#truly dark without a speck of white

[idontknowmyownmind]

RokCale brother AU:

KRS reincarnated as Cale's younger brother and because his first life is more fucked up than canon, he become unhinged in an obsessive way toward Cale, codependency and attachment issue at best

Cale is older by 5 years than Roksu and he basically Roksu's primary caretaker since their mother's death

Roksu is a sly and manipulative kid, always monopolize his hyung's time and attention

He doesn't like to share and want to keep his brother for himself, even from their family

Roksu resent Deruth who 'hurt' Cale, although not openly show it

He harbor ill feeling toward Basen and Violan who made Cale 'sacrifice' himself

But Roksu never trully hurt them, just make their life a 'little bit' difficult because he doesn't want to make his hyung sad or upset for seeing them 'hurt'

Ron is the only one who is aware of Roksu's darker side because he always with the brothers

Let's say that Roksu 'threatened' him to keep quiet

Roksu never let people get to close with Cale nor he let his hyung attached to someone other than him

It's subtle but Roksu always isolating Cale from other people whose not him

People know Roksu as a silent but good and obedient kid while they see Cale as the unruly brother

In a way, Roksu also adding fuel to rumor regarding Cale so no one ever approach him to take him away

[teddybeartoji]

suguru geto is unbelievably captivating.

he catches your eye immediately – standing tall, he's got one hand on the subway pole to keep his balance. his hair is tucked into his hoodie with only a few strands left out to frame his face. you can only see his side profile but it's enough; a sharp, prominent jawline and a beautiful nose, thin eyebrows, a pierced lip and a pair of tired eyes. you feel bad for thinking it but the dark bags under them leave you no other option.

afternoon sun peeks from the windows behind him, successfully making the scene before you seem like a painting. the colors move; the shades of green flashing by as trees wave you goodbye, the different hues of the tired grays, of the big buildings taking up space as the base of the canvas. splashes of black and white and silver and beige are thrown into the mix, too. his slacks, his big headphones, his jewellery, his totebag. but what truly brings it all together, is his deep, dark maroon hoodie; there's a hint of purple in it aswell, and you just think it's one of the best colors you've ever seen. you figure the thought is a bit silly, but you can't get it out of your head.

something so comforting about it, something so warm and welcoming. something a little murky about it. you can't look away.

you forget about everybody else around you. for you, it's just him in this moment. a total stranger. you don't know him and you probably never will; a pang of hurt hits right under your ribs at the thought. you wonder what his name is, you wonder how his voice sounds. how warm his hands are, and what's his favourite color. no, he doesn't seem like the type to have a favourite color. childish. you'd have to ask about a favourite drink or a book perhaps instead. you're fine with that.

you can spot a few rings on his fingers, a silver watch and a bracelet or two peering from under his sleeve. his hands are pretty. they look good. you also think that you can see a tattoo sprouting from under the collar of his hoodie but the dark lines are blending in with the strands of his hair, so you can't be sure. you want to be sure.

your foot taps against the floor or the cart, your body itching to scoot a little closer to him. you want to see his whole face. you need to. fidgeting with your own fingers, you continue observing the man in front of you. he might step out every second now, you can't waste any more time.

his shoulder seem very broad, his posture almost immaculate. handsome – you think he looks very handsome. well put together. his clothes aren't wrinkled, there isn't a single hair or a speck of dust anywhere on them as far as you can see; the only things that betray his true state of being are his eyes.

purple. glued to the window in front of him, he watches... nothing. he seems a little out of it. he's not focused on the trees or the buildings, the people aside him. you think about what kind of music he might be listening to.

the subway doors open and you jolt, head turning around to look at the platform behind the glass. people stand and leave, and a few come in, leaving an open space for you to take on the bench you're currently sitting on. and you do take it.

there he is.

you can see his eyes a little better now. keen and sharp, he reminds you of a wolf. a malnourished one. the corners of his mouth are tilted down and he really does seem tired. but he's still utterly, utterly beautiful. his skin is almost perfect, his hair shiny and his lips a little glossy. but not too glossy though – no, he definitely uses something like shea butter. something that isn't too thick, something that doesn't smell or taste too strongly. it just seems right.

you've never been this captivated by a stranger before. it's weird. the effect this man has on you without ever even sparing you a glance. you think about asking for it. for a glance. for a second of his time. a fraction of it? anything. everything.

how would he greet you? would he be mad? would he think that you're bothering him? would he give you a smile? a scoff? an eyebrow raise? would he let you ask whatever your heart desires? or would he brush you off, never even removing his headphones when you try to speak to him? oh, it hurts. the blatantly fake heartbreak still hurts.

his trainers are clean - they're white with some accents on them. they match his hoodie. you wonder which he bought first. did he buy the other with the intent of wearing the two pieces together? you want to ask him. that's not his favourite color though, right? no, no – he wouldn't have one. this man reads books and watches movies that are mostly only shown at different festivals. you don't mind it.

films. foreign films. he knows names of the directors from the top of his head, he could probably name a few cinematographers, too. fancy. but that's not his main thing, definitely not. there's something missing, something you can't grasp with just your eyes. what is he passionate about? truly passionate. what does he pour his heart into? is that why he's exhausted? is he tired from loving something? is it starting to hurt now? is it overwhelming? does he want a break? does he want to rest? does he want to get away?

the sun finds your eye from behind his body, forcing you to tear your eyes from him. the cart stops again, the doors open. you try to rub out the slight burn, suddenly a bit frantical that you'll really lose him. you look up and—

he's not there.

he isn't there anymore.

people walk past you, plopping down beside you as you're still trying to find him. turning in your seat, you eye the station. maroon, maroon, maroon, maroon. c'mon, how fast does this man fucking walk?!

but he's just not there.

you think it's unbelievably unfair that it's the sun that made you lose him. isn't she supposed to be full of love? bullshit. with a huff, your shoulders slump and your eyes fall shut while sinking into the bench below you. the cart seems to rumble more now, the seat way more uncomfortable than it was a mere minute ago. you really are disappointed; in yourself and in the world. why didn't you get up? why didn't you speak to him? better to get a no than to drown in the million 'what if' questions in your head. stupid. you're stupid.

"hi."

as you listen to the voice recording of the station names, the very same ones you memorized years ago, you crack open your eyes. your own shoes stare back at you; they're dirtier than his were. you don't think too deeply about the comparison. sun dances on the ground before you, the various shapes entertaining your mind with the shadow play. but you don't stay for long; trailing up, you see the familiar paint and your heart skips a beat. white and maroon. black. maroon. silver.

purple.

[thecomfywriter]

First Line(s) Tag :)

Thank you credits for the tag go to...

@drchenquill @the-golden-comet and @an-indecisive-nerd

Y'all are gems :)

OKAY WAIT I'M EXCITED FOR THIS ONE. I lowkey want to do this a bit differently than I have been seeing, where I do the first line for all my wips instead of choosing just one. Some of them are rougher than the others, only because I haven't written those one since the dark ages (poor writing quality days, i'm talking "Blasphemous 4th Draft"™️ era), but WHO CARES WOMP WOMP

Also, I might do a couple of lines instead of just one, but without a doubt, it's the opening to each book.

Without further ado...!

✧༺♥༻∞

Throne of Vengeance-- Volume 1:

"I felt my youth cripple away the moment I set foot within the borders of Soilaila. A fraction of time I had claim to, lost with every step I took forward."

Throne of Vengeance-- Volume 2 (SaI):

"Screams shredded the air."

Court of Sins [Light of the Flame series, Book One]:

"If nature were a singer, how many voices do you suppose she would have? Would it be two— one for life, another for death, singing in a constant harmony to one another? Or would that voice be the same, switching as the years of their song ticked by from majors to minors? Or perhaps, would those two voices instead be for light and darkness, who flipped the world upside down at every switch of the melody? Would she sing in six voices, perhaps— one for every direction the head turns; or possibly millions of unique voices, called mortals instead of songs? I only know of four voices. Four and one. Not five, as you may presume. Four and one. The masks and the face. And all of them were tainted."

GoTN [Light of the Flame series, Book Two]:

N/A nothing for this one yet

EoJ [Light of the Flame series, Book Three]:

"The beating of ceremony drums echo off the twinkling, frescoed walls of Evan’s chambers, rejuvenating the entire palace with the heartbeat of the Elements.

(A/N: THIS IS FROM THE BLASPHEMOUS DRAFT DAYS HAVE MERCYYYY)

MotT and SoC [Light of the Flame, Book Four and Five]:

pack it up, bois. she's not here.

BoD [Light of the Flame series, Book Six]:

"Eyes like arrows / Moonlight in that lustrous flesh / With vigor in your walk / Your stride casts minty breaths. // Sinewy is your frame, / with hale in boisterous smiles / Broad shoulders that hold / a frame of thunderous guiles // Skin of gold / Lips so sweet. / Mellifluous in those white teeth / Oh, is that a mortal or a god? / Look at the way he speaks his songs."

LotF [Light of the Flame series, Book Seven]:

nada. zilch. sorry folks. she never made it that far.

E1 [The Inkarnyus Series, Book One]:

"The city lights were always something she admired in the dead of night. Especially from her view on the third floor balcony. Under faint crystallized stars and the crescent moon that tucked behind silver clouds, golden specks of light from empty households and narrowly lit streets filled Naliya with nostalgia of a memory she had never experienced."

(A/N: also from the blasphemous days. spare grace like it's change, friends)

TSS [CoE, Book One]:

"The salty tasty of lingering ale pleasured his lips, dusting away with the swipe of his greedy tongue. F’dryx banged his goblet down on the peeling wooden tables of the hidden tavern, robust with his drunken spirit. Yern looked at him with a lost flicker in his eye, as if he had only now realized what a disappointment his companion truly was."

(A/N: guess when I wrote this... lol)

ItW [AoNaS Book One]:

"The evening sky was a rosy pink, the colour of rooh-aftza on a hot summer day."

TES:

"The grey clouds of spring's sky rolled over the evening dusk. Blankets of leaves covered the ground below her feet, crunching beneath her every footstep. Sakineh took delicate steps forward, through the narrow streets of the city's neighbourhood."

(A/N: I'm noticing a pattern where the blasphemous draft era™️ me would literally start every book, every scene by describing the sky. she was my muse frfr)

TAA:

"The rustic smell of blood and ash filled the air, even in the frigid stillness of autumn. There was a memory in the rust of the dark iron-- a time they did not have access to. It was pristine. Artistic. Hauntingly gothic, and perfectly preserved."

THatW:

"There was a frigidity to the air that night. Whispers in the rustling wind as it shattered leaves against leaves. The entire forest fell into the eerie silence, descending into an unnatural stillness.  'Shh... It's not going to hurt if you don't struggle,' I said, lying between my teeth as I did. It's a common theme, you'll find in this story. Me. Strangling someone with a silver wire in the dead of night. Lying, as I always did. Well... There goes first impressions."

(A/N: just based on the object of my descriptions in the first line, when do you think i wrote this.... LOL)

✧༺♥༻∞

Alrighty! That's it folks. Tagging the TCW Crew after the mandatory links lol

Welcome to my Writing Corner!

Finally... An Introduction thecomfywriter's WIPs

Join the TCW Tag Crew!

Support me on Ko-Fi!

Join the TCW writing bar discord!

TCW Blog Navigation Guide

PREORDER THRONE OF VENGEANCE

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TCW Crew:

@lunaeuphternal @the-golden-comet @renasdoodles

@drchenquill @zackprincebooks @wyked-ao3

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@authorcoledipalo @sm-writes-chaos @illarian-rambling

@pexchys @an-indecisive-nerd @thelovelymachinery

[wolveria]

The Raven’s Hymn - Ch 8

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, violence, horror, monsters, human experiments, dark with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: The first test of many.

AO3

With how enthusiastically the Site Director had green-lit this project, you’d expected the first “patient” to be a human. Instead, an assistant brought in a surgical tray with a deceased rabbit, its fur as white and sterile as your surroundings.

Disappointment flickered in the SCP’s pale eyes when it was released back into the middle room. Despite not being given its preferred test subject, the SCP rallied and proceeded with the surgery. It instructed you to assist by handing it tools from the black doctor’s bag.

Getting to interact with the object was almost as strange as interacting with 049. Whenever it asked you to retrieve an item, even if the name of it was unfamiliar, every time you reached into the bag you managed to wrap your fingers around something and pull the exact tool needed from the bag. You truly didn’t understand why your superiors hadn’t impressed more importance on studying the bag, which could be categorized under its own SCP designation.

Unless it only worked while in SCP-049’s presence. Codependent SCPs were rare but not unheard of. You would have thought it of interest for further study, but you no longer had any say on the matter.

After a grueling two hours that tried your patience to the limit, the rabbit came back to life, or rather its corpse reanimated after being pumped with tubes of strange liquid stored in the doctor satchel. SCP-049 went on to voice such proclamations as these types of subjects are insufficient for true academic study and Homo sapiens are the only animals able to be infected by the Pestilence, and anything less is a sham.

You stared at a speck on the floor.

“You will want to write this down, assistant,” it said following a stretch of silence. You continued to say nothing, almost resentful at being spoken to like a wayward pupil, but you followed it to the autopsy table and picked up a notepad and cheap ballpoint pen that had been put aside for note-taking purposes. You were almost nostalgic for your college days. Shadowed by an overbearing professor and contemplating the downward spiral of your life, it wasn’t really all that different.

You wrote down everything the SCP had performed during the experiment, though you couldn’t explain the liquid being delivered via copper tubes into the mutilated rabbit, or how it was able to move at all.

SCP-049 stared at the rabbit, its continued silence unusual.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

“The cure is effective, but not without… problematic side effects.”

No kidding.

The plague doctor returned to its own journal, scribbling down something with that old-fashioned pen you had noticed before. It had pulled it from the black bag, and you wondered if that’s simply where it was stored, or if the pen was a part of the mysterious contents.

The SCP moved away, not paying you attention for once as it slowly paced and scribbled at the back of the chamber. It gave you some breathing room, a chance to not stand so rigid, and you took the moment to look down at the pitiful creature hunched on the autopsy table. The rabbit sat huddled in a ball, milky eyes half closed and nose twitching, all the appearance being miserable despite not being alive.

Some of your coworkers were more comfortable using animal test subjects rather than D-Class whenever the rare test was needed, but you didn’t see why it was better to be comfortable with this. Causing suffering for a tidbit of knowledge that would gather dust in a file cabinet somewhere. You should know, you used to do the filing.

Maybe you had been spoiled working in the Cryptopsychology Department, where tests with live subjects were rare and generally not fatal. Or maybe you realized you had more in common with the rabbit.

You reached out a hand and stroked the rabbit’s back, wanting to give it one last gesture of sympathy.

As soon as your fingers made contact, the animal collapsed, its eyes empty and truly dead.

SCP-049 stopped pacing.

You stared at your fingers, searching for a sign that anything was different, but there was no reason it should have happened—

SCP-049 snapped its journal shut, put it down on the counter very slowly, and approached the autopsy table.

“What did you do?”

You backed away, retreating from its low voice as if it were a snake. The change in its whole demeanor was sudden, its broad shoulders rigid and its eyes as cold and grey as the table.

“I just… touched it.”

SCP-049 picked up the rabbit and scrutinized it for a moment before its icy stare fixated on your face.

You took another step backward as the SCP gently placed the animal back down, and your heart leapt in your throat when it slowly rounded the table and stalked in your direction.

“What. Did you. Do.”

That quiet, metallic voice was underlined by something that froze your spine.

“I didn’t do anyth—”

The SCP rushed forward, grabbed you by the base of your throat, and shoved you backwards until you hit the wall.

“Look what you’ve done,” it growled, the curve of its mask almost touching your cheek. “You’ve ruined it! Now I have to start again to correct this heinous error.”

Its fingers tightened around your throat, and you choked for air.

“I cannot perfect my cure with such sabotage.”

You grabbed its wrist and tried to pry it off, but the SCP was inhumanly strong. After a moment, it relaxed its grip enough for you to gasp, and you gulped in precious air as your heart hammered wildly.

Its masked face loomed entirely in your vision, its cold stare as heavy at the hand at your throat.

“You are the student, I am the teacher. Do not interfere with my work again. Have I made myself clear?”

Before you had a chance to catch your breath and come up with some sort of answer, mist drifted from the ceiling, and you caught the medicinal scent of lavender. The sedative should have worked quickly, but the plague doctor continued to hold you around the neck, its ravenous gaze on your face still alert.

Whoever was in charge of the test must have come to the same conclusion you did, that the lavender was no longer as effective as it once was, as three guards rushed into the middle common room. SCP-049 didn’t acknowledge their presence until one prodded its back with a shock baton.

It growled but kept its grip on you, even as it was shocked again and again, until it finally released you with a snarl. It turned on the guards, its voice risen in pure rage.

“You must not interfere!”

The guards turned up the voltage on their weapons; it only took two more hits for the SCP to drop to the ground, grunting in what sounded like pain, the metallic wheezing from its mask strained with effort.

They didn’t stop there. Your would-be rescuers were without mercy as they continued to beat and shock the SCP even when it no longer gave resistance.

You picked yourself up from where you’d slid down the wall, your throat raw and ragged but your words still clear.

“That’s enough!”

None of them paid you any attention, continuing their ruthless beating.

Oh, God, you thought. They’re going to kill it.

“Enough!”

You lunged between two of the guards, hoping your presence would interrupt the frenzy. All it earned you was a pair of hands dragging you from the room, your last glimpse of SCP-049 was of it curled in a protective position on the floor, reminding you more of a rabbit than a monster.

Next Chapter

[psychic-refugee]

Wenvier Bingo Freespace - Good Omens

Heaven and Hell were, at their core, corporate structures that one simply needed to learn how to finesse in order to get by, or in Crowley’s case, fail upwards.

He had made a hellish honest attempt to be a good demon, smote humans that needed smoting, inspire them to be their worse selves. It wasn’t his fault that every time he had made an attempt, humans had not only beaten him to their own damnation but had come up with something truly vile that he would not have thought of in six thousand years.

After the first few hundred years, he had decidedly given up and simply took credit. If anything, that was what being a demon was all about.

What true demon was honest in memos?

Unfortunately, his accidental achievements meant that the Demonic High Council thought he was competent at his job. In any corporate structure, being competent was the worst of sins and was punished with more work.

Case in point, he was now assigned an “intern.”

Wednesday was not a fallen angel, and Crowley was aghast at the thought that demons could procreate.

“No,” Beelzebub shuddered at the thought, “You’ve done such a damned job at tempting the humans into damnation and creating strife on earth, that she is the manifestation of all their woes. She emerged from the Pit fully formed, as is. She just needs to be shown around a bit.”

Crowly simply smiled and nodded, taking credit but knowing full well that humans had created Wednesday all on their own.

It just galled him that not only was he assigned an intern, but everyone was treating her as his de facto daughter.

As with all powerful demons, they had a dark aspect that manifested itself into things that slithered or crawled in the shadows. Wednesday’s was the spider, delicate white spider silk weaved into a beautiful dress. A gorgeous specimen of a black widow was her constant companion and stood sentry on her shoulder.

If he peered into her black obsidian eyes, he could see a speck of ruby at the center in the shape of an hourglass. If he looked past her and off to the side where the infernal aura was its true self, he could see a shadow of a thousand eyes and her true form.

Although practically a newborn, she had no trouble staring him down in his own poisonous serpentine eyes.

Crowley had no choice, so he showed her around and she learned quickly on her own that humanity was its own worst demon and she simply had to exist.

Meanwhile, at a bookstore in Soho, Aziraphale was being assigned his own heavenly intern.

Xavier was a new angel, a Principality. The first one created since the beginning of Creation.

“He’s supposed to protect communities and guide humanity. Most of us haven’t been around a human in millennia and who can blame us?” The Archangel Michael dropped in with Xavier without calling first and giving no real instruction or helpful information. “You are the foremost human expert in all of Heaven…so here you go,” she turned to Xavier, “Learn about humans and then guide them…or whatever.”

Without any further ado, Michael was gone.

Xavier was as most angels, wearing all white with handsome features and hair of starlight. He looked to be about in his late teens or early twenties, and his angelic attire left a lot to be desired in Aziraphale’s estimation, but at least his pure white hoodie would blend in with humans.

The only real hint of his divine heritage were the veins of gold in his green eyes, a unique feature as most had their heavenly marks on their person.

Aziraphale’s was in a place only Crowley had ever seen.

He wasn’t sure what else to do with the angel other than to take him about on his normal day. When they weren’t reading, they enjoyed walks at St. James’s Park, lunch at the Ritz, and plays. He was glad to see that Xavier enjoyed the fruits of humanity, although he was rather quiet.

The new angel didn’t seem to have any real desire or talent in inspiring humans to their best selves. Aziraphale was at a loss of what else to show him.

That was, until Crowley come to the bookshop with Wednesday.

Her snarky countenance reminded him of Crowley, so she held a special place in Aziraphale’s heart...or the approximate location of where a heart would be in his corporeal angelic form.

With how Xavier got tongue tied and wouldn’t stop staring at her, Wednesday had an affinity with angels it seemed.

The way she had no issue in getting in Xavier’s personal space, she returned his admiration.

Aziraphale was further enchanted when Wednesday turned out to be a voracious reader and lover of books. She even penned a few of her own, his book collection could now boast the entire series of Viper de la Muerte, the first and only murder mystery series written by a Demon.

A few months later, Crowley and Aziraphale had to create a 30 Lazarii miracle to hide the fact that Wednesday and Xavier had fallen in love and married. Any demon or angel who came by would see them snuggled up with each other, Xavier’s wings protectively surrounding her as spiders spun delicate doilies and the like around them. Now they were protected so that neither side would be able to see their love.

When asked why there was such a huge miracle, Aziraphale simply blamed it on an over enthusiastic intern.

“Well, I admire that it didn’t take them six thousand years and two near apocalypses to reveal their feelings for each other,” Crowley teased his angel.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, but then gave his demon a kiss to make up for all the millennia they had missed.  

Card under cut

[aut-with-tism]

She wakes up before everyone else.

That comes to no surprise. She thinks she can count how many full nights of sleep she’s had since the incident on one hand and still have fingers to spare. Hell, she’s being generous there; even when she does sleep, it’s restless. As it has been every day for the past forty-six weeks.

A bitter part of her can’t help but wonder if it ever goes away. Does any of it ever truly go away?

Life’s a cycle. Rinse and repeat, and whatnot. Or, at least, hers seems to be that way - a vicious cycle that snatches her up and spits her out without warning, leaving her more broken than she started.

She never learns. Life finds a way.

The last few months have continued to prove that to her, have continued to remind her that she came from nothing and that’s all she’ll ever be. At the end of the day, they could only play god for so long until disaster struck. (Even in the bible, the fall of man is man-made. It makes sense. She’s not a victim of circumstance, just a victim of herself.)

Teeth, blood, screams.

The hardwood is cold beneath her bare feet as she tiptoes out of the guest room and makes her way downstairs. If it reminds her of sneaking around her childhood house, she doesn’t linger on it. It’s not the same. Something that makes her feel…a sickening sense of relief.

Karen was always built for this life. The nine-to-five job, the 2.5 kids and a dog, a big house all wrapped up with a white picket fence and a red ribbon. It suits her sister.

She, on the other hand, always thought she was meant for more. Look how that turned out.

Sighing, she fumbles her way to the kitchen in the dark. Too early to turn the light on, but too late to be this early. The only thing that makes sense is the silence.

She’s missed the silence.

LA was never quiet - one of the few things she loved about it. (It reminded her of the island in that way.) Even as she’d pass out on the rooftop, fingertips blue and breathing slowed, she found a semblance of peace in the chaos below her. All the people living their lives because they didn’t stop at the creation of a hybrid monster and the destruction of everything around it. All the people that weren’t her.

At least there’s people who went through it, here, too. It’s not the same - they’re not the same - but it makes her feel the slightest bit more sane.

She may be a speck of nothing in the vast universe of everything else, but so is everyone.

It doesn’t help. But it doesn’t make things worse, either. So, she carries it with her like she carries everything else. Her baggage. Her. All the things she can’t seem to let go. All the things she can’t leave behind.

It’s easy enough to slip out of the house and onto the porch, shivering as she lowers herself down onto the steps. Soaking in the nothingness of it all.

That’s how her sister finds her, some time later.

There’s a look akin to concern on Karen’s face and, if she focuses hard enough, she can see their mother. What remains of her. That all too familiar sadness glossing over her eyes, painted on dainty and down-turned features. She watches Karen pull her cardigan close to her body before lowering herself down next to her.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to freeze yourself to death out here,” Her sister jokes, nudging her with a careful knee.

She laughs soundlessly in response, breath clouding around her in the sharp air, then shrugs. “Maybe you don’t. Know better, that is. You always say you don’t recognise me anymore.”

Karen says nothing in response.

They sit in silence for what could be minutes or hours, she doesn’t know, before Karen moves to stand and offers her a hand to help her up. She hesitates.

She hates herself for it. Guilt swirls around the pit of her stomach like her breath dances in spiralling puffs in front of her, but kindness has always been foreign to her. She finally takes her sister’s hand and drags herself off the steps.

It’s ironic. She laps up poison from the hands of corporate criminals. She leans into harsh slaps and even harsher words. She doesn’t worry of being stabbed in the back for they could stab her in the front and she wouldn’t even flinch.

But, yet, she draws the line at the softness she doesn’t deserve - the gentleness she’s yet to earn.

“I told the boys not to bother you, this morning. Long flight and all that,” Karen starts, pausing momentarily to look at her. She refuses to meet her eyes, “It’s up to you if you want to see them before school, but the expectation isn’t there. Just…thought you might like the choice.”

She nods, swallowing down the lump in her throat.

She’s put Karen in this position too many times - where she has to lie to the boys so as to not disappoint them. All the birthdays she missed, holidays she couldn’t get off work for. Soccer games she didn’t care for and science fairs she was a no show at. Missed calls. Voicemails. Texts left on read for days, weeks, months. Each and every milestone missed because she was too focused on taking her first steps up the corporate ladder and into the world to be there for theirs.

So much of the boys’ childhoods she’s been absent for, and what little remained got torn to shreds by razor teeth, sharp claws and gliding ballpoints. All because of her. Her.

Avoiding the boys only amplifies the nauseating guilt, but it’s easy to decide it’s for the best. She’ll see them tonight. Hopefully after she freshens up and looks…more alive than she feels.

But Gray’s high-pitched squawk cuts through the air; sharp and trilling. Time stops.

“I wanna see Aunt Claire! How come you got to talk to her and I didn’t?”

It cuts straight through her, the sound of sneakers scuffing floorboards fast approaching. The blood pounds deafeningly in her ears and her breath hitches, shadow moving just outside the door. He’s so close - too close - but not close enough.

She’s reminded of the day at the park. Trailing behind Owen by the old park and hearing one of the Jeeps taking off through the forest; knowing the boys had been right there .

(And then, they weren’t. And then, they were gone.)

Teeth, blood, screams.

“Dude, calm down. She’s not gonna want to see you if you keep acting like that. You’ll see her later,” Zach responds, tone dripping with sarcasm. She can see so much of Karen within him, but she also spots herself. Her chest tightens.

Gray seems satisfied at the answer, shuffling down the hall and into the bathroom. A shadow still remains underneath the door. She waits a moment, Zach finally speaking up in a voice that makes him seem much younger than sixteen going on seventeen, “We will see you later, won’t we?”

“I promise,” She tries not to lie.

It turns out to be the truth, in the end. Karen and the boys shout up a goodbye as they leave for school, and she has an empty house to herself. Well, her and Foxtrot.

After a long awaited shower, she ends up falling back asleep. Foxtrot curled against her side. Fingers deftly brush through soft fur in soft circles - soothing them both.

She wakes to the sound of her sister’s voice. Except it takes her a moment to recognise it as such, as Karen’s voice grows louder, more heated. Gone is her sister’s unsettling gentleness, gone is the soft maternal energy shrouded in warm tones and small reassurances.

This is the Karen she grew up with. Sharp anger and hot, fast fury spat at the person unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end.

The only gene passed down the Dearing descent.

There’s a part of her that immediately feels sorry for whoever’s been careless enough to make her sister this upset, but she knows Karen’s anger is deserved. It always is, after all.

The other part of her almost wants to smile.

Until she hears Owen.

No. No.

“Tell me why I found my baby sister on my doorstep in the middle of the night, half-frozen and looking like…have you seen her, Owen? Does she look alright to you, huh? Does she really look like she’s doing just fine without you?”

The urge to cover her head with a pillow has never been so strong, as though smothering herself would get her out of this. It was inevitable. She knows that. Eventually, something like this was going to happen and she was going to come face to face with the one person she both never wanted to see again but never wanted to be without, either. She thought she’d have more time to get herself together, though.

God, she’s such an idiot. Her heart pounds quick and hard against her chest, as if trying to get out of her and this situation (she wishes she could, too). She wants it to stop - but that would mean leaving the room and she doesn’t think she can hold herself upright right now. She doesn’t want them to know she’s awake, either.

“I didn’t say that, Karen, I said she was better off without me. What is it with you two and twisting people’s words?”

“Really, you want to go there?” Karen snaps. A not-so-silent warning to back off. She knows how this plays out, knows how her sister must be poised like a snake; dangerous and ready to strike. Yet, on the surface she is calm and concealed.

Look like th’ innocent flower, but be the serpent under ‘t.

“No, I just…fucking hell, now I know where she gets it from. Are all the Dearing women this insufferable?”

Her breath hitches. Catches in her throat. Chokes her - slowly, silently. Her lungs fail.

“Don’t make me kick you out of my house.” Her sister warns, seething with rage she can only imagine. Quiet. Too quiet. It’s never good. “It wasn’t my choice to have you here, we both know I’m not doing this for you.”

The boys. They must’ve invited Owen. It makes sense, she muses. He was everything they never had - everything she never was. He’d given them more in twenty-four hours than she’d given them in their entire lives.

It hurt to watch, but she knew it was for the best. It was always for the best.

She shouldn’t have come here. This was a mistake. She can’t be here, she doesn’t belong here, doesn’t deserve…she has to go.

Let her go, let her go, let her go, let her g-

“Claire?” Go away. Go away, let her go. Go, go, go. “It’s Owen. Can…can I come in?”

The panic surges and she stumbles backwards underneath the heavy duvet and tangled blankets. Trapped. The feeling of falling rushes back to her for the first time in three weeks, knocking her to the ground both metaphorically and physically.

The noise has Owen rushing in the room.

“Claire, are you-“ He stops, kneeling in front of her. Brows knitted together. Frowning. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, you’re okay. I need you to breathe, alright? Breathe with me.”

She can’t. She can’t, she can’t, she can’t.

“Yes, you can, don’t give me that shit. Your sister will kill me if you pass out in my arms, again.” It’s a poor attempt of a joke - they both know that. His concern is thinly veiled by a mask she knows all too well. After all, it’s a mask they both share. “I see you’ve met Foxtrot.”

She glances over at the puppy, still curled up on the bed. No longer asleep, but not bothered by whatever is going on. She nods.

“You know, Gray FaceTimed me when they got her, told me all about his plans to train her like I trained the raptors,” She knows this. Karen told her last night, in an attempt to get her to calm down; hot chocolate, warm blanket, and random stories. She doesn’t tell him this, though, “He’s done a good job, so far. She’s a sweet pup.”

Her shoulders shake as she draws her knees up to her chest, curling in on herself. This doesn’t feel real. It feels like a dream - a nightmare - and she’s waiting to wake up and for him to be gone, because he left. He’s not here, right now. He can’t be.

“I…I can go if you want, Claire? If I’m making you uncomfortable, I can go and get Karen and you’ll never have to see me again?”

Head snapping up, she meets his eyes with tears in her own. No. No . He can’t go. She just got him back and it’s not real, but she can’t handle him leaving again, and- “Don’t. Not…not again.”

“Huh?”

He seems genuinely confused, shuffling closer to her as she shakes her head frantically. “You left.”

“You told me to,” He starts, but stops when he sees her. She can only imagine how much of a mess she looks, right now. But she isn’t his mess. Not anymore. He made sure of that.

“You still left. You still left me.”

[ladyravenblack]

Home part 2:

~

Days turn into weeks turn into months, without the extermination time is fickle here. Unmeasurable.

Charlie prattles on about some new comer, how sweet they are, and how it’s oh so funny they also have deer attributes. What a joy I think rolling my eyes before bringing them back to the bubbling fountain that is our princess.

Shortly after Charlie left I caught this thing staring at me. Plain for a demon, my eyes stumbling back to their dark brown ones, taking in their soft brown hair, and those little doe ears atop their head. They were truly deer like, from the tips of their ears to the soft white freckles on their cheeks to the hooves they ever so brazenly had out.

What an odd creature this was.

They kept their eyes on me, their head tilted slightly as they sipped their clear drink. I inhaled deeply, was that moonshine? Where did they get that? Husk doesn’t have any on hand- I wonder if this little thing is making it somehow.

Refocusing on the demon I see their eyes have gone a stark black, the smell of honeysuckle coats the air, and I can feel the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Our eyes stay locked together, my mind blank, barely processing as they stand and blink repeatedly as if trying to erase or refocus their thoughts. Husk keeps shining the glassware, never looking up but speaking to me. What is he saying? Why are my ears ringing?

I stand abruptly, knocking my cane to the floor and startling Husk. The ringing won’t subside as I stagger into the hall, away from everything and everyone. My forehead is slick with sweat as I lean it against the hallway wall, the shadows around me taut with anticipation that I don’t understand.

Using the wall I make it back to my room, my body overheating as I wander to the bayou that takes up a corner of my room. The water overtakes me in one smooth motion as I slide down into the muddy abyss. It cools me, soothes me, opening my eyes under the water I trace the leaves that float by, the sticks that mark the bottom of my own escape, the light filtering through, creating peaceful images in the dust specks that drift in the greenish brown water. If I stayed here could I die? Could the water swallow me whole?

There’s a soft pop as my head breaks the water, drops fall from my antlers and ears, tracing paths down my cheeks. I imagine the image of the radio demon collar bone deep in muddy waters, antlers far too large, and eyes reflecting off the surface below me. Tilting my head back I admire the soft willow trees, their leaves and branches caressing the ground beneath them as the wind whispers its secrets.

Does the Bayou still think of me?

I stand, my full height pushing the water to only my waist. The ground is soft, sucking on my shoes as I walk from the water I had sat in. I dry almost instantly, the heat of Hell and my own body evaporates any bit of wet that may have clung to me. The scent of the woods made me feel safe for just a moment before my nightmare or premonition came back to me.

Suddenly I was too cold, the long, clawed fingers of fear working their way up my spine. My feet carried me from the little spacial vortex in my room and to my built in book shelves next to my fireplace. Forcing my fingers to trace the titles of the books before I pick out one, one I know is empty and only for me to read.

My clawed fingers scratch the pages, sadness dripping from them as I engrave invisible words into the paper. Memories I cannot and will never share with another, my life before I died, before I even became the monster I was as a man.

~

My chair holds me like a cocoon of plush velvet. Music drifts through the air, my radio buzzing with the perfect melody for my mood.

Suddenly it changes, it never changes without my command but this time it has. The song plays over and over, working into my brain until it is all I can hear even as I work to change it. Angrily I smash the radio down, pausing to check I haven’t damaged my precious machine, and step outside my door. The song still plays, it fills the hotel. I cannot escape.

I follow it, changing directions as one way gets quieter than the other or another sounds louder until I find myself near the back of the hotel. A glass room along the outside of the main walls with a golden colored dome.

My eyes seek the sound only to find the demon from earlier singing to an old radio that even I had been unable to fix. It spouted the melody like it had never been broken, as if its handle hadn’t snapped off when I went to twist it on years ago, or the speakers hadn’t blown when I finally got it to turn on one last time. They swayed like a flower in the breeze, their wide hips rocking back and forth with the beat as they brought their hands into their hair. Their grey toned skin dappled with the red light of the pentagram leaking into the room made them look ethereal.

The voice emanating from them was soft, sad almost, with the lightest hint of an accent forgotten from years away. A gentle song began to play, one someone could truly dance to, and I watched as with their eyes closed they began the steps of a simple waltz.

Alone with no hand to hold or lead to follow they flowed across the room. Before my mind could think I was beside them, my hand grasping theirs and the other reaching for their waist.

Those eyes popped open in surprise, the full black of a deers over the soft brown they usually had. Never skipping a step despite the surprise of a companion they danced with me, keeping their eyes on mine as the song began again and we completed yet another round of spins and steps.

As I stepped away, their hands falling to their sides and their breath heavy, I speak to them for the first time. I tell them to tell no one, that this never happened beyond these glass panes.

My shadows pull me down, drag me away from the comfort I felt in that moment, back to reality and my room. They may tell everyone for all I know, though I doubt they would cross me if they’ve any sense of self preservation.

I find myself humming the song we danced to as I finish out my night, my mind struggling to focus upon my work. What had I done?

[inquisitorial-il-posto]

All in a Night‘s Work

Blood wets the streets of Paris, spilling down onto the porch of a quaint Italian cafe. It's a shame it has to be this way, truly. Of all the places in Paris with espresso on their menu, nobody got it quite right as the bartender here; a young Italian man who had moved all the way to Paris from Turin. For the past two years, he had provided the night patrons of this little cafe with true, authentic espresso with coffee imported directly from Italy.

The same man currently desperately trying to drag himself across the street with two bullet holes through each knee, to no avail.

It's a wretched thing to watch. His lower legs have been crashed so badly that the bones have ripped through the flesh and skin, broken bits grinding against each other and tearing the flesh further. His arms are bent in ways that would be painful even for a vampire, and with each pitiful shift forward, his nails crack against the asphalt and jam into the skin of his fingers. 

So dramatic.

"Buddy, buddy, buddy…." 

The young man tenses at the friendly voice, his eyes widen…and all at once, his efforts to flee intensify tenfold. There's no care now for the rending of his flesh, the excruciating twisting of every limb and muscle in his crippled body as he shifts to put his less mangled elbow onto the ground and push. Grab. And Drag with his shredded fingers. 

He makes it nearly a metre, so close to one of the streetlamps he can almost feel the light on his face… Until it's blocked out by a dark looming figure and, with it, the path forward.

"Hey- Hey, it's alright. Look at me."

"There we go… You know, mi amico, you disappoint me. I told you before, if you did not resist, all of this would have been unnecessary..."

The looming creature kneels down before him, and when he doesn't move to look, it grabs his chin and makes him, tilting his face up slowly. "Look at me." The white of its hair is a stark contrast against the night sky. Two eyes stare down at him from its shadowed face, one brown and one blue, glinting, and when it lets go of his face and he keeps obediently looking, its lips twist up into a satisfied smirk. 

 A muscle moves with every word. A lifted eyebrow, a frown, the smirk twisting into a disappointed frown– every feeling expressed so clearly, so easy to notice, that even without watching, he can imagine how its eyes follow the broken bone and torn flesh from his legs, up his back, then down to his arms, his elbow, his bloodied nails, and back to his face, frozen in fear.

From the corner of his eye, he sees the glinting of metal at the creature's side, and it must have noticed because it follows his gaze…and chuckles.

"Oh, no, no, don't worry, mi amico, that's not for you. We need you alive!" it explains and pats the firearm holstered there. As if that's supposed to be reassuring. "Yes, you see, someone messed with our files tonight, they removed some of the entries. And since your sire is no longer here to help us recover certain information, I'm here to ask you t-"

Drrrrng.

His face hits the ground, the shock from the ringing knocking him off-balance just enough for the bare bone of his elbow to slip in the trail of his own blood. 

Drrrrng.

"Seriously? They know I'm at work…."

Drrrrng.

The taste of his own blood rolls onto his tongue, and it's the cruellest bit of hope he could have gotten at this moment. It might have been better, he thinks, if he could still die from blood loss…

Drrrr-

"Yes?"

The ringing finally stops.

"...Yes, I am here. With him. We should be- Oh! You found it after all?"

This is the first time he has looked at the pavement this close. It's funny how, from afar, it looks so uniform, but in truth, it's all these little specks and pebbles in different shades…

"Well, it would've been good to know sooner, but…As is, there's not much to be done."

Like coffee beans when you grind them up, like putting tar in a grinder…

"No, no, thank you for letting me know. I'll be back soon."

The one-sided conversation stops. He hears shuffling for a moment, like holsters and belts and pockets. Then the creature moves, stands up, and he can feel the merciful warmth from the streetlamp again. 

“Well, mi amico, bad news. As it turns out, there was a copy of that file. That's good for me; it means less paperwork. But for you…."

The words pass by like a song in a language he doesn't know. He hears the metallic clink that's probably the firearm being unholstered; with a glance up, he catches what looks like a silencer screwed onto the barrel. But the angle is rough on his neck, so he lays back down and closes his eyes. 

"For what it counts, you had a true gift. Coffee, tea, hot cocoa– in another life, you could have made a decent living from it. But such is life… Goodbye, mi amico."

It's quiet. The silencer did its job. And with what his body has already been through, he barely feels the hit on the back of his head.

His last thought is of the sweet fragrance of dark coffee by a golden sunrise...

[oven-thermometer]

Do you write fanfiction of your OCs? If so, can we have a taste?

summary: a prequel beginning vibe to the story of my oc delilah :)

a/n: you didn’t specify a fandom so I went with darksiders lol. ive had delilah for the longest time, ive written out the concept for her story and even drawn her but never actually posted anything past that one huge oc masterlist thing I have! im so happy I finally get to write something abt her, even if this is death centered. This was always going to be the beginning of any multichapter thing I was gonna do for her anyways haha.

warnings: mentions of death

wc: drabble of 853 words

The sharp light reflected off of Death’s cool, grey skin. The blue glow sat on the dark shelf, accompanied by the others Death had lit earlier. They burned through wind and shine – never once flickering. They were unwavering in their supply of calmness. His hand slid across the aged wood until it fell to his side, the cracked wood felt coarse even on his calloused fingers.

The tired, ragged curtains were kept tightly shut. Not an ounce of unnecessary light escaped into the space from the outside. Only a glimpse of sun would be seen as Death wrapped himself in his plum cloak and swiftly exited the house. The door’s hinges would creak under the weight of simply being touched. Many years had seen too much of the house fall into disarray, with the roof caving in and the windows leaking whenever it rained. The floorboards would creak and pop loudly when the temperature changed. Although, these constant, unchanging issues wrong with the house gave him comfort. They would always be there, so long as he never changed or fixed them. They would stay. He could keep them. He clung to them as an anxious child would to it’s mother’s hand.

Despair’s teal flames licked at his ashen body. He kicked the ground in impatience, making Death’s lip curl upwards behind his mask. Despair’s impatient personality streak would always remind him of her.

The journey was calm. Thick, luscious grass grew uninhibited with delicate white flowers peppered throughout. Leaves swayed gently in the light breeze, the birds dancing through the branches. Their noises combined with the song of the forest and the meadows followed Death as he and Despair rode.

As his ethereal horse came to a halt, Death felt the soft pitter patterings of rain drops landing on his head. He lifted his head slightly to look at the sky, and he saw nothing but the glaring sun staring back at him teasingly. A few stray clouds dotted the blue horizon, and these were squeezed of their moisture as more soft water fell on his face. He held his hand out, he had seen her do it countless times, and watched as the globules of liquid slid across his weathered palm. He had asked her why she always did this, and she had only answered by explaining that if she could not see the rain, she at least wanted to feel it. At the time he thought nothing of it, but now he truly felt what she meant. Even for him, a being with sight, the idea of a world without feeling only seemed sorrowful and lonely. So he continued to feel every chance he could.

Eventually, Death came to what seemed to be the ruins of an old temple. Huge boulders of debris and cracked walls lay helplessly strewn across a stone floor. The site always seemed to be long since used, no matter how many visits he made. She loved this place. The murals were still clear on the walls, albeit broken into an unsolvable puzzle across the area. The drops of rain stained the stone work to a dark grey where they fell, running towards the center of the structure. The floor slanted towards the middle, meaning any water collected there. He ran his hand over the large crack here, inspecting the rich soil for any weeds or unwanted specks. But, none was to be found. Occasionally a few stray pests or bugs would make this place and this soil their home. Death would always gently find them better places to live and thrive, although he knew she would have reprimanded him for it. He couldn’t stand to see anything stay and grow in this crevice in the floor other than the plant he had been caring for.

A thick, dark blue stem sat in the soil; growing to about a meter before buckling under a weight and bending. Said weight held a graceful mauve flower which hung unperturbed from it’s stem as it seemed to glisten slightly. The petals dipped whenever enough water droplets grouped together, causing them to fall and splash onto the ground underneath.

The single flower on this plant always seemed to perplex Death – and yet it would always make sense when he left. This flower and this place all looked and seemed so beautiful on the outside – but closing your eyes and leaving, simply thinking of the feeling you felt makes you feel the exact same. Remembering the emotions he felt when visiting his flower was it’s purpose, he would learn.

He sat alone for some time as Despair wandered. The horse came and went as he pleased – never straying too far or coming too close. Maybe he knew, but animals always accepted loss and mourning easier. Or so he must have imagined.

As Death stood, once again preparing to leave the place, he turned to the flower for one final exchange, as he always did. It was three simple words. Three words; with the last one solidifying her memory and ensuring her place in the universe to not be forgotten.

“Thank you, Delilah.”

[dearlucienne]

Luci,

Only August but I feel as though my heart has grown weary with the weight of so many farewells. I suppose I am not entirely without fault. I have made a body of all the love I had for all the people I allowed into the hollow of my chest. I forgot it is a burial site, a graveyard punctured with dark, gaping holes wet with earth moisture and perhaps, even, my tears. I forgot people never stay in cemeteries. They visit, yes, sit upon the grass and bring flowers — plump, white chrysanthemums bursting with the hope of always remembering. But always, they leave. Again and again, they do not stay. Years, and they forget.

I have clothed myself with these people’s warmth, worn them around me like another layer of skin, so that I shall never be without them. But now that they have left, one by one they peel off me like rind so that I am sprawled naked on the cold kitchen tile, raw and red and vulnerable again, like an apple fallen from the marble counter, unnoticed and rotting. I should have learned.

Everyday my grief grows the way you imagine a money plant would even when left unattended: its leaves are bright green, with specks of yellow, its stems dumpy and sapid. But with all this, this loneliness, these endless questions of what might not have been enough, of lacking, and the seemingly futile attempts at rebuilding, there is you — buried just beside me. Two corpse girls, ghosts, worn monsters.

Between us is a book thick with the stories of our past selves, our past loves, our past hopes. We have written our goodbyes there, writing them still. But if there is any comfort to this, this anguish, this fighting in spite, this stubborn hoping regardless, it is that I do it all with you. I suppose, in that sense, I am never truly alone.

Despite, remember. And always.

[angelatsumu]

bedtime rituals | s. manjiro [sfw]

in which mikey's sleep hygiene was so poor until he met you <3

warnings: none! pure fluff, super cute and little stupid

wc: 747 <3

being a gang leader and overall callous member of society had a way of chipping at what litle sanity your lover could preserve. between the awful fighting and the constant reminders of his past, he felt trapped in an inescapable loop of fighting sleep and barely being able to close his eyes at night. when he met you, though, it was like the gates of Heaven had opened to send an insomniac angel to rescue him.

mikey was a bit particular with many things in life, but his bedtime routine was not one of them. that was only true until he met you. with a few weeks of intensive studying—you followed him around every moment after 6pm—you realized mikey had these pesky habits that led to poor sleep hygiene. for starters, he never ate a meal before 8 or 9 pm. this was mostly due to his busy schedule, but nonetheless it posed issues. he also struggled to leave work at the doormat before entering the home. he always kept an eye on things, phone glued to his fingertips as he consistently checked his messages and social media feeds. the most off-putting habit he had prior to loving you was definitely his inability to shut out all the lights. mikey claimed he wasn’t afraid of the dark, just the enemies who could hide there. you scolded him for his paranoia, certain that it followed him into his dreams.

mikey’s bedtime ritual was an easy fix for someone as tidy and careful as yourself. you helped him first by prepping meals for him and demanding he be home no later than 7pm on the dot. It took him a few days to get used to the curfew, but he eventually got the hang of it and noticeably felt more relaxed after eating dinner so early. after getting your lover to commit to dinner time, you began encouraging him to leave work stressors at the door. he of course, was allowed to share whatever highlights he had, but he was not allowed to keep his phone ringer and notifications on after 9pm. you’d even convinced him to start putting his phone away on the charger as soon as he gets home, allowing him to unplug and spend time with his beautiful lover. mikey even explained the arrangement to his members, explaining that in an emergency they may call your phone if the hour is decent enough. they gave him skeptical looks, but he was very clearly not taking criticism on the matter. getting mikey over his fear of the dark never truly happened, but you were able to compromise on night lights and motion-detected lighting around the bed frame. he felt more comfortable with the little specks of light, but they weren’t bright enough to disrupt his sleeping.

mikey appreciated your efforts more than anything, but he knew you weren’t completely satisfied until you both had a ritual-like regimen that was done without fail. you managed to get mikey accustomed to a strict routine, one he even began to plan his meetings and hang outs around. mikey would arrived home no later than 7pm, and you two would eat dinner and chat until about 8pm. Quickly load the dishwasher and have a shower around 815-830. Once skincare routines have been completed—usually around 915—you and mikey have about 15 minutes of screen time. After screen time, you both do a quick walk-through of the home, being sure to tidy where necessary. Mikey usually puts aside time to ensure his glock by the bedside was loaded with the safety on; he was methodical about this for his and your safety. After the tidying, mikey usually convinces you to indulge in some sweet or savory snack for the evening, and you finally run a cycle in the dishwasher. At 10pm without fail the both of you are in bed, lights out with some sort of white noise playing. You fancy ASMR much better than some of the artifical rain sounds, but mikey absolutely despises your taste in ASMR. “’s too weird, too much talkin,” he usually mutters, and you roll your eyes dramatically, sliding on a pair of headphones to help you enjoy your sleep noises better.

mikey’s friends take note of the glow the little routine has given him, and his cheeks flush as he thinks about just how lucky he is to have you.

rb's + likes appreciated <3

[nix-writes-mcyt]

sorry if you don't do requests like this, but i've been having a kinda shit christmas so far

could i have a grian x reader thing where the reader has been having a bad christmas or something, and grian comforts them? thanks if you do this—

I usually would have them as non-specific holidays, but I can make an exception every now and then. I hope it helps you to feel better.

Christmas Miracle

Oneshot Grian x reader Contains: Fluff ----------------------------------

You stare out of the window, as you have been doing for longer than you care to admit. Watching the snowfall was all you had to do, it was all you had done all day.

Unlike yesterday the flakes of snow fall gently, layering on top of snow banks you spent your whole morning creating just so you could get out of your house. You had never seen a storm quite like the one that had blown through yesterday.

It had well and truly ruined any and all of the plans you had made. You had, initially, planned to go and spend the day with your partner, Grian. But things hadn't gone like that.

The storm yesterday had come on so quickly you hadn't had a chance to sort anything out. There were no warnings, it just came. Hours upon hours of heavy snowfall.

To top things off your power had gone out and had been out since the storm came over. No one had been able to come out to fix it. Your house had been dark and cold the entire day. Not ideal for christmas.

To add insult to injury the roads were all too icy or the snow was too deep to walk the 30 minutes to Grian's place, your horses wouldn't make it that far and even if you could you wouldn't want to subject them to anything any colder than their stables, which is currently the warmest place on the whole property. The only other method of transportation is flight, but you're not a confident flier and you don't know the route well enough to risk it on your own.

So, overall things are just bad.

You pull the thick wool blanket closer, trying to stay as warm as you can. The last thing you need is to freeze alone in the dark where no one can reach you.

You close your eyes, longing for a miracle.

By the time you awaken, having accidentally fallen asleep, the sun is almost set, telling you it's almost 4pm. Despite the darkness setting in you don't move from your chair by the window, you're cold and still tired even after having a nap. With the storm yesterday you didn't get much sleep.

You stare out of the window, up at the moon and the stars. You wonder if Grian can see them too. Such pretty bright specks in the sky, twinkling. Unmoving. Except for one.

Your eyes linger on the one star that is moving. It's brighter than the others, almost orange instead of white. It's slow, sure, but it is moving. It's moving in your direction.

The stars speed increases, it's brightness increases as the light continues to fade from the sky. "I hope it doesn't hit my house." You say aloud, thinking it may be a meteor. It does look like it's heading right for you.

You decide to play things safe, pulling a couple of things off of the table and under it instead. If your house does get hit by the meteor and the ceiling collapses you'll be safest under here.

Minutes feel like hours as you wait for some sign of something, hoping that it passes without hitting your home. The only sound you hear is.. knocking at your door?

The house may not have been hit but your head is as you try and get out from under the table, and you do after you first smack the top of your head on the wood. As you stand you hear the lock click and the front door open.

"Y/n?" The voice is familiar, it fills you with a warmth you haven't had all day. With a hand on your head you walk toward where you know he is. A smile stretches across his face when he sees you, followed by a concerned look.

"Are you okay?" he asks. "Yeah, just hit my head that's all." you explain, without really explaining why. You can see he has a lantern in his hand. That's what you saw out of the window, not a meteor.

"Is it okay?" "Yeah. It wasn't too hard." You rub your head slightly before entering his open arms.

"You're so cold." His voice is hushed now, he holds you tight, which you appreciate a lot. "It is cold here. All my wood got damp outside in the snow."

"Well, you won't be staying here any longer. You're coming to stay at mine until everything is back in order, okay?" He kisses your forehead, grabbing your wings off of the wall. "Put these on."

You stare at them, not confident in your ability to fly at all. "It's okay, I'll be right beside you the whole time. You can even hold my hand if you need to." You nod, determined to do it for him.

And you do, with no issues. Soon enough you've landed with no more than a stumble, Grian catching you before you could fall. "I told you it would be okay, now come on. There's a surprise waiting for you inside."

He leads you through the front door where you're greeted by all of your friends. Inside it's warm and it's bright, the exact opposite to how you've spent the last day and a half. It's an emotional moment.

Once everyone has greeted you Grian pulls you in for another hug. "I wasn't going to let you spend christmas day like this alone. I'm not going to let you spend any special day alone. Not now, not ever." "Thank you, Grian."  "You don't have to thank me, I'm serious. Now, how about we go and get something to eat and then we can all enjoy the rest of our christmas?" "I'd like that." You smile.

The food is wonderful, everyone sitting around and having a chat and a laugh while you eat. After that games are played, people talk and sing and dance. You didn't think you'd get this, to spend your christmas with friends, the man you love. Sitting in your house you thought that it wasn't going to happen. It felt impossible. But it seems the universe answered your call. It gave you a christmas miracle.

[suicidalslasher]

𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒍𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒍𝒚 ➤ 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒆

Here's one of three Carrie White fics!! :D This is honestly short and sweet, plus simple... compared to the other two. But.... it's here and I'm very much happy with the way it came out. I hope you all enjoy it, as well.

Although, the gif is of Sissy, you can pretend it's either version of Carrie.

(Chloe or Angela's. I, personally, just prefer Sissy's. Although, I love all three.) And despite it being Sissy, too, I took inspiration from the (2002) adaption with Angela whereas Carrie never died in the accident of her house.

Instead, she lives and runs away. And yadda yadda. Enjoy!! xx

Warnings: None. Unless you count fluff and love confessions UwU.

“I know she was your friend but c’mon, (Y/N). She was nothing more than a piece of shit… Grow up. Move on.”

“She was a monster, (Y/N). Do you really think she wasn’t? After all she had done? She destroyed everything and hurt so many people… she killed several hundred people, too… if that isn’t a cruel, heartless bitch, I don’t know who or what is.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re just like her…. are you a demon in disguise, too, (Y/N)?”

They said the same exact thing. The statements were always said by different people but the topic of the subject remained the same - Carrie White.   Carrie White was the devil. So on and so forth…

It was a constant reminder she no longer was here with us - with me.  

 The tragedy that struck on prom  night wasn’t my fault. Nor, was it Carrie’s.

Carrie had so much anger built up within her, she was bound to explode with rage eventually. And that day just so happened to unravel at the dance. All thanks to the students (and some teachers) of Bates High.

They constantly bullied Carrie for no real given reason, they harassed her for things she couldn’t quite control, either.  Not me, though.

I’m not crazy, even if there are people that  say I am and even if there are those that put words in my mouth I never said to begin with, too -

It’s not true.

None of it is true.

Everything you’ve read about Carrie White is false. Everything you’ve, more than likely, heard about her is furthest from the truth, also.

She’s not a monster. She never was one. She was just an ordinary girl, begging to be loved,  to be happy. And I loved her.

I just… I wish more than anything she realized how much I loved her.  I was in love with Carrie White, truly, madly, deeply…. in love with her.

And nobody could ever change how I felt - how I feel - towards her.

The night I was going to confess my feelings, believe it or not, was before the dance. Before everything happened.

The moment I arrived to the dance, well…by then, it was too late.   I hadn’t known it yet but almost everyone  was trapped inside the gymnasium, nails digging through the doors as they tried - and failed - to escape.

Their blood curling whines and agonizing moans were silenced by the music that played out on the speakers which echoed outside of the windows and bounced back and forth from the building to the parking lot.

I didn’t realize something terrible had happened until I smelled an intoxicating scent that caused my eyes to blur over with tears and caused me to grimace as the odor only grew stronger, thicker.

I winced and gazed around the parking lot which still remained full of different colored vehicles.     Confusion struck but after a moment or two later, realization hit like a ton of bricks.

From where I had stood, I saw a huge  cloud of gray smoke lingering around the building, only growing more and more thicker in the sky.

When I first arrived, the sky was crystal clear.  Not a single   speck of white was seen from above.   Now, that beautiful shade of blue was replaced with dark and haunting clouds of gray.

Even the moon was no longer hanging in the air for the smoke had it hidden.

The odor that swarmed the air, I realized, was people’s flesh burning.   One by one, people within the school were dying and suffocating to death.

Call me whatever you wish, as I’ve been called every name in the book, but I mean it when I say that I could care less  about the students and teachers of Bates High. If that made me an insensitive bitch, so be it.

The only reason I even attempted to try to get inside the building was because I remembered Carrie had gone to the dance with Tommy Ross.  And I’d do anything to save her.

Expect… I couldn’t.

Every area of the school was locked. Every entrance and exit doors were shut tightly. No matter how hard I tried to open them,  the damned thing wouldn’t budge.

I even tried to go through the windows but they were shut, too. There was nothing I could do.

Nothing expect fall to the ground and bury my face in my hands as tears began to fall, one by one, a tear dropped and soaked my hands and stained my cheeks.

Everyone said prom was a night to remember… but I doubt anyone wanted to remember their prom like this.

*~*

The following week after the incident, I heard a knock at my door. Slowly making my way out of bed, I walk down my too small and narrow hallway and open the door once I’ve reached the entrance,  glancing at the  person behind the screen door.

Sue Snell stood there, hands in her pocket and a look of sadness painted across her face.

“(Y/N),” She began.  “Can…. can we talk?”

“About what?” I snarled, not caring if I came off as rude or ignorant or any other definition.  I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to sleep and never wake up. I already knew where the conversation was going and what the main subject was going to be about. And I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to talk about it.

“It’s about last week…  It’s…. it’s about Carrie.”

“I already know. She’s dead, okay? She’s dead and she isn’t going to come back, you don’t have to remind me.” I go to shut the door but Sue sticks her foot out and stops me from doing so. I narrow my eyebrows at her and give her a questioning gaze.

“Please…” She but all begged. “Tonight. Meet me at her headstone, tonight, would you? Midnight. I’m being serious. Trust me on this, would you? I know you have no reason to… but please.. if not for me, for Carrie.”

“Fine. I’ll think about it. Now, I have to go.”

“(Y/N), wait-”

Before she could finish her sentence, I’m  closing the door in her face and storming back to my bedroom, falling onto my mattress with an ‘ugh’ leaving my lips.

For the past few days, I didn’t do anything expect cry and scream into my pillow.

The moment I got back under the covers and buried my face under several blankets and two of my pillows,  the tears came rushing back down.

I was surprised I still had tears left in me from all the crying I had done, truth be told.

I tried, really, I did… to be strong but it was so hard. Especially when Carrie wasn’t here to make things better.

It was so difficult to live when  the one person you kept yourself alive for is no longer around…. it’s hard to live when your heart is no longer beating.

The day Carrie White died was the day a little part of me died, too.

*~*

It was 11:50PM.

The house was eerily silent. The only noise, from where I was at in my bedroom, was the whistle of the wind and the gentle knocking of tree limbs outside on my window.

I glance at the clock by my bedside table. It now read 11:52.

I sigh and sit up, my feet touching the cold hardwood floor. I rub my hands over my face tiredly as I try to come to a decision whether or not I wanted to meet Sue at Carrie’s gravestone.

I came to the decision… yes, I should go.  After all, I wanted to make sure nobody wrote any more harsh and ruthless slurs on Carrie’s grave.

Even in death, they wouldn’t let her rest and wouldn’t stop picking on her.   Carrie should be able to rest and yet there’s hundreds of people who forbid her from doing so. It was a shame.

People say Carrie White is a monster or the daughter of the Devil himself but in reality, the only monsters are the ones  that won’t leave that poor girl alone.

"If you look in the face of evil - evil's going to look right back at you."

*~*

The time I got to the cemetery  it had just turned midnight.  As I exited out the car, it seemed as if the howl of the wind grew louder upon my arrival.

“Hello?” I call out. My voice seems loud against the empty area and I grimace; I didn’t realize how wobbly it sounded until I had spoken.

(I blamed that on all the off and on crying sessions I’ve done recently.)

“Sue? Are you there? Hello?”

Nothing.

I groan and face palm, shaking my head from side to side. I should’ve known not to come. I should have known better and yet-

“(Y/N).”

My eyes dart forward and I feel my knees begin to buckle out underneath me and all the air in my lungs is snatched away from me.

“(Y/N).” She repeats, walking toward me and gives me a wry smile. “Hi.”

“C-Carrie?” My voice shook and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. There she was, alive, breathing and all.

And she was right in front of me.

“You… I thought you were dead.” I was speechless. I could barely form any sentences without stumbling over my words.

“That’s why I’m here,” Carrie explained, stepping closer to me.  She rests the palm of her hand across my cheek, fingers brushing over my skin and I shudder, goose bumps prickling ever so softly across my arms.

“I didn’t know how to tell you….” She continued, sighing as she moves a loose piece of hair back and out from my face, tucking it behind my ear.

“I didn’t want anyone to know but Sue found me  on the side of the road when my house collapsed… she took me under her wing and helped me out.” She informed.  Carrie looked up and gave me a shy smile, her cheeks turning a bright rosy red.

“She insisted I should tell you, too… I was wanting to tell you, regardless but… I had been so scared. I’ve been terrified recently…. and with everything that happened, I only got more scared and… well, I thought you’d be like them and laugh at me or go on and tell the world where I was at and-”

“Carrie, I love you.” I blurt, unable to stop the words from forming out my mouth.

“I’d never, in any way, hurt you. I’ve loved you for the longest time and I thought…. I thought you were dead, Carrie… and it truly felt like I lost a piece of myself, too.”

The blush on Carrie’s cheeks grows darker, deeper as she nods. Tears swell in the corner of her eyes and she laughs softly, taking her hand away from my cheek as she wipes her eyes, sniffling quietly.

“I know. Sue told me, too… and I didn’t believe her. How could anyone love a freak like me? The laughing stock? Everyone’s personal punching bag..” Carrie smiled sadly as she shook her head.

“Mama told me it was a sin, you know? Love only is shared between a man and a woman. Not two men or two women together but… I realized I’d rather burn in Hell and be with the person I love than to go to Heaven being the person I’m not. I love you, (Y/N).

“I prayed every night for a friend and you came into my life at the time I needed you the most. You’re not only my best friend but my blessing, too.” By the time she’s finished talking, I’m crying and pulling her into my chest, hugging her tightly.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” I repeat.  “From the moment I met you in the library and we bonded over our favorite novels together at the start of school, I knew I wanted to be your friend. I could care less what others thought.

And then when we went to the park that Saturday evening and had a picnic, I knew I loved you then…. I knew that no matter what, whether we were friends or more, I always wanted to make you happy, Carrie White.”

“And you do,” she reassured, voice cracking as she buried her head in the crook between my shoulder and neck. “You make me the happiest girl alive. I’ve never known true happiness until you came into the picture, (Y/N).”

I pull a little bit of ways out and take her face, pressing my hands across her cheeks and with little to no hesitation, I press my lips hungrily against hers.

Carrie, almost instantly, kisses back.

“I love you.” I murmur into the kiss, not daring to pull away.

“I love you.” She muttered. Through the kiss, I can feel the corners of her lips curling up into a smile. A grin finds its way across my face, too.

“Let’s go… let’s get out of here.” She said, pulling back as she looks up and into my eyes. “Let’s leave Chamberlain and never look back.”

And so, well, we did.

Carrie White wasn’t your average or your typical ordinary girl. She had powers, as I came to find out. I knew there was something unique, something special about her and now I knew what it was.

Carrie White wasn’t a demon. Or the daughter of the Devil or none of that sort.

Carrie White was simply just a girl, ready to start her own life and accomplish her own goals and seek happiness.

And I, (Y/N) (L/N) would do anything to help her achieve that.

Carrie White deserved better than to live in fear and shame.

Carrie White, just like anybody else, deserved to be happy.

So, whether you believe me or not, I don’t care.

If you still think she is a monster in disguise or whatever; I do not care.

I know the truth. Sue Snell knows the truth, too. Carrie White is anything but a monster.

Carrie White is, and forever will be, my girl.

And that’s just that.

End of story.

[diamonddarlingdia]

The Prince Of Your Dreams (Deku x POC fem!reader)

Synopsis: This first fanfic is about YN (POC and fem!reader) who’s a bit angsty in the beginning who lives the general sad YN life and dreams of fantasies to escape her not so happy life. She starts to dream of this plain looking boy more and more and eventually imagines a life with this imaginary man, only to figure out he’s real and has connected with her too! 

Warnings: she’s a bit angsty in the beginning (I was lil sad when I wrote this lol my bad) but nothing too bad and this includes slight cursing. There’s definitely some fluff at the end and if y’all end up actually really liking this I could turn it into a series. 

Word Count: 1,203 (not bad for my first one huh)

Now let's get on with the fic, shall we?

A heartfelt kiss. 

A gentle hug. 

A passionate whisper in your ear. 

Things you longed for, but assumed you’d never have, never be able to have that glorious opportunity. You figured you could crave for it earnestly, beg and plead with God up above, but alas he had decided to dismiss you. That didn’t stop your heart though. It seemed like the divine heavenly force could not prevent your heart from this drug of wanting for someone, wanting for more. Subconsciously you couldn’t release yourself from the shackles your rose colored delusions entrapped you with. Night after night you dreamed of your prince charming, riding gallantly on his pearly white steed, sweeping you up and stealing you away from the pitiful reality you used to know. 

Alas, your heart simply could not dream such magnificent delusions without the driving force of painstaking reality thrusting you into the world of your fantasies. Delusions become ever so grandiose only when aggressively prompted to do so. To escape that is. The role of the social outcast was a strenuous one, you’d found. It’s been this way since birth, one way or another you didn’t ever seem to belong. Not in your family, with their high expectations and merciless harassment for being even an inch out of line. School was not much better. Your inky, dark skin was seen as more of a curse there, always the butt of jokes, never included, never seen. All you seem to do is repel people, over and over. To the point where you even find your own self sickening. Which taught you the first horrendous lesson you had to painfully absorb, it’s that sometimes the only place you can truly live in, is your very own head. Your own dreams taunting you with what it seemed you could never have.

Again. Again your mind taunted you with these painful fantasies. Again he appeared. The boy. The ethereally beautiful boy, seemingly crafted by the stars themselves. His kind smile, paired with his soft yet saucer-like dark green eyes perfectly, his emerald hair adorned with glittering specks of stardust. He held a hand toward you, a scarred, bruised hand, yet beautiful all the same. But what were you compared to him, even his essence cast a great divide between the two of you. 

Yet he still called to you. 

Logically, you were aware it didn’t add up, the circumstances drove too deep of a divide between you both. He… as much as you hated the awful reality, that left a bitter, stinging taste on your tongue, he was a dream. Nothing more. Alas, you still clung to him. You’ve always had that detrimental habit, wanting what wasn’t yours to have, to possess, to hold, to caress. You knew you could never have him the way you wanted, the way you absolutely needed. Yet your feeble arms and your ever so childlike heart reached out for him. 

But you weren’t all to blame. Oh most certainly not. It was the ethereally emerald boy’s fault as well. For luring you into this world of mystique and pleasure. For him, he waited for what seemed like several eternities, in his dark, destitute surroundings, his heart longing to glance upon you once more. 

Some authors are cheesy, corny, and all around unoriginal when they drone on about “the light of their lives' ' when referring to couples. This description could never fit, light implies you simply brought him happiness, just plainly lit up his life. Men are not plants, they do not need sunlight to grow, some simply crave it. Izuku though, Izuku was more like a plant, hell with matching green characteristics to boot. He didn't want you, you didn’t simply cheer him up on a rainy day, or make him smile when all he could do was frown. No dear reader, he needed your presence. Your adductive essence causing his blood to ablaze in such a fire he was unsure how he could even contain himself around you. He craved your spirit. He craved you. 

This led our blundering love sick fool to make a few errors here and there. Leading you in when he shouldn’t. Holding you when the stars scream and plead at him to let you go, for he was only a dream, and you mere reality. He knew this, the stars repeated this, over and over again, in the same painstaking manner, yet it never clung to his mind not once.

His hand was still patiently waiting, rough and clammy and almost real. His emerald pools cause shivers to take a deep dive down your back. Underneath his freckled cheeks bloomed a bright blush when you accepted, your soft, dark brown had in his. 

Suddenly the surroundings changed, the blinding white light consuming you both as far as the eye was at once sprinkled with tiny specks of stardust. At first a handful, then like sand pouring out from above, filled the background. 

This had happened plenty of times before, when you and Izuku desired to change the atmosphere around you both, something more befitting of the majestic and oh so passionate love you shared. 

Thus, the sand like stardust poured out more and more, overtaking his hair, getting in your eyes, taking up your lungs, concealing your entire body similar to quicksand. You were not frightened thought, knowing you had no use for a mortal body regardless in this dream world. 

After a moment of absolute darkness, you rubbed the dust from your eyes to see an large empty ballroom. The spacious ballroom began with a large marble staircase leading to pristine marble floors, the ceilings were high and golden chandeliers hung brightly. There were large windows that began at the floor and extended all the way toward the ceiling, serving you both a glorious view of the night sky, of the observant stars that had granted you this space. Not much filled the room except in the center stood a small table with a lily encased in glass. A radiant orange lily, ensnaring your attention with its beauty as you fervently danced around it with your dream-like partner. 

Who could blame you for striding down the great ballroom halls with your dashing prince every night? You woke up to get spit on at lunch during the day. Or maybe another teacher assumed you were dumb by taking only one glance at you and your pitiful demeanor, not your transcript full of As. Why wouldn’t you soak up the girlish glee this imaginary lover adorned you with, ever so kindly? Your parents were never as gentle as he was when they screamed at you, cursed at you. The bullies at school seem to want nothing to do with you, but prince charming can’t seem to get enough. 

Years went by, with the same thinking, the same entrapment in your head. You began to block out all the unpleasant bits of your life, repressing the trauma deep in your memory, to make room for the new memories your lover and you would create together. Social isolation left you in destitute solitude, until you went to UA, until you actually became the princess of your dreams, until you actually met your prince.

And now farewell! Until we meet again - Tuxedo Mask

Okay this is the end for rn and if y'all really like it I'm really planning on this being a series!

[acourtofsnakes]

Tracinya - Rogue, Chapter 23 | The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader

Summary: Nothing will stop you from rescuing Din. Anyone who stands in your way is merely an obstacle to be removed. But will you be merciful... or listen to that dark call? 

Warnings: Injury detail, blood, guns(of the space variety), knives, fighting, swearing, death, watch me make things up about the Force again. 

Word Count: 13k+ (I got carried away?)

AN: Well. This ended up a lot longer than I expected it to be. I got rather carried away it seems  ((oh well)) Also, I have checked this ((twice)) but its over 13k words and there is going to be something I missed. 

Introduction

1: Solus | 2: Arir | 3: Tor | 4: Gaa'tayl ^ | 5: Kyr’am | 6: Cabur ^ | 7: Ret'urcye Mhi | 8: Haran | 9. E’tad | 10: Tome * | 11: Aliit Ori'shya Tal'din * | 12: Mar’eyce**^ | 13: Kov’nyn | 14: Ne’tra ^ | 15: Or’dinii | 16: Dar | 17: Haalur | 18: Mesh’la** | 19: Talyc ^^ | 20: Jorhaa'ir ^^ | 21: Hibirar | 22: Jetii’kad | 23: Tracinya | 

Rogue| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f) Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss​ @kenoobiwan @sarahjkl82-blog @boomtownboy @goldielocks2004 @seninjakitey @what-iwish-you-knew @queenofthefaceless @rosiefridayrogersunday @greeneyedblondie44 @itsnottilly @welcometothepedroverse @xgoldenjenny @mamacitapascal @heyitsjaybird @amyk-37 @greatcircle79

Permanent Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @mypedrom @undiscovered-misunderstood @kaylee-krystal

Mando’a Translation: Tracinya - Flame

There was no part of his body that wasn’t screaming in pain. 

His right leg was broken, possibly in two places, and his left ankle was fractured. 

He had taken the fall on his right side, meaning the impact had dislocated his shoulder and shattered his collarbone, resulted in searing agony whenever he moved his head. 

Not only that, but every breath felt like glass and fire, a pain he was familiar enough with to know he also had at least three broken ribs. 

Of course, there were bruises – his entire body was probably littered with purple and black smudges – and cuts. 

Din didn’t remember hitting the floor. Only remembered saying goodbye and then… nothing. He supposed he should be grateful, because from the state his body was in, the feeling of impact would have been horrendous, his body crushed under the very armour that was made to keep him safe. 

He’d been convinced that was it, the lights were turned off and the Maker would come to greet him. 

And yet, after an indeterminable amount of darkness… there was suddenly light. 

Harsh, blinding light and hands moving over his body, checking for injury and – 

They were going to remove his armour. 

The thought and realisation sent shockwaves of terror through him, and despite the agony that had threatened to suck him under, survival instinct kicked in and he lashed out. Taking down anyone who came near him, the medics, the guards, Troopers – anyone who threatened to touch his armour. He was like a caged animal, defending his last dying breath even as his head spun and his knees gave way. 

He fought for consciousness, long enough to see a pair of immaculate boots walk in, the edge of a long, ebony cloak embroidered with gold.

Through the roaring in his head, he heard a silken voice ordering everyone to stand down, that if anyone removed the amour, they would be removed of their head. 

And then he had been sucked back into a fitful abyss 

Din wasn’t sure how long ago that had been.

The room – cell – they had put him in contained no windows, no clocks, nothing to give him indication to what time it was. Only a few artificial lights placed on each wall – which he was grateful for, because the dim lighting was a minimal balm to his pulsating head. 

Only a thin cot for him to sleep on, pushed into the corner of the room and a tiny area in the corner where he could relieve himself. The ceiling rose far above him, giving the impression of being at the bottom of a very small, very dark pit. 

There was no regular pattern to when they pushed a tray of food and water through a tiny hatch in the door either, so he couldn’t even use that. 

Not that he could have concentrated anyway, with the agony waging war on his body. 

He’d had countless injuries before and danced the line of death so many times he was surprised he kept getting away with it. 

And yet this… this was bad. 

His vision kept fading in and out, blurriness making his sight hazy before it cleared again, but not without leaving fuzzy auras that floated in his peripheral. 

Concussion too then… a bad one. 

He just prayed there was no permanent damage. 

He could still talk, though his voice was hoarse and ragged when he whispered to himself the names of his loved ones – he could still remember them, thankfully.  

The ability to move remained intact – though heavily compromised. He could only manage tiny movements, embarrassingly slow as he tried not to move his neck or shoulder… or head… or back. 

An escape probably wasn’t going to be possible for a while. 

Din sighed, laying in an awkward position on his cot, one that gave the least pain. 

Again, his thoughts returned to his haven. 

You. 

You were going to kill him when he got out. 

Either for being a hypocrite, or for the worry he was causing you. 

The worry, no… the heart-wrenching terror he had heard in your voice mere moments before he fell. That cruel fear of the consequences as you laid into him, tried to keep that anger contained but he knew you too well. Knew that this would be tearing you to pieces.

He had felt the exact same way when you were taken – when she died. 

You were a rather dysfunctional pair, weren’t you. 

That thought had him chuckling – and then groaning as the small movement sent shockwaves from his broken ribs. 

Maker, he was battered. 

He didn’t even know how it had all gone so wrong. 

One minute he was flitting through the sky, dodging blaster fire and the next there was a loud pop and smoke began billowing from his back, from the jet pack. 

A very carefully aimed shot, with precision and intent – not to blow him up by shooting at the fuel lines… but perfectly lined up to knock out the thrusters and sent him tumbling to Earth. 

There was only one person he knew that could make a shot like that. 

Someone he should have foreseen, if he was honest with himself. 

Looking back, the townspeople letting slip the information about the base… that had clearly been a trap. 

A false trail to lead them right to the doorstep of the very people trying to chase them down. 

Din hadn’t just led himself to his death… but his friends too. He had no idea where they were, if they’d escaped – if they were even alive. 

He was disgusted with himself, the way he had so easily and thoughtlessly allowed his friends to be brought to such danger. He should have just gone in alone but… he hadn’t been thinking straight. 

When he’d heard that there was a whole base dedicated to finding his sweetheart… a whole legion of Stormtroopers trained, and no doubt given weapons specifically made to defend and attack Force users, he’d lost it. 

How could he walk away knowing all of that? Knowing they were going to come after you?

He couldn’t. He didn’t.

And now look where he was. 

Movement outside his door suddenly broke him from his reverie, a shadow moving past the gap in the food hatch. 

Something beeped outside the cell, multiple locks sliding and scraping through the door and then it was pushed open. 

Din blinked against the sudden harsh light flooding his cell, his helmet damaged so his visor didn’t adjust to the brightness the way it should have done. 

As his eyes cleared, he saw a figure lean and tall, wearing a long cloak – with golden embroidery. 

Oh, joy.

Anger sizzled through his reluctant body as Haran prowled into his cell, filling the small room with that unearthly presence. The shadows of the room seemed to cling to him, perhaps recognising that their master had arrived. 

Din grunted, ignoring the screaming agony that flooded his senses as he dragged his body to sit up, leaning heavily against where the two walls joined near his bed. If this was his end, he didn’t want to be laying down. 

If it was a friendly little chat… well, he could at least give himself a better position to punch the bastard in that overly pretty face. 

Haran stopped in the centre of the room, lifting gloved hands to his hood and he pushed it back.

He looked the same as always. 

Sharp cheekbones accentuated his face, which was neither old nor young – timeless, for no one knew how long this man had truly been alive.

Amber eyes that dominated his appearance, simmering like molten gold and only highlighting the fact that he wasn’t quite human. 

 The twin scars across his mouth and eye did nothing to mar the beauty of him – and Din supposed that was all part of the act. A beautiful face, a silken voice and a laugh that could bring entire villages to their knees to worship this fallen dark prince.

Before he slaughtered them all. 

Din hated him. 

Those golden eyes simmered with amusement as he beheld Din, as if knowing the thoughts going through the Mandalorian’s head… which he probably did. 

He cocked his head, a smile lifting his full lips, “Well, fancy seeing you so soon, Lori.” 

Din growled, his hands tightening into fists and he wished his blazing glaze would melt through his beskar helmet and sear straight into those lion’s eyes. 

That damn lovers laugh rippled through the tiny room, setting Din’s teeth on edge, “Oh, Mando, no need to be so defensive. You had to know what would happen when you decided to infiltrate a base dedicated to hunting your little Jedi.” 

“You won’t find her.” Din spat the words, wishing his body wasn’t so battered, wishing his had his strength so he could tear this creature apart. 

Haran’s smile widened, revealing a set of pearly white teeth, his scar tugging ever so slightly at the corner of his mouth – a predators grin, “That’s not entirely true, considering I found her so easily last time. But I won’t need to find her.” He examined his cloak, brushing a speck of invisible dust from it. 

Dread coiled in Din’s gut, “She doesn’t know where I am. She won’t be able to find me, so you can’t lure her here like a piece of bait. She’s smarter than that.” With every word, he had the sinking feeling that he was saying exactly what the King of Shadows and Death expected him to. 

“You see, I would believe you, if not for one tiny little detail.” Now Haran inspected his gloves, tugging the buckles that tightened them around his wrists, a picture of cool, arrogant confidence. 

It was an effort for Din to keep his voice steady, “And what is that?” 

Please no, please…

Haran looked up at him again, a dark curl falling over his forehead, “I hacked into your comms system, right as you hit the deck. You really should get some better tech, Mando.” He clasped his hands behind his back, “I sent a distress signal to your pretty Jedi, telling her your exact coordinates and even how to get in.” 

Din simply made a noise of horror, knowing that nothing in the world would stop you from finding him. You were stubborn, headstrong and determined… all combined with a fierce desire to save the ones you loved. 

He just prayed Ahsoka would make you see sense. You would be smart about this… right?

Haran shrugged lightly, “I don’t think even Tano will be able to hold her back.” 

Sick bastard, reading his thoughts. 

“I guess we’ll see who’s right soon enough, won’t we?” With that, he turned, walking back to the door, where he knocked twice. 

The beep and locks sounded again, and Haran looked over his shoulder at Din, who was still struck dumb with dread, “Why, I bet she’s already on her way right now.” He laughed low, and then he was gone with a sweep of his cloak.

~~~

~~

You were beside yourself with panic and terror in the first few hours after the call cut off. 

Your scream had woken Ahsoka and the kids, who made it to your tree in time to see you half fall from the branches, stumbling around looking for something, anything to help. 

You could barely hear Ahsoka calling your name, until she grabbed you, forcing you to look at her and calm down. You’d told her what happened, before yanking out her grasp and running to the camp. 

Nothing was computing in your brain, nothing except a primal instinct to go and save Din right now. 

Again, you hadn’t heard her calling your name, mumbling over and over that you needed to go, you needed to get out of here, Din needed you. 

Except there was just one problem…

“Slow down. How are we going to get off of the planet? We don’t have a ship…” Ahsoka spoke calmly, but firmly. She was watching you tear through the camp, emotions a wreck and noting you were moments away from a panic attack. 

You had turned to her, clutching your belongings in your arms, your breathing coming in sharp pants, “Then - then we’ll just… Um...” Casting your eyes about helplessly, you had felt your throat close up, your heart race and your palms start sweating. 

A sob had been about to break from your lips but then – you both heard it. 

The tell-tale sound of a twig breaking, of hushed voices. 

The pair of you whipped your heads in unison, toward the sound and your panic attack vanished, being replaced with the cool ice of battle. The things in your arms had been placed on the floor and then Ahsoka’s voice had been in your head, “You go left, I’ll go right. We’ll meet in the middle.” 

You nodded, reaching for your blade but then Ahsoka had held out a hand to stop you, instead… holding out one of her sabers. 

Oh.

Yes, you’d trained with it but… now she was letting you use it for real, in actual combat? 

Lifting your eyes to hers, she had seen what you were thinking and simply smiled encouragingly. 

That said enough, so you curled your fingers around it and then the pair of you had separated, footsteps lighter than air as you both forged a protective Force field around the kids. 

Moving through the trees, marking the intruders... it had all soothed you, soothed the ache and terror in your chest for the time being. 

Your power let you know they were close, and you hovered in the darkness for a moment, watching the two cloaked figures and sensing Ahsoka opposite you. Something flowed through the air, like a confirmation and you activated the lightsaber, springing from your hiding space with a burst of glowing late. 

“Wait!!! Wait, it’s us!!!” The two cloaked figures turned around, dropping their hoods so their faces would be revealed in the glow from both your sabers. 

Cara, and another man you didn’t recognise – bald, with a numerous harness and straps that no doubt held weapons under his cloak. 

You made a nose, lowering the saber, “Cara?! I thought… I thought you were with Lori – what are you doing here?” Despite the situation, the anonymous nickname for him came out instantly – protecting his identify even here. 

Cara looked from you to Tano, who was still standing in a somewhat defensive position with her saber held out. “We were… We’d split up to take down more of the Troopers. Mando took to the sky to draw fire so we could sweep through them. When we saw him get taken down, we had a choice. Either get captured ourselves, or go and get help.” 

You blinked, a frown forming on your face, “Hang on, let me get this right.” Something stirred in your chest, something smouldering, “You saw Din get taken down, saw him fall from the sky, into the clutches of Stormtroopers who are no doubt reporting to Moff Gideon… and you ran away?” The last two words come out in an incredulous tone, your face showing confusion as you looked between Cara and the other man. 

He raised his hands, shaking his head, “Hey, I wouldn’t go as far as to call it running away. We didn’t know he’d contacted you; we didn’t know how anyone would find us. If we got captured too, there was no way we could get out. Only Boba and Fennec knew where we were, they wouldn’t have been enough.”

Ahsoka raised her eyebrows, stepping closer – never lowering her lightsaber, “So, he’s there alone? Or wherever else they’ve taken him?” 

The man blinked as he looked at her, “Do you mind lowering that thing, lady? I don’t see how we’re the enemies here.”

You snarled at him, mimicking Ahsoka in the closer advance, “I’m not calling you enemies, I’m stunned that you just abandoned him there!!”

Cara held out a hand, trying to diffuse the situation, “Mayfeld, shut up.” She looked at you, “Look, Mando isn’t incapable of taking care of himself. He’s been in situations like this before, he’ll be fine.” 

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, your head spinning, “He’ll be fine?! He could be anywhere, Cara! Who knows where they’ve dragged him, what they’re doing to him! I’m not doubting for a second that he’s been captured before – but not by an army of Troopers, alone, after falling hundreds of feet from the fucking sky! How about I push you out of the open air in a metal tomb and you tell me if you’re up to fighting your way out of an Imperial army.” 

Mayfeld squared up to you, tensions running high, “You know, you might want to be a little more understanding. I’m sure if the situation was reversed, Mando would have - ”

Suddenly, you had pulled free your knife and it was held to his throat, “If you dare say he would have done the same, I’ll cut your throat.” You didn’t care that these were Din’s friends. Didn’t care that they were obviously here to help. 

You were furious, feeling helpless and well… you had never been the greatest at controlling your temper.  

Ahsoka disabled her lightsaber, running forward and gently pushing you all apart. You felt a phantom brush over your skin and realised she had weaved threads of the Force between everyone, “Hey, hey, let’s all just take a moment to breathe, okay? We’re all worried and wound up… Yelling at each other isn’t going to solve anything.” 

Mayfeld muttered something you didn’t hear, though you did hear the thump as Cara elbowed him in the ribs. “Enough.” 

You powered down the saber and dropped your head into your hands. 

The world had flipped on its head, completely and utterly shifted and turned into something unrecognisable. Maybe this wasn’t really happening, maybe you were having some kind of fever dream. 

You sighed long and deep, rubbing at your eyes before looking at Mayfeld and Cara, “I’m sorry, for what I said. You did the right thing… We wouldn’t know anything if you hadn’t come back.” You shifted your gaze solely to Mayfeld now, “And I’m sorry for holding a knife to your throat.” 

To your surprise, he just chuckled, shaking his head, “Don’t worry. I’ve had worse from your Mandalorian, this was nothing.” He held out a hand, “Migs Mayfeld.” 

You found yourself smiling back, sliding your hand into his and shaking it as you told him your name. 

Cara looked around, “As much as I’m glad we’re not threatening to kill each other anymore, does anyone want to tell me how we’re going to find Mando?”

As if by coincidence, the comms device on your wrist started to emit a high-pitched beep. 

All four of you jumped, then looked at the device which had begun to flash red. 

You held it up between you all, and the screen lit up, displaying a string of co-ordinates with that same persistent beep. 

It dawned on you instantly, “It’s a distress signal. Lori sent us the co-ordinates of where he is.” 

Cara was eyeing it thoughtfully, “Do we want to ask why that suddenly came up, just as I asked where he was? And what if he isn’t there by the time we get there?” 

You were already moving back toward the camp to gather your things, “I don’t care. I don’t care if it’s a trap, or if he’s a whole parsec over. It’s the best thing we have, so we’re using it. Get your things.”

~

That had been a couple of nights ago. You were now travelling on Boba Fett’s ship, a tight squeeze but you didn’t care. Nothing else mattered apart from finding Din. 

Boba Fett was an interesting man. He was a clone of the infamous Jango Fett, the Mandalorian of whom you’d grown up hearing about. His armour was older, less sleek than Din’s but still as ruggedly beautiful and had belonged to Jango himself. He was shadowed by another woman, Fennec Shand – an assassin of whom you’d also heard of on your ‘travels’. 

He was a straightforward, direct man, greeting you and praising you on the stories he had heard – then asking how everything was going to go ahead. Straight to business. 

Two hours later, a plan had already been created.

The distress signal coordinates you had given Boba would take you to the general area you needed to be. Then, once you located the Cruiser, Boba would get you as close as he could, slipping into a disused landing bay. 

He would remain with the ship and kids, waiting to get out – and to lead a distraction if it came to it. 

The rest of you would infiltrate the Cruiser, splitting up to cover more ground and find Din – Cara and Fennec in one pair, you, Mayfeld and Ahsoka in the other. 

You sat a little way away from the others – as far as you could in the ship, letting the sound of their planning wash over you. They were determined the best way to get in and out without being seen, whether it was best to go in all guns blazing – literally – or try and be as discreet as possible with minimal causalities. 

You were glad you had excused yourself… because that dark assassin within you was stirring, sensing the oncoming fight – readying a thirst for blood. 

Sure, some of the Troopers may have had no choice… but they certainly hadn’t done anything to change their fate. They still chosen to continue following Gideon and Haran – for you knew now it was him that shot down Din, but you had kept that nugget of information to yourself, only telling Ahsoka. 

The others didn’t need the added stress of knowing a terrifying legend had truly come to life. 

If they wanted to try and preserve life – fine. You certainly didn’t have to agree with them. You didn’t answer rot anyone but yourself. 

And you supposed that mindset should worry you, making you concerned that you were slipping back to that cold killer but… you didn’t care. If you had to become her to save Din and get everyone out safely… so be it. You would deal with the consequences later. 

Ahsoka crossed your field of vision, and then came to sit down opposite you, her back against the wall and her legs stretched out next to yours. She said nothing, merely watching you with an unreadable expression for a few moments. 

You sighed, “If you’ve come to tell me not to go where my thoughts are leading me-“

She shook her head, cutting you off gently, “I’m not going to tell you what you should and shouldn’t do. I’m just going to ask you… Are you prepared for the consequences of what you do, either way? If you choose to go down the path of tearing down anyone in your way… How will you feel afterward?” 

How would you feel afterward?

“I don’t know how I would feel… I know what it’s like to be pushed into a life but… There’s always a choice at some point. However small…” You looked up at her, truly valuing her opinions and advice – she was already a trusted friend, one you could speak your mind to. 

Of course, you had Din. But to have something sperate from him… it felt good. Healthy. You both had your separate friendships away from each other… for moments like this perhaps. 

“I can’t think of anything but saving him. And it’s easy to sit here and ask myself what I’ll do, before we’re even there… but when I’m in there, when I’m walking through that Cruiser to find him...” You shrugged slightly, “I don’t know what I’ll do. And I might not have the time to make that decision when I’m there.”

Ahsoka nodded slowly, listening to what you have to say, “Then whatever happens… We’ll deal with it afterward. Whatever you choose to do... I believe you are strong enough to take it. And if not… then we’ll deal with that too.” 

Gratitude warmed the cold feeling in your chest, spreading through you and you looked at her with new appreciation, “Thank you…” Those two words were heartfelt, all the emotion and thankfulness pumped into there. “For this, helping me… and for everything you’ve done.”

She inclined her head slightly, bumping her foot against your thigh, “You needn’t thank me… It’s been an honour, to help you and train you. After everything that’s happened in my life, the mistrust I had for those I once believed in… I never thought I could get over that hole. But you’ve shown me that it’s not all the way I believed. Things are changing… I’m learning that now. So… thank you.” 

You were about to answer, but Boba’s deep, gravelly voice came from the cockpit, “Time to gear up guys. We’re about to hit the same co-ordinates from the distress signal.” 

~~~~

~~

“Sir?” 

Moff Gideon walked over to the young man who had just called for him, seating in front of a holo-screen like the others dotted about the room, “Yes? What is it?” 

The man brought up a radar screen, a pulsing red dot just coming into the edge of it, “They’re getting closer. They followed the Hunter’s trap.” 

Gideon smiled slowly, watching that little red dot slowly creep closer to the centre of the radar, toward his Cruiser, “Excellent. Tell the troops to be ready. Just because we want them here, doesn’t mean we’ll make this easy for them.”

~~~

~~

Boba Fett’s ship glided through the atmosphere, all of you peering out of the windows for any sign, any hint as to where Din might be. 

You’d been in the general location for about twenty-five minutes, travelling right to the edge of each grid square on Fett’s radar. 

“I think… we might have missed him.” Cara spoke the words that you had all been reluctant to acknowledge, her voice quiet. 

You shook your head fiercely, moving to the other side of the ship, “No. You’re wrong. He’s here. I know he is. I just… know.”  

Grogu cooed from behind you, his ears floppy like they had been since you lost contact with Din.

You turned to look at him, heart breaking at the utter sadness in his glossy eyes, “Oh, Gu… I know.” You scooped him up, cradling the little body to your chest and you pressed a kiss between his ears, “We’ll find him… I promise you; we’ll find him.” You pressed your face to his little head, whispering, “Even if we have to do it on our own.” 

His little arms reached up to your shoulders, and you took a few moments just to hug him, giving him comfort but also receiving it in return. 

You felt his hands tugging at your collar and wondered if he was trying to reach for your hair… but then he grasped something and pulled – your necklace. 

The mythosaur necklace that Din had given you. 

You looked down at him, watching as he cradled the symbol in his tiny little hands, gurgling at it but for once, you weren’t sure what he was saying. It itched at you, like you could almost understand him. 

It turns out, Ahsoka did. She gasped a little, looking at Grogu suddenly and blinking in surprise, “Oh, you’re right. I can’t believe I didn’t even think of that…” She looked at you with wide eyes, “You can find him.”

You blinked at her, raising an eyebrow, “What do you mean?” You felt Grogu’s eyes on you too, and he tugged gently at the mythosaur charm, “The necklace?”

Ahsoka nodded, “Kind of… You have such a strong connection with him, such intense care for each other that if you use your power… you might be able to sense him, where he is.” She walked closer, “It’s hard to explain… it’s an old Jedi trick. They used to use it to track others or find people in hiding. It’s difficult to do, and not all Jedi could do it but… You know him. Better than any of us.” She took Grogu from you gently, “Close your eyes and focus your mind the way we practiced.”

You nodded, not questioning it. There was no time. 

You shut your eyes, following the breathing exercises she had taught you and dropping everything away from your mind. The ship, the murmuring of the others – the panic. 

All of it fell away until you felt the power flowing through your blood, felt it brush up against every living thing in your vicinity. 

Ahsoka’s voice slipped through your mind, “Now, think of him. The memories, the way he makes you feel, the happiness you feel with him. Think about what makes him your Mandalorian.”

Your power flowed through you, out of you, wrapping around the ship and you were already deep in your mind by the time it started shifting the direction you were facing. 

What makes him your Mandalorian…

You let that question move through you, thinking of his touch, his voice… the way he softened the harsh edges of your mind and eased your chest.

The way you had truly come alive after meeting him, how you saw the galaxy as you had before – something beautiful and wild and begging to be explored. 

You breathed in and out slowly, musing on the way you felt you had also brought light to Din’s life. Not just from the way he told you... but the way he seemed to have mellowed even more since first knowing you. 

He laughed more, let himself go a little… His moments of uptight, rigid restraint had melted into something far softer and… goofier. 

Ahsoka’s gentle praise whispered through the thoughts and memories, encouraging you. For however long, you didn’t know. 

And then you felt it. 

Your power brushed over something… someone. 

Din. 

His essence, his soul, burning like a bright star in your longest night. A sense of comfort, fierce loyalty and determination, all encased in a glittering shell of honour. 

Your eyes snapped up, the ship slowing to a stop and then – there it was. 

Moff Gideon’s cruiser. 

And speeding toward you… about thirty Stormtroopers, ready to attack. 

Mayfeld grinned from behind you as Duru leapt from the control panel, “Time to make an entrance.” 

~~~

~~

When Din got out of here, he was going to tear Haran into little pieces. 

Well.

He would help you tear him into little pieces. 

You had probably more rights than anyone to do so, but he had some things that the cocky shit needed to pay for. 

Hey, maybe you could tag team. 

Din kept thinking of creative ways to take Haran apart, to see if he was as strong inside as the power he oozed on the outside. It would be a fascinating project. 

Maybe when you cut him open, he would be a hollow shell, or maybe there would be some kind of malevolent demon inside him. 

He supposed these thoughts were rather twisted and dark, and that Haran had undoubtedly been through some awful things in his life… but so had you, and you were worlds apart from each other. 

Besides, it was all he could do. Think of Haran’s death and try to avoid thinking of the alternative thing that was screaming at him like a siren. 

That you may very well be on your way to rescuing him. 

Din could tell himself for hours that you wouldn’t heed it, that you’d know it was a trap but… it just wasn’t you. 

You were one of the smartest people he knew, but if anyone you loved was in danger, caution tended to get thrown out the window. 

Sometimes, you were both more alike than you realised. 

Din sighed, curling his fingers into fists and then releasing them again. A few hours ago – or maybe days? – he’d lost feeling in his arm. He couldn’t pop the dislocated shoulder back into place without removing his armour, so it was stuck there, swollen and pressing against the beskar. It had started with pins and needles, and then a cold feeling like ice in his veins. 

It made him feel unsteady, lopsided – though that may have been the broken right leg and twisted left ankle. 

Not only that, but every movement of his head made his stomach roil dangerously, and his breathing seemed to be coming laboured… more like sharp pants rather than deep breaths. 

You were never going to let him live this down. 

He huffed again, but the faintest smile rose to his lips as he imagined you both somewhere safe. 

You’d wait long enough for Din to be suitably healed before tearing into him… and no doubt it would creep up for months afterwards. He could almost hear the cocky tone as you bickered about something and you’d whip that out, “Oh, well, I suppose I could always go an attack an Imp base and get shot of the sky. Stars above, can you imagine doing that? What fun.” 

The thought made him chuckle, just a bit even though it irritated his ribs again. 

Of course, that soft sound seemed like a siren call and seconds later, the door to his cell swung open and the King of Shadows and Death appeared – more like King of Arrogance and a limited wardrobe. 

Didn’t he have anything else to wear besides that cloak?

Or was Din just jealous? His own cape was a bit tattered, and he’d always envied the way you wore your own hooded cloak, blending into the darkness and sweeping around corners like some kind of phantom. 

Maker, his concussion must be getting worse. 

Pushing that thought from his spiralling mind, Din tilted his head back to look up at Haran, “Are you lonely? Is that why you keep coming to see me?” He tilted his head, ignoring the feeling like boulders crashing against the inside of his skull and the bits of light dancing across his vision, “Or are you looking for a bit of nightly entertainment? Because I have to say, I’m hardly in the shape to do so.” 

His tongue felt so heavy his mouth. 

Haran rolled those unsettling eyes as the door closed behind him and he walked over, leaning against the wall opposite, “Yes, Mando. My days are just so meaningless without your shiny head to light the way.” He put a gloved hand to his chest, gasping, “Why, if we weren’t on an Imperial Cruiser, I might just drop to one knee and beg for your hand in marriage, right now.” 

Prick. 

Din turned his head away, breathing shallow as his stomach flipped again, “What do you want? If you hadn’t noticed, I’m a rather busy man.”

Haran chose to ignore him, snapping his fingers together and pulling a face like he just remembered something, “Oh, wait. I can’t marry you, can I?” He looked up at Mando, golden eyes burning through the side of his helmet, “Because you already have plans to do that to someone else, don’t you? 

Din willed himself not to rise to the challenge, not to take the bait. He instead tried counting his breaths, focusing on anything but Haran’s silken words. 

They flowed like water around the small cell, almost irresistible, “Does she know? Does your little princess know that you’ve been carrying that ring around for months now?” He crossed one ankle over the other, “I have to admit, it is a stunner. How much did you have to save for a rock like that?” 

Anger hissed through him, but Din closed his eyes. 

Many jobs. He had saved the credits from… more jobs than he could remember. 

He would bring home most of the credits but would siphon off just a little from the top to add it to the tiny stash he had going. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get a ring with a huge stone like others he’d seen but… he had a feeling that you would love it regardless – at least he hoped. The ring had sat nestled in an inner pocket of his tight underlayer of clothing for a while now, and he could still feel it’s hard press into his skin. Thankfully it hadn’t been crushed in the fall. 

It was new to him. Not just the fact he had reached this point in his life, but the fact he was looking for an engagement ring. 

Mandalorian’s traditionally gave weapons instead but… you weren’t a Mandalorian. And the pair of you… this was different. And he wanted to do it right. 

You had taken on board so much of his traditions and rules… he wanted to do this for you. Do something in a way that you would be familiar with. 

Of course, there was one other major thing that was different – 

“Have you even revealed your face? How do you know she’ll want to marry you? I mean, she loves you now but… What if you take off your helmet and she can’t stand you?” Haran examined his gloves, his words low and almost childlike but that was the point. 

Din gritted his teeth, keeping his body loose – as much as it could be with the pain – “Seriously, are you here for a reason?”

Boom!

Suddenly, an explosion rocked the entire ship. 

It echoed down the hall, but Din could calculate it was far away, deep in the belly of the cruiser so most likely a cargo hold. 

Red lights began flashing outside of his cell, the sound of many thumping footsteps racing past. 

No… no-

Haran’s eyes unfocused and a cold, dark power brushed against Din. Even through the armour, he could feel it. The way it leeched the warmth from him, swallowed what little light was in the room. It had a pull to it, like the silken caress of his voice given life. 

Din shuddered, but Haran hadn’t noticed, instead feeling for something… someone…

His pupils dilated, black swallowing the gold and then he grinned, a cruel, delighted grin and his eyes came back into focus. He stood up, laughing, “Oh, Mando. I’m afraid your luck has run out. Your precious princess has just made her entrance.”

Bile rose up in Din’s throat and he shook his head, “No, you’re lying.” 

Din knew he wasn’t. Knew it because he felt you. Every cell in his body was crying out to leave the room, to be reunited with you. Hell, he could almost smell your achingly familiar scent. 

Haran advanced on him, crouching down and he took off his gloves, revealing a pair of slender hands – absolutely mauled with twisted, marbled scars. 

Din couldn’t stop staring at them, at the evidence of some awful injury – fire, by the looks of it, “What are you doing?” He couldn’t move away, the pain too great and the room spinning. Horror flooded his senses – horror and relief. 

He felt sick at the relief, because the last thing he wanted was you near any of these people, but at the same time… you were coming to rescue him. 

He wasn’t going to die in here – 

That power brushed against him again, slipping through the cracks in his armour and seeking out the injuries as Haran said softly, “The game is beginning.” 

~~~

~~

So, your idea to enter the ship discreetly… maybe hadn’t gone entirely to plan. 

In all honesty though, it wasn’t your fault that you’d been attacked. 

And it wasn’t your fault that the only evasive maneuverer that they wouldn’t be expecting was to lead them on a wild goose chase around the ship and then…. Crash into the cargo hold. 

Okay, so Boba had been going for a gentle landing, but the situation had required some fast thinking and strategy and so… there you were. 

Maybe it hadn’t been what you’d decided upon but… you had to admit, the explosion provided excellent cover for your teams to slip in. 

Amongst the chaos, you weaved around the edges of the cargo ship and you were through into a service passageway, watching Cara and Fennec disappear down a hallway opposite. 

~

The cruiser was like a maze. 

You had no idea how long you had been navigating the halls, but you knew it was long enough. 

Already, you had encountered a few Troopers, but they were silenced before they could raise the alarm – and stuffed into nearby rooms so they would be delayed when they awoke. 

Mayfeld kept pace easily with you and Ahsoka, as you sent out waves of power to sweep the area, “They most likely have him in the cells. But if they know we’re coming… They would have moved him. 

Somewhere more central, where we have no choice but to be in the open and vulnerable to attack. So, we should head toward the front of the ship, maybe.” He kept his voice hushed and his blaster aimed. 

Ahsoka peered over her shoulder at him, raising her eyebrows, “Tell me again where you came from?” She had her other saber in her hand, held in her trademark grip as she moved like a shadow. 

Mayfeld chuckled low, “Impressed?” 

Seriously?

Ahsoka rolled her eyes, looking ahead again, “Please, don’t flatter yourself.” She shook her head, pausing and raising a hand for you all to stop too. 

You pushed your power around the corner as well, combining with hers and you felt it. 

A cluster of Stormtroopers gathered near a service room. They were standing between you and the next hallway and would need to be removed. 

Focusing, you did a rough tally, “Nine of them. All armed.” You worked it through in your mind. You could take them – but there was still enough time for them to raise the alarm. Especially if they were near service rooms, they’d be able to signal to others and you would soon be ambushed. 

Even without power, Mayfeld appeared to have done the same, “We need to draw them away, get them somewhere quiet.” He looked back the way you came, then to the right where there was a dead end. 

Ahsoka sighed, shaking her head, “How? Any noise will alert the others. We need to - ” She broke off, having just seen what you were doing. “Where are you going?” 

You had moved away from the safety of the wall, drawing the hood of your cloak up over your face. “You and Mayfeld get ahead, see if you can find a map or something in one of those rooms.” 

Something dark thrummed in your blood, your palms itching with an intense need to… to make someone hurt. 

Mayfeld rose an eyebrow, facing you as he kept his back against the wall, “Are you crazy? They want you as much as you want Mando! You can’t just walk out there like a party gift.” 

A party gift that’ll explode in their faces. 

Stars above, the very thought almost made you laugh with an unnaturally shadowed delight. 

You indeed chuckled, rolling your eyes, “Exactly. What Stormtrooper grunt would pass up the opportunity to deliver Moff Gideon the very thing he’s doing all of this for? They’ll take me straight to him or throw me somewhere to wait. Either way, it gets them away from you.” 

Ahsoka was watching you, her eyebrows furrowed slightly. She didn’t agree with this anymore than Mayfield, but she too knew there was no other way. “Okay.” She ignored Mayfeld’s noise of protest, “Be careful. Try not to draw too much attention if you can help it. We’ll find anything we can and if you’re not back out here, then circle back to find you.” She was still watching you with that strange look – like she could sense something off. 

You gave her a playful salute before pulling out another knife from your boot, rolling your shoulders and strutting around the corner. 

Instantly, the group of Troopers turned around, guns raising as they beheld your cloaked appearance, and the shining lightsaber in your hand, “Hey! Stand down!” 

You dropped the hood, grinning wickedly as you purred, “Hello, boys.” 

~

You moved like a flame, tearing through the group of Stormtroopers and spreading your embers of death, ready to turn into a blaze. 

The whir of the lightsaber was the conductor of your dance, providing a beat as your separated limb from limb. The deadly energy whipped through the air, severing one of the Troopers hands from his wrist and he went down screaming, clutching at the stub at the end of his arm which was smouldering. You didn’t hesitate, whirling and flinging a sharp, deadly knife from your hand. 

There was a muffled, wet noise impact as it lodged itself in his throat, buried in the gap between the chest plates and helmet. 

You didn’t know if Ahsoka and Mayfield were close, if they’d found a map – you didn’t care. 

These men, these followers were standing between you and Din. Maybe they had been forced into it, but as you had said before. They made the choice to stay. 

A yell sounded from behind you and a sharp blow to the middle of your back had you stumbling, the air knocked from your lungs. 

You sucked in a sharp breath but before you could turn, the back of a blaster smashed your skull and you tumbled to the floor, fighting through the wave of nausea and the stars in your vision. The lightsaber was flung from your grip, skittering across the floor. 

A somewhat altered voice hissed against your ears, a knee pressing to your spine, “You think you can waltz in here and take us all down? I don’t care what the boss says.” The muzzle of his blaster now jammed against the back of your skull, forcing your forehead to press against the icy, metallic floor and you bit your lip with the impact, “You are vermin. A monster. People like you shouldn’t exist.” 

The dark creature within you snarled, and you spread your fingers of your free hand, the other caught up underneath you, “Didn’t your boss tell you?” 

You heard him cock his head, “Tell me, what?” He dug his blaster in harder, right against the base of your skull. 

A wicked grin spread your lips, causing them to split further but quite frankly, you didn’t care. The pain only aided in the focus, the hot blood nothing as it ran down your chin, “Watch the hands.” You lifted it from the floor, wrapping the Force around his throat and you gave him only a second to realise what was happening, before curling your hand into a fist and crushing his windpipe. 

He choked, hands flying up to his throat but then he was instantly gone, slumping forward over you in a heavy tangle of limbs. 

You groaned, shifting his body off of you, “Get off of me.” You muttered it uselessly, scrambling up and you scooped up the lightsaber, before turning to survey the hallway. 

Footsteps resounded from both ends of the hallway, and you lowered into a battle stance, adrenaline still humming through your veins and numbing everything else, everything but the fight and the goal – Din.  Along with the cool ice of battle… something heavy and alluring whispered to you, as black as night and hungry for more death. 

White armour burst into your left peripheral and you whirled toward it, flinging a hand forward and then back. 

The Stormtrooper was dragged off his feet, again trapped with the invisible pressure around his throat as he ground to a halt, legs swinging forward with the remaining force of him flying at you. 

He snarled, scrambling at his throat, “You can’t do this. You won’t beat him, no matter what you believe.” 

You rolled your eyes, letting your head fall back with a groan, “When they make you, do they implant some kind of need for all the dramatic bullshit? Honestly, whoever the first one of you was, he must have been an incredible bore.” 

The Trooper thrashed about uselessly, his weapon falling to the floor and you sensed the glare through the black visor, “At least we have hearts. And maybe we’re all the same, but we’re more human than you are.” 

Monster. 

Ah, back to this, yet again. 

Always back to this. 

Your smile was angelic, your appearance anything but. 

Long cloak hanging from your shoulders, battle suit fitted and black as coal. Your boots were stained red, the blood looking like ink on the dark leather. 

As for your face, you sported a wicked bruise to your cheekbone, a long cut across your forehead and with the blood dripping down your chin, the wild fury in your eyes… You probably looked every bit the monster they said you were. 

And you couldn’t care. 

“You think I haven’t heard this one before? How I have no humanity, no soul… I’m an abomination that shouldn’t deserve to live, blah blah blah.” You shook your head, something deadly and shadowed twisting through your blood, humming in dark delight at what you were doing, the devastation you were feeding it. 

There was a name for it. 

You knew what it was, the siren call to step over the line that you were only too pleased to answer. 

You’d deal with that later.

The Stormtrooper choked as you tightened the hold on him, obviously about to speak but then his head jerked, focusing over your shoulder. 

The other footsteps – a pair. One heavy, one light and nimble. 

Mayfeld, and Ahsoka. 

You didn’t bother turning around as you heard them skid to a stop, Mayfeld sucking in a breath at the sight around you. 

The fallen bodies of the Troopers, broken about and still smouldering, the blood coating the walls and the floor, the edge of your cloak trailing in it. The stench of death and the smell of molten plastic. 

Mayfeld whistled low, “Fucking hell…” 

You ignored them, focused on your prey, tightening that leash bit by bit. 

It was like the very air around you was alive, more frantic than normal. Your power flared, tasting the death in the atmosphere, slipping through the ship like a poison and marking where each target was. Every single obstacle between you and your love. 

You could feel their living souls, see them in your mind like glowing stars in the sky. You knew that if you went for them, you could close your eyes and still take them down as quickly and skilfully as if your eyes were open. 

Is this how Haran was so good at killing? So skilled at finding people? 

Without the distraction of sight and sound, you needn’t worry about the expressions on people’s faces, the noises they made as they died. 

With your eyes shut, using this glittering map in your mind… they were merely lights to snuff out. 

“If you follow this path… No one will be able to help you. You will have to make the choice whether to stay on it, or to fight your way out.” Ahsoka’s voice was a soft breeze in the night of your mind, softly lit in the same white as her sabers, of which one you held in your hand. 

A symbol of strength… which you had used to destroy lives. 

Your eyes opened slowly, gazing up at the Stormtrooper ahead of you. 

A choice. 

Seconds ticked by, seconds you knew were slipping away on the clock of Din’s life as you made up your mind. 

The Trooper fell to the bloody floor and your voice was demanding, no room for argument, “Take us to your little master. I except he’ll be waiting.”

~~~

~~

Booted footsteps rang out on the cold metal hallways. 

The King of Shadows and Death could move like a whisper on the wind, as if the air itself parted around him and kept him silent. 

But this time, he wanted to be heard. 

He wanted the Mandalorian to know that his hope had been in vain. 

He merely looked at the guards standing either side of the door and they nodded, one scanning the chip that would trigger the heavy locks in the door. 

It swung open and Haran crossed the threshold, gazing down at the broken Mandalorian, slumped on his cot. He grinned, cocking his head, “Time’s up, Mando. Your saviour has come to rescue you from the enemy walls. Looks like you don’t know her as well as you thought.” 

The Mandalorian growled, dried blood like rust on his beskar, “If you think you’ll walk out of this unharmed, you obviously don’t know her like you think you do.” 

The last time Haran came to see him, he had healed his injuries just enough that Mando wasn’t permanently dancing the line between being awake and being unconscious. He did nothing to remove the pain, or the severity of them, but he had prevented infection. He’d also healed his legs to the point where he could walk – barely. 

What good was a knight who fell before the Queen could finish the game? 

Haran walked over to him, hauling him to his feet. The Mandalorian was the same height as him, so he gauged he was looking right into Mando’s eyes when he whispered, “I think I know her a lot better than you think. I can tell you that she would not have come here peacefully. And she would not have let go the people that stood in her path.” 

Mando shook his head, trying to pull away from him but he was unsteady on his feet, the blood rushing from his head, “No. You’re wrong. She won’t listen to that call, to the... Dark Side or whatever it is. She’s walked that line before, and she’ll make the right decision again.” 

Haran chuckled low, half dragging the beskar-clad knight out of the door, “Oh, I don’t doubt that she’ll make the right decision. But whether or not it’s right depends on which side you’re standing on.” 

The Mandalorian groaned, hating that he couldn’t pull away from Haran, hated the weakness of his body, the unsteady, lurching footsteps of his still fractured legs and the armour that weighed down on his broken bones. “Why are you doing this? Why are you so obsessed with corrupting her? You’ve been living your sick little life for… however long it is now. Surely there’s some other person to terrorize?” 

Haran scoffed, rolling his amber eyes, “You really need to get it through that thick skull of yours – I’m not corrupting her. I’m merely bringing back someone she’s tried to bury.” He looked over at Mando, raising his eyebrows, “Has she told you? About the time she had no code of honour, of mercy?”

The man beside him snarled, his leg giving way for a moment as agony rippled up his hip, his bones screaming, “What the fuck are you talking about now?” 

It was easy to hold him up, despite the weight of his beskar and they walked down the imposing hallways, three Stormtroopers flanking them – whether it was to stop Mando trying something, or stop Haran having his fun, he didn’t know. Or care. 

“There was a time, little hunter, where your precious princess slaughtered anyone who dared stand in her way. She was broken, hungry for vengeance and only to eager to have her fill.”

Mando was quiet for a moment, the heavy scuff-drag of his boots the only sound to be heard – one he probably hated as he moved nearly as silently as Haran did. 

Something like triumph flickered over Haran’s face at his silence, “You truly didn’t know? Oh dear… There’s a lot she hasn’t told you, Lori. Things I’ve seen in her head that I doubt even she remembers she did.” He guided them around toward the corner, to where it would all come to a head. 

And to where his power was tugging him, whispering to him of the state the next hallway had been left in. 

The Mandalorian pushed away from him, summoning some kind of inner reserve of strength. He stopped, the guards pausing behind him and shifting their weapons as a warning. He looked at Haran, the harsh lighting bouncing off his beskar, revealing nothing of the man beneath and Haran wondered if he had revealed his face yet. 

“You seem to think telling me these things will bother me or make me look at her differently. Whatever she’s done, whatever terrible things she’s committed… it doesn’t change the fact that I love her.” He stepped forward, ignoring the guards as they moved too, “I’ll tell you something, Shadow man. There is a light that burns within her, a fire that could rival the very stars up there.” He pointed to the ceiling, “And no ounce of darkness, be it her own past or your own twisted powers, will ever snuff it out.” 

He moved that finger to jab Haran’s chest. “You tried to dump her at the bottom of a lake, and she came out burning brighter than before. So carry on, tell me all these horror stories to try and scare me away.” He shrugged, the rough baritone of his voice steady, ringing with loyalty and truth – and threat, “All you’re doing is making me love her even more.” 

Golden eyes flicked between the visor, assessing. Plotting. 

Then Haran smiled, a sinister, deadly smile as he inclined his head, “I don’t doubt for a second everything you said is true.” He brought his hands together behind his back, resuming the walk and he used his power to push the Mandalorian along. “I believe that you’re willing to throw down the gauntlet to protect her honour every single time someone threatens it. But I wonder… All you’ve heard is stories.” 

He walked around the corner and stopped yet again, his dark power dragging Mando to his side. “What will you do when faced with the truth first-hand?” 

The hallway was carnage. 

A bloody battlefield. 

Multiple bodies littered the stark floors, bright red blood sprayed all along the walls – even the ceiling. The once white armour of the Troopers was stained with the stuff, their bodies bent at unnatural angles, as if a strong power had taken hold of their limbs and yanked them in all the wrong directions until bones shattered and muscles tore. 

The Mandalorian looked upon the scene, the blood coating the tips of his boots. 

A dismembered hand lay just a few feet away and the severed wrist, the tendons hanging out of it... all singed. As if cleaved from the body by something white-hot and burning. 

A lightsaber. 

Which would explain why the hard shell-like armour of the fallen Troopers were marked with black holes and marks, the stench of melting plastic mingling with the reek of burnt bodies and blood. 

This was the work of someone with deadly skill, usually so precise… pushed to the edge, to this. 

Oh, it wasn’t mindless, not by any means. 

It was clearly thought out… maybe even savoured. 

Haran breathed in the smell like he was standing in a field of flowers, “Well. I have to say, I’m impressed. This looks like something I’d leave behind.” He walked through the mess of shredded bodies, a phantom wind lifting the edge of his cloak so it didn’t drag in the blood, “These poor soldiers never had the chance.” He crouched down, pushing the helmet of one Trooper – resulting in the head rolling a few inches away from his body. 

He looked at the Mandalorian, raising an eyebrow as the fluorescent lighting brought out his scars, “Still singing her praises?” 

The Mandalorian was silent, hands clenched at his sides but then he moved, not away from the scene, but toward it. 

Through it. 

Through the blood and flesh until he was standing right in front of Haran, feet splashing to a stop in the scarlet river, “Always.”

~~~

~~

Moff Gideon was waiting for you as you were escorted into a large, open chamber.

He stood there, hands clasped behind his back, with a young girl at his side – presumably his second in command.  There was a sick expression of glee on his face, dark eyes glittering with what he presumed was triumph. 

Next to him, stood Haran, clad in black as always, with that embroidered cloak holding – 

Din. 

Oh, the sight of your Mandalorian threatened to bring you to your knees as you were stopped a few metres away. 

You couldn’t see his body – obviously – but you knew simply from the way he held himself, that he was terrible injured. 

He seemed to be bearing his weight to one side, slumped over even as he stood, and you could hear is laboured breathing from here. 

Oh Din, what happened to you…

You had to admit, a small part of you wondered if there would be anything left of him when you arrived. Not from the possibility of torture, but simply from that terrible fall. 

The thought of tumbling all that way down to the ground, encased in a rock-solid metal shell… You couldn’t even fathom it. 

And yet, there Din was, still alive after something that should have killed him. 

Clearly, the Maker had plans for him. 

Gideon cleared his throat, watching the Trooper grunt retreat to the edge of the room, “Well, well. After all my time spent hunting you… Here you are.” He cocked his head, “I thought you’d be taller.” 

You rolled your eyes, sighing, “Oh stars above, please tell me this isn’t another villain speech. I hate those.” 

Haran’s lips twitched perhaps remembering this exact same conversation from his bunker. 

You flickered your eyes to him, before looking back at Moff Gideon, who was looking at you with… a rather bored expression already. 

“I was told you were insolent and arrogant, and I can see my sources were correct. They were also correct about how to summon you here.” 

He looked over at Haran, “Though it took many years for someone’s ideas to actually bear fruit. Well done.” 

Haran bristled slightly, as if taking praise from a mere human man irritated him. 

You supposed it did. 

Gideon was nothing compared to Haran, power or not.  

“Well, I would hate to disappoint you, of course.” You shot him a sweet smile, venom in your eyes, “If you wouldn’t mind, do you think you could tell me what it is you want before I take my Mandalorian here and leave this dump.” You held up your comms watch, “I have a party in Coruscant I’m due to be at and it won’t look very good if I’m late.” 

You thought you may have heard muffled chuckles from the line of Stormtroopers assembled behind him, but you paid it no heed. 

Gideon bared his teeth at you, eyes blazing, and he brought a hand in front of him to point at Din, “Do you not realise, we have your precious bounty hunter captive? Do you not realise who is holding him?” 

You looked over at Haran, shrugging lightly, “A guy who has interesting taste in fashion?” 

Did Gideon not know about the bunker or the lake? Had Haran neglected to tell him you’d met before?

Haran revealed nothing in his expression, but there was something in his eyes… something ancient… some of betrayal? Of lies? 

Moff Gideon snarled at you, “Insolent creature. You are here because we allowed you to be. In fact, the only reason that happened, is because of the failures of the people I sent after you. Had they done their job, you would have been broken long ago. That disgusting affliction of yours burnt out of you.” 

Heat licked down your spine, and the atmosphere in the room shifted as the three Force wielders within it straightened at is words, the ugly discrimination in his words. 

Dangerous game to play, Gideon. 

You kept your breathing even, feeling the shadows prowl beneath your skin, teeth and claws still dripping with blood from the hallways, wanting more, “Have you ever wondered why you’re stuck here, chasing down women and babies?” You took a step forward, anger and pride for yourself, for Ahsoka, every Force Sensitive person both dead and alive making your voice carry strong over the empty air – even pride for Haran, in some way.  

Gideon rose an eyebrow, “Do tell.” 

“You’re stuck in the past. You believe that people like us,” You motioned to yourself, “You believe we are abominations. Freaks of nature. The Force is nature. It’s the very thing that binds us all together. There is no fear in it, no monstrosity. I don’t know why it’s so hard for you people to understand.” 

The Officer sighed, shaking his head and moving a step closer as well, “Oh, I understand that. I wasn’t referring to the others in this room. I was referring to you. You, my dear, have been sick and twisted from the very moment you were born.” 

Din pulled against Haran’s grip, growling in anger, “I’d advise you to stop speaking.” 

Haran yanked him hard, “Stay quiet.” He spat the words at Din, but you didn’t fail to notice the murderous look he shot Gideon over Din’s head, his golden eyes livid. 

A shaking had taken over your hands, so you clenched them tighter around your weapons, years of abuse playing in your mind. 

But you pushed back against it, for you were stronger now. Stronger because of it, not in spite of it. 

Gideon continued, looking upon you in disgust but there was a sick fascination here too, “You have been marked for death long before you showed your powers. You think it was coincidence that the hunter was stalking you in your miserable little village? She was there on orders.” He looked over you, “A child responsible for the deaths of her parents. You might as well have pushed the blade in your mothers flesh yourself.” 

A roaring took over your head, filling your ears with the sounds of screaming, the stench of blood and the way the light sapped from your life as your parents died. 

But… the world was different now. 

It was bright again. 

Because of Din, your friends… That’s why you were here. 

You glared at Gideon, wanting so desperately to tear out his throat with your power, your hands, or even your teeth – but now wasn’t the time. You shook your head, “You don’t win this time, Gideon. I’m afraid your sad little life will be ruled by chasing me for just a little longer.” With that, you flung your hands wide, making your power explode through the room with a battering impact. 

You felt another wave at the same time as yours, fuelling it – Ahsoka’s. 

You only just managed to keep it free from Din, though Haran had thrown up a hand milliseconds before you, as if sensing what you were going to do – and evidently creating a shield. 

Gideon and the Troopers weren’t quite so lucky. 

The Force flung him through the air, causing his head to smash harshly against a metal beam and he crumpled to the ground, limp. 

Haran spun to look at him, and it occurred to you – he should have protected him too. He was working for Gideon. Or… at least pretending to be. 

Who was really calling the shots here?

No time for that now. 

You used Haran’s distraction to throw yourself at him, activating the lightsaber and unleashing yourself on him with a strangled cry of rage. 

He startled, just a few seconds too late and he pushed Din at you in an attempt to slow you down. 

Perfect. 

Just as you planned. 

You were never really going to engage in battle with him, had never intended to attack him. 

But you knew he would use Din as a shield, thinking you were too blidned in your rage – but you proved him wrong. 

Din careened into you, stumbling against your body and you both nearly tumbled to the floor, but then Cara was there, helping you support his body as he wrapped an arm around you, “You came…” His voice was hoarse, weak with pain and exhaustion. 

The relief and love in his voice nearly brought you to the ground, “Of course I came for you, Din. I will always come for you.” You gave him a watery smile, walking toward the others, keeping one eye behind you as Haran watched. 

Why wasn’t he moving… Why wasn’t he attacking?

“I saw what you did.” Haran’s silken voice called out from behind you, making you pause in your retreat. “I know you feel it. The call to the Dark Side. And I know that you answered it.” 

That would be why. 

You slowed to a stop, forcing Din and Cara to slow too. “How do you know I answered it?” You looked straight ahead, still not turning around. 

Haran sounded as though he took a step forward, “I felt it. I felt it when you allowed the Dark to show you how to get here. You saw the lives as glowing lights, a map to saving your Mandalorian. And the mess you left in that hallway…” He trailed off meaningfully, “You needn’t fear it, darling. It’s not evil. It’s merely… a different perspective.” His voice had melted into the same one that had coaxed you into swallowing the poison, into stepping off the edge. 

Here you were, yet again. Only you weren’t standing on the precipice of a raging torrent… You were standing on the edge of the Dark Side. 

And his words had instantly awoken it, set it pining for a life to be unleashed, untamed. 

Slowly, you turned around, cringing when Din’s broken feet tumbled over each other too, so you slowly let go “A different perspective…?” You cocked your head, voice starting to sound unsure as his seductive baritone filtered through your mind, weaving around it. 

He smiled, that gorgeous, disarming smile that instantly made you lock focus on him, “Yes. Others may tell you that the dark side is evil… But it isn’t. It’s simply using that power in a different way. Using it to get the things that you deserve.”

You swallowed, feet hanging over that metaphorical edge, “You – You promise? I can’t go back to that place. I can’t be a… monster again.” Your voice trembled over the word; eyes locked on his amber ones. 

Din shook his head fiercely from your left, fighting against Cara’s hold as she pulled him away, but he was too weak, “No. Sweetheart, no. Stop listening to him, please… He’s lying to you. You don’t need this. You don’t need that darkness, princess. You’re so good, so strong… please don’t do this.” 

And then you made a decision. 

You ignored Din.

And walked toward Haran. 

Stepping off of that edge. 

Haran extended a gloved hand to you, “That’s it, darling. That’s it… Coming here doesn’t make you a monster, it just means you are claiming your birth right. This is where you belong.” 

As you reached his presence, a feeling wrapped over you, muffling Din’s voice, the sounds of the others around you. You slid your hand through his, gasping a little as you felt your shadowy beast respond to his own, felt them twine around each other, greet each other. 

“I don’t…” Uncertainty still clouded your expression, and you lingered a little, worrying you were making a fatal mistake. 

He saw this, gently drawing you closer and into the circle of his arms, “No one will die. Your Mandalorian, your friends… We will help them leave safely and then… Then we can begin.” He guided your head to his neck. 

Din’s voice, though muffled, was desperate, clawing at you, “No! Cyar'ika, you can’t. Please, I’m begging you. You don’t need to go to him, you don’t need to do this. I love you. I love you for who you are, for every single thing. I’m not afraid of you, of any single part of you.” He sobbed. 

Din sobbed, reaching for you, “Please don’t leave me alone.” 

You were glad your head was pressed to Haran’s neck, because the backs of your eyes burned, shame and guilt threatening to choke you. 

You had to do this. 

You had to do it now before you shattered completely.

You were quiet, and then just… went pliant in his arms. You raised your own to his back, winding around his lean frame and lifted your face from Haran’s neck, nuzzling your nose along his neck, “I believe you.”  

“NO!!” Din fell to his knees beside Cara, shaking his head in disbelief. “Sweetheart, please don’t do this. Please-” The way his voice broke tore through your heart, and you nearly backed out right then and there. 

But you didn’t because Din… He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand why you had to do this… 

Haran’s arms tightened around you, one coming up to cradle the back of your head, “Good girl. I always knew you would see the light.” A deliberate, ironic choice of words form the King of Shadows and Death.

Din’s sobs speared though you, each devasted noise threatening the tears building in your own throat. 

Raising on tiptoe slightly, you ran a hand down his back, the other splaying wide, ready. 

You brushed your lips along the smooth line of his skin, breathing in the smell of wind and midnight, “There’s just… There’s one little thing…” 

Haran nodded, his cheek resting against your hair, “Anything. Anything you want, it’s yours.” 

His words muffled the soft sound of an object flying into your hand as you let out a breath against the shell of his ear, whispering, “I will never be your Queen.” 

The sound of a lightsaber activating, not through air… but through flesh. 

Haran’s choke of surprise – and agony. 

You held his sagging body to yours, snarling, “That’s for the lake, you twisted asshole.” You stepped back, letting him fall to his knees, yanking free the lightsaber and savouring the gritted howl of agony as you tore back through more flesh and tendon. 

Those amber eyes of his blazed like molten gold, deadly and furious, “You don’t know the mistake you’re making. You’re throwing away your life with these fools.” 

You bared your teeth at him, raising the saber threateningly to his throat, letting it make the faintest contact, “Come after me again, and I will end you. I don’t care if you’re hundreds of yours old, or the King of Death or whatever else you call yourself. I’m not afraid of you. And I will destroy you before you can do the same to anyone else.” 

With that, you quickly turned, bolting toward your family and friends, “Now!!” 

Ahsoka flung her hands wide at the same time as you, creating a wide bubble of Force energy that blew through the space. 

Every Stormtrooper in the area was knocked flat on their back, instantly out like lights as you threw your arm around Din’s shoulders, trying to get him up as he stared at you. 

“What… I don’t…” His voice was bewildered, dazed with pain and he was heavy in your arms. 

You whimpered just slightly, desperation and anxiety creeping forward, the edge of battle slowly fading, “I’ll explain everything later, we have to go now, Lori. Please.” 

Mayfeld was suddenly there, supporting his other side and then you were all running for the cargo hold, leaving the destruction behind you. 

Even as you ran, Cara and Fennec scouting ahead, Ahsoka behind you aiding with the energy bubble and Mayfeld helping you carry Din… You couldn’t quite figure out how you had pulled this off. 

You’d done it. 

~~~

~~

Haran watched her leave, supporting the Mandalorian and hurrying away with her friends, her power combined with Tano’s to create an impenetrable shield around them all. 

Well… He would have gotten through with half a thought – perhaps a whole one – but any of the other fools in this place wouldn’t stand a chance. 

Many footsteps rushed into the room and then he felt hands on him, pushing away his own, trying to get to his wound. 

He looked down, saw a medic with their pack open by his side, flitting and fiddling. 

“Leave it.” His silken voice was hard ice, enough of a bite there to inform the medic what would happen if they didn’t leave. 

Despite the medics healing instincts, they knew the tone well, and moments later the kit was packed up and Haran was already turning away from the retreating figure. 

Strong. 

She had grown stronger far quicker than even he had expected. He knew it was within her, but he had thought the trauma ran deeper, its claws embedded into her very soul and creating a barrier every time she would try to tap into the power. 

Tano must have taught her how to master her fear, or how to get past it.

Useful, it saved him a job… but also irritating. If she was already harnessing that trauma, it would mean he could no longer use that aspect. 

Haran walked the path she had taken, out to the cargo load, the harsh wind roaring across the space as the tech’s struggled to gain control of the ship again, to remove whatever bug the girl and her friends had slipped in. 

No matter. It didn’t upturn his plans… just meant he had to work with a new angle. 

And fortunately, he had one, courtesy of the would-be Queen herself.

Haran had come across the bodies in the hallway on his way in here, saw the way they were dumped on the ground with their limbs at unnatural angles, their armour shattered from the inside out. 

And if the still smoking scorch marks all over their bodies weren’t indication enough, a sweep of his power had revealed massive internal devastation. 

Haran stood with a gloved hand pressed to the bleeding wound as he watched the steadily shrinking shape of a ship. A mere thought had the hole stitching back together as he extended his fingers out slowly. 

No one on the clean side of the Force would wreak havoc like that of the hallway, regardless of their love having been kidnapped and beaten. 

And that meant simply one thing. And one thing only.

She was being called to the Dark Side. 

And she’d heeded that call. 

Maybe only temporary, but the Dark Side was like Haran himself. Once you let it in, once you got that first taste… it never truly left. She could deny it all she wanted, trick him with it, think it was merely a reaction from the stress of saving the Mandalorian, but it had already rooted within her. 

He could feel it. 

Haran tipped his head back and laughed, his ebony curls dancing across his forehead as the wind tugged and pushed at his tall, lean frame. A lone pillar of darkness, hovering at the edge of the world. 

Previous| Next

[theloveclub-18]

She’s just a friend

summary: you and Ransom decided to try that friends with benefits thing

pairing: Ransom Drysdale x reader

word count: 1947

warnings: explicit language, mentions of sex, but no actual smut, little angst

A/n: please do not copy, rewrite, translate or post my work anywhere. No permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work. 

———————————————————————

It was 3:15 a.m. when you opened your eyes. Ransom was lying next to you with his arm around you waist. You took a deep breath and tried to put out of his embrace, but he only held you closer. You should’ve not stay through the night and leave by the end of your fourth and last round.

Yeah, sex with Hugh Ransom was good, even more it was absolutely fantastic. You always thought about how maybe he ruined you for other partners. This man was so ridiculously good in it. What you also thought about was how maybe you should’ve known better and never agree for that friends with benefits thing. In your defense you really needed an emotional discharging and he’s always lookin’ so fucking sexy, so you just gave up, when he so casually asked you about it after a couple glasses of whiskey few months ago.

But now god knows how much you regret it because you fell and fell hard for that “asshole”. Well, actually he’s not that bad it’s more about how he wants other to see him. And they do. They all believe in it, his image of arrogant cold hearted jerk. Ransom is a jerk in fact, but sometimes you see things that others don’t. You see a broken boy who tries to cover his vulnerabilities by venom observations and jackass demeanor.

Of course you tried to talk to him about it, talk about what he went through, but it usually never worked out. Though one time after another family event you saw something in his eyes, a speck of sorrow and you let yourself to hope that this is the moment when he’d finally open up. It also was the moment when you knew how much you loved him.

But as soon as this thought slipped through your head, Ransom changed in face, as if he read your mind and he didn’t like what he saw. He stand out from the nice and warm bed and headed for the kitchen saying you should probably go home. He didn’t come back to the bedroom and soon you left his apartment with tears on your face.

You had nothing to blame him for. It was pretty clear from the start that he didn’t want anything serious from you or from anyone else. Ransom said he didn’t believe in such things like love and relationships but good fuck was something he believed very much.

So were you. At least for the first couple of months.

But then you did the stupidest thing you could ever do...you let yourself hope for more. You’ve started to notice his lovely glances from across the room and the way he always try to hold you whenever other guys where approaching you like he was marking you as his. How he was laughing at your stupid jokes and watched your favorite sitcoms with you.

It was three weeks later when you came to the local bar with your coworkers to relax on friday night after a hard week and spotted him flirting with some pretty girl at the table. You remembered her, she was the girl who takes care of his grandfather. Ransom was in white sweater that you gave him this christmas and the girl in cute little dress, well, she was really gorgeous one with big puppy eyes and the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. You knew you can’t compete.

He didn’t even notice you there and even if he did what’s the matter. He’d probably just say hello and walk away. You tried to calm yourself down and stop being so jealous, because you have no rights for it, but still it was breaking your heart.

The next day when you came to his apartment to take some of your things, you heard something you wish you’d never heard.Ransom was talking on phone when you walked in.

-“Yeah, man, you know she’s just a friend to me...yeah, I know-I know but hey you know i’ll never settle down for anyone...ahahahah...yes, even for Megan Fox”-Ransom laughed and you left as fast as you can.

And you were just a friend indeed and nothing more. You felt like you was the biggest fool on earth for believing that you really had a chance with someone like him.

You crying all way home and when you finally get there, you thought about how you going to end everything with goddamn Ransom, because of how much pain it caused you too be so close with him yet so far.

However now you laying in bed with the same man that you promised you’d never sleep again with, while he’s holding you close to his chest. Yeah, sometimes things doesn’t work the way you want them to.

You look at his peaceful beautiful face and wonder how would it feel to be loved by this man. To spend your life by his side.

“Well”- you think to yourself - “I guess we’ll never know”. And with that you slowly remove the blanket and get up from the bed careful enough to not wake Ransom up.

You stand a little bit too long in front of the front door and hesitate to leave, cause you know that this was probably the last night with him. When you get in the car you finally feel how hot your tears are and how heavy is this weight of unrequited love on your chest.

~

Days go by and you slowly started to live without him. You told your roommate Sarah never let him in again and blocked his number. You thought that maybe you doing something wrong and maybe you should’ve been happy with what you had. But then again you remembered that you’d never be more than a fuck buddy to him and he made himself pretty clear saying this to some of his friends just a couple of days ago.

“It’s time to move on”-you were thinking as you walked into some fancy restaurant for set up date that was arranged by Sarah. She said he’s very sweet and a doctor, so why don’t try it? Maybe this guy Mark is all you’ve dreamed for?

The guy is the complete opposite of Ransom. He’s not that tall, but very nice and lovely. He also have a pretty blonde curls and dark brown eyes that mean nothing to you, cause they’re not as deep as Ransom’s. You really try to enjoy the date, but all you can think about is how the man in front of you is not Ransom.

-“So what’s the guy’s name?”-Mark said.

-“What do you mean?”-you said with confused look-“What guy?”

-“The one you want to see on this chair instead of me”- he said with weak smile and understanding look- “Sarah told me about you wanting to move on and forget about «the jerk», but now i see you everything but ready to move on, so please tell me about it and maybe i’ll can help”

You gasped and thought about how your friend didn’t lie about Mark being kind and maybe a little too much kind to you.

-“Listen, I don’t think it’s a good idea to discuss it right know, cause...”- you started, but get interrupted by Mark.

-“No, Y/N, I obviously can see that you not mentally here right now and that’s okay, it took me a long time to recover from my previous relationship too so i don’t wanna push you into something, you know. We can just have dinner like a good old friends and talk about our ex’s”-he smiled-“So feel free to start”

-“Okay”-you said still trying to proceed what he just said-“Well, i don’t wanna say his name and he wasn’t even my boyfriend. We just had sex with no strings attached”

-“But you get attached?”-he asked with a sad smile.

-“Yeah, and now i’m fucked”-you replied.

-“What did he say ‘bout your feelings?”-Mark asked as he sipped his wine.

-“Oh, no. I didn’t tell him about my feelings”-you said with sad eyes and tired smile-“I didn’t lost my mind completely to say to Ransom Drysdale that i love him with my whole heart and probably will never be able to not”

-“You love me?”-you heard a familiar voice behind you back and wished you could’ve just disappear.

-“I think I should go”-Mark said and hurried for the exit with a small smirk.

When you turn around you saw Ransom.

He looked worse than the last time you saw him. He looked tired and his beautiful blue eyes were full of so many things, that it confused you so much that you didn't know what to say.

-”Please, Y/N, tell me”-he said-“You love me?”-he looked so broken inside and desperate for my answer.

-“I...”-you hesitated for moment, but then decided to risk it all-“Of course i love you, Ransom, how can i not?”

-“Then why you left me?”-he said with pain in his eyes-“Left me in a middle of the night? Left me when i thought you are the one who’ll never do that.”

-“Because you didn’t”-you said with a small whimper feeling the weight on your chest again-“You didn’t loved me”

-“I did”- he said and finally you saw how red his eyes were-“And i do now”

-“Then why you didn’t tell me that? How was i supposed to know that when you started to close off every time i tried to bring something about feelings up?”-you said with a bitter feeling on you tongue.

“It was hard for me, okay? I’ve never told this to anyone before”-he said as his cheeks grew red-“Even to my mom when i was a child. I didn’t have a family when you can easily say such words”-Ransom took a deep breath before he could continue-“And then i met you and i liked you obviously. You became the light of my life. All those years I was living in a blur and never truly seeing things the way they where. I was a fool, because every time i was so afraid to ruin what we had, i wasn’t sure that you could ever feel the same. Y/N, i’m not a good guy and i’ve done a lot of bad things, but you were the only right thing in my life and i was afraid to admit it..”

You didn’t let him finish as you land your lips over his in a most gentle kiss you’ve ever had. You felt him smiling through the kiss as he was grabbing you closer and pulling you into another and more intimate kiss.

-“Is that mean i have a second chance?”-he said with a hopeful smile between the kisses.

-“No”-you said furrowing your brows only to meet his confused gaze-“Just kidding, of course you have, i don’t wanna lose you again”-you chuckled as you put your arms on his chest and looked into his ocean eyes, thinking that maybe you are the lucky one and you will be able to find out what it is like to be loved by Ransom Drysdale.