#so many emotions! this one's a doozy

[gas-station-trackphone]

“I-” Mike starts. He’s still looking at Will’s present from Lucas. He gulps loudly. “Sorry.”

Will can’t look at him. He glances at where Lucas, Max, and El are stacked together, and Max clearly has no idea what’s going on. El shares Mike’s guilty look.

But Lucas. Will can tell with just that glance that he put it together on his own.

--

a followup to (bitter)sweet, ft. the Lucas vs. Mike showdown i didn't get around to in part 1 and more of Will and Lucas being the best friends i know they are

[js-dragonart]

Seeing Ghosts Part II - Betrayal

This was a doozy, honestly. Not only did i choose so many scenes I wanted to include, I also chose the ones that caused me the most emotional damage and spent A LOT of time drawing these. Which means I also spent a lot of time staring at reference pictures of Tom Glynn-Carney's Aegon almost crying and being absolutely miserable.

This is fine.

But I'm pretty happy with the end result, especially the last illustration.

Aemond being out there, putting the "slay" in kinslayer. Have you noticed his speech boxes have turned from white to black to symbolize his "fall to the dark side"? Yes, I know he's killed Lucerys before, but this story is explicitly about his relationship to Aegon.

[imagines--galore]

||The Thread of Fate|| Part Ten

Summary: Soulmate AU. They say the Thread of Fate connects you to your one true love. It may tangle. It may stretch. But it will never break. Wrapped around your little finger it tightens when it feels your soulmate is close and loosens when they are far. And becomes visible with the colors of your soulmate’s Nation when you finally fall in love with them.

Pairing: Zuko x OroraOC (ATLA)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure.

Previous Chapters - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine,

A/N: This one is an absolute doozy! Be prepared for a lot of feels people! And a scene that literally popped up in my head as I wrote this. I dunno I just wanted to include it! Please excuse any mistakes I made!

"This place is huge!"

Thats it. Those were the only words Orora could think of to describe Ba Sing Se.

Once they had crossed the Inner Wall she had felt her mouth open in amazement. Rows and rows of houses, as far as the eye could see. The chatter of more then a thousand people echoing in the air as they went about their daily lives. She had never seen so many people in one place. Not even the Northern Water Tribe had this much population.

Iroh chuckled beside her, amused by her reaction. "That is an apt description for it, my dear." They had stepped onto the platform, after making sure they had their belongings with them. They were really only small packs containing objects that had some sort of sentimental value. And money of course.

"Woah!" The young waterbender breathed as she gazed around from the raised platform they were standing on. The wind played gently with her hair, prompting her to push the strands behind her ears. Iroh stood just beside her while Zuko stood on the opposite side. He hadn't said anything the entire train ride, though she knew he had been just as amazed by the sheer magnitude of the city as she was. His eyes had widened slightly. A rather subtle movement, but then again she had started to notice everything subtle about him.

Only because of her observation of him. And not because she had stared at him out of the corner of her eyes on more then one occasion.

"Now! The first thing we should do is get some clothes. After all we are no longer refugees but citizens of Ba Sing Se." Iroh stated, leading the way down the platform with the two teenagers following after him.

"I'll have to find some work to earn money for that." Orora muttered to herself, thinking back on just how little coin she had left. Iroh turned to her, frowning. "And what makes you think I will not buy clothes for you as well my young pupil?"

She stopped short, prompting Zuko to almost walk into her. Orora ignored the glare he threw in her direction as she blinked at her smiling Master.

"Y-you..." She trailed off unable to find words. Iroh's expression turned to one Orora had seem him give Zuko when comforting him. "You are my responsibility Orora, and I care for you just as much as I do my nephew."

They were standing together, the three of them, with Iroh and Orora facing one another and Zuko standing to the side. His attention had been at a nearby weapons shop but a soft sound had him turning his head to look at Orora.

She had a tight grip on the strap of her water satchel, as if to keep her hands from trembling. But that was not what caught his attention. It was the fact that for once her icy blue eyes had a warmth to them he had never seen before. And they were swimming with tears. The soft sound he had heard, was her giving a small gasp as she tried to control her emotions.

Though she was failing at it, because even as he watched, a tear escaped her eye, sliding down her cheek.

Crying people had always been a weakness of his. He had no idea how to deal with them. Crying girls was even worse. But seeing Orora cry, at something so insignificant as his Uncle buying her clothes, had him feeling equal parts awkward and..........concerned.

Laughing softly to himself, Iroh reached out to take her still trembling hand and placed a pouch of coins in it. "Why don't you go ahead and buy your clothes my dear? I'm sure we will all benefit from having a pretty young maid such as yourself as our companion eh Zuko?" That last part was directed at him, prompting the banished prince to snap out of his stupor and stare stupidly at his Uncle.

"Wh-what?" But neither Pupil nor Master heard him as Orora quickly engulfed the old man in an embrace that reminded Iroh of the ones his son would give him as a young boy.

"Thank you...........Uncle." If he was surprised at her calling him that he did not show it. Though he did show his pleasure at being called thusly by her. "Now go buy your new clothes and do something about your hair. I shall meet you both here in two hours. And you also buy anything that catches your fancy."

"Wait! Both?" Zuko barked out. Iroh nodded. "Yes both. This city can be dangerous my boy. Especially for a young lady. And though I know she can protect herself, I would much rather she have you with her. For my peace of mind." He finished giving his nephew a look that clearly said, do not argue.

Pursing his lips, Zuko gave a small nod. Though there was no pleasure in his stance as he took his own pouch of coins from Iroh. "Enjoy yourselves then."

With a cheerful wave and a wink he was off to do his own shopping.

Zuko sighed to himself, pocketing his pouch and turning to Orora who was now tear free and already looking around at the different shops on either side of them.

Good, he preferred her tear-free.

Shaking his head, he pursed his lips before speaking.

"Come on. I think we can find a shop that sells clothes for us both." He had already started to move, prompting Orora to follow him with quick steps to catch up.

While Zuko had been of the opinion that their impromptu shopping spree would be awkward, it was anything but. Orora having never been in a city before, was flitting from one stall to the next shop. Eagerly pouring over the wares the shop keepers were selling, though she didn't buy them. Zuko was left to follow after her, trying to keep up with her surprisingly fast pace.

"Would you slow down!" He finally puffed out after loosing sight of her for a good few minutes, nearly making him panic before he had caught sight of her entering a weapons shop. She turned to look at him, a slightly apologetic look on her face.

"Sorry, I'll try to slow down but I just saw these and they reminded me of the swords you had when we met in the forest." Zuko looked to where she was pointing. And indeed it was a pair of dao swords, much like the ones that had been confiscated from him a good while ago.

Apparently there was a strict rule of no bringing weapons into Ba Sing Se. However you could buy them once you were inside.

A stupid rule really.

Still he had managed to hide the dagger Uncle had given him, but the swords had to go.

"They do look the same." He agreed with her. Before he could stop her, Orora had reached out and was lifting both of the swords from the stand and holding them out for him. "Well try them out. If its a good fit then you can buy them." She suggested giving him a small smile.

Maybe it was the fact that they were back in civilization. Or perhaps it was the interaction she had had with Iroh that had resulted in her being in a pleasant mood. Whatever it was, she had no desire to ruin it by squabbling with Zuko. Besides it wasn't that difficult to be nice to him.

Zuko glanced at her briefly, before reaching out to grasp the handle of the swords. His fingers briefly brushed against Orora's prompting them both to freeze momentarily. But he quickly shook off the feeling, turning his attention to the swords.

The weight was perfect as was the balance. Obviously they were of fine craftsmanship. Feeling that familiarity one felt when picking up a weapon they knew, Zuko swung them around to test further. After a couple more swings he stopped, seemingly satisfied.

Lifting one of the swords to eye level, he stared at the blade, watching his reflection stare back. "Well? What do you think?" Tilting the blade slightly he was able to catch a glimpse of Orora as she stood behind him.

Maybe it was the familiarity of the swords, or perhaps it was the soft yet hopeful look that he caught in Orora's expression which made him give a small nod.

"They're perfect."

                                           ————————–

The next step was finding new clothes.

And as soon as they entered the shop each teenager was whisked away by an employee. Orora was guided towards the female section of the shop, while Zuko went the opposite way.

A little annoying since he was supposed to be keeping an eye on her. However he did keep a sharp ear out, in case she called out for help. He made no complaint as the shop assistant began to pull out clothes that would be perfect for someone his size. Zuko stared dismally at the various shades of browns and greens that greeted him. He missed the red, black and gold colors of his Nation. For a brief moment he wandered if he would ever get to wear them again.

The thought had a sting of bitterness running through him, prompting him to pick out the first garment the assistant showed him. And he would've bought it as it was if the Assistant hadn't insisted that he alter it to his size. Something about the shop not looking good if he sold frumpy looking clothing. It would take some time though, so Zuko marched to the entrance of the shop to sit in one of the waiting chairs.

With his arms crossed and a grumpy expression on his face, any passerby would assume he was there against his will.

While Zuko seemed to be having a miserable time, Orora was having the time of her life. She had always adored dressing up, as typically feminine as it was and while she would've preferred to dress in the blue of her Nation, she wasn't opposed to wearing green so long as it got her out of her baggy clothing. She figured she didn't have to hide the fact that she was a girl in the city so, why not go all out?

"This color would look lovely against your complexion." The assistant, who had introduced herself as Hana, placed the green fabric against her shoulder to better assess the color alongside her skin. Like any member of the Water Tribe, Orora's complexion was darker then of those around her. And given that she had been traveling under the sun for so long, it had only darkened more. The color did stand out, and the fabric was so soft.

The young waterbender hummed. "Well I have an idea in mind. If I could explain it to you, would you be able to find something for me?" Hana grinned. "Its always good to have a customer who knows exactly what they want." She praised, picking up a writing utensil and paper to write down Orora's instructions.

"What did you have in mind?" She asked, looking like a woman on a mission. Orora grinned.

                                           ————————–

Fifteen minutes later, she walked towards the waiting area with Hana beside her.

"We have everything you just asked for Orora. I just have to alter it to your measurements, but that won't take long." Hana said with a reassuring smile to which Orora nodded. "Thank you for all your help Hana. If I may ask for one small request."

So saying, she quickly darted forward grabbing Zuko by the arm, and pulling him from his chair to stand beside her. Zuko, who had been busy examining his new swords, and pretending not to eavesdrop, was more so surprised at the sudden motion that there was no resistance on his part.

"My friend and I have to be at a dinner party tonight, but we do not have a place to bath or clean up. Do you know any bath houses around here?"

There was no way she was about to wear her new clothes without cleaning herself up first. She hadn't had a chance to bathe since the desert, a thought that had her shivering in disgust. Zuko glanced at her. "Is that your subtle way of saying I stink?" He asked to which Orora smirked.

"Subtle? I must be loosing my touch. I meant it to be more direct." She grinned at him before turning her attention back to the softly laughing Hana. "Luckily for you two my brother owns a bath house. And it is not so far from here." She moved to the door, gesturing for the duo to follow. "Just go down this street then take a right. First door on the left." She instructed. "I shall have both of your clothes delivered there within the hour."

"Thank you." The ever polite Orora said, even as she poked her elbow into Zuko's stomach to remind him to do the same. He did so, albeit in a rather grumpy manner. Still it was better or nothing.

Once they had paid for their clothes, the two set off down the street as Hana had instructed.

"You know we could've cleaned up at the new place we will be staying at." Zuko suggested, to which Orora gave him a disgusted look. "Zuko, we're filthy. We've been traveling for days. If you want to wait and dirty your new clothes, go right ahead." She made a hand gesture to that effect, but s topped midway as her blue eyes caught sight of something.

Zuko followed her line of sight and groaned loudly. "I have to buy one more thing." So saying Orora quickly made her way to the display of pretty hair accessories that had caught her eye. She yanked Zuko along with her, not having dropped the hold she had on his arm where she had looped it through his earlier.

A fact that neither of the them noticed.

At least Orora wasn't like other girls who would spend hours poring over pretty trinkets only to not buy them in the end. It wasn't even ten minutes later that they were once again making their way towards the bath houses, with Orora admiring the new hair comb she had bought.

"Isn't it pretty?" She sighed, watching how the blue stone set in the middle of the comb caught the mid-morning sunlight and shimmered beautifully. "And its so detailed, just look at the dragon." She held it to his eye level. He gave it a brief once over and, reluctantly, nodded. It was a pretty piece of jewelry there was no denying that.

"I thought I should get something blue to represent my Nation." Tucking away the comb in her pouch. Glancing up she saw him clench his jaw even tighter. At this rate he would grind his teeth to dust. "Maybe you should do the same?" She suggested her voice soft as they reached the bath houses.

His gaze snapped in her direction, startled and surprised. That was certainly not what he had been expecting her to say. Glancing around from the corner of her eye, Orora met his gaze with a look of understanding. Reaching out, almost hesitantly, she grasped his wrist, stepping forward so she could whisper the next words to him. "I don't condone what they have done. But they are still your people, and I know you miss your home."

She had to lift herself up on her toes slightly to be able to whisper to him properly. The action allowed the front of her chest to press against his slightly. To any onlooker it would look to be nothing more then a lover's embrace. To Zuko, the barely there embrace, was one of comfort. Something he did not realize he had needed for so long. He closed his eyes, but only briefly, before he gave Orora a small nod. While he wouldn't voice his appreciation for her act, he could acknowledge it.

Orora smiled softly before she stepped back. Turning she quickly walked into the bath house, and after a moment Zuko followed.

                                           ————————–

Steam curled from the water as Orora stepped into the square space in a robe, having gotten rid of her clothes as soon as she could. Locking the door securely behind her, she turned her attention to the tub in the middle of the room. It was just big enough for her so she eagerly shrugged off the robe and settled into the warm water. A sigh of utter contentment fell from her lips, feeling a sense of comfort as the water surrounded her. Quickly submerging her head, the girl picked up the sweet scented soap that had been left for her and began to scrub her hair and body. The water itself had some sweet smelling oils in them, and if it were up to her, she would stay there for hours.

Once done cleaning herself, she bended the water separating whatever dirt she had scrubbed off herself. Casting the dirt aside, she allowed the water to settle back down into the tub. Orora had barely leaned back to rest her head against the back of the tub when the sound of voices from the other side of the wall had her listening in curiously.

"You can wash up here." Said an unfamiliar voice. She heard the sound of a door opening on the other side. Make sense that the room next to her was also a bathroom. "I'll leave your clothes outside the door once they arrive."

"Thank you!"

The waterbender sat up straight, water sloshing around her as a small squeak of surprise fell from her lips. A sound the echoed in the otherwise quiet space, and since the wall on her left had more then ample space between itself and the ceiling, it was clearly heard by the person who had just entered the bathing chamber on the other side.

"Orora?"

It was Zuko.

Spirits help her! Zuko was in the room next to her own.

The thought alone had a blush stealing across her cheeks, and she could feel it as it traveled down her neck to her shoulders. How that was even possible she had no idea.

"Orora is something wrong?" His voice sounded closer now, like he was standing right next to the wall. And his voice sounded urgent. Clearing her throat she shook her head, even though he couldn't see her. "No, no everything is fine." Her voice sounded strange even to her ears.

On the other side of the wall, Zuko's brief flash of panic dissipated and the reality of the situation started to set in. He blushed just as brilliantly as Orora did, a fact that was unknown to both of them.

"I'm going to ask for another chamber." Zuko stated, already moving towards the door. The sound of water reached his ears followed by a two words that made his heart stop. "No, wait." Silence followed her soft exclamation as he waited for her to continue. Finally, after a rather lengthy silence, in which Orora was berating herself for speaking out like that, she spoke. "These two were the only bath chambers available on such short notice. Not to mention they'll charge extra since they have to warm the water again and get a new chamber ready so just.............stay."

Despite her affirmation and assurance, there was no denying just how awkward the situation was. Orora could hear every splash of water as Zuko settled into his tub, and Zuko was acutely aware of the fact that she could hear everything. So he just decided to sit in the water once he had hastily scrubbed himself clean.

The one fact that neither of them were even allowing themselves to think on was the state of undress they were both in. To distract herself, Orora began to create small patterns using her water bending, while Zuko made the water as hot as possible without letting it evaporate completely.

The silence and the awkwardness of it was slowly grating at Orora's nerves. She had always hated silence, it reminded her too much of the time when she would spent all those hours in her room while her father entertained guests. Why? Because a proper young lady said her greetings before excusing herself to her rooms.

Her patience only last five minutes before she finally snapped. "I believe we have reached a whole new stage of awkwardness then." Zuko didn't respond, though her acute hearing and bending sense did pick up on the water moving. Indeed, Zuko had been a little startled at hearing her voice, having supposed that the two of them would remain quiet for the remainder of their bath.

"And since they can't get any more awkward I'm just going to come out and say something I've been thinking since we reached Ba Sing Se." More silence, and for once Zuko was sure she actually wanted him to speak, as opposed to all the times she had told him to stay quiet.

"Whats that?" His tone was soft and his voice low, matching her in almost perfect pitch as he leaned his head back against the back of the tub, looking at the ceiling above.

"I know that we have a lot of differences between us." The statement had the young prince letting out a small unexpected chuckle. "Thats putting it mildly." He interrupted her, he could practically picture her pursing her lips at being interrupted. "Well yes, but I don't want to make you any angrier then you already ar-"

"Who said I was angry?" Zuko protested, half rising from his position to glare at the wall. Clenching her fists Orora shook away her annoyance before continuing. "As I was saying, I think tha-"

"I can feel other emotions beside anger you know. I'm not angry all the time an-HEY!" His exclamation was followed by a loud splash as the bubble of water Orora had bended over the space between the wall separating them splashed on his head. As Zuko spluttered and shook his hair out of his eyes, she started again.

"I know that we have a lot of differences between us, and that we would never see eye to eye. And I'm sure not a day will go by where you do not vex me, or I annoy you in some form." Hugging her legs to her chest, the young waterbender hoped the Fire Nation prince wouldn't reject her offer of peace.

"But since we will be living together until...........well we don't know when." Zuko's heart twinged at the reminder, but he stayed quiet. "I thought we should have a truce of some kind? Where we don't fight, at least not all the time, and try to get along."

That dreaded silence once more. Though this time it was heavier, weighing down on her just as much as it weighed down on him. She heard him stand up, prompting a sigh of defeat to echo in the two rooms. She could hear him as he opened the door and took his clothes where they rested on the floor. Zuko's mind raced as he dried himself off and began to pull on his new clothes.

After a few minutes, and accepting that perhaps she had humiliated herself enough, the girl quickly stood from her bath tub, bending the water from her body. Her new clothes rested on the floor in front of her door the same as Zuko. She quickly took them inside and unwrapped the items. Despite the sorrow tugging at her heart, she gave a small smile at the sight of her new clothes.

They were perfect.

Neither of them spoke as the dressed. Though Zuko finished first, and quickly exited the chamber. Orora took a few extra minutes, adjusting her clothes properly, before moving to stand in front of the small mirror and combing her hair with her new comb. Picking up a small section of her hair from her temple, she adjusted them so that she could place the hair comb through the strands. Now with the loose unruly tendrils out of her face, she was able to see her face properly in the mirror.

Satisfied with her appearance, she exited the bath just as she finished adjusting her water satchel, and promptly bumped into Zuko who had been standing right outside her door.

Her hands came up to steady herself, which he quickly caught to keep her from falling. Whatever insult that had been about to fall from her lips vanished when she saw who she had walked into.

Ice blue eyes widened, as she took in his newly dressed state. The clothing suited him, but what caught her eye in particular was how long his hair had gotten and how the strands at the front fell over his forehead. She had to physically restrain herself from reaching out and pushing them back. Not only because she wanted to feel how soft his hair was, but also because she wanted to see his pretty gold eyes properly.

Eyes that were now taking her in. The first time Zuko had met her she had been wearing her blue parka that had been blood stained and rumpled from her run in with the Fire Nation soldiers. Other then that, he had only seen her in shapeless short kimonos and pants that were dull in color and hid the fact that she was a girl.

The outfit she wore now did not hide any aspect of her being a girl at all.

She had opted for a light green Cheong dress with no sleeves to allow her arms to move better. The shirt she wore under it had long sleeves though, sitting snugly against her skin. The sides of the dress opened starting from her hips down the entire length of the dress which stopped a few inches below her knees. The edges of the dress had a pretty swirling design to add a hint of flare to it. Underneath it she had chosen a pair of pants that was dark green, the ends of which was tucked into her new leather calf length shoes.

She had styled her clothes exactly like the fashion of her Nation, except in green and lighter in material.

It had been perfect, though the dress was still a little loose on her. So Orora had taken the green sash the garments had come tied in and wrapped it around her waist. Not only did the dress look much better, but the belt accentuated her waist and made her look almost as if her body had an hourglass shape.

And while Orora was not the most vain girl, she did like looking pretty.

And for once, after so many months, she looked, smelled and felt pretty.

And Zuko was acutely aware of all three facts as he continued to stare at her. It wasn't unnerving in any form. There was no malice in his eyes. Only an emotion that she had never seen on his face before. Which was why she was having a hard time to place it.

She could puzzle over it later, she figured as Zuko released her hands and stepped back. Blue met gold before the latter disappeared behind closed lids briefly. But once they opened, there was a determined look in them.

And Orora saw the reason for it when her eyes dropped to the hand he held out to her. A beat of silence, in which Orora felt her breath hitch in her throat and a bright smile to bloom across her face as she reached out to grasp his hand between both of her own. And this time, when blue met gold, Zuko gave a small smile back.

"Truce."

                                           ————————–

The two teenagers had barely reached their destination when Iroh suddenly appeared at their side. Holding a vase full of flowers.

"I just want our place to look nice, after all, we have a rather pretty young lady living with us, do we not?" He gave Zuko a nudge with his elbow, though his smile was directed at Orora who blushed and smiled in return.

"You look lovely my dear." He complimented, though it would seem Zuko had reverted back to his moody self as he spoke. "This city is a prison. I don't want to make a life here." He sounded so bleak and hopeless about his situation that Orora frowned.

"We don't have a choice." She kept her voice soft so that no one would overhear her. "This was the only way to ensure our survival in the long run."

Iroh, sensing his pupil's rising annoyance with his nephew, quickly spoke. "Life happens wherever you are, whether you make it or not." Without pausing for breath he continued. "Now come on, I found us some new jobs, and we start this afternoon!"

Zuko stopped short, staring in disbelief. "A job?!"

Orora snorted to herself, clapping a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing, earning a glare from Zuko. Watching a Prince who had probably never worked a day in his life do an actual job?!

Oh, she was in for a treat, she thought smiling wickedly.

                                          ————————–

It came as no surprise when Iroh led them to a tea shop.

"And here I was thinking you had gotten a job at an apothecary shop." The young waterbender teased as she followed after her Master. Iroh simply grinned in reply. The two of them didn't bother to see if Zuko followed. He stood outside the shop, staring glumly at it before heaving a resigned sigh and following after his two companions.

It wasn't long before Pao, the shop owner, had handed them matching aprons and was telling them everything they needed to know about the shop. He prattled on as Orora finished tying the string behind her back.

"Argh, ridiculous." Zuko muttered under his breath, looking just as annoyed as he sounded. Orora nudged him with her elbow where she stood at his side. "Be grateful that we will have a steady income. Do you even know how hard it is to get a job in such a big city?"

He turned to glare at her. "This is humiliating. I'm not meant to be working as a servant. I'm supposed to have people working for me." He gritted through clenched teeth.

The girl gave him an unimpressed look. "Well I'm not meant to be here at all. I'm supposed to be married by now and living a miserable life." She caught sight of the surprised look that crossed his features, but continued to speak. "I wouldn't trade my current predicament for anything in the world." With that she turned her attention to the shop owner, who was still speaking with Iroh.

After a good few minutes of feeling Zuko's stare at her, she looked at him, raising her eyebrow in question. "You were supposed to get married?" His voice sounded hoarse and strange, even to his own ears. Orora nodded before giving a shrug. "It was arranged by my father. I had no say in it." She stated shortly, her eyes flashing with that iciness that served as a reminder to him to never cross her.

"Uh, does this possibly come in a larger size?" Iroh, who had been struggling to tie his apron finally spoke up. Pao gave a nod. "I have extra string in the back. Have some tea while you wait!" Before leaving he quickly poured hot tea into three cups and handed them out to his new employees.

Orora glanced down at the contents of her cup, making a face at the questionable color of the liquid. Iroh seemed to share her sentiment since he barely took a sip of it before his face contorted to one of disgust. He held the cup away from his body, as if it had done him some personal offense. "Blech! This tea is nothing more than hot leaf juice!" He declared. Zuko gave his Uncle a dead-panned look. "Uncle, that's what all tea is."

But the old man wasn't having it as he gave a look of utter disappointment and heartbreak. "How could a member of my own family say something so horrible?!" He exclaimed before a look of determination crossed his face. "We'll have to make some major changes around here."

"Well lets hope our boss doesn't fire us for taking over his shop." Orora stated softly, setting aside her cup and glancing around the bare shop.

"Though this place could do with some decorating."

Zuko groaned. Between Iroh's fanatic obsession with tea, and Orora's stubbornness to get her own way, he knew he was going to have his hands full.

                                          ————————–

Tag List - @wavesofchaos​ @violet-potter​ @rennysketch​ @emma-andrea1 @lovesammikinzz @fuzzyfestcat @msrawog @notsaelty

[umbralreaver]

This Ritalin stuff sure is a doozy! I just spent all day imagining a Magic the Gathering set that returns to Kamigawa five or so years post-invasion.

Ahem...

KAMIGAWA: PHYREXIA'S WAKE

With the destruction of Boseiju into a lake of glistening oil and Phyrexian wreckage, life in Kamigawa has been hard. The kami once common have largely diminished and retreated to the merge gates. Much of the city of Towashi is still scarred both structurally and spiritually by the invasion. The strength of the Imperial Court is weakened and the more opportunistic factions such as the Futurists have taken power.

Norn is dead. Phyrexia is gone. Its legacy remains.

The oil, still spilling from the husk of the great tree of life, no longer holds that malevolent potency it was feared for. But that does not mean it is worthless. Whether by some quirk of the plane or directly due to its infection of Boseiju, the oil of Kamigawa still has one very active property:

It can meld flesh and machine.

Survivors of the war who were grievously wounded, especially those living amidst the most devastated ruins at the base of Boseiju, found they could mend their wounds with Phyrexian salvage and dose themselves with oil to will the machinery to join with them as if it were there own flesh. it could unite them with native Kamigawan technology as well, but such things were not easily had by the poor and rejected. The dross of invasion, however, was easy to acquire.

Soon others, the ignorant or intrepid, sought out the oil's miraculous properties to mend themselves or even just enact alterations, to become other than what they were and achieve long-impossible desires. An underground culture of mending, alteration and transfiguration sprang up amongst the broken roots of She Who Shelters All.

Even in death, she sheltered them still.

It was not long before the officials of the Imperial Court took action and sealed off access to the site of the tree. Collection and use of the oil was outlawed. Fear of a 'Third Phyrexia' bloomed in the population and the Imperials harnessed that emotion in the formation of a new anti-technology sentiment.

The Futurists did not take that idly. They found an opportunity in the Imperials being stretched thin, offering to use their superior capabilities to locate, secure and quarantine all artifacts and materials of Phyrexia. They promised nobody would be infected under their watch. Such things did still have to be studied and learned from, of course.

Meanwhile, the trickles of oil in the gutters of the undercity carried the glimmers of the great tree's vital essence to the most unlikely recipients.

The Phyrexians awoke from their torpor. Not many at first, and in such mangled and ruined states that it took them some time to regather themselves in the darkness beneath. They were different now, their minds unshackled from the will of the ancient dead god Yawgmoth and the pretender Elesh Norn. Even unbound from evil, this world would surely hate them for what they were. They had to find new ways to survive.

Kamigawa is changing. There wis no going back.

THE MAJOR FACTIONS OF KAMIGAWA: PHYREXIA'S WAKE

THE KAMIGAWA PRESERVATION AUTHORITY

( Primary White, Secondary Blue and Green )

Led by the Imperial Court, the Preservation Authority is a mandate to protect the citizens of Kamigawa from any remaining Phyrexian influence. Their goal is to secure peace in the city and ensure justice is brought against all who dabble in the illegal and corrupt. Fear is a strong component of the Preserver mentality, a fear of the new and the different and the unknown. Amongst their officials, many still wish they could cut down the Futurists and return Kamigawa to the good old days.

This will, of course, mean getting rid of all that have embraced the 'unnatural'.

THE BOSEIJU DISTRICT CONTAINMENT COMMISSION

( Primary Blue, Secondary White and Black )

The Saiba Futurists, in collaboration with other technologists and artificers, gained the right to establish the BDCC and to collect and lock away any trace of Phyrexian presence. After Otawara was crashed into the surface of the planet during the invasion, they have dug a new headquarters with countless layers of laboratories and vaults. Outwardly, the goal of the Commission is to sequester away every scrap of Phyrexia away in those vaults never to be seen again. Covertly, many of them desire the alien technology for study to fuel their own advancement and profits.

They are nominally working for the Preservers, at least until they are powerful enough to shuck off the need for their approval.

THE REMNANT ARMY OF PHYREXIA

( Primary Black, Secondary Blue and Red )

The oil of broken Boseiju found its way through the crevices and cracks in the city, pooling in the lowest places where the trash and refuse gathered. Amongst that detritus, the blasted and ruined husks of the warriors of the invasion. The oil woke them to free will, but for some that ancient loyalty runs deeper than mere phyresis. They are true believers. With otherworldly hatred they plot in the dark, gathering more wrecks and relics to revive and swell their numbers. Their goal is to undermine the city until they can take the site of Boseiju with violent force, and from there forge a Third Phyrexia.

No strangers to subterfuge, some Remnants collude with the Commission, trading artifacts and secret knowledge for the Commission's aid.

THE AUGMENTED

( Primary Red, Secondary Green and Black )

The oil no longer has an intelligence guiding it. It forever awaits a signal, and the great tree gave it that tiniest of sparks: A command of life. Nothing more. With that faint motivation reenabling some of the oil's functions, the Augmented use it to join themselves to whatever technology they can find in the ruins left by the invasion. Many of them are war veterans, missing limbs or wounded in ways that makes life difficult. With oil-based augmentation, they can find dignity again. Joining them is the growing transmog community, those that find expression and freedom in changing their forms, using the miracle of the oil to shape themselves as they desire. Above all, the Augmented wish for respect, to protect each other, and to live free.

Sometimes, even sadly often, that means violence against those that would oppress or exploit them.

THE FREE COMPLEATED

(Primary Green, Secondary White and Red )

Not all of the reawakened Phyrexians kept their loyalty to a failed invasion. Alive again and able to think their own thoughts, the Free Compleated want nothing to do with the loyalists. They are outcasts, hated for what they represent even though they had no choice. They were prisoners in bodies not their own. Now, they carry the last wish of Boseiju and just want to live. The Free Compleated struggle to survive in the same darkness as their cruel kin, competing over Phyrexian wrecks to revive with oil, wishing always to meet with a new friend and not an enemy.

The Free Compleated are veterans of a war they never asked to fight, indelibly marked as monsters and yet they still seek hope.

A note:

This work imagines a post-invasion world where the consequences are not so easily swept under the rug or handwaved with a brief interlude. A few things are core to the understanding of this idea. Here, being 'compleated' is a tragedy (if unwilling), the greatest tragedy being that it overrides a subject's mind with the lingering evil of Yawgmoth. When that override is removed, what remains? This time, there is no easy zappo and you're back to good old flesh and blood.

Furthermore, the oil itself is no longer evil. Nothing of its old malice remains. Indeed, to reinforce this point its directive is replaced by a last sliver of the will the great spirit tree. Boseiju, who shelters all, welcomes even those lost Phyrexians. The Augmented, too, despite the fearmongering, are not 'meddling in dark and forbidden arts'. Through the oil Boseiju's last wish passes to them as well, so they may live.

The oil can no longer cause phyresis. That power was lost with Phyrexia. All that remains is the power to give life to technology, whether it be the cold husks of invaders or new machinery melded to the stumps of amputees.

If I were to write a story based on this, it's pretty obvious at this point that it would be an allegory for the plight of war veterans, the disabled, transgender people and other marginalised groups under a society that either wants to either destroy them or twist them to its own malign purposes.

I wrote all this in something of a buzz. I'm new to these meds. Seems good though! That said, it's likely (perhaps even certain) that I've overlooked things I should really consider when planning this out (if I end up doing more).

Feel free to let me know!

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe Rating: Teen Audiences Words: 1.3K~ Summary: “So, wait— what you’re saying is that you want me… to glow for you—?” In which a drowsy, throwaway comment inspires Steven to— fueled by Connie’s implicit trust and encouragement— test the very limits of his self-restraint.

@glowweek

Suuuuper late, but this one was inspired by this event's "Glow or Dark" prompts. I utilized both of the themes in this work.

Essentially, this story is me going "but what if Steven could enter pink mode but on his own terms and with Healthy emotions?" Steven and Connie are 22 and 21 respectively, here. This is the furthest in their future I've posted a work covering so far, ahah.

Enjoy!

__

“Y’know, it’s kinda a shame you only glow when you’re really, really stressed out,” Connie murmurs out of nowhere that night, nuzzling herself even further into his side. “I bet you’d make for a nice nightlight.”

“Wait, what?” Steven responds, his words punctuated by a sudden peel of bemused laughter. He props himself up in their bed, scooting apart from her wanting embrace (she gives a pitiful but very cute little whine at this, still half-asleep) so he can actually turn to meet her eyes. “Where’s this coming from?”

If he fully understands the underlying question in his fiancé’s drowsy doozy of a comment— a comment he doubts she’d ever make while awake and alert— then she’s probably inquiring about why he never consciously utilizes even half the full potential of his power, not even recreationally.

And if he’s honest, it’s a fair question. He’s been somewhat neglecting this part of himself ever since he moved in with her late last year.

After all, it’s not like there’s much practical use for many of his abilities anymore. There’s no battles left to fight. No empires left to dismantle. No need to host those monthly healing sessions he used to organize ever since he and the Gems bottled a large stock of his saliva for long term use. It’s nice, in a way. It’s like an extended vacation from all the stressors of this facet of his existence. Instead, he’s been able to focus all his time and energy on other stuff— like finally finishing his GED, pursuing enrollment in some community college courses for the fun of learning itself, and doing some experimentation with some new instruments he’s never played. 

Little things.

Human things.

That glowing she speaks of, though…

The remnants of laughter fade from his lips as he refocuses on this topic.

He hasn’t snapped pink in weeks. It’s the longest period that’s passed without a flare up since that month his gem fell into an energy conserving stasis immediately following his meltdown in his teen years. So why is she bringing this up now? 

What’s really on her mind?

He asks as such.

This appeal for emotional honesty seems to jostle Connie out of the brunt of her drowsiness. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes with the furthest edge of her knuckles and then parts her lips again.

“It’s just… you never use your powers anymore,” she says, her brow creasing inwards. “Any of them. And of course I understand why, but…”

“But—?”

“But sometimes… I wish things weren’t so muddled for you. That you felt free to express yourself as both a human and a Gem in this space.”

His brows thread together as he considers all this, his confusion-addled brain looping right back to the throwaway, sleepy statement that hurtled this whole conversation into being in the first place. “So, wait— what you’re saying is that you want me… to glow for you—?”

Connie snorts. “Well, my actual want is a little more nuanced, but sure. We’ll go with that as a shorthand.” 

“And you do know my powers are, uh… extra volatile when I’m in that state, right?” 

Her lithe fingers glide their way across the subtle peaks and valleys of his inner wrist. Caught amidst the thorny brambles of his anxiety, such feather light skin contact is grounding. 

Mesmerizing.

“Nothing you do could ever truly scare me,” she reminds him, the calloused contours of her hand dancing along every last edge and sweeping curve of the lines etched into his broad palm.

Steven hums, the latent tension in his form unraveling under the spell of his fiancé’s gentle affection.

And with the loving encouragement of her words echoing like a fleeting melody within the drowsy, wandering neurotransmissions of his consciousness comes a sudden thought:

Can he glow pink on demand?

Is it even possible for him to wrest conscious control of this ability? To find a healthy means of tapping into that vast sum of energy lying dormant in his gem without trudging through the burdens of anger, misery, or fear?

Are these diamond powers something he could one day reclaim for good?

His eyelids flutter shut. Inhaling with a deep-rooted purpose and focusing inwards on the familiar, dual sensations of his partner’s knowing touch and his gem’s constant, faint vibrations, he reflects upon the broad menagerie of feelings and emotional states that govern his other abilities: 

Responsibility.

Joy.

Compassion.

Grief.

Love.

If he’s intending to tap into this well by choice… to summon this strength and glow for his Connie… what kind of emotion does he wish to anchor himself with?

Nothing you do could ever truly scare me, her promise rings in his ears once again. 

The sentiment flows through his veins like sweet nectar, a healing magic all its own.

Trust.

That’s it. Connie trusts him implicitly— without question, without resolve.

So maybe it’s time he finally grapples with all the facets of his identity he’s long neglected and starts to trust himself, too.

Confident in his decision to at least try, he entwines their fingers together, expressing his endearment through a quick triple squeeze.

Okay. 

Okay…

Deep breath, Steven. Deep breath. You’re home. You’re safe. You can pull back whenever you want. YOU are in control.

With one final shaky inhale, he opens his mind to the potent sum of energy swirling within the fathomless layers of his gem.

That familiar glow blooms from his cheeks on command, spreading across the entire span of his body in but a split second and casting their bedroom in a soft, tranquil, shadow-casting pink. It’s almost like flipping a light switch— which makes Connie’s earlier comparison all the more amusing. He can’t help but let out a quavering laugh of relief at his victory, meeting his partner’s eyes as he revels in the sweet euphoria of everything this accomplishment means for him as both a gem and a human being. 

Her gaze surges with a wealth of pride and warmth while she drinks in the sight. Flashing him a teasing smile, she dances her hand up the length of his arm and towards his center, splaying her fingers wide across his bare chest, right over his heart. Steven’s breath hitches. Such tactile sensations seem far more sensitive in this state than they are for him normally. The sheer memory of her touch buzzes at his core like a giddy swarm of butterflies in his stomach, each and every minuscule shift in her contact commanding his full attention.

It’s a beautiful moment— and there’s a small segment of him that wishes it could linger just a while longer— but that damned logic within his mind recognizes it’s smarter to pull back now rather than cling to such a fickle surge of power a second too long and risk potential disaster. No matter how much fulfillment swells within his soul for what he’s achieved here, this ability is still untrained… unrefined. Tonight’s accomplishment is only the beginning of his journey to reclaim it.

He exhales slow and steady, willing that glimmering pink pallor to sink back into his hard-light veins. Their room grows dark once more. His gem’s once fervent hum fades into a hushed murmur. A relieved, watery smile stretches across his cheeks as he feels all the lingering remnants of that energy dissipate right alongside his fading adrenaline. 

Her head tilting with ample curiosity as she regards him, Connie shifts her hold to his shoulder. “And how did that feel?”

“Not as scary as I thought it’d be,” he admits with a shrug, carding his hand through his curls.  

She smiles. “Good.“

Pulling their bodies flush, she plants a swift, tender kiss upon his lips. (Always a treasure to savor, no matter how fleeting the circumstances.) Then, leading by example, she tucks herself back under the covers, patting the adjacent pillow in invitation. 

Entirely smitten, Steven follows in turn.

“Anyways, as usual I was completely right,” she says, nestling herself against his side once more.

His brows raises, an amused chuckle rumbling in his chest. “About—?”

Grinning, she reaches up boop the tip of his nose.

“You do make for a beautiful nightlight, silly.”

[tightjeansjavi]

Jail Bird | Joel Miller x smuggler/raider f! reader | part 2

“All I’ve Ever Known Is You”

A/N: and so we have reached the conclusion of this tragic story of unrequited love. I warned y’all earlier that this would be a doozy. Tread carefully.

~word count: 2.4k~

Summary: Joel Miller refuses to let you go, and it proves to be a costly choice.

Warnings: major character death, depictions of violence, fatal gunshot, angst, grief, regret, emotional manipulation, mentions of blood, stalking, refusal to let a person go, anger, stubbornness, obsession, unrequited love, pining, possessive behavior, actions have consequences, lots of imagery used, dark themes, Joel is an emotional mess, protective! Joel, darkish! Joel, grieving! Joel, sprinkle of PTSD from the night Sarah died, this content may be disturbing for some viewers. Please read the warnings carefully, and do not proceed if this sort of content upsets you. +18 minors dni!

Cornered: (of a person or animal) forced into a place or situation from which it is hard to escape.

"nothing is more dangerous than a cornered wild beast"

Joel had no recollection of how many hours had passed since you locked him away in this cell. He should have known better than to trust you. He beat himself up over the fact that he let his guard down that easily. What the fuck was he thinking? You kissed him and suddenly nothing else mattered. He should have sensed you were going to trick him. Maybe if his mind wasn’t so clouded, he would have stopped you when he still had the chance.

“What do you mean you don’t know where your brother is, Tommy?” Ellie was walking alongside her uncle from the mess-hall, wrapping her arms tightly around herself to lock out the chill.

“I haven’t seen him in hours El. He’s been actin’ fuckin’ strange these past few days, ever since we brought that woman in from the woods. For all we know, he skipped town or somethin.’”

“My dad wouldn’t just leave without telling one of us. That’s bullshit. Where’s the jail located? Wasn’t he interrogating her or something?” Ellie quickened her pace to keep up with her uncle.

“Yeah, you’re right, kid. He wouldn't skip town like that. That’s unlike my brother, especially now. We’ll go and check the jail and see if he’s there.”

Joel pulled himself up to his feet with a heavy grunt when he heard the main door open with a loud creak. For a split second he thought maybe it was you returning to him, but that sliver of hope was quickly vanquished when Tommy and Ellie came into his peripheral.

“Joel?! What in the hell are you fuckin’ doin’ in there?!” Tommy was already pulling out his spare keys from his pocket and quickly unlocked the cell door. “What the hell happened?!”

Joel looked up with a defeated expression on his face. His eyes were rimmed red with glassy tears pooling in his irises. Ellie was at his side with her arms wrapping around him, hugging him tightly to her. “Dad, what happened?”

Joel leaned into the comforting touch that his daughter unconditionally provided for him. A heavy sigh passed through his cracked lips as his gaze fell upon his younger brother. “She tricked me.” Was all he could utter.

“Tricked you how?” Tommy scrubbed his hand across his face, shaking his head to himself. “She over power you or somethin?’”

“She kissed me, alright? She fuckin’ kissed me..and I fell right into her goddamn trap.” Joel’s tone was bitter, laced with frustration as Ellie helped him to his feet.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me right now Joel? How long ago was this?”

“A few hours ago? I don’t know. She just fuckin’ locked me in here and ran. I told you when we brought her in that we have..history. I know I shouldn’t have let my guard down like that but—”

“Yeah you told me that she left you back in the QZ, and you spent all your time fuckin’ lookin’ for her. Maria said one of the horses was stolen right before dinner, so it’s gotta be your jailbird, brother.”

“Will you help me go out there and find her, Tommy? Please? I think she was just scared that somethin’ was gonna happen to her here, and that’s why she ran. If we leave her out there, she’s gonna die. I don’t want that on my conscience.” His arm was lightly draped around Ellie’s shoulders.

“Are you fuckin’—fine. I’ll grab a couple of the guys and we’ll go and look for her. She must mean a lot to ya if you’re willin’ to take these lengths. What’re you gonna do if we find her, and she doesn’t want to come back?” The three of them left the jail cell and treaded back out into the bitter cold.

“I’ll jus’ hav’to find a way to convince her to come back.” Joel stated what he believed to be the obvious. It wasn’t a matter of if he would find you. He would find you, and he’d do whatever it would take to convince you to come home with him.

The horses were saddled up with four men, including Joel and Tommy at the front. Maria told her husband that going after this jailbird was beyond stupid, and he agreed. He just had a rather difficult time telling his brother no after all the years they spent apart. Ellie didn’t like the idea either, but Joel always came back home to her. He always promised to return so this time would be no different as he kissed the top of her head, and smoothed down her hair gently. “Don’t worry about me kiddo. I promise I’ll be home as soon as we find her.”

“I know, Dad. Just be careful, okay?” She hugged him tightly.

“Always am.” Joel promised her.

The further away you were from Joel, and Jackson, the more at peace you began to feel. You didn’t believe that escaping jail would be that easy, but as soon as Joel fell into your perfectly calculated trap, you knew it was your ticket out and that you couldn’t waste another second. You had no idea where you were going to go now, and with darkness falling quickly, it would take a miracle for you to survive the cold cold night that lay ahead.

You had endured worse conditions before, and the chill didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would. You listened to the comforting crunch of snow beneath your horses hooves as your heart thrummed gently in your chest. Joel would have to be a fool to come after you now..or so you thought. Your moment of calm was fiercely destroyed when you heard the thundering of hooves approaching in the distance.

Joel fucking Miller just wouldn’t give up.

You heard him call out your name as a desperate plea through the once still snowy forest. It echoed through the surrounding evergreens, ricocheted off your thundering heart like a pinball machine. You eased your horse into a canter, desperate to escape Joel’s nearing approach.

Please! Please stop runnin’ from me darlin’! I don’t want to chase you, but you're leaving me no other choice!

He was closer now, far too close for comfort.

Your hopes for escape were cut short when your exit route was impassable due to the rushing river that stretched for miles on end. You eased your horse to a halt, frantically looking around as if you were a scared doe being narrowed on by a pack of wolves. The wind howled as you were reaching for your gun just as Joel, Tommy and two other men emerged on horseback through the snowy evergreens.

“Stay back! Stay back or I will fuckin’ shoot!” Your voice trembled like a branch being jostled through a harsh wind. Your finger held steady over the trigger despite your nerves and the frantic look in your eyes.

Joel cautiously dismounted from his horse with his hands above his head to show you that he didn’t come to harm you. He just came to ‘rescue’ you and bring you back home where you belonged. “Easy. Easy. I’m not gonna harm ya darlin.’ Please put the gun down, and then let’s talk. Okay?” His tone was soft, reassuring but it caused bile to rise deep from the pits of your stomach. You didn’t want to go home with him. You wanted to never see Joel Miller ever again.

“Like hell I’m going to put my gun down!” Your horse took a nervous sidestep to the left, nearly slipping into the icy depths below. “You need to fuckin’ let me go, Joel! I don’t want you!” You kept one hand on the trigger as you carefully dismounted from your horse.

“You know I can’t do that darlin.’ You know I can’t. Please just come home with me. We can put this all aside! C’mon. You’ll freeze to death out here.” He pleaded with you with an outstretched hand in your direction.

“I’d rather fucking freeze to death out here than go anywhere with you. Take five steps back right fucking now, or I shoot. Why can’t you just let me go? Why can’t you just fucking move on! I don’t love you, Joel. I never have, and I never will. What we had years ago was good, it was fun, but you’re chasing a fucking ghost. What you want from me is something I am not capable of giving you. You need to move on.” Now you were the one pleading with him. You didn’t want to have to shoot but if it meant that Joel Miller would never be in your life again…

“You don’t love me, sweet girl? That’s bullshit and you know it. All that time we spent together? It meant fuck all to you? I don’t believe it! You’re a terrible fuckin’ liar, and you’re making this way harder than it needs to be! Please, stop fighting me. You’re breakin’ my fuckin’ heart, baby.” He didn’t listen to your demand for him to take five steps back and instead took two cautious steps forward.

“I am NOT your sweet girl! I never was Joel! Stop trying to convince yourself that I have ever cared for you below a surface level! The only liar here is yourself. Now, you can turn around and go home and forget all about me. It’s for your own fucking good. You think that one day I’ll wake up and suddenly develop feelings for you? That’s not how the world works! That’s never how it worked, and you just have to accept that!” You kept the barrel of your gun trained on him as he stepped closer to you.

“Joel, maybe we should just—” Tommy tried to reason with his brother.

“No, Tommy! She’s comin’ home with me one way or a fuckin’ other.” He didn’t even look back at his brother as he took another step forward. His eyes were desperately pleading with you to give in and you truly were beginning to feel like a cornered doe with a pack of vicious wolves caving in.

Closer. Closer. Closer.

You saw Joel reach out to grasp your arm and the second he did, you went to shove him away. Screaming profanities at him with tears stinging your eyes. Your screams died in your raw throat when a gunshot shot rang through the air. It was not your own gun. It all happened so fast as the bullet tore through the flesh of your heart, where Joel had once built a home there. The windows shattered, the wood splintered, and the bed exploded into a cloud of down feathers. The house he forged with his bare hands laid in a pile of ash as you sank to your knees. Dark crimson blood pooled through the layers of clothing on your body as you struggled to take your final breaths.

Everything around you began to grow fuzzy as your lashes fluttered. The sensation of blood draining from your body like the rushing stream was eerily calming. You had never been afraid to die. Not when the world had gone to shit, and everyday could be the day that you would depart the living realm. The once white snow was stained scarlet as you slumped into Joel’s arms with one final breath.

Joel felt his own life flash before his eyes as the bullet tore through your flesh. It all happened so fast and there was nothing he could do to stop it as you slumped into him. He desperately pressed down on the wound as more blood filtered through your body. His hands were stained in it along with his clothes. There was so much blood and so little time. “No no no. Fuck! No. You are not dyin’ on me like this!” He relived images of Sarah dying in his arms flash through his brain as he let out a bone chilling sob.

“Tommy! Help me! Fuckin’ help me!” He finally looked over his shoulder at his brother who could only stare back from where he sat on his horse.

“SOMEBODY FUCKIN’ HELP ME!” He screamed as he clutched your body against his chest, rocking your slumped form as he cried into your cold shoulder.

No one moved a muscle. No one said a word as Joel held you for one last time.

Your body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds as Joel struggled to lift you into his arms. Your eyes forever unmoving, staring up at him with a ghostly film falling upon your once vibrant irises. Your body grew cold. Colder than the temperatures outside and the skin around your lips was fading blue. Your time living on earth's hell hole was over.

“Who fuckin’ shot her.” Joel’s tone was deep and threatening as he trudged through the snow with your deceased form limp in his arms. “WHO FUCKIN’ SHOT HER?!?!” His voice cracked as fresh tears began to fall and land along your icy skin.

“ILL FUCKIN’ KILL—”

Tommy was already hopping down from his horse to attempt to console his wrecked brother.

The man who shot you was known to be trigger happy. He only acted on impulse when you had moved to shove Joel away. He was already riding far far away from the scene when he realized what he had just done.

“GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME TOMMY!” Joel used the strength he had left to shove his brother away from him.

Tommy’s own heart broke when he witnessed Joel struggle to secure your deceased body onto your horse. All the younger Miller Brother could do was watch, and the image that laid before him would never leave his mind.

The only two people to attend your funeral were Joel and Ellie. He dug your grave in the town's cemetery. It took hours due to the ground being so hard and frozen. Ellie was there for emotional support. She might have never met you, but you meant something to her dad, and she wanted to be there for him in those final moments.

He laid your wrapped body into the cold dark earth below. His body had spent all of his tears, but that didn’t stop the physical dry sobs to part from his soul. He pressed a kiss to your covered head, whispering that he would once see you again. Your headstone was hand carved in stone by him, and when it was all said and done, Joel and Ellie stood above your grave, arms wrapped loosely around one another as her head gently rested along his shoulder.

“Who..was she to you, dad?” Ellie softly asked.

Joel slowly looks over at his daughter, his lips curving up into a gentle smile. He inhales, exhales with a puff of cold air departing his lips, “just someone I used to know, a long time ago, kiddo.”

Joel Miller had finally let you go.

Tagging people I think will enjoy! @chaotic-mystery @cavillscurls @morning-star-joy @sinsofsummers @cupofjoel @thetriumphantpanda @dinsdjrn @darkroastjoel @korynnekorynne @kirsteng42

[facelessanimator]

I have so many questions about your Guardian Angel AU

Like I would assume this was after Timmy loses his fairies?

Also what happened to him, like how did he became an angel? Why?

How did the council managed his appearance and what happened when he woke up?

Who assigns him his charges and how exactly his duty as a Guardian Angel works?

Also what happened with his previous life? Like I guess the 500 years coma was in Fairy World years, since he beccomes Hazel's Guardian so on Earth things kept going, what happened with his parents, his friends?

Hoo Boy this is a nice doozy! SO!!

1 and 2: This AU takes place when Timmy is only 17, just One year shy of losing his fairies forever. Unfortunately the combined stressors of: - Knowing He's gonna lose his Fairies. - His parent's neglect becoming worse after age 14 to the point he spends weeks alone. - Cosmo and Wanda talking out loud about properties in Fairyworld they're looking into once they leave. -Francis's bullying taking an even harsher turn to the point Timmy was put in the hospital a few times. - The thought of losing Peri, the only one who took his emotions into mind at all times. and a whole lot more, sadly caused him to become Pataint 0 of a brand new disease that effects mainly godkids.

The Disease was named T.H.S [Timmy's Heart Syndrome], it shares similarities with BrokenHeart Syndrome but it mainly effects godkids who have been subjected to intense amounts of stress due to neglect or bullying. Timmy was affected with all the factors of it, at once, for the length of YEARS, so his death made the disease easier to contract as it sorta evolved.

After his death, Timmy was found, in pretty rough shape, at the rainbow bridge of Fairyworld by random civilians. He was quickly taken to the hospital where it was discovered his rough shape was due to his new wings growing in. Of course something of this magnitude has to be called in. Effectively putting the hospital on lockdown, none allowed to enter without explicit permission from the Council or Jorgen.

The death of a godkid was unheard of.

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

3: Once the Council learned of Timmy's fate, they basically locked the hospital he was at down TIGHT. Nobody outside was allowed to see him and any information of him was swiftly redacted from everywhere, even his Godkid file was sealed under the highest security. Timmy was basically wiped from everywhere in efforts to protect him from the eye of the public and media not even Cosmo, Wanda or Peri know he lives in Fairyworld, and he was put under strict 24/7 monitoring by none other than Jorgen, cause nobody wanna mess with him tbh.

But the news always spreads.

Waking up from his coma was a whole fiasco on its own.

Its a tad bit terrifying going to "sleep" with immense chest pain in your room and suddenly waking back up in FairyWorld with a whole new look and some BIIIIG reserves of magic that you have no idea how to control. Its the main reason Timmy has a halo rather than a crown. The Council and Some very powerful fairies put so much magic into Timmy's halo in an attempt to curb or even completely halt his magic until hes able to control it himself.

Which sorta takes the next 500 years. COUGH

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

4: HIS CHARGESSS!! As before- with his new powers comes with new abilities- and in the beginning his ability led him to kids who were suffering T.H.S at stage 2. His abilities and the spread of the disease made it harder and harder to keep under wraps so the Council decided that a new wing was needed to both study and attempt to stop the spread of the disease. Thus The Guardian Wing of FairyWorld was born. The Council held reign over it for a while, splitting into 2 to lighten the load until a proper Commander could be assigned.

Jorgen and More Higher Ranked Fairies were assigned to train Timmy in how to control his powers, leading to a few unexpected explosions till he managed to get a handle on it.

Lets just say Timmy out of Mortal School was actually a very quick and advanced learner. Advancing through most of his trainings, within the 500 years it took, with efficiency and speed not many fairies possess. Wasn't long before he was advancing through the ranks. TLDR- Timmy is actually the Guardian Commander, most Guardians are actually assigned charges by HIM. Tho Guardians are assignment status is a totally different process If anyone's interested!

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

5: ......His previous life was......not so good. His parents came home from a 5 week vacay to notice the house was exactly how they left it. Barely realizing their son was gone until a few days passed. Only then did they realize something was wrong. Once they entered his room and found it a mess with some blood scattered around did they THEN call in the emergency...

unfortunately no body was found. Chester and AJ were devastated once Timmy's disappearance was announced in the school. They honestly though that he was finally taken on vacation by his parents.. They spent years grieving their friend and even meet up on his birthday to remember him. [Disclaimer: In this AU Fairyworld and Earth kinda run on different times, time in the Fae realm kinda goes faster than Earth.]

Trixie acted like a total attention hog, claiming how she was so endeared by Timmy's crush and acting like she lost the love of her life- [I had personal beef with her as a kid XD]

Hell even Crocker and Francis paused their antics for a while once it was announced. Francis eventually went back to his old ways but Crocker became quiet, a more introverted teacher until he retired.

Tootie took his kidnapping the hardest cause she's the only one who knows. She knows he passed on. She was on her way to visit when she spotted the ambulance and a strange family rushing out with Timmy in their arms. She found where he was buried....and every year, without fail, on his birthday, she left flowers at his grave. She never told anyone, in fear they may see Timmy's memory in negative light or use it for attention.

As Well as a Personal Favor to a Strange Pink Haired Woman.

Bonus: Tormented Creator

[gorgynei]

The Somnovem and Predathos Theory

Can we talk about Predathos and the Somnovem? I've been dying to talk about Predathos and the Somnovem. There's something here, I smell it.

Theory under the cut, its a doozy.

First of all, "Factorum Malleus" (translates to Creator Hammer) and "Malleus Keys" (translates to Hammer Keys). Aeor and Predathos have a concrete, canonical connection. Ludinus went deep into the Genesis Ward, found the Factorum Malleus project, and developed it further into the Keys to release Predathos. It's unclear whether Aeor also wanted to release Predathos, or if they were just trying to use part of its power to create god-killing weapons, but regardless, Aeor knew about Predathos. Thats a big deal and it explains why the entire pantheon held a ceasefire during the Calamity to completely wipe them out.

Knowing that Aeor has a connection to Predathos makes their fanatical Cognouza ward more suspicious. It's possible that the Somnovem were actually worshiping/serving Predathos but all record of it's existence was wiped with Aeor's falling, so we never knew.

When the Nein first learned about Cognouza, it was due to a psychic wave put out by Vokodo in his final moments, flashing them all into Vokodo's memories. This is similar to the flash that Imogen put out when she gave into Ruidus's power in e33-e34, even down to Bell's Hells being forced into their own memories. While not concrete, the shared usage of emotion-driven psychic waves and memories is notable.

The Somnovem believed in the power of the mortal mind and imagination. In other words, they believed that a brain could manifest psychic power, and they were right: Imogen Temult is living proof of that. They share in the ideas of the power of the mind, even down to the Somnovem communicating telepathically and in dreams.

The Somnovem, or at least members of it, also share many sentiments with the Ruby Vanguard. The Ruby Vanguard wants to release Predathos in order to destroy the pantheon, release mortals from fate, and embrace freedom in that. Ira, upon meeting the Nein, says "Creation is born from destruction, and if all that is worthy of us is destroyed, then so much more can be created or forgotten. All the Gods and the fates that threw us to torment and death, they all will pay" (c2e137) which mirrors that idea extremely closely. Timorei says "You know the terror of the end, mortal ones. The nothing, the acceptance of fate or even oblivion. We-- we cannot end. No, at all costs, oblivion must be destroyed" (c2e137), once again bringing up the idea of disrupting fate and the natural order of things. It's possible that what was originally interpreted as the Somnovem being split on whether to bring Cognouza into the world could have actually been a much larger debate on whether to bring Predathos into the world and destroy pantheon, at least in part.

When Cognouza was transported into the astral sea, it was harassed by a "terrible psychic storm" that drove them mad. Psychic storms haunt all of campaign 3. There's the red storms on the surface of Ruidus and Imogen's dreams, both intimately connected to Predathos and to the power of the mind. Cognouza could have targeted by a powerful psychic wave directly from Predathos, which would explain the strange mind-melded state they end up in and the madness that permeates the entire city and anyone who gets too close.

Additionally, Ruidus flared in 836 PD. Cognouza was also destroyed in 836 PD. It's impossible to know if these are completely connected or pure coincidence, but if Cognouza was a long-running Predathos plot, it's destruction would likely warrant an outburst from the moon.

While delving in Aeor, Lucien discovers a mural depicting "a ring of nine red ovals, with a dazzling starburst in the middle, and that decorated with a single open eye. Enlightenment" (from the Nine eyes of Lucien). Every other symbol of the Somnovem has been just nine red eyes. This "starburst" in the middle could be a subtle nod to Predathos, especially with the way it seems the nine ovals are inferior to this one, greater eye. Lucien seems to believe this represents enlightenment, and he's probably correct. The Aeorians are famously non-religious, so fanatical devotion to a god-killer and it's ideals may have still only looked like extreme belief in a particular school of thought, rather than worship to a particular entity.

There's the obvious too: the nine eyes being red. Red can mean a lot of things. There are plenty of red things in Critical Role that are totally unrelated to Predathos and Ruidus. But when red is the primary colour and representation of unchecked alien energy, and a strange fanatical city with possible connection to that energy is also red? It stops being so chance. Not a big thing on its own, but worth mentioning.

When Cognouza was destroyed, Kingsley felt the "strange black chains that invisibly wove through that city" break and heard an "angry, unknowable, primal, ancient cry". It's widely assumed that this is Tharizdun due to the chain-imagery and general madness that the city is connected to, and I do think that's likely, but if Tharizdun is actually somehow connected to Predathos (both of them are alien beings that got locked away, after all), it could be both of them.

*gestures wildly at all of this* do you see?? do you SEE???? There's something. There's something here.

[covenofthearticulate]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers (except me because obvs I have done it). Spread the self-love ❤

Awh HI BBY THANKS FOR THIS I was going to save this for a rainy day but since my inbox is flooded with show anons and you're all on my blog anyway I'm gonna take this moment to toot my own horn LMAO!

Air Catcher | Louis/Lestat | E | 8.6K I mean. This is always and forever going to be my baby. This was really the first long form fic I had written since coming out of hiatus and it was one of those projects where the end product was exactly what I had set out to create. I had a vision and I executed it, and I'm satisfied with the result. How many projects like that come about in a writer's lifetime? One or two? Air Catcher, for me, was the fic I had always dreamed about.

Boats Against the Current | Louis/Lestat | E | 5.6K Another highly cathartic fic for me to write! I'm really proud of the lyricism and emotion in this piece. It's really my love letter to my favorite scene in all of canon, which is when Louis takes Lestat to visit his family mausoleum at the very end of QOTD.

Out, Damned Spot | Louis, Claudia, Lestat | G | 2.7K My first, and maybe only G-rated fic?? This one was really fun to write as a quick character study— honestly I whipped it up and thought maybe it would be a fun read, but the way people really resonated and reacted to it just had me in my feels. Louis, Claudia, and Lestat were such a delightfully messy family dynamic and I really want to explore more of them soon!

By Fangs Alone (prev. titled Open Wide) | Lestat/Armand | E |10.9K This one was a doozy! By far the most I've ever pushed myself as a writer, both with the character dynamics (I'd never written ANY Lestat/Armand in my life!) and with the descriptions of Fang Sex. It was so hard to write, I almost gave up on it several times, but I'm so glad I stuck with it because idk I think the approach to vampire sensuality is novel and fun!

Permission | Louis/Armand | E | 6.5K Another fic that was really hard to get through, just because I find Armand and Louis' relationship to be so deeply rooted, it can feel overwhelming. But just like in By Fangs Alone, I'm really intrigued by dominant Armand, and so this fic really gave me the opportunity to explore how far Armand can push Louis, and how far Louis is willing to be pushed.

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 11}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (The Mandalorain x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: Traveling toward something Din scrounged up as a way to make credits, a pit stop is made and he realizes just how much he wants to learn more about you. Conversations flow to fill the time of travel, but when faced with people from a darker part of his past, a new facet of your personality is revealed.

Word Count: 10.5k (!!)

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical gore, canon typical language, star wars language and common knowledge, mando'a language (w/ translations), description of injuries, mentions of nausea, talk of menstruation, blood, symptoms of menstruation, female reproductive system talk, anxiety, ptsd symptoms, medical jargon, use of painkillers, character death (minor), death, parental death, guardian loss, loss of family, fighting, harsh language, threats, one hard slap (!!), teasing language, sexual language, sexual teasing, taunting, allusions to din's past sexual encounters, sexual touching, body image issues, feelings of inadequacy, female masturbation, exploration of sexual pleasure, first orgasm, sexual shame, pining, close quarters, unsavory individuals, uncomfortable situation, san shows anger

A/N: ah, here it is, the next installment! it's a doozy, we hop through so many emotions in this one, san's character developing as she opens up. happy thanksgiving, y'all! hope this feeds you all nicely for a while ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || kofi

“I’ve set the course for the Mid Rim.”

“Okay, anything particular there?”

“Job with an old crew.”

“Okay.” You didn’t look up from the table, brow furrowed as you concentrated on connecting the rings of metal in a pattern that didn’t seam obvious to Din. You were weaving different sizes together, some in patches, some in pairs. He watched you for a moment, taking in the way you were so focused and intent with your motions as you weaved a garment of metal. You had been at the task for nearly the whole day, quiet as you did so, allowing Din to go about his own business since leaving Tatooine.

Now that he had a spare moment he stood by the table and watched your diligent work. He had been waiting for the ship to travel far enough through space while he tended to small tasks of cataloguing weapons, supplies, some light maintenance. As he walked around the space, he noticed you moving to mess with the vambrace you had removed in order to work on the armor. He was curious, once again, if it was something you had been taught and trained to do or simply a hobby you took up in order to support yourself as a younger woman. When you frowned at the information that displayed from the cuff, a small sigh escaped you.

“Mesh’la?”

“Hmm?” You looked up from where you were transcribing something into your vambrace. Uttered a quiet affirmation before going back to it. A startled yelp bubbled up, the coding you were trying to input on it not translating properly and the high-pitched sound of feedback echoes around the hold. Sounds of an upset child flowed from his personal quarters, prompting you to stand go toward the cracked open door.

When you emerged, you were snuggling ad’ika to your chest, his face buried in your neck. The sight of you comforting such a small bundle in your arms with a smooth expression and soft shushing sounds, moving about the space to retrieve a cannister from the small cooling supply unit caused Din’s heart to still for a moment. Faint memories of his mother holding him until he fell asleep rose to the surface of his mind. You were so kind, so willing to take care of others. As proven by your willingness to help the villagers back on Sorgan, with fighting or tending to the ponds they harvested from. Despite everything you had faced and experienced, you were still kind, still loving. He idly wonders if his own mother would have still retained her kindness, if she had survived the attack that left him an orphan.

He retreated to his room for a bit, leaving you to tend to the child in peace, suddenly overcome with melancholic thoughts. The soft sounds of you talking lowly to the child and his responding coos filling the hold and easing Din into a light slumber as he lay atop the cot.

The hot stream of water had steam wafting through the air of the small room, curling around your hunched frame. The stabbing pain in your abdomen had you gasping and struggling for breath. Not something from previous injuries but a new sensation that had begun a couple hours ago. It had been growing in severity since you first noticed it. Food had been hard to eat lately, the bone broth and fruit helping to get you through the stomach pains of withdrawal from your latest, heavy dose of sedative and muscle relaxing drugs at the hands of a man that was now dead.

You moved to reach for some shampoo and a sharp line of pain ran across the front of your stomach. A crushing weight as you felt a cramp knot the inside muscles below your belly button. Hands digging into your skin there, you felt the hard bulge of the implant you had been administered during your captivity and a yelp flew from your mouth as it panged harshly. The throbbing pain stole your breath when you tried to suck air into your seizing lungs.

“Maker!” You weakly cried out, knees giving out and hitting the tile of the stall hard. The shock of it crawling up your body, adding a new pain to the ones already plaguing you. The bottles of body cleansing soaps thudded around you. One of them nearly landing on the hand you had pushed out to catch yourself from collapsing completely.

A whimper echoed off of the walls of the small room, making you sound like a wounded animal. The implant was jutted out from the developing softness of your stomach, the sparse food you indulged in allowing you to put on some healthy weight in wake of being nearly starved for so long. The skin was tender, but no bruising had developed, thankfully, as of yet. 

The cramping continued, making you nauseas as you tried to get back up onto your feet. The water was loud in your ears, the steam from the heat of it making your head hurt and you blinked hard as you threw a hand out to turn off the stream of it. A stretching feeling deep in the muscles of your lower back clicked everything together and your chest lurched at the implication of your cycle making an appearance after so long.

The implant shifted slightly underneath your skin, making you gasp loudly, and you stumbled against the stall. The slick tiles did nothing to support you and your back slid down the length of them, bottom hitting the floor as you crumpled.

“Din!” You called, at a loss of what to do, not able to keep upright. Your legs were shaking, and your head was swimming, the pain too much to handle and that’s when you realized you had unintentionally reached out with the Force and the door was flying open to the fresher. Quick steps and the cry of the Child were all you heard before a figure appeared in the doorway, you could see it through the frosty pane of glass that separated you from him.

“Did you fall? What’s wrong?” There was a twinge of concern in his soft tone, words rushed as he appeared in the doorway. His shadow was large through the frosted glass, you were grateful he had been awake. But you had a feeling he would wake from a deep slumber should you call out for him, instincts to aid and protect taking over the pull of sleep he seldom sought.

“Din,” You panted, hands hovering over the swollen part of your stomach. Pain throbbing deep inside your muscles, making them twitch. “Din, we need to land. I need a medic.”

Words trailing off as you noticed the trail of blood that was coming from between your legs, the water that hadn’t gone down the drain diluting it to create an alarming swirl around you. The panel of glass creaked, and you didn’t bother covering yourself up as Din’s gloved hands curled over the door.

“I’m opening the stall.” He announced before you could see the silhouette of him appear through the steam that had collected in the small room. He didn’t have any armor on, down to the simple clothing he wore underneath. He must’ve been cleaning it if he hadn’t been asleep, you mused in the back of your mind as your eyes trained on the floor of the stall once again.

“My- the implant, somethings wrong-“ You couldn’t look away from the blood curling around the drain, eyes drawn to the unnerving display. It had been so long since you had a cycle, and it was worrying that it had returned despite the presence of the implant. There was so much of it. Your attempt at an explanation was cut off by another yelp as the knot in your stomach jolted.

“This-this isn’t normal!” Your voice took on a panicked edge, higher than you’ve ever sounded before, through your clenched teeth as you held your hands to your aching middle. You didn’t care how scared you may have sounded, too encumbered by the pain and hectic thoughts flying around in your head on how to stave off the pain long enough to get medical attention.

“I’m going to help you up, is that okay?” Din stepped closer, boots splashing in the shallow water that had collected in the stall. His hands reached out to you as he crouched down to face you, visor dark as you looked up into it for a second. You didn’t want to fall to the floor again, too weak to hold yourself up even with his help.

“C-can’t stand. Hurts t-too much.” You keeled over, back hunching as you began to feel the cold of ship now that the steam was dissipating and the wet of your hair was exposed. Your skin prickled up into goosebumps at the cold air of the hold seeping into the room from the open door. A hand was under your chin, the chill of the leather making you shudder as your head was tilted up to face the rather close visor of Din’s helmet.

“I’m going to wrap you up, put you in my quarters and turn on the heat, is that all okay with you?”

You could only nod before you felt his hands carefully wrap a towel around your shaking body. The scent of him strong on it and it helped to ground you a bit. When he lifted you from the floor, you shouted out at the pull on your skin the action caused. Back and middle aching as cramps crashed in never ending waves. His gloved hands tensed where they supported you, your own still holding to your lower stomach.

A few moments later, you found yourself bundled up in the clothing he had first given you, fresh from whatever drying unit he had aboard the ship. The heat had been activated and you were underneath two blankets atop his cot. He had excused himself while you dressed, to go scout out a planet close enough that had a decent enough population to warrant a medical center. You felt the ship lurch slightly as it transitioned out from hyperspace and then back, a new path directing its direction of flight.

“Do you want me to go sleep in the other room?” His sudden question startled you, head shooting up to gaze at him as he stood in the doorway of his small quarters. The Child was fast asleep in the small hammock above you, one of his feet kicked out and visible in the low light from the hold. “I don’t want to make you comfortable.”

“I want you in here with me,” You couldn’t help the whine of your words, bottom lip trembling as a wave of emotion hit you at the thought of him being so far away. Of not being able to curl up beside him and feel the warmth of him just inches away. “If-if that’s okay?”

“It’s okay, mesh’la, I’m right here.” Pitched low, his voice curled around those frantic thoughts and soothed them.

“I’m…I’m sorry. The job-“

“Can wait, they need me.” He soothed you, trying to eradicate any worried you had, wanting to focus on getting you whatever you needed.

Once he was settled into the cot beside you, the heat of his close body helping to calm you down, you spoke into the darkness in a quiet voice. There were only a few inches of space between your bodies, if he took a deep enough breath his chest would be brushing your own as you faced each other atop the cot.

“I think the implant needs to be replaced or taken out. My…my cycle started, that’s what all that blood was.”

“Then we will get you to a medic and get it taken care of.”

“I have credits for it.”

“Not worried about that.”

“Din, I…I don’t want another implant.” The admittance was quiet, and you held your breath once it was out in the space between you both.

“…okay.”

“It wasn’t my choice to get one…I woke up with one after those bandits captured me.” You whispered into the darkness, in the general direction of his chest. He had laid down to face you, both your head and his helmet resting on a pair of pillows close together.

“It’s your body, your choice, mesh’la.”

You tried to piece together the shape of him beside you through the dark, aware that he was seeing you more clearly with the aid of his helmet. Reaching out, you found his arms crossed over his chest as he lay on his side facing you. He untangled them at the first hesitant touch of your fingers on the fabric of his long sleeves. He had his gloves on still, but he let you remove them, allowing you to free his hands from them to pull them toward you. He stiffened when he felt you slip them underneath the shirt you had changed into. Your skin was hot to the touch, but you shivered as if cold.

“Hands are warm, is it okay if-“

“It’s okay,” He breathed the words out, barely giving them life as he felt the soft skin of your stomach underneath his palms. He would give you the breath out of his lungs if you asked. His hands against your bare skin was something he was very okay with, especially if it would bring you the comfort you so obviously needed. The give of the flesh under the light pressure as you pushed them flush against you.

His fingers brushed over a hard spot beside your belly button, a small gasp sounding at the action, but you didn’t flinch or push him away.  Instead, you scooched closer to him, wiggling underneath the blankets to rest your head beside his. You pressed your forehead to the front of his helmet, breath washing over the skin of his neck as you mumbled a quiet thank you.

Of course the planet had been crowded, one of the few on the outer rim that had such a population, the buildings tall and foreboding. Signaling that any number of people could recognize either you or Din, the armor garnering more than a few lingering stares as he walked alongside you toward the clinic. He had done research to find a reputable one, not trusting just any medical center to treat you. He could do with whatever he had on hand aboard the ship, but he wasn’t taking any chances with you or your wellbeing.

The small whimpers you had made as you tossed and turned to try and get comfortable all throughout the two rotations’ worth of travel to get to the planet echoing in his head. With a lingering look and a reminder to contact him via comm link should you need anything, he dropped you off at the doors. He watched as you tried to keep up the appearance that you were okay, but the pinched expression that pulled your brows together gave him a hint at how badly you were still feeling.

The Child was peeking out from the bag he had slung around his shoulder, wide eyes taking in the commotion of the city as you walked through the streets. It had been an unspoken agreement that he would not be left aboard the ship in such a crowded space, Din opting to carry him around. The ever-present threat of a tracking fob pinging at the small being’s presence not lost on either of you. The potential of danger here was for all three of you.

Speaking in Mando’a around people was normal for you, a sign that you were wary of crowds and eyes that could lead to another capture, cautious. Ears that could overhear. That he held your trust now was not lost on him and he wondered once again how you came to know his language so intimately in order to converse with him as if you were Mandalorian yourself.

He had so many questions he wanted to ask you, so many things he wanted to know about you, but he refrained. Cautious himself, in bridging a gap too rashly in the face of the new dynamic you both found yourselves in. You were startled in ways he would never be able to fully anticipate, certain words, yes, certain actions, fast movements, sudden movements, you admitted to being put on edge by.

You looked up at him, the difference in height something he would be hesitant to admit that he was rather fond of. Your eyes were asking for something you didn’t voice and with a step forward, a hand reached out to steady yourself on his upper arm as you pushed yourself onto the tips of your toes and leaned your forehead briefly against the front of his helmet. The casual act of something that began to mean so much to the both of you, comforting in its simplicity. He closed his eyes behind the helmet, taking in the moment before you were pulling away from him and disappearing behind the automatic doors of the building with a last wiggle of your fingers toward the Child.

You looked back once, seeing how the neon lights of the cities nightlife reflected on his beautiful armor before you walked up to the counter and signed in with the aid of a nurse. As if sensing your nerves and how uncomfortable you were, she brought over a warm cup of tea the second you had settled down into a chair to wait for a room to be ready. You smiled at her, grateful for the touch of hospitality.

You had contacted him once back in the waiting room, after being cleared by a medic that you were free to go. They had asked…rather difficult questions, prompting you to admit you had no idea how long the implant had been in your body, what type it was, and that you hadn’t had a choice in its installation to begin with. The nurse explained in a hushed tone that your visit would be covered by the clinic due to the nature of your condition. You could see in red lettering the classification of ‘slaving victim’ on your paperwork laid out in front of her and your stomach soured at the description.

A simple conversation saying you would meet him back on the ship, you made your way back to the hanger slowly. You were able to walk comfortably now, your lower stomach and the internal organs there no longer cramping uncomfortably.

The implant had been removed, the offer for another one turned down with a shake of your head. The small incision that had been made was nearly invisible to the eye, but you knew where it was due to the phantom feeling of it lingering in your mind. They had given you a small collection of supplies that included suppression shots should you want them, absorption pads and inserts, painkillers, and a tin of tea that would help to soothe your symptoms.

The dose they had administered you while there had taken full effect by the time you were walking up the boarding ramp. You had expressed caution toward them, explaining that you had been given certain drugs against your will and that you were worried about experiencing withdrawal or addiction. They had assured you that the low dose would only ease the cramps, the medicine formulated to focus on the origin of pain and not an all-encompassing barrage on your nervous system.

You hovered outside the ship, reaching into the pouch strapped to your right thigh. The snick of a lighter was loud in the quiet of the late hour. You had no idea if it was closer to the middle of the night or the sunrise, the sky a dark velvet blue above you, sprinkled with glittering stars. You watched them absentmindedly as you smoked a cigarra, not wanting the smoke or smell of the tabac to collect inside the ship.

Feeling a little more like yourself, you opted for another attempt at a shower. You noticed the bag adi’ka had been cradled into atop the makeshift table. The ramp closed with the whine of mechanics behind you, and you assumed Din was up in the control room. Your hunch was proven right as the ship hummed to life and you heard the clearance for take-off from a speaker up above followed by a small gaggle of laughter from the small being as the ship lifted up into the air.

Smiling to yourself, you set your stuff beside the bag and made your way over to the refresher.

Exiting the refresher with a towel in your hand, you dried your hair as best you could, some sand from Tatooine still stubborn despite the wash of water and product. The motion jostled your chest, free underneath the plain, short sleeved shirt you wore. Planning on napping after the late-night excursion and the tense rotations that let up to it.

Sighing, you plopped down atop a crate around the makeshift table for a bite to eat. There was a cup of the tea you had placed atop the makeshift table waiting for you, the steam wafting from it telling you Din had timed it to finish just as your shower had. He had his own cup of caf in front of him, nearly empty. You took a sip of it, wincing at how the cut inside your mouth throbbed at the temperature. You must’ve bitten your cheek sometime recently as you battled against the pain that had taken over so fully.

Looking up, you found Din staring blatantly at you. His visor aimed directly at you though he hadn’t moved or spoken since you joined him. Not knowing the exact trace of his eyes, you figured they had swept over your form from top to bottom, suspecting that he clocked the absence of an undergarment. You were about to ask him if he was okay when you noticed the way bare hands were twitching atop the table where he cradled the mug.

He was in just his clothing once again, a habit you wouldn’t had thought of him, even aboard his own ship safely traveling through space. But you were kind of glad he was so comfortable around you now, to do so. He hadn’t before Sorgan, always keeping the full suit of armor and his weapons on. You crossed one leg over the other, and leaned your elbows atop the table as you cradled your own mug, aware of how it positioned you.

“See something you like?” The teasing lilt to your voice and the upturn of your lips in a smirk received a deep sigh from the man across from you. His fingers stilled on the ceramic, the rest of him motionless as if he were frozen in place. Energy thrummed between you, filling you up and making you bold. The hormones running high in your body winning out over your reason and logic as you shifted, the action pushing your chest together.

“Are…you okay, now?” He sounded a little winded, as if words were hard to come by. You wondered if he had been thinking back to all the times you had been injured before. Coalescing into a steady stream of memories he regretted collecting and recalling as new instances arose. You didn’t want him to only think of you as someone who he had to look out for, care for in such a way. Someone who was constantly facing illness and injury, but your recent track record couldn’t be argued because it was exactly that. A mark of time determined by what ailed you. But he revealed that exact internal struggle with his next words. “I would like to stop finding you on the floor of the fresher covered in blood.”

Not letting his concern deflate you too much, you took a sip from the tea before answering.

“I know that…must not be easy, I-“

“Do not apologize,” He cut you off softly, words beseeching as he leaned closer toward you. “I will look after you in any circumstance. You need to know that. But are you feeling any better, after?”

You grimaced slightly, not liking the way he worried so deeply, reassured you so strongly that he could handle it. You wanted to give him good memories too, not only sorrow and worry drenched ones so close together they blurred. But he needed to know what was written down on your chart should it arise in the future if you sought out official medical treatment again. You had given them your false name, the one you used while on the run, but if anyone where to input your birth date and description, your officially chain code would pop up. Dots could be connected and your cover blown.

“They marked me as a slaving victim. Covered the cost to remove the implant and gave me all these supplies. Gave me some pain killers to help manage.” You waved a hand toward the small bag they had gifted you on your departure. You stared into the dark of your cup. The pod of dehydrated herbs visible just beneath the surface, steeping. “But yes, I’m okay right now.”

“I didn’t look, when I helped you up, if that worries you.” He tapped a bare finger to the side of his helmet, letting you know that he had probably used another view setting to prevent such a thing, of crossing an unspoken line. Showing you respect even in dire situations if he could.

Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you glanced over at him for a moment before your eyes fell back to the mug cradled in your hands.

“…I don’t think it would be such a bad thing if you had looked.” You felt heat creep up your neck and toward your face at the quiet confession. He remained silent, processing. The visor of his helmet was aimed at you across the makeshift table, his hands tapping against the ceramic of his own mug.

“You’re allowed to ask questions, Din.” You reached out and took one of his hands in your own, squeezing it in reassurance. A small smile aimed at him. “That’s part of the…courting process, no?”

He was quiet for a moment, but the visor of his helmet was tilted just a bit as he regarded you, letting you know he was thinking something over and not ignoring you. You waited on him, not pressuring him but giving him the time he needed to think over his next words. This…new dynamic was all foreign to you, having never sought out a connection with anyone in such a way. But Din…he was worth it.

The things you’ve both done for each other speaking volumes when words weren’t either of your strong suits. You saving him and risking your wellbeing while still under his transport, him allowing you space in his ship and giving you the opportunity to make your own life. The softness he’s let you glimpse at that makes up the man that he is, so unlike the other side of him that hunts and ensures his livelihood. The same side that inspired him to turn on the Guild to help save a child who had no one else, a good manat his core. Someone you wanted to get to know, to be with, to connect with.

He shifted, his helmet taking in the remnants of the drink in his hands. When he spoke, his voice was careful, as if he was worried he was asking for too much of you despite wanting to know as much about you as possible. The woman who he hadn’t expected you to turn out to be back when that tracking fob first burst to life on Arvala-7. The woman he wanted to connect with despite feeling as if he didn’t deserve it, couldn’t be worthy of such a good thing in his life for all the bad he’d done.

“Is that…what you would like? For me to officially court you?”

“Well, you did ask to make a commitment to me,” You teased lightly, but genuine in your words. Shy in the wake of saying so aloud, of bringing it to the dim light of the hold space as the ship traveled through hyperspace toward a job he didn’t have much information on other than he once worked with those orchestrating it. “I would like to get to know you too.”

“I do have questions, but this is new…to me.”

“And I understand that, it’s all new to me too, cyar'ika.”

He was quiet for another beat, the term of endearment sprouting warmth in his chest. The modulator crackled with a heavy exhale. “How is it that…you know so much about my culture?”

“Ah, that’s a…rather long story.” Sipping from the mug in your free hand, you didn’t take away your other one from atop his. Your fingers flexed over his own, tangling with them as you brought his hand closer to you. You wrapped both of your hands around his one, fingers idly playing with his as you collected your thoughts. Your heart was beating hard in your chest at the contact, his skin so soft against your own. His thick fingers and wide palm so much bigger than your own. And he was warm, Maker, was he hot to the touch. His pulse was fast in the wrist you brushed over in your tentative exploration.

“Tell me, mesh’la.” His comforting words washed over you and you took a deep breath before you shared a part of yourself no one knew about.

“We sold armor in a small shop front and offered repairs as well. We had a man come by one day, all his armor damaged and he was too injured to travel. My mother let him stay with us while he healed and we helped to fix his armor with his guidance. It was really advanced and so beautifully crafted, his helmet especially. He was such a kind man, he explained to me about how the armor was a part of him and that it was a great honor to have found people who respect the art of it when he couldn’t return to his home planet for repairs.”

He taught me small words and phrases in Mando’a, told me all about his studies as he grew up. I think he was trying to fill the time it took him to heal and was grateful for someone to interact with, he said he had been alone for a long while…. I often wondered if he had been my father, the way he paid attention to me and shared with me. But I don’t think he was, not biologically at least. I learned as much as I could from the Temple library and histories about Mandalorians once that became my life.

When he left, he had given me his chain code, I sought him out after I escaped from the attack, hoping he could help me. He made the trip to the city, it took him a few days but, he helped me get off world, even though it had been years since last seeing him. We travelled for... a long time, trying to keep Clones and Troopers off our trail. He trained me, made sure I wouldn’t be helpless should we be separated. He taught me about his culture more in depth, how he was raised, how to travel, how to fight, how to survive. He…he died protecting me.”

“San…” Din’s hand turned in your grip, his other joining it to hold your trembling hands. A few tears fell from your watering eyes, racing down the curve of your cheek.

“He was a good man, a better guardian than my mother.” Your words were slightly bitter, taking over the taste of the tea on your tongue. Disdain for the woman who claimed to love you, only to chain you to a wall and drug you for so long. The rich baritone of Din’s voice called you back to the present, with a question that made your chest warm.

“What was his name?”

“Akiz Noves.”

Silence fell over the table, your hands warm from his touch, from his comfort. You wanted to ask to lay down, to feel him beside you. But the conversation had been...harder than you thought and you wanted to be alone with your thoughts. You worried your bottom lip, unsure of admitting another thing aloud to him. But he felt safe.

“I have…I had the pendant he gave me, but it wasn’t in my stuff from the compound. I…I was going to show it to you once we were back on your ship after you collected me, but it was missing. To try and connect with you, but it was gone, and you were so…” You trailed off, not feeling like you needed to explain something he lived along with you. “It feels like losing him all over again.”

Din reached into the collar of his long-sleeved shirt and pulled on a cord you hadn’t noticed around his neck until now. The shiny metal pendant of a detailed skull hung from it as he brought it out from beneath the fabric of his shirt. In a swift move, he removed the cord from around his neck, the clasp easily detaching underneath his bare fingers. He held it out to you and your breath caught in your throat.

“I know it’s not the same, but I can offer you my own.”

You were suddenly out of your seat and settling over his lap, arms wrapping around him in a tight hug. A grunt sounded from the modulator at the sudden weight of you pushing against him, your chest pressed close to his own. His hands came around you slowly, as if he was hesitant to touch you, but when he did, he squeezed you tight. The bottom of his helmet hooked over your shoulder and closed his eyes at the sniffles that sounded into the air. He held you to him despite the feeling in his legs going numb. But for you, he would stay locked in the embrace, for you he would do just about anything.

“I’m sorry about your parents, Din.” The words were pressed into the side of his neck, lips brushing against his skin, and he shivered slightly at the feeling of them. You placed a closed lipped smile on the skin there, offering comfort in a new way as your heart tittered in your chest, the action completely new for you. To want to offer physical touch, comforting touch in such a way. His hands tightened around you, knuckles popping with the force he clung to your shirt.

“I will try to share things with you, but you might not like parts of me.” You whispered into his neck, worried about the parts of your life you didn’t think about, let be exposed by the light of day.

“You might not like parts of me, but if you ask, I will give them to you as well.”

Later that hour, you were settled into your own cot, blankets drown up around your shoulders as you lay on your side, the pendant of the necklace grasped in your hand as you turned it over and over, taking in the beauty of the beskar it was made from. Taking in the very real fact that Din had given it to you without hesitation, just as he had committed himself to you. You fell asleep with a smile on your face and a warmth in your chest you were beginning to like more and more.

You could descend down to the hold and seek him out. The errant thought sparked through your mind much like the remnants of the dream you had been having did. Dissipating phantom feelings of large hands exploring your body had your thighs pressed together and your bottom lip between your teeth as pleasure waned from your nerves. You turned to lay on your back, the pendant slipping from where you had cradled it in your hand while asleep.

Hands scrabbling for it, you pressed it into the give of your chest, the cool beskar like a soft breath against your skin through the fabric of your shirt. With a sigh, heat flared at the notion that Din had given you a part of himself. Before you could think better of it, hands were sneaking underneath your shirt, dragging the pendant over sensitive skin. The coolness of it lightly tracing over the peaks of your breasts stuttered your breath, heartbeat thumping between your thighs.

The painkillers had worked through the night, allowing you to feel the full force of the cravings your body was now calling out for, a result of your heightened hormones and the all-encompassing feeling of having connected with someone. Of wanting someone.

A trembling hand reached down and delved beneath the band of the sleep pants you had donned before bed. Fingers reached toward the sensitive bundle of nerves that was aching between your folds. Slick coated them as they sought it out, small tingles spreading across your skin and lighting you up in a way you had never felt before. When they brushed against it, your breath left you in a deep gasp, pleasure sparking sharp through your entire body. Your hand jerked away, overwhelmed at the sensation and you suck in heaving breaths as your eyes had flown open.

Body tingling, you moved your fingers back over the bundle in small, gentle circles. Panting as heat and pleasure consumed you from the inside out, you began to move them faster, fingers pressing harder. Hips bucking up as pleasure simmered deliciously in your abdomen, a far cry from the pain that had been cresting there just hours ago.

Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth to quiet the small whines that were bleeding from you, the muscles of your stomach tensed. There was no other warning before white heat crashed over you and you came undone, release hitting you hard enough for you to shout out.

Hand still pressed against your core as you tried to catch your breath, you could feel yourself flutter around nothing. Body calling out for something else, for something more. So quickly in the wake of experiencing something for the first time and suddenly it wasn’t enough.

Face warming at what you had just done, what had just washed over you, you turned to press it into the pillow beneath your head. Shame tried to rear its head, but you shoved it down, not wanting to experience it, not wanting to succumb to it in the wake of taking something back for yourself. Of finding good in something that had been bad for so long. A lazy smile pulled at your lips, and you fell back into the sleep that had never really waned from the edges of your mind. The beskar pendant held tight in your hand once again.

Gravity shifted as the ship descended from hyperspace, making your stomach jump up somewhere in your ribs, hand coming down to steady yourself on the makeshift table where your tools and metal castings were scattered.

The Child reached out for you at the shift, surely his tummy had done the same and it was foreign to him. His small hands clung to you as you moved him from beside your stuff to your lap, crossing your legs for him to lay in the divot it created. He looked up at you with his wide eyes, thoughts connecting with yours to speak to you in the only way he could. It was just a feeling of confusion that blossomed over your own thoughts, and you carefully blanketed it with comfort. He relaxed in your lap, reaching out for a tool and he waved it around.

“I’ll come with you,” You said without looking up as you hear the hush of him moving down the ladder.

A few moments later, you were following behind him, having settled ad’ika securely in Din’s quarters with a snack and soft reassurances that you would be back soon.

He paused at the top of the ramp, casting his gaze over you.

“I was younger when I worked with them, a different man than I am now.” He spoke evenly, but you could hear the hesitancy in his voice as he tried to be honest with you. “More boy than man, they may- will say things about me that don’t apply anymore. Please don’t pay them any mind.”

You stuttered out an agreement, wanting him to know that you heard him but unable to collect your thoughts enough to articulate them.

His shoulders are tense, though only noticeable because you had seen him so relaxed around the Crest during the rotations it took to travel. His steps measured and careful, as he descended the ramp ahead of you. The hangar was a bit of a mess, people gathered about, some working on parts of mechanics you couldn’t identify. As he walked through the space, people were blatant in their stares.

“Mando!” An older human with wild gray hair and a long beard approached. “Is that you under that bucket?”

A hand was held out in greeting, though something about the way he spoke set you on edge. Like there was something behind his words. Calculating.

“Ran.” Din greeted, extended his own hand to shake with the man’s offered one.

“I didn’t really know if I’d ever seen you in these parts again. Good to see ya.” The same hand that had been shaking Din’s reached up over his armored shoulders in a fleeting touch you were surprised he let happen. “I was a little surprised when you reached out to me.”

“Ya know, cause I…I hear things. Like maybe things between you and the Guild aren’t workin’ out.”

“I’ll be fine.” Ran leaned back a little, his hair shifting over his shoulders as he raised his hands in a placating manner, letting the man know he wasn’t about to push the subject.

“Okay. Well, you know the policy. No questions. And you, you’re welcome back here anytime. Now, be polite and introduce me to the little shadow you got following behind you.”

“This is-”

“Sarad.” You held out a hand, anticipating a handshake in greeting. But the man stepped close and held it between both of his own. His eyes bore into your own, flicking between them, and you felt seen in a way that put you on edge. Your clothing felt too tight all of a sudden, body lighting up with anxious energy that you tried to quell so it wasn’t noticeable.

“Such a quiet little shadow, where did he pick you up?”

“Tatooine,” The lie flowed easily, this man was a stranger to you, someone you had no qualms about being honest with despite his seemingly temperate disposition. But there was just something about him, about the way he held himself that you weren’t fond of. Wary of in the wake of working alongside Din or merely being around as Din worked with him.

“Well, pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sarad.” He released your hand, turning to lead you both through the open space of the crowded hanger, up a flight of stairs and across a heightened walkway.

“So what’s the job?”

Ran halted his steps, turning to survey the wall of armor Din made up beside him. He took a moment before he responded, as if he had been thinking over his words. Something that caught your attention all the same. He was hiding something, and not just in general but something that pertained to Din specifically.

“Yeah, one of our associates ran afoul of some competitors and got himself caught. So I’m puttin’ together a crew to spring him. It’s a five person job. I got four.” Ran paused, taking a moment to look out over the space below, mental tabs on the people working and milling about. “All I need is the ride, and you brought it.”

“The ship wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Well, the Crest is the only reason I let you back in here.” Ran’s voice shifted down an octave, displaying a glimpse of authority.

Din turned to him, helmet heavily tilted to the side, his distrust obvious.

“What’s the look?” Ran moved in close, getting right up in front of the visor, body almost pressed against the armor. He spoke directly into the side sensors of the helmet, not looking nervous in the slightest, if his next words were any indication. Voice pitched low and slightly taunting. “Is that gratitude?”

“Uh-huh. I think it is.” Din didn’t move a muscle, visor trained on the man as he stepped back and away, feeling righteous in his intimidation and lack of response from the armored man.

Din cast his gaze down at the floor, helmet not giving anything away, but you could read his movements as well as if you could see his face. The way he lifted the helmet to you in a silent apology, for getting involved in whatever was about to transpire. You gave a single, curt nod. Letting him know that it was okay, that the job was something you were willing to go along with if he was.

You both followed the man as he crossed the remaining suspension, down a flight of stairs at the other end. He called out as he approached a small gathering of storage cabinets and a long table, a figure busy between them.

“Hey, Mayfeld.”

“Yeah?” A man dressed in all black with a dark leather harness draped over his back turned from where he was retrieving something from within a set of the storage drawers. There were three heavy duty looking guns fastened into the harness, tight against his body. He had no hair, but the short beard that decorated his face was the color of candied ginger.

“This is Mando, the guy I was tellin’ you about. We used to do jobs way back when.”

“This is the guy?” Mayfeld approached the table, using it as a shield between himself and the imposing figure Din made by simply standing there.

“Yeah, we were all young, tryin’ to make a name for ourselves.” Ran mused, as if that explained it all away. The things were you suspecting Din had tried to warn you about before disembarking.

“Yeah, but runnin’ with a Mandalorian, that was… That brought us some reputation.”

“Oh yeah? What did he get out of it?”

“I asked him that one time. You remember what you said, Mando? Target practice.” Ran’s laughter was boisterous as it sprung into the air from deep in his chest, garnering the attention of a few passersby. “We did some crazy stuff, didn’t we?”

“That was a long time ago.”

“Well… I don’t go out anymore. You understand?” The same tone of pressured understanding hid underneath his words as he regarded Din, “So, uh, Mayfield, he’s gonna run point on this job. If he says it, it’s like it’s comin’ from me. You good with that?”

“You tell me.” Din faced Mayfeld over the expanse of the low table head on, visor aimed at the slightly disgruntled face of the man he would have to work with.

Ran’s laughter rang again, “You haven’t changed one bit.”

“Yeah, well, things have changed around here.” The intimidation didn’t quite hit the same coming from Mayfeld, his words thrown over his shoulder as he walked away. He didn’t impact his words with eye contact or head on communication.

“I think he’ll be able to play catch up, he’s got his little shadow here to help him along.” Ran nodded at you, you just stared as his eyes met your own. He was watching you, keeping tabs on how you moved a few steps behind and to the right of Din. Never straying too far from him but maintaining a respectful distance. “Yeah, well, Mayfeld, he’s…he’s one of the best triggermen I’ve ever seen. Former Imperial sharpshooter.”

You tried not to let the way your body stiffened show, blood chilling in your veins as your eyes roved over the man who had walked away. Static buzzed in your head, thoughts muddling together as your hand twitched over the where it rested atop the pouch strapped to your right thigh.

“That’s not saying much.” Din deadpanned; his voice flat but controlled as he could feel how you had tensed beside him. Sensed how you had taken the smallest step closer toward him.

“I wasn’t a storm tropper, wiseass.” Mayfeld shot the insult over his shoulder, it not landing as he looked away too quickly for it to have any heat.

“Don’t take long, does it?” Ran chuckled to himself as he looked between all three of you, smirk crawling over his lips in a worrying display.

“Razor Crest? I can’t believe that thing can fly. Looks like a Canto Bight slot machine. Alright, that good lookin’ fellow there with the horns, that’s Burg.” Mayfeld gave a perfunctory introduction as he led the way toward the ship, his back tense as he did so. The Devaronian that had been holding a large crate dropped it, the loud thud of it hitting the floor making the muscles in your thighs twitch. “This may surprise you, but he’s our muscle.”

Burg approached quickly, interest piqued at your arrival. He moved to stand right up in Din’s personal space and looked him up and down. Circling him to get a full look at the armor he donned. He sneered, distaste obvious. “So this is a Mandalorian. I thought they’d be bigger.”

“Driod’s name is Zero.” The droid was of a protocol model you faintly recognized, some version of a Q9 you may have run into while on your travels. He had been messing with a transmitter of some sort, along a bank of equipment that probably allowed for control of the hanger door and settings. He vaguely resembled an insect, the eye sensors bulging out like a member of the eusocial species.

“I thought you said you had four.”

“He does.” A feminine voice announced from behind you. You mirrored Din as he turned slowly to watch an approaching Twi’lek. Her skin was a soft, pastel purple, covered by simple clothing. Outfit punctuated by a loaded down belt and a leather harness about her head. There was the glint of a knife in her hand, settled at her side as she walked closer.

“Hello, Mando.” She greeted, though her words were simmering.

“Xi’an.” Your ears caught the slight surprise in his tone, setting alarms off in your head.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t cut you down where you stand?” She began to twirl the knife in her grip as she neared, suddenly lunging at him and raising the blade to rest just below his helmet. He didn’t flinch in the slightest, almost as if he had been expecting her, but again, even if he hadn’t, you doubted he would’ve shown any indication of alarm.

“Nice to see you too.”

Her shrill laugh squeaked into the air, grating on your ears in an unpleasant way. The surrounding people laughed along with her, finding humor in the deliverance of Din’s words.

Xi’an sighed a deep breath, knife still held up to Din’s neck, “I’ve missed you.”

Your eyes narrowed at her words, not liking the implication of them. To your right, Mayfeld must’ve picked up on the meaning of them as well, he looked over to Ran with raised eyebrows. Your own questioning thoughts mirrored in his expression.

“This is shiny.” Xi’an preened at the sight of Din’s new armor, tapping against it with the blade of her knife in echoing clangs. She clicked her tongue as he leaned impossibly further into his space, hovering so close to the front of his helmet. “You wear it well.” She purred, voice pitched low and sultry.

“Do we need to leave the room or something?” Mayfeld asked, showing his slight discomfort at the exchange. You were tense, however, entire body lined with muscles ready to snap. It was blatantly obvious that she and Din had…had relations. He had told you he had past experiences, but you never anticipated interacting with anyone he had been involved with. And yet, here you were, in a sketchy lone space station far from anything else with a group of unsavory people. About to work a job with one of them.  

“Well, Xi’an’s been a little heartbroken since Mando left our group.” Ran said by way of explanation, gaze aimed at you as your hands shifted from your sides to hook in between the leather of your belt and the fabric of your trousers. The corner of his mouth ticked up slightly, entertained by the unfolding display.

“Awe. You gonna be okay, sweetheart? Especially with his little shadow joining us.” Mayfeld teased, voice taking on a sarcastic, saccharine lilt. The man nodded over to you but she didn’t divert her attention from Din.

“Oh, I’m all business now.” She stepped back from Din, not giving you any attention as she turned to face him and jutted her entire arm out with the knife pointing at him. “Learned from the best.”

At the smallest tilt of Din’s helmet toward you, she turned and gave you her full attention. Knife twirling in her grip once again. She walked up close to you, smirk pulling at her dark lips, giving you a glimpse of the canines, she possessed.

“And what’s this little thing? Mando’s little shadow, you said?” She teased as she stepped into your personal space. Blocking you from seeing how Din took a single step forward or how Ran shook his head toward him. You simply took a few steps back, not caring if it made you look weak to do so and put space between you both. “So demure and quiet while the grown ups talk.”

“This little thing will shove that knife in your throat if you so much as look at me with it in your hand,” You slapped her hand away when she raised the aforementioned knife, preparing to brandish it at you just as she had done with Din. The blade caught an overhanging light and glinted at you as the sound of the slap echoed around the hangar. Her squeaking laugh grated on your ears once again, her mouth open wide as she closed the space between you both again in a bold move.

“Oooh, it’s feisty. I like ‘em like that. Mando does too, but you’d know that, hmm?” She tossed a taunting look over her shoulder at him, tongue peeking out between her teeth.

“Enough.” Din’s voice was even in volume, but his tone left no room for a follow up. There was an air about him you had yet to see, not even a few moments ago when he was interacting with Ran and Mayfeld. Though he had been on edge, he had remained businesslike, collected. But he now seemed to be barely holding in a manner of hostility you had only glimpsed at previously. It was as if he was alarmed by her presence, by the words in which she spat at you both, the implications that were spewing from her mouth. His demeanor hadn’t shifted until she made her presence known, approaching the group in the way that she had.

“Touchy, touchy. Hit a nerve did I?” She leaned into your space much like she had done with him, knife brandished at you now despite your threat. But she didn’t get the chance to step within inches of your front like she had done with Din. You raised a hand from where they had been hooked over your belt, mentally reaching out and pushing against her advancement toward you with the Force. You hid it well, hand making contact with her middle to look as if you pushed her. Her expression cleared for just a second at the pulse of energy, before her face contorted into an ugly one, and she snarled at you from the distance you had shoved her.

Unable to fight against the energy you were harnessing against her, she howled, teeth glinting in the lights of the hangar space. Her rage drew the attention of the scattered members of the organization, heads turning to witness you merely standing there with a hand raised almost lazily in front of you as you glared at her with a neutral expression and her frantic struggle against invisible restraints.

“Ni kelir not borarir ti kaysh.  Ti a etyc uram bal bid aru'ela.”

 I will not work with her. With such a dirty mouth and too much hostility.

“Complaining to Mando, are we?” She trilled, snickering laugh falling from the upturned corners of her mouth. “Need him to handle your fights for you, hmm?”

“Besom.” You hissed as you flicked your wrist, fingers splaying out with the action. No longer feeling the need to hide your motions of using the Force, too ticked off to think about it. She fell to the ground, the movement too fast for her to catch herself and she glared up at you with a threatening tint in her eyes. Blood dripped from her spit lip, face having connected hard with the ground. You turned away from her, keeping her in your eyesight, not trusting your back to her and you faced the ship, preparing to board and seek out the privacy of your room with the Child for the duration of the trip. She was rude.

Din took a few silent steps toward you, standing between the angry woman on the ground and your still standing figure. His modulator crackled as he opened his mouth, but Ran interrupted him with a tone of authority he had only hinted at having before.

“Alright, lovebirds. Break it up till you get on the ship. Then you all can figure out a new dynamic. Right now, we don’t have much time.”

You held her down for a moment more, feeling powerful in the way she struggled on the ground, despite the feeling of remorse in the back of your head for doing so. You refused to meet her eyes as you relaxed your hand, tucking it into your pocket at the front of your trousers. With another snarl aimed at you she stood with swift movements. For a second you felt like she was going to lunge at you again, but thought better of it at the last moment.

When she was a safe distance away, she turned back around and aimed a wink at Din.

Burg decided to size Din up once more, stepping right into his space like he had done before. Passing over judgement at the way he had idly stood by during the exchange between you and Xi’an. His laugh was deep in tone and rumbling.

“Tiny.” The smile he aimed down at the visor anything but friendly.

“Even tinier.” The voice like gravel aimed directly at you only gave a second’s notice before he was stepping toward you and reaching. Your axis tilted, as he lifted you effortlessly off the ground, causing your legs to dangle. Dangerous quiet fell over the group for a few beats. Those that had turned toward the ship looking back at the taunting Burg had decided to do.

“Put. Me. Down.” Voice pitched low, a threat hidden in the words. Over the entire lot of them, these people that Din once worked grating on your nerves in the worst way. Making you into something you didn’t want to be, openly hostile and on edge. So unlike the disposition you had adapted over the last few weeks.

Your hands looked small where they gripped the wrists of the Devaronian, him holding tight to the front of your cloak where he held you up to his face level. You met his eyes head on, not leaving the blue of them as he scrutinized you openly. aware that everyone was tense as they watched the scene play out. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see how Din’s dominant hand had fallen to hover over the handle of the blaster nestled into its holster at his side. “Now.”

“Heh, tough little one.” He rumbled before setting you back on your feet. His hands came down heavily on your shoulders where he patted you, before he turned to gather with the rest of the group off to the side of the ship.

The second you were alone in front of the ship, you turned to face Din with a slight frown, clearly upset but trying to remain as composed as possible. Your expression smoothed into something neutral, so much like it had been in your early days of interaction with the man. His helmet shifted to look over at you, away from where he had been staring after the group as they began to talk amongst themselves by a collection of errant machinery. He clocked the way the muscles in your neck were jumping, pulse racing.

“I thought you said they asked after you for a job.” You tried to keep the accusation from your low words, but it was obvious that Ran hadn’t been expecting him. It had been plain old luck that a job was being put together and he appeared just in time to be included, that much you could piece together. But the Din they were referring to, you didn’t know that version of him and you didn’t want to. Not right now when you were so riled up at being picked on, feeling the need to defend yourself when all you had done was simply stand beside the man.

“It was an open-ended offer, from some time ago.”

“You- you can’t lie to me. Even by omission and way of words. About jobs or about whatever the kriff went on between you and her.” The last word nearly hissed from between your lips, clear distaste for the woman stemming not just from her attitude but whatever history was apparent between her and the man standing silently beside you. You began to walk up the ramp, stepping silently on the metal that made it up. You didn’t look back at him as you always did, something you couldn’t bring yourself to do with the overwhelming feeling of jealousy and unease at the situation you were now in. Thrown into something with people you would rather avoid than spend time with in close quarters. “Otherwise, none of this is going to work.”

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taglist: @strawberri-blonde @js-favnanadoongi @moonknight-s-cumdump @bookloverkat @littlemisspascal

dividers by the lovely saradika

[absolutebl]

The Currently Airing Shows Ask Game looks really interesting and I can't resist asking you the following:

4. What is your favorite day for shows to air on? 5. What show do you think is doing the best job at utilizing tropes? 6. What trope is crossing over multiple airing shows that surprises you?

Especially keen to hear your take on 5 and 6! 😍

‌

Aw, yeah thank you!

I just answered #5. I chose We Are and explain my reasoning here. So the other two, fun fun!

4. What is your favorite day for shows to air on?

OMG! Mid week. Please BL gods.

For me a "normal work week" is usually Monday evening through Thursdays at home and then travelling on the weekends. When I travel it's usually for work, which means I only have my work laptop and mobile devices with me, and am moving through different time zones, IPs, and occasionally overseas. So for me it's the opposite of most: on the weekends I have the least leisure time and its hell trying to get access to everything (grey is right out).

Thus I love a shows that air on Mondays (that never happens), Tuesdays (sometimes) and Wednesdays (thank you Japan and Taiwan). Also these break up the monotony of my week.

6. What trope is crossing over multiple airing shows that surprises you?

That's a doozie. I hadn't picked up on any major trend right now across all players.

I will say the shows I'm enjoying the most are the ones that are upending and messing with tropes like Wandee Goodday and My Stand-In. Usually I prefer the fluffy standard fair, but right now the world is a bit askew.

Frankly, I shouldn't be liking My Stand-In at all, but I'm loving it.

Other trends?

It's not really a trope, more a theme or a collective archetype, but I've been noticing that supportive friendship groups, always popular in BL, seem to be getting better development and attention than they have in the past. Almost as if they're being given as much emotional weight (by the narrative) as the central romance. I like that a lot.

I also like how many adult leads and sides we are getting, even from Thailand. By which I mean, BL outside of a school setting. We still have high school and university set stuff, but that used to be ALL we got. I don't mind school settings, but I like that we have some kind of balance going on these days.

Oh yeah. And Japan.

Japan came to play and will not leave the field that they built.

I mean it's crazy how many JBLs we are getting this year. (And last.) Consistently, one after another, even a couple airing at once. At one point there was like 4 airing!

I may not always like JBL, but when I love it, I REALLY LOVE IT, and when it hits it hit hard (pain or joy). And even when I don't like it, it always gives me a lot to think about.

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝑭𝑬𝑹𝑨𝑳 𝑾𝑶𝑴𝑨𝑵 ║ Chapter 10 - Don't Run. You Will Only Die Tired.

| FERAL WOMAN | series masterlist | main masterlist | | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 5k | CHAPTER WARNINGS: heavy topics relating to captivity, SA, sewer slide, difficulties with intimacy following SA, PTSD, etc. The whole thing is a doozy.

| CHAPTER SUMMARY: You've waited so long for good things, and now it's hard to be patient when they're just within reach. Against your better judgment, you push yourself. Joel pushes back.

║ＰＲＥＶＩＯＵＳ ║⋄── •✧• ──⋄║ ＮＥＸＴ ║

Please read with caution if you have difficulties with works concerning: SA, physical violence, torture, captivity, trauma, and similar topics as they are discussed throughout the series. All highly sensitive portions WILL BE MARKED with my sensitive material banner if you wish to skip the more challenging portions. The sensitive material banner looks like this:

Joel liked you. You didn’t need to prove anything to him. You didn’t need to be anything in particular for him to want to spend time with you. It was something you had to continuously remind yourself of. And yet, the voice in your mind kept quietly nagging: why does he want to take things slow?

You’d done a very bad job of doing anything remotely close to “taking things slow,” and you felt guilty every so often when you realized just how much of that you were putting on Joel to oversee and manage. After years of torment, it was hard for your logical side to convince your emotional side to not just dive headfirst into all of these good feelings. It’s been so long since you’d felt happiness like this, and to deny yourself of it felt like a betrayal in many ways. What was the harm in going a little faster? What was the risk of doing more, and sooner?

Joel felt strongly about it, however, and you did your best to respect that. You wanted him with a fervor so unfamiliar to you that you sometimes had to force yourself to not push those boundaries too far and too hard. There was always the risk of you getting triggered or overwhelmed, but the longer you had to wait for those good feelings and sensations, the more it seemed like a calculated risk worth taking.

You aren’t sure when the shift happened, but not being physically or sexually connected to Joel made you feel antsy. When you cuddled on the couch or exchanged intimate kisses, you felt confident and sure of yourself and your relationship. When you were doing literally anything else, you were flooded with uncertainty and self-doubt. You could be in the same room together, but if you weren’t touching, that chasm of ambiguity and anxiety began to swallow you whole.

Joel had picked up on the change because of course he had. At first you didn’t want to admit to him how desperate and needy you were for something that he time and again executed refrain and patience for. It left you feeling like all the desire and want was one-sided. Eventually you admitted the truth to him. He took it in stride as he always did with your ricochet of doubt and worry and elation. He’d carefully - thoughtfully - suggested the two of you think of non-sexual ways to build intimacy and trust. When he asked if you had anything in mind, you already had an answer.

The heat of the water fogged up the mirrors in Joel’s bathroom. It had been running for a few minutes now, and the tub was nearly filled. You hadn’t had a bath in months. You hadn’t had an actual bath in a tub in … you can’t even remember when. The flower marking on your hip had meant you needed to avoid submerging the open scarring until it fully healed, but you wouldn’t have been sinking into a warm pool of water anyway. It carried too much weight to be indulged on a whim.

“You really aren’t going to get in with me?” you ask quietly as you watch the line of water rise.

“I jus’ think it’s, uh, safer that way.” Joel scratches the back of his neck. “Ya know, jus’ to… keep things goin’ in the right direction.”

You sigh and shoot him a watery smile. “Alright. I understand.”

He curls his hand around yours and gives a small squeeze. “Jus’ because it ain’t today doesn’t mean it won’t ever happen.”

You wrap your arms around one of his and hug tight. “I know,” you say, trying your best to not sound disappointed. The commiserating grin Joel gives you let’s you know you probably aren’t doing a great job at hiding it. Joel leans over and turns off the water. He makes a low grunt as he straightens back up again.

“I think that’ll do it. Do you want me to….?” he trails off and glances in the direction of the door. 

“No, stay. Please. And, do you think– I mean, if you want to— that you could undress me?” you ask.

Joel swallows thickly and makes a noise of uncertainty.

“I—” you immediately falter. “I want. For when it happens – for when that happens – that it’s… something I asked to happen.”

You aren’t sure if your explanation will suffice to convey all the scope of what you’re asking. Joel’s eyes narrow as his head tilts, but there’s still an element of doubt. So, you try again.

“I want for you to.. undress me because–it’s what I— for me to…. I want it to think of it as a good thing, and not s-something that means.. something that means something bad is about to happen to me,” you manage to get out.

Joel’s eyes close briefly. He takes a deep breath. It seems he did understand what you meant without further explanation, but that maybe he was wishing he was wrong in his interpretation.

“Of course. I– Of course we can do that, honey. Let me– how d’ya wanna go about it?”

“M-Maybe we do it together? The first time?” you suggest.

He nods slowly, watching your face closely. You reach out to his hands and guide them to your t-shirt. You drag them slowly upward before raising your hands above your head and allow Joel to pull your shirt off. He drops it to the floor and carefully awaits your next instruction. You ask if he can kiss you “in a small way,” and he thankfully understands. After a few gentle, slow presses of your lips together, you feel grounded enough again to continue. Soon enough, you’re standing bare before him and feel completely safe and sane. You even surprise yourself at the lack of nerves.

Even if there had been any to begin with, they would’ve quickly melted away under Joel’s attention and care as he eases you into the water and pours a cupful of it along your scalp a few times. You don’t bother not ogling him as he removes his long sleeved shirt so the sleeves don’t get drenched. You catch his almost shy grin.

“Like what ya see?” he teases.

“I’m full on naked, okay? I think it’s only fair I get to stare at you a little bit,” you point out.

He huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes. “Remember that ain’t what this is supposed’ta be.”

You both pull back on your giddy grins. It was so hard to ignore the rushing feelings of excited nerves and anticipation for what this new romantic and sexual aspect of your relationship would bring. But he was right. This was supposed to be about intimacy outside of those things. You’re sure if you thought about it too much for too long that you’d get nervous. Asking restraint from a man. Asking for respect of your body and your boundaries. Laying open and bare for the taking, but asking and trusting you won’t be. Not without your permission. Asking – daring to ask – to be touched and cared for in a way that does nothing for the other person. A test of morals and trust.

You sit in a quiet silence for the most part, a comfortable bubble with just you and Joel. He gently washes your body, pausing every now and then as he waits for your verbal consent for his hands to be on your body, your most intimate parts. Somehow it doesn’t feel sexual. You were sure when he got to your breasts or private areas, you’d feel aroused. Instead it was much the same as any other part.  You just felt safe and warm and content.

The only shift comes when he begins washing your hair. He feels you tense for a split second and stops. “I don’t hafta do your hair if you’re not—”

“No. I- I want you to wash my hair. More than anything else, actually. It’s–It’s the reason I even suggested you bathing me as part of that... thing you said. Trying for the nonsexual stuff.”

“Okay. It’s just, you sorta flinched when I–”

“Mae used to wash my hair,” you interrupt hastily. “We would do it for each other.”

Joel is quiet for a moment. Then, “Your friend, right? The one you, uh, lost?”

You nod somberly. “I miss it. I miss doing that for each other. I miss her.”

“Somethin’ y’all did together a lot?” he asks delicately.

Your face warms with a smile. “Yeah. It was some of the only times we were alone, so we could actually talk about things. Help each other. Comfort each other.”

Joel makes a contemplative noise. He pauses again. You can feel his hesitation, nervous to say the wrong thing. Nervous to take one of your few good memories from the past couple of years and ruin it. You already had so little from your time in captivity. He didn’t want to take the crumbs that were left.

“That sounds nice. I’m glad y’all had each other.”

“It was nice,” you agree softly. “We would wash our own bodies most of the time. Sometimes after… certain things, when you can’t hardly stand to be in your body, let alone touch it and bathe it… we’d help each other those times. But, mostly it was washing each other’s hair. Just felt nice for there to be somebody touching you that wasn’t meant to hurt you. To own you.”

You take a deep breath and lean into Joel’s gentle massaging motions. “Feels good, baby,” you whisper.

“Wanna make you feel good. Wanna make you feel safe,” he responds with equal tenderness.

“You do.” You close your eyes and smile when you feel Joel’s gentle kiss on your temple.

“You can, uh.. you can talk about her, if you want. Mae. I’d like to hear about her, if you’re able.” He sounds so docile and soft. He feels like the warm bath water soaking into your skin. He feels like the blanket of soothing heat that surrounds you.

You find the words spilling out without any effort. There’s no gruesome gnarl or knot of pain in your chest. You feel light. It feels good to talk about her. To keep her memory alive. To give her the sort of eulogy and tribute she deserves. She deserved so much more. Joel is a good audience – asking questions at all the right spots, chuckling quietly when you share funny tidbits, running comforting strokes up and down your back when you recall harder times.

You find yourself able to work all the way up to her final day. “They were going to take her. He-Sam. Sam was annoyed with her over something. I don’t know what. Said he didn’t want her sleeping in the room with us that night. Said she was gonna have to sleep naked out there with the rest of the crew.”

You swallow hard and flick aimlessly at the bathwater. Joel is still as a statue beside you with only the measured pull and release of air through his nose letting you know he was still there.

“She knew what that meant. She was already–she wasn’t better yet from a few days before… we were still trying to look after some of her injuries…..,” you meander through the memory. “I just think she knew she might not survive the night anyway.”

Your eyes sting with tears. You sniff some of them back. “She looked at me, and I knew. Not exactly, but I knew she was going to make a break for it right then and there. I just froze. It’s like I was stuck. I just stood there while she took her chance and tackled one of the guys.”

“She got him to the ground?” Joel sounds surprised.

“Managed to get him to the ground and wrestle his gun from him, actually,” you answer in a flat tone.

“She got away?” His suspended disbelief at the implication was palpable.

You turn to look at him in confusion, your brows scrunching together. “No, of course not. She shot herself.”

It’s said as though any other outcome was preposterous. What on earth would she have done in that situation? Other than take her own life, put an end to all of it? The idea that Mae would’ve ever managed to escape and flee without being apprehended and, at best, beaten to death, was downright farcical. Joel froze, holding your gaze. “Shit,” he mumbles. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t think that’s what you meant.” “Yeah,” you whisper quietly. The water sloshes around you abruptly as Joel clings to you, pulling you into his arms with fervor. You’re caught off guard, but you quickly return the hug, wrapping your arms around his middle as he gently rocks  you back and forth in the water.

Each day carried on, and you found yourself slipping into the comfort of simple bonding with Joel. Grocery store trips. Trying out a recipe together. Walking hand in hand to and from the patrol station. You’d even managed to convince him to play something for you on the guitar and not just when you were already half asleep. It was a familiarity that evolved into an often uncomplicated shared intimacy.

You didn’t jump every time he surprised you with a hand on your back from behind. He could rub your leg as you sat next to each other on the couch, and it didn’t make you feel antsy. He leaned into your hand as it scratched along his scalp, his head lolling in your lap. He’d started to loosen up a bit and not hold back as much. Hugging you tighter. Holding you closer. Kissing you harder.

The feel of his lips against your own as you made out on the couch was absolutely divine. It made you feel giddy and light just to go in between lazy kisses and feverish making out, off and on for however long Ellie was out of the house with some friends. You giggle at the slip of his tongue curling between your bottom teeth and lip. 

“God you taste good,” he mutters.

“Not too much jerky flavor?” you titter against his mouth. You can feel him smile against yours.

“Mmmm, just the right amount. Really does it for me, ya know?” he teases. “Always dreamed of findin’ me a woman with a passion for dehydrated and cured meats.”

You snort a laugh at his harmless taunting and pull him back onto you. You roll your hips into his and swallow his groan. You wrap your legs around his back and cross your ankles at his tailbone, pulling him closer to you. He follows your lead and presses himself into you and meets your mouth in a passionate kiss. You moan and whimper at the unchecked pace, at the uninhibited way he licks and nips into your mouth.

His smell is intoxicating, and you quickly find yourself lost in him. The feel of him is all around you, and what began as a welcomed overwhelming sensation has begun shifting into something unnerving and overbearing. You ignore it, try to push past it, but your chest starts to feel tight. Joel is broad and strong above you, and he’s lost in the kiss you’re still eagerly returning. You make a trembling whimper he mistakes for encouragement to continue. He’s pressing into you, touching you, tasting you. It’s now suffocating and upsetting.

“J-Joel,” you shake out. He groans eagerly in response. Your heart is beating a million miles an hour. You need to stop. He needs to stop. You need for him to stop. Now.

“Joel.” It comes out clipped and tense, not at all the calm, casual remark you had planned. As expected, Joel immediately freezes and pulls up, giving himself enough space to wildly search your features for an answer of what he had changed, what had he done to make you feel uncomfortable. “No, no. It’s okay. I just need, I just think I need a minute, and I’ll be okay. Okay? J-Just a minute,” you insist with a shaky voice. Your lip trembles. The back of your eyes start to pinch. Joel doesn’t look convinced. You bring your hands to either side of his face, a soft gesture to prove your interlude is just that, nothing more. Anything but the truth. You can’t tell him the truth. You don’t know why your head is suddenly spinning. If he knows something is wrong, he might not let go again like this. It felt so good until it hadn’t. You couldn’t lose it. You couldn’t give Joel a reminder of how broken you were.

“Darlin’,” he starts, and the reluctance in his voice kills you. You rest his forehead against yours and close your eyes. You will just have to work through this at the same time that you are convincing him to not give this moment up. You try your best with attending to the whirlwind of anxiety gripping your gut and the deep-seated need for him to cover every square inch of your body in kisses. “No no no. It’s okay. It’s okay. I just-I just need a minute,” you beg. “That’s all. That’s it. Just give me a minute, Joel.” Your heavy breathing and antsy tone only serve to undermine your appeals. 

Your eyes flutter open from being screwed shut in concentration when you feel Joel shift above you.  He shakes his head and positions himself to sit beside you with a modest berth between you. You start to feel the anger bubble up inside your gut, threatening to rise up your throat and come out as acidic remarks.

“All I need– I just—” your lips tingle and burn. “Why can’t you just be patient with me?” you snap.

You aren’t sure why you’re acting so indignant. It wasn’t as if you deserved Joel’s patience, his understanding, his compassion. And yet here you were, demanding he return what wasn’t even rightfully yours.

“You’re forcin’ yourself to be okay with it, and I just can’t do that.” His tone is firm but tender.

“I’m not!” you argue, flinging yourself over him to straddle his lap as if to emphasize your point.

Your lips crash into his, but they weren’t met with the previous fervor. Joel yet again pulls away, and you grasp at the back of his head to pull him back. When you try to kiss him again, his arms find their way to you, gently restraining you enough to put space between you.

“Why won’t you just give me a minute?!” you bark, enraged at him shutting the entire moment down. Rejecting you. Rejecting your body, your advances - one of the few things you had of value to offer him. He starts to reposition you further away, but you beat him to the punch. You push off him and off the couch, stomping towards the door. Joel was behind you before you could cross the threshold, his arm blocking your passage as his hand gripped the doorjamb. Joel had just rejected you, and now he was refusing to let you wallow in your mortification privately. 

“Sweetheart, I’m givin’ you a minute by givin’ you some space,” he explains calmly. 

“No you’re not! You’re turning me down. Like-Like you don’t even want me. You could just give me a minute to think for a second.” You march angrily towards the wall, not sure where you were headed exactly, but unable to bear Joel being nearby. Your shame flares in his proximity. Again, he follows behind you, loudly enough that you instinctively know it is for your benefit. For some reason this only makes you angrier. You whip around, your back against the wall, to glare at the man who had rejected your advances and appeal to patience. “If you had just given me a SECOND I would have been fine!” You feel the angry tears brimming.

He holds his hands out to the side, open and welcoming but not demanding. Why won’t he just snatch you up and bury his tongue in your mouth? “I could have worked through it, Joel. I wanted to, but you wouldn’t let me! If you had just let me, if you had just given me a second I could’ve-” you croak. 

Your hands ball into tight fists, tightening even more as Joel’s face morphs into a sort of pitying expression.  “I could’ve done it. I could have been normal! It could have been normal. I could have done it if you had just let me. I could have worked through it and been fine and had a normal kiss with you I could’ve done it if you had just let me I could’ve been normal for you for once I could’ve been a normal-”

Your incoherent babbling dissolves into quiet sobs. You feel Joel’s familiar warm embrace surround you, grounding you. He shushes and soothes and caresses, all while you cry into his shoulder in defeat.

Your eyes are still red from yesterday afternoon. You splash ice cold water on your face. It doesn’t help. You’d left in a hurry once Joel let you go. You could feel he wanted to chase after you, to fix it, to comfort you, but he didn’t. He stopped himself because of you. Because you can’t handle basic physical interactions. You can’t handle being intimate with somebody, even if they’re safe and warm and soothing. None of that matters when you’re a broken person. Joel couldn’t do the normal thing of comforting you because you were nothing more than a hobbled mess of a person, fragments of humanity pieced together haphazardly. 

You’d been lying to yourself when you said you could be normal for him. You were never going to be normal for him, for anyone. He deserves more. He deserves more than somebody who can’t manage to avoid a panic attack, some several months of living in the sliver of paradise that still existed in the apocalypse. If you couldn’t be enough for him here, you’d never be enough for him anywhere.

Your shoes drag along the dirt as you make your way to his house. You’d watched for Ellie to leave. You weren’t sure how long you had. You hoped you could make it quick and painless for him. For you, though, you figured crying yourself to sleep tonight was a best case scenario.

Your knock on the door is timid. Nothing like the bouncing rap of knuckles you’d usually greet it with. The door swings open. Joel looks like he’s been waiting for you to show up. No surprise in his face whatsoever. His eyes are soft and light. It makes you want to burst into tears.

“Hey, darlin’. Come on i—”

“You deserve to be with someone who isn’t so much work,” you say flatly. 

Joel opens his mouth to argue, but you hold a hand up to stop him. “Please just listen to me, Joel.” 

He closes his mouth but looks as though he has already decided to disagree with whatever you plan on telling him. He wordlessly wraps an arm around your back and ushers you inside. You start speaking again before he has a chance to close the door. If you put this off, you’re sure to be a coward and not do what needs to be done. For Joel. You’re doing this for Joel. You aren’t going to burden him with your baggage. You have to break things off. He deserves someone normal. Someone capable of kissing him without having a meltdown.

“Please don’t take this like I want you to tell me I’m wrong and that you’re going to win me back or something. I-I’m serious, Joel. You deserve more than… more than what I can give you.” Your words get lodged in your throat, hot and sticky and heavy.

Joel rests his hands on his hips and relaxes a leg. He almost looks impatient with you. You try to hurry up and finish so you’re not wasting anymore of his time.

“I-I… It’s hard f-for me to accept, but I do accept it. I can’t make you happy, and you deserve to be happy,” you choke out. “I wish I could fix me, but I just don’t think it’s ever gonna happen.” Joel makes no move to comfort you or wipe away the tears that have started falling onto your cheekbones. Good. He’s already moving on. This is good. This is what you wanted. This is what’s best for him. He’s better without you dragging him down.

“I just know in the end it will not have been worth it. Just-Just wasting your  time - the little time we all have left in this awful world. I’m not going to let you waste it on me.” Your sniffles turn into rapid intakes of air before leveling out again. “Ya done?” he asks pointedly with a raised brow.

“I-Yes. I’m done,” you answer meekly. Now all that was left was for Joel to send you on your way.

“Good, because now it’s your turn to listen.” His eyes burn with something new. Something you’ve not seen before, certainly not directed at you. It makes your tummy flip. “All that? That’s not really for you to decide,” he says coolly. “Wh-What?” you balk. “What’s not for me to decide?” “What makes me happy. What is worth my time. How I want to spend the rest of my life.” His nostrils flare, but you know he’s not angry at you. Maybe some version of you that’s trying to run away. But not at you. You aren’t sure how you know it, but you do. “Joel,” you sigh, exasperated at his persistence. You knew there was a chance he would argue with you, but you still find yourself unprepared for the tenacity radiating from him. “No. You don’t get to decide any of that for me. If you didn’t want me - if you didn’t want us - that would be one thing. But this? This bullshit? Not your call, sweetheart.” Joel’s gaze levels with yours, and you could see in his eyes this was not a challenge you were going to win. “Joel, it’s not right for me to-”

He takes his first steps forward then. His entire palm covers your cheek. He tilts your head up. “Tell me you want to end things because you want them to end. Not because of me, not for some sort of happiness I’m supposed’ta have with you outta the picture. Tell me you want it over because you don’t want it,” he demands. “Say right now you don’t want me. That you don’t want us. Say it.” You open your mouth a few times, but the words to make Joel understand you were doing this for his benefit never materialize. “Tell me you don’t want me,” he demands again in a low voice, inching towards you so close you could feel his breath fanning on your face. “I can’t,” you admit in a shaky whisper. “Then that’s that,” he decides with finality. You blink back up at him, confused by his unwillingness to rid himself of the baggage that was you. Your eyes flit to his lips where his hot breaths plume against your skin. When you look back at him, something has changed. There is a determination there. “I’m gonna hold you real close now, and I’m gonna kiss you. You’re gonna kiss me back. And it’s gonna be like last time, but we’re really going to do it this time, you hear me?” 

His words aren’t a threat but a promise. You nod meekly, wide eyed with anticipation. True to his word, Joel sweeps you into his embrace, cupping the back of your head as he tilts it to the side. His lips brush yours in a whisper of a caress. His terse preamble is a contrast to the slow, unrushed, gentle movements against your mouth. Your eyes flutter shut at the pleasant sensation, your hands winding up to his neck and hair where you smooth and rub and grab. His tongue slips along your bottom lip, gaining purchase into your mouth in a smooth motion. The way he delicately and hungrily explores you makes your mind go hazy. You feel your body melting back into his arms against you and the subsequent pull as he takes on your weight. His hand steadies your neck while his forearm and elbow hold you against him, allowing his other hand to press firmly against your back as it glides up and down. Joel swallows the weak whimper from your lungs as you match his pace and return his affections.

He pulls from your lips with a gasp. You both catch your breath for a moment. His eyes search yours.

“We make decisions together. We’re in this together, and it ain’t right for you to go off and make these big choices for the both of us, you understand?” he asserts. There’s the edge of something pleading in his tone.

“O-Okay. I’m sorry, Joel,” you murmur softly. “I just didn’t want you to be—”

“Enough,” he interjects. “You belong here. You belong in Jackson with all the rest of us. And you’re crazy if you think I’m the only person who’s gonna let you push people away the second things get hard.”

You swallow around the lump in your throat and drop your eyes. His hand lifts your chin so you’re looking at him again.

“No runnin’. Not unless I’m right beside ya, runnin’ too,” he says sternly. “It’s us in it together.”

You nod your head slowly. “Okay. Together.”

“Together,” he agrees.

Hey friends,

I'm sorry there's been such a gap in between the last chapter and this one. This chapter in particular drudged up a lot of shit for me, and it made it really difficult to write. I'm not really sure how the chapter comes across because I've been sitting with it for so long. I've been getting a bit lost in it, so I decided to just leave it once it felt right.

Thanks for all your patience and understanding!

catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

[lunarspiral1127]

X-Men 97 episode 5 *SPOILERS*

The interviews

The reporter seemed nice and doesn't act like a typical controversial one. And, seeing Beast blush was adorable. But, Scott's interview was a doozy. What he said when he lashed out, well....he ain't wrong. I just thought Magneto would be the one to say those things, not Scott. Still, not wrong.

Jean/Scott/Madelyn/Logan drama

UGH! I hate love triangles that bring out so much stress and drama. And, I'm worried that Jean and Scott will break up because of the crap Mr. Sinister pulled. I wasn't expecting Jean to kiss Logan, and it was HIM who told her to go talk to Scott. Despite his feelings, he's still trying to be respectful to their relationship. But, seriously, Jean, why did you kiss him?!

Then apparently, Scott and Madelyn were checking up on each other telepathically, which I get why Jean would be mad at that. But, Madelyn during her time at the mansion WAS Jean and Scott thought that was her! They're the same! At least they were? Then again, they're in contact for a month and Jean kissed Logan once....UGH! I hate this drama. SINISTER THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!!!

Genosha

Beautiful. It was a paradise for mutants. They deserve this. The gala looked pretty, I liked the statues of Charles and Magneto, I was not expecting the Hellfire Club to be a part of this council cause I don't trust them (especially the crap they pulled in the previous show). Lots of cameos from other characters that I couldn't keep track on, but the place was lovely. It's a shame though on what happened later on....

Nightcrawler

This lovely, precious German Christian man. 🥰 I love Nightcrawler and I'm glad to see him in this show. The original voice actor who played him in the previous show still does a great job voicing him. And, he approves of Gambit and Rogue (adopted sister) being together, so that's extra bonus points. He got a new look compared to his previous one, but I still like it. Then when the massacre happened, I was so worried that he was gonna die. Thank goodness he survived, but I hate seeing him so hurt.

Gambit/Rogue/Magneto drama

I hate this love triangle SO MUCH! We get an explanation on how Rogue and Magneto got together, and I'm questioning how old she was when they first met and whether Magneto was influencing her in a bad way. Either way, still don't like this ship. Even when them dancing looked good animated, I STILL don't like it. Plus, it still doesn't make sense cause they've been against each other in the previous show, where there was no signs of the two having that past relationship.

Anyway, I'm glad Rogue finally told Gambit the truth, and I feel so bad for him. But, he knew what she wanted and how much it hurt, even going as far as to distance himself, which he showed a lot of emotional maturity, so respect to that. But, that thing where he'll lead Genosha if Rogue stays as his "queen"? DA FUQ?! Look, I like Magneto, but I did not like that. Still wish Rogue could've gotten one of those collars to nullify her powers so that she can touch Gambit. Would've solved a lot of drama, just saying.

I was SO relieved though, that Rogue said that he was right, and rejected Magneto, but I wish she could've done that without kissing him right where Gambit can see it. Either way, it seemed like she'll choose Gambit and not stay with Magneto in Genosha, THANK GOD!

So, you think this would be the end of that love triangle right? Well, yes and no? Cause what happened afterwards hurt like hell.

Genosha Massacre

So, a giant Master Mold thing showed up, killing mutants and destroying Genosha. It was cool seeing Cable again trying to stop it and seeing his mom after so long, which is a glimmer of hope but I'll get to that later. So, many people died. Sebastian Shaw, Calypso, Banshee, Marrow, pretty sure that was Dazzler or Moira not sure, and three more that hurt me so much.

Magneto. Okay, I may not like that love triangle, but I didn't hate the guy. Dude was fighting that Sentinel with a train as a whip, that was pretty cool. And, he tried to protect the Molocks. He tried to protect Leech! He got Rogue and Gambit out of the way. What hurt the most was he told Leech not to be afraid IN GERMAN! Again, didn't want him to die. Although, I wished he could've used his magnetism to push the Molocks away like he did with Rogue and Gambit, but nope. They all died!

Leech. Precious innocent Leech. He was just a kid, man! And, he got to hang out with other mutants his age. He was making friends. Only for this to happen. And, not a lot of people talk about Leech and what happened to him. But, I liked him, and that hurt.

And, finally, the one that hurt the most.....Gambit.....Remy.

He went out like a hero. He sacrificed himself to destroy that Sentinel from killing even more mutants. "The name's Gambit, mon ami. Remember it." Well, now we know why this episode is called Remember It, cause it was Gambit's last words. And, if that wasn't enough, Rogue holding onto him, crying over his body, finally able to touch him....only to not feel him.

THAT. FREAKING. HURT. SO. BAD!!! 😭 Gambit was one of my favorite X-Men characters, and I legit was crying seeing that end. It really hurt to see that happen to him, but at least he went out saving people. However! There is that slight glimmer of hope! Cable. He tried to go back to stop this, who's to say he won't try again? Time travel shenanigans will happen and he can team up with Bishop and the rest of the X-Men to prevent this from happening. It happened many times before, it can happen here. And, maybe, just maybe, Gambit, Leech, Magneto, and all those people won't have to die. This may the denial talking, but I'll be so pissed if Gambit's dead and he Rogue won't be together for good anymore, cause that would be bullcrap.

God, how am I gonna be okay when we're getting Storm and Forge vs. The Adversary next week?! And, jeez, if things keep up like this, Storm is gonna return to the whole mansion on fire. I can't imagine what her and everyone's reactions are gonna be when they find out about Gambit and even Magneto.

Anyway, good episode. Much better than last week's. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go find a way to cope from all of that.

[3liza]

i think the part of A Rape In Cyberspace that caught my attention the most on this read-through a few days ago was the part where they are convening the meeting of the MOO users to discuss what to do about the rapist and he finally shows up and they ask him what the fuck is his problem. and he says it was a social experiment. and the description of the reaction of the crowd is really interesting

“Asshole,” spat Karl Porcupine, “creep.” But the harshest of the MOO’s hostility toward him had already been vented, and the attention he drew now was motivated more, it seemed, by the opportunity to probe the rapist’s mind, to find out what made it tick and if possible how to get it to tick differently. In short, they wanted to know why he’d done it. So they asked him. And Mr. Bungle thought about it. And as eddies of discussion and debate continued to swirl around him, he thought about it some more. And then he said this: “I engaged in a bit of a psychological device that is called thought-polarization, the fact that this is not RL simply added to heighten the affect of the device. It was purely a sequence of events with no consequence on my RL existence.” They might have known. Stilted though its diction was, the gist of the answer was simple, and something many in the room had probably already surmised: Mr. Bungle was a psycho. Not, perhaps, in real life — but then in real life it’s possible for reasonable people to assume, as Bungle clearly did, that what transpires between word-costumed characters within the boundaries of a make-believe world is, if not mere play, then at most some kind of emotional laboratory experiment. Inside the MOO, however, such thinking marked a person as one of two basically subcompetent types. The first was the newbie, in which case the confusion was understandable, since there were few MOOers who had not, upon their first visits as anonymous “guest” characters, mistaken the place for a vast playpen in which they might act out their wildest fantasies without fear of censure. Only with time and the acquisition of a fixed character do players tend to make the critical passage from anonymity to pseudonymity, developing the concern for their character’s reputation that marks the attainment of virtual adulthood. But while Mr. Bungle hadn’t been around as long as most MOOers, he’d been around long enough to leave his newbie status behind, and his delusional statement therefore placed him among the second type: the sociopath. And as there is but small percentage in arguing with a head case, the room’s attention gradually abandoned Mr. Bungle and returned to the discussions that had previously occupied it.

it's the idiot vs villain dichotomy spelled out very clearly, one we still deal with on a daily basis online. poe's law, and before that, hanlon's razor. it stuck out to me a lot this time, im not sure why

edit; i also completely forgot about the twist. i forgot there even was one, but its a doozy

[madstronaut]

prepareth thineselves for another doozy of a ramblecommentating

obligatory alphalist link:

the pining. THE MOTHERFUCKING PINING IN THIS STORY is enough to power a standard size nuclear plant imo and madstronaut is here to do her civic duty as a staunch supporter of the environment and fighting fossil fuels, yes, truly the main reason i read smutty/yearny fic-

Reading: Christian Woman by @kneelingshadowsalome

“You don’t know how it even happened, but you became friends with a foreign man visiting your city.” 

this is basically reverse tinder iykyk

“You feel warm and safe with him, lost inside a soft bubble you quickly create in the corner table of a cellar cafe.”

 this very aptly desscribes how this story makes me feel. i cried the first time i read it through fully; just made me feel so many emotions 🥹🥹🥹

Perhaps it’s the dimly lit environment or perhaps it’s just him, but you have one of the deepest conversations ever with this mysterious man.

i hope everyone experiences the happy accident of a spontaneous deep conversation with a stranger - feels like God/the universe just gifting you a random act of kindness

“Well… I don’t do twerking, but yes, nuns are allowed to dance.” girl you about to do a lot more than that very soon 

You can see he hasn’t skipped a leg day either, and immediately chastise yourself for checking out his butt in the coffee queue.

*when God sings with his creations, will not König's ass be part of the choir*

You know it’s an attempt to make you forgive his choice of career when he reveals to you that his best mission was when he saved thirty women from sex trafficking. And it does make your heart crack open a little.

just speaking personally quite a heady experience to have someone attempt to better themselves for you but way too easy for this dynamic go from sexy/flattering to emotionally off-kilter - how does the phrase go? with great pus-power comes great responsibility

Actually, you catch him looking at your breasts, scanning your body and cherishing the tender spot between your collarbones more times than you can count. They’re quick, stolen moments, so harmless that you choose to stay quiet.

🥰🥺🥰🥺

He listens to your every word with a softening glow in his eyes, a shimmer that spreads across the table and makes you feel warm all over. fucking LOVE THIS LINE

König always softens in your presence... You always tense up in his. 

Your face is flushed, and you blame it on the overcrowded cafe. You feel both safe and in danger with him, and it must be the virgin inside you talking.

this is such a great description of how a good ole crush feels - “you feel both safe and in danger with him”

 It’s bubbly and lively and colourful, just like your friend; it’s the opposite of König, the special operations soldier who’s dark, intriguing, and intimate, just like the dimly lit cellar cafe you meet him in secret.

total sidenote but since I was just recently there - you wanna talk bright bubbly cafe next to dim cellar cafe - bedford cheese shop next to irving farm coffeeshop on irving place off union square in nyc fits these descriptions exactly lol

"Soldiers are crazy. I once dated this peacekeeper,” your friend continues in her usual chirpy way.

why did the following description make me think of john cena peacemaker, who does indeed own a fleshlight in the show 😂😂😂

And at times, hearing about all the things your friend has gone through, being an onlooker to all that heartbreak and pining and loss, has managed to strengthe your resolve. a whole moooooood

“No, seriously. We’re talking about fistfights and broken bones. Dating apps would explode. People would get killed.”

we all need a friend like this 😂

 If anything, you’re scared of men, and you loathe the dating world. You’re put off by shallow commitments and one-night stands and getting ghosted and God knows what else.

omg it me????

You always told your friend that Jesus Christ is the most stable man you’ve ever met, and you will stick with him.

recalling all those worship songs nicknamed “Jesus is my boyfriend” songs in youth group growing up😂😂😂😂

“Stable? Excuse me, but didn’t he start a riot or something at the temple? Are we talking about the same dude who lead an uprising against the Romans? Hung out with whores, raised corpses from the dead, fucked around and found out until someone nailed him at the cross? Stable my ass!”

I want to banghang out with this Jesus tbh amigoingtohellfortypingthatmaybesavemeJesus😉

Your friend's enthusiastic grin turns into an uneasy, pitying smile when she realises how deep into this man you actually are. 

i knew she was a goner when she started talking about his hands

If you're chosen by God, your friend is chosen by the Devil, that's for sure. like i said WE ALL NEED A FRIEND LIKE THIS 😂

There’s no chaos and no guns and no tall men with big dicks, no Austrian war criminals trying to seduce you and then discard you after their deployment ends. 

There’s only a man with a kind smile, warm eyes, and a nice, husky laugh. Some good coffee with distant notes of chocolate and perfectly civil conversations about European philosophers and the crisis of modern thought. 

WHY NOT BOTH?

Sturdy walls support you; they have held you for centuries, and the crucifix above you has given hope to so many people before you. The ever-safe embrace of your faith envelops you, and you can always trust that you are loved, even when you’re flawed and incomplete. 

Even with indecent thoughts, you can pray for mercy and ask for forgiveness. Even if you have impure urges towards your Austrian mercenary, you can still pray for him... It’s the least you can do to repay the kindness he has given you.

i appreciate how fleshed out our nun reader is <3 i found myself in a weird limbo of wanting her to remain true to herself while still navigating her faith (as someone also on a post(idk tbh?)-faith journey i find her spiritual self-wrestling very relatable and familiar)

You don’t want to draw the Lord’s attention to you while your hand travels down beneath the sheets, your thoughts wandering to a certain god-like soldier with eyes like burning ice.

probs goin to hell for this (but im on tumblr so im already here??? lmao) but S i r if u invented the whole concept u can at least watch and give me pointers/tips

And that’s ok - physical touch like that is ok. Holding hands is not.

truly the absolute dirtiest sluttiest thing you can do fr fr let me say it once again with my whole chest 👏HOLDING👏HANDS👏IS👏FOR👏 SLUTSSSSSS👏 (it's me, the slut, im the slut)

It finds you in silence, envelops your tiny palm completely, squeezes you softly and emanates so much heat that a cord of fire shoots across your arm and straight into your heart. 

i remember my first innocent hand holdings/cheek kisses and they felt EXACTLY like this, reading this felt like salome went digging into my brainfolds and pulled the sensations out and put them in writing 🤯

The only thing you ever craved for was another slice of cake. omg nun reader your innocence is adorable all the better when watching it break

“I’m sure you’ll find some other girl to… hold hands with,” you say, hating how bitter and self-pitying you sound. holy self-sabotage, batman - NUNREADER DONT DO THISSSSS

“I’m sorry too,” he laments, but the corner of his mouth curves slightly up. “So sorry you wouldn’t even believe…”  excuse me while i mop myself off the floor; melted right off my chair

You wonder if he’d pay you a visit if you told him where you sleep. You wonder if your single bed would creak if he tried to make love to you on it... You wonder if you could muffle your cries when you clenched with him inside you. If he’d groan too loudly when he reached his peak…

nun reader can i interest you in an alternate, similarly unpaid career trajectory of…*drumroll* SMUTTY FIC WRITING???? pls i will send u an ao3 invite and comment on every 5th syllable of your stories and be your 2nd-biggest personal hypebae (first one being her own bff who would be over the moon ofc)

The back door is always open too because some of the nuns are smokers.

im deeefinitely picturing nun!aubrey plaza from the little hours below

“Of course not. I will pray for you every day,” you smile with a good amount of affection. It has the same effect as saying something like “I want to blow you right here on this street” because your Austrian giant gets visibly excited. spit my fuckin tea out at this, fucking hilarious

the giant soldier who now carries a piece of your heart with him. You wonder if he even knows he owns it. 🥺🥺🥺reminds me of old crushes/lovers who broke my heart. did u know how much you held when you had a piece of it? steadfastly not thinking of the ones i broke too🤪

The morning prayers and mass are a chore and bring you no comfort, and the usual dawn bliss is gone.

i have often heard it said both in a spiritual and practical context that when your peace leaves a place, you should pay attention and leave with it and it’s still a very relevant and wise piece of advice imho

But at the same time, you know it must’ve been the Lord who brought you together. There must be a reason for God to make you two meet, you refuse to think it’s only because He wishes to tempt you. There must be a bigger plan; the connection, as sinful and carnal as it is, has to serve some higher purpose. 

tw for churchish talk so pls skip if its not your cup of tea but without getting into all the fucked up stuff that is the monstrosity of evangelical churchianity, personally speaking one of the earliest places (and most constant sources) i learned about self-worth and compassion and love and extending it to myself and others was through people of faith (i know this might be ironic/offensive to some because believe me i have also been there in being traumatized/antagonized by ppl of faith as well but trying my best to hold all our different experiences and perspectives in hand to be able to see listen and understand the good the bad and grey and everything in between in a nuanced way, anyway story of my life); i wish i could offer similar encouragement i heard to nunreader - omg, can we instead focus on the verses/stuff in bible like Christ coming to set us free, not keep us chained to laws, God is love, loving God and others are apparently the two most important things in the faith and everything else rests on these two, also there is a shitttttton of smut in the bible coughsong of songs, the book no one ever preaches aboutcough and also i dont think the supposed inventor of sex hates sex, anyway ending my shittylittle fauxsermon/rant here but end of tw, back to the fic~

And you wonder if you’re going mad, because your most sinful thought is that you actually see God in him. i know reader is deep in the cups of churchthought but this is honestly one of the most beautiful things ive read; i want to (and imho i do) ‘see God’ - see something divine, beautiful wondrous heavenly full of love and joy and peace and gentleness and kindness and all that other stuff from that galatians bit i dont recall now- in the people I love too

You decide to hold on to this thought: that you were meant to meet so that you could come to know God through each other. cough once again trawling through some old memories resurfacing from my churchish days but apparently one of the meanings of the original hebrew word for to know in the bible also meant to have sex with, i am 1000% serious👀👀👀

You wear your everyday clothes to the café, and König says nothing about your sudden moral choice, only gives you another longing, enamored once-over.

recalling an old convo with a guyfriend when we were discussing/joking about modesty and clothing and i joked that the ultimate level was a nun habit/outfit - in complete seriousness though he turned to me and said to a man in lust/love, the right woman has nothing she could wear that wouldn’t tempt him - including a nun outfit - and ive never forgotten what he said lol. I joked about ankles sticking out and then of course we dove into a deep discussion on the existential nature of feet fetishes. in hindsight, apologies to anyone nearby we may have traumatized/offended that june afternoon in washington square park

You hate it that the bright, playful air of your meetings is gone, and your heart is tearing itself apart in your chest because the only thing you wanted was to spread joy into his world. Even the Lord seems disappointed in you being so cold-hearted, and you can’t bear to see His sadness and suffering in König’s eyes.

all he has to do is sneak inside your heart and take the place that belongs to God. You don’t even feel the difference as he makes himself at home. 

Well, actually, you do... It’s like your Christ’s love and mercy have finally come to flesh and blood before you. They're materialized in the man sitting opposite of you, bouncing his knee excitedly and grinning like the most innocent little devil on Earth. 

peak yearning right here. also i think salome captures thoughtprocess of nunreader so well in her eventually assauging her Intense Catholic Guilt™️ by basically equating König to Jesus/God, the only man nuns are allowed to simp for (if anyone is offended by the near-constant blasphemous shit in this post - tbh my whole blog - pls say a prayer for me lol)

“I–I can’t just escape from the window.” my SISTER in CHRIST, you just gave away your whole escape plan LMAO

But everything feels so right that it can’t be a sin – if it is, it just so happens to be the most natural, most divine thing to do too.

nunreader i am cheering you on with little party hats and confetti bombs in spirit-

Everything’s so tight and earthly; everything’s so… there. Visible... Touchable.

very into how nunreader is feeling herself here. yes my queen get ready to fucking get ittttttt

And König has seen you without makeup all this time, so what on earth has possessed you to lament the fact that you don’t own a single case of lipstick? You’d kill for a few sweeps of mascara, too, just to bat your lashes at a silly man.

i am restraining the urge to dive into the screen into this story with my makeup kit to Give Reader A Mini-Makeover (i fucking LOVE those scenes in stories/shows/movies and also for me makeup is art and the canvas is my face/body and i enjoy perfecting my art on the daily- totally forget over the pandemic how much i enjoyed putting on makeup before going to work)

“Here, kitty, kitty…” why is this extremely goofy and sexy at the same time? peak König vibes tbh

Whenever you’re with your sisters, the feeling is pure, pristine love, not a surge of complex emotions and thrill like it is with König.

why not both, my sister, why not both? something something love is a many splendored thing - shakespeare probably

You walk the streets with a flower in one hand and his palm in the other. this is the cutest fucking thing ive ever read so far i am biting my pillow to shreds~ also König handfeeding strawberries to sis at the restaurant?? someone call 911 for public indecency???? hot damn and you were worried bout HOLDING HANDS???

He's nervous, too... Your cruel soldier is nervous, and kind, and shy because he's pressed against you. every girls dream 🥰🥰🥰

instantly getting hard from a first kiss does feel very könig-coded, do not @ me

You hear whistles and whoos in the distance, some men yelling, “Let’s go!” and “Get a room” while they pass by. not me also joining in-

The world revolves like it always has, as you choose a crucified man over the one who’s flesh and blood and holds you through your pain. not me getting together a petition.org straight to Jesus to cut our sister some slack-

“The world tests us in many ways... But Lord never tests us. He only loves us.”

on this note i remember being briefly fascinated by nuns/priests as a young madstronaut - mostly fascinated by these women living sans men in such a male-dominated world/space and foregoing sex/marriage (anyway little did i know of religious patriarchy and such then) but knowing what i know now, that under all the collars and habits and wimples are still regular people/human beings - i wonder how many IRL Christian Women fics are being lived out right now somewhere 👀coughBEFREEMYSISTERScough 

He just now crossed your mind when you remember how he used to smell: of salty seabreeze mixed with intoxicating musk, the scent of excitement and safety all in one.

smellsandbells are my bread butter and jam! research has also shown the sense of smell is strongly linked with memory too and i can attest to this

The tallest man you’ve ever seen steps out from the dark in full combat gear, and while you can’t see his face because it’s covered with a draping black hood, you recognize it’s him simply from the way he moves. 

do not resist dear sister, no one can when COD men deck themselves out in full gear, its simply not physically spiritually mentally emotionally chemically possible, cold scientific fact, biblical gospel, incontrovertible truth, in this annotated research paper i will-

You must look like a frightened deer because König mistakes your horrified look as sweet, simple concern.

“Don’t worry... They have it much worse, I assure you,” he says with his usual grin – you can hear it from the way he says it that he’s smiling. okay König fucking would say something like this lmao READ THE ROOM SIR but also sister has it d o w n  b a d if shes able to recognize him just by the way he moves and “hear him smiling” iykyk

So when he asks you if there are any motels or a bed & breakfast nearby, you say you know just the place. sir i see right through your schemes and i am giving my 100% certified stamp of approval tbh i wouldn’t have even put it past him in this fic if he stabbed himself in a nonlethal area so sister can see some skin without ICG in teh way (Intense Catholic Guilt™️)

You suppose this is what your friend calls a happy trail... 

And it does make you very happy. 

you and me both sister, you and me both

“Pay no mind to that,” he says thickly and completely without shame. “ pay no mind? my brother in christ you are giving free handouts (trying not to let my brain rot away thinking of double entendres here)

“I wrote to you, Braut Christi... Many times. Never sent the letters… They’re still in my room, at the base.” sir sir if i can guess at the contents of some (most?) of these letters…may I ALSO interest you in an alternate albeit unpaid career trajectory of smutty fic writing-

You wonder if hearts can find each other, even through a distance, and if you’ve felt the urge to go to the flower he gave you at the same time König has gotten the desire to write another letter to you. It’s bittersweet, like this whole thing between you two, the mystery that both brings you together and rips you apart. 

damn this is peak writing right here. this rivals published writing ive read, all my standing ovations, slow claps, and hats off to you salome~ i go through tons and tons of fic in hopes to read sentences like these and stories like yours ❤️❤️❤️honestly their whole exchange with sis kneeling by him as he falls asleep is peak yearning/tenderness 

also nunreader’s “why exactly does König like me so much, is it because of any other possible reason other than myself” is peak relatability - once again restraining myself from grabbing reader through the screen and giving them white-board scrawled peptalks breaking down why they are amazing and worthy

He must be getting better if he’s behaving like this... The man’s insufferable enough when he’s uninjured, but now that he’s getting pampered, he’s somehow even worse. 😂😂😂 sis finally gettin the memo

Your only summer dress resides at your parent’s house as a relic from the past, a token from your life before sisterhood. this is true, i recall reading that once someone enters the convent/monastery they basically get given one nun/priest outfit and like maybe a backup one when the main one gets washed? my new yorker fashionloving ass could never

 “No, I’m not. I’m just some woman you bumped into in the street.”

“That’s exactly what an angel would say.”

😂😂😂

You sigh: it’s useless with König, hopeless, like trying to wrestle with God. No matter what you say or do, he always turns it against you in the sweetest possible way. as someone with the near-useless superpower of getting weird inside baseball bible/sunday school/youth group jokes/references however vague in modern lit/culture when they appear i appreciate the “wrestle with God” reference, peak research vibes

also the last line here really smacks of the nicer interpretation of what the abbess told sis: “God doesn’t test us, he loves us” <3

 There’s nothing sexual about it, so why not?

she says “aint nothin sexual bout lyin in a bed, the primary location where people usually have sex, with an almost nude man who is horny/erect 95% of the time he is around you, alone, in what i can only describe as a an ideal small town honeymoon suite while it is moodily raining outside” my sister in christ, do you recall lying (yes even to yourself) is a s i n

also i have never been catholic but hot damn i was also blushing and did think König is fucking s h a m e l e s s reading about him feeling up sis STILL IN HER HABIT 😂

He’s ever so grateful for his saving angel, who he gets to cuddle “as a reward”. You don’t quite know if it's a reward for you or him.

once again my sister in christ w h y n o t b o t h (also im deliriously pleased i can use sister in christ with multi-layered meanings here)

“Perhaps we’ll stay there... Forget all this,” he chatters lazily, clearly in the same sweet bubble as you. ive always found it so sweet and vulnerable and tender hearing bfs/guys muse and daydream about a future together 🥰🥰 just hits different when boys do it, and openly too

 the last of your armour, your pride and shame and vows, drift away like they were made of nothing but simple steam. 

But there’s nothing to hold on to but him, so you anchor yourself in the dark hunger of his eyes.

That’s all the reply you get: a pleased, filthy stare of someone who’s about to wreck you up.

“Come here,” he says while you’re already locked in an inseparable embrace.

*chefs kiss* these lines are perfection

You start to cry in full, not even knowing why. You just know you’ve wanted this for ages. This connection, this ecstasy, this mutual presence and fulfilment, this sense of belonging to someone. 

*nodding along sagely* yes cathartic cries are the best cries

your pussy wakes up after recovering from the initial shock… For some reason, it is vital for you not to let the old receptionist know that a humble sister of Christ is getting licked to ruin in his establishment. 

HAHAHA SALOME OMFG ABSOLUTELY SCREECHED READING THIS

You’re going through several stages of ego death and bliss; you’re going through a crisis of faith and multiple rebirths while König is having a field day with your pussy. Honestly completely normal reaction imho

All thoughts of What if he doesn’t enjoy it evaporate when you see the demanding erection between his legs, pointing at you so viciously that you feel pity for the fabric of his pants.

fics that have genital personification have a special place in my heart. also i did not expect to write such a sentence today or in my life but here i am, thank you tumblr

You’re not wearing any bra; you stopped wearing them years ago as useless and immoral. ok hold up one moment why are bras immoral lol girl unless you are small enough to join the free the nip movement without penalities a good support system is vital!!!

“You naughty girl…” he says thickly.

tbh in context of entire fic König calling sis a naughty girl is probably the hottest thing he’s said…sir where did u get all this rizz

“Want to see what I got?”

…forget what I said about the rizz, this is the fucking goofiest follow-up he could say 😂😂😂 salome has König vibes down pat

You’re mesmerized to see him already tensing from the chest up, the tendons on his neck becoming visible as he grits his teeth together. 🥰🥰🥰 an absolute vision

It's riddled with chants of Put it in and Forget about the bloody plastic because even with your zero experience you know it wouldn't feel as good as skin *me, reading, also joining in the chant*

The room must be smelling like a sex cave by now. protip: make sure the smell is gone if you have guests coming over

It makes you smile; him being so happy with simple things such as good food and some kinky sex, a nice cuddle and a nap to top it off. giggling at nunreader thinking humping is kinky UGH WHY ARE YOU SO SWEET AND ADORABLE i just want to take you on a shopping and makeup spree and introduce you to things like bubble tea, dry shampoo, glossier merch, weekend farmer's markets at union square, the hot barista/server at veselka's-

“This is what I call liking someone so much it hurts.” 🥺🥺🥺 couldnt seduce a woman if he tried my ass

König learns your body language; he knows it like a native speaker by the end of the week. EAT YOUR HEART OUT DUOLINGO (please dont kill me i'll fix my streak i promise)

König only smiles on the bed while you treat him; it’s like his master plan finally worked. I FUCKIN CALLED IT

“I would never hurt you….and no one ever will.” their whole conversation here is one of my favorite scenes in the whole story.

Without mentioning König or what you’ve been up to lately, you simply tell her you’ve decided to move on with your life. yes, i am one of those plebs who clap when the plane lands, but for dramatic turning points in fanfic

You receive lots of well wishes, hugs, even tears when you tell others you’re leaving. Embarrassed that you almost got rid of your robes and sneaked out to another secret lover’s meeting without even saying farewell, you meet everyone with full presence until you find yourself crying too. 

i love a fic that has lore and a bit of worldbuilding so well-built that you want to look around corners and peek into windows and doorways about what else there is - i found myself wondering about sister’s relationships here with the other nuns - but also loved that last phrase of reader finally feeling whole, “meeting everyone with full presence” after feeling so fractured and divided the first half of the story 👏👏👏we love a good full circle fic 👏👏👏

No wonder men die younger – you’d have to tie this specimen to a sturdy lamp post if you wanted him to stay put... i too think this everytime i see some dumb bullshit, mostly on @drunkpeopledoingthings

“Well, you’ve seen me,” you extend your hands to your sides, knowing you’ve already lost. “You can go back now.” there's something just very delicious watching someone fight a losing battle

desire pools, brims, until you feel like you can’t breathe anymore. loooooooove this phrasing

This must be one of the craziest things you’ve done in your life says reader, of having sex for the first time, a near universal experience

To you, he’s all men in one, the sheer mass of him making your thighs tremble from want. 🥰🥰🥰reader in love is so poetic <3

also yes squeaky beds are my kink, ty for including salome 🥰🥰🥰

also sis describing her pussy “hugging” dick has got to be the fluffiest smut ive ever read🥰🥰🥰

Ten times more powerful than the most blissful experiences with your God, you want to come here for worship again and again, to have his body entangled with yours. ah yes to know König is to know God indeed 😏😏😏😏😏

When done, he sinks half his weight on you, thoroughly spent, and you feel fulfilled, some deep-seated joy taking hold of everything that once was hollow. Curiously, all shame is absent. 🥹🥹🥹 i love this line so much. i hope everyone is able to experience this, especially if you like me have had some religious purity culture trauma in your life - there is no shame in love <3

The happiness, the pure joy in his eyes, is heartbreaking. At that moment, you know that all his silly jokes, follies, and babbles about taking you to the mountains and whisking you away have been real. They have been true, honest wishes... There is no lie in him, no jest, no fakeness. Just pure, simple joy from hearing that you finally chose him, too. 🥹🥹🥹

The old man doesn’t even care to look surprised when he sees you clothed in jeans and a simple shirt this time, smiling as you rush upstairs, hand in hand with König. okay but shoutout to this dude, you a real one for being the best unintentional wingman this side of europe

You can’t wait to sleep with him tonight: simply sleep with him, finally, curl up together in safety, do the most basic thing all lovers do. You can’t wait to wake up to a fresh dawn together, lovely, curious, and new. 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

You take new vows: promising to yourself to live each day fully and bravely, and never again shut your heart. 

The only thing left of you on your old bed is your black and white robe, and on it, a crucifix and a rose, and a note that says:

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love… But the greatest of these is love.

screaming crying i cant even explain how this fic made me feel, some mixture of joy and heartbreak and catharsis and healing all wrapped up in one as i found so many parallels both with reader and König at times and isn’t that just some of the best things about great stories, when it helps us see and feel and know and love ourselves and others in new ways we couldn’t before?

i wanted to do this absolutely lovely fic justice so ive literally been sprinkling comments on this during re-reads for months; i will close with a fitting - and catholic - quote that i love:

“There is a twilight zone in our hearts that we ourselves cannot see. Even when we know quite a lot about ourselves-our gifts and weaknesses, our ambitions and aspirations, our motives and our drives-large parts of ourselves remain in the shadow of consciousness. This is a very good thing. We will always remain partially hidden to ourselves. Other people, especially those who love us, can often see our twilight zones better than we ourselves can. The way we are seen and understood by others is different from the way we see and understand ourselves. We will never fully know the significance of our presence in the lives of our friends. That's a grace, a grace that calls us not only to humility, but to a deep trust in those who love us. It is the twilight zones of our hearts where true friendships are born.” - quote by Henri Nouwen, catholic priest

[aintashes]

this one is a doozy... but i don't think anyone really understands that daryl's body has never truly felt like his own.

he was severely abused by both of his parents, which in itself destroys a child's concept of bodily autonomy. merle wasn't much better; abused siblings sometimes abuse each other, too, and obviously merle never grew out of using daryl as a ( mental, emotional, and physical ) punching bag.

merle used to literally, canonically, sell daryl's blood for extra money when daryl was a kid because of his O- blood type. i cannot stress this enough: what do you do and how do you end up feeling when you're nothing but a child and the literal blood inside of your veins isn't yours anymore?

it's why daryl has such a hard time with bodily autonomy, and why it's one of the biggest problems he struggles with throughout the whole show. especially in times of high stress, he desperately needs to feel like his body is his, and you can actually see it:

when he struggles to find his footing inside of alexandria for the first little while because he feels like he's suffocating in a glass box that he can't escape from; in the different bits of dialogue where he tells people that he doesn't belong to anyone; when he tells negan that he's just daryl to let him know that he can't take that away from him; in the way he runs away so often from controlling situations and tends to lash out when he is indignant; in that scene with aaron and buttons the horse where he says you used to be somebody's, huh? now you're just yours; and i could go on forever. the ways he shows it quiet down later on in the show and are much less brash, but it's all very much still there.

and it's no question, then, why he allows himself and his body to be used by his group time and time again— because as much as he desperately grasps for his autonomy, his people are the most important thing in his life and he would do anything for them. he has done anything and everything for them. and he's let them know many times when he doesn't agree with what they're having him do ( much of the time, it's rick ), but he does it anyway, like when he's asked to continue leading the sanctuary even when it's killing him inside.

it's worth it to note that daryl doesn't actually think this way in the forefront of his mind. there's no malice behind what he does for his family— his highest and most powerful motivator in life is his love for them. all of the above statements happen deep below the surface of his psyche. but from a writing and character study perspective: at least if his body is being scarred and bloodied and used, it's sometimes his choice, and it's by the people he loves the most.