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rayofsunas · 3 years

Text

s/o has a mental/nervous breakdown.

A/n: hello everyone! I hope your day is going alright, and that you’re doing well 🥰 I recently hit 300+ folllwers, like Sunday morning, and omg, that was the best thing to wake up too 🥺❤️ thank you those new and old for following and taking a chance with my account and sometimes trashy works 🙃 I’m gonna make a longer post at some point saying my thanks and discuss what I plan to do to celebrate 300 followers. It would really mean a lot to me if you guys chimed in if you have any ideas, after all, this is a thanks to you and I want you all to be involved! also, if you saw my recent rambles about how a draft was deleted, it’s referring to this post... what I had written got deleted TWICE in the span of FIVE MINUTES. gosh I was so pissed, I almost screamed. mobile tumblr is not it 😔 but here we are. I hope you like this. I tried to write this three times.... 🤡 also, since I am not a doctor or anything, I put a link to possible symptoms/what a “mental breakdown” is, that’s in the warnings, just click the link, it helped with my accuracy.

Summary: s/o has a mental/nervous breakdown.

Parings: Xiao/Reader, Scaramouche/Reader, Albedo/Reader, Childe/Reader (all fem reader)

Warnings: angst, mental breakdown (panic attacks, stress, anxiety, ptsd, hallucinations, insomnia) fluff, swearing, mentions of death, mentions of injury

Word count: 3.5k (whew after tumblr DELETING this draft twice here we are folks ;-;)

requested by @mintyhuening

Xiao

he knew you weren’t okay at all

Xiao knew the moment you locked yourself in your house

at first he thought maybe you were just temporarily feeling this way, but as the weeks passed and you hadn’t come out, he decided maybe not

coming from someone who enjoyed silence and solitude he could understand the distancing part, but it had been weeks, and even he needed socialization, so why hadn’t you come out?

you spoke to him through the door a few times, letting him know you were alright

he didn’t believe that though, sure you were alive, but not alright, he was mainly checking for confirmation to see if you were still alive while he thought of a good way to approach the situation

he didn’t want to invade your privacy, but he also hated the fact that you wouldn’t come out, not even to see him

it was lonely without you, he concluded

even for someone who enjoy solitude

you were a careful creature, but never this careful and cautious...

were humans always like this?

eventually, he couldn’t stand it, and did find other ways to get into your house

he grew antsy after pacing outside your door for days

he found you huddled in your bed, a heap of pillows and blankets surrounding you

you were shocked to see him when he’d sat down on the foot of the bed, causing it to dip significantly

“How did you get in?” You snapped once you saw who it was.

“I have my ways.” He said raspily. With a huff of annoyance, you were back to facing the wall, away from the Adepti.

“It’s dark in here.” He announced matter a factly, looking around the nearly pitch-black room, windows and doors covered by sheets and hefty duty curtains. “It’s how I like it.”

“It’s not healthy.”

“I don’t care, go away.”

Xiao was starting to grow impatient surprisingly, he truly just wanted to help, why couldn't you see that?

“Being passive is not going to help the situation, please tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing, I’m just tired.”

He worried. If he said the wrong, would you push him away even further? If he said the right thing, would you even care? Did you want help?

Xiao moved closer to you, hand going to touch your leg, although it was underneath the blankets, you felt it and did have to admit the affection was comforting.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” Xiao said. “Your friends miss you, I miss you as well.”

Maybe if you weren’t cooped up here anymore, you would start to come around. The room and house all together were very stuffy, dark, and depressing, he despised it.

“It’s beautiful outside, come with me,” he'd whispered. “At least if you don’t want to be around people, could you allow me to take you to a secluded area?”

“The fresh air will do you good.”

You were thinking about it, you had to of been if you still cared.

“Fine, mother.” He watched with hope in his eyes as you slowly rose from the bed, and began

The outside world was very very bright at first, enough to induce a headache. But you became used to it the more you were out.

Xiao stayed true to his word like you knew he would unless you wouldn’t have come. You were taken to a very secluded area, there wasn’t even a path or road to it, just green luscious grass, and crystal core everywhere, beautiful blue and orange ones; Anemo and Geo respectively. You weren’t sure where you were, somewhere between Mondstadt and Liyue, you assumed.

The fresh air did wonders, Xiao had noticed. You seemed to open up. Telling him a little of the problem. You had told him about how life was just stressful right now, you hadn’t taken any commissions in weeks, spoken to any of your friends Mondstadt, hence why they had come to him, accusing him of kidnapping and brainwashing you. He was offended, nonetheless let them know that wasn’t the case.

The ever so secluded Xiao would take you out more, slowly introducing you to crowds of people, and would still take you on daily walks to that secret place you now called your special spot.

It would take a while, he knew that, and you wouldn’t be comfortable doing everything that others around you did, maybe not for a while. He could respect that, as long as you allowed him to help and encourage you.

Scaramouche

being a harbinger was HARD, Scaramouche knew that, even if he didn’t admit it

admitting it was challenging, could lead to always being doubted or seen as incompetent. therefore, no one mentions how hard it is

he had been off doing his duties when he got news that you had lashed out at a few lower rank fatui on your team, resulting in you being called in to meet with The Tsaritsa... let's just say she went easy on you because you were one of her highest ranking soldiers, if not, she would've severely punished you

you were forced back to your sleeping quarters immediately to calm down, told to stay put until you could stop “lashing out like a child” as she had put it

you weren’t one to argue against The Tsaritsa, everyone knew that was common rule... so you walked back as calmly as you could without snapping at anyone else

when Scaramouche had heard how you acted, he was annoyed

the always so calm and calculated Y/n, lashing out at her fellow members? he couldn’t help but be annoyed, despite it being completely out of character of you

he had finished his duties relatively quick, wondering why you were acting so out of character

when he got back, he found you in your sleeping quarters, pacing in front of the large windows near the furthest end of your room

you were still wearing your typical combat gear, though your hair disheveled and body language looking extremely anxious, he hoped it was not yours...

“What did you do this time?” Had asked the violet-eyed man, carelessly throwing his hat on your bed, lean arms folding across his chest.

No response.

“Excuse me, I believe I asked you a question.”

A loud irritable huff.

“Be quiet for once in your life, Scaramouche.” You hissed, anxiously biting at your nails. “Sorry- I’m just trying to calm down, but my heart can’t stop racing.”

Scaramouche wasn’t the most in-touch person with his feelings, and out of all the harbingers, he was one of the more difficult ones to deal with.

Surprisingly, he had shut up, despite finding it difficult to hold his malicious comment back.

“What’s wrong?” Your lover asked, more softly this time.

“My mission today was... hard. I know you said it’s important for missions to just be a one and done; no hard feelings. And you know I’ve always been that way. But this one was different.” His eyebrows furrowed, his forehead creasing in annoyance.

“I can’t help but think about what they did.”

“Did you get what you went for? I heard you sought after information regarding that Knight, Aether.”

“Yes, but-”

“I’d call that a successful mission,” He stared intensely, casually moving to sit on the comfort of your bed. Of course, he wouldn’t take this seriously. “Any casualties?”

“None of our men, but-”

“I don’t see the problem.”

“There were children, three little children, and those idiots just slaughtered them.”

“Ah... I see.”

Despite stating he understood, he really couldn’t sympathize with what you were saying. Those children were enemies as long as they worked against The Tsaritsa.

Your voice suddenly cut through the silence, staring directly into his eyes, “What if those were our children?”

“They weren’t.” Your eyes rolled at his comment.

“But what if!” He rolled his eyes, mocking your previous action.

“But they weren’t.” He mocked for a second time.

“You’re not helping, Scaramouche!”

“You’ll never understand, unless you see what I saw,” He knew you were right to some degree, but even then would he feel bad? A mission was a mission after all.

“They were begging me to protect them, and the youngest, she would not let go of my arm and then the next thing I knew, they were dead.” You continued, left hand going to grip your right, he assumed to show him where and how the said girl had gripped you. You were still shaking, this time being closer, he noticed how bad it was.

“They were pleading, I told them I would try my best, and then-” He had long ago stood, making himself present in front of you. His warm hands had grabbed your shaking ones harshly, ceasing the trembling momentarily.

“Please, be quiet,” The sixth harbinger snipped. “I don’t like seeing you upset.” Although it sounded harsh, he was trying his best to make it sound how he felt, even if those feelings were minuscule towards this specific topic.

“Although, I don’t agree with you about this particular concern of yours- I will do whatever you need to help you.”

Albedo

now, he may just be an alchemist, but trust me, Albedo sees the signs before anyone, he has some sort of familiarity with them due to his incessant reading

and it may have taken him longer to see the signs because of how busy he was, but he saw them

he was no fool to the likes of insomnia, in fact he knew it very well, often staying up very late into the night and morning, sometimes for days at a time

he was cooped up in his lab and it wasn’t as if his body wasn’t tired, cause hell he was, there was just s much more to learn and discover, his brain WOULD not stop,

Albedo hadn’t known how long this had been going on for, but he was seeing signs now

ngl, he didn’t notice that you hadn’t been sleeping properly until one night he decided to accompany you in bed earlier than usual (It was three a.m, yikes), and found that you were awake still

you were lying still on your side of the bed, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that he reached over to kiss your cheek, only to see your eyes open, he would’ve assumed you were alright and asleep

“You’re awake?” The ashy-blonde man asked, sliding into bed next to you.

“Can’t sleep.” You shrugged nonchalantly, scooting closer to him, seeking his warmth and comfort.

“You should’ve come to get me, I would’ve come to bed earlier with you.”

“It’s alright, I peeked in to see if you were still alive,” You joked, he chuckled. “You seemed very busy.”

“Yes, but, I thought I told you to remind me when you need attention, I often get sidetracked and enamored with my work.”

“It’s quite alright, Albedo. As long as you’re sleeping.”

He hummed, whispering tired words of adoration in your ear. That carried on for a while, as long as talking about the day's work and whatnot, until you eventually questioned, “Can I play with your hair?” The gesture was sweet, and that did sound amazing right about now since he was on the brink of sleep, but just needed that little push. But weren’t you tired?

“Aren’t you tired?”

You sat up, climbing behind Albedo, gently placing his head in your lap. “I’ll go after you.” A soft smile adorned your beautiful face. “You need sleep, you stay up for Archon knows how long.”

He selfishly allowed his eyes to close and waited for sleep to accompany him while you began untangling his two braids and ponytail. You played with and braided his hair until he’d fallen asleep as you said. You stayed up the rest of the morning though.

Eventually, probably out of boredom, you fell asleep for an hour or two around five a.m. Though, unfortunately, you were back up before six. You busied yourself while Albedo slept, starting with cleaning his lab. Albedo often did not like people touching his books, paperwork, and findings, but after instructing you how to properly take care of his stuff, he welcomed your help with open arms, seeing as though his lab was ALWAYS in shambles from not having enough time to take care of things himself.

Albedo surprisingly woke up around nine, wavy hair surrounding him like a lion, you chuckled to yourself at the sight. “How did you sleep?”

“Alright, considering my sleep schedule is nonexistent a lot of the time.” You nodded, bumping shoulders teasingly. “How about you?”

“Okay,” You said, immediately changing the subject. “I woke up early, so I cleaned your lab, I hope it’s to your likings, Kreideprinz.” You teased, bowing at the waist.

The alchemist waved you off, with a smile. “We’ll see about your organizational skills after you eat.”

How had he known?

“You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” Albedo asked, heading in the direction of the kitchen.

“That obvious.” You wondered trailing after him.

“You always wait for me, darling.”

“You look exhausted.” Albedo’s concerned voice cut in through the smooth Mondstadt breeze. You had been so distracted with the discovery in front of you, you hadn’t realized your boyfriend was staring directly at you. “When was the last time you slept?” He glanced back down at the discovery, still listening, but if you didn’t speak soon he’d be lost in his world again.

“A day or two, but-” Albedo probably got whiplash from how hard he’d snapped his head to face you, but now he was staring at you with features reading nothing but shock, cerulean eyes blown wide.

“I think your bad sleeping schedule is contagious.” You joked, trying to make the situation lighter-hearted. He didn’t laugh.

Albedo was more serious this time, proving it when he faced you completely. “What’s been going on?” His voice was soft, but he was extremely worried.

Nervousness built up in his lover's body. “Nothing! I just-” You sighed. Might as well tell him the truth, he’d coerce the answer from you no matter what it took. “It’s been harder to sleep after my injury from that ruin guard. When it hit me, I banged my head against the concrete, and ever since I guess it’s been hard to sleep.”

“You could've told me sooner. I would have stopped everything and anything for you.” Yes, that was true, that was the problem though. You didn’t want to be coddled like a baby

“I know, I’m not sure why I didn’t... Naturally, I don’t want to worry you.”

He moved closer to you so he could cradle your face in his hands. “You can always tell me anything you know that.”

“I understand that. You’re a busy man so-”

“From this moment on, my work will be dedicated to finding a cure for you.”

You panicked, not wanting to stop his work for the likes of what you were dealing with. “What? Wait no-”

“You can’t stop me, darling. You take precedence over everything.”

Albedo made it his goal to do whatever possible to help you. Whether it be spending days in his lab making concoctions in hopes of creating something that could safely aid you with sleep. Or he’s in the libraries, reading all the books on the wellness and health of humans. He’s already on top of it the minute you expressed your concerns. In the meantime, he’s going to make sure he goes to bed with you much earlier, and won’t go until you do, to ensure you’re resting.

We love sweet caretaker Albedo.

(I understand insomnia can have other causes, not just a mental or nervous breakdown, but it’s kind of implied when reader hurt her head that she’s not well.)

Childe

Childe is simply not going to know your not well, he just won’t, it’s not that he doesn’t care, it’s more so the fact that he has a hard time paying attention to anything other than his missions and duties, he does not want to slow down

you have to show signs or tell him to realize

he decided to take a break though, seeing as he did promise you dinner tonight. he told you it would be his treat, since he did have a bunch of Mora lying around that he simply had no other use for

he figured a nice dinner and trip to one of the nicer cities with more to offer would be nice, he would buy you anything you desired

it was nearing the time for dinner though, and the reservations had already been made, so when he was left waiting, let's just say he was irked...

if you didn’t want to show up, you would’ve told him, so maybe you forgot? he concluded that couldn’t be it

the last time he’d brought it up, two days ago, you had been so excited you couldn’t sit still nor stop talking about it

asking a few people around town if you had been spotted anywhere, some said you had wandered off to Luhua Pool, something about there being a myth about special healing properties within the water

now he was even more confused

one, you NEVER went to Luhua Pool, there was never a need to do so

two, special healing properties? why would you need that? were you hurt in his absence?

you were his family, and he loved his family more than anything, so if something was wrong, he’d do whatever it took to help you

he traveled from Snezhnaya to Luhua Pool in record speed

he did find you eventually, the sun was setting, but thanks to the glowing water he could make your form out easily

you were hunched over, in what looked like to be some simple greenish cloth dress, he couldn’t see what you were doing, and called out your name

no answer

“Hey, what’re you doing here?” The orange-haired teen asked, crouching down beside his lover to see what was wrong.

“Cleaning.” You had said. That’s when his dull blue eyes traveled to what you were doing, watching with a confused stare as you scrubbed at what seemed to be clean hands.

“Hmm, I see...” He couldn’t tell if this was a prank or not, you usually played along with his teasing nature. “Are you ready for dinner?”

“Was that really today?” Your head lifted, leaving your hands to momentarily hanging in the air, water droplets dripping off into the pool.

Okay... so you did forget it seemed, which did shock him seeing as though you were over the moon, less than seventy-two hours ago.

“Uh, yeah, did you really forget? That’s unlike you! I’ve learned women don’t forget anything.” He teased, hand going to his chin. You hummed, turning back to do whatever it was you had been previously.

The harbinger frowned. “Do you still want to go? We can make it if we’re fast.” You sounded like a robot, much like a ruin guard, he concluded.

“I’m sorry, not today, I’m dirty...”

Childe couldn’t help but chuckle, “Dirty? Sweetheart, you’re cleaner than most people I’ve seen, what’re you on about-”

“The blood, it’s stained my hands, can’t you see?” Even after holding your hands to show him, he saw nothing resembling blood.

“Are you playing games with me? Sure, it would’ve been funny any other day, not today though-”

“You don’t believe me?” You sounded hurt, but whatever was going on, he wouldn’t feed into these... false hallucinations. “The townspeople said the same thing, they called me crazy...” You scrubbed even harder at your hands, letting out a frustrated huff.

“I don’t see anything, I’m really sorry,” He said gently, reaching into the water to grasp your warm hands in his, “But if you continue to do that...I will see the blood.”

Childe was not sure what was going on, maybe some sort of PTSD? Although, he wasn’t sure where it could’ve come from... you’re not a harbinger or fatui, or anyone that is engaged in battle, etc. so it didn’t make sense. Unless something happened that decided to resurface now.

He immediately took you home, hand in his to keep you from further scratching your hands. On the journey, you often asked, “Why are you even touching me? There’s a lot of blood.”

He didn’t want to have to feed into whatever was going on, worried he’d damage you somehow, and he didn’t want to make you sound crazy, so instead he said, “Because I love you.”

When you both arrived home, he’d immediately laid you in bed, saying you appeared tired before going to search for a doctor.

Child will see every and all doctors in Teyvat and will pay whatever amount necessary to figure out what’s wrong, that’s for sure. Doesn’t take orders from the harbingers (not like he was anyways) and opts to stay close to you at all times.

He decided to keep his teasing to a minimum, though he found that sometimes things slipped out accidentally, he’d do anything in his power to help you.

1.18.21, rayofsunas

#rayofsunas #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #albedo #albedo x reader #childe #childe x reader #tartagalia #xiao #xiao x reader

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babymetaldoll · 3 years

Text

Passive aggressive (Spencer Reid/Reader)

Requested: Yes!

Warnings: Cursing, a little angst, a lot of fluff. Spencer being an asshole.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Category: A little angst with a fluffy ending.

Summary: Spencer and his girlfriend don't know if they will survive their first fight.

Word count: 3.5 K

A/N: Hello my favorite people!! how are you doing? hope you are all safe! here's a little "angsty" request. I had to pick between Gubler and Spencer, but I think Spencer suits better for this request. Hope you like it!

Masterlist

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

When (Y/N) fell in love with Spencer Reid, she couldn't think of anything wrong about him. Sure, she knew the man had flaws, but honestly, none of those actually bothered her. Not his rambling, not his lack of social cues. Neither his previous trauma nor how he kept moving his hands as he spoke, and how it gradually increased when the subject was about something he loved.

She liked all those things about him.

Spencer ignored all the flaws people pointed out about (Y/N), 'cos he was in love with her. He didn't care that she had a hard time sharing her feelings and that he had to basically profile her to get to know what was, in fact, going on with her. He didn't care that she was a little bossy from time to time, 'cos he loved making her happy.

All those things he could deal with, 'cos he loved everything about her.

But people don't warn you when you are dating for a long while. All those little things that don't matter can turn into a bunch of flaws that start driving you nuts. And after eight-month dating, their perfect honeymoon was over. Spencer Reid and his girlfriend were about to get into their first official fight.

No one prepared them for it.

- "Spencer? Can you help me, please?"- (Y/N) was in his room, folding bed sheets and towels.

- "In a minute!"- Spencer replied and didn't take his eyes from the book he was reading.

- "You said that twenty minutes ago"- (Y/N) frowned and dropped the clean sheets on their bed- "Please, Spencer. I'm tired, and I wanna go to bed. I'd finish folding the clean clothes if you helped me."

- "In a minute."- Spencer repeated and didn't even pay much attention to his girlfriend's annoyed tone of voice until it was too late. She was standing right next to her in the living room.

- "Spencer! Please! Fucking help me now!"- he raised both eyebrows and stared back at her, her cheeks red in anger and her hands clenched into fists.

- "Why are you talking to me like that? I haven't raised my voice to you."

- "'Cos I'm fucking tired, and you've been relaxing here for over an hour, while I do everything in the house, and you don't cooperate!"

- "Excuse me?"- Spencer stood up and took a look around- "Who cooked dinner?"

- "You did! and did you do the dishes? And cleaned the kitchen afterward? 'cos as far as I remember seeing it, it's still a mess!"

- "I'm gonna do it in a minute!"

- "No, you won't! You always do this! You make a big mess, pretend you'll clean it in a minute, and then you just leave it there until I do it!"- Spencer frowned and looked at (Y/N)'s angry face.

- "No, I don't! If anything! I am the one cleaning all the messes you leave around here all the time!"

- "What?!"- (Y/N) shriek, feeling almost insulted- "Which messes are you talking about?"

- "Top of my mind, all the hair you left in the shower! It was fucking disgusting!"

- "What?!"

- "If maybe you used all the freaking bobby pins you keep leaving everywhere, maybe the shower drain wouldn't get blocked!"

- "I didn't block the drain!"

- "And by the way, I told you I was going to help you with laundry. You didn't wait for me to it with you."

- "If I wait for you to help me, I'll run out of clean clothe, and I'll have nothing to wear tomorrow for work."

- "You do have a lot of clean clothing at your apartment! Maybe if you spent some time there, you'd see it. But you are always here!"

(Y/N)'s heart dropped. Since they had started dating eight months ago, they had spent most of their time in Spencer's apartment. She never overanalyzed it. They just did. (Y/N) loved Spencer's apartment 'cos it felt like home, and he always made her feel welcome.

Clearly, Spencer didn't feel the same. Not anymore, at least.

- "Sorry for intruding on your space, Spencer. I just thought you liked having me here!"- (Y/N) whispered with anger, trying not to cry, as she gathered all her things and put on her shoes.

- "I love having you here, but it's my house, and I don't appreciate you bossing me around, telling me what to do, when to do it, and how to do it, all the fucking time!"

Spencer kind of yelled, still mad, and not seeing the painful look in his girlfriend's eyes.

- "Well, enjoy your space. I won't tell you what to do anymore!"- and after those words, (Y/N) stormed out of the apartment, and Spencer sighed, staring at the empty space around him.

How did things get so out of hand? He had no idea. He didn't mean to hurt her, but the truth was that she was smothering him with all the nagging about the housework she kept doing. He didn't want her to do all the chores alone. He just had his own way of doing things, and he hated the fact she was imposing hers.

Could it have been said in a better way?

Yes. But Spencer didn't see that at that minute. He didn't realize how much he had hurt her. Why? Spencer didn't mean wrong, but he had no idea how hurtful his words could be when he was angry. And that night, Spencer was beyond angry.

Now, what's worse than having your first awful fight with your boyfriend? Having your first fight with your boyfriend, seeing him the day after at work, and having to act like everything is ok, 'cos you gave Hotch, your unit chief, your word your relationship wasn't going to get in the way of your work.

Bullshit! Of course, it was going to get in the way. Hotch knew it, (Y/N) Knew it, Spencer knew it. But the three of them pretended they had no idea what was going to happen.

Hotch thought Spencer and (Y/N) were going to be a mature young couple, 'cos he could see how much they loved each other. They had been in love with each other for so long before actually doing something about their feelings. Hotch thought they were never going to have any kind of trouble or argument.

He was so wrong it hurt.

The following morning, (Y/N) walked into the bullpen holding a black cup of coffee and headed straight to her desk. She waved at Emily and JJ and sighed, relieved, when she noticed Spencer was in the kitchenette with Morgan. That gave her the chance to casually ignore him and wait a little before dealing with him.

The truth was, (Y/N) was scared after their fight. She had known Spencer for over seven years, and she knew he had been honest about everything he had told her the night before. Everything. Sure, he yelled and hurt her. He didn't sugar-coat anything when he was mad. But he wasn't lying, and that was scary.

(Y/N) also knew Spencer was very passive-aggressive when he was upset. That was why she knew she had to be the bigger person and avoid him as much as possible while they were at work. Because, whatever she could say about the subject, or related, was going to trigger Spencer.

She remembered when Spencer got mad at JJ when he found out Emily wasn't dead. Spencer was hurtful when he was angry, and you don't want to be the target of his anger.

Spencer reached his desk and noticed his girlfriend was sitting all alone, practically hiding underneath a pile of files. His heart ached, staring at her for a second, fighting back the impulse of walking over and kissing her.

How long since he had kissed her? 14 hours, 17 minutes, 22 seconds. And counting.

But no. Spencer wanted to make a point, and he was still mad. He didn't want to cave in and lose that argument. Yes, it was their first fight, but he wanted to make a point. He didn't want her to boss him around in his own place and change his schedules. He had his own way of doing things. Like Paula Anka and Sinatra said: I did it my way.

Spencer had no idea, but his silence was slowly breaking (Y/N)'s heart more and more. She looked at him for a second, but he paid her no attention. Maybe it was better that way, she thought. She could focus on all the work she had to do.

But no. Of course, it didn't help.

When Penelope walked over and announced they had a case, half the team had already realized there was something wrong with their love bird. Spencer hadn't walked over (Y/N) with her favorite pastry soon after her arrival. She hadn't kissed him good morning. He hadn't spent half of the time staring at her from his desk. If anything, they had been ignoring each other most of the day.

Emily, JJ, and Derek looked at each other when (Y/N) stood up and walked alone to the conference room. Spencer didn't follow, didn't hold her hand. Didn't even look at her. He just gathered his things, put them in his satchel, and waited for a few minutes before standing up, just to make sure he wasn't alone in the room with (Y/N).

It was crystal clear: things were not going right.

Spencer ignored (Y/N) during the briefing at the jet, and he was relieved Hotch had paired him with Emily. (Y/N) focused on the case, and she was also glad she didn't have to see Reid during part of the day. She had to go to the last murder scene with Derek. It was sad and disturbing, but directing her attention to the case gave her a break and even some peace of mind.

- "What happened between you and pretty Ricky?"- Morgan was driving the SUV, and (Y/N) kept her eyes glued to the window.

- "We had a little argue"- she whispered- "Thank you for making me realize we are not subtle."

- "You are not glued to each other. That's weird. I haven't seen you two apart since you joined the BAU."- Derek chuckled and looked at (Y/N). Her arms were crossed on her chest, and her eyes were teary.

- "Wait, pretty girl. It was just a silly argument, right?"- Derek didn't even consider the couple could break up. Ever. For Derek, his best friend and his girlfriend were it for each other.

- "I don't know. I know I have to give Spencer a little space to cool off, but the more I think about it, the worst it feels."

- "But, (Y/N). He loves you. You can't let that go."- she cut him a short smile and nodded.

- "I love him too. Sometimes you wonder if that's enough, though. Maybe it was better for us when we were platonic."

- "You can't be serious"- Morgan frowned, and (Y/N) just shrugged- "Spencer is crazy for you. No matter what he said, he loves you."

Morgan was right. Spencer loved (Y/N) more than he loved himself. But he wasn't ready to let that one argument go just yet. Besides, the doctor focused on work that week. That case occupied 99% of his mind during the next couple of days.

(Y/N) knew that's how he usually worked. And the frustration that the case caused them, plus the anger he still felt after their fight, didn't make a good person out of Spencer. If anything, he was looking for a reason to start an argument with pretty much everyone, especially with (Y/N).

- "We have to consider this unsub is not acting on a fantasy. He is looking for revenge, and he is escalating quickly."- Hotch said, going over the files again.

- "But if the murderer spends time with them in their houses and kills them with something they own, something that actually means something for them, I think we might be looking for a woman. This is too personal, and at the same time, it feels domestic"- (Y/N) analyzed, staring at the latest murderer's scene pictures.

- "Perhaps the Freds didn't help her fold the clean sheets."- Spencer whispered and shook his head. (Y/N) held her breath and stood up. She had to move away from Spencer to avoid answering that kind of comment.

Unlucky for her, Spencer wasn't close to being done. And for the rest of the night, he whispered hurtful comments and kept breaking her heart over and over again. (Y/N) knew Spencer was mad, but she didn't imagine how much. Maybe she had pushed him too hard. What if that was it? If that fight meant the end for them? She was actually scared to ask.

After catching the murderer and solving the case, (Y/N) sat on her own on the jet back home, hugging her legs on her seat. Emily looked at her from behind her book and decided her friend needed some love. She poured a cup of earl grey and walked to her with a warm smile.

- "You are my hero, Emily Prentiss."- (Y/N) whispered and held her cup.

- "Well, it comes with the job. I can read it all over your face: you need tea, a warm bath, and fix things with Reid."

(Y/N) closed her eyes and sighed. Spencer was at the other side of the jet, asleep. Or well, pretending to be asleep just to avoid talking to her. She knew it, and it didn't make her feel better at all.

- "I don't know what happened, Em. But I think this might be it" Prentiss wide opened her eyes at those words and held (Y/N)'s hand right away.

- "No way. He is crazy for you."

- "Yeah, it's funny 'cos Morgan said the same a few days ago. But after this week, I think I actually drive him crazy in a sick bad smothering way. I really think I fucked things up"- (Y/N) was fighting the tears back and looked over the window to avoid human contact, though Emily still held her hand.

- "(Y/N), you have to talk to him. He loves you. He is not good with social cues and facing people. You know that."

- "Yeah, I know. But I thought it was going to be different with me. It's me, it's him. This was supposed to work easily. I guess I was wrong".

- "Nothing worth doing comes easy, (Y/N)"- Prentiss whispered and squeezed her friend's hand- "Don't give up on Spence."

(Y/N) didn't want to give up. But she was scared Spencer had already decided. It looked that way after his cold and mean attitude those days. When the jet landed, she tried to walk to him and talk, but he avoided her and just left.

(Y/N) walked to her car and sat behind the steering wheel. Finally, alone after a rough couple of days, she burst into tears. She was scared and frustrated, and most of all, anxious to know what was going to happen. That was a terrible mix of feelings.

She knew that she didn't want to push Spencer to continue a relationship that might make him miserable. That's why, after taking a few minutes to calm herself down, she texted him.

- "I'm sorry things got till this point. I didn't mean to make you feel so bad. I understand if you want to break up. I'll pick up my things tomorrow."

Spencer felt his cellphone hum as he walked into his apartment, holding a box of tandoori chicken. He thought for a second it might be Hotch with another case, and sighed annoyed just at the thought of missing the chance to relax on his own again.

But when he read it, it was actually worse.

He left the food on the table and read the text over and over again.

What had he done? Why did (Y/N) think he wanted to break up with her? That wasn't his plan at all. He just wanted to prove a point. Not end with their relationship.

Did he push things too far?

Did he act like an asshole?

Did he ruin everything?

Spencer stared at his apartment, and his heart ached. He didn't care if (Y/N) changed everything around. He just wanted her there, with him. Always. He could do laundry whenever she wanted to. He could fold sheets whenever she asked him to. He could be as domestic as she wanted him to be if that meant that she would stay with him.

(Y/N) drove back home. She thought about getting something for dinner, but honestly, all she wanted was to get into her bed and try to sleep. Spencer didn't reply to her text, which somehow surprised her. A part of her was waiting for him to tell her he didn't want to break up. But that silence was the confirmation she didn't want to have: it was over.

The young agent did her best to remain calm as she drove back home. She didn't want to cry. She could listen to Spencer's voice at the back of her head giving her some statistics about people crushing their cars when they drove under emotional distress.

(Y/N) made it to her building, parked the car, and literally dragged herself upstairs. She was about to reach her apartment when she saw him. Spencer Reid, waiting for her, sitting on the floor, his back resting against her door. She froze for a few seconds, looking at him, confused. He stared back at her and held his breath. Her eyes were puffy and red, her face was pale, and yet, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever set eyes on.

- "(Y/N), I'm so sorry."- Spencer whispered and stood up. He walked to her and held her hands. She didn't follow, so she stayed in silence. Spencer lifted her hands until they reached his face and caressed himself with them carefully for a few seconds, tears falling from his eyes.

- "I'm so sorry, I was an asshole."- he murmured and kissed her hands over and over again as he sobbed.

- "Spencer..."- she whispered and stared at him confused- "I'm sorry."

- "No, I am. I was mean to you, and you didn't deserve it. You have to know how much I love you. How deeply in love I am with you. I love spending all my time with you. I don't want you to live twelve and a half blocks away from my apartment. I want you there all the time. Or I can be here all the time. I just... don't want to lose you."

- "I don't wanna lose you either"- (Y/N) managed to say- "I'm sorry I was so bossy and that I invaded your space."

- "No, I'm sorry I was an asshole and so passive-aggressive with you. I love you. I promise I will never act like that again"- Spencer hugged her and hid his face on the crook of her neck. (Y/N) hugged him too and breathed in his smell, feeling at home right away.

- "I missed you so much"- Spencer held her face with both hands and kissed her sweetly, rubbing his lips against her with such love and tenderness, (Y/N) felt her heart skipping a beat.

- "I missed you more"- she sighed into the kiss and held him closer.

- "I swear, I'm never going to hurt you again, buttercup."

- "I'm not going to nag you again. I don't care if you don't fold sheets, chipmunk"- (Y/N) smiled and rested her forehead against his for a moment.

- "You are doomed, (Y/N), 'cos I'm gonna do whatever you ask me to do from now on."- Spencer leaned in and kissed her again, feeling her smiling against his lips.

- "I just want you to be happy with me, Spencer"- she murmured- "I never want to make you feel like I'm invading your space or being bossy."

- "Then move in with me"- he said and smiled like a mad man- "I don't want it to be my apartment anymore. I want it to be ours. Let's find a place for the both of us, so we can make it our home."

(Y/N) stared into Spencer's eyes, and all she could read was his excitement and adoration. So she giggled and nodded.

- "Yes! I wanna have a home with you!"- she answered and nearly started jumping- "Come on, let's go inside so we can start looking for a new apartment. Or a house!"- her excitement was contagious, and it made SPencer chuckle.

- "Or we can have make-up sex first,"- he suggested, and (Y/N) dropped the keys she was holding. "Did you know when we argue, post-powerful hormones are released? The rush of adrenaline, noradrenaline, and testosterone triggers a state of extreme arousal. The perception of threat combined with the influence of the hormones on our brains is what takes us from seething with anger to seething with desire..."

- "I love it when you talk dirty to me, Spencer Walter Reid"- (Y/N) opened the door, and the couple rushed in. They hated to argue, but at least something god had come out of it.

------

Spencer Taglist

@calm-and-doctor @all-tings-diego

#spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fluff #babymetaldoll writes

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jangofctts · 4 years

Text

Sink Your Teeth In (Part 2 of Are You In Or Out?)

Rated: Explicit (Paz is in the next chapter DONT WORRY)

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, the cold?, reader is in PERIL YET AGAIN, vaginal fingering, oral female receiving, unprotected vaginal sex (wrap them schlongs yall), brief hand jobs, swearing, angst, very VERY light choking, din is a sub sorta?? bottom energy

Summary: Well. At least you aren't dead. After a solo hunt gone wrong, you’re dumped in a cave on Csilla. Hopefully someone finds you before you freeze to death.

a/n: hey…so uh. HOW ABOUT THAT EPISODE HUH?!? aheM anyway--yall I just wanna thank everyone first off for all the love and support!!! I see all of your comments and tags and AH IM SO LUCKY TO HAVE ALL OF YOU GUYS. ALSO SPECIAL SHOUTOUT TO @djxrxn THIS WOULDNT HAVE BEEN DONE WITHOUT YOU BB GORL

Well—

Here you are.

Taken by surprise by another bounty, further proving how irrevocably incompetent you are at this line of work. You blame the binders. An older, clunkier model—easy to pick if you’re clever enough and yes. Maybe you should’ve asked to borrow a carbonite chamber, but hey—where’s the fun in that?

Not much, as it so happens.

Your feet had been kicked up on the dashboard, dozing and unaware of the freed bounty creeping up behind the pilot’s seat. Something delightfully blunt smashed against your temple, jolting you into a brief conscious state where the only thing you could think before passing out again, was a resounding—

Oh, fuck me sideways with a fucking lightsaber—

The rest is hazy. A blur of colors and the fuzzy shapes of your bounty’s face sneering in amusement when she bound your wrists and ankles and left you in the cargo hold. Vaguely you recall your ship being commandeered, swung into an unidentified atmosphere and landing on said unknown planet Or planets. Planet hopping to cover up a trail.

The bitter cold, sharper than a needle through skin is what shook off the last dregs of unconsciousness. The bounty’s hand was hooked into the collar of your clothes, dragging your limp body through drifts of snow and ice. You would’ve fought back—should’ve even though each extremity felt like a numb block of lead. Not very useful in a fight…

Soon, the snow turned to mud and the mud to stone as a mouth of a cave slid over the impossibly blue sky. Dumped in a cave, and left to die—perfect way to bite the dust. Your bounty turned captor lands a sharp kick to your ribs, mouthing some curse in a language you don’t understand, and left without a second thought.

Seems about right. You have a knack for lying helpless and half dead in places you ought not to be in.

Two days and counting, you’ve been holed up in this blasted cave with no food, no supplies and no comlink. It’s going be a fucking chore to find you—nearly impossible. You’re lucky in that aspect you guess—you know enough bounty hunters to sniff out a a needle in a whole stack of needles, so all it is is a race of time against the elements and how long it takes for one of them to notice.

Aeris is no help. He left a day before you had—hired as personal protection for some syndicate leader halfway across the galaxy. Ives is in a similar boat, off-world and unavailable to drag your ass out of the hole you’ve dug. Which leaves…

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose between your forefinger and thumb. Anytime you even think of those two a migraine cumulates behind your eyes. It’s…it’s not like anything bad happened in the aftermath—there’s been no fallout or arguments with barbed words as weapons. It’s been quiet. Like stepping onto a sheet of cracked transparisteel in a library full of tight-lipped academics.

The questions lurk under the surface of every conversation and longing look cast your way. You’ll need to clarify and sort things out eventually, but fuck—it’s such a mess of frazzled heartstrings and fine strands of impossible thoughts that lead into an endless void of doubt. You’re shoving that emotional time bomb to the very back of your mind—everything is still so raw…

So you ran.

Picked up any and all jobs that the Guild provided just to escape the looming decision of confronting a certain pair of Mandalorians. That and with them having their own tasks to complete, it was rare to see them, let alone together in the past few weeks. A simple run in here and there in the halls of the Covert, but you were too busy to stop and chat—forced a chaotic schedule upon yourself as an excuse to avoid staying in once place at a time.

Coward.

The word knots in your stomach like gnarled tree roots escaping their prison of dark soil on untrodden land.

Maker—how did everything become so tangled?

You draw your knees up to your chest and release a long, drawn out exhale that echoes through the cave. You sniff and force the swell of tears that prick at your eyes away. You’re pretty sure they’ll freeze and you’re not hoping to find out.

The only good thing about being dropped on this Maker-forsaken, wasteland devoid of anything but snow, is the free ice for the nasty gash on your forehead. A nice little parting gift.

It’s shallow…you think—it stopped bleeding the night before and is now just a scabbed over, tender wound that throbs whenever you move your head too fast. Concussion maybe—a mild one.

Maker willing when someone finds your sorry ass they’ll have bacta. Or a blanket. Either would be peachy.

Sitting up with a wince, you shuffle to the mouth of the cave for the thousandth time and scour the skyline for a familiar ship. Or, any ship really. The only thing you do see is a lonesome wisp of cloud against the grayish blue sky much to your chagrin. You scowl and stalk back into your little hovel and slump back onto the ground.

The hours drag on, the watery light of the dying sun barely doing anything to warm you. Sulking is hardly what you should be doing—not great for the burdened mind and all that, but ah, it’s so fun to wallow in misery. You curl your knees up to your chest and you must slip into a doze because when you’re snapped back into the present, footsteps punch through the frozen tundra outside your cave.

Adrenaline crackles down your spine—the bounty changed her mind. Ultimately decided she’d be safer in the long run with you dead. Fine.

If this is where your grave is going to be, might as well get in one or two punches. What’s another black eye anyway?

A shadow flickers at the mouth of the cave, curling around the wall as she draws closer. A brown boot kicks through the snow and—

“Changed your mind? I—“

Your words die on your tongue as relief floods your veins. Din Djarin stands before you, a sight for sore eyes in these trying times.

Frost glitters on the burgundy chest plate, glinting in the dim sunlight that touches the mouth of the cave. A delicate feathering of the dainty crystals that no high end lace maker could ever hope to mimic curls up the front of Din’s visor and eats away at the edges of his cloak. His heavy step forward reverberates off the walls, some of that ease replaced by the prickle of dread. His silence is unnerving.

“Din,” you say again, just so he’ll say something. “I can—“

You move to stand, but he interrupts with a halting;

“Sit.”

Your mouth snaps shut and you drop back on the floor. This…is not good. His footsteps are heavy as he approaches you and every muscle in your frame tightens like a fist wrapping around your ribcage and squeezing. The precise edges of his helmet are not a forgiving sight and even when he kneels onto one knee you have to resist the natural urge to flinch. Like this, despite hunching over, Din is broad. All hard muscle and sinew amplified by the bulky layer of beskar.

Your tongue runs over the insides of your teeth as you track his hand that he thrusts foreword. You hiss and jerk away at the sudden needly pain when his gloved thumb finds the edges of your head wound. A low sound of disapproval filters out through the helmet in a low metallic buzz.

“You won’t need stitches,” he says. Din reaches into one of his various supply pouches and pulls out a tiny vile of bacta. He casually pulls off his right glove, unscrews the vile and smears the bacta over his thumb. This time you don’t make a sound, even though your nerves scream at the razor like sensation of his thumb working the bacta into the damaged flesh. He doesn’t ask how the injury happened and you don’t care to tell him. There’s a time and place for stories about battle scars and near misses—it’s much too fresh to be spoken of right now.

The brief torture finally ends after once last glance over for other presenting injuries. He finds none, replaces his glove and stands with a muted grunt. You know what’s next. You’d rather avoid it—you aren’t keen on the berating lectures—as deserved as they are.

“I found your ship on Sato 3,” Din begins with a growl. “Imagine my surprise when I found your bounty selling it for parts.”

Ah, there it is. You wince and study your fingernails. “Pile of junk anyway…”

“I thought you’d be smarter about these things,” he snarls, his sharp tone deadly enough to slice through bone. “Was the hole blown into your lung not enough for you?”

You swallow and bite your tongue.

The bristling Mandalorian, continues and jabs an orange tipped finger at you. “You are reckless.”

Your chest constricts as you look away, shame blooming in the pit of your stomach.This is a new facet of Din you’ve never encountered. You aren’t naïve—even the most docile of people can harbor a temper, you know that. And you know Din is by no means passive—he’s an elite warrior equipped with a small arsenal at his disposal. You don’t expect him to coddle you or treat you different than any other companion; but…but it’s hard not to take his ire to heart. Not when it’s the kind of anger that boils deep in your chest and erupts with molten streams that leaves scathing wounds and blistered feelings.

You chew your lip hard enough to taste blood and avoid his piercing gaze. You think if you do you might catch fire and burn to a crisp. “I’m sorry.”

The meek apology settles in the air like a heavy fog. Din’s anger still brews, looming and dark but he reigns in his temper and switches out the searing cadence of his words with chilly informality. You’re not sure which is worse.

“No more bounties.”

“What?” Your brows knit together. The fuck does he mean.

“No more hunts alone—“

You interrupt with a scoff. “You’re grounding me?”

He strides across the small space and plants himself on the opposing wall. “Until you’re competent enough, you have no business being out in the field. You might as well be bait at this point.”

“Competent.” You echo through clenched teeth.

His helmet dips, leveling a steady glare of indifference. “The Crest is a half cycle’s walk from here. In the morning I’m taking you back to Nevarro.”

“I’m not a child. You can’t just,” you throw your hands up in dismay, “ban me from bounty hunting.”

Din’s armor clinks together as he moves to sit. He rests one elbow on his propped up knee, extends his other and rolls his helmet to meet your eyes. “Your actions reflect the Covert now. We can’t risk discovery because of one stupid mistake or a careless loose end.”

That hadn’t even crossed your mind. Stars, you want to smack yourself. Your ship, as shitty as it was, hosted a good chunk of sensitive information, all encrypted and translated into binary. A mediocre slicer could hack through it in hours. Not exactly foolproof but hey, at least you had something. Good thing your bounty wasn’t in the market of selling stolen ships to the Empire.

“Din?”

The Mandalorian makes no noise of affirmation that he heard you. You sigh and take his silence as a go ahead and clear your throat. “How long was I gone for?”

Here, in the cave it’s been nearly three days, but the rest of it you’re not exactly sure. Hunting the bounty down took up at least a week or two and even longer to capture her and there’s no accounting for the time lost after your ship was commandeered. Your teeth roll over your bottom lip as you wait for him to respond.

“Almost two months.” He replies evenly. “Your transmissions were cut three weeks ago and I didn’t think anything of it. Comms are always patchy in Wild Space."

Leather creaks as his fist balls at his side. “You didn’t answer for days. Paz and I tracked the ship to Sato 3, but you weren’t there. Do you know how difficult it was to pick through all the planets recorded on your log?”

You blink and return to picking at your fingernails.

“You weren’t easy to find, I—“ He severs the rest of his sentence with a crackling sigh and tilts his head back. “You’re lucky.”

The hesitance lacing his words makes you bite your tongue, the snarky retort crumbling to ash in your mouth. Din doesn’t bother to filter his words—he’s blunt. Efficient and to the point when he does decide to speak. That…well that was different.

He was worried—

You rub at your cheek—numb with the cold and curl into yourself. Din was worried. Easily the most feared bounty hunter in the parsec, worried that he couldn’t find you.

A different cold—one that settles deep into the marrow of your bones and hugs your soul with a sheet of frost, makes a home in your heart. The severity of what could’ve happened replaces that sheen of hilarity and fuck. You were closer to freezing to death than Din finding you here—alone in some stupid kriffing cave.

Somehow the idea of that is worse than the brief brush of eternal slumber you had on Nar Shaddaa. Up to that point you expected to die young—no harm and no foul in it either. You had no attachments, no debt to pay—a drifter in an endless galaxy.

Now you’re here, buckling under the weight of mismanaged friendships and your uncanny skill at weaseling into any and all trouble.

Neither you or Din jump to fill the silence. The ashes of disaster settle in nicely with the frozen echo of an endless winter.

It’d been a couple hours shy from sunset when Din arrived, the sun providing weak light that hardly touched the mouth of the cave. Now as the shadows grow longer and with the temperature dropping, the two of you are swallowed up by the unyielding darkness of night.

Din shuffles and fishes out the solar light from his supply bag. It clicks on and warm, orange light illuminates the cave. It bounces off his beskar, fracturing the light like a million tiny suns in the tempered metal and in the impossibly dark visor. He looks up, and tosses the light over.

You catch it easily and despite the warmness of the light it emits, it offers no heat for your chilled fingers. You set it to the side and tuck your hands into your armpits.

By no means is the cave warm—the natural thermal vents kept the ground dry and free of the ice and snow that rages outside, but it doesn’t protect you from the occasion chilly draft that cuts through each layer you wear. Then again, you weren’t planning on taking an unexpected vacation on Csilla. No time to plan really.

You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest and cast a glance at your ever radiant ray of sunshine across from you.

He looks nice and cozy—leaned back against the cave wall, one leg crossed over the other while his hands sit intertwined just below his navel. The beskar must provide insulation—maybe a fancy heater in that bucket of his, or maybe he’s just too stubborn to show anything other than indifference.

Another bout of shivers tear through your frame and you’re certain Din can hear the enamel of your teeth clack together. You shove your hands deeper into your armpits and tuck your chin into your chest to preserve heat and pray that sleep isn’t far off—can’t be cold if you’re unconscious.

Metal scrapes over stone as Din readjusts himself and you can feel him looking at you. It’s not a terrible weight to bear; intense and analytic, sure and in the past it would’ve unnerved you. Now, instead of it feeling like he were peeling back each fibre of your soul each time he stares, it’s familiar. A pattern of sorts—

It happens each time Din wrestles with an uncertain question. He deals in absolutes, and it’s no surprise he rarely knows what to say to you.

“You’re shivering,” he states. You roll your eyes. “Are you cold?”

“Boiling, actually,” you snip. “Why else would I forget a jacket?”

A sharp hiss of air crackles through the vocoder. “Don’t get mouthy with me. It was a simple question.”

“Well—there’s not much to do about it,” you sneer, watching your breath condensate in the air. “I’m freezing, exhausted, and hungry.”

You know you’re being snide—but your nerves feel like they’ve been severed at the root with a dull vibroblade. You have neither the time nor energy to spare for simple questions. Din should understand that—seeing as he’s a man familiar with short temperament.

The space between you is ripe with crackling tension, and maybe—if you weren’t so fucking cold—you’d play the mediator. Thread stitches into the gash you both sliced into your friendship, as small it may be. You’ve lost friends over less—this could end up no different.

You sigh and turn your head. This is a problem for tomorrow.

Irritated and upset, you squeeze your eyes shut and chase after sleep. You slip in a doze faster than expected, any and all discomfort fading away a you toe the line between a deeper sleep and waking dreams. You think you imagined Din saying your name—Maker you can’t even escape him in your own fucking head—

It doesn’t end—like a nagging buzz that swells until it’s right near your ear. Spite spurs you to ignore It and exhaustion convinces you to drift further away. That is, until a hand, gentle and warm curls around your shoulder. You once again hear your name rumble low through Din’s helmet, but it’s much too difficult to open your eyes. Why can’t he leave you be? You barely feel the cold now…

“Stay awake.” Din sounds distant, in some other plane of existence despite the steady hold he has on your arm. “Maker—you’re colder than kriffing ice.”

“Go away,” you grumble through numb lips. Such a pest.

He’s talking—but the words don’t make sense. Muddled—split between that hazy line of dreaming and consciousness where you can’t decipher what’s real. His hands however—you can feel those plain as day. A bare palm cups your cheek—shreds through the layer of frost you’re positive has crystalized over your skin and rouses you to a more coherent level of presentness.

“Don’t quit on me yet—“

“Nah,” you mumble. “I’m hard to…to kill. L-like a scrap rat…”

Din grunts in response. “Rat is a compliment. You’re more of a spider-roach.”

The ends of your mouth quirk. It’s the best you can do—a full smile just might push you to the brink of death.

“C’mon—I won’t let either of us freeze,” Din sighs. His fingers find the magnetized latches on his cuirass and it slips off with practiced ease, the armored thigh plating following a moment later. He neatly sets it to the side and grabs his cloak to fasten it around you. With another sigh, Din shuffles in behind you and wraps an arm around your middle, nestling his legs and body snuggly around yours.

Maker—you don’t have time to bother about the intimacy of this because all you’re drawn to is the furnace like heat. Fuck, he’s so warm. You have only a second to enjoy it before your body begins to thaw—bringing forth waves of achey pain.

His chest molds to your back, both arms curling over your own arms that are scrunched up tight around your chest. You shake in his hold, vicious waves of cold clashing against his body heat—it hurts—like sticking your bare foot into hot coals.

You squirm, little gasps of discomfort slipping out that echo around the cave. Din shifts, tucking you further under his body until he’s nearly crushing you. It’s a bit tricky to breathe like this but hey—you’re not complaining. Not when your nose is buried in his soft undershirt that smells purely of Din.

Your fingers and toes still throb as they thaw, but it’s working. Cuddling Din Djarin to stave off hypothermia—sounds kriffing ridiculous.

“You’re still shivering,” he says. “I might…”

Your breath catches in your throat as he trails off. “Might what?”

Another shiver wracks through your body as his frosty helmet catches on bare skin when he dips his head in embarrassment. You don’t quite catch what he says and he doesn’t bother to clarify. “Forget it.”

You turn your head as much as you can, straining your eyes to meet the strip of visor. “Tell me.”

He mumbles under his breath again and cuddles closer, slotting his hips against your ass. “Might know…know another way to keep us warm…”

Oh.

A spark breathes to life in the pit of your tummy. You wiggle onto your back, your nose brushing the vizor. “Does it involve me taking off my pants?”

Din huffs, his hands, previously latched onto your hips, starting to crawl up your waist. “It could…”

You smirk and rock your hips back, eliciting a low growl that rumbles through his chest. With your whine of approval, Din’s hand slips between your legs and gives the meat of your inner thigh a squeeze. You let your knees fall open as far as they can in this position and it’s all Din needs to cup your cunt through the thin material of your trousers.

Crackling pleasure flood your veins as the heel of his palm grinds into your clit, and while the pressure is nice, it does nothing to satisfy. Only feeds the growing flames of desire with brittle kindling.

You pull at his undershirt and whimper, thrilled once his deft fingers, calloused and thick unlace your pants and yank far enough down to fit his hand. His fingers trace your outer lips, a ghost of a touch as arousal swells in your stomach. He parts your folds once your wetness begins to dribble out and coats his fingertips with your arousal.

Stars—you need him. You arch into him and whine. “Touch me. Din, please—“

You jerk as Din’s thumb swirls a slow circle over your clit, a rush of endorphins surging out like unrefined fire whiskey. Din’s head tilts to watch you writhe over his fingers and the sudden chill of his helmet touching the inside of your flushed neck steals away your next inhale. Goosebumps race down your entire being, adding to the influx of your excitement that pools in your lower belly.

Your hands tangle into his undershirt, pulling him closer until you can’t find where he begins and you end. His heart pounds in his chest, thrumming to the dance of your own heart that yearns to break free from your ribcage. Your breath catches when two of his thick fingers tease at your entrance. Your walls flutter around him as the slip in easily.

His fingers roll forward and stroke against something devastating inside of you, and he when his palm rolls back, it bumps against your clit with that divine firmness you need. Your cunt tightens around the two digits as they curl.

“Fuck. Can you hear yourself?” He pants, groping your breast to elicit a high pitched wail. “You always make—make such pretty noises.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his words and fuck. You’re already dipping head first into release. A moment later you’re arching into his chest as every muscle stiffens in a crescendo of bliss, your stuttered breathing harsh even to your own ears.

Your quick pants fog up his visor as Din rests the crown of his helmet on your forehead, the metal a cool relief to your flushed skin. He slips his fingers out of your dripping cunt, your chest still heaving with exertion as the last strands of your high fizzle and ebb away. Din shifts and and snakes his fingers, still shiny and wet with your arousal, beneath the lip of his helmet and sucks them clean with an appreciative groan.

“Fuck—“ You breathe, pushing your face into his hand as he cups your cheek. Din’s thumb brushes over your cheekbone and swings his leg over your hips to hoist himself over you.

“Do you remember...” He starts, his voice buzzing through the vocoder. His fingers tickle down your cheek and trace the parted outline of your lips. “When you let me taste you?”

You nod, and it’s all you’re able to do. You’re not even sure you can formulate words, let alone voice them right now.

Din’s thumb pulls at your plush bottom lip, and you can’t help but slide your tongue along the digit. He grunts and slips his thumb into the wet heat of your mouth. “I think about you every night…how you came on my tongue—”

Your stomach flips as a rush of arousal sweeps through your tummy. You groan and you’re half sure you’re gonna dissipate into the floor from how hot your cheeks burn. “Din—"

He continues without missing a beat.

“You were so fucking wet for me—dripped all over my hand,” he murmurs, nuzzling his helmet, still chilly and frosted over, into the crook of you neck. “I want to do it again—can I?”

You’re nodding before he even finishes his sentence. He wasn’t the only one longing for his head between your thighs on those long nights apart. Remembering those plush lips and addictive touches could only get you so far and well—he’s here now. You said it once and you’ll say it again—there’s no chance in hell you’d be passing up this opportunity.

Din lifts his head and as you watch the light glitter in the reflection of the beskar, a sudden stray thought ricochets into the forefront of your mind. “Din, the light—your helmet.”

He pauses, his body tensing as he mulls over his options. “It’s—I—it’s ok…It’ll be ok.”

Din inhales a stuttered breath and casts a brief glance over his shoulder. It’s a dim light, kicked into the corner and laying on its side. From this angle, his face would be partially obscured in shadow…but still. There are easier ways to go about this. Ways that don’t risk jeopardizing the very foundation of who he is—what he stands for and what he so devoutly follows.

To say you know anything about his religion is laughable. Everything you know can fit on the back of a thumbtack and even still, you’re sure that half of that is still based upon rumor and speculation. But this—what Din is hinting at, you know is not something to be taken lightly.

He’s stripping his soul bare for you—allowing you to glimpse at that bleeding heart of his he guards so securely within layers of flesh and bone and impenetrable beskar. Din is gifting you his trust and there’s no where else to put it except for the space beneath your breast bone.

Yet, even still—this could mean nothing at all. You have no way to know the exact magnitude of what this means to him. If he’s alright with this, who are you to question?

He mumbles one last thing about the light and sits up. Goosebumps rush up your bare skin at the loss of the heavy warmth of his body. You whine and curl up closer to his legs, greedy for any spare iota of heat like you’ve been denied it your entire life.

Maker you hate this fucking planet—

Your attention snaps back to Din when he makes a noise of uncertainty. His hands are cupped around his helmet—hesitant, nervous and you suspect if Din’s hands weren’t plastered so tight around the metal, he’d be shaking. You chew on your lip and prop yourself up.

Cautiously, so as not to startle, you reach up and curl your fingers around his wrist. You can feel his pulse thrumming through his veins—alive, flesh and bone like you. Not some heap of sentient metal built for the horrors of war. You don’t know why you do it—just seems right to pull the fragile and vulnerable skin of his inner wrist to you mouth. You plant a gentle kiss there and smile when he cups your cheek.

“You don’t owe me anything, Din,” you say, staring into the darkened depths of his visor. “Least of all this.”

Some of that tension held in Din’s shoulders melts. He utters something in that clipped language of his people, and the only thing you can make out is your name. He lurches foreword and fuck—you’re terrified for a split second he’s gonna cave your skull in but instead he lightly bumps the crown of his helmet over your forehead.

“I want to. For you—only you.”

Din doesn’t leave any time to unpack all of that. He sits up again, wraps his hands around the beskar—

The metallic thunk of the helmet reverberates through the cave like a crack of thunder.

You were right.

You can barely see his face—if you really look, you can see the murky outline of his nose, dark hair and a sliver of his tan skin that the light touches. Attractive—but you knew that already. You touch his cheek and smile, your thumb catching over wiry facial hair and soft skin. Din makes a sound low in his throat and pushes his cheek into your hand.

“I still want to taste you,” Din says, his voice richer when stripped of that tinny vocoder. You like listening to him speak without it, you think, and it’s a damn shame you never get to hear it. “Please.”

Before he can escape and fulfill that fantasy, you yank him into a blinding kiss. He kisses the same—all wild edges and with desperation lining each motion—but there’s a new found tenderness here. Like he’s savoring each gasp and every brush of skin you grace him with like it’s your last night left in the galaxy.

He breaks away from your mouth and peppers kisses and nips down your jaw, then lower as you arch and expose the bare skin of your throat. There’ll be a plethora of bruises tomorrow, and with no hope to cover them either but fuck it—Din can leave as many hickeys and teeth marks as he wants.

If not for the cold still latching onto your very soul, you’d ditch the shirt; give Din better access instead of him needing to shove a hand up under and grope at your breasts. He gives the fabric an annoyed tug, but it’s fruitless. There’s no use when there’s better things to be sought.

He shoves your shirt as far up as it goes, shivering as he mouths down your stomach, licks around your bellybutton and sucks a bruise onto your hipbone. Your pants are already pulled halfway down—one sharp yank and they’re around your ankles and off in the next breath.

Cupping your knees with both hands he gingerly spreads your legs and drapes them over his muscular shoulders. Din rubs his patchy haired cheek along your thigh and hooks his hands under your ass, his ivory white teeth catching the light as he smiles.

“Fucking perfect—“ He groans, planting his lips over your inner thigh. His tongue swipes a wet line up, stopping just before your aching cunt to dig his teeth into the sensitive flesh. You jump at the burst of pain and shoot a hand down, tangling your fingers into the soft curls atop his head.

Din grunts and jumps to your other thigh, leaving no inch of skin neglected and without evidence of his teeth and lips. By the time his thumbs touch the outer lips of your cunt, the aching need for him is burning you from the outside in. He has to still your twitching hips with a calloused palm, and only after you settle does he surge forward.

His tongue meets your swollen clit, ripping a tangled cry from you vocal cords. He’s just as eager as the first time he tasted you, if not more—every action backed by needy abandon. He sucks at the bundle of nerves then sweeps his tongue lower. Din’s thumbs part your lower lips as he runs his tongue though your soaked folds, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit that send delicious sparks throughout your whole body. Little noises and breathy gasps fill the cave, encouraging Din to push his tongue deep into your aching entrance.

Your hand fists into his hair as your hips stutter and rock into the searing heat of his mouth. The noises you make are obscene, and Din is no better. Each pass of his tongue over your pussy is matched with his own deep moans that vibrated against your clit. Fucking hell he’s devouring you alive.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, robs you blind and crashes over you in deep waves that drag you out to sea and never to be found again as you spill onto his greedy tongue. Your fingers are threaded tight in his hair as you squeak and press harder into his mouth, riding out your pleasure until it shifts and becomes raw and sore.

Din doesn’t pause for even a second—all too happy to stay put between your thighs for eternity. Your legs are trembling when you force his head away, a nice, tingly warmth settling into your limbs

A dark thrill rushes down your spine when he looks up, wild hair and mouth covered in your slick. If not for the low lighting you imagine his eyes would be glazed over and Maker you want him again. Din swoops down and presses his mouth to yours, the taste of yourself heavy on his tongue that slips past the seem of your lips.

You whine after he breaks away and sits up—an opportunity for your eyes to roam down his body. He’s still got his trousers on, a considerable bulge tenting the front. With a smirk you reach up and grab a handful, delighting in Din’s startled grunt. “Easy.”

You flash him a wry smile and give his clothed cock a playful squeeze. “Take them off.”

Din huffs and pulls at the drawstrings. “Needy.”

He says it with no bite and no coquettish retort on your end springs to mind—especially when his thumbs hook into the waistband and pull. A slow reveal of sun-kissed skin and a sparse happy trail that your eyes eagerly drink up.

Din’s cock bobs as his trousers fall around his knees, tip shiny and wet and curling towards his navel. You bite the inside of your cheek and reach out, a rush of arousal pulsing through your core at Din’s low moan. He’s heavy in your hand, deliciously thick and throbbing—and all of it for you.

Din gasps out your name as you lightly squeeze and stroke down, your pace dreadfully slow and teasing. Who knows when you’ll get another chance like this—a Mandalorian willingly on their knees for you.

Your other hand slips up his chest as you stroke him, intent on grabbing a handful of his thick hair that curls softly against the column of his neck. Your fingernail lightly scrapes across his nipple and he sways, pitching forward before he catches himself and straightens. Din’s eyes are squeezed tight, chest heaving with shallow pants as a smirk tugs at your lips.

“It’s ok, Din,” you whisper. “I won’t break.”

Your fingers twist into the hair at the base of his skull and guide him back. He slumps forward with a sweet moan, laying his weight onto your body that you’re all too happy too bare. His nose is nestled into the slope of your neck as his hands lock around the dip of your lower back while the other cradles the back of your head, drawing you into a loose semblance of a hug.

Something snaps and crumbles deep in your soul that bleeds the heartstring blues, humming with broken chords in the presence of Din’s soft fragility. Your hand moves from between his legs to instead wrap around the wide expanse of his back, squeezing him tight to your chest. You hold each other like there isn’t tomorrow to look forward to and you wonder if this is how it feels to fall apart. Two spinning halves of a supernova torn apart and destined to collide and shatter into a million fragments of dazzling light.

Yes, you’re scared he might blind you or burn you with his brilliance, but you can’t look away.

Your fingers crawl up his muscled thigh and settle on his hip. “Lie down for me?”

There’s no hint of hesitation or complaint as he maneuvers himself onto his back, patiently allowing you to clamber over his legs and straddle his hips. His cock rests on your inner thigh, pulsing and leaving a dribble of wetness every time it twitches.

“Good boy.” It’s subtle but it ripples out like a heavy stone thrown into a still lake. Din shudders and says your name in a cracked whisper. He rolls his hips, both of you groaning at the sensation of his cock running along your dripping center.

Another time for that game maybe.

Your desperation is running hot and wild to have him inside you and you know he’s in a similar boat. You grab the thick shaft of his cock and grind the tip of him through your lips, breath hitching when it extracts such a perfect moan from the man below you.

“Ride me,” he pleads, clamping his large hands over your hips. “Fuck—I need you.”

How can you deny such a request?

You line the wide head up with your aching center and slowly work him in. Shivers wrack through you, and Maker—he’s splitting you apart, molding your insides to the shape of him. Beads of sweat dot your hairline by the time you’re seated fully on his member, the both of you pushed even closer towards madness.

Din squeezes your ass and props his knees up, rolling his hips up into you. You whimper and tip forward, propping your palms over his chest as he sets the pace. You may be on top but there’s no changing the bold colors of power and lust that cloud his mind, fueling the brutal movements of fucking up into you. Your thighs burn already and Maker—why the fuck are you already tired? You’re not doing any of the work.

Quicker than lightning, Din curls forward and manhandles you onto your back. You squeak as he grips your thigh and yanks it around his narrow hips, thrusting in deeper. His right hand crawls up the front of your shirt and wraps his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. His thumb hovers over the dip at the base of your neck but he makes no move to press down—just allows the weight of his palm to do the work. And fuck—it works.

Choked garbles of his name pass through your lips as you buck and squirm in his hold, feeling your arousal begin to drip down the back of your thighs. You’re skirting the edge of sizzling release that alights your nerves with liquid wildfire. Your nails harpoon into the meat of his shoulders as your eyes squeeze shut. Din won’t allow it.

“Look at me,” Din snarls, yanking your head back by your hair. “I want to—to watch you cum for me.”

A blush scalds your cheeks but you listen. Your eyes flutter open for him, sliding to the dark shadows of his eyes that sweep you into their own gravity well with no hope to escape. You don’t mind.

“You’re so g-good for me—always so perfect.”

White hot light bursts behind your eyelids, and that’s all it takes. Your body seizes, your cunt squeezing impossibly tight around his cock as you cum. This one is different—steals your breath away and leaves you a broken husk of a person lost in most delectable forms of agony and pleasure. The cry of his name pierces the air only spurring the Mandalorian into a jarring pace to seek his own peak of ecstasy.

Din’s nose nuzzles into your neck, his pants hot and sharp against your flushed skin. “You f-feel so—fuck. Say—say my name.”

You leap to his request and with a playful nip to his earlobe, you whisper it to him with the sweetness of starcherrries and the promise of better things.

He tips over the edge, his hips faltering into no discernible pace as he cums. Din buries his teeth into the skin below your jaw, a mess of whines and begging gasps of nonsense as he fills your cunt to the brim.

Your harsh breathing mingles as you both lazily slip down from your high. He rests his head over your sternum, listening to your beating heart that drums in a wild staccato as your fingers carefully comb through his hair. If not for the ache in your hips you’d keep him here forever. Din pulls out and you both groan at the loss.

He doesn’t completely move away and you’re glad for it. He brushes his knuckles down the expanse of your cheek and dots a tender kiss to your hairline. Your name rumbles low in his throat as he shifts lower and gives your ear lobe a playful nip. His stubble scrapes along your neck, and you can’t help but giggle and squirm—but the weight of his body keeps you pinned. Your name slips from his lips a second time, breathy and drawn out in a sweet sigh, like he’s savoring the sound of each syllable and roll of the tongue.

Din lifts his head, only slightly—near enough that his nose bumps into yours and his lips scrape along yours that are still parted and wet. “I—can I tell you something?”

You cup his cheek and steal a kiss. It’s supposed to be quick—but instead he leans into it, guiding your mouth into a slow dance of sticky sweet movements that are caught in a slow draw, like crystalized honey abandoned in a glass jar. You’re enraptured by his touch—his skin mottled with scars yet somehow still unfairly soft. He smells of snow—like metal and soap and something gentler, that’s uniquely Din.

Fuck—you can feel your mind slipping away, wrapped up so snugly in his presence you almost forget to answer. “Yeah—anything.”

Crackling static suddenly rips through the cave, startling you both. A distorted voice chatters on the comlink that lies forgotten beside your pants. It blinks and the transmission ends just as abruptly. With a sigh Din brushes it off and tilts his head to tempt you into another kiss but—

Whoever’s trying to patch through is persistent.

His lip curls in a scowl and snatches the comm. “Jorhaa’ir.”

You only catch your name being mentioned twice as rapid Mando’a is exchanged. Aeris maybe judging by the tone, but no that’s not right.

“Wait—is that Paz?”

The muscles in Din’s shoulders tense, confirming your suspicion.

“Is everything ok?” Din doesn’t resist you when you pry the comlink out of his fingers and patch in. “Paz?”

Your heart skips a beat.

“There you are,” the comlink crackles and you smile. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

Stars—you didn’t think you’d miss hearing Paz’s voice. Your chest aches.

The conversation is short, he asks you how you are and when you’re coming home and in the time it takes to answer, Din is peeling himself from your body. While you're distracted, he pulls on his pants and sits at the edges of your vision.

You both pretend when you say goodnight to Paz, return the comlink and crawl into his arms that nothing has festered with savage detachment. You don't remember to ask him what he was going to say and he lets you forget. The golden heart that bleeds molten ichor slips from your sight and becomes shut behind walls of beskar and bushes of thick thorns and overgrown ivy.

He still holds you, but it’s the coldest you’ve ever been.

Tag List: @teaofpeach @corrupt-fvcker @nelba @datmando @ben-is-a-hoe @dreams-like-clockwork @aeryns-library @auty-ren @huliabitch @anxiety-riddled-mando @phoenixhalliwell @cptnbvcks @thesoftdumbass @krissology @starlite41 @legally-a-bastard @basslinedweller @cloud-of-roses @elenamiria @goldafterglow @maybege @equalstrashflavoredtrash @wandxrlust @hdlynnslibrary @calamity-queen @sgtbookybarnes @pinkninja190 @lackofhonor @darthstyles @spacegayofficial @absurdthirst @blue-writes-a03 @max--phillips

#din is a certified bottom #ANYWAY welcome to pound town #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader x paz vizla #paz vizla x reader #paz vizla x you #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #star wars #sw #fanfiction #sw fanfiction #my writing #are you in or out?

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drabbles-of-writing · 4 years

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In their wildest dreams, Viney and Jerbo never imagined the chaotic family they would marry into- much less becoming in-laws with each other. Em and Ed basically disowned their high-society family to be with them, and while they don't mind Luz's brand of quirky, it doesn't change the fact that they become in-laws with her and the wild Owl House gang too by extension when she marries Amity.

tyrksebsegr your right that has to be the WEIRDEST thing to have happened to them.

Can you imagine becoming in-laws with one of your best friends + that chill underclassmen??? Because you’re both somehow lucky enough to score a BLIGHT? One of the richest and most powerful families on the Isles?? When they realize it they gonna sit there like What. Gonna be honest, a part of me REALLY wants to give the Blight’s a pet thats like...a carbuncle, a chill orthrus, or a salawa bc like...Barcus my man.

Viney comes from a Very Very poor family of just her & her dad, so when her dad hears that she’s dating and later marrying The rich girl, and enjoys her company, he’s hearing church choirs this man was Blessed.

They don’t MIND being technical siblings-in-law, they practically already were siblings bc that’s how friends be but now it’s like Official and they are Thrown.

All the Blight siblings each had their own trust fund, so when they approaching The End they sort of just,,,,sneak in, steal the password to it, change the password so now it’s only there’s, and DIP. Just one trust fund is more than enough to support a single Blight, so while they’re not as rich as their parents, they got quite a bit of money to support themselves while they get real jobs and don’t gotta focus on the rebellion anymore. Jerbo & Viney’s families are like “oh damn. we rich now?” while Luz doesn’t even Realize until Amity points it out herself.

Jerbo was 100% READY to take Edric’s last name and lowkey flaunt a lil bit because he Like That and his moms were chill with it too but then Edric slides in like “actually I wanna piss off my mom and also I hate my last name can I have yours” and Jerbo, very touched and also realizing this technically means he’s got the sort-of-rich family name now, is very much down for it. Viney was surprised to hear Emira would legitimately want her last name. Yes she knows Emira couldn’t care less how rich her family is, but Viney’s family is still, like, the bottom of the barrel. You sure you don’t want to like, combine the last names or something? But nope, she wants to rid herself of the Blight name completely, so Viney’s chill with it. Luz & Amity have like No arguing over it Luz is thrilled for Amity to have her last name.

Jerbo & Viney are expecting like, a Tiny Peaceful fam because they know the twins ditched their parents and that they know the people of the Owl House, but they’re more like Amity’s thing, you know? MAN they were wrong. Amity is Really close with everyone in the Owl House, and the twins are Really close with Amity. Therefore, everyone deals with each other on a constant basis and now these two nerds are wrapped up in the middle of it.

Eda got sent to a Big Jail again? Welp, let’s call who wants to deal with this bs today. Hey, you two up for a prison break? Councilman is giving Luz flak? Lilith is organizing the most petty and passive-aggressive way to tell him to Back The Hell Up, you want in? Gus, somehow, got caught by police in the human realm and we need people to help bail him out, Please For The Love Of God Help Us. King got stuck in a trashcan again, look at the picture we took lmao.

Neither of them are used to a family of this Size or this Disastrous. So once they’re thrust right into the thick of it they’re getting dragged along for every little adventure until they realize “oh wait we like Don’t have to go on every single one” and then they chill a bit more. Yeah they’ll join every now and again but they also want to Function In Everyday Life.

They have many feelings about everything all the time. Everyone in this family is famous in some way, good or bad. So it’s not a huge surprise when they check the crystal ball and see someone they know being featured prominently.

Edric & Emira get quite a bit famous because of the whole rebellion thing, but it’s sort of a fun public-mystery about their spouses. Jerbo absolutely Cannot handle attention. Viney can deal with it better but will avoid the press if she can, simply because she doesn’t want to. So you’ve got two rebellion celebrities (who still have minor crimes in petty theft) with very little information on the people they’re married to. Viney and Jerbo actually find it really funny because somehow they became famous for not being famous.

Viney and Jerbo get shoved WAY more into the family, and nowadays Eda will wake up one day and find anywhere between 2 to 12 people hanging out in her house. She’s too tired to do anything about it now so she doesn’t even bat an eye.

It takes a while for the two to get used to being able to casually walk in uninvited and have it be a normal thing.

Takes a while for them to get used to a LOT of things but aaaaaaaaaaaaa I have so much to say about this but I’ll stop it at here.

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new-lorien-artist · 2 years

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If you had to pick one canon human Garde and have one of the OG Garde be the designated mentor for them, which human Garde would go with which OG?

I don't know what you mean by canon human Garde, since I don't think I've heard of any headcanoned ones (or publicly released human garde OCs, though that'd be kinda cool), so I'm gonna assume you're sticking to the ones that have been named in the series, since there's tooons of Human Garde who are left unnamed.

Here's what I think so far:

John - mentors Duanphen

I'm not a hundred percent sure how this would happen but for now it's hypothetical. I don't know the extent of Duanphen's Legacy outside of what we've seen her do, but John could be someone who can help figure that out. From his experience with Ximic, he's learned how to observe and utilize Legacies, acquiring them when the situation calls for more than one person who has a specific Legacy, and combining them with other powers to gain a unique upper hand. He could work with Duanphen to test how she can fare with fighting other Legacies or scenarios, such as fighting in the air or underwater, battling against long ranged Legacies or invisibility, facing combat with one Legacy or multiple at once, making her change her strategies and fighting style to adapt to the situation. I imagine most of their mentorship is going off of technical skill and bringing out the most in Duanphen, most of their conversation being about this rather than personal grievances or casual conversation, at least at first.

Six - mentors Nemo

From what we know in the novellas, Six and Nemo are on a pretty similar wavelength. They're both greatly determined and stubborn, look after their friends, do everything they can to fix things if something goes wrong, and can be depended on. I would imagine most of their training would reflect Katarina's training methods with Six growing up, learning how to fight hand-to-hand combat, to be agile and reactive, and to look for signs of company when it seems you're alone. Maybe something like Six turning invisible and making Nemo track her through her own senses, and to spot her with telekinesis. Maybe they'd also have a swim competition for fun, to see who's the better one.

Marina - mentors Rabiya

Marina has primarily used her healing on the battlefield until Glacen came in, and has rarely used her Legacies as a combative aid since there weren't many situations that called for her abilities, so one of her most experienced challenges was using a supportive Legacy and how. Rabiya's Loralite Generation, much like healing, costs time and energy and leaves her vulnerable because of how much focus she needs, so she'd have to learn how to defend herself, and how to locate, if not create, a safe hidden area where she can use her Legacy with minimal dangers. So Marina can train her in focus, strengthening, endurance (bigger Loralite crystals), self-defense, and being constantly aware of her surroundings for places to escape to or people who are around her, as well as stalling the enemy and keeping them distracted. Both Marina and Rabiya have a side to them where they try to end things as passively as possible, but still holding firm to their ground and taking action when they need to, so there's a wavelength between them that's like do no harm but take no shit.

Nine - mentors Kopano

Nine already has a good relationship with the Fugitive Six, and has worked one-on-one with Kopano, figuring out his Legacy and training him like crazy. Nine knows how to utilize non-offensive Legacies and turn them into offensive by knowing his surroundings and getting creative with the extent of his powers, which Kopano has also proven to make the most of when exerting Pondus in daily life and in battle. Kopano's also a very ecstatic and positive person who Nine can keep up with, actively engaging in his ideas for being this cool super powered Garde who can save the world, but also keep him level-headed and remind him the stakes and trials of being a hero, how it's more back breaking responsibility that can and will injure you. Sort of a humbling experience, but not said in a discouraging manner, because they both agree Legacies are super cool to have.

Ella - mentors Simon

They both share Legacies that are mental based, Simon able to transfer knowledge and Ella capable of telepathy, precognition, the like. Ella's had her share of intense training and exercise in the past, and could fulfill that with Simon, out of the need to be able to fight even if their Legacies don't make that necessary. I can't think of many ways this mentorship can train Simon. Probably learning to observe and hold onto key information to relay back, keeping his thoughts on track to avoid slipping other information (in Gen One he accidentally transferred a bed wetting incident to Isabela since he had drunken too much water at the time). I'm.. not super sure who Ella can mentor, though I've gone through a couple other ideas (Ella mentoring Nigel, which I mainly think is funny but probably has potential).

And, if you want to include Five in this, then

Five - mentors Miki

Yeah, this would be an interesting team up. They're both very well trained in their powers because of those who helped them develop their Legacies, Five with the Mogadorians and Miki with the Foundation. Their Legacies are similar to each other's and copy an almost identical list of advantages (good for spying and hiding from trouble quickly). I just wonder what their dynamic would be like, reflecting their past choices, what that god them into, and their resolve and direction for future paths. Five is very adamant on his position to dismantle organizations that puppeteer Human Garde, which Miki had been involved in and wanted out of it. Not much I can imagine they would get into when teamed up together, but it's a thought.

#you ask i answer #lorien legacies #lorien legacies reborn #loric garde #human garde #sorry this took so long i kind of struggled figuring this one out #i do really want to see the dynamics of above play out because some of them i sat down thinking on them and figured #they would be very cool or very very funny #ella mentoring anyone i imagine to be mostly funny because of her foresight and just being chill about everything

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stevenuniversallyreviews · 4 years

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I don’t need you to respect me, I respect me

I’m gonna miss writing about Amethyst.

As the most sisterly Crystal Gem, a firebrand in the new role of middle child after spending millennia as the baby of the group, Amethyst’s story is about growing from a wild teen to a responsible adult. Like Steven, she feels the need to prove that she’s a Crystal Gem too, but unlike Steven, she already is a Crystal Gem, so she carries a different kind of resentment as she continues to be treated like a child. It’s made even worse by her warrior instincts clashing with her small frame: she lives with the constant anxiety that she’s a mistake, a Gem who came out wrong and doesn’t belong in her family, so she comforts and distracts herself with hedonism and shapeshifting. Her problem goes beyond not feeling respected: deep down, she fears that she doesn’t deserve respect.

But she changes her mind.

“This isn’t normal.”

The Return and Jailbreak culminated the first act of Steven Universe, giving our characters subtle achievements (Amethyst and Pearl casually fuse into Opal, Greg reveals a deeper understanding of the Gems than we once thought, Beach City comes together as a community when Steven is in danger) and huge changes (Steven summons a massive shield, Garnet’s status as a fusion is confirmed, Lapis goes from prisoner to imprisoner). While not an official finale, Beta and Earthlings culminated the second act, narrowing the focus to five characters as they each reach one milestone or another: Lapis and Amethyst find a level of peace, Peridot defends her new home, Jasper succumbs to corruption, and Steven helps his friends but fails to help his enemy.

In a way, Change Your Mind culminates the third act with an even narrower focus. Sure, it gives big moments to a ton of characters (there’s fanservice galore, and we see the three Diamonds in particular take enormous steps), but we zero in on Steven in the same way the entire act has zeroed in on Steven, because this is a story about identity. It isn’t only about who he is, but who he wants to be moving forward, and fusing all the insights he’s learned from his human family, his Crystal Gem family, and his Diamond family into a song that encapsulates his growth over the course of the series.

We start in the most lifelike of the Diamond dreams, so real that Steven still sees himself as Steven rather than embodying Pink. Once again, this connection emerges from sleeping in a location where Pink once dwelled, but while he wasn’t feeling her impatience and rage in Jungle Moon, nor her hardening resolve in Can’t Go Back, nor her whimsy in Familiar, this time they share the same headspace when they’re both locked in a tower.

Considering how bombastic things get in this episode, I love how low-key this final dream remains until White Diamond interferes. We’re as lost as Steven at first, worrying about Connie and baffled at Blue’s recognizable mood but incongruous accusations, but as the truth becomes clear, he transforms into Pink off-screen without any fanfare, both in body and in mind: Steven isn’t questioning Blue’s warning about Pink Pearl, Pink Diamond is apologizing for her own behavior in Zach Callison’s voice. Still, looking down jolts him out of it, and after seeing the Crystal Gems poofed at the ball for a more definitive Steven memory, we cycle in Rose’s horror at her family launching a final attack on Earth. The rapid-fire identity shifts that follow inspired the most haunting piece of promo art for the episode, drawn by Rebecca Sugar herself, but I didn’t wanna display it without a seizure warning.

It’s excellent exposition, hitting the highlights of the Diamonds’ many wrongs and establishing Steven’s fraying sense of self in a way that’s both artful and brief; it’s important to remind younger viewers about the stakes, but Change Your Mind doesn’t pretend that anyone should be watching this episode without context, so it doesn’t prioritize thorough explanation. And despite how frightening the nightmare becomes, Steven gains a new sense of clarity after seeing the pattern laid out in front of him. The Diamonds are hurting him in the same way they hurt his mother, and if he’s going to help everyone, he needs to help himself.

When Blue Diamond returns to the tower in modern day, Steven isn’t afraid, and he isn’t alone. The first of many puns riddling the finale emerges (“Déjà Blue!”) before Connie proves why she’s the perfect partner for our hero, platonic or otherwise. He’s terrible at confronting the people that hurt him—this would require him to acknowledge he’s hurt in the first place, which he’s also terrible at—but if she was comfortable enough with confrontation to call out her best friend when he wrongs her, Blue Diamond doesn’t stand a chance. Connie comes out swinging, loading the bases with candor and sass despite Blue’s confusion over why a human even gets an opinion about this stuff, which makes Steven’s refusal to apologize hit the Diamond like a grand slam.

I love that Steven’s flat “no” takes Connie by surprise as well as Blue, because yeah, it’s uncharacteristically blunt for someone who’s spent his entire trip to Homeworld bending over backwards like he usually does to accommodate others. When he doubles down by explaining that he isn’t sorry about creating a show that celebrates queer characters whoops sorry I mean fusion, Callison makes it sound like the most obvious thing in the world, and this is what upsets Blue enough to inflict her tears on him. We’ll learn even more about Pink’s temper in Steven Universe Future, but the simple act of not bowing to authority makes Steven “worse than ever” in Blue’s mind: violence is more acceptable than insubordination. (Also, violence in cartoons is more acceptable than queer folks just sorta existing in cartoons, but that’s neither here nor there.)

Change Your Mind is about combating bigotry and cycles of abuse, and Blue is the obvious first test. She’s a bigot who doesn’t think she’s a bigot (compared to Yellow, who doesn’t care that she’s a bigot, and White, who’s quite proud of being a bigot). She passively perpetuates a toxic status quo (compared to Yellow, who actively perpetuates it, and White, who established it in the first place). It makes sense that she’s the first of the remaining Diamonds to change her mind, because all it takes for her to realize that something is wrong is thinking about it a little harder.

This doesn’t let her off the hook, of course: Blue’s sloth—the sin, not the animal—might not look flashy next to Yellow’s wrath or White’s pride or Pink’s envy, but she still chose to do nothing for thousands of years rather than contemplate how her actions and her society might have wronged Pink. If it was this easy for Blue to realize she was hurting Pink, it makes it that much more of an issue that it took her this long to figure it out. Unintentional bigots might be the “best” option by default, but they can be just as harmful as intentional bigots, and there’s a special sort of damage that can come from an oppressor who truly believes themselves an ally.

That said, while it’s important to acknowledge her blame (emphasized here when she only stops attacking Steven when he calls her out rather than the Diamonds in general), Blue is also a victim. She’s one of the most powerful beings on Homeworld, but she’s still trapped by White Diamond, and resorts to putting others down as a means of reclaiming a sense of that power. In the same way oppressed people often turn to sexism and racism and homophobia to make themselves feel bigger, Blue (and Yellow) reinforce White’s sweeping bigotry in the same way they echo her family-specific abuse. It’s not a good coping mechanism, in this show or in the real world, but understanding the problem is key to fixing it.

So it still feels like a victory when Blue turns, even though it should’ve happened ages ago, and even though she’s a tyrant. She isn’t just deciding to help Steven, she’s breaking out of that cycle in a way that allows for growth beyond our hero’s immediate concerns. Lisa Hannigan captures this transformation beautifully, shifting from manipulative whining about Pink’s behavior to a crushing realization that she’s the one who’s wrong. And even as she joins Steven’s side, she remains weighed down by her longstanding prejudice: Hannigan stutters as she refers to the Crystal Gems as his family, and her triumphant defense of Steven’s name to Yellow comes with the caveat that she’s still misgendering him.

But before we get to Yellow, we take a pit stop that grounds us back to Steven and Connie’s hunger. It may seem small, but this is a critical moment in establishing Steven’s humanity in a way the show has quietly done from day one: with food.

The very first scene of Steven Universe establishes our hero’s human half in a donut shop, upset about dessert. From there, the next five episodes drill in that Steven will take a unique approach to his magical Gem heritage, and they all involve food in a major way: Cookie Cats, then his father’s saying about pork chops and hot dogs, then the Cheeseburger Backpack (important enough to be the episode’s name), then the Together Breakfast (ditto), then creating a monster based on fries.

It’s not just Steven, either. The first few Connie episodes involve eating and drinking in ways that show hints of growth (worrying about trans fats, then sneaking food into movie theaters) and mark key moments in her life (sharing a juicebox, taking her parents to dinner). Lars’s development is tied with his love of baking, and on top of him and Sadie working at the Big Donut, the Frymans and the Pizzas are so tied to their food service jobs that it’s in their names. And speaking of names, we’ve got Vidalia calling her sons Sour Cream and Onion. It even extends to the Gems: Amethyst’s connection with Earth means she loves food, and Pearl’s greater distance from humanity means she can’t stomach it.

Food is fundamentally something that humans require and Gems don’t, and just like we saw in Lars’s Head, Steven’s physical body forces him to think about his own needs despite his usual focus on others. Both his humanity and his ability to stand up for himself are key to his eventual victory, and what could’ve been a generic transition between Blue and Yellow’s big scenes instead becomes a quiet Steven scene. Steven changing into his usual clothes (including his mom’s star) and Connie changing into her own outfit (including her dad’s jacket) is the perfect finishing touch before we dive back into the drama.

True to their natures, Yellow Diamond gets a starker introduction than Blue’s dream sequence: as the lights burst on, we get two shots focusing on a horrifying number of mutated Gem Shards floating around in the room, then the Crystal Gems’ thankfully intact gems in one big bubble, before panning down to the villain who caused all this pain. The menace is palpable before she even opens her mouth, but Patti LuPone’s low tone keeps the mood from boiling over just long enough that when she loses her cool, it hits like a freight train.

Blue’s passive bigotry endured because she lacked introspection, but Yellow’s active bigotry requires constantly justifying actions she knows are cruel by presenting it as a matter of superior reasoning. We’ve known from her first appearance that Yellow’s seething fury undermines her reputation for cold logic, and now more than ever the connection between her behavior and that of “sophisticated” bigots is clear. You know the type: openly, smugly hateful, but couching their hate as something derived from some deep knowledge about the subject, whether in religious convictions or whatever “science” they can scrape together to confirm their worldview.

Sure enough, even in her rage, Yellow lays down what she sees as a rational explanation for why it was okay to mistreat Pink, and why it’s okay that they themselves are mistreated: if they make exceptions for anyone, even other Diamonds, they must make exceptions for everyone, and chaos reigns. Besides the slippery slope being a fallacy, her argument is punctured by Connie’s second big retort of the night, pointing out that this extreme conclusion of Homeworld Gems living free actually sounds pretty nice. But you can’t force this type of bigot to change their mind through reason; if such a person was actually interested in logical worldviews, they wouldn’t have become a bigot in the first place. You need to change their heart.

Fortunately, emotions are Blue’s domain, so she’s just the person to help. Unfortunately, in the same way she still can’t get Steven’s pronouns right, Blue lacks experience with healthy communication, and strikes a first blow against Yellow on instinct. The ensuing brawl is brutal, switching between the massive scale of two warring titans and the smaller scale of Steven and Connie scrambling to save the Crystal Gems as Blue and Yellow unload millennia of baggage on each other. It’s so important that Blue is the physical instigator here, as it fuels Yellow’s white-hot self-righteous streak like nothing else, and it keeps the fight from being one-sided all the way through: Yellow pretty much needs to be the one dealing the final blow for the scene to stick, so it gets balanced out by Blue’s opening punch.

Blue uses her powers on Yellow, and Yellow uses her powers on Blue, but Steven’s power is talking. So just like with Blue’s conversion, Connie gets the opening words while Steven gets the finisher. When he finally gets her attention after being ignored throughout the scene, he makes Yellow listen to him by using the same food-based expression I mentioned from all the way back in Laser Light Cannon. It’d pack a bigger punch if Greg said “If every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have hot dogs” at literally any other point in the show, but it still does the trick.

Blue was emotionally ready to accept that Pink was suffering, but hadn’t considered the Diamonds’ role in that suffering. Yellow knew that Pink suffered thanks to the Diamonds, but suppressed her emotions to the point where she couldn’t empathize with her sister’s plight. Blue needed to be more thoughtful to change, and Yellow needed to be more in touch with her emotions to change, and thus the stage is set for the Battle of Heart and Mind against White Diamond.

Except that this isn’t the lesson of Change Your Mind. Blue and Yellow show that some bigots can be reached, which is great! But despite their differences, Steven uses the same basic strategy in both: he doesn’t let them belittle his identity, he confidently dispels their wrongheaded assumptions, and he gets help from allies instead of shouldering the burden himself. We spend the beginning of the episode seeing that in the right circumstances this approach can work, but from here we’ll see that with some bigots, it’s a non-starter.

So long as you can engage with bigots while maintaining your self-respect, it can be good work to try and help them see the light. It’s not an obligation, but if you want to change hearts and minds, Steven provides a good template for how to do it. Now the rest of the episode can focus on the bigger lesson: if someone refuses to respect your humanity when you’re steadfast and forthright, it isn’t your job to breathe in their poison, or to hold your breath until you asphyxiate waiting for change.

But more on that after the break!

I Can’t Believe We’ve Come So Far

As we reach the end of the original series, it would be criminal not to acknowledge three long-time storyboarders who are on their way out. This isn’t their final contribution to the series, as only one of Change Your Mind’s twelve credited writer/boarders didn’t go on to work on The Movie in some way (Christine Liu, whose tenure was brief but great), and Hilary Florido stayed on as a supervisor for Future. But I wanted to write the big sendoffs here, as this is the last proper “episode” that these three worked on as regular boarders. So it’s time to say goodbye to Katie Mitroff, Hilary Florido, and Jeff Liu.

First up is Katie Mitroff, who clocked two early knockouts with Alone Together and The Test alongside Florido. Mitroff’n’Florido went on to make other classics like Maximum Capacity and Joy Ride before the former teamed up with Lamar Abrams and the latter teamed up with Jesse Zuke for their next batch of episodes.

With Abrams, Mitroff deepened the lore of the show with We Need to Talk, Steven’s Birthday, Bismuth, Buddy’s Book, Three Gems and a Baby, and especially The Answer. She gave us the harrowing revelation of Back to the Moon, and the most ridiculous episode of the series, Restaurant Wars. Her final partner was Paul Villeco, finishing strong with The Trial, Back to the Kindergarten, Your Mother and Mine, Pool Hopping, What’s Your Problem?, Reunited, and Change Your Mind, 100% of which are either in my Love ‘em ranking or my Top Episodes. (Oh, sorry, spoiler alert I love Change Your Mind.)

It’s strange, because she didn’t work on any of the major episodes of Amethyst’s big arc at the end of Season 3, but Mitroff is one of my favorite Amethyst boarders: she’s the consistent thread between Maximum Capacity, Back to the Moon, and What’s Your Problem?, three cornerstones of the character. She excelled at going outside the show’s usual style, as seen in The Answer and Your Mother and Mine, and it’s no coincidence she helped animate Isn’t It Love? to bring Cotton Candy Garnet back for one last ride.

Katie Mitroff is an absolute rock star, I wish her well and you should too.

#change your mind #steven universe #su #steven universally #review

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wickedmilo · 3 years

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NOT SO TERRIFYING | MILO & METZLI

PLACE: Metzli’s Apartment TIMING: 8:57 PM SUMMARY: Struggling to process nearly hurting Bex, Milo turns to Metzli for support WRITING PARTNER: @deathisanartmetzli CONTENT WARNINGS: Alcohol tw, alcoholism tw, mentions of grooming, abuse tw, emotional abuse tw

The vampire version of sleep wasn’t something Milo usually enjoyed. Yes, it allowed for a few hours of blissful escapism, but it wasn’t the warm, comfortable escapism that Human sleep so often provided. This was cold, and clinical. A strange sense of nothingness. Sometimes it felt like he closed his eyes and lost entire days, no passing of time, no way of knowing just how long he had been dead to the world. But today, waking up as the sun began to disappear behind clouds, and the White Crest horizon, he was grateful for it. Grateful that, for a while at least, he had been able to forget the previous evening. Bex had been so ready to get drunk, so ready to have fun, but her intoxication had quickly become a rage he hadn’t seen before, there was a frenzied spark behind her eyes as she hurried into the woods, in search of someone, or something he had never heard her speak of. And then… he swallowed, the memories rushing back to him. He had never lost control like that before, never been so overwhelmed by the urge to hurt a friend. It was different to the way he had felt upon first becoming a vampire. That had been feral, and confusing, and his mind had gone utterly blank. This loss of control hadn’t just been desperate, but calculating. He hadn’t lunged for Bex to kill her, or drain her. His mind had been telling him to be careful, justifying the urge for her blood alongside the urge to protect her. It scared him to know he could think that way, could validate his own desires when they were obviously at the expense of somebody he cared about. He had text Metzli during the day, asking for their help, but now that night was falling and he was able to visit them, he didn’t feel so confident in his decision.

He could talk to Harsh, but he didn’t want to disappoint him, and he definitely didn’t want to cause him any more trouble. After taking him in, and teaching him so much, he didn’t deserve to worry about whether his ward might be volatile, or dangerous. He could talk to Metzli too, but he was embarrassed by what had taken place, undeniably ashamed of his actions. No, Metzli was the perfect person to talk to. And he needed to talk to someone. Not only would they understand the effect fresh blood could have on a vampire, they had almost hurt Bex once too. The thought filled him with guilt. The two vampires closest to Bex had both made attempts to drink her blood, it couldn’t exactly fill her with confidence. But at least Metzli knew what he was going through, they must have faced the same inner turmoil, the same guilt, and trauma after their own attack. Picking up his phone to make sure he remembered their address, he peeked outside to make sure the sun was well and truly set before shrugging on a jacket and leaving the house. He had showered, and changed into clothes not covered in mud. But he still didn’t feel clean. His skin was itchy, his mouth dry like cotton, and his head was pounding due to the hangover he had been hoping he might be able to avoid. The blood bag in his pocket was heavy, and he wrapped both hands around it, holding it so that it wouldn’t tug down the whole front of his hoodie. He could only imagine the looks he would receive if people only knew what he was carrying. Eventually approaching what he assumed must be Metzli’s building, he let himself in and wandered the halls, taking each staircase slowly, prolonging the inevitable. When he finally reached the right apartment, he chewed on his bottom lip, staring at the door for far too long before finally knocking on it. Hesitant, and awkward. “Metzli- it’s me.”

Metzli was just in the middle of finishing up a match when Milo knocked. They had spent the day at home, only playing and doing the occasional stretch. The gallery would be fine, and the three employees they had could run it with ease. After a simple lie of going to acquire paintings out of state, they took their leave and cooped themselves up. Without even realizing it, they had begun to nest. Avoiding day to day responsibilities in order to stay isolated and do what they could to turn the negative thoughts and feelings into something different. Maybe even forget what they had learned so they didn’t have to feel this mixture of rage and agony.

The door opened suddenly as they pulled rashly, and they put in their best mask, sewing it together with their veins. “Hey Milo, come in.” Metzli waved him in, but really Yuca was the one who prompted him to step forward when she rubbed against his legs. “Yuca. ¡Apacíguarse!” They snapped and shooed her away while Milo was greeted with a picture perfect living room.

Yuca trotted away, beeping and meowing in a way that sounded annoyed. The reaction she gave them made them chuckle a little before returning their attention to Milo. “Make yourself at home. I’ll get us a drink.” Metzli walked over to their minibar and collected two crystal glasses and a whiskey decanter. When they were finally seated, the glasses were filled a quarter of the way and parsed out the cups between the two. “So, tell papa Metzli what’s going on.”

Milo flinched as the door was pulled open. It was sudden, and fast, and having the one barrier between himself and Metzli removed made him feel infinitely more vulnerable. Avoiding eye contact with them, he crossed the threshold after being invited in, immediately hit by a familiar scent. “Is Bex here?” His voice was sharp as he became concerned by the fact that his friend might be present. He wasn’t ready to face her just yet, he was barely ready to face himself. But it quickly became clear the scent was a remnant, the only heartbeat he could hear belonged to the cat rubbing against his legs. He offered the animal a weak smile, his expression slipping back to one of forlorn self-pity as Metzli hurried to shoo their pet away from him. For a brief moment, Yuca had been a welcome distraction. Finally looking up, begrudgingly catching Metzli’s eye, he walked further into the room at their instruction, heading towards the couch. He stopped before sitting down, reaching into his pocket to pull out the blood bag. “Speaking of…” He muttered, waiting for Metzli’s attention so that he could throw the bag to them from where he was standing. “Enjoy.”

Pushing his glasses further up his nose, pulling off his jacket to throw over the armrest closest to him, he fell back onto the cushions with a huff of breath. His shoulders hunched, it didn’t take very long for him to slip down into them, slouching as though maybe he could hide from his problems if only he made himself small enough. Waiting patiently, he listened to Metzli ready two drinks, focusing on the quiet sounds so he wouldn’t be forced to contemplate the reason for his visit. The smell of alcohol wafted towards him on a barely existent draft, and as his drink was poured, he reached out eagerly for the glass. Tapping his fingers against the side of it, grateful to have something to do with his hands, he shrugged, attempting to look casual, and unaffected. “I still don’t know if this is a good idea.” He admitted. “If I even…” But he did want to talk about it, whether he wanted to admit that to himself or not. That much was made clear by the fact that he had considered who to talk to, had messaged the best person to console him, and walked to their apartment the moment he was able to. Why did everything have to be so difficult? “Last night was just... really fucking shit.” He said finally, a frown creasing his brow at the understatement. “And I don’t know what to do- I don’t know how to feel. And I thought maybe- maybe you would understand.”

Metzli wiggled their fingers in overly excited anticipation. It had been a few days since their last meal so they quickly took the blood bag from Milo’s hands. Their teeth punctured to holes and they took a few gulps as Milo spoke. His voice was filled with regret, guilt built up from what had transpired between him and Bex. An all too familiar sound, but this time it wasn’t Metzli that was the source of it. “Why did you try to bite her anyway? You didn’t want to kill her, that’s obvious.” A pointed statement, an unnecessary one. Milo knew why he wanted to talk about it, but Metzli didn’t.

They could relate in a way, but they couldn’t connect with the true feelings of what they had done easily. If they thought of it passively, there wasn’t a single regret, not one morsel. But if they thought long enough, and played the images in their head, they could practically grab the regret and through the walls of soullessness.

“I guess I might understand. But the two times I bit Bex…she volunteered once, and the second time…I wanted to kill her. Well—I wanted to want to kill her.”

Milo watched as Metzli tore into the blood bag with their teeth. He was too used to pouring his blood into mugs, heating it in the microwave to mimic body temperature. He could only assume if his friend was drinking it cold, without any kind of hesitation, that they were thirsty. He remembered them mentioning an arrangement with somebody they knew. Were they still getting regular meals? Or were they starving again? He chose not to ask, too worried about what the answer to his question might be. His frown deepening as Metzli decided to forgo small talk, usually he would be grateful, but he almost found himself longing for it now. He swallowed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Of course I didn’t want to kill her.” He couldn’t stop himself from sounding defensive, offended by the thought even though he knew, deep down, it was a valid concern. “I was… I was scared.” He admitted, his voice quiet as he lowered his gaze. He stared at the glass in his hands, at the alcohol inside of it. Fear felt like a good place to start. “We were drunk too, I was- I was so drunk, Metzli… Bex ran into the forest. I followed her and there were these- these creatures. I think she knew what they were, but not well. I’ve never seen anything like them before. She was bleeding, I can’t remember why. I think while we were trying to escape the creatures I was distracted. I knew I wanted her blood but it wasn’t my priority, you know? I could ignore that feeling…” He trailed off, taking a long drink so that he had a moment to collect his thoughts. The alcohol burned, and he relished the sensation. Hopefully it would chase away his hangover.

“And then the creatures left… it was like everything that was distracting me disappeared at the same time. The fear, and panic, and adrenaline. Everything was just… gone. All that was left was her blood. So I-” He broke off again, blinking tears from his eyes. He wasn’t sure when they had formed, and he reached up to brush them away, embarrassed by the display of emotion. “I didn’t know that could happen.” He said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “I know if we don’t eat, we can be dangerous… but I drink a lot of blood, more than I need to. And I didn’t realise I could still lose control like that. I wasn’t trying to kill her, but doesn’t that make it worse? Because I kind of knew what I was doing, I was trying to rationalise it.” Letting out a slow breath, his shoulders dropping now that he had said what he needed to say, he was hoping it would feel like a weight had been lifted. But if anything, he only felt more miserable. The second time I… I wanted to kill her. His heart dropped, an uncomfortable sensation now that he no longer had a heartbeat, a constant sense of movement inside his chest. Maybe Metzli couldn’t understand. Maybe this entire endeavour was pointless. He finished what was left of his drink, pushing himself to stand. “Forget it.” He muttered, swiping his jacket from the arm rest. “Forget it, this was stupid. I shouldn’t have come.”

With the blood bag depleted, Metzli threw it on the coffee table and grabbed their drink. “Milo, look…” They leaned back cooly into the couch, enjoying the cold sensation of the untouched leather. “Whether you like it or not, you’re a predator. And Bex, she’s your prey. You’re still relatively new to being a vampire. Blood is blood and when the animalistic side of our brain registers it, it’s like it turns off every humane sense in us.” Memories of when they tried to kill Bex plagued their mind, and they bit their lip, hard. “That side does get easier to manage though. When I bit Bex, I was able to let go. I was even able to have her blood smeared on me and able to clean it up. It just takes time.”

Metzli looked softly at Milo but was quickly distracted by Yuca leaping onto the couch for attention. Always for attention. She purred loudly and pushed her head into Milo’s chest, basically begging him to pet her. Regardless of how cute she was being, they continued, “It’s natural to crave it, it’s who we are. It’s ingrained in us. My recommendation? Until you’re able to suppress that side, take to biting your own hand or arm,” they paused, taking a sip of the whiskey before continuing. “Pain usually overloads the senses enough to stop everything else. It’s what I do when I’m fighting for control. It’s what I did when Bex practically begged me to take her blood when I was starving myself. And if a piece of shit like me can stop themselves, so can you.”

Milo glared at Metzli, partially because he didn’t enjoy being spoken to as though he was missing something obvious. Partially due to the fact that they were undeniably making a lot of sense. Just because he chose to navigate around the bloodlust, and aggressive instincts, it didn’t mean they weren’t there. His body and mind had been changed, even if he hated the idea, even if the idea made him uncomfortable. He had been carefully designed to see humans as food because… well, they were food. “But I wasn’t hungry.” He stated again, as though that alone could erase what had taken place. He wasn’t hungry, so he had no reason to lose control. Why couldn’t it be that simple? He could hear the desperation in his own voice, hear how hard he was trying to move past his guilt, but he was too tired to hide his emotion. Metzli already knew he was upset, they could probably read him as well as Macleod given how much time they had spent together. “I don’t want it to take time. I don’t want to feel like- like some ticking time bomb that could get triggered the moment somebody gets hurt. If I can’t trust myself then… then how is anybody else going to trust me? How is Bex going to trust me, Metzli?”

Falling silent, he felt fresh tears begin to sting at his eyes as he welcomed the sudden appearance of Yuca. The cat settled the anxiety in his chest, and he reached out to scratch her ears as she clambered onto his lap. She butted his palm with her head, rubbing against him without any concern for her safety. “I should bite myself?” He echoed. Maybe once upon a time the thought would have felt barbaric, and animalistic. Now, given his natural desire to lead with his teeth, it made an awful lot of sense. He secretly hoped there would never come a time where the strategy would become necessary, but he wasn’t stupid. He understood just how possible it was. “I don’t think you’re a piece of shit.” He murmured, staring down at Yuca so that he could avoid making eye contact with his friend. “I think you’re a good person.”

Metzli understood that fear, that panic to get a sense of control over something so clearly out of reach. The anger that came, not only at the person who caused it all, the sire, but yourself too. Because now that the sire is gone, all that is left is you. You’re left with this slice of life with nothing sweet on the side. Left to figure skate alone on thin ice. But Milo didn’t have to be alone. Not if Metzli figured out how to be there. “I think you just need to accept what you are now, Milo. Stop hating what you are and accept yourself. All of it. The blood, the instincts, the senses, all of it. You’re still you, depresso.” They put as much energy as they could muster in the words, feeling a little dejected and tired from their own troubles.

“Bex hasn’t lost her trust in you. She still trusts you. And cares about you. She has accepted you before you have.” Metzli stated, as if it was obvious enough for everyone to see. “I tried to kill her and when I had a panic attack at that very moment, she checked on me.” A scoff slipped past their lips at the memory, and a pang of something made their face fall into a small frown. ��Hate to break it to you, but it’s gonna take a little bit of time and practice. You’ll get there, though.” They waved dismissively at the compliment and stretched before pouring more whiskey in both glasses and propping their feet onto their coffee table.

“Oh, neat. They’re healing faster now. Thanks for the blood.” Metzli referred to the bite marks on their thighs. With Milo being current company, they laughed and got excited at the potential to gross him out.

Milo chewed on his bottom lip. It wasn’t the first time somebody had told him to accept his vampirism as a part of himself. Maybe one day he would get there, he had definitely stopped mourning for everything he had lost, stopped focusing on what he missed so that he could pay more attention to the present. And it was becoming more familiar, more steadily normal. But not easy. Not yet. “I don’t know how.” He admitted, feeling small, and helpless. At a loss of what else he could say. He appreciated the way Metzli was speaking, they were no longer reminding him of how illogical his thoughts could be. Instead they were comforting him in the way they knew he needed to be comforted. “I know I’m still me…” His voice was quiet as he thought back on the first conversation he had ever shared with Harsh. Harsh had been one of the only people to tell him that, to tell him no matter what happened he was still the same Milo Summers. Finally looking up again at the mention of Bex, there was no doubt in his mind that Metzli was right. But he didn’t want to believe them because he didn’t deserve forgiveness, or understanding, or trust. Not from Bex, not from the person he was supposed to protect.

“Was she here?” He asked, still able to detect her scent. It clung to the furniture, briefly becoming stronger each time he shifted in his seat. “Did she tell you that?” A weak smile tugging at his lips as Yuca finally curled up to sleep, he focused on the warmth of their body, how unconditionally loving she was. “She ran- I don’t know if she told you that. She couldn’t even look at me, she just… ran.” His heart ached as he considered how scared she must have been. How jarring was it to escape danger, to feel the crushing sense of relief that came with the knowledge of being safe, only to realise there was a new danger? An unexpected danger that you could never hope to be prepared for?

Ignoring Metzli as they poured him another drink, he became momentarily distracted by their comment, glancing up at them to see what they were referring to. It was only as they lifted their legs that he noticed the bite marks littering their inner thighs. It took him all of two seconds to realise Macleod was the one to leave them there, and he wrinkled his nose, unable to help himself. “Jeez, you guys have issues.” He muttered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “You’re like teenagers… you need to fucking chill.”

“Practice then,” Metzli began, a voice full of experience and history. “You’re scared of your own existence. And you have every right to be. We’re deadly creatures. We drink the lives of humans and can do it before they even react. You know what that feral feeling is now. Use it.” They stared at Yuca, taking a second to listen to her purr. Two monsters in a room and she felt safe. That had to mean something. “Use that experience and take control of the beast. You don’t have to be scared of what you can do. You just have to be scared of failure. And I think you love Bex a lot more than you are scared of your inner beast.” This, too, was familiar. The control that Metzli lacked after being turned. Nearly killing the last of the survivors when they went to check on the ruins of their village. Impossible wasn’t an option then, and it isn’t one now for Milo either. Success was akin to effort and chance, that it felt so close to being in range.

“She was here, yeah. After what happened, she came straight here and spent the night. I could smell her outside the building and wanted her blood so badly. But I…I love her more than I do blood and managed to patch her up and let her fall asleep on me.” Metzli smiled softly at the recollection, but tensed soon after, feeling vulnerable and exposed for saying such a thing. “I—uh, she, yeah. She left the next morning and was fine. Just a little scraped and tired.”

Eager to move on, Metzli raised their crop top and revealed several more bite marks on their abdomen and neck. “You should see your mom. She gets a lot more, but she heals a lot faster. Look, it’s not her fault she can’t feel as much. We gotta do what we gotta do.” The vampire gave Milo a toothy grin, hoping he wouldn’t remark on the proclamation they just gave only moments prior.

“I’m not scared.” Milo bit out, knowing even as he spoke the words that they were incredibly untrue. It was obvious to him, and undoubtedly obvious to Metzli, but he refused to correct himself. Maybe if he said them with enough conviction they would become true. Maybe if he didn’t take them back then he could manifest them. Still focusing on Yuca, allowing the cat to distract him from the true weight of the conversation, he was surprised to find Metzli was making a lot of sense. When you were familiar with a sensation, you had more hope of controlling it, or at the very least recognising its triggers. You don’t have to be scared of what you can do. You just have to be scared of failure. A sigh escaping him, he nodded in response. He did love Bex, he loved Bex more than he had ever been expecting to. Something told him his company might relate to that. Maybe he had spent too much time running from what he was, and not enough time breaking it down, learning about every aspect and element of his new being.

A gentle smile tugging at his lips, he tried to imagine Metzli sitting with Bex curled up in their lap. It was a strange image, given what he knew of the vampire, but a very welcome one. It made him wonder whether they liked him more than they let on. They always made such a show of not caring, but maybe to some degree it was just that; A show. “She was okay?” He asked, unable to hide how desperate he was for the assurance. “Really?” Not realising he had been leaning forward in his seat, he fell back against the cushions again, letting out a petulant groan at the sudden change of subject. “You gotta do what you gotta do but that doesn’t mean you gotta tell me about it.” He teased, feeling his mood begin to brighten as they fell back into their usual habits. He wasn’t used to being so vulnerable with Metzli, and he was so tired. Both mentally, and physically. “I already have enough trauma, I don’t need you two adding to it.”

Their eyes couldn’t roll any harder if they tried. But Metzli wouldn’t remark on Milo’s fib. He wasn’t just lying to Metzli, but he was lying to himself too. They understood. It was a practice they had mastered themselves. “She was okay. Just a little panicky. By the time morning came, she was a lot better and even had some breakfast. She’s okay, Milo. Worried about you, even. It sounds crazy, I know. But like I said, she’s accepted what you are before you even could.”

On their third glasses, they didn’t even bother to sip it, simply throwing their head back to practically inhale the drink. As they poured another glass, Metzli locked eyes with Milo, “I recommend getting in touch with her. ‘Cause right now, you’re more scared of you than she is of you. And next time, you’ll be better prepared. I've been a vampire a long time. A soulless one at that. If I can learn, so can you.” A reassuring energy covered their words, actually finding a source of genuine fondness for Milo. They saw a lot of themselves, their self that had a soul as a vampire for a few weeks, in him.

“What, you gonna go tattle to her? Again?” Metzli laughed and let their head fall back onto the couch. “I think I’m actually starting to really like her. Her and I are actually gonna go on an actual date on Friday. Oh! Speaking of,” they paused, sipping on the whiskey. “I’m heading out of town on Saturday. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. You think you can come by Saturday night to feed Yuca? No problem if you can’t.”

Milo narrowed his eyes, not failing to notice Metzli’s response. But they didn’t say anything, and he didn’t have enough energy to try and start an argument. Not when they had been so understanding, not when they were genuinely trying to help him. He felt the guilt in his chest flare at the mention of Bex being panicked, but he reminded himself that said information wasn’t new. She had run from him, of course she was panicked. What truly mattered was how she felt once she was safe, whether she was scared of him, or angry, or anxious. A quiet laugh of disbelief escaping him, he shook his head, as always intrigued, and amazed by his friend’s ability to forgive. Metzli was right. Bex knew he was a vampire, and she knew what that meant for their dynamic. He was the one who was struggling to accept the truth. Quickly finishing what was left in his glass so that he could encourage Metzli to refill it, he relished the buzz of the alcohol he had already consumed. It was warming his fingertips, relaxing his tense muscles.

“Yeah, I guess…” He agreed, resigning himself to what he was being told. Metzli knew better. And though they weren’t the type to bring up their age gap, they were older. They had been doing this for far longer. He really should be listening to them, he really should be taking in what they were trying to teach him. “She text me…” He admitted, swallowing as he thought about the reply he still owed her. It was so difficult to know what to say. Hallmark didn’t sell ‘sorry I tried to drink your blood’ cards, and even if they did it wouldn’t feel like enough. His smile slipping back into place, he stuck out his tongue. “Maybe…” He countered, pleased for the lighthearted topic. “Although you’re a bad influence. It probably won’t be long before she starts doing this shit too, and then who’s going to get mad when people punch me in the face?” Shifting in his seat, curious to hear what Metzli was going to ask him, he was shocked to realise they wanted him to take care of Yuca, and he could only assume their apartment by extension. “What? Why?” He felt suddenly concerned. It was strange that they were leaving with no idea of how long they might be gone for. “What are you- I mean, where are you going?”

The effects of the alcohol were visible on Milo. He relaxed and began to genuinely listen to Metzli’s words, which they didn’t expect him to do. As someone who rarely listened to anyone else, they never felt offended when someone didn’t listen to them. That’s why when Milo half heartedly agreed, it didn’t really incite a reaction. There wasn’t one that needed to be executed. Moving on, they tipped the decanter towards Milo’s cup and poured. It was halfway gone now, but there was no buzz to be found yet.

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll be the one to get mad. Or maybe both of us. But I don’t know. It’s probably best we just stay fuck buddies. I’ve never done the whole relationship thing and don’t plan to. Connections like that are dangerous.” Metzli thought out loud, practically rambling. Shaking their head, they managed to refocus and look at Milo as he questioned them. They wondered if they should tell him the truth. But if they were to not return, they thought it best that they did. At least, for Yuca’s sake. “I’ll pay you. I only plan on being gone two, maybe three days. Uh…” There was a loud gulp as they chucked the rest of their glass back and poured another. The tingling and warmth finally come to the forefront of their senses. “My sire, my master, he uh…he found me. Sent some clan members to spy on me and feed him info. So I’m gonna go find the hideout and rip them apart.”

Fear and rage mixed together like oil and water. It didn’t work. They wanted so desperately for them to mix so they could use them both as motivation. But fear won in the end. What their face showed though, was nothing but composure. Not having a heartbeat was a saving grace. One brought out of hellish actions and not a prayer. “And don’t worry, I got backup. Bex was already on my ass about it.”

“I don’t want either of you to get mad.” Something Milo definitely wouldn’t have said out loud if he had been sober, but he also didn’t regret his words. They were true. Metzli, and Macleod had both been integral parts of his life as a vampire. He didn’t know where he would be without them. The thought of them getting upset, or arguing made him nervous, which was ridiculous really. As much as he liked to joke, they weren’t actually his parents. “Yeah, me neither…” He murmured, a frown creasing his brow. It was something he was being forced to consider a lot, as of late, and not a topic he was entirely comfortable with. He always told himself he didn’t need a relationship, he was more than happy on his own. He was saving himself a lot of trouble by avoiding them, but what if it wasn’t that simple? The way his heart ached for Orion told him that he might be lying to himself. Jeez, why hadn’t he just kissed him?

“Dangerous why? Because people could get hurt?” He asked, wondering what logic Metzli was using. Maybe it was a similar brand to his own. He opened his mouth, confused about the offer of payment. He knew he should insist otherwise, tell Metzli he didn’t need their money. But truthfully, he was never somebody to turn down payment, not when his habits were so undeniably expensive. “I- okay.” He agreed, watching them as they seemed to search for courage at the bottom of their glass. Only when they spoke again did he understand why. “What?” His voice was so sharp that Yuca stirred, staring up at him as though daring him to interrupt her slumber. “Metzli, what the fuck- isn’t he like, the biggest asshole on the planet? Can’t you just- I don’t know, lay low for a while?” He spluttered, sitting upright, on edge again despite his intoxication. Yuca gave up on a comfortable perch, standing slowly before jumping from his lap, realising he was no longer going to sit still for her. “Metzli, backup or no backup, you can’t just take down a bunch of vampires. Even I know that.”

Metzli chuckled and shook their head as they pinched the bridge of their nose. “Connections like romantic relationships are dangerous because I’m a monster, Milo. Though I enjoy it most of the time, even I know things like me don’t get that romantic ending. And I’ve never cared for one anyway.” Their glass of whiskey was quickly depleted and they stared off into nothing, losing focus and watching as their vision blurred. Everything was so muffled while they got lost in their distant stare. But Milo managed to reel them back in with his questions and concerns.

“Chill. I know how master works. He’s gathering intel right now, and I need to get rid of his little crew so he gets blinded for a while. It’ll buy me time to figure things out. Macleod is actually the one coming with. She said she’s an expert at ripping heads off, so I figured she was my best bet.” Metzli explained further and motioned for Milo to calm down. Confidence radiated from their body language, knowing that they could handle themselves from years of experience. “I’ve taken down multiple groups of vampires, kid. I’ll be fine. Please just focus on Yuca.” A half-hearted smile formed subtly on their face and they sighed. The signs of stress were making themselves evident, but they knew they had to be strong.

With a pat to Milo’s shoulder, Metzli looked straight into his eyes and began, “I promise I’ll be fine.” A grimace flashed over their face and they gagged dramatically. “Yeesh. That felt weird to say. Just tell me to fuck off and die so I know it’s real.”

Milo sat in silence, watching Metzli as they explained their stance, their words cutting through him sharper than any knife ever could. Had he missed his chance? Had he spent so long insisting he didn’t need romance in his life that the moment for it had entirely passed him by? He thought of Evelyn and Miriam, of Bex and Mina. They were supernatural, and they had found ways to navigate their love for each other. Evidently it was possible. “Does that mean I don’t get one either?” He asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper. He didn’t want to admit the longing he suddenly felt, but it was true that you only knew how much you wanted something when it became impossible, when somebody actively took it away from you. “Things like us…” He corrected, a weight on his shoulders that hadn’t been present until hearing the way Metzli spoke. They weren’t people, they were things. Monsters undeserving of affection. His frown only deepening as the conversation moved back to Metzli’s clan, he let out a frustrated huff of breath.

“You still call him master... do you realise how fucked up that is?” He asked, unable to help himself. The dark mood settling over him was making it difficult to stay calm. His gentle tone wasn’t easy to maintain. “You’re going to take him on and you still call him master. How do you know you won’t falter when you see him, Metzli? How do you know he isn’t going to get inside your head again?” Feeling a spark of relief upon realising Macleod would be accompanying his friend, if any two people could take on a clan, it would be Macleod and Metzli, fighting together, side by side. “She’s definitely your best bet.” He begrudgingly agreed, making it clear he still wasn’t happy about the idea. “Yeah, you’ve done it before, but I doubt any of those vampires ever groomed you.” Glancing down at Yuca, who was carefully cleaning her paws on the floor at his feet, he couldn’t deny the affection he had for the animal. “I’ll take care of Yuca… obviously.” He muttered, looking back up to hold Metzli’s gaze as they leaned forward to pat him on the shoulder. Their words comforted him, but he knew he couldn’t count on them, so he shrugged them off, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “You can’t make that promise, and you shouldn’t. If you hadn’t made that ridiculous promise to Mina, Bex and I wouldn’t have gone out and none of this would have happened.” He tried to stay angry, tried to cling to his resentment, but a smile was soon tugging at his lips in spite of his best efforts. A few seconds passed before he finally gave into it. “I’m not telling you to fuck off and die, asshole. I want you to come back.”

“I never said you were a monster, idiot.” Metzli eyed Milo carefully and with soft eyes. “I said monsters like me. I was a monster well before I became a vampire.” They looked away, as if Milo was too bright and they needed to avert their gaze to protect their sight. “You and I couldn’t be any more different despite what we are.” A darkness fogged over Metzli’s eyes and they furrowed their brow, showing brief signs of despair. Erasing the signs with whiskey, this sucked their teeth and begrudgingly sipped on their drink more. How many times did they have to explain? How many more people did they have to tell? It was becoming monotonous.

Just as more words formed on their tongue, Milo struck them with the flick of his own tongue. Do you know how fucked up that is? Metzli indeed knew how fucked up it was. If it were Milo, if they had the capacity to empathize, they would’ve slaughtered Eloy immediately. Could someone, could multiple people have that ability for them? The answer was yes, but that wasn’t something they were letting themselves believe. Not when people leave so readily. “I don’t know that. I don’t. But I have to kill him. Myself. He took everything from me. I have to try. It has to be by my hands. And I need more time l—more time to get stronger and make a plan.” The unsteady momentum of their voice was prominent, but they hoped they could break from the coffin of terror they had been nailed shut in.

“That’s surprising. Don’t know why you’d want me to come back. Figured you’d want Yuca all to yourself.” A slow, wry smile tugged onto their lips and they propped their elbows onto their knees as they leaned forward. “I’m not gonna make stupid promises anymore. If I make a promise, it’s because I mean it. I got shit to do. So, I promise I’m coming back.”

Milo continued to frown, tapping absentmindedly at the side of his glass as he thought on Metzli’s words. “I don’t believe that.” He said finally, mustering all of his conviction so that they would know he was being entirely serious. “Not for a second.” Waiting for them to look up at him so that he could pointedly hold their gaze, he couldn’t help but notice their expression. Just how lost they looked. He wasn’t used to seeing Metzli so vulnerable. He wondered whether he ever looked the same way to them. “We are different, but that doesn’t make me good or you bad… it only means that we’re- well, that we’re different.” Not the most eloquent of speakers, even sober, with the alcohol in his system he could only hope his muddled sentence was enough to convey his sentiment. He had done some pretty terrible things, and so had Metzli. But he also knew Metzli had done some wonderful things, things to help others, and make the world a better place. Whether they believed that or not, it was true.

Not expecting such honesty in response to his comment, he fell silent, scared by his friend’s admission. If they did falter, they would die. They had to know that. Part of him wondered whether they really cared. They had spoken about death before in such a casual way. They seemed to hold no value for their own life, only ever the lives of others. “I know- I get that.” He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to validate any of what they were saying, but they deserved honesty too. It was the very least he could do for them, all things considered. “I just don’t want to lose you… and I know there are other people who don’t want to lose you. You’re not bad company, you know?” Offering Metzli a weak smile, unable to hide how worried he was about their mission, he patted his lap at the mention of Yuca, knowing the cat was eyeing him from where they were sitting in the centre of the room. It didn’t take long for the animal to approach, apparently forgiving him for disturbing her earlier. She clambered back up onto his legs, purring, and butting her head against his chest in a desperate bid for attention. “I do want her to myself.” He agreed, his smile growing, becoming stronger, and more genuine. “But something tells me she might try and eat Summer and Quinn so I guess she’ll just have to stay here with you.” Scratching Yuca behind the ears, it was comforting to be so accepted by an animal. There was something so pure about their affection. “I’m going to hold you to that promise…” He said, his voice quiet, and pensive. “I’ll be waiting for you when you come home.”

Metzli’s eyes closed briefly, trying to take in Milo’s words in a way that wouldn’t break them completely. First Bex, then Milo, and now even Macleod showed them compassion and care in a way that they had never experienced. Never even hoped to experience. How did someone so vile and monstrous manage to have that happen? “You don’t have to believe that, Milo. But, I do.” They stood up suddenly, becoming acutely aware of the preparations they needed to make before they left town for a few days. Keys jingled from a key ring that hung by the front door, and Metzli sat down while simultaneously dropping the key into Milo’s lap. “You’re gonna need this,” They pressed their lips into a thin line and then finally rolled their eyes. Somehow, they had managed to settle back into a more relaxed deposition. “Well, you can’t have Yuca, and I’m definitely coming back. And don’t say cringey shit like that. Lose me? Come on, get real.”

A hand pressed against Milo’s arm and shoved him playfully, making everything that much more light-hearted. Metzli didn’t like the seriousness that had taken over the conversation on their part. But they supposed that both vampires needed this. Needed to not feel so alone, and maybe find the answers to the internal questions that they didn’t dare say aloud. “Are you feeling better?” Their voice had a candor of annoyance, but that was only a show. Truthfully, it was more to find out whether or not they were getting better at their own version of compassion. To see if they were capable of making things better despite not being a whole person.

“You can stay here tonight. But I gotta go check on my gallery and make some final arrangements. All my alcohol better be here when I get back. Actually—” Metzli rose once again from the couch and went to their liquor cabinet to lock it. “There. No you have to only survive on the rest of that whiskey if you stay here.”

“Well, I know it isn’t true, and that’s what actually matters.” Milo countered easily. He wasn’t about to let Metzli get away with talking so negatively, especially not about themself. He knew if the roles were reversed, they would all but bite his head off in an attempt to get him to stop. Watching curiously as they jumped to their feet, it soon became clear what they were doing, and he hurried to catch the keys. It was strange, holding physical proof of Metzli’s plan. It made everything feel more real, and the anxiety in his chest seemed to triple in a matter of seconds. “I’m allowed to be cringe. Let me be cringe.” He muttered, trying to hide his concern. It wouldn’t benefit either of them, and he didn’t want to make things any harder than they needed to be. Despite his nerves, a laugh managed to escape him when Metzli playfully shoved him, and he grinned when Yuca glared up at him, clearly worried he was going to move again. “Don’t worry,” he whispered to her, gently running his fingers through her fur. “I’m not going anywhere.” She made a soft sound in response, and if he didn’t know better he would say she had understood his words.

His smile faded at Metzli’s question as he was reminded of the reason for his visit, but it didn’t disappear. “You’re right.” He said, forcing himself to be open. It was difficult to admit but he didn’t want them to leave thinking he didn’t trust them with his feelings. “I am scared of myself. Sometimes I- I’m really fucking terrified.” He exhaled, tilting his head to stare at the ceiling, composing himself before speaking again. “But I have you, right? And you make everything… you make everything not so terrifying.” His grin firmly back in place at the mention of taking their alcohol, his expression fell when he realised they planned to lock their liquor cabinet. Apparently they were being serious. “No fair.” He pouted. “If you wanted me to leave, you could have just told me.” But he was teasing. He was done lying to himself, and done lying to Metzli, at least for the evening. And their company was a comfort, it made him feel almost normal, as though his problems weren’t miriad, and entirely overwhelming. “I guess I’ll be here when you get back then.” He offered them a smile, his eyes shining with open affection. “Unless you need any help with your gallery?”

Milo’s words forced Metzli to look away and act like they were just calmly grabbing their keys. You make everything not so terrifying. Being a source of comfort never seemed possible, and it felt good to finally be doing something right for a change. Pretending to sift through some papers for just a few seconds longer, they closed their eyes tightly and composed themselves enough to appear` normal. “I guess you do have me. For now. If you get too clingy, though, I’m gone.” Tone was teasing and obviously playful. Taking a few strides to the back of the couch, they tousled Milo’s hair and chuckled lightly.

“You won’t need to come again until Saturday night, so just let yourself out before I get home in the morning. Unless you wanna see some freaky shit.”

Metzli walked to the door and grabbed a few more things before opening it and pausing before stepping out. “Thanks for helping me out. And...I’m glad I was able to help a little bit. I’ll see you soon, okay? Try not to wreck my apartment.” The door closed slowly and their steps receded down the hallway. The connections they were making were growing in number. And while it was only a handful, it was far more than Metzli had ever dreamed of having. It scared them, having this much to lose with their former master so close to taking everything away. But they thought maybe that’s what made it worth fighting for. They just had to fear failure, and nothing else.

#alcohol tw #alcoholism tw #grooming tw #abuse tw #emotional abuse tw #milo and metzli #c:metzli

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thebibliomancer · 3 years

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Song of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 13

Song of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because we gotta convince Tavra to go on a quest for a magic flute! Wait, is this opera suddenly?

Last times in book: Kylan, Naia, Tavra and Gurjin visited Aughra on High Hill to get her help in warning all Gelfling that Skeksis were Bad. She doesn’t help but does give Kylan a random book. The random book (BY RAUNIP!) has a story in it about a magic firca that lets you write multiple things at a time. Also, Gurjin ditches.

Chapter 13

Tavra very, very, very, very reluctantly gets on board the sidequest train. The group finds some caves.

Kylan wakes to Tavra and Naia arguing about Gurjin and considers just pretending to still be asleep until the argument blows over which has to be the second most relatable Kylan moment!

“He left this,” Naia said, showing Tavra a flat stone with a dream-etching in it. Gurjin might not be literate, but he had marked it with a symbol most Gelfling knew, whether they could write or not: his clan’s sigil. The sign of the Drenchen was the whiskered muski, which seemed fitting in trade, since Neech had gone with Gurjin, as they had planned. “It must mean he’s going back to Sog. To my family. He’ll be safe there!”

OKAY wow! Apparently dream-etching is a power that any Gelfling can do! So its not that that keeps people from learning to read and write but so few do that I think maybe the Gelfing just have a super complicated writing system? Since they don’t have to physically write it?

But lets add the ability to psychically burn pictures and words into surfaces as a ability that all Gelfling can do, even if they don’t actually know how to read.

And even if they don’t know how to read, the ability to just burn dots or a clan sigil into things, is incredibly useful.

So Gelfling are all psychic and can all burn stuff into surfaces. And half of them can fly. They’re not quite as hax as Moers’ Wolpertingers but they do get a lot of neat abilities.

Tavra doesn’t buy the argument that Gurjin is safer back at the Sog because it presupposes him managing to reach the Sog and doesn’t buy Naia’s argument that traveling separately makes it more difficult for the Skeksis to capture them all.

But also he has too much of a head start to find so all Tavra can really do is complain, and complain she do.

Also, her wings buzz in irritation. More wing body language!

“We can only hope he will make it to the place he says he will. We’ll have to get him later. Now, come on, get up. We’re making the Black River by nightfall, or so help me.”

Naia crossed her arms and planted her feet.

“No,” she said.

“Excuse me?”

HA! I feel a little bad for Tavra who (spider or not) is trying to herd protagonists like cats when they keep darting off after whatever shiny sidequest they see instead of sticking to the main plot.

“I want to reach Ha’rar, of course, but Rian’s already far along on his way there. In the meantime, you’re not the leader of this traveling party, and I’m tired of you treating us like children you’ve got to watch. Kylan found something in the book Aughra gave him, about a magic firca that might be able to send the message to the Gelfiing. So that is where we’re going. To the Caves of Grot, to look for the firca.”

Tavra gets mad (and her wings spread in anger, body languuuuuage) and throws in Naia’s face all the two times she’d had to rescue them recently but Naia replies “We didn’t ask for your help, and we’d be happy to thank you for it if you weren’t being such a salty kelp-sucker about it.”

Dang, Naia!

Tavra tries to pull rank, being the daughter of the All-Maudra but Naia pulls rank BETTER because she’s also the daughter of a maudra but the direct successor and not a middlest child.

Kylan is uncomfortable that Naia pulled rank to win an argument since it wasn’t the most diplomatic tack but hey, it actually works.

“Fine,” Tavra said. “We’ll have it your way, Drenchen. Let’s go looking for a flute that probably does not exist, and in the meantime, likely be trapped inside a mountain tunnel. But it makes no difference to me. Let’s go to die straightaway!”

She’s incredibly passive aggressive about it though. And it almost starts a fight with Naia but Kylan steps in with the info that the Caves of Grot are conveniently just on the east side of the nearby lake.

Naia proposes the plan that they’ll go around the lake and into the caves. If they find the Grottan, they’ll warn them about the Skeksis and get their help looking for the flute. If not, they’ll look for it themselves.

“And if we don’t find the firca at all?” Tavra asked. “Will you agree to abandon this fool’s quest and go with me to Ha’rar?”

Still not the best attitude, Tavra. But Kylan agrees because if they don’t find it, then he’s really out of ideas and they might as well rejoin the main plot line. But he also adds that if they DO find the firca, they’ll go to Ha’rar right after.

“So either way, Tavra, we will go north. If you give us your help, I think we will be the better for it. Help us find the firca, and we will depart for the capital even sooner.”

Kylan really would prefer that Tavra help them, what with all the skills she has.

[Tavra] started taking down the laundry line. The invincible knots melted in her hands, falling away as if they had never been tied, and for a moment she held the loop of white cord as if considering tying the two of them up and draggin them to Ha’rar.

“Let’s get this over with,” she said.

Pfffft.

Kylan uses the maps in the book to navigate them around the lake. With some difficulty because of the scribbled instructions and blotted ink. And he even frets that maybe Raunip was a madman and that all of this was nonsense.

Naia tells him not to worry (about the difficulty in interpreting the maps, not how maybe this might be fake which he doesn’t mention, nor his anxiety that he’s just clinging to this sidequest to feel important) because they’ve got Tavra and Tavra will help them find the caves if its the last thing she does to get this over and done with.

Kylan wonders how much Tavra must have on her mind and maybe she’s exhausted and in pain after all the Skeksis put her through but Naia tells Kylan not to make excuses for her.

“All that may be true, but none of that means she has to be so rude or mean. Hard-talk is one thing. Treating us like dirt is another. I’m done with it, so if she wants to keep taking out all her hardships on us, she better be prepared for some talk-back.”

Kylan decides though that since Tavra chose to accompany them instead of ditching means that she actually cares despite her attitude.

“Aughra could have done well to be more prepared for talk-back, too, eh?” Naia asked. Kylan chuckled, though his cheeks warmed.

“That was an accident. It just came out like that.”

“I didn’t know you had it in you. I liked it. Someone had to say what we were all thinking.”

Kylan says he’d rather Aughra had given them something but Naia says Aughra gave them a reason to make their own way. But also the cool book. And jokes that she’s starting to get jealous of how much time Kylan is spending with it.

He jokes back that he had to spend his time somewhere while Naia was hanging out with Gurjin.

“Kylan! Don’t say that. If I had to pick between traveling with only one of your two, it would be the one who’s here right now.”

And despite Kylan’s anxiety that its because he needs protecting, Naia has a different reason.

“No,” Naia said. “Because Gurjin and I always see things the same way. If the two of us always traveled together, we would never make it. When I’m with you, I have someone looking out for me from a different perspective. That’s important to me.”

Awww! Best friends!

Oh, and the conversation gets interrupted because Tavra, like Naia suggested, has gone and found the cave just to get this show on the road.

At a place where the beach gives way to cliffs right on the water, there are a bunch of holes dotting the cliffface, even Gelfling-sized caves.

.... I hope to never see a Dark Crystal/Amigara Fault mashup by the by.

Tavra pointed to a place on the cliff above the nearest cave. Hidden under the drooping ferns and creeping water-ivies was a dream-etched Gelfling symbol. The animal pictograph was ancient, eroded, but unmistakable - a flap-winged hollerbat, sigil of the Grottan Gelfling clan.

!! Its the Caves of Grot!

Also, nice to establish that anyone can dream-etch their clan sigil in a casual way in the same chapter that that’s used as a plot point to show the characters are on the right track.

#dark crystal #the dark crystal #Song of the Dark Crystal #liveblog #Kylan #Naia #Tavra #updating the quest log

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satonthelotuspier · 4 years

Text

How Shall We Stop Dreams - Part 11.

Follow the tag below for the previous parts, or you can read it all here on AO3 if you prefer.

Jiang Cheng would have been pacing if his leg wasn’t currently splinted up. Instead, all he could do was sit and stare at the door of the dungeon, tensing whenever he heard a noise outside. They had taken Lan Xichen away some time ago. He didn’t even know how long it had been.

Needless to say his welfare was foremost in Jiang Cheng’s mind.

Mo Xuanyu had drifted off into a troubled sleep, his head resting in Jiang Cheng’s lap, who continued to stroke his hair soothingly, and hum snippets of the lullabies he could remember A-Jie singing to him when he was a child.

Jiang Cheng wasn’t exactly comfortable with this level of touch with an almost stranger, but Mo Xuanyu’s life seemed to have been devoid of anything so comforting as normal human contact, and when Jiang Cheng thought of his own life, the casual, fond touches between his siblings, and even the hugs from his mother, well, wasn’t it a shame that people grew up without that? He could bear this if it offered even an ounce of comfort to the young man breathing softly in sleep next to him.

He continued to drift, stroking and humming absently, until the sudden rattling of a key in the lock announced that someone was outside.

The thick door opened, and Lan Xichen strode in, face impassive, arms folded behind his back. It was slammed closed behind him, and Jiang Cheng, and the awakened Mo Xuanyu, looked questioningly at him.

He sighed, and came to sit beside Jiang Cheng, resting against the wall. He reached out, and took Jiang Cheng’s hand, folding it in his own.

“Are you alright, Xichen?” Jiang Cheng asked, as the other didn’t appear to be about to offer any information voluntarily. At least he seemed to bear no new injuries, physically at least.

“I am, Wanyin. I was merely forced to submit to an examination by Wen Qing. They’re intrigued with the concept of empaths, as you may imagine. Bar being in contact with someone I didn’t particularly want to be, I’m fine.” He sighed. “She can barely function for her fear for Wen Qionglin.”

“Is Wen Ning alright?” Mo Xuanyu asked, a touch of distress in his voice. Jiang Cheng glanced at him briefly.

“As far as I’m aware, Mo-gongzi, I believe they’re using him to keep Wen Qing in line, however. She is an unparalleled physician, and I think Wen Ruohan is in need of her for that reason. For this whole scheme to bring cultivators here to test that vile crystal on. I’m glad it’s destroyed.”

“What was the purpose of the crystal? What did it even do?” Mo Xuanyu asked, wrapping his arms around his upraised knees.

Lan Xichen sighed again, and glanced at Jiang Cheng.

“I’m merely theorising, based on what I’ve seen, but I suspect it was effective at...altering, is the best word, perhaps?…how the Upper Dantian regulates the use of qi. Most cultivators will, without realising it, stop channelling qi at the point it becomes a danger to their life force. What happened earlier, to Wanyin, I wasn’t exaggerating when I said he almost killed himself to rescue the others. If I hadn’t been there to replace some of his qi energy he very well might have died.”

Jiang Cheng sucked in a breath in shock at the words. He had felt exhausted and drained, but hadn’t realised how very literally that had been.

“Wanyin, you’re a very strong spiritual cultivator, but no one of your cultivation level should be able to lift three grown humans and throw them like you did. Haven’t you noticed as you’ve been here that you’ve been able to do more?”

“All the things you’ve said I’ve done have been done without thinking, without noticing.” Jiang Cheng shook his head. So the crystal had stripped away his capacity to safely use his abilities to the extent of his power, because if he didn’t know when to stop, he could very easily overexert himself, again and again.

A sudden flair of anger blossomed in his chest, and he didn’t know how to deal with it, or what had sparked it.

He sucked a breath in through his nose, and looked at Lan Xichen.

It was as if he knew exactly what Jiang Cheng thought, and experienced. Except, of course, he did. At least the latter.

“I think that might happen more frequently too, I think it’s taken away more of your ability to regulate your reactions. I think you’re going to be feeling quite extreme emotions.”

He realised the implications immediately, and he could almost cry.

“And the man I’m falling in love with is an empath. I’m the last person he needs to be with.” He couldn’t stop the sharp, bitter laugh. Wasn’t that just perfect?

He realised that holding Lan Xichen’s hand was also the worst thing he could do, and tried to free his own. The other refused to be shaken off, however.

“Stop that, Wanyin. We can work on how to help you. I can teach you how to build mental walls, I’m quite an expert on it, if I do say so myself, if you’re that worried.”

“But why go to all that trouble? It’s more than I’m worth.”

“You’re already worth the world to me, Jiang Wanyin.” Lan Xichen said it like it was the simplest truth there was.

Mo Xuanyu had just risen, no doubt to move away from them as the conversation had become fairly intimate, when there was a soft noise over near the door.

“Wen Qionglin!” Mo Xuanyu exclaimed, as he saw the pale face between the bars. He moved quickly over to the door, pausing a little away from it, as if remembering something.

“Jiejie wasn’t wrong, you are a heavenly demon.”

Lan Qiren sent for them shortly after Wei Wuxian had finished breakfast, and they made their way to the Mingshi, which had been repurposed as an operations centre, complete with raised relief maps and walls and walls of silk-painted maps and information.

It was almost like the Lans had been expecting things to progress into a war, and from what the Jades had told them of their purpose, it wasn’t too big of a leap in reasoning to say they probably had.

Wei Wuxian glanced at the calm, expressionless profile of Lan Wangji, stood beside him, and waiting for his Shufu to be finished in his current discussion, which he appeared to be having with a transparent image of another man, which hovered in their air in front of him. Wei Wuxian had never met that man in person, but he thought, from the age and the robes he wore, that he was likely Nie Mingjue of the Qinghe Nie clan.

Lan Wangji’s shufu had a scholarly air, and a face it would have been hard to put an age to, even if he hadn’t been a cultivator.

“How are they communicating?” Wei Wuxian asked Lan Wangji, who shook his head, then waylaid a disciple who was carrying scrolls to ask him.

“There is a new, small sect that settled just outside Kuizhou. Their head disciple is something of a genius inventor, and he had just finishing developing this communication array to allow cultivators to talk over great distances. The sect offered it up for the good of the alliance against the Wens.”

“I see, I’d love to meet him. I’d love to know how it works.” He turned to Lan Wangji, who had something approaching a soft, indulgent look on his face.

He was about to question it when Lan Qiren turned his attention to them, and he and Lan Wangji approached. They gave their respects.

“Shufu, have you considered my request?” Lan Wangji asked, and Lan Qiren stroked his long, black beard for a few seconds.

“I have. But I have something I want you to see first, Wangji.” He reached into his sleeves, and took out something that looked like a translucent, carved crow. It suddenly moved, and made a small, empty caw.

A messenger talisman.

Lan Wangji held his hand out, and it drifted from Lan Qiren’s into Lan Wangji’s. His eyes flickered just a fraction wider, showing his surprise, in that understated Lan Wangji language, that Wei Wuxian was becoming quite fluent in.

He turned to Wei Wuxian, who held his hand out in turn. The messenger talisman flapped from Lan Wangji’s palm into his own.

I hope this message will reach Lan er-gongzi and Wei-gongzi. Please don’t worry about Lan-gongzi and Jiang-gongzi, I will help them escape. I promise.

“Wen Ning.” Wei Wuxian exclaimed.

Lan Qiren had folded his hands behind his back, “This message arrived during the conference this morning. I assume it’s from the young Wen from the half-demon branch of the family.”

Lan Wangji nodded once.

“You met the young man, Wangji, what do you make of this? Is it a distracting tactic?”

Lan Wangji didn’t answer directly, merely turned slightly to Wei Wuxian.

“Shufu, I’m unsure. Wei Ying…?”

Wei Wuxian felt the pressure. Lan Wangji allowed him to express his opinion, and whatever action was taken would probably grow from that. Three lives rested on his say.

And really, how well did he know Wen Ning? Not at all. What if what he seemed was purely an act? What if he’d been ordered to get close to them, and pretend to be a mild mannered, shy, yet kind, young man?

Was it better to be safe than sorry?

But if Wen Ning was being sincere, they could very well jeopardise any efforts he made by rushing in.

His nature being what it was, he wanted to pick up Suibian right now, and fly back to Qishan. He wasn’t made for passivity, for waiting and strategising. He was a man of action.

But his instincts told him Wen Ning could be trusted.

“I think his intentions are good.” Wei Wuxian said, finally.

“Wei Ying spent the most time with Wen Qionglin, Shufu.” Lan Wangji spoke in support.

Lan Qiren closed his eyes briefly.

“Xiongzhang is too precious to demons who feed on emotion for them to hurt him, Shufu.” It was the Lan Wangji version of comfort, and it seemed to work. Lan Qiren nodded.

“We wait, and watch the situation, then.”

Wei Wuxian could tell neither of them were entirely happy with that either, but all of them considered it currently the best chance their captured family had.

“Where are you taking me, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian demanded several hours later.

“The Cold Spring. It will help your wound heal.” Lan Wangji kept hold of his hand and continued to lead him through the Cloud Recesses and out into forest.

“I prefer hot springs, a cold one sounds barbaric.” Wei Wuxian mocked, and Lan Wangji ignored his tease.

“Wei Ying, the spring has healing properties, it is not for fun.”

“How very dull!”

They arrived at Lan Wangji’s intended destination, and he could feel the coolness the water exuded against his skin.

He knew the other reason Lan Wangji had dragged him here, and it was everything to do with the fact he hadn’t stopped pacing for the last hour.

He couldn’t help it though, he was twisted with thoughts of what would happen if he had made the wrong assessment of Wen Ning’s character, or what might happen if he hadn’t, but the other was caught. Couple that with his natural urge to be doing rather than waiting, and he was a mess of nerves.

Perhaps he could take his mind off things, however. He hadn’t done anything to keep Lan Wangji on his toes yet today.

Not for fun, eh?

He started to strip eagerly out of his robes, and Lan Wangji followed suit, stripping down to his pants.

Wei Wuxian didn’t stop there, however, and unfastened his own, pushing them down his hips to the delightful sound of the strangled breath the other took.

“Wei Ying!” Lan Wangji exclaimed.

“What, Lan Zhan?” he challenged the other, as he kicked his clothes away, and dipped a toe into the cold water. It was every bit as horrifically cold as he expected. He should say a prayer for little Xianxian, who was not going to like this one bit. “In Yunmeng we take our clothes off to bathe.”

Oh well, nothing ventured…

He plunged in, and all the breath was knocked out of his body at the shock of the water enclosing him.

“L-L-Lan Z-Zhan,” he managed to get out between the chattering of his teeth, “g-g-get in h-here a-and w-warm me up, n-n-now.”

Lan Wangji stayed frozen for a few more moments, before he finally broke out of his stupor. He reached for the ties of his own pants, taking them off, before joining Wei Wuxian in the water.

Here would have been his cue to cause trouble, but Wei Wuxian was still trying to process the fact that little Wangji was not actually little Wangji at all.

Some things just weren’t fair!

The other moved over to where a natural rock shelf created a seat, as if trying to create distance between them.

Was he embarrassed?

“T-That’s not warming me, L-Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian complained. He waded through the water, noticing how Lan Wangji tried to fix his eyes on anything else but the very naked body in front of him.

The other had no option but to acknowledge him when Wei Wuxian climbed astride his lap, however.

The other’s earlobes had turned pink, even in the frigid cold of the water, and he stopped looking at every other tree, rock and cloud visible, and moved his gaze onto Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian saw Lan Wangji visibly swallow as his eyes drifted down his pale chest, then drag back upwards guiltily at Wei Wuxian’s teasing; “My eyes are up here, Lan Zhan.”

“Wei Ying…” Lan Wangji’s voice sounded a little strangled, “...don’t play around, if you don’t mean it.” His large, surprisingly warm hands settled at Wei Wuxian’s waist, holding onto him, but lightly enough Wei Wuxian could pull away should he wish to.

“Who says I don’t mean it?” he asked challengingly, cupping Lan Wangji’s perfectly carved face in his hands. He leaned in and experimentally pressed his lips to the other’s.

He was, by no means, a practised kisser, but he liked to think he had consumed enough pornography to have a good idea of what was supposed to happen.

There was no surprise in this kiss, and he settled down to really appreciate the experience, as Lan Wangji followed his lead.

It was as enjoyable as he had been lead to believe it could be, the almost-rough glide of cool lips, and eventually, the teasing, yet shy, brush of tongues, was sweet and could very easily become addictive.

They spent quite a while locked together, but eventually they pulled apart, and Lan Wangji looked at him with heavily lidded eyes, before moving to place a row of gentle kisses along the line of his jaw.

“Wei Ying, we should go back, and see how Shufu wants us to help.”

He was, of course, correct. And it was safer for them all. Their relationship was new and tentative, and he wasn’t entirely sure where it was going, even if Lan Wangji was sure. Taking things further, even getting carried away in the heat of the moment, wasn’t advisable until they were sure they both wanted the same thing from whatever they were to each other, now and in the future.

He leaned down to press a kiss against Lan Wangji’s chin, then eased himself from the other’s lap.

“Do you understand?” Wen Ning asked, and Mo Xuanyu paused for a moment, before nodding slowly.

Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen sat a little away from the two, giving them time and space to get to grips with what Wen Ning demonstrated to his half-demon counterpart.

Jiang Cheng had no doubt Mo Xuanyu would be fine, he just lacked confidence in himself, something he sympathized with the other over, being very much the same himself.

Wen Ning was currently demonstrating to the other how to harness his demonic energy. The plan was to use it to break the cell door open some time overnight, giving Wen Ning opportunity to create himself an alibi, and not put his Jiejie at risk.

“I think I have it, A-Ning.” The other slipping into using the gentle, familiar form of address made sense, because, although Jiang Cheng didn’t doubt Wen Ning wasn’t a monster purely because of his half-demon heritage, (and his shitty relatives), the other surely wouldn’t put himself, and his sister, at risk for people so wholly unrelated to him as Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen.

A friend was another matter, however.

There was a sudden sound at the door to the cell, and a thrill of panic went through all four of them; Jiang Cheng didn’t wish Wen Ning to get into trouble for helping them, but it was too late to do anything about it.

The door swung open. Wen Qing strode in, unaccompanied, a package in her arms.

“A-Ning!” her voice was quiet, controlled, but full of anger.

“Jiejie!”

“I said not to get involved with them, didn’t I?”

“But Jiejie…”

“No, A-Ning, but nothing.” She unwrapped the package in her arms, and threw their swords to them, one by one.

“I’m sure the plan was to escape overnight, but Wen Xu has other plans for this evening for you. You leave now.” She took out a dagger then, and pointed the tip at Lan Xichen’s throat, “you will take my brother with you, and keep him safe. He risked himself for you, the least you can do is ensure his wellbeing.”

Jiang Cheng was about to protest at the knife placement, but she moved it suddenly and the collar around Lan Xichen’s throat was cut away, followed by Jiang Cheng’s.

It was such a relief to call on his qi again.

“I promise I’ll do whatever is in my power, Wen-guniang.” Lan Xichen promised, and as he rose to his feet he bowed to her.

“Don’t fail.” she snapped at him, then turned back to Wen Ning.

“Jiejie, what about you? If I leave you…”

“I will be fine, silly boy, you’re my weakness. I was never at risk, you are. Go, be careful. We’ll meet up again after this is all over.” her tone was more wistful than sure, however.

Wen Ning looked torn, but nodded eventually.

“I have everything under control here. There are no guards at the cave mouth in the new infirmary. Take them through the cellar exit to the city, A-Ning. Now go.” She pressed a quick kiss against his forehead, then turned to Jiang Cheng, “Keep off of your leg as much as possible, or you’ll cripple yourself for life, Jiang Wanyin.” And with that she was gone.

“She’s right, I’ll have to carry you, Wanyin.”

“What? Are you insane? How are we going to fight if we’re discovered? I’ll walk, and take the risk.”

“Jiejie has given us a free run to the outside of the city, Jiang-gongzi.” Wen Ning argued, and Lan Xichen bent to pick Jiang Cheng up.

“What are you doing? Are you deaf? I said I’d walk. Put me down, how shameless are you to be carrying me like this? How thick is your face?” Jiang Cheng squawked.

“Wanyin, do me the honour of shutting up and not arguing with me, just once in your life. I can put you down if we encounter trouble. Let’s not go looking for it, however. Wen-guniang is resourceful and incredibly intelligent, have a little faith.”

What could he say to that?

And indeed their path was unimpeded.

The cellar exit turned out to be an old smuggling passage, and lead through a damp, incredibly musty tunnel out of the city and into the surrounding forests.

“Just how are you so strong?” Jiang Cheng complained as Lan Xichen finally set him down on a rock to rest.

They daren’t pause too long, but plans had to be made.

“Handstands. Good for balance training too.” Lan Xichen said, looking around, trying to get his bearings with the sun and the mountains.

“Wanyin and I will slow you down. And they’re going to assume we’re going to head straight for Gusu, to protect me.” Lan Xichen dropped to his haunches, and looked at Wen Ning and Mo Xuanyu. “Also, I think they’re much less likely to focus on you, and be more interested in Wanyin and I. I think it would be safer for you both to go without us. You’ll move faster too, I would like to find somewhere nearby to lay up for a few days to give Wanyin’s leg a change to heal a little, now we can aid it along with cultivational healing. Then I think we should head to Qinghe, and ensure the Nies have been warned, as none of their disciples came to Qishan. It’s also the direction they’d least expect us to go, Gusu and Yunmeng are obvious, as, probably, is Meishan, as it’s well known who your mother’s people are.” He looked at Jiang Cheng when he made the comment, and really, Jiang Cheng felt stupid, as he had been about to suggest Meishan as an option, but Lan Xichen was correct, the Violet Spider’s marriage into the Jiang Sect from the Yu Sect was widely know. He nodded his agreement, when Lan Xichen put it like that, the Nie Sect was a sensible place to make for.

“We’ll go to Yunmeng, we have enough of a head start, before we’re found missing, and we’ll move quickly without Jiang-shixiong.” Mo Xuanyu declared. “No offence meant.”

“None taken.” Jiang Cheng reached into his robes and pulled out the letter he had received from his father, accepting Mo Xuanyu as a disciple. He handed it over. “Take this, to prove who you are. Let them know we’re fine, and will be contacting them in a few days from Qinghe. Tell Wei Wuxian to not do anything stupid, either. If he can possibly avoid it.” Jiang Cheng added gruffly, and Mo Xuanyu nodded, with a sly grin. He had spent enough time in the company of the brothers at the Nightless City to know, despite their words, they cared a lot for each other.

“I sent a message to Cloud Recesses, Jiang-gongzi, telling them I planned to help you, in hopes they wouldn’t rush right back and put themselves at risk.”

Wen Ning’s words were a salve to his worried mind. He nodded gratefully. “Thank you. You should go, every second counts now.”

The other two set off after their goodbyes were made.

“Can we not leave for Qinghe now?” Jiang Cheng asked, pushing himself upright and resting his weight on his uninjured leg.

“No, Wanyin. We’re both exhausted, it will be much easier after a day or so of rest, then I can fly us both there on Shuoyue.”

That made Jiang Cheng feel guilty, of course most of the work would fall on Lan Xichen again, like it had carrying him out of the city, in order to save his leg.

“I can fly myself, honestly, Xichen.”

“We’re still in the doing me the honour of not arguing with me phase of the escape, Jiang Wanyin. When we get to Qinghe you’re released from the stipulation.”

He felt that irrational flare of annoyance again, but tamped it down.

Lan Xichen was entirely correct.

He was picked up again, despite his protests that he could walk, and Lan Xichen went in search of a place for them to hide.

#How Shall We Stop Dreams AU #wangxian #xicheng #the untamed fanfic #the untamed #mdzs #mdzs fanfic #mo dao zu shi #mo dao zu shi fanfic #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #serialised #wei wuxian #lan wangji #lan xichen #jiang cheng #wen ning #wen qing #mo xuanyu #lan qiren

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joeymozzarello · 4 years

Text

Pen to Paper

Chapter Seven

Summary: A simple thesis on a simple book she’d read. That’s all she needed to do. She knew it would be at least a little bit arduous but she didn’t think it would cause this much trouble.

Pairing: Tim Murphy x original female character

Words: 1,511

A/N: i wrote part of this chapter on the same day i wrote chapter one. i’ve been waiting to post it for so long, i hope you enjoy<3

“It was a mistake,” Julie said, voice full of regret, trying not to cry. “I shouldn’t have done it, it was a mistake--” Tim stepped forward, hand on his chin, staring down at the mess Julie had made. He took a breath in, opened his mouth, and then closed it shut. “I’m dead. I’m dead. This is it, Americans still have the death penalty, right? I’m dead.”

Tim sighed. “You’re being dramatic. It’s not that bad--” he paused and then looked back at her, scrunching his face. “Okay, it’s kinda bad, but you’ll be fine, I’m sure it’s happened before.”

Julie gave him the deadest look she could muster. “Have you ever printed seven hundred pages of porn from a company printer?” Julie pointed at the printer (which was still going) and the paper spewed out on the floor, showing some very graphic images. “Not only is this a disgrace but I have managed to singlehandedly kill the environment,” she fell into a chair and dropped her face in her hands. Tim held back a giggle as he walked to the back of the printer and unplugged it.

He sat next to her with a grin on his face. “So you clicked on a link from a spam email. Lots of baby boomers have done that--” Julie looked up and hit his arm. Tim started laughing, that most comfortable she’d ever seen him, basking in her embarrassment.

“It’s not funny!” She hit him again.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He giggled. “I just can’t believe you didn’t think about unplugging it in the first place,” he smiled at her so you could see all of his teeth. I could punch him right now-- or kiss him, I could do that too-- she stopped that thought right in its tracks. They hadn’t talked about that night, not one word, and Julie was lowkey glad. She couldn’t handle rejection and she definitely couldn’t handle a relationship, or worse, she was shit scared she was going to end up being a casual love affair-- that would be worse than rejection. So she ignored the fact that it even happened.

“I froze, okay? I freaked out!”

Tim picked up the pages and looked at them, tilting his head. Julie knotted her eyebrows and then hit him again. “Stop hitting me!” There was laughter in his voice but his face was pensive. “What if we give it to the homeless? I’m sure they aren’t getting any--” he dodged another hit. “Alright fine, what do you wanna do with these?”

Julie hung her head in shame. “I don’t know! Shred them, forget this day ever happened,” she sighed. Tim shrugged.

“Alright, whatever you say,” he started collecting the sheets from the ground. “It’s a shame we can’t even use it as scrap paper.”

“Haha, very funny, Timothy,” she rolled her eyes and begun picking things up.

They shredded every bit of paper they’d printed and strangely enough, what she felt most guilty about was the waste of paper. Oh environment Gods, please don’t kill me. She didn’t say this to Tim, he would’ve just made fun of her and she couldn’t handle that right now.

It took two hours.

“What’s the time?” Julie asked, fanning herself with her hand. The heating was too far up and she was wearing a wooly jumper. Tim came up from behind her and patted her hair, an action that felt so intimate somehow. She bit her lip to stop herself saying anything stupid.

“It’s almost four,” he said, walking around her towards his desk. He wasn’t looking at her. “Hey, do you wanna go get ice cream or something?”

“It’s November,” she brushed a hand through her fringe to get it out of her eyes, it flicked back as soon as she let go.

“So?” He turned around and leaned back on his desk, playing with a ball of rubber bands, his auburn hair glistening in the dim lighting of the room, his eyes screaming trouble.

“Isn’t that against the rules?”

“When have we ever followed the rules?”

~+~

Julie spoke through a mouthful of ice cream, a smile taking up most of her face, desperately trying to put it away so she could swallow her food. “You’re the worst when it comes to detail, you speak in generalizations only,” she chuckled. Tim gave her a playful gasp with a hand over his chest. “It’s true!” she shut her eyes. “I bet you don’t even know what color my eyes are.”

Tim was silent. Blue, he wanted to say, of course, they’re blue. They’re as blue as the cleanest ocean and the clearest sky. They’re crystal clear and they give everything away. Every glint of excitement, every annoying thought, everything. How could I ever miss the color of your eyes, the depth of your stares, the warmth of your thoughts? How could I ever? Instead, with a sad smile on his face, he said, “I dunno, green? A hazel-y color?”

She opened her eyes with a loud laugh pointing at her eyes and twisting her face. “Come on, Tim, they’re blue, the easiest color to remember!” She took another spoonful of her ice cream. “I guess I was right, you’re not that observant after all,” she smiled.

The past week had been torture for Tim Murphy. He saw Julie every day, he watched her as she awkwardly stumbled past his office, as she took everyone’s coffee order, as she laughed at the librarian’s unfunny jokes and as she pretended nothing happened between the two of them. He wanted to say something, every day he built himself up to talk to her and ask her what it all meant, if it meant anything at all, if he wasn’t the only one to feel all those squirmy feelings every time he saw her, only to then crumble at the sight of her.

He watched her tuck her hair behind her ear as she licked some ice cream from the corner of her mouth, his stomach flipped. He swallowed, pulling his eyes away from her and back to his little cone. He cleared his throat. “So have you figured out your financial situation, yet?” He asked as kindly as he could but he was sure that somehow it came out wrong. “I mean-- if you’re okay with sharing, I just wanted to make sure that, um...”

She put her hand on his shoulder. God, he was being so awkward. “You’re fine,” she grinned. “My dad transferred me some money that should help till the end of the month, but I have to go back to England for Christmas-- those were his terms,” she shrugged. He tried not to look disappointed. Not because he wasn’t happy about her being back on her feet and being able to eat a full meal but-- he didn’t know why.

“That’s good,” he said passively, with the fakest smile on his face.

She tilted her head with a confused look on her face. “Are you sure bout that, buddy?” She teased. His face flushed. “But thank you for asking. It’s good to have a friend here, you had me scared at the beginning, I thought you didn’t like me,” Julie did that thing where she bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from feeling awkward.

Friend.

F r i e n d.

Tim took a half breath in and laughed. “Hang on, hang on, who said we were friends? Who told you I liked you?”

“Oh? Oh my gosh, I must’ve gotten you confused with--” she paused. “Shit! Are you not Bill Nye the Science Guy? I thought I was hanging with him! I’m so sorry to bother you, sir,” they both burst out laughing at how stupid that was.

“My, oh my, that was tragic,” he wiped a fake tear. Just like that, she made him feel so light and--

She looked at her phone. “Holy shit, is that the time?” Her eyes were wide. “Tim you have a meeting in six minutes! The head of the department is coming in just for this!” Tim dropped his spoon just as his stomach dropped-- he didn’t know if it was nerves or if it was because their hang out was being cut short.

Julie picked up her bag, and pulled Tim’s arm. “Come on, man, we gotta go!” She tugged at him as he picked up his jacket and then they were off.

Tim and Julie ran a ten-minute walk in under six minutes.

They got to the conference room meeting just as they were about to shut the door. Dr Connors was already in there, eyeing the two of them and she mouthed ‘hurry up’ as she saw Tim.

He was about to go in when Julie stopped him by grabbing his sleeve. “Look at me,” she said, a very serious look on her face. She licked her thumb and wiped the corner of his mouth. “There ya go, perfect.”

Tim walked into the conference room, his heart beating faster than he ever thought it could.

Masterlist

#dr tim murphy #Tim Murphy #tim murphy au #jurassic park #jurassic world #joe mazzello #joe mazzello au

18 notes · View notes

thepilotanon · 4 years

Text

Prelude xxi

...to the forever promise {masterlist}

Heyyy everyone! I’m so sorry this has taken such a long time. I have been very busy with life, so I apologize for the delay of this chapter. But, good news, we only have one more until it’s over!! Thank you everyone who has been patient with me, and I can’t wait to see what you all think of this - it’s a very, very long chapter, so please let me know what you thought! As well, despite the last film having been released, I’m still going to write stuff for Kylo.

warning: none!

“Constructing lightsabers have been an ancient custom for whoever is gifted with the Force, and thus should be taken into consideration that this marks the next step of your place among the First Order - among my ranks, which is a great honor for you.”

Never had the Supreme Leader spoken those kinds of words to Kylo Ren, even as he stood beside the stairs leading up to the throne, where the humanoid sat and watched fondly to the woman down bellow. She wasn’t focused on Snoke, however, and more on the many nuts and bolts, metal material and wires scattered around on the black-polished floor. With little twists of her fingers and eyes hazed over in concentration, the numerous materials floated around either of the Kyber rocks resting on each of her palms. Nova was completely ignoring Snoke’s speech, and Kylo kept his eyes locked on her form just sitting there, minding her own business as she worked.

When Nova revealed her findings of being attracted to two Kyber crystals, Kylo felt a large swell of pride in his chest as his lover held them out to him, excited and eager to try and construct the hilt - or hilts - depending on what she could create with everything that was given to her. Seeing her wrapped in the assorted blankets and sheets, topped with his thick cape around her shoulders, Kylo praised her with tender kisses and proud words of how wonderful she did on her own - albeit him still being scared beyond belief during the time of their separation. There was a lot worth celebrating, and both Kylo and Nova enjoyed their time before lifting off.

But...as soon as she returned to the Supremacy, cleaned of their events and getting rid of any evidence of their coupling, Nova wasn’t excited in showing her findings to the Supreme Leader. Despite his eerie grin and curling his fingers under her chin to force eye contact, to congratulate her, Nova immediately became that closed-off, emotionless being that she fronts to Snoke ever since that first day. For Kylo, he was glad that Nova was able to hide the littlest twist of her hips and staggered steps that they both noticed during their rest.

No matter how gentle his massaged her pelvic area and asked if she was in any sort of discomfort or pain at all, she remained completely passive and happy with her current condition, not at all worried. He had her walk around the shuttle, just to be sure she wasn’t obviously limping or showing signs in similar ways for some other women who were more active, and saw that it wasn’t connected. Thankfully, seeing her only shifting in her spot when she wanted to see a piece amongst the pile, the Supreme Leader didn’t seem to notice any discomfort or change in the woman. By the sight of her being her usual, curious self with all the new materials given to her, she appeared to be just her usual (although rather tempered) self around everyone else. Kylo was thankful of how powerful Nova’s Force wall was, too.

As of now, Kylo can only wait until they returned to their chambers. However, he was much more entranced by the how lovely she looked in the spacious lighting with the stars twinking from the window behind her, her eyes focused on the tiny pieces coming together with just a twitch of her fingers, a turn of her wrists. Whenever a piece didn’t click together like she wanted, her lips formed a small pout as she attempted to redirect it a different way. She was so focused and being so careful with the materials provided to her, it was obvious how both Kylo and Snoke were surprised by her intense display of concentration and determination to build.

Lifting the two little rocks from her palms, Nova used the Force to slip the colorless minerals into the tiniest crack left from the puzzle pieces of nuts, plates and bolts. The last of the flat, metal plates slid and lock into place before dropping to each of her hands with a sort of childish triumph. Nova grinned, unlacing her legs and dropping her feet flat on the polished floor while looking at the two hilts with curious, amused eyes.

Seeing her observe her own creations, Snoke leaned back in his throne with a sort of relief. “A lightsaber made from the Kyber rock the Force-user has found on their own, this symbolizes a rite of passage to becoming even more stronger than anyone else,” he mentioned while Nova got to her feet. Seeing her test the weight of the hilts in each hand and finding that comfortable grip to hold it properly - just the same way Kylo demonstrated with his own lightsaber for her, the Supreme Leader stared with a smirk.

“And being drawn to two Kyber crystals, purely rare, but not unwelcome when it comes from you, young one,” Snoke added casually, his tone laced with his own amusement that didn’t go unnoticed by the two apprentices.

“Nova,” Snoke beckoned both apprentices’ attention to him as he focused on the young woman, “present yourself as an official apprentice to the Supreme Leader, and claim your rightful place by my side in the First Order.”

She only returned a simple blink. No emotion, no praise or beaming smiles directed towards Snoke, like she would with Kylo. Glancing back to the lightsaber hilts in her hands, Nova focused her energy to ignite the blades. Since it seems that she didn’t construct a casual switch on the outside of the plate, Kylo could see that she took notes from the encyclopedia book he let her see; should anyone get ahold on her ‘saber, they would at least have to have abilities with the Force to use it. Kylo felt proud behind the concealment of his helmet with the little tricks and notes she made while studying.

A flicker of just a pinch of her power, the blades ignited with its first spark with a rather joyous attitude - as if the Kyber crystals inside were just itching to come out. Dazzling silver sparked through the portholes of the hilt, perfectly coordinated in a straight line while Nova’s grip tightened from the surprising noise erupting from her new ‘sabers. A soft noise slipped from her, signaling her own amusement to the beautiful silver and white blending perfectly together in unison.

Kylo was also impressed by the brilliant glow, but one, lone creature didn’t seem to pleased by the contrast to the dark tiles and dark universe outside of the large glass windows.

“How plain,” Snoke drawled with a frown. “Silver-white is just so empty in general, I don’t doubt it comes from how you lack anything in your head. Your crystals must respond from your thoughts in general. This is disappointing; I was hoping for something more rare from you, but I suppose it will make due until we can have another one made.”

“I like them!” the woman protested with strong confidence, giving the Supreme Leader a shrug. “I don’t want another one.”

Snoke tilt his head, eyeing Nova with a stern glare while she gave each lightsaber a testing twirl of her wrists, one at a time. “When you encounter an enemy, you would want them to feel intimidated, realizing that the person who has appeared to battle them is someone to be reckoned with; red is most commonly associated with those who hold great power and bring fear.”

“When you encounter an enemy,” Nova replied easily, “the way you fight and have an advantage of skill and experience are much more impactful, over simple things, like appearances or what color your weapons are.”

When Snoke didn’t respond, Nova only then offered him a smile while she deactivated her lightsabers, bringing them to her chest as a sure promise that she is indeed keeping them. “Not to question from your own experiences, Snoke, but I think these lightsabers, from the Kyber crystals that I was called to, will suffice until I say so.”

Kylo watched with all stillness within him, between the two, unsure of what to do or what was going to happen, if he needed to shield Nova. Slowly, Snoke’s whole body seemed to relax, considering her words carefully with a thoughtful stare. Long fingers drum along his armrest, the Supreme Leader leaned back against the thick cushioning of his throne, pale eyes darting away from the young woman to look out to the vast scenery of stars and distant planets. Kylo watched with a drawn line to his lips as the half-humanoid reached to lightly scratch at one of the many tendons stretching along his irregular neck. Seeming to be now bored with the presence and voices beside his own, Snoke closed his eyes and waved his hand with a bored pace.

“So be it, if that is what seems befitting for you, young Nova.”

xxx.

As such, as same as it was when Nova held Kylo’s lightsaber so long ago, Nova was just as strong and powerful wielding her own - if not more with a weapon fashioned to fit her perfectly.

Whether it was with one or two lightsabers, as the Supreme Leader would command that she would use however many, Nova seemed to have it down to the last detail of aiming to destroy every training droid provided as well as knock any opponent unconscious. Even with Snoke giving her direct orders to slay her living sparring partners, she simply would ignore him and claim her win by pinning them with her abilities. Kylo never reprimanded Nova over that, even in the safety of their quarters. Kylo knew her morals compared to his own among the First Order, especially if she can teach her sparring partner how to learn from their mistakes. Even when Snoke had Kylo and Nova spar against each other, it would normally come out to a draw, or go too long for the Supreme Leader’s liking to seek out a winner. They promised each other not to hold back, when fighting against each other, so long as they promise to help tend to each other’s bruises and burns with affection.

Whenever they would return, Kylo would take her hands in both of his and bring them to his mouth. Pressing kisses to each of her palms, each finger, he would look deep in her eyes and whisper, “You did well today.” Nova’s only response would just be a glittering smile before slipping her hands around the back of his head and neck, then pulling him down for a kiss that spoke the same sentiment, and more.

There were times when it wasn’t as such. Training had gone too long and too hard for either of them, and it takes to walking through the threshold to finally break down and expose their worst selves that they hide from everyone else. A mission Kylo was sent to deal in the Supreme Leader’s place had gone wrong, and it was the said instructor who placed all the blame to his first apprentice for his lack of planning. Nova was emotionally strained by Snoke’s constant pressure of her origins and bleeding bad memories of her old life during meditations, in the meantime of waiting for Kylo to return. Both of them worn down to the point that they just lie on the cold ground of either one’s quarters, and Kylo found himself reaching to check if her pulse was calming down at all, despite his body hating the motion. They both suffered together, yes, but there were still many times that they had separate training sessions with the Supreme Leader, and it was always a reopened wound. To them, no matter how bad it would be, bruises and bleeding and crying, they had comfort with one another...

Sometimes - just sometimes - Kylo Ren will have days where he just can’t take seeing another face or be around others who don’t understand how he needed some sort of comfort.

As soon as Kylo was dismissed, he marched into his quarters. Inside, without even needing to check, he knew Nova was waiting for him - having been training the Knights and doing her own sort of schedule that day, while Kylo was at Snoke’s beck and call since he awoke that cycle. Their morning departure was quick, but Nova made sure to assure him through their wall that she will wait for him to come home.

As promised, Nova was waiting on her toes, hopping a little bit, as she was ready to practically pounce onto Kylo’s arms as soon as he walked in. Taking the first steps towards his towering form, ready to welcome him back, Nova stopped when she sensed the immediate negative emotions building up underneath all those layers of armor and his heavy mask.

Frowning, Nova approached him and kept her gaze locked up to his hidden face beneath the dark shield. Raising her hands, she waited patiently to be granted permission. Once Kylo tilt his helmet more towards her way, she hooked her thumbs under each side, causing it to hiss to properly unlock, carefully lifting it off his head. Thick, dark locks spilled and tired, sad eyes stared back to her sparkling ones; his jaw tense and teeth grinding, his breathing was at a proper pace, yet held a sort of stiffness of holding back on the inside. Brows narrowed, Kylo was as tight and taut as a freshly woven basket and glued together with the strongest of material. He was sweaty from training and punishment, tired, yet completely alert to everything, despite being hidden from the rest of the galaxy. He can’t hide anything from her, and he didn’t want to.

Setting the helmet aside, the woman then undid the hard clasp of his cloak, allowing it to fall to the ground before taking his hands to remove his gloves. When she finished with that, Nova then leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him and buried her face into his clothed chest. Inhaling the scent of metal, sweat and warmed leather, she pushed through the Force to expand her wall, allowing Kylo to feel it grow thicker and stronger over them both, like a blanket. Closing her eyes, Nova nuzzled into him and listened to his heartbeat.

“Please,” she whispered, voice soft and sweet and vibrating into his bones like a sweet relief, “can you show me?”

Closing his eyes, Kylo willingly showed her what started the weight on his shoulders, when Snoke criticized his planning for a future mission and going over maps and locations. Tangling his naked hands through her fingers and holding on, Kylo showed her his intended plan to take the Knights and a small squadron of Stormtroopers through a specific route, only to be slammed by Snoke with the Force to the floor, being called a thousand and one names of stupidity and how it was a direct walk to their deaths by hidden dugouts...that was never mentioned on the map to begin with. An instant failure and mockery towards the First Order. Afterwards, Snoke pushed and pushed him through vigorous training beyond the point of straining his muscles and nerves to set on fire, nearing to the point of collapsing from exhaustion. Every word hanging over his head like fireworks, sparking another layer-after-layer of hatred for himself, echoing constantly.

Nova could feel every bit of pain and internal displeasure of himself; over everything he hasn’t even done, but it was all set in stone by the Supreme Leader instead, taking over Kylo’s conscience.

She didn’t like that one bit.

Everything was becoming too much for him. He felt worthless outside of his quarters, and he was sick of it. Leaning back and reaching with his hand, he tilt her chin up, his thumb tracing her bottom lip. “Will you tell me about your day?” His voice was quiet, yet their close proximity had Nova feel it under her skin. “From the very beginning, everything.”

Nova leaned into his clammy palm, cuddling into it. “Yes.” She tugged on his thick-padded top and gave him a soft smile. “In the bath?”

Hot, scented water and his lover’s hands massaging his scalp, Kylo wanted nothing more than to freeze time and remain melted in the tub. The shampoo smelled herbal with a hint of fruitiness, making his eyelids feel heavy and the sound of Nova speaking to him helped him feel at ease. Her hands touched the spots where Snoke hit him on the head and pushed headaches, her fingers caress the back of his neck and shoulders to remove the suds, and he pressed himself further to her touch. She practically erased every discomfort with a simple touch.

“I learned about the planet called Endor, while I was waiting for you,” she said with a rather proud voice, and Kylo knew she was. She always felt a swell of joy and achievement in learning something new, and Kylo always praised her when she discovered something new. For her to try and go further into her own knowledge about the galaxy is still a lot for her to take in, but Kylo adored her dedication and joy of discovery. “The main planet itself is uninhabitable, but, from what I read, the moons are known to contain life! They have forests on the moons. There’s one called Sistermoon, and Endor’s Forest Moon, which I don’t...understand why they don’t call that Endor you can live on that.”

“They also call Endor’s Forest Moon Endor, as well,” he responded with an amused hum. “Either one, majority of people will know which one you’re talking about, my love.”

“Oh!” Discovering this new-new information, Nova smiled and helped Kylo rinse his hair. “Well then, I also learned about the creatures that live on Endor, called Ewoks. They’re the majority of the planet’s civil population. They’re apparently short, yet fierce and rarely fear anything to survive.”

Kylo hummed, turning in the tub and carefully taking hold of her with gentle hands. Bringing her closer to him within the steaming water, he brought her to sit on his lap and held her face within his large hands. She smiled bigger, holding his wrists when she booped her nose against his for a moment.

“I would like to see Endor,” she told him honestly. “Someday, maybe, and maybe meet an Ewok and see how they live naturally. It would be interesting to learn how they survived for so long with much bigger predators.”

“They’re not as bright, but they are smart enough to survive.” Seeing how her eyes brightened, the corner of his lips twitched upward as he leaned back against the tub, letting her tangle their fingers and press their palms together. “Fuzzy little demons, really hold no mercy towards anyone or anything they’re not familiar with; they will certainly try to see if you’re something edible, or to be feared.”

“You’ve seen them?”

Kylo swallowed and looked down to the water between them, unsure of how to go on with the conversation taking a direction he didn’t want to go. Feeling his lover’s hands squeeze his lightly, Kylo wasn’t expecting her to tuck herself under his chin and press little kisses to his throat before nuzzling against him.

“Maybe we can see them together, when we’re not busy someday, and we’re next to the planet.” Her voice was gentle, refusing to push him to look back to his memories of him as a child, his parents bringing him to to meet a particular fuzzball named Wicket and his family - all while Snoke’s taunts echoed in the back of his mind of how weak-minded he was.

Nova’s lips pressed to his pulse, and Kylo stroked his wet fingertips against the short strands at the nape of her neck, where the rest of her hair was tied up to avoid getting wet. “Someday?”

Closing his eyes, he thought about the idea of his Nova trying to communicate with an Ewok, more than likely wanting to hold their spears. The idea of it made him cough a small laugh. “Yes, we can do that,” he agreed. “Someday.”

“I’ve worked with many spears and more primitive-type weapons,” she went on, “but I would find it more honorable to meet one of them, and then be given permission to hold it. They seem to be very proud of their creations, like they can do anything together. What do you think?”

Nodding, Kylo let her run one of her hands up and down his naked chest, freshly washed and finally calmed down with just a simple bath and letting her speak to him. Leaning down, he caught her lips with his own and kissed her slowly. Taking the time to move, to taste each other with the thanks of the humidity from the steam and the scented oils of the bathwater, they both parted with a soft sighs. Nova appeared in a happy daze from long kisses, eyes closed and a sleepy smile on her face while he wrapped his arms around her naked form. A quick, soft kiss to her shoulder, Kylo rest his head on the same spot and exhaled long and deep.

“I think you’re right.”

xxx.

Waking up before the holoclock were to go off, Kylo reached over with one arm to switch the alarm off before it could make any noise within the next minute, then rolled over. Dragging the same arm over with sluggish effort, he wrapped the limb around the blanketed body curled underneath, burying his nose into Nova’s hair and sighing heavily. Feeling her body shift underneath the blanket, Kylo did his best to keep her within his embrace once she turned around to face him. Hearing her sniff and nuzzle her way into a warm pocket underneath his chin, he slowly stroked her back with his thumb. They both really enjoyed the warmth they create together in the otherwise chilly bedchamber.

She spoke in a very quiet voice, still lined with sleepiness, with an excited wiggle. “Is it time to get up?”

“In a little while,” he responded, sinking further into the bed and bringing her along. “We’re not needed until mid-cycle.”

Feeling her hips rock and a warm palm press against his naked chest, Kylo rolled to his back and allowed Nova to crawl up to straddle him. He made sure the blanket didn’t fall off her body, so she remained warm, his hands keeping her steady and sliding his thumbs under her night shirt to caress her skin affectionately.

Sitting with a straight back, Nova gave him a gentle smile. “I’m excited,” she told him matter-of-factly, her little hands coming to rest on his forearms while he took a deep breath, a very small smile on his face. “I’m very excited.”

“I know,” Kylo responded much more softly, his hands rising up to trace the curves of her side and the faint scars around her ribs. “I’m excited, too. But, you need to remember, it’s still too early to be up and roaming around for a mission.”

This made her wrinkle her nose a bit, but smile bigger. “I know.” Relaxing a bit, the woman leaned forward and propped her chin on the back of her hand, her eyes shimmering from the lights of distant stars while gazing at him sweetly. “Do you think they will care about how we’re dressed? I don’t think it matters much, does it? But, there are also so many other kinds…so much in the galaxy. It’s all different and overwhelming.”

Kylo leisurely stroked her spine, yawning before answering her. “Would you prefer not to go?” he asked, a hint of teasing that she instantly caught. He didn’t bother to hide his smallest smirk when he raised her head to look at him. “Based on the fact that you’re unsure of how you’re dressed.”

Grasping his head to keep him still, Nova bit down in the skin that connected between his neck and shoulder. She could feel the vibrations of his chuckle and his big, warm hands sliding down to grab her bottom and suddenly rolling them over so he was on top. Nova threw her head back against a pillow to try and hide her laughter. With her pressed against the mattress, she felt giddy when Kylo pushed his nose and mouth against her pulse on her neck, tickling her with nuzzles and kisses and soft bites. Wrapping her arms around him, Nova made herself small in his hold and soaked in his warmth. Hands tangled in his hair, she sighed and relaxed in his hold while he did all the work to have her submit to him.

“I want to go,” she told him, voice soft. “I want to go right now, and see it all.”

Kissing under her jaw, Kylo hummed against her softly, resting all his weight on her in a sort of comfort that kept her stable from her excitement. “You will, I promise. You just need to be patient and wait for the rest of the crew to come up and ready to go. Remember, this is a usual search-and-retrieve mission.”

“Do not tell me you’re not excited, too,” she mumbled, leaning her head against his and closing her eyes. One of his big hands detangled hers out of his hair and laced their fingers against the pillow, and he turned his head to press his nose to her cheek, kissing the spot a few times. “You want to go as much as I do, Kylo.”

“Yes, but I know how to maintain patience.”

Nova hummed softly, squeezing her hold on his hand while the other slipped to his naked back. There was a thick layer of bacta glued to his back, stretching from the curve of his shoulder and down the side of his spine; gentle fingertips touched the bruised skin beside the material, stroking his lower ribs.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

Kylo took a deep breath. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure -?” Caught off by him pulling her into a kiss, Nova made a soft noise of disappointment when he pulled back and sat up from the bed. Watching him leave the bed and approaching his closet to pull out his usual armor from their orderly place, Nova wrapped herself with the dark blanket and sat up.

Seeing him put on his undershirt on first, Nova blew air into her cheeks when he covered his back and bacta patches from her view. She knew how he obtained the wound from Snoke, and how it was uncomfortable for him to relax on his back for a good long while - even trying to bend forward or back was a hassle. The new weaponry given to the Praetorian Guards, gifted by Snoke and his personal craftsmen experimenting with plasma blades, were new to everyone. Letting Nova have firsthand to inspect and decide how they would play out, Snoke then pushed Kylo into the fighting pit for a test run before she could even suggest anything to reduce any physical harm…

Kylo came out victorious, winning with his life and a new wound to heal into a faded scar.

“Nova.”

Getting up from the bed, Nova stood with the blanket wrapped around her shoulders as he approached. Allowing him to hold her face with both hands, Nova looked up to meet his gaze with a small smile on her lips. Resting his forehead to hers, he showed her how he was relaxed on the inside, that the wound was no longer bothering him in the slightest, thanks to the bacta patch she generously placed on him.

“It’s nothing,” he whispered, his voice holding so much more emotion than his face could expose. She looked further through the Force, just to make sure, and this action caused him to chuckle under his breath.

“It’s nothing,” she agreed, earning her a kiss. “But you will tell me, if it is?”

“Of course.” A pinch of a smirk on his lips, Kylo flicked a stand of her hair out of her forehead. “Besides, I could never hide anything from you, even if I tried, and you know that. You’re too powerful for me to hide anything.”

“I’m not powerful.” she rebuked with a flushed expression, her eyes watering for a moment and pushing herself to hide her face into his pectorals. Letting him hold her close and press his mouth to her hair, Nova closed her eyes and hugged him back tightly. “But, you can’t hide anything.”

“No, I can’t. Not from you,” he murmured to her and she felt herself warm under her skin. She was blushing, and he knew it. Kylo was finding this entirely amusing, teasing her, and she bit him through the thin material of his undershirt, right on his chest. He chuckled and gently took hold of her face in one of his big hands and lifted her gaze up to him, forcing eye contact until she smiled from the silly situation.

He kissed between her brows before letting her go. “Go on and get ready. I’ll see you in a while.”

Nova didn’t take long to get ready, dressing herself along with a cowl and coat (as per instruction from both Kylo and the Supreme Leader), she did her braid perfectly and took off out of the secluded quarter hall to catch BB-9E and another droid rolling by, instantly getting her attention as she turned her body completely around and kept up the pace in a single line with the two rolling robots. She greeted the usual officers who strode past her in the early morning of the cycle, until nearly tripping over the specific droid Phasma worked alongside with.

BB-9E blipped and whirred, turning its head around, allowing the other droid to continue on while Nova gave it a bright smile. “Hi, Niney,” she greeted, crouching down in the middle of the hallway to its level. “How are you doing today?”

The droid made a low hum before doing a few circles around her crouched form before properly responding. None of the officers passing by gave her a second glance, so used to her speaking to that particular BB unit. “Yes, I have a mission today; I’m going to be going with Kylo, the Knights and Phasma with a few of her ‘troopers I’ve helped train, as an extra support.” BB-9E made a few beeps and Nova nodded. “It’s to the planet of Coruscant, yes. Snoke wants us to go to a palace. I’ve never been to a palace before…��

Seeing her think more to herself for the moment, BB-9E beeped for her attention and beckoned for her to follow. It led her towards the mess hall to get something to eat before having to leave, refusing to let her leave until she grabbed a hunk of baked bread and ate half of it before being allowed - continuing to munch on the bread as she followed the droid.

“You’re not coming with?” she asked next, holding a casual conversation with a droid while a couple officers gave her a second glance with how she treated such a random astromech tool like it was an actual living being. BB-9E, despite its usual strict-to-work attitude, responded to her anyway. “That’s too bad. Maybe you can come with us someday, Niney. It would be fun to have you come along.”

BB-9E made a retort-sounding whirr that made her grin. “No, you’re fun to me. You always let me play with you and the other droids.” Another single beep. “You would be told to remain in the ship? What if we needed navigation on a planet?” A beep and a low hum. “Depends on the planet… I guess, I really don’t know much about droids. Will you explain it more to me, when I come back?”

The astromech droid made a response before rolling off to begin its duties within the hangar of the Supremacy, leaving Nova to look around the area to the mechanics starting up with their first check-ins and tune-ups ready to be worked on. Some stormtroopers where already up and about, minus the few Nova recognizes from their signatures from her lessons, Captain Phasma having them stand in a lineup all properly.

Seeing Phasma, Nova was quick to hurry over and press her hands on the Captain’s forearm, grinning excitedly. “Good morning, Phasma!” she said loud enough to let the whole hangar know she had arrived. Then, looking to the ‘troopers, Nova offered them a polite smile to them. “Good morning to you all, too. How are you all doing today?”

Knowing they weren’t going to verbally respond, Nova smiled at them again before looking to the shuttle they were to take. Seeing that it was Kylo’s command shuttle, she felt a sort of excitement of getting to get out of the Supremacy and onto a more civilized planet with people she has grown used to being around. Looking over the shuttle itself, she began wandering around the hangar, seeing the droids and mechanics finish the last pieces of the check-ins before the pilot is to take off, allowing Phasma to continue on with her routine before Kylo and the Knights to arrive.

Knowing what today is suppose to hold for her, Nova couldn’t contain the big grin to hide in the collar of her coat; getting to see a new planet that she’s only heard about from stories, and looking to people’s memories of it, and now getting to make something special for herself to keep. Perhaps, maybe, she could share her own story with trustworthy people someday, but she knew better that right now it wasn’t the right time to let too many people know regardless.

Still, remembering that this is the very same shuttle that picked her up from Bavva III, a part of her couldn’t really believe how much her own life had changed.

Reaching out to poke the sheen material of the shuttle, Nova snickered to herself when a familiar leather glove grasped her shoulder. Leaning her head back with a bright smile, she caught Kylo’s visors looking at her with a rather questionable tilt of his head.

“What are you doing?” he asked her, and she could imagine him raising his brows at her behavior.

Looking to the side to see the Knights of Ren waiting for Captain Phasma to load her squad first, Nova turned around to face him. “Do they always clean and polish your shuttle before every job you go on? I don’t see a single scratch on it, and I know this spacecraft has been on many planets that are not clean.” As if to make a point, she reached over behind her and pressed the pad of her finger on the outer wall and slid her finger a bit, causing a small squeak to erupt and her amusement to spark. “See! It’s super clean and polished. Do you request that your shuttle has to be polished after every use? Is it your favorite?”

“The shuttle is convenient to carry more supplies and people, if necessary. It doesn’t quite make it a favorite of mine,” he explained simply, only because she asked him. “You should get onboard, so we can go on ahead and leave.”

Nova’s eyes narrowed playfully as she let Kylo gently guide by her shoulder towards the loading ramp. “You still didn’t answer my question, if they have to clean and shine your shuttle every time you use it.”

Within his helmet, Kylo smirked and rolled his eyes. He urged her once more to go and join the Knights and Phasma. Snickering, she followed his silent instruction, allowing him to escort her the couple feet over. “I’ll have to let you know, when the time is more appropriate for this conversation, Nova,” he told her. With a little, gentle nudge to her lower back, he waited until she mounted the ramp at the sight of Phasma’s chrome plating. “And, now is not the proper time.”

“Yeah, I know,” she hummed with a roll of her eyes, jumping onto the ledge of the threshold. “But you promise you’ll answer later.”

Kylo knew he didn’t really have a choice in the matter, allowing the shuttle door to close in time for Nova to take her seat right next to Phasma, chatting away, and make his own quick pace to the cockpit to take-off from the hangar and in the direction of the illuminated planet.

xxx.

The Imperial Palace itself was someplace that held a lot of history, and Nova knew this once she caught sight of the building adorning withering tapestries of the Empire emblem. Fading red and black made the weathered building look more poorly kept more than it actually was, but she supposed it was to make it as a statement to the rest of the galaxy; she had seen this tactic used before back on Bavva III of those who ever attempted to go against the planet’s system way of living - although more gruesome, she didn’t doubt that there could have been many who would have wanted to use particular deceased heads on stakes. She didn’t see the charm on what it was forced to be made into, but could still feel what it was originally built for.

Halting as an empty corridor, filled with empty shelves and slots that would have once held precious material of scrolls, chips and discs, Nova sensed different arrays of emotions and memories. A curious mind looking up in wonder to a mentor as they show a new lesson from an ancient text. The same one trying to climb the shelves, but then use their limited abilities to tip the text over for them to catch, being too young and shy to ask for help. The same little one who tried to hide during the chaos of an invasion by someone they trusted -

“Nova,” Kylo’s voice called out to her, making her turn her attention to see him taking off his helmet with Phasma standing not too far, armed and ready as always. The Knights were left outside of the palace to stand guard with the rest of the ‘troopers. As far as Kylo told her, no one ever entered inside the palace anymore, fearing of the history becoming a possible curse to whoever went too far to disturb the ghosts that were resting inside. Still, it never hurt to take extra precautions on the outside, as well as getting distance.

Looking down to her, Kylo extended an open palm towards her. “May I please have it?” he asked her, and she smiled warmly at him as she dug into her pouches hidden underneath the cowl she wore.

Pulling out transparent hard drives with scratched out Aurebesh on the tags, Nova dutifully placed the three pieces into Kylo’s gloved hand. He then turned and held that hand out beside him. “Captain, if you will take these for the time being,” he instructed as the chrome plated woman stepped forward to take them.

Nova blinked and pouted at him in confusion. “You don’t trust me to hold the maps?”

“No.” Kylo removed his gloves and tucked them away before taking her hands in his own, lifting them to press a quick kiss to her knuckles to ensure his claim. “I just...don’t want him to be a part of it in any way. Not between us.”

Phasma made an amused tilt of her helmet as she hid the items away completely, Nova could sense the need to really push Kylo’s buttons, but was holding back. Kylo gave her a hard look and she simply shrugged. “I didn’t say anything, Commander.”

“Ahh, it’s a Commander that is roaming around here now? Though I sense another,” an elderly, raspy voice slipped into the chamber, making the three turn to see a human-hybrid man waddling out from wherever he was hiding.

Well, not much of hiding from Nova, when she pointed out to Kylo hours before that there was a man inside this particular room.

With his discolored tan and green face giving them all a toothless grin, the man reached with his elongated finger to point at Nova. Kylo instinctively moved his arm to somewhat shield her from the stranger. “There you are! Not only the Commander is one of ‘em, but so are you, young one!” he pointed out excitedly. “Oh wonder, how exciting. Never seen this many Force-sensitives in here before - and this place once held a whole lot of ‘em!”

“So, you’re Force-sensitive as well?” Kylo questioned with furrowed brows, pushing his abilities out to see for himself. Frowning deeper, Kylo returned to holding Nova’s hand. “You have it...barely to the point of only sensing others up close, but nothing else.”

“I like your droid! Better than them stormtroopers that used to come in and always rummagin’ through my collection o’stuff!” the man said pointedly while staring at Phasma, reaching with the same finger to poke her breast-plate, which Phasma smacked out of the way harshly. “Oh! Not a droid! It’s a person inside - how do you stay so still?”

Phasma looked to Kylo. “Are you seriously considering thinking that this man is the one you’re looking for, Commander?” Phasma asked bluntly. “There is no one else inside the Palace. We can easily go to the lower district of the planet and find someone else with more dignity...and more hygiene, than this homeless rodent.”

Kylo immediately went back to being his usual firm, direct self that made Nova hide her grin. “We’re looking for someone named Korol, and we’ve been told that he roams and resides in the old Jedi Temple. Are you him, or not.”

“I am Korol that roams and resides in the Palace, yes! It’s my palace now,” the man, Korol, chuckled gleefully. “Although, I always welcome guests who acknowledge me! I presume I am either in trouble with the Empire, looking at this not-droid-stormtrooper?”

“We are not the Empire,” Kylo corrected him firmly. “We seek you, because we have been told that you are able to proceed with marrying those who can not do so legally, or who do not have the required permission to do so.”

“Aye, that would be me!” Korol bounced. “But I saw you wanderin’ ‘round the Palace and take some ol’ garbage. You took bits of a map, I heard and saw! And, since you are a Commander with a stormtrooper, you must be here for official business!”

“We’ve finished with our mission,” Nova said before Kylo squeezed her hand to silent her. This made Korol grin even bigger; Kylo wasn’t too sure what the man was mixed with, since it seems that his skin and bones stretched longer than usual for a human.

“So, a marriage, is it? That’s a big commitment,” Korol drawled and began to wander around the empty archive, seeming to contemplate the request. “Haven’t done a wedding in a while - what belief do you two have? Is it the same, or not?”

Nova and Kylo seemed confused by the question, looking at each other for a brief moment before Korol popped beside them, staring at the taller man with a cheshire grin. “You, I see, have been raised to witness many. Certainly you’ve seen some weddings in your youth and asked questions when you could. The more usual, traditional kind of vows and rings, witness and a celebration with family, isn’t that right?”

Kylo didn’t have the chance to respond before the humanoid turned to Nova, more gentle and patient. “You, on the other hand, my dear beauty,” he said softly, “have never seen any sort of matrimony, only heard of your customs through others. Your rings are worn around your necks, wrists and ankles, instead of on the fingers.”

The Commander was about to snap at the creature, but Nova simply shrugged and gave Korol an honest, genuine answer. “No, I’ve never seen a wedding or a union of people, but I certainly do know that what I feel for Kylo is more beyond of what I was ever taught in my life. My very heart doesn’t belong to anyone else, but him. Surely, that’s enough for you to accept our request to marry us.

“I don’t need a ring, or any promise to a Master during a ceremony of promising ourselves to each other, if we were to be sold off, because I know as well as you do that we already stand by what we want, and our future is nonexistent without the other,” Nova went on with a smile. “You can see that, can’t you?”

Korol made an odd laugh as he jumped and clapped. “You’re a special one, yes! You can see more than what anyone else can, yes you can. I certainly can’t lie to you! You see what I see of you two!”

“So, is there going to be a wedding, or not,” Phasma blurted rather impatiently. “Because, if I may be honest with all of you, I can think of many other things I could be doing right now, instead of listening to this weird man. Commander, you know I’m really doing this because she asked me to, but this little creeper is -”

“Of course there will be a wedding,” Korol announced gleefully. “This is going to be the most genuine, the most best wedding I’ve ever officiated on this planet. Never mind the beliefs, you two have all you need, just do as I say for the most simple wedding ceremony I’ve learned.”

Korol went to what used to be a main desk of the archive hall, beckoning them over to follow. He was brief to make Kylo and Nova stand accordingly, encouraging them to hold hands - which Kylo had no problem with as he held Nova’s hands firmly within his own, his head twisting around to make sure he kept his eyes on the odd humanoid. With Phasma, after being slapped on the hand, it seemed Korol learned his lesson from touching the Captain’s armor; easily requesting her to stand to the side as a simple witness. Korol took a few hobbling steps back to look at the scene in front of him, then scurrying around the main desk and climbing on. For the humanoid-hybrid, he seemed a lot more delighted by the situation than the two who were intended to marry (although, both Kylo and Nova mentally agree that it just happens to be the whole set-up of being within an abandoned palace with a hermit officiating their wedding). From what Nova could sense, Phasma was just here to be a witness in favor of both of them…

“Because it seems there is a level of secrecy for this wonderful moment, I won’t ask for your names. Your presence here is enough to satisfy the union,” Korol explained with a smile. Then, looking to Nova, he rest his mixed-colored palm on top of her braids, patting politely. “My dear, would you like to state your vows first?”

Nova looked between him and Kylo for a moment, her husband-to-be’s eyes patient as ever while he held her hands. Korol took notice of her hestitance and pressed his fingers together, like a wise elder educating his pupil. “A vow, dear, is like giving a promise of what you intent to provide within your marriage. Most will often say ‘until death do you part’, but I much rather leave it open for you to decide what will suffice. Not everyone agrees with the death section of the traditional vows. If that will work for you, sir?”

Kylo didn’t spare another glance at Korol. “She can do whatever she pleases,” he explained, his thumbs caressing her knuckles to make her smile with a bit more confidence.

Feeling her cheeks warm and her chest thumping with her heart hammering against her ribcage, she felt the words slip from her lips with such ease and yet with an overwhelming effect.

“Before meeting you, I never thought I could live another day with where I once was. I was trapped in a place with no way out, and I was willing to accept my fate as nothing more than someone else’s benefit,” she began, her hands holding his a little bit tighter. “I never thought my life was worth anything, until you came to me and said my name. No one had ever done such a thing for me, like all the things you’ve done from the smallest gestures; you let me read, to learn what I can do, and allowed me to have a voice for the first time in my life, and there is so much more that you’ve done that I can’t even begin to list.

“I can’t thank you enough for everyone you have done for me, since that day you came to that damn planet. I don’t think there’s enough time left of my life to do so,” she snorted with her own amusement. “Instead, I want to give you everything I have and all that I am to you; you taught me that I can be more than just nothing, and that I am allowed to feel things that I was always told I couldn’t. I will give you my heart, my body and everything else I can to you and, hopefully, that will just be enough to repay a piece of all you’ve done for me.”

Looking up to him, trying to keep all her tears at bay, because she couldn’t see how crying was acceptable for her pouring her heart out in a time of happiness to let them slip. “I love you,” she told him. “I loved you the first day, before I even knew what love was; I loved you when I first said it to you, and every time after, and I love you today and now. And, I vow to you, even after either one of us is long gone from this vast galaxy of existing, that I will love you forever for as long as the Force thrives and even once if it disappears. I will do everything I can to be the best wife you could ever ask for, and promise to make every moment we spend together worthwhile. I vow to the wondrous galaxy that I will forever be yours and yours alone.”

Taking a deep breath, refusing to break eye contact with him and trying so hard not to cry, Nova felt his response grow tenfold and melt into her Force signature with the same sentiment and emotions that she was projecting to him. Korol hummed in approval and she sensed Phasma was doing her very best to resist her own emotions overtaking her usual stoic posture, making Nova feel a swell of pride in making the one she considered a friend to feel emotional over something that truly came from her heart.

“And now, young man,” Korol spoke, turning his nose to Kylo, who remained staring at Nova, “it’s your turn to say your vows, if you wish.”

What was next was not what anyone expected.

Releasing her hands for just a moment, Kylo moved his cloak away from the backside of his legs as he slowly got to his knees. Still, despite the major difference with his long legs folding in half, he was still fairly tall - a thought that amused Nova so much and he returned it through their bond with a teasing tickle. Settling into a comfortable position, similar yet different to how he would when addressed to Snoke, he took one of her hands. There was a sense of being another level above the Supreme Leader that sparked inside Phasma and Nova together, and he looked up to his beloved as if she was the holiest being known to exist.

“I am a man of many sins, and of a family with a history that no one will forget,” he said with so much confidence. “Meeting you was the first time I was being seen differently than I ever experienced in my life. I will continue to have blood stain my hands and destroy things without abandon, but now for a whole new different purpose.

“I vow to you, my love, that you will see the galaxy in all its glory and terror that you have yet to see for yourself,” Kylo declared. “I will take whatever blade and bullet that will be aimed at you upon myself, and make whoever dares to bring harm to you suffer. The galaxy is not worthy of you yet, and I will make it my mission to morph it into a perfect utopia of peace and order, all for you.”

With the one hand he was holding, he opened her palm and brought it to rest against his bare cheek and closed his eyes. “I will fight all the armies and kill anyone who tries to take you away from me, even our own Master, if it came to that. My loyalty may be with the Order, but my heart only belongs to you. You are the stars that light up the black mass in my chest, the reason I keep fighting and training to make a better future for you.”

Turning to nuzzle her wrist, Kylo’s lips twitched. “I vow to protect you, treat you as my equal and bring you the happiness that you deserve from the day you first drew breath, for all that I am capable. I will fight for you, sacrifice my life in order for you to live and see the peaceful future that I will build for you. I vow to be the best husband, and be forever yours, for my heart and life belong to you and no one else.”

Korol looked between them and then to Phasma. He seem to have waited for some kind of response from the witness and had gotten what he wanted, because pat his palms on top of both Kylo and Nova’s heads and tilt his head back. A blissful smile on his aged face, Korol hummed once more before speaking.

“By the power invested within me, I hereby proclaim with my life that you two are husband and wife,” he announced, the echo of the archive hall echoing his voice at a perfect volume. “By your witness as proof, and within these ancient walls, you may now kiss your beloved, and let your hearts become one.”

Kylo was quick to get back on his feet and take hold of Nova’s face by gently cupping them with both of his large hands, kneeling down to kiss her when Nova jumped on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. Phasma knew that both of them sensed her grin and happy tears staining the inside of her helmet, but she would let this one slide for being allowed to attend the wedding.

xxx.

“Did you see anyone inside the Palace, Madam Nova?” Lumiya asked curiously, whispering as quietly as possible. “Or see any ghosts?”

“No? Do people live inside anymore?” Nova asked back with a confused frown, making Lumiya flustered under her mask and look away from her, facing the ground.

“Well, knowing what history that place holds, I remember hearing how this place still echoes the dying screams and orders of the Emperor. I grew up not too far from here, so, you know, stories get around.” Standing up straight, she did her best not to emanate her past when Kylo Ren was nearby, leading the group away and back to the shuttle.

“Well, I hope this doesn’t disappoint you, but I didn’t sense any other lifeforms inside, besides Phasma, Kylo and myself. There was a lot of dust and broken things inside,” Nova told her with a shrug.

“It doesn’t. It feels more relieving, actually, knowing that no one dares to enter such a place. And the mission was a success, so the Supreme Leader will be more than pleased that you got what we came for.”

Watching for the group of First Order personnel leave down the gateway of the old palace, Korol smiled to himself as he returned indoors to the archive hall. Hobbling over to a singular pillar that held an archway above, Korol felt around the old, worn-out panelboard until he found a functioning switch to bring up a half-formed hologram.

Reaching to the hologram, he ejected the small drive from the slot provided and took hold of the blue colored block and placed it in his pocket, patting the newly added lump.

“Another nice piece for my good ol’ collection, mm?” Korol chuckled to himself as he turned back to see the sunset, the same direction the secret newlyweds and their entourage faded off to. “Could really sense the bonding of their love for one another - don’t find that from the First Order nowadays, no sir. Those two must be the best match, if I’ve ever seen one…”

Laughing freely, Korol scurried over to a hidden corridor - a vent that has been pried open with a tool some odd years back - and stuck his irregularly shaped head inside. The vent was illuminated from dated lights, making the pile of collected hard drives and security footage seem to sparkle like little diamonds.

Taking the chip in his pocket, Korol was careful to set it gently among the rest of the collection, adding another piece of light reflecting off of it. He smiled proudly before pulling back out of the vent and sat on the ground with a pleased sigh.

“Yes, it’s good to put more happy memories in the walls,” he told himself with a toothless grin. “Good ol’ collection is gonna overpower all the sad memories with all the good, thanks to those two newlyweds.”

Fun fact: Korol is a canon name in the SW universe, who is rumored to be an ancestor of Han Solo. Can anyone guess what they went to go retrieve from the Temple/Palace? c:

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Remember, if you would like to be tagged for future chapters, please don’t hesitate to message me! I’d be more than happy to add you. Thank you for reading and I hope to hear from you!

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weeping-petals · 4 years

Text

A New Game - Part 1

Word Count - 3,403

The Temple in the Chalcedony Forest has become active, and the Crystal Gems take Steven along to check what affects the ancient relic has undergone. In the forest, someone waits, and she does not want visitors.

The sales guy was told there was another home on the far point of Beach City. It was way out of the way, but his pitch hadn’t landed on most of the residents who answered their doors, and it was mentioned casually that the owner usually indulged hard working door-to-doors.

The home was actually really nice, and he could see why the owner would indulge a pitch. It was built in the front of - or into - an enormous statue reminiscent of some sea goddess or whatever. Not a fancy place by no means, but the property tax alone must’ve been astronomical.

He scaled the long series of steps to the front of the home and knocked on the screen door. While he waited, he straightened his tie and fixed the lapels of his suit. Most the home was visible behind the screen, it went far back, into what resembled a cave. A genuine naturalist, interested in preserving the native rock. Footsteps rocketed from above, from what he could presume was an upstairs loft. There sat some windows up there, for what must’ve been a splendid view.

A small and what he would describe politely as a pudgy child hit the door. Hit the door before he grabbed at the latch and pulled it open. “Hi!”

“Hello,” began Fran – short for Frankenstilk. “Can I inquire if either of your parents are home?”

“Either?” responded the child. “Can I ask, which would you want?”

“Which? Hmm. Your mother or father, or grandparent. Any suitable guardian.” Fran hefted his briefcase. “I have a revolutionary product that will change how you do dishes.”

“Well,” the boy looked like he was giving this serious consideration. “That pitch might fall best on Pearl. Is it a cleaning product?”

Hopeful, Fran brightened. “It’s actually a machine. A new dishwasher, saves water and energy.” At that mention, the boys eyes lit up. “And time, might I add.”

“That sounds cool! But, we don’t have a dishwasher. We do it all by hand.” He looked down and prodded the threshold with his toe. “I’m the only one in the house that eats, so I don’t know if Pearl will come to the door. Between you and me, she really doesn’t like talking to people.”

This was getting weird, and going nowhere. “Could you try and get her for me? Maybe she’ll talk to me. It is a wonderful product, and we have several sizes to fit your family’s needs.”

At the far end of the room, what appeared as a kind of flat platform with crystals embedded on the base, lit up. Like a concerts lighting effects or stage, it beamed with radiance that flooded the interior of the home. Fran gawked, and the boy spun around, going tense. Something appeared in the center, but in a blink it was gone and once more the interior catered to the typical light from lamps.

“OHH!” squealed the boy. “Did you see that?”

“Uhh….”

“I knew I saw it! I knew it! The ghost! You saw it too, right?” he grabbed Fran by the pant leg and shook him. “I didn’t have my camera! Can you wait here? I gotta get someone! Pearl! She’ll want to talk!”

“Uhhh…..” Fran wanted to leave. Now.

The strange formal man with the briefcase was gone by the time Steven had located one of the Crystal Gems, not Pearl. Garnet figured Steven would be looking for her, but there were any number of scenarios that could have led to him needing her. The one where he saw a ghost was not one, and that concerned her.

“This is the third time I’ve seen it.” Steven had a book loaded with spectral apparitions, stories of unsolved conundrums, and mystical time portals. All rubbish in Pearl’s eyes, but it fascinated Steven.

To Garnet, none of that made sense. Over the centuries, she and the other Gems dealt with corrupted monsters left over from the war, unaccounted shards that needed a good sturdy bubble, and passive gems corrupted, but rooted to their locations and passive, but needed to be looked after. Corrupted Gems and shards could not use the portals, yet, that was where Steven insisted, he saw this apparition.

“Did you get a good look at her, this time?” she posed. She sat on the couch, watching Steven pace back and forth – a habit he picked up from Pearl.

“No. It happened too fast.”

Garnet hummed, contemplating this information. She skimmed through the twisting timelines, searching for insight into these visions Steven was having. None came to her, immediately. “Are you sure Amethyst isn’t playing a trick on you?”

“No. I don’t know.” Steven let the disappointment leak into his voice. “Usually, she surprises me and gloats about how I’m so easy.”

Yeah. This didn’t sound like Amethyst’s doing.

Over the next few weeks, Steven poured into the spooky and mystery books from the local bookshop. The mail carrier was hauling one or two large volumes a day. Pearl was at her wits end.

“Steven. These volumes are not accurate education materials. There’s no such things as… spirits,” she huffed.

Thankfully, Amethyst was at the bar folding a burger into a pizza. “Psh, yeah. Except the creepy gem bits we keep in the basement.”

Steven looked up from the book he was perusing through. “Gem… bits?”

“Amethyst!”

A loud argument irrupted from that. For the most part, Steven was confused, and Amethyst teetered on the edge of divulging something, which Pearl was having none of. It only came to an end when Garnet entered from the portal doorway, her presence and stoic expression demanded silence.

This didn’t happen immediately. Garnet had to clear her throat to break the others out of bickering. “We need to make a trip to the Chalcedony Forest. The temple in the heart of that region has become active, and one of the warp pads there is now silent.”

Pearl and Amethyst remained pensive. Steven was the first to speak up.

“What does that mean?”

“My plans for the day are canceled,” Amethyst quipped.

“You didn’t have any plans,” Pearl rebuked.

“Aside from eating my purrurger. It’s a pizza, burger, and a burrito. All rolled up in one.” Amethyst began gnawing on the culinary behemoth, while Pearl made the gag face. The one she made, whenever Amethyst shoved a none traditional, edible food item into her face.

“Steven. Would you like to come with us?” Garnet bypassed the bar, to look on the child with his book.

“You mean it?” he beamed. The face faded, he looked at his book. “Even after the Moon Temple?”

“Lunar Sea Spire,” Pearl corrected.

“One minor error.” Garnet ruffled his curly hair. “We all make them, one time or another. What matters, is that you want to continue and learn. And avoid repeating the same mistakes. No artifacts this time. Our mission will be simple recon. Maybe your short stature will help us locate anything we miss.”

“I’m short!” Amethyst burped.

“But Steven does it better,” Garnet responded. “We need to leave soon. Go get packed.”

Steven bolted from his chair and rushed to the loft. He grabbed the hamburger backpack off his shelf and dumped all the supplies from it, then restocked it, accounting for new gear he needed for the so named forest.

“Do I need bug spray!”

“No.”

“Suntan lotion?”

“Dude! We’re going to be in a forest!”

“What about a canoe?”

“Steven!” All three said in unison.

Steven stuffed in one snack, and felt ready for the trip. He raced downstairs, and joined the other gems at the front door. “So, what’s the Chardony Forest like?”

“Chalcedony Forest,” Pearl corrected. Amethyst facepalmed. “It was a land in the midst of gem petrifi—”

In a beam of light, the gems vanished from the surface of the warp pad and shot through the light stream. Within a matter of minutes, a flash burst halfway across the globe on a sister pad.

Deep in the forest terrain.

“—Since then, ah, we’re here,” Pearl announced, when the light faded and the chaotic land rose up around them. The trees clustered close to the area of the pad, and it was askew in the soil. Steven wobbled where he stood on the slick surface. “Since then, the forest has adapted to the partial terraforming.”

“Wow.” Steven bounced off the pad and weaved among the shrubs. The trees were the largest he’d ever seen, some had trunks larger than his own home. He shielded his eyes from the falling sun, the light cascaded down was intense. Though, some of the looming timbers shimmered and reflected light, the surface polished like glass. Smaller and less impressive foliage remained traditional bark and fiber. “Oh, so they’re like glass.”

“The Chalcedony Forest,” Garnet restated. “Many of these plants adopted gem like qualities. Some are primarily mineral.”

“Chalcedony is a kind of gem?” Steven questioned. He leaned down, inspecting the jagged crystals shooting from the sprouts of a shrub.

“Yes.” Garnet stepped by, patting his head. “Let’s get moving. We won’t have much daylight, especially with the trees. Amethyst.”

Amethyst was prodding a root. “What? I’m just looking.”

“It’ll be important to stay close. The thicket is dense, and it will be easy to become separated, and difficult to call out for each other.” This was Garnet code for, keep a close eye on Steven because he might get distracted by something and wander.

“So Pearl!” Steven bounded up beside his favorite tall and booky gem. “What else can you tell me about this place? How are the trees both glass and growing?”

Pearl smiled, “Well, the technology was very sophisticated at the time, and this region was intended to be utilized for aristocratic gatherings. See the view?” She cast an arm out, gesturing the expanding valley stretching from the slope of the mountain. Steven hurried ahead, eyes beaming. The forest went on

FOREVER

Unbeknownst to the gems, in the low canopy above them, a dark shape plopped onto a branch and stood, bent, surveying the three. It was loosened, looming, gleaming eyes narrowed. In a flash, the figure was out of sight. Aside from leaves spiraling down from where the figure darted, no evidence was apparent to warn the others.

A half hour later, the gems were hiking uphill. A path wove among the branches and breaching roots, but the terrain was not clear of rocks or shattered tree mineral.

“Hey,” Steven wheezed. “How far is the temple?”

“Mmm,” Garnet thought. “Another three hours.”

“What!”

“That was the closest warp pad?” Amethyst grouched. Though not tired, walking was boring. And they weren’t here to fight any creatures or living islands.

“There was one nearer to the temple, yes,” Garnet answered. “Though seismic events might have….” There she stalled, and raised her head to the canopy above. “Watch out!” She knocked Amethyst backwards, then bolted forward snagging Steven and Pearl. She crouched beside the base of crystal spikes, shielding them from a rapid succession of bursting sparks that erupted on the trail.

Amethyst rolled backwards, narrowly evading miniscule shards. A few hits struck home, inflicted damage to her arm. “Hey! What gives!”

Laughter spilled down from the branches. From the dense leafy assortment, a lanky thread slunk down. It alit on a branch, recalling its body into a concise shape.

“Well-well-well, what have we here!” the speaker hissed. “Look who’s come to invade my territory.” The lithe shape dropped, swinging from its legs, directing an oversized finger at each below under scrutiny. She sang in a mocking tune, “If it isn’t Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl. Oh dear, Pearl, long time no see. Eh?” She slung around, and flipped back up onto the branch. “What happened? Run out of Corrupt Gems to Terrorize!”

Pearl eased out of Garnet’s arms, squinting at the silhouette. “Who is…? No. It can’t be.”

“But it can. And it is! Oh, and now you’re here, for me. Come to finish what you started! IS THAT IT!” She bounded down tree limbs, marching with her fists swinging. “You’ll all have another thing comin’, mark my words.”

Steven shuddered. Garnet held tight in her arms, while all focus was directed up at the strange… person. He’d never seen her this tense before, not since the arcade. “Garnet,” he murmured. “Who is that? Do you know… her?”

Garnet didn’t respond. She set him down and moved to place herself between him and the figure up high, descending beat by beat. This movement didn’t go overlooked.

“Ah! Who’s that you got there? Another reject, from the furnace!” The person sprang up and down on the branch, stamping her feet. “If you think—”

“Amethyst,” Garnet hissed. She didn’t need to look, to know she caught the other’s attention. “Return to the warp pad.”

“Who! Is! That!” The figure demanded, cocking those gleaming eyes.

Pearl already had a spear summoned, and was moving around the side of the tree. In part striving to conceal intents, partially tempting attention – feigning a poorly construed sneak attack. Meanwhile, Amethyst crept among the brush from the other side, to where Garnet with Steven stood poised.

“Come on, Steven.” Amethyst nabbed his hand and tugged him away. Her quick response on the command and lack of resistance made Steven uneasy. Amethyst was prone to argue if there was a chance for a fight, but here and now, she hefted him above her head and hurried into the retreat.

“Wait,” Steven countered. “Who?— What’s—?”

“Steven!” The silhouette barked, bristling. “Steev-En.” The body of the odd figure went limp noodle. “Oh. Ooh. Perfect.” Her gleaming eyes slanted. “Steven. All grown up. Look atchoo. Aren’t you cuute. I have a surprise. How ‘bout a new game. The rules are simple. Winner takes all. Won’t you stay? Can’t you play? Think of all the fun we’ll have!”

“Spinel!” Garnet boomed.

Pearl was scaling the tree, vaulting up the branches, fast as she could manage. She reached height with Spinel and thrust her spear, intending to shoot a bolt or energy. But Spinel already lept backwards, extending an arm. She caught Pearl by the foot and knocked her out of the elegant ascent.

“Just like old times,” Spinel cackled. Her limbs uncoiled, she snatched ahold of branches near the forest floor and hauled her body downward like a missile. “Have fun while I wasn’t around? Learn new tricks? Make new games?”

Amethyst hurtled around trees, while Steven flailed his arms. “Who is that? What is—” He crashed to his backside when Amethyst came to an abrupt halt, dropping him and scooting backwards. On the ground the lanky gem was coiled and flattened, a wild grin plastered on the face. An arm snaked out and snared Amethyst by the ankle, in one fling Amethyst went skyward. Steven shuffled backwards.

Spinel sprang off the floor, limbs jagged and bent. “Found you!”

“Don’t you dare harm him!” Garnet snarled. She launched over Steven’s head, gauntlet extended. The blow narrowly connected with Spinel’s shoulder, but rather knock the enemy gem off balance, legs coiled about Garnet’s shoulders and wrist, looping tightly.

Spinel twisted into the flip, hauling the bulkier gem along. Arms unraveled catching at the trunks around them, and she began spinning in an unrestrained vortex, abandoning control. A bright glimmer emitted from the core of the cyclone, and when Spinel released Garnet, the fusion collided with a crystal tree. The Chalcedony burst, collapsing into glittery bits and forming a glittery cavity.

Perched in the low branches, Pearl saw an opening. Spinel skidded across the soil, whipping around to face an oncoming lilac buzzsaw. Soundlessly, Pearl vaulted down, extending her spear. Unfortunately, she forgot the critical rule of fighting Spinel.

Spinel was already relocating, a constant motion, never ceasing step aside from a millisecond beat. She spied Pearl in descent, and once Amethyst was a hairpin close, grabbed the whirring ball by the sides and launched her upward. Amethyst collided with Pearl, and the two plummeted.

Steven backed away when the gem spun his way; a wide grin met him, the arms loose and curved. She made no move on him, didn’t acknowledge him aside from the sinister gleam. The barest suggestion of an encounter sent a shiver up his spine, and he continued to retreat, until his back hit the bent root of a tree. He didn’t know what to do, how to help. This was unlike any scenario they practiced for. This was clearly not a creature, he didn’t think she looked like one. This was a gem. A real gem person.

Why were they fighting?

Pearl and Amethyst were struggling to recover from the impact. That was when Spinel sprang into their midst, spinning and kicking one or the other. “How I MISSED YOU!” Pearl rose to jam out a spear, but Spinel smashed it to the ground underfoot. Amethyst cracked her whip, and Spinel countered by coiling an arm into the lash and hauled Amethyst downward. “How lonely I WAS! Can you IMAGINE?” She grabbed Amethyst, swept around and flung her against Pearl’s body. “Remember all the fun we used to have? Do ya! Well I DO!”

Spinel’s gem gleamed, and she slapped a small block to the back of Amethyst’s shoulder. Pearl sprang in, not recovered from the last blow. She tried to spear Spinel with a wild shot, but missed when the other gem bowed aside. Not only swung, but scooted up right behind Pearl. Spinel pried at her shimmering heart, and shoved a third and final device to the back of Pearl’s head. The force of the delivery sent Pearl into a flip.

“You LEFT ME! Thought you could forget all about me, HAUGH!” Spinel spat, as she backed away. Directly behind her, Garnet launched in, gauntlets out stretched and energy crackling across her knuckles. Spinel performed a tight twirl on one leg, bending backwards, the other leg slung up and tripped Garnet. While the larger gem somersaulted, Spinel snatched the shades from her face.

And fitted them over her own eyes. “Thought you’d just… abandon me, didja?” Her gem gleamed, this time, she brought forth a device about the size of her hand. “Not a one of you thought to come find me! Thought you’d be through with me! Dust your hands of that lil trifle? Well, GUESS AGAIN!”

The three gems saw the device, but it was Amethyst who spied the something… on the back of Pearl’s head. She blurted, “She’s got a—”

Garnet landed and recovered, right beside Spinel. But she didn’t contend with the gem, instead, she propelled herself forward. There was no time. Spinel hit the switch, and sneered at the other two.

Each tech on each gem, Garnet included, blazed a bright light. The forest around them was engulfed completely by the intrusive radiance, even sound burned away. Too near the radius, Steven covered his head and body, perplexed and terrified by everything spiraling out of control. It very well could have been their end. He would never see another Cookie Cat. His dad would never know what happened. Their adventures were over.

“Steven,” Garnet howled. Voice nearly enveloped completely by the grating yowl of the light. She wrapped her arms around the boy, intending to shield him, and defend him from whatever may come.

Right beside her, Spinel laughed. “Nice try. No dice.” Garnet nearly missed the comment. She curled around Steven tighter, reminiscent of another time long-long ago, when she had protected a friend.

Eventually, the light faded by layers of haze, and even then, the gems could not see clearly. The surroundings were apparent, but they remained in a glaring fog.

“What was that?” Amethyst grumbled. She walked into another tree. She tried crawling, but wound up waddling right into a crystal rock.

“A flash,” Pearl supplied. She leaned on her spear struggling with the affects, shaking her head – where her gem was situated. “It impedes our gems ability to perceive surroundings.”

“Just say we can’t see. That makes more sense,” Amethyst spat. “Man! I thought she was gone, like, forever ago. Garnet? Is Stev okay?” Worryingly, Garnet was silent. “Hey! Was he affected? How’s he doing?”

Garnet was the first able to recover. She managed to summon a pair of shades, though still suffered some intent of the radiance. Which meant, Spinel was affected as well, to some degree. Which on its own was troubling. What bothered Garnet more, was that she was holding only the hamburger backpack, and it was empty. They lost Steven.

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