't do anything that would embarrass Paul...'"

Fab : An intimate Life of Paul McCartney by Howard Sounes

[weirdofish]

Don't turn around, Weeg.

Man, this looked much funnier in my head. The thought of Shadow really wanting something mundane like brownies is kind of humorous to me. The whole joke is that the brownies are ultimate because they attract ultimate life forms (I dunno what I was thinking, either. I just thought it was funny.)

While making the first panel I was listening to I Am All Of Me not realizing how funny it was to listen to that while drawing someone making brownies (though let's face it: nothing is as hardcore as Luigi with freshly baked goods XD)

Bonus panels:

I told you not to turn around (don't worry, he's fine)

And Shadow got his damn brownies

You know, this reminds me of this:

He has conquered the Dairy Queen brownie XD

[simpleisthehardest]

Alex and Henry in Red, White and Royal Blue (2023)

History, huh? Bet we could make some.

[puppyeared]

learning abt friendship decay and "not reaching out to your friends for months at a time unprompted is not neurotypical behaviour" has me feeling a certain way

[froschli96]

You know what, fuck it, I have to speak my truth! (this is gonna be a rant, so anyone who actually likes assassin's creed revelations and/or the secret crusade, be warned or maybe don't read this at all)

remember how altaïr talks to king richard at the end of ac1, and richard is like "[humans] come into the world kicking and screaming, violent and unstable. it is what we are. we cannot help ourselves."? and how altaïr answers "no. we are what we choose to be." and how that ACTUALLY has meaning bc he himself was "violent and unstable" at the beginning of the game but he has learned and is now CHOOSING to be a better person who cares about others and humanity at large? remember how his calmness and gentleness was something that he ACQUIRED over the course of the story?

and remember how in revelations they then suddenly had a PRE-AC1 altaïr say about the first of his targets "no man should pass from this world without knowing some kindness." and be all wise and calm and collected during a nice little chat with al mualim, who suddenly acts all fatherly? (like, this is suddenly supposed to be a positive relationship? what??)

also, during the confession the target says to altair: "you put too much faith in the hearts of men, altaïr. [...] humans are weak, base, and petty." and altaïr answers: "no. our creed is evidence to the contrary." KJASJFJDKL???? like, it’s almost insulting how close this exchange is to the one with richard. you know, the one that was actually earned after a whole game of character development. like WTF??? cool congrats now that development means nothing. like, apparently that was just altaïr reverting BACK to being the exemplary assassin who understands and believes in the creed that he was apparently just born as. (i also hate how having a young inexperienced altaïr saying this implies that altaïr's faith in humanity is a sign of naivete instead of a sign of the wisdom he has gained after being confronted with counter arguments for a whole game, and also something that distinguishes the assassins from the templars who use humanity's supposed wickedness to justify controlling them like in AC1, but whatever)

altaïr’s development in AC1 mattered BECAUSE he is not NATURALLY a good person, it actually said something about humanity's capacity for both bad AND good and how humans don't have to be forced to be good through mind control bc they can by their own free will choose to be better when taught how and when allowed the freedom to grow. but no. apparently altaïr has just always been calm, wise and gentle. and he just sort of forgot about that during AC1 bc…. ? bc of adha?? bc of abbas???

oh don’t get me started on the whole abbas thing. (it doesnt even make sense that abbas is so hung up about his father and "his family’s honor", like what about the whole point of al mualim not allowing parents to be close to their children bc it would make them weak? like, my dude, you’re not supposed to HAVE any family aside from the brotherhood)

they used the throwaway character that had like 5 lines and made him into altaïr’s main antagonist in revelations… like, abbas wasn’t supposed to be this ONE dude who had personal beef with altaïr, he was just supposed to show how while altaïr’s revered by many, a lot of his brothers also hate him, bc 1) altaïr is a shitty person at this point and 2) bc there’s no real feeling of community and family in this version of the brotherhood, but just a pervasive sense of competition and jealousy — these assassins don’t care about their goal of safeguarding humanity bc they’re too hung up on petty squabbles and divided by rivalries (you know, the things that made malik hate altaïr even before solomon’s temple and that he overcomes in the end which enables him to forgive and to reconcile with altaïr so they can work together and stop al mualim? (you ever just think about "we are one. as we share the glory of our victories, so too should we share the pain of our defeat. in this way we grow closer. we grow stronger." and cry? bc i do. all the time. malik, the man that you are))

and now abbas is altaïr’s childhood best friend turned lifelong enemy?? like, bowden bent over backwards to come up with an explanation for why altaïr is an arrogant ass at the beginning of AC1, when the explanation is right there: he was raised to kill without asking questions and was constantly praised for how good he is at murder, which resulted in him becoming arrogant and disregarding human life. like, it doesn’t have to be some shakespearean family feud type shit. and guess what, this "simple" explanation actually plays into the story’s themes, who’da thunk!

(like, abbas might not have been a "fleshed out" character in AC1, but he had a specific function and now that function is gone. mr bowden, mr mcdevitt, you know characters are allowed to simply exist to tell us something about their worlds and the systems they live in and sometimes that’s more important and also more interesting than having every single character have a detailed backstory to explain all their behaviors, right?)

with all of this revelations loses all nuance in regards to the levantine brotherhood and also the creed in general. like, altaïr being a master assassin at the beginning despite being a terrible person and not actually understanding the creed is a criticism of the brotherhood and the creed itself. like, it said something about the order that someone like altaïr was able to get that high in rank, simply bc he's good at killing, which also tells us what is considered important in the al mualim era assassin order. when you make altaïr’s arrogance the result of his personal conflicts instead of how we was raised by a brotherhood that only valued one's ability to kill, you lose that characterization of the assassin order itself!

and by suddenly making al mualim a semi good "father figure" you also downplay his manipulation of not only altaïr but all those under his care. (altaïr says something about al mualim being "as a father" to him exactly twice in the codex, but he doesn’t mean by that that he WAS a father to him, what he means is that he was the CLOSEST THING he had bc HE DID NOT HAVE PARENTS, not because his mother died in childbirth and his father was executed when he was young btw, BUT BECAUSE IT WASN’T ALLOWED, like his parents actually lived but weren’t allowed to be close to him, he says he came to view al mualim’s "weak and dishonest" love as enough and even better BECAUSE HE HAD NOTHING ELSE, BECAUSE AL MUALIM ISOLATED HIS ASSASSINS FROM THEIR FAMILIES. al mualim "loved" him bc he was good at killing people for him! hm, i wonder if this could be trying to say anything about cults and indoctrination and the inherent contradiction in fighting for peace and free will by taking children away from their parents and raising them to become killers?? like, altaïr wasn't ~the special orphan boy~ taken in by al mualim bc his father died a hero's death, it was "the way of the order" to have al mualim be the closest thing to a parental figure for everyone to ensure absolute loyalty! altaïr saying al mualim was like his father is not supposed to make you go "oh, he must have actually been a good guy for altaïr to consider him a father", it should make you go "oh that's kinda fucked up that he considers the dude who made him into a killing machine and who manipulated him a sort of father figure"!)

and then in revelations they suddenly portray that relationship as positive and healthy??? like, it would be one thing to give it some nuance by delving into the psychology behind al mualim’s "love" and maybe showing how al mualim did care about altair in a complicated, fraught sort of way (like, you know, there’s a lot of interesting things you could say about al mualim at several points addressing altaïr as "my child" in AC1 and how that parallels Garnier referring to the people he drugged and abused as his "children", and what that says about how the templars view the people who they say they want to save and in whose best interests they supposedly act (in any case, al mualim doesn’t use that phrase because he has any real parental feelings but rather to patronize and to invalidate any objections, like in a "mother knows best" way))

but they even fucking DARE to parallel that relationship with that of altaïr and darim in revelations, by having the reflection in the puddle of darim hugging altaïr showing altaïr hugging al mualim…. like their relationship wasn’t inherently abusive but just tragically cut short because al mualim was just "corrupted by the apple"… like WHAT???? so it’s not the very real problems like grooming, manipulation and indoctrination and the hierarchical structure of the brotherhood itself (all of which are antithetical to the assassin ideology), it was just the evil apple all along. great. that’s DEFINITELY a lot more interesting.

god im sorry i really dont want to spread negativity but this is driving me INSANE. like, somebody please tell me im not crazy bc i feel like somehow most of the fandom is in agreement that revelations and the secret crusade have better storytelling and characterization than ac1.

SPEAKING OF WHICH, can we talk about how, even IF we completely ignore AC1 and treat revelations altaïr as his own character…. the narrative still doesn’t really work?

basically, the whole point of his story in rev is that "he gave his whole life to the brotherhood", this obsession led to him not using his time with his family which has him ending up dying alone in a dark library and this in turn makes ezio reevaluate his life choices…. except. he doesn’t? neglect? his family? or whatever? like, his devotion to the assassins is sort of painted as this tragic flaw that leads to a lonely death bc it supposedly comes at the cost of his family, but… his wife has joined the assassins, (at least) one of his sons is in the brotherhood and even when he goes to protect the assassins against the mongols, he takes his family with him (except for the son who stays behind bc he has a family of his own and who, ironically, ends up dying bc of that)… like, you can’t describe altaïr as a good husband and father in the database and have his son tell him that "everything that is good in me began with you, father" when they say goodbye, and then want to make us believe that he put his family behind the brotherhood and that that is a character flaw that leads to his tragedy.

because you HAVE to have a character’s tragedy be the result of a character flaw. like. that is how tragedies work. otherwise it just becomes tragedy for the sake of tragedy which is… boring bc it has no purpose. and we know it is SUPPOSED to have purpose bc ezIO FUCKING QUITS BEING AN ASSASSIN AFTER WITNESSING IT!

it’s like they want to have their cake and eat it, too — they didn’t want to actually make altaïr a bad husband/father, but still wanted to make his life a tragedy where he loses his family which is why instead they outsource all responsibility to abbas who now has to be the reason for ALL the deaths.

like, they try to make at least maria’s death kind of sort of the result of altaïr’s rashness or whatever but like… these guys KILLED THEIR SON and TOLD HIM THAT ALTAÏR HAD ORDERED HIS DEATH. like, altaïr losing it in response to that is not rash, it’s fucking logical and justified! if anything the scene made me angry at maria for trying to stop him. like, GIRL, he was YOUR son too??? but god forbid we give female characters actual real emotions, she has to fill the role of "voice of reason who dies for altaïr’s man pain" i fucking guess.

like, it’s this weird mix where his tragedy is simultaneously painted as his own fault but also not really bc abbas is the one responsible for all the shit that happens. it just… it just doesn’t really go together.

the only way to make his story make sense narratively and to give it actual purpose is by looking at it in the context of ezio’s story, bc the things he sees in altaïr’s memories are supposed to be a revelation (ha!) to ezio specifically. and i guess that’s maybe the crux of it all — altaïr’s story in revelations was conceived of first and foremost to support ezio’s story and development. which is probably also why many people maybe don’t notice bc, having skipped ac1 and started with ac2, the majority of people mostly care only about ezio and only really appreciate altaïr’s story in as far as it serves to push ezio forward. (tho i’ve also seen a few people say that ezio is also written kind of weird in rev, but i’ve never really been an ezio girly myself so i can’t speak to the truth of that)

like, altaïr dying alone in the library doesn’t really have to make sense for his character, i guess, bc it’s only really supposed to be a cautionary tale for ezio.

so, i guess, for once, they actually had a MAN dying for another man’s character development, which is pretty woke actually. ubisoft, i take everything back jksdsfjhgdsahfhsdhfghfdsgjhsdgjh

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

Transcript:

Who hell do you think you are? You’re any kind of artist? Anybody knows who you are?

Maybe everybody else wants to enjoy the peace and quiet. This is one of the most important places in North America, and who are you? Who are you? You miserable, presumptuous, no talent- you’re no artist. An artist respects the silence. It serves the foundation of creativity. 

You obviously don’t have the talent. You don’t have enough respect for yourself or other people to know what it means to respect yourself, in music or any form of creativity, and I’m an NYU film school graduate. Sucker. And the school of visual arts in the academy of art university in San Francisco.

You suck. You’re a no talent. If you really have talent go practice and then get yourself a gig instead of ruining the day for everybody down here. You disgrace. You are everything that’s gone wrong in this world. You’re a self consumed, no talent, mediocre piece of shit. And I’ve earned my right to say it, okay? In 1975, I walked Bob Dylan up on stage. Who the fuck are you? I knew the Grateful Dead from 1966.

Who the fuck are you?

You’re nothing. You are nothing. And you will never be anything. Never. How dare you? You miserable mediocre nothing. Shame on you. You crack a stupid little smile, you little pimp. Go learn to play. You’re flat. You can’t even carry a fucking note. I don’t care about your little horn lip, it doesn’t mean you know how to play. You’re flat. I’ve trained classically, I’ve trained contemporaneously, and

you suck. 

Audio source

Original video that's being referenced

[oftenlyshitposting]

a wolf, a warrior, and a hotspring | wolfwren fic

"meet me here again tomorrow. at noon."

sabine finds that slumber has been kinder to her. she awoke to the hazy peridean early sun, to the smell of cookings just outside of the fulcrum. the noti people must have been up for sometime now. with the scent of food entering the ship, that means ahsoka is, too.

oh, right. she hasn't told ahsoka.

sabine rises from her bunk with a soft grunt, already fabricating a plan to sneak out of camp. she glances at the clock she and huyang constructed; the time is indicating closer towards midday. sabine leans out of her bunk to search for ahsoka and huyang, not finding either at the common table or the practice floor. the door to the cockpit was also open, showing vacant seats. they're outside then, sabine concluded.

without wasting anymore time, sabine tiptoes to the refresher for a quick wash and to get dressed. her fingers were crossed that ahsoka stays occupied until she could sneak out, but luck betrayed her. by the time sabine got out of the refresher, ahsoka was at the common table, plating some bowls that looked like breakfast and a jug of what sabine assumes as the tea she usually drinks.

"morning," ahsoka calls, her tone sounding suspiciously humoured, "had a good sleep?"

sabine scratches her hair, avoiding eyes with ahsoka. "uh, yeah. slept alright."

"that's good."

sabine nods, quickly making her way to her bunk to pack up her blasters and to put on her beskar. her periphery catches ahsoka's eyes on her, but she tries her best to ignore her master. plan A of quietly sneaking out failed, so sabine decides to just play it coolly and find the right time to sneak out again. she casually walks to grab a cup from the storage, pouring herself the tea.

"what's all this?" sabine nods at the bowls and plates at the table, sipping her tea to calm her nerves.

ahsoka pushes a bowl at sabine's direction, "late breakfast. the noti found native fruits and berries, you should try some," and made a gesture sabine interprets as an instruction for her to sit and eat.

sabine shrugs. "alright." she began scooping the bowl; it consists of some kind of mushy grain-like porridge with various haphazardly chopped fruits. the texture initially puts her off, but the taste wasn't so bad. it reminded her of some kind of pudding. "hey, where's huyang?"

"he's outside. last i saw, he was helping a noti folk fix up their little pod," ahsoka replies easily, munching on a crunchier chopped fruit. sabine hums in response, mouth a little full. ahsoka then looks at sabine inquisitively as she asks, "where'd you run off yesterday? you were gone for a really long time."

"uh, i went out to hunt?" sabine cringes internally, not intending her answer to sound unconvincing, which she follows up with, "no luck, though. no game, or stuff. but, i did find a hotspring."

"did you?"

"yep."

ahsoka's brow quirked, and sabine can't really tell what her master is thinking. "you found someone, though. didn't you?"

well, shoot. sabine doesn't really know how to deny that question, so she decides to dance around the whole truth, "yeah. baylan's blonde padawan. i ran into her at the spring. surprisingly, she didn't try to kill me."

"i can see that," ahsoka chuckled. "did something happen?" when sabine tilts her head questioningly, ahsoka adds, "i felt something shifted, in the force."

double shoot. guess plan B of sneaking out and postponing the conversation failed too. sabine sighs. "i guess so...? i... i don't know. i can feel her, and she can feel me. through the force."

"that's not uncommon. you've finally tapped into the force, making your presence known within it and to anyone who can access the force." ahsoka gestures between them, explaining further, "like how i can sense you, and you can sense me."

ahsoka's explanation makes sense. though, sabine can't help but think that there's more to the connection between her and shin. she knows that ahsoka and her have a bond, as master to padawan. it doesn't quite make sense to her as to why she would share a connection with shin; the kind of bond that they have.

thinking about their bond might have subconsciously triggers it in sabine's mind, as she finds herself reaching for shin within the force. she sees shin, on the other end of their connection, hunting with a group of the red-armoured bandits. sabine can feel shin sensing her presence in their connection.

shin pauses atop her howler, turning her head to the side where sabine is sitting inside the fulcrum. sabine's breath choked in her throat when she hears shin's voice... inside her mind?

'you missed me already?'

sabine wants to scream out loud; shin sounded unbearably cocky, like she was teasing her. and the fact that shin's voice filled her whole mind like an echo in a chamber doesn't help her clear her mind. even in an odd psychic link, shin can be infuriating.

'you wish,' sabine replied in her mind, trying to put up a convincing annoyed act. 'this happened out of my control, okay?'

shin lets out a noise that sounded like a chuckle. 'you are a lousy liar, if you did not know already.' when sabine was about to protest her, shin interrupts, 'as much as i enjoy to watch you try to lie your way out, i am in the middle of hunting. you, are a distraction.'

sabine rolled her eyes, disconnecting herself from the freaky little mind connection thing. she almost choked on her tea when she finds ahsoka looking at her with such a knowing look. sabine finds it oddly infuriating and similar to shin. she hid her face behind her cup, shooting an unamused glare back.

"what?"

ahsoka smiles, and sabine has a bad feeling about it. "you were with her just know, weren't you?"

sabine chokes, "i- what are you–?" she sputters with flushing cheeks. she then manages, "how did you...?"

"well, you went quiet for a while," ahsoka points out the obvious with a smile, sipping her tea, "and i felt the presence of someone else briefly. someone you ran into rather frequently, on top of that."

"that's great," sabine grumbles. "so, the cost of using the force is no privacy for my mind, got it." perhaps she should learn the whole force mind-shield trick, if it's possible to learn it this early.

ahsoka laughs. "relax. i wasn't in your mind, ever." she then makes a move to stand, placing a hand on sabine's shoulder as she says, "i only felt something in the force, and i put two and two together."

sabine pouts, but didn't say anything to that. she opts to finish her bowl of food quickly, knowing ahsoka is going to prepare her for more training. when she finished eating, she quickly cleans the table and brought the dishes to get it cleaned.

ahsoka was preparing the practice floor by the time sabine finishes cleaning up, presumably for meditation training. not exactly sabine's most favourite part of training, but she really doesn't have much to say as a padawan. perhaps ahsoka might teach her how to not let other people look into her brain, that would be neat.

it was a few hours later when ahsoka concurred sabine's training for the day. her master had thrown in a little zatochi session post meditation, testing if her senses are more honed in than the first time sabine did it. to ahsoka's pleasure, sabine did improve when it comes to sensing ahsoka's intents. didn't entirely surprise ahsoka that sabine still falls victim to getting frustrated easily, resulting in ahsoka tripping her again.

"going to meet her again?" ahsoka called out as sabine was packing up a bag, smiling teasingly as she leans against the backrest of the common table.

sabine rolled her eyes. "oh, ha-ha."

"sabine, relax, it doesn't bother me what you do in your spare time." her togrutan master laughs, amused at sabine's defensiveness. ahsoka reaches over to a storage compartment, taking out the large fur coat that she doesn't wear, handing it to sabine. "take this. give it to her."

"what? why?" sabine frowns, looking down at the coat. she recalls that shin has her own cape thing that she wore to the hotspring yesterday.

ahsoka steps closer, her expression a little serious. "it's better used with her than it stays here, gathering dust. and sabine?" when sabine raised her brows expectantly, ahsoka continues, "ask her if she'd like to stay with us."

sabine eyes widened, unexpecting ahsoka's request. "wh– what do you mean 'stay with us'? why?"

"her master's abandoned her. she's alone."

"not as alone as you might think," sabine scoffs, petulant. "she's running with the bandits."

ahsoka shoots her a look, unimpressed. "you know that is not what i meant." she sighs patiently. "you can feel her, more than i do. you know what she feels, her emotions and her thoughts."

"yeah, i guess so..."

"and you of all people, knows best what it's like when your master walks away from you."

and there it is, the final strike home. sabine groans, "y'know, i hate it when you're right about things."

ahsoka laughs, deep and low in her torso. she pats sabine's shoulder and gave it an assuring squeeze. "i'm not always, and you know this. just try, sabine. she just needs someone at the moment."

"you think that someone is me?" sabine raises her brow, uncertain and expectant. ahsoka doesn't answer immediately, and sabine nods somewhat understandingly.

"you saw how she reacted when i offered my help the first time," ahsoka recounts to their last battle, where shin had looked so defeated and fled her and sabine. "i didn't believe she was ready then. but, like most things in life, we sometimes just needs to give it a little bit of time. i think she is more ready now, and with the right person," she nods at sabine, who pursed her lips in a tight-lipped smile, "she may accept our help."

sabine sighed, long and drawn. "alright, fine." the mandalorian grabs the fur coat, stuffing it in her bag. she huffs as she saddles the bag, walking towards the landing ramp. "i'll try to talk to her, but i can't promise anything. and if she kills me, you're responsible for murley!"

ahsoka merely laughs amusedly. "go!"

sabine waves at her master, before disappearing towards her howler and hops onto it's saddled back. her companion animal instantly takes off on it's strong legs, racing towards where it took her yesterday. sabine was tempted to search for shin again in their bond, but restrains herself and hopes that the blonde padawan will be there anyway.

her howler's speed began to decrease as the path to the hotspring becomes familiar to sabine's eyes. she scouts the surrounding, naturally out of instinct, for any bandits or nuisance that she'd have to fight off. the mandalorian sighs in relief when she saw nothing, and more importantly, sensed nothing dangerous in the force.

sabine hops off from her howler, keeping a gentle guiding hand on it's neck as they walk closer towards the spring. she finds a patch of thicker grass and softly commands 'tota' at her howler, unloading her bag and the sack of food for her howler. she scratches it's snout with a smile as it munches on the food sabine brought, whinying joyfully.

"you actually made it here again."

shin's voice filled sabine's surrounding and mind, and sabine wasn't even remotely surprised. she had sensed her arrival a few moments ago. and before she can say anything smart, shin had stolen the moment from her. sabine huffs amusedly.

"aw, were you expecting me to bail?" sabine teases with a smirk, turning from her howler to find shin. the blonde padawan is atop her white howler, head held high as always, and a ghost of a smirk on her lips. something felt a little off, though.

shin barely huffs out a laugh, sounding more like a restricted exhale. sabine watches closely; shin's arm is circled around her waist. like she's holding something in. sabine frowns, strutting closer towards shin, her skin breaking in sweat and her lips looking a little paler.

sabine then feels it; a pounding pain across her abdomen, the same area shin is clutching onto.

shin's tunic is leaking in red, sabine only now realises.

"shin!" sabine frantically approaches shin, wincing as she feels shin's pain on her body. the blonde padawan tries to get down from her howler, but could barely hold herself together. sabine commands the white howler 'tota' so she can help shin come down easier. "y-you're bleeding. what happened?"

shin grunts, pushing herself off of her howler. "i... we ran into a different group of bandits." her face contorts in pain as sabine lays her down on the ground, arm still clutching her bleeding abdomen. "they were not friendly." shin attempted at a joke, sabine assumes, but it came out as a whisper.

"i need you to remove your clothes." sabine hadn't realised what she blurted out, only registering what she said half a moment later, when shin looked at her with an incredulous and amused look. she tries composing herself as she says, "i brought a medkit, i'll wrap you up."

shin doesn't say anything, only nodding. sabine takes the sign to scramble back to her howler, grabbing her bag and searches for the medkit. she hopes it's sufficient enough to dress shin's wound, because if it's more serious, she'd need to take her to the fulcrum's medbay. that's about two dozens klicks from here, and sabine isn't sure shin can hold off that long of a journey back.

sabine returns to shin, laid on her back with the top part of tunic undressed. with it, reveals shin's wounded stomach. the injury is caked with a layer of crusted blood, mostly browned from oxidation, but still slightly leaking. sabine winces as she gauges the depth of shin's injury, but it's hard to conclude with the amount of blood covering the wound.

"i'm gonna start cleaning it up, okay?" sabine warns shin as she prepared a disinfecting kit, in which shin merely nodded weakly in response to. "it's gonna be a bit painful, so tell me if it's too much."

"do it," shin grunts, preparing herself. when the disinfectant grazes her injured skin, shin barked out a long and painful groan. sabine winces when shin grabs her arm, seemingly out of painful instinct. shin's body writhes as sabine continues wiping the bloodied wound, head thrown back whilst her eyes shut tightly in an agonizing manner. her eyes bolted open in a frenzy as she growled out, "fuck!"

sabine whispers calming phrases that she can remember in mando'a, working quickly and precisely on shin's injury. once cleaned, sabine can finally measure the depth of the gash on shin's stomach, and deduces it isn't as deep as she thought. it definitely requires stitching, and with limited kit, sabine had to resort to the quick-stitcher.

shin had gone quieter, huffing barely audible grunts. watching shin this awfully pale and unusually languid terrified sabine; she's always used to viewing shin as this indestructible force, that she's forgotten shin too, can bleed. her chest rises and falls in an arrhythmic pattern, lips pale and eyes sunken in.

"hey. shin?" sabine gently touches her shoulder, and shin sluggishly moves her head to face her. she smiles, tight-lipped and half apologetic. "i'm gonna stitch you up quickly, yeah?"

"alright." shin nods weakly, dropping her head back to the side again, facing away from sabine.

sabine sanitizes the quick-stitcher, a stapler-like device, and applies a topical numbing gel around the gash. shin hisses at the contact, but exhales softly afterwards. sabine works her way quickly, stitching shin's wound closed. the numbing gel works, sabine can tell from the way shin merely jumps at the first few stitches but didn't groan in pain.

when the last stitch was applied, sabine applies healing ointments before she props shin up to a raised position as she quickly wraps shin's wound with a sterile gauze neatly. sabine reaches to a boulder nearby through the force, placing it behind shin so the blonde padawan can lean her back against it to support her body.

"okay," sabine said in a relieved half-whisper, haphazardly storing her equipments back to the medkit box, "there. you're all good."

shin was quiet for a bit, huffing a long drawn-out breath. her eyes slowly opens, and sabine can guess she's slightly disoriented and hazy. shin's hand raised to hold her neatly bandaged torso, still partially naked as her tunic hangs open on her shoulder.

"this was not how i expected the day to go." shin winces as she tries sitting more upright, making a move to redo her tunic. the tone of her voice is indecipherable, but if sabine dared to guess, she sounds somewhat embarrassed of herself.

sabine's lips quirk to a half smile, sitting properly. "yeah, well. i don't think anyone ever really plans to get ambushed by a group of rogue bandits, huh?"

shin rolls her eyes weakly. "you are really not as funny as you think, did you know that?"

"you have a really funny way of saying thanks, did y'know that?" sabine returns with a cock of her brow. that earned her a faint disgusted look from shin, making her snort. she nudges shin, teasing but careful not to hurt the wound. "i did, just save you from bleeding out."

"you are infuriatingly confusing," shin sighs, leaning her head back against the rock behind her, but smiling at sabine nonetheless, "but i appreciate your help. you worked quick enough that it was not torturous for me."

this time, sabine rolled her eyes at shin's dry joke. "ha-ha. maybe i should have, if you wanted me to hurt you that much."

shin doesn't say anything, her faint smile shifts a little more somberly as her lidded eyes stays fixated on sabine's. the mandalorian sinks into shin's darkened greenish-blue eyes, couldn't tear her eyes away even if she wants to. not like she wants to, anyway. shin's pupils are slightly blown, but her gaze is strong. it reminded sabine when she stared at her at the shuttle ship, descending from morgan's golden hyperspace donut.

"what is in your head?" shin mutters with her usual tilt of her head, voice slightly scratched and accent heavy on her tongue. her evergrowing pale fringes are sticking to her forehead, edges poking her lids. sabine couldn't stop herself from brushing them away gently with the pads of her fingers.

sabine smiles. "aren't you usually in it? 'soka told me everyone can hop into my brain now, because i can access the force."

shin had this ghost of an unimpressed look on her face that sabine finds mildly hilarious. "just because we are intertwined in the force, doesn't mean i know what you are always thinking. your mind is always... a forest. a colourful and loud forest."

sabine typically doesn't blush this easily, but the things shin says or do makes it really hard for her to contain her flustered reactions. she had to actively fight her blush down so she wouldn't turn half as red as her hair when she was twenty six.

"uh, thanks?" sabine manages lamely, losing any remaining ounces of eloquency. when shin had this barely readable expression on her face, something that sabine tries to decipher as amusement, she tries to shift topic, "anyways. i was about to hop in for a relaxing dip before i had to stop you from spilling your whole guts out, literally."

shin rolled her eyes at sabine's joke, earning a satisfied smirk from the mandalorian. she then tries to get up, which immediately sprung sabine to help. "a soak in the hotspring does sound nice."

sabine tries to sit shin back down. "whoa, hey. what do you think you're doing?"

"going for a dip."

"uh, not with a big ass gash on your stomach, you won't?"

"you dressed it already." shin stubbornly retorted.

sabine groans, exasperated. "yeah, and it'll undress if you go for a soak, di'kut."

shin's brows dipped, contorting in a mild confusion and surprise. "what?"

"your bandage. it's gonna get ruined–"

"no, i know that," shin quickly interrupted sabine, inching closer in an unlikely speed towards the mandalorian's space, ultimately sending sabine backward out of reflex. shin's eyes narrowed. "you said something earlier. in an alien language."

"ali– huh?" sabine face contorts in confusion, before things began to click in her mind. "what, di'kut?" she repeated the word at shin, who nods in confirmation. sabine snorts. "that's a mando'a word. it means 'idiot'. because you were."

shin's brow furrowed, and sabine swears her bottom lip quirked up to a pouty frown. "i am not an idiot."

sabine shoots shin an unimpressed look, which the blonde padawan returns with an empty glare. "you literally wanted to soak in a hotspring after someone tore your whole stomach open."

"didn't you dress my wound with a waterproof gauze? it should keep dry for a few hours."

"i-" sabine tries to argue, but shin did have a point. the mandalorian sighed. even if she had better argument points, shin most likely would have ignored sabine and do as she wishes anyway. "alright, fine. but, if your bandage undressed and your wound reopens, you best believe i'll make it hurt when i have to restitch it."

shin quirked her brows in a manner sabine interprets as impressed. the blonde padawan smirks wolfishly. "is that a threat?"

sabine wants to wipe that infuriatingly attractive smirk on shin's face so badly. the mandalorian leans closer towards shin, closing the already small space between them, her eyes darting towards shin's now vanishing smirk. sabine's eyes finds shin's stellar blue eyes as she tilts the blonde padawan by her chin.

"it can be a promise."

sabine swears, for a miniscule split of seconds, shin's pupils dilated and she can hear the soft hitch of her breath; like it was caught in her throat.

shin huffs, amused. "i'll be waiting for it then."

sabine scoffs, but shin had ignored her. shin unclasps her armour and stacking them neatly beside her rock, struggling to lean forward to strip away the lower part of her clothes and armour. shin had kicked off her boots, and is now left with her tight fitting black tank and her matching underwear.

"are you gonna keep staring at me?"

shin's voice snaps sabine out of her blatant staring, turning away with the speed of light to hide her blush. to stop herself from thinking about shin undressing in front of her, sabine immediately began taking off her beskar, one plate at a time.

sabine heard shin rustling behind her, attempting to stand and walk on her own. she had to turn, and saw shin wobbling unsteadily on her feet, but after a few steps, she regained a somewhat more stable stride. when shin finally got into the water, sabine had just finished stripping out of her jumpsuit. she left her beskar pieces neatly next to shin's own armour.

the hotspring feels a lot warmer than yesterday, but it isn't like the heat is intolerable. shin had sat herself down closer towards the deeper parts, the clear water stopping just at her collarbones. her eyes are closed as she dips her head back into the water, and comes back up swiftly. she wipes away water and stray hair clinging to her face, and sighed.

"the water just fine for you?" sabine asks as she dives headfirst, feeling the warmth prickling her cold cheeks. she resurface with a gasp, brushing purple locks away from her face and swims towards shin.

shin hums, eyes still closed. sabine couldn't help but watch shin's throat bobs up and down, and nearly drowned herself after catching herself doing it. shin's voice is soft when she spoke: "the springwater feels nice. i find this place to be a sanctuary in the midst of this wasteland of a planet."

sabine swims closer, stopping herself only a few inches away from shin. "yeah?"

shin nodded, finally peeling her eyes open. her gaze finds sabine's, and sabine began to wonder why are shin's eyes so captivating that she couldn't look away even if she tries. her aquamarine eyes began to roam sabine's face, dancing all over to find whatever it is shin is trying to find, before settling on her lower lip for a few seconds.

sabine feels shin reaching out to her, spread out in thr force. she reached towards shin, trying to meet her in the middle. her eyes almost rolled shut when she finds shin within the force, feeling an intense wave of warmth washing over her whole body.

shin is pulling her closer.

sabine hadn't even realised that she was physically padding towards shin's body until she opens her eyes and finds herself in between shin's legs. her face was much too close to shin's face, but shin isn't showing signs of protest. the blonde padawan's skin has regained some colour from sitting in the hotspring that she lost from the injury, and sabine finds herself staring unashamedly at shin's lips.

it's safe to say that shin barely noticed anything from sabine, because she's also much too occupied eyeing sabine's own lips hungrily. their bond in began to pulse and pull each other in as they feel each other and the ever growing tension that seems amplified. shin had already engulfed sabine in the force with her own tendril-like connection, wrapping her in an intense wave of pleasure and warmth.

"shin…" sabine couldn't stop a breathy whine laced underneath as she says the other padawan's name, the sound escaped her lips straight into shin's mind.

shin winces when sabine wraps herself around shin through their bond, and for a fraction of seconds, the mandalorian was worried she might have hurt shin. alas, with the way shin is grabbing onto sabine's hips, sabine can easily concur that it isn't out of pain. shin's skin burns under her touch, and not because of the warmth of the water surrounding them.

sabine hadn't even realised her body was being yanked forward and found herself seated atop of shin, suddenly looking down into a pair of darkened blue-greenish eyes and drowning into her.

shin's eyes flickered from sabine's down to her lips again before coming back up to meet her again. there's raw and hungry need behind those eyes; sabine doesn't even need to look at shin's eyes to know. sabine ran the pad of her thumb against shin's lower lip, almost sighing when her lips nibbled against her thumb.

she can feel shin; everything that shin is feeling.

shin's lips tremble against sabine's thumb, leaving her lips parted expectantly, and sabine is actively fighting the urge to slip her thumb inside. instead, she drags her thumb down to shin's chin, tilting her up even further. a surprised whine escaped shin.

"sabine…"

sabine shuts her eyes again. she reels in the way shin had said her name in the exact same way as she did yesterday; the way it sends chills up her spine and warmth down her abdomen. shin's grip on her hips tightened, threatening to dip lower. sabine couldn't help but smirk when she opens her eyes again, finding a new and much more satisfying look on shin's eyes.

shin is desperate; oozing with so much want.

"tell me," sabine whispered just above shin's lips, pulling back when the blonde padawan chases after her lips; smiling so teasingly as she hovers above, "what do you want, shin? use your words, cyar'ika."

a soft grunt escaped shin's lips, going straight into sabine's mouth, incoherent, but sabine heard it fine. "i need to kiss you."

sabine smiles, satisfied. her hand finds the side of shin's head, fingers gripping her mane of blonde as she dives her lips into shin's hungry ones. she can feel shin instantaneously grabbing her by her ass and pulls her closer into the open mouthed kiss, moaning from her touch straight into shin's throat.

shin is impatient; jagged and hurried, as she devours sabine whole. her teeth found flesh so easily and efortlessly as sabine allows her to nip and bite on her bottom lip. sabine tasted shin's pure, unadulterated raw need and want bleeding into her tongue, gripping into shin's neck and hair like a lifeline.

everything felt explosive; within her, within shin, and the area around them. their bond heightened every single senses in their body and tuning them to each other and everything surrounding them. it's sending sabine to a huge overdrive.

sabine began to wince in a mix of pleasure and pain; everything pricks at her skin but it feels so good at the same time. her fingers slipped further into the back of shin's head, yanking her hard enough to pull shin out of their hungry kiss. shin, much like a hungry animal, instantly chased for skin when they separated from the kiss, her lips and teeth latching onto sabine's pulse.

"shin... it's–" sabine chokes a moan when shin sucks just right on her pulse point, "fuck… shin... we need–" a louder moan escaped her, unsure why, "shin, it's t-too much now… we need to stop… shin!"

sabine's words fell on deaf ears as shin ignores her and kept her mouth busy on her collarbones, hands roaming on her ass like it's the only thing keeping shin alive. sabine wishes she could give in to the pleasure, but the pain is getting unbearable. the hand on shin's neck pushed her down hard enough, eliciting a surprised choked moan from shin.

sabine had to pretend that the noise didn't arouse her so much more than shin already did.

"shin, we need to p-pull away..." sabine hisses sternly through pain and pleasure. when she felt the bond between them pulsing again, she had to fight back another moan. "shin, pull away. right now."

shin regained a little more coherency and restraint at the urgency in sabine's tone, nodding as she began to slowly detach herself from sabine, physically and through the force.

somehow, pulling away from each other has become more painful than when they were engulfed in each other. shin growled carnally while sabine is on the other end, clutching her whole body in her arms because of the pain.

sabine immediately shuts off the bridge between them the same time as shin did, and much like yesterday, they both laid on opposite ends with bated and uneven breaths. shin laid flat on her back against the edges of the spring, whereas sabine was on her stomach and propped on her arms weakly.

"shin," sabine breathlessly called, trying to crawl closer towards shin. she gargled on the water, choking out, "are you okay?"

shin grunts as she rises from the water. "i'm alright." she turns to find sabine beside her. "you do not look or sound as alright."

sabine shush her as she tries dragging her body upwards, flipping over wetly so she's on her back. "shut up. not everyone who just had what felt like force-sex on spice gets to walk away as easily as you do, okay? i think i fried a bunch of my nerves."

"i see you've found your eloquency back."

"fuck you."

shin kinked a brow, amused. "didn't you already?"

sabine shot her a glare, but with the flushed cheeks, it's really not putting much effect. "shin hati, i swear i'll shoot you with my blaster if you keep talking."

sabine swears she saw shin's cheeks and neck flush a faint red, but doesn't think much about it, blaming it on the heat of the hotspring. speaking of necks, sabine starts to feel the dull throb of where shin had latched on her skin, groaning loudly.

"please tell me you didn't leave any marks," sabine moans as she touches the tender spots.

shin eyes sabine's neck, a ghost of her infuriating smirk began to haunt over her lips. guiltlessly, shin says, "there are some red marks all over."

"oh, come on! i bruise easily, shin!"

"you are a lot more adorable than i thought, then."

sabine grumbled loudly, but can't really bring herself to be actually mad at shin. "i really am going to shoot you with my blaster one day."

shin tilts her head back. "i will be waiting on that." she then slowly starts to rise from the water, walking slightly bent forward while clutching her bandaged wound. sabine watches with narrowed eyes as shin struts towards their pile of clothes and armour.

sabine had suspected something, immediately rising from the water to chase shin. shin quirked her brows, expression confused, but her body is shifted away from sabine's eyes as shin fumbles over with her tunic and pants.

sabine crossed arms. "your wound opened, didn't it." when shin ignored her, sabine grabbed her by her hips to look for the injury. and sure enough, the now soaking bandage is seeping with red right where shin's wound is at. "i told you it'll reopen."

shin merely shrugs, putting on her pants and tunic over her wet clothes. she began clasping up her armour pieces, while sabine huffs and puts on her own jumpsuit, skipping her beskar pieces. she takes out the large fur coat in her bag to make room for her beskar, tossing the coat at shin.

"what is this for?" shin asks, puzzled.

sabine zips up her jumpsuit. "put it on. it's almost nightfall and it'll get cold. you're coming back with me to my camp."

shin frowns. "no. i will go back to my own."

"shin, for fuck's sake," sabine groaned, unamused, "your wound is open. you come back to your camp with a gaping wound like that, and i'll have to look for your cold body tomorrow. i doubt the bandit's camp is crawling around with medkits or droids." when shin is unmoving, sabine sighs, speaking softer, "come with me. just for the night. deal?"

shin was quiet for a few beats, before sighing curtly. "fine. just for tonight."

sabine nodded, helping shin get up on her howler. "stay slumped over so your stitches won't get any more loose."

shin nodded quietly, and sabine hops onto her howler, guiding the white howler behind her as they make their way back to the fulcrum and the noti camp. sabine made a couple turns to look back at shin, making sure she didn't fall off her howler, and was relieved each time shin stays slumped over. her white howler is swift, but is gentle with shin.

they made it back to the fulcrum in only a couple of minutes, and sabine quickly got down from her howler to help shin come down from hers. sabine saddles her bag on one shoulder, and props shin on her other shoulder as they walk into the fulcrum's landing ramp.

"huyang!!" sabine yells into the fulcrum and drops her bag haphazardly. "is the med droid online?"

huyang appeared from the lightsaber parts storage room, halted in his track as he finds an awkwardly standing sabine with shin on her shoulder, looking at him expectantly and impatiently.

"i believe it's rebooting. i'll go and check it."

sabine mutters a small 'thanks' as she drags shin towards the medbay, the sliding door hissing open and the whiff of sanitary disinfectant hits both of their nostrils. shin wrinkles her nose, disagreeing with the scent, but made no comments.

"c'mon, let's get you up on the bed."

sabine hurriedly unclasped the fur coat and diligently undoes shin's damp tunic. she turns to the shelf to grab a pair of scissors to rip open shin's bandage, tossing the damp and bloodied gauze away. she snips away at the quick-stitches and threw them. she was preparing a disinfecting wipe when the door slides open and revealed an inquisitive ahsoka.

"sabine?"

"oh, hey, 'soka." sabine nods at her master. she then began to dab the disinfectant wipe on shin's without warning or preparation.

shin instantly growled, "fuck, sabine!!" while yanking on the sleeves of sabine's jumpsuit. the blonde padawan threw her head back in pain, before shooting a rabid glare at sabine as she spits, "a warning would be nice."

sabine rolled her eyes, ignoring shin. "i told you. if your wound reopens, i'll make the restitching hurt. you wanted my promise, didn't you?"

"fuck you." shin barely hissed it out because she had to throw her head back in pain when sabine pressed the wipe on her wound harder, groaning loudly.

"lady wren, the medic droid is online." huyang calls from the doorway, just behind ahsoka. "do you still need it's assistance?"

"no."

shin glares at sabine, borderline murderous. sabine thinks it's familiar to when they first met.

ahsoka steps in, lucky for shin. "let the droid work. sabine? a word."

sabine nods, tossing her wipes away. she sneers at shin. "you're lucky tonight, shin." she skids over to let the medic droid in to the medbay, grabbing huyang by his metallic arm, softly whispering, "keep an eye on her, will you?"

huyang nods, and sabine left shin with the droids in the medbay as she struts towards the common table with ahsoka sat on it. sabine pours two cups of tea, and slides the other cup at ahsoka while she sips on her own cup.

sabine was the first to ask. "what's up?"

"did you fight her?" ahsoka nods at the medbay.

"no, i found her like that. said she ran into a different kind of bandits and someone nearly gutted her." sabine sets down her cup, crossing her arm forward. "i patched her up, but the stitches were loose. had to bring her here, else she'd spill her whole intenstines out."

ahsoka nods, slow and processing. she sighs, and sabine isn't quite sure what that meant. "do you trust her, sabine?"

"shin?" sabine's brow quirked, chuckling. "she's harmless as a loth kitten. a bit feral, but a kitten, nonetheless."

"did she come with willingly?" ahsoka shifts to face sabine, curious.

sabine shrugs. "only for the night. i don't know about next, but that's a problem for tomorrow." the mandalorian stretches her arms up high, feeling her muscles tightening in coils. "she can have my bunk, i'll sleep at the cockpit."

ahsoka chuckles. "no, you won't. stay with her."

"what do you mean stay with her?" sabine had whipped her head at ahsoka in a speed of light.

"no need to pretend like you don't like staying by her side when you're with me, padawan," ahsoka teases sabine, nudging her shoulder as she heads towards the medbay. her togrutan master had an amused look in her eyes that sabine does not like, and it doesn't help stopping herself from getting flustered. "i'm gonna have a sit down talk with her for a bit."

the medbay door closes, and sabine groans. there's really no arguing with ahsoka at this point, so sabine heads to the bunks to clear out her bunk. she shuts the door to the bunks to change from her jumpsuit to a more casual, loose fitting sleepwear clothes. subconsciously, she draws another pair of light shaded sleepwear clothes for their guest.

sabine gets out of the bunks to grab her bag and unpack her beskar pieces and stores them properly. she scatters her armguards and blasters on the common table, inspecting and polishing her weapons.

she reloaded her blasters with new rounds, and was in the middle of inspecting her armguards when the medbay door hissed open, producing ahsoka and a topless shin, with neatly stitched stomach.

sabine had to forcibly peel her eyes off of shin, and catches ahsoka telling shin, "rest for the night. we can discuss more in the morning."

shin doesn't say much, only nodding at ahsoka. sabine watches as her master gently pats shin's shoulder in a similar gesture as ahsoka always does to sabine. ahsoka heads towards the cockpit and shutting the door, leaving the two padawans in an awkward silence in the common table. huyang had left elsewhere, probably going to low power mode after rebooting the medic droid.

sabine looks at shin, who was already staring at her. the mandalorian leaves her weapons on the common table, grabbing shin by her hands to drag them towards the bunks and shutting the door behind. shin stood like a lost puppy, half naked, so sabine hands her the pair of sleep clothes.

"put these on," sabine instructed, kinking her brows, "what happened to your tunic?"

shin puts on the loose sleeveless shirt, struggling slightly due to the fresh stitches. sabine tries not to think of how adorable shin is with dishevelled hair. "your droid took it to get it cleaned. he insisted."

sabine laughs. "ah, yeah. that's huyang for you."

shin looks around curiously, holding her pauldrons. "where should i put my armour?"

"just put it on the storage compartment over there." sabine yawned, stretching her back. "you go ahead and sleep on my bunk. i'm gonna take the spare."

"and your master?"

"ahsoka? she seems content with sleeping in the cockpit. i don't blame her. she purrs in her sleep."

shin had an incredulous look on her face, but didn't comment on it. she sighs as she strips off her pants to switch into the matching sleep pants sabine gave her, before tucking into sabine's bunk. sabine watches curiously as shin squeezes far into the wall, leaving space beside her, turning to look at sabine expectantly.

"there's more than enough space here."

"what, you want me to sleep with you?"

shin shot her a look. "do not pretend like you weren't considering it. i can still feel your thoughts."

sabine tries to argue, but purses her lips anyway. she huffs, taming down the blush rising on her chest. "fine, alright. stop peeping into my brain."

shin shuffles as sabine lays down beside her, a faint smirk curling up her lips. "i am not. besides, there isn't much to look into anyway."

sabine wanted to say something snarky back at shin, but watching shin with her dishevelled hair and face much too close than sabine expected, she couldn't stop herself from letting her gaze drop to shin's lips. without thinking, sabine caught shin's lips in hers, smirking in satisfaction when shin made a noise akin to a soft mewl. it was swiftly replaced with shin kissing her back hungrily in rushed little pecks.

"eager, aren't we?" sabine mutters in half-whispers against shin's lips, pulling back teasingly when she frustratedly tries to chase sabine's lips. she supressed a moan when one of shin's hands grips at her hip, rewarding the blonde padawan with another kiss and tugs at her now reddening lower lip.

shin doesn't reply verbally, opting to slot one of her thighs between sabine's, humming in satisfaction when the mandalorian instinctively bucked her hips against her. when she spoke again, her voice is husked and low, "you were saying?"

sabine sighed, finding shin's hungry gaze again.

oh, this is definitely going to be a long night.