#this time around ill have a correct tagging system
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Orchid Child, Dandelion Child
Pairings: Riddle & Sibling MC (NOT a romantic pairing)
Summary: This is going to take after Riddle’s overblot, and short and sweet. The term orchid child/dandelion child refer to children who may have very specific/different needs for their development, and those who need less accommodations or specific requirements for their development, respectively. They may grow up in the same environment but everyone’s needs are different, one child may have different coping mechanisms than the other. MC is heavily implied to have dyslexia, ADHD/Autism, and OCD (the latter two of which are often comorbid)
Notes: My brain is so dead. Enjoy this very short piece, sorry it's been a while.
TW: Graphic descriptions of embalming (weird tag I know but listen listen listen hear me out‒), also mentions of blood and human biology; past domestic/child abuse, and mental illness
GN Terms for MC
AO3 Link Here
Masterlist
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Adjacent to your mother’s footsteps, you had always had a curiosity for the medical. Though it was never living bodies that enamored you. In death, biology levels all. Cremation, natural burial, or alkaline hydrolysis‒ no amount of money, or intelligence, magic, or talent would help anyone escape the inevitable. Whether able bodied, rich, poor, moral or not‒ all people returned to dust, bones, and decay.
Rituals like the embalming process always brought you a strange comfort‒ the draining and ejecting, bathing, refrigeration‒ the body incised, emptied of its filth, and sewn back up. Imagining the dissection of a body into each fleshy component relaxed your own‒ as if your cold body lay on a sleek, steel mortuary table, your jaws and eyes sewn shut and the biology of your body ready to be drained. Even if your insides were scraped out for people to see‒ you would not feel shame. No blood to rush to your cheeks, or your aching heart. Your mother had always dismissed this career choice, urging you to find something ‘more within your reach ’.
Your body would be clean from its excrement, scrubbed of all the insides that capsized you from this world, and its people.
Compartmentalization‒ your psychiatrist mentioned. It took you a few tries to correctly register the word in your head when you had gotten the report, you’re not sure if it’s correct. If you did not imagine this scene at least three times a day, you felt like your blood was going to burst forth from your membrane, hot and spastic, like a monstrous clot of nerves. Again. Again. Again. You cleansed this shaking contamination within you with whatever you could do. That’s wrong. You dig your nails into your palm, resisting the urge to lay the papers that were shuffled around by the headmaster on the floor, sorting and checking one by one if they were there. Again, again, again. You imagine an arterial tube weaving through the wounds of your hands, draining the warmth that itched against your skin, the function of your wandering eyes, and the defect of your mind.
“I’ve signed off on everything. Is there anything else I can do for you, Mx.Rosehearts?”
“No, nothing else. Thank you, Headmaster Crowley.”
You gather the stack of papers in your file, you check through‒ quickly‒ your medical records, doctor’s notes, psych evaluations, annotated versions of section 504, interpreter documents‒ a variety of other loose papers that wedge inside the old file as best you can, just in case . Even for such a minute accommodation, lacking a legally recognized diagnosis prepared you for the worst. Rejection‒ a tumble and drag into a system not designed for you in mind. These accommodations were an afterthought after that system was built, something to make you “whole”. There were many experiences in your interactions with school boards that warranted preparations like this, which you scrubbed into your mind and routine. No one will help you‒ not the board, the teachers, your peers, your family‒ you must be prepared to advocate for yourself. There was never room for failure, and you made sure that these accommodations made up for your innate nature to do so in this system.
You bow a perfect ninety degrees before you head out of the office, quietly shutting the door behind you with a soundless exhale. Adjusting the stack of papers in your file, you scurry off to the library to find a quiet corner to reorient yourself. You weave through the various open tables, the large seating area, and the comfortable nooks with beanbags‒ and instead, opt for your usual spot in the corner of the library, where you softly place the file on the desk.
That’s wrong. Again. Again. Again. Again.
You open and close the file four times, feeling a wriggling, hot feeling in your blood that completely halts your mind from moving forward with your process, despite the short amount of time you have until your next class.
No. Again.
With the sixth time, it feels right. You sigh in relief, thanking whatever higher being out there that the process didn’t take as long as before. Medical records, doctor’s notes, psych evaluations, annotated sections, interpreter documents. All in order, all there, only for you to see. A weight lifts off your chest as you shift your eyes around the library, and close the file.
You browse through the section of the library, running your finger along the spines of the books to spot a new read. A mauve leather-bound book catches your eye, the gold letter glinting in the dusty light of the library. Smoke Gets in Your Eyes: Other Lessons From the Crematorium you skim the summary on the back. Satisfied, you work your way to the counter, where the librarian checks out the book with a smile. She pulls out the book slip at the front of the book and a pen.
Riddle Rosehearts.
You almost make a sound at the name, but instead, you quietly chew in your inner lip to provide some sort of grounding for the whirling feeling in your stomach. You feel sick when you write your name in the same cursive as the name above yours‒ just like your mother taught you.
“ Again .” Your mother would say.
You write. She slaps your hand with a ruler, reaching over your shoulder to erase the word.
“ Again .”
You write. She slaps, she erases.
“ Again .”
You write. She slaps, the paper begins to fray from the friction of your eraser, and the tears that run hot down your cheeks. Inertia. Inertia. Inertia. You repeat the word in your mind, trying to mold it with your hands. But the black text above the frayed paper seems to weave together, jumble, congeal. You push the hot coal in the back of your throat, forcing your bruised hand to write.
That’s not right. Again. Again. Again.
Why can't you just do it the way you're told?
Medical records, medical recommendations, psych evaluations, doctor’s notes, annotated sections, interpreter documents. So much extra weight that folder holds that you have to carry everywhere with you‒ just in case .
Again. Again. Again.
You open and close the locker shut, twisting the locker combination each time. At this rate, you know you’ll be late to class, way past your accommodations agreements. You hope Professor Trein won’t make such a big scene.
When you arrive at class, you are miraculously left alone by the professor and your peers. Breathing a sigh of relief, you take your usual seat, finding a practice exam on your desk.
You didn’t properly shut your locker. People are probably stealing your stuff now, breaking your things, tearing your extra records into pieces. You didn’t properly shut your locker. The documents are ruined, and you have to start all over again. You didn’t shut your locker. You grip your pencil, bouncing your leg, digging your nails into your palm. Yes, yes you did lock it. Three times in fact. Still, a voice persists‒ you didn’t do it right. Again. Again. Again. You scratch, and pick at the broken skin of your palm.
Eventually, as you continue staring at the packet‒ you feel a stab at the back of your shoulder. A student jabs forth the packet of papers that were collected from the back with an exasperated face. The papers are basically thrown your way as you add your half blank packet to the pile, swallowing down your anxiety. Trein continues class as usual, going over the review sheet.
“Mx. (Name). A word?”
You freeze in your seat, in the middle of gathering your things for next class. Students’ gaze furl towards you, and you pick at the wound of your palm to calm the rising panic in your abdomen. Begrudgingly, you pack up your things, and head towards Trein’s desk.
“I will excuse your tardiness for today since you have accommodations, but that does not explain the almost completely unfinished practice exam that we took in class. Do you care to explain?”
You refuse eye contact. “I…” There was no way to explain it with any sane sensibility, or without alerting your mother. “I apologize sir. I was distracted. It won’t happen again.”
He sighs, you know he doesn’t believe you. It’s your condition‒ you look to the stack of accommodation letters and agreements tucked under his elbow, and you feel that weight in your chest.
“Please, sir. I’ll do anything to make up for it I‒”
A hand is raised at your response, with a pinch at the bridge of his nose. “It’s…It’s quite alright. I know you are trying your best, considering your… situation . Please finish the packet before you come to class next time.” Trein hands the packet back to you, which you accept with a silent nod.
The situation, the condition, the baggage. There have been many terms used to describe your disablement from the world‒ each more alienating than the other. You draw blood on your palm once more, looking inside the crescent-shaped holes in your flesh. You feel nothing but the trembling deep in your chest.
You sit in the shared space of the Heartslabyul dorm, hoping that body doubling will allow you to finish your workload. Though it takes you some time, you manage to finish your work before the sun sets, and you scurry back into your dorm room to begin your book. As you try to relax, the thought of a missing assignment, a failed exam, a systematic blunter pricks at your skin, spreading and choking your flesh. You read the same sentence over and over, but understand nothing.
Why can't you just do it the way you're told?
You hear a knock at your door, seizing you from your thoughts. You sigh, shove whatever scrap paper that had been lying around into your book, and reluctantly open the door.
Riddle Rosehearts.
You remember him from his perfect handwriting, his words that mirrored your own mothers. You could never get the “R” quite right, something both your brother and mother scolded you for.
“Rule of threes, you understand what will happen when you fail the third time.” Again. Again. Again.
Riddle had always resembled his mother much more than you had‒ in voice, in appearance, in tone. “ Rule of threes, (Name). You know what mother will do to you when you fail the third time .” He extended your mother's violence with all his likeness to her, in his face that would look down upon you with aberration, and his tightened fists that dragged your head to look closer at the paper, and realize your error. Every way he came into contact with you had been wrapped, tightly as flesh, your mother's violence.
You imagine that cold table again, but Riddle’s silvery eyes tethered you to the moment. It was as if you could feel every shifting tendon of your body, every pull of sinew and blood that pumped blood rapidly to your heart, and the back of your ears. But the guilty look on his face reminded you of one of the rare times he had broken mother’s rules. You realized he was as much of a child too, that day. Stretched thin and tall to fill your mothers expectations.
His stare is unbearable, you push through the tension in your throat.
“Can I help you, Dorm Leader Rosehearts?”
You think you see his worried expression, but your eyes dart from his gaze when he looks towards you again.
“You left this on the table in the common room.” He extends you the file that you thought had been safely tucked with your belongings. Your vision begins to distort‒ graying and distancing as you attempt to keep yourself calm from experiencing your literal nightmare . “I thought you wouldn’t want anyone to see it.”
“I…do not, no. I would not wish to shame you, or this dorm.”
Riddle takes a sharp inhale. You unconsciously tightening your body‒ imagining the postmortem stages. Pallor mortis, your blood pools to the souls of your feet. Algor Mortis, your skin feels on fire, and cools dead, limp. Rigor mortis, you stiffen and contract. The nutrients of your body drained, breaking down to gray sludge. You prepare for the breakdown of your body, your psyche, and your soul‒ the wounds on your body are only evidence to your movement through temporality in this system. Livor Mortis, your blood bruises your skin.
“I did not…mean that. I only meant‒ I felt…” He sighs, looking towards the floor. “I’m bad at this. But I didn’t mean that this is something shameful. I only wished to protect your privacy.”
You avert your eyes, unsure of what to do with him wanting to protect you in some sort of way. Perhaps his overblot changed him, but all you see if your mother’s shadow, when you look towards him.
“It’s not important, I apologize for the trouble, Dorm Leader Rosehearts.”
Maintaining his grasp on the file, he attempts to keep this connection going. “There’s so much I need to apologize for.”
You only manage a strangled sound, afraid to pull the file towards you. Afraid of movement, of air, of space, of time, of him. Everything seems to strangle you, you know that it was precisely designed that way.
He cups a hand over your own. You try to repress the tremble in your body from the searing feeling of his palm, too afraid to look, speak, or move. You remain still, like a corpse, hastily trying to turn off your nerves and the bursting blood in your body, slaughtering it, and draining all feeling from your body. It’s been so long‒ your body rushes to catch up. You’re always catching up. Always.
“I don’t want to upset you. I just came to apologize, but I understand if you don’t want to see me.”
Your mouth is sewn with silence, your jaw caught in a tremor in your mouth. Quickly‒ your mind makes the decision to speak‒ mother never liked when you didn’t answer to her questions.
The words scrape through your throat. “I…” A gulp to lubricate the convulsing motions of your esophagus. “Nothing is wrong. I apologize, dorm leader Rosehearts. It will never happen again‒ I apologize‒ I will make up for it. Please.”
His gaze softens. “I’m not asking because I’m asking you to apologize, or make up for anything. I’ve learned some things…I wanted to make up, but, I want to make sure you’re okay first.”
“Are you okay?”
You spare a glance at his face, almost caught in the worried expression adorned on his features. “I don’t understand what the purpose that question serves. I can’t understand…” Still, you worry what will happen if it seems like you blame him for your lack‒ so you shift the weight on yourself once more. “I am incapable…of understanding. I apologize.”
“Hey.” He mellows his voice as much as possible, releasing you from his grasp. “It’s okay.”
“You asked me a question. I was incapable of giving an answer that satisfies you. That is a violation of the rules, is it not?” You retract your hands to your chest, pressing your nails into the wounds on your palm.
Riddle folds his hands, almost nervously fidgeting with them. You almost react visibly with awe at the sight. “Our mother may have been wrong about a lot of things. I only recognized that after I attended here, and made many friends who helped me understand that. I am extremely regretful of the things I’ve done to you, and the things I’ve said. There’s no excuse for the things I’ve done, but I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me someday‒ I want to reconnect, if you’ll allow me.”
You push the file against your chest. “...I don’t think it will be easy. For me, or for you. Especially for me.”
“Most things that are worth something aren’t. I realized something while I was overblotting.” His cheeks gradually bloom pink, a habit he’s had since he was a child. You remember the color most when he cried, but he looks sheepish. Igniting the same warmth in your cheeks, you look at his feet. Heels, you never noticed. He must be shorter than you. “I missed you. I really did. And I missed what we could have had. I’m sorry I couldn’t have been a better brother to you.”
“I think…I missed you too.” You admit. “I think neither of us can ask for help, we’ve been raised that way. We have drastically different ways of coping with that isolation.”
“I think so too. I have a lot of work to do.”
“ We do.”
Rubbing your arm up and down, you soothe yourself‒ thinking of bodies and corpses, your skin buzzing from the thought of decomposition‒ what grows from them. The fruits of death lay thick and sweet on your tongue, as you stumble through a small smile. Riddle reciprocates.
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End Notes:
Obviously this is only a small glimpse into what healing from abuse and trauma is like. But it’s a start. The first steps count.
I’m also in no way shape or form attempting to justify Riddle’s behavior. He’s a complete and total asshole for sure, but he was a kid‒ I definitely see him as capable of change.
The terms Orchid/Dandelion child are relatively new, and I find the pop-psychology approach to it very distasteful (as pop psych usually is. do your fucking research people. PEER REVIEWED ARTICLES!) But I wanted to use the terms to kind of critique the notion of this divide between "resilient" and "nonresilient". It's just a matter of needs, which are different for everyone. Making this hierarchical distinction is arbitrary and often times ableist, as it normalizes a singular, hegemonic way of reacting/experience/compartmentalization/coping. Anyways read more disability studies if you want to know more.
Because I’m not officially diagnosed (my disabilities are not officially recognized by law because for me the disadvantages gross outweigh the benefits, like literally having your human rights stripped away) I don’t know the specific details of acquiring accommodations in a school setting apart from my position as a teacher, but please let me know if there are any errors in the information so I can fix them expeditiously
I also wanted to write about the systematic issues disabled people (particularly those with “invisible” disabilities or those who are “undiagnosed”), I feel like I’ve been experiencing a lot of issues and push back from a system which is not built for disabled people in mind (and often is used against the community in an attempt to eradicate the category). Furthermore, I wanted to explore the aspects in which traditional psychiatry/curative methods are not built for neurodivergent individuals specifically. We often get diagnosed (especially those who have been socialized or perceived as female) with other disorders because of the perpetual stigma against ADHD, and autism in particular. Mainly why I didn’t go the psychology/psychiatry route, despite (one of) my undergrad major(s). It would have been immoral for me to be one, if held up to the current regulations set by the American Psychology Association, or the regulations in my home country. Anyways, lots of problems I wanted to address‒ not sure if I was able to explore them more at length, but I’d like to do more of this in the future.
The book Smoke in your Eyes is a reference to Caitlin Doughty’s book. I highly highly highly recommend her youtube channel and any of her books tbh. She writes/talks a lot about death culture and our perceptions of death throughout history, and creating a more death-positive culture.
I wanted to avoid some of the common stereotypes and misconceptions of OCD, which is predominantly characterized by excessive handwashing, needing things very neat and in place. I wanted to explore the more internal obsessions, rather than focus solely on the external compulsions‒ as I feel like the external behaviors that are often portrayed in media don’t explore the inner workings that make the disorder so hard to live with (and treat).
#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland angst#twisted wonderland fanfic#twisted wonderland fan fiction#twisted wonderland riddle rosehearts#riddle rosehearts#twst riddle#twst riddle rosehearts#disney twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland scenerios#twisted wonderland sibling
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Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology 10: The Immune System
A worryingly comprehensive and extremely unofficial guide to Gallifreyan and Time Lord/Lady Anatomy and Physiology, constructed with love and sweat.
This is a project that attempts to draw together everything we know about gallifreyan anatomy from every source available to place it in a valid biological system, like some Grey’s Anatomy textbook you didn’t know you needed.
The author of this has no affiliation with the BBC, and owns nothing but this lovely chocolate bar and good intentions. Nothing in this guide should be taken as de facto and everything should be free to be challenged and changed. I welcome any comments, questions, points of interest, or corrections - just aim at my inbox.
Absolutely nothing in this guide constitutes professional medical advice. Always seek your human advice from a healthcare provider, and always seek your gallifreyan advice from a hospitaller on Gallifrey.
This is version 1.10.x See the main document or Tumblr masterpost for the latest version.
x Tumblr Masterpost
x Main document with sources (Google Docs, not optimised for mobiles)
x Tumblr tag page with Q+As etc.
x Glossary
The Immune System
AKA They say doctors make the worst patients. Luckily, this Doctor has quite a few tricks up his sleeve so when the Daleks arrive he’s not worried about his cold or his ‘hurty’ toe.
Contains:
Context & Anatomy
Structure
Defence & Response - Innate immune response, Adaptive immune response
Vulnerabilities - Illnesses, Immunodeficiencies and Autoimmune Disorders, Allergies
Healing - Normal healing, Healing coma, Other helpers
Sex, Age & Regeneration
Summary
Key: [External link] [Guide link] [Glossary link]
11.1 Context & Anatomy
The immune system is, unsurprisingly, very, very good and is far more streamlined than a human.
It comprises the lymphatic system (with lymph vessels and lymph nodes), the spleen, the thymus, and the kidney, with minor players the tonsils and adenoids.
It has the same goal as humans - don’t let the nasties kill you!
Please remember throughout as because Timegri have a far higher baseline of artron, their immune response and healing abilities are significantly better than normal gallifreyans.
11.2 Structure
The Immune System can be extremely complicated and needs some explaining, so this is a simplified version while still trying to be as detailed as possible. Grab a drink and get ready to concentrate!
It’s a little bit easier to imagine the immune system as an army. Picture the universe as a very hostile place, with the gallifreyan body as a lonely world under constant threat of invasion. The other countries represent different body systems and the army’s number one objective is to stop the planet being invaded.
The lymphatic system is the world map, because you need some roads (lymph vessels) to get around and some checkpoints (lymph nodes) to check people’s documentation as they pass through. Not only do you need these main roads, there’s also lots of bridges leading to other countries to cover the entire world.
The buildings
So there’s the terrain, so what about the buildings? First you need some key structures so you can store troops, ammunition, and maintain communication with each other and contact the brain HQ.
The spleen is the recruitment centre and barracks, because you need somewhere to recruit and train your troops. The gallifreyan spleen creates immune cells and trains them while they wait for the call to fight off an invader. While there, it’s ensured that they have all the latest equipment, training, and intelligence.
Every good army needs a load of nerds and maintenance services, so the gallifreyan thymus is the administrative and maintenance buildings. It manufactures lymph fluid (opici fluid) and makes sure all the lymph vessels are clean and free from obstructions and filled with defensive patrols (D-cells).
Not actually part of the human Immune System, the kidney is a kind of supply/weapon/provisions provider in gallifreyans. It’s the main producer of artron, which is the energy used by the immune system to manufacture immune cells. Artron is present in all systems (particularly cardiovascular), and provides multiple healing benefits we’ll be going through below.
Finally, there’s the transport, known as opici fluid. This is the equivalent of lymph fluid; it circulates through the lymphatic vessels carrying all the troops around the body. It’s also in the nervous system in the place of what we would call our cerebrospinal fluid. In a thicker form - mixed with collagen - it’s also present in the integumentary and skeletal systems as a form of protection.
The personnel
Next, you need some personnel to fight against the invaders, from high command, through specialists, tacticians, medics, sappers, and ground troops.
The brain, the top brass: The Field Marshall, the five-star General, the toppermost of the poppermost, whatever your preference, the brain is constantly receiving communication from the immune system. It's through this it considers the state of the world and issues orders to its troops.
D-cells, the patrol/sentries: Their mission is to locate any potential enemy. If they find something unusual, they’ll alert the rest of the system immediately. They’re similar to human lymphocyte and mast cells, and have two distinct types:
D1-cells are the patrol. They constantly circulate the lymphatic system looking for anything they don’t recognise.
D2-cells are the sentries. These stand guard against attack, stationed strategically throughout the body.
Z-cells, the front line soldiers: Their mission is to kill the pathogen at any cost. They’re a mix of human phagocytes (macrophages and neutrophils), white blood cells, B lymphocytes and effector cells, and natural killer cells.
Z1-cells are infantry soldiers and non-specialised. They patrol the body and are always the first on the scene when a D-cell calls out for help. Z1-cells eat up anything they find suspicious (including infected gallifreyan cells) and keep doing it over and over. They can be killed, however, whether through age or the strength of a pathogen, and their bloody remains are what pus is made from. So if your gallifreyan starts producing pus, then their immune system is having quite a fight.
Z2-cells are specialised soldiers. They’re trained to change their type of attack to deal with one particular type of enemy, making them extremely effective killers. They have the best weapons and best tactics, able to destroy pathogens on sight as they can be absolutely packed with specific antibodies they fire out like machine guns for days on end. What antibodies they use is dictated by the M1-cells.
ZX-cells are the berserkers. Only called upon in the direst of situations when Z1-and Z2-cells have failed their mission, they run in screaming and shouting and firing all their guns simultaneously hoping to try and kill the enemy as a Last Stand, but they’re liable to kill their own comrades in friendly fire.
M-cells, the tacticians: Their mission is to learn as much about the enemy as possible in order to use that intelligence against it in the future. They can be equated to memory cells in humans.
M1-cells are the intelligence officers. Every single one has access to the entire known database of pathogens (imagine it like a Wikipedia of the body’s known immunities). On arriving at the infection site, they can identify a certain type of pathogen by being able to recognise its unique antigens. Once they know what they’re looking at, they tell the Z2-cells to manufacture antibodies specific to that pathogen and attack.
M2-cells are the spies. Looking to collect as much information about the enemy as possible, they take it back to the spleen to improve training and expand the database.
Artron cells, the field medics and sappers: They’re a little harder to put into our army metaphor simply because they tend to do their own thing. They work around the main immune cells, helping where they can. They want to:
Stop the fires (by clotting the wound)
Clean up the bodies (by removing dead cells)
Rebuild the physical defences (by healing the wound)
Recruit for the army (by helping to replace dead immune cells)
11.3 Defence & Response
Any attempt of a pathogen to enter a gallifreyan will be met with the same immune response pathway, whether it's a virus, bacteria, fungi, parasite etc., and through this there are two lines of defence the pathogen will encounter - the innate response and the adaptive response.
11.3.1 Innate Immune Response
The innate immune response is the first line of defence. Pretty much anything that does some work to try and stop infection without actually knowing exactly what it’s looking at is part of the innate system, and most of it is present from birth. It can be broken down three ways: physical barriers, defence mechanisms, and general immune response.
The innate immune system is non-specific. Non-specific means defences that aren’t explicitly recognising pathogens for what they actually are; they’re just coming across cells that look a bit strange and are deciding to get rid of them.
1: Physical barriers
Skin, body hair, eyelashes etc. all help to defend against pathogens trying to enter the body, by being actual physical barriers. I know you absolutely read and memorised these systems of course, but here's a convenient reminder that gallifreyans have very tough skin and weather-resistant hair, for starters. These, and more, make it much more difficult for gallifreyans to become ill in the first place.
2: Defence mechanisms
Tears, mucus, sweat etc., this also includes special gallifreyan abilities like stomach filtration, blood filtration etc. and also sealing (see below), all of which are designed to sweep out pathogens ASAP.
Sealing
A special ability for gallifreyans is known as sealing. This defence mechanism involves the overproduction of mucus from every orifice (including nose, ears, and eyeballs) to oust pathogens and create a non-porous barrier, which prevents any intrusion on a molecular level. This is especially useful in hostile atmospheres, but also prevents essentials such as oxygen, so cannot be used for longer than the respiratory bypass system can stay activated.
The Rusty Nail (part 1)
So let’s say your gallifreyan is walking along minding their own business when they suddenly trip and impale their hand onto a dirty nail. What happens next?
3: General immune response
This is the initial immune system response, including inflammation and basic immune defences. D-cells alert the immune system to the intruder and release histamine, which causes inflammation in the area. Z1-cells and artron cells respond to the call for help.
The Rusty Nail (part 2+3)
11.3.2 Adaptive Immune Response
If the first line of defence above fails, the second line of defence is called on like a SWAT team. In humans it's usually split into two responses (humoral and cell-mediated) but in gallifreyans these responses are merged into one, and instead we are looking at two stages:
Stage 1: Initial Adaptive Response
This is the adaptive system’s targeted reaction to the pathogen.
The immune system receives the call for backup from the D-cells.
M1-cells, M2-cells, and Z2-cells flood the area with additional support from more artron.
M1-cells identify the enemy or its closest match and instruct Z2-cells what antibodies to use.
Z2-cells fire out antibodies as the remaining Z1-cells give support. M2-cells hang back and record what happens to improve the immune system’s knowledge on this pathogen.
Hopefully, that’s that!
The Rusty Nail (part 4)
Stage 2: Immunocataclysm
If that didn’t work, we’re now in dire straits. All the Z1-cells are dead and the rest of the Immune System can’t produce enough Z2-cells to fight the tide. The gallifreyan is incredibly ill. Here, the immune system decides that in order to survive, it’s willing to take a massive risk in the form of ZX-cells. ZX-cells are extremely effective but an incredible liability, as their weapons are so powerful they can accidentally kill friendly cells in the gallifreyan’s body. By the end of this stage, the gallifreyan will be dead or alive.
The Rusty Nail (part 5)
Immunity
The adaptive immune system is ‘specific’ in contrast to the innate system, meaning it knows what it’s looking for and it's very good at killing it, but does need to see a pathogen and recognise it as a threat before it can do this. Once it’s encountered the pathogen, it will remember it forever and know how to deal with it when it comes again. This is immunity.
Immunity can some from several sources - Gallifreyans can develop antibodies after being exposed to certain diseases, allowing them to resist these diseases in the future. These primarily come in the form of actually encountering the pathogen organically, by vaccine, or passively.
Passive immunity gained from others - for example, as mentioned in the cardiovascular system, a blood transfer from a gallifreyan can contain antibodies which the receiver can learn from and use to fight pathogens (just be careful who you give it to). Additionally, every new gallifreyan coming into the universe arrives with a pretty decent preloaded database of antibodies that the immune system already knows, which have been learnt through their mother (for womb-born) or put in their biodata (for loom-born). Many of these antibodies are retained until they reach First Maturation.
Their immune system doesn’t need much exposure to create the right antibodies, but it does take some time to make them.
11.4 Vulnerabilities
Okay, so despite all of the defences outlined above, your gallifreyan becomes ‘under the weather’, as my mum says. So what are they likely to catch? Well …
11.4.1 Illnesses
As outlined above and across this document, gallifreyans are pretty good with most known illnesses, however, they are able to catch some diseases particularly familiar to us, such as the common cold, pneumonia, and tonsillitis, however, they are quite rare and for the most part they’ll handle these a lot better than us, and heal faster.
However, there are far worse diseases out there for them. Here’s a few of the other diseases bouncing around the universe that could ravage your gallifreyan.
“The Ablative”
Abridgement syndrome
Biodata viruses
The Cheetah Virus
Chen-7 or One Day Plague
Dogma Virus
Light wave sickness
Mutagenic viruses
Radiation poisoning
Sentient viruses
Spectrox toxaemia
Temporal diseases
All of these are pretty nasty and I’d encourage further reading if you're so inclined. Some will be covered in more detail in the regenerative system section (link to be added).
11.4.2 Immunodeficiencies and Autoimmune Disorders
These are very dangerous as they cause the immune system to be suppressed or stop working completely and come in several forms:
Primary immune deficiency - conditions present from birth eg. severe combined immunodeficiency (SCID)
Acquired immune deficiency - conditions that weaken the immune system eg. chemotherapy
Overactive immune disorders - where the immune system over responds to usually harmless substances eg. asthma
Autoimmune disorders - where the immune system attacks healthy tissue eg. Type 1 diabetes
Gallifreyans have slightly different types of immune cells so they’re not going to be affected by these, at least, not in the form we know. For example, one of the most well known is the human immunodeficiency virus (HIV), a precursor to acquired immunodeficiency syndrome (AIDS). Gallifreyans can’t contract HIV as HIV attacks cells they don’t actually have, but there could easily be an equivalent especially for them which attacks the M1-cells, so the Z2-cells have no idea what antibodies to produce to attack the pathogen, but that’s all theoretical.
In summary, gallifreyans can have immunodeficiencies and autoimmune disorders, but they can never be quite what we understand them as and I look forward to seeing any creative interpretations!
11.4.3 Allergies
Despite the level of sophistication in the immune system, gallifreyans do have their particular weaknesses, with special shoutouts for both praxis chemicals and aspirin.
Praxis gas
Praxis gas is most commonly used in chemical warfare in Gallifrey’s universe, with uses including performance-enhancing drugs, weapons, and booby traps, among many more delights, I’m sure.
Gallifreyans are allergic to gases in the praxis range, triggering a reaction akin to acute hypersensitivity pneumonitis. Depending on their level of exposure and how long they go untreated, their symptoms can progress from mild sneezing and coughing, to coma, even resulting in death.
Treatment and Prognosis
Concerning drugs, it's a bit difficult to say what would be the best option as it's a bit hard to determine what kind of gas praxis is in its most dangerous form, however, it seems to match most up with a nerve agent when used as a weapon, in which case atropine would be the numero uno problem solver with a little help from our old friends corticosteroids for immediate treatment. Supplementary oxygen is always a good avenue to take, and even quercetin (found in most foods, like onions, apples, and yeah you guessed it - celery … and tea!) can help greatly, even in the moderate-severe stages.
Prognosis is pretty good even for the most severe form of this, so long as the gallifreyan gets treatment, a full recovery can be made in 1-3 days.
Aspirin
Far more of a problem than praxis gases, gallifreyans have a serious issue with this drug. Aspirin is an antiplatelet drug, which means it works to inhibit the clotting of blood by stopping platelets from gathering. In humans this is a great thing in the right place - people use antiplatelet drugs to reduce the risk of clots.
If a gallifreyan takes a standard dose of Aspirin (usual prescription 300–600mg for pain/pyrexia), it primarily causes an instant anaphylactic-like reaction. The gallifreyan's body perceives an immediate threat and floods itself with too many over-responsive chemicals. Put simply, the D-cells shout, ‘OH MY WORD WHAT IS THAT THING EVERYBODY HELP HELP HELP!’, which causes the entire immune system to panic. The gallifreyan can’t control this complete overreaction hormonally, setting off a chain reaction leading to multiple embolisms which reaches peak severity in 3-30 minutes:
Treatment and Prognosis
This can be treated with the usual epinephrine/adrenaline as soon as it can possibly be administered. High-flow oxygen may be required and intravenous fluids, with continued monitoring. They can also counter it with chocolate in the early stages, as chocolate is naturally medicinal for gallifreyans and is particularly effective for aspirin.
It is possible the reaction may be biphasic, meaning after treatment a second attack could occur from 1 hour to 72 hours. Even if not biphasic, full recovery can take up to a week. If the reaction is allowed to continue for too long, they may end up suffering from long-term brain damage through stroke, heart conditions, and ongoing respiratory issues.
If that wasn't enough for you
Due to the severity of this reaction it’s entirely reasonable to assume any haemostatic drugs (drugs affecting bleeding) will cause mild to severe reactions in gallifreyans. Some common drugs prescribed by well-meaning medics to reduce clotting might include clopidogrel, heparin, warfarin, and dalteparin (the latter here we commonly call it the trade name in UK hospitals - Fragmin). Some drugs used to increase clotting (ie. in the event of surgery/major trauma or haemophilia) include thrombin, tranexamic acid, desmopressin, etamsylate, and also vitamin K (AKA don’t eat your greens if you’re gallifreyan).
The gallifreyan would have to eat some aspirin unknowingly in order for all this to occur, but severe reactions can be caused by even touching the filthy stuff. Stay safe, kids.
11.5 Healing
Okay, so that was all very depressing (actually really enthralling for me because I love the immune system but y’know) so here’s the nice section, detailing all the lovely ways a gallifreyan can heal themselves against all these nasty things.
11.5.1 Normal healing
I’ve covered normal healing processes throughout this guide (refer to each section for specifics) so here’s just a quick overview of what happens.
As a basic rule of thumb, gallifreyans heal around 1.5x faster than a human without any intervention. If they start pulling out all their biological tricks, they can drastically improve this.
Medical treatment: 2x faster
Medical treatment + healing coma: 3.5x faster
Medical treatment + healing coma + Zero Room: 6x faster
This means if a gallifreyan were to severely fracture their leg (which could take a human months to heal) if they used treatment, a healing coma, and the Zero Room constantly, they would probably be partially mobile after 3 days, out of a cast after 7-9 days and be completely healed without a trace in 12 days.
11.5.2 The Healing Coma
Also known as a healing trance, the healing coma is yet another of those quirky gallifreyan tricks. If their illness of physical trauma is severe but non-fatal, there’s an excellent chance that using a healing coma is going to sort them out.
Your gallifreyan is sleeping and not dead
As discussed throughout this entire guide, gallifreyans have very high levels of control over their bodies through being able to manipulate everything from their heartsrate and blood pressure right down to hormones. This allows them to enter a voluntary state of accelerated healing by drastically reducing the demand of other systems to concentrate on powering the immune system through sheer heat. This massive heat boost means that Z2-cells and artron healing cells can be manufactured like absolute lighting.
This will dramatically reduce lifesigns:
Heartsrate will reduce to under 10 beats per minute
Blood pressure will reduce to under 10/5
Temperature will reduce to under 5°C / 41°F
Respiratory rate will be 0
Pupils will not dilate with light
In general, they will not react to verbal prompts, touch, or pain stimuli
Rather unfortunately, to the casual observer this state makes gallifreyans appear dead to the point their lifesigns may not even register on any human medical equipment. It is however extremely effective, increasing the healing rate by around 2.5 times depending on the severity of the injury. While in this state they can’t have any real thoughts, but they will be able to perceive any sensory inputs and can be woken up. However, ripping a gallifreyan out of a healing coma can cause significant injury due to the sudden need to reboot all systems, most notably a neuron implosion, where every single neuron in the brain bursts into extreme activity in a brainstorm, causing a severe headache, fainting, and potential brain damage.
Once awake, they will experience high levels of hunger and thirst as their body has spent the time in the healing coma using glucose and water to manufacture and circulate immune and artron cells.
11.5.3 Other helpers
There are a few substances which can help the immune system produce the cells needed for both combating pathogens and general healing. Already mentioned is chocolate, alongside quercetin in several consumables including celery and tea. The pollen of rosemary flowers is also a peculiar restorative. In addition, there is the lindos hormone. This is what allows a gallifreyan to regrow limbs shortly after regenerating and it's extremely powerful, however, it’ll be discussed more in the Regenerative System (link to be added).
11.6 Sex, Age & Regeneration
11.6.1 Sex
This is sex specific to the immune system. For wider explanations, see the basics main section.
Those with more feminine hormones will have a greater innate and adaptive immune response compared to masculine bodies, as they are able to produce antibodies far quicker in response to pathogens - masculine bodies are more likely to have problems fighting off infection than feminine bodies. However, this also gives feminine bodies predisposition to autoimmune diseases.
11.6.2 Age
This is age specific to the immune system. For wider explanations, see the basics main section.
Young gallifreyans are highly tenacious and resistant to immune attack through their innate and passive immune system. They’re extremely unlikely to become ill, and if they do, it’ll usually be a quick shrug of the shoulders. However, if their mother/biodata had any kind of fault or susceptibility, they will be directly affected by that problem, whether that be through an immunodeficiency condition or problems fighting off the related infection. This will usually correct itself by First Maturation.
Once again I’ll state how getting older is a right old strain on the systems, as I have throughout the guide. In humans, usually the thymus slowly shrinks and turns to fat after puberty, but in gallifreyans it remains active. However, as a gallifreyan gets beyond 900 in a single body:
Less immune cells are produced
Old chronic viral infections can be reactivated
Lower response to vaccines
Innate system is less adept
Repair mechanisms are impeded
Long term health conditions are increased
All of this means older gallifreyans are more susceptible to diseases and can actually suffer from viruses they already fought off in their youth.
11.6.3 Regeneration
This is regeneration specific to the immune system. For wider explanations, see the Regenerative System (link to be added) main section.
Regenerating causes the entire immune system to reset to factory settings, so they have a squeaky clean new combative system. However, it doesn’t get erased - antibodies developed in previous incarnations will persist in subsequent bodies, meaning once a disease has been contracted and fought off by the gallifreyan, they will keep those antibodies and that helpful immune Wikipedia until their final death.
Really important to note here is that immediately following regeneration their immune system will be extremely weak, which will build back up during the following moulding period (6-8 weeks). This window increases their susceptibility to illness, although keep in mind they’re not going to die of a cold.
Gallifreyans can regenerate with primary immune deficiencies, which are likely to persist throughout the rest of that body unless they can be cured. In addition, there are some seriously spicy and, frankly, extremely fun illnesses involved specifically with regeneration, but they’ll be covered in the regenerative system section (link to be added).
11.7 Summary
Their immune system is mostly identifiable to a human but carries plenty more bells and whistles and works far more efficiently.
The kidney’s production of artron is crucial to this system.
They have both innate and adaptive immune responses as the first and second lines of defence.
Alongside particular allergies that can be fatal, they also have their own set of illnesses and immune system disorders.
Healing is much faster than humans and can be accelerated by technology and the healing coma.
Antibodies created in previous incarnations will persist throughout their lifespan.
Rejected evidence:
Not so much rejected, more ‘pending’ ... because someone didn’t Google properly - trying to get a reasonable and believable embolism out of an antiplatelet drug was hard enough but this was just too much for me to compensate for:
‘Triglycerides in chocolate combat the antiplatelet effect of the aspirin’
Whoever wrote this needs to take a long hard look at themselves:
‘It was said to either fatally stop platelet aggregation …’
Fever’s not a virus on its own, it’s a symptom, and for the life of me I can’t find anything at all on the flu and I have a fear it’s probably a misreading of TV: The Caretaker, so I’m not including it until I can find something concrete.
‘They are vulnerable to some earth viruses, like influenza, fevers [...]
This is literally just putting words together, but this was covered in the cardiovascular blood transfusion section so I’m happy to leave it there.
‘Their antibodies are symbiotic so if a Gallifreyan is injected with a sample of genetically contaminated blood’ …etc.
Curious about something? Need some creative gallifreyan biology-related advice? Wanna say hi? Ask away!
#fcgallifreyana&p#doctor who#dw#gallifreyan biology#gallifreyan physiology#gallifreyan anatomy#gallifreyan#anatomy#time lords#dw meta#updating all the other sections over next few days#reproductive system next good luck me
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I posted 2,196 times in 2022
That's 634 more posts than 2021!
264 posts created (12%)
1,932 posts reblogged (88%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@criedlikeatrueknight
@unxpctedlygreat
@fairyblue-alchemist
@officialfelixfraldarius
@pinkbaron
I tagged 506 of my posts in 2022
#dimi breaks the silence - 110 posts
#fire emblem three houses - 64 posts
#dimitri alexandre blaiddyd - 54 posts
#fe3h ocs - 43 posts
#fire emblem warriors three hopes - 39 posts
#allan montgomery blaiddyd - 39 posts
#felix hugo fraldarius - 38 posts
#fodlan frames - 23 posts
#ask - 22 posts
#rufus thierry blaiddyd - 17 posts
Longest Tag: 139 characters
#it was also the first time i was hospitalized for psychosis and put on meds that i blamed my lack of sense of taste on for the next 7 years
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
There is only one correct way to play Dimitri in Three Hopes
Play like Dimitri:
-break everything whether you mean to or not
-break Areadbhar from one single Atrocity by accident because Blaiddyd keeps activating even though it's SUPPOSED to be 20% chance
-kill every last one of them, good thing you can't damage your allies anyway
-weapon triangle? No, I'm charging straight into the frontlines.
101 notes - Posted June 24, 2022
#4
I'm in a mood to think about the Faerghus Fathers helping out with each others' kids. Was Rodrigue the designated babysitter father for the Faerghus Four, who is patient and never gets frustrated when Dimitri accidentally breaks something because he's seen it all from Lambert before? Did Matthias tell silly stories about the things that he did with Lambert in the academy with a wistful look on his face? Could Lambert have emptied out a day or two of work just to take the kids camping, and taught them about cooking over a campfire while Sylvain tries to be cheeky? Gunnar meeting Rodrigue for tea to bring their houses closer in understanding, while Glenn, Felix and Ingrid played games?
There is just so much I want to think about.
129 notes - Posted July 19, 2022
#3
I'm not sure how many of my fellow chronic illness pals know this, but when someone says "what are you even stressed about? You aren't even working/studying/whatever daily grind activity, you're just at home lazing everyday", that's not true at all!
You're stressed because your body is trying to keep systems running even through messed up, straight up wrong or otherwise abnormal signals. Different systems are messing with each other and all your little cells are just as frustrated and confused as you are. Your entire body is under a kind of stress that isn't externally applied and people seem to forget that exists a lot.
You're also stressed because the world is moving so quickly and you might be struggling to keep up, or even to cope with drastic world change, or even simply worrying about your own future. You are overwhelmed, it is real, and it is valid.
It is okay to be stressed even if you're not working full time or pursuing your Dreams™️ or studying, even if you're just laying in bed fogging in and out of sleep. Just remember that.
135 notes - Posted September 10, 2022
#2
Fire Emblem Three Blaiddyds
See the full post
138 notes - Posted June 10, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
Today I am appreciating Rodrigue's little hints of playful cheekiness. Even in his 40s, for all his refined noble etiquette and calm maturity, he still has his moments of being funny.
Things as implicit as pointing out that Felix is good-looking, all while unsubtly suggesting where it comes from (him), to things much more explicit, like that line of his when you order him to attack "Come, let us catch them napping!" in a tone that is akin to a child playing a prank with their friends.
Rodrigue really isn't as composed and perpetually elegant as you think. Lambert, Matthias and Rodrigue were once all feisty messes and you cannot tell me that Rodrigue was the only logical, level-headed and reasonable one. Matthias? Would throw hands and joke around, but is strategic in getting things done. Lambert? Would throw hands and skip classes from time to time, but cares about others and knows how to lead. Rodrigue? Would joke around and enable his friends' dumbasssery, but knows how to be decisive and assertive when it matters. They had brain cells. They just chose not to use it, as teens tend to do.
Though, now that makes me sad, considering how Sylvain, Dimitri and Felix are all comparatively much less carefree than their fathers were in their time. That somehow for all that they present, it's more than clear still that the future weighs on their mind as much, if not more than the present does.
170 notes - Posted July 20, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
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Is Tumblr the best social media platform? Not in the slightest. But as Twitter (X) turns into a trash fire of spam, bots, and increasingly bizarre hysterics from seemingly everyone, there's something comforting in returning to familiar territory where you have more control.
To be able to once again have an uncapped limit for the amount of words I'm allowed to use to get my point across. To be able to organize my posts with functional tags, not just for discovery, but for personal organization as well. To be able to post a multitude of images, videos, links, or gifs without the website shredding the quality, or virtually screaming at me for not making them enough money. Of the site not scrambling the order and viability of my posts based on what an algorithm perceives is the "correct order for maximum discovery" (r.i.p. context and narrative cohesion practically everywhere else). To edit anything I post, whenever it is necessary.
Likewise, even if people don't care for this particular website (tough cookies, because I'm not paying a monthly fee to occasionally post nonsense), it's something all people, regardless of having their own domain, are capable of interacting with to either view posts or ask questions. Since apparently my Twitter (X) handle has been locked to only those who have an existing account with the platform.
And, as odd as this sounds for someone with noticeable dyslexia like myself, I actually prefer writing to talking. There's just something calming about being able to take my time with a response, rather than be forced to get an exact sentence structure and flow all in one go. To have the ability to (attempt to) proof-read my thoughts before hitting 'send'. It's a dying aspect of old social media that I've missed greatly. And something I often struggle with during streams, as it can be hard for me to get my points across verbally at times. I have...a very different mindset and focus when allowed to communicate silently.
As a bonus, I'm also no longer tied to Tumblr's main system for discoverability, as reblogs can now be turned off entirely (and will remain that way)! Meaning a blog can just be a blog, and not a hot mess of a debate floor with bored, ill-intended people. Because sometimes the best spaces are the quietest spaces.
For now, I'll probably just stick to project thoughts and updates, with the occasional dash of IRL. Maybe since I plan on streaming/recording less games in the future due to burnout and time constraints, I'll put some of my thoughts about what kinds of games or media I finish here? I'm not really sure. Like everything else I do online, it could end up going totally nowhere. Which in 2024...is probably for the best.
But it's still nice to get my thoughts out on occasion, as well as have an outlet to slingshot ideas around like one of those rubber sticky hands, and see what kind ultimately ends up sticking to the ceiling. Which is to say, next to nobody will ever read this and I couldn't be happier about it.
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Hey dust!
I'll read your new post in like 10 minutes(I hope, i cant be so active on tumblr because of some private reasons) but I saw your little vent and I wanted to say that I really belive in you, I know you can do everything on your mind!
I can understand the pressure you're under rn, we have a similar system here. But if you belive in yourself, nothing can stop you!!
I just want you to know even tho we aren't that close you can always rely on me and come to me if you need to talk and relax. I can go off-anon[or in-non?not sure if its correct] and give you my socials.
AND HERE IS A BIG HUG FOR YOU 🫂
good luck on your finals, I know they are important and requires a lot of working but please please please please don't overwork yourself, don't forget eating or drinking and having fun. If you do, I'll bite your toes when you're sleeping >:]
I still have a lot of things to catch up, I'll post a complete review when I'm done, but for latest post a separate note cuz D I L U C
AND I SAW THE STORY THAT IS INSPIRED BY MY DREAM AND AAAAHHH IM SO HAPPY ILL READ IT AS SOON AS I FINISH CATCHING UP WITH DUST [id love to tag the accountbut my b12 doesn't allow me to remember oops]
LOVE YOU LOTS OF KISSES AND HUGS
-⛄️
Hi nonnie!! Thanks so much for your reassuring words and for reaching out to me. I'll have to stay positive as much as possible but August will probably the most mentally taxing month of my entire life so far.
I'm just happy once all the exams are over and I pray I pass because god knows I don't want to have to go through it a second time.
I'm already doing a bit better than I did earlier. I took a break and played a bit of Genshin & stared at Ayato
Also please don't bite my toes while I'm sleeping, I'll try and take care of myself, haha! >.<
I'm curious what you'll think about the things I've written recently. It's a bit angsty but I guess that's mostly what my brain is able to produce at the moment, thanks to irl angst 😂
And thanks for wanting to post reviews for my works, it literally means so much to receive feedback on my work. An author's biggest motivation is when people talk top them about the things they've written. Always makes my day 🥺
The dream inspired story was from @polalcee (I didn't get around to reading it yet either, shame on me ;_;)
Lots of hugs back to you! Hope everything is good and that you maybe get more time for fun things like tumblr again, too 🤭
#🍁 dust mail#🍁 mail from: ⛄ anon#thanks so much for your words#I'm legit touched#I have to tell myself I can do it#It probably won't end as bad as I think it will#I srsly don't deserve you all#you're all so nice ;_;
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work with me
this is for @worldoftom 'lolbrosgetsicktoo' challenge event thing - go check it out bcos lots of much better writers have got involved too✨! I'm v new to these things but I tried :) the prompt was: 'would you quit whining and just get in the bath' . (also look at me acc posting sort of regularly, who'd of thought?!?!)
warnings: sickness / fever (more dramatic than it needs to be) / LOTS of medical inaccuracies
summary: when tom doesn't take advice and ends up very ill, very far from home, there's one person whose stuck dealing with it
“Please Tom… I need you to work with me!”
It wasn’t his fault he was being a complete nightmare, though your patience was wearing off somewhat.
For context, you were in Morocco, where he had been filming part of his next film, which only made trying to take care of him that bit harder.
Everyone got ill sometimes. It wasn’t his fault.
That was the mantra ringing through your head, even if you had a more challenging time believing it. Tom wasn’t stupid, as much as he liked to joke about it. HOWEVER, what he was less good at was heeding warnings. He was a white boy in Morrocco; the health and safety briefing had literally been aimed at him. Had he taken the advice not to eat any dodgy looking meats at the market?
Of course not; that’d be boring.
Everyone else was fine. You’d all sampled Morroccos culture without giving yourselves the worst case of food poisoning you’d ever witnessed. But not Tom - possibly one of the only ‘indispensable’ people on the set. If you, or one of the minor characters, or even the director, had got ill - the show could continue.
When you’d been rudely awoken by your phone going off, you’d known instantly. It was as if you’d told him not to take a bite out of the weird burger once you were away from the eager view of the street vendor. Sure enough, with bleary eyes, you hissed at the brightness of the phone screen before seeing ‘Tom H’ on the screen.
“Y/n?” His voice was croaky, but just from the single call of your name, it was clear he was feeling sorry for himself.
“Are you okay? It’s late T.”
“Um I… can you come over? You…you might need the key I’m - um- in the bathroom.”
As his stylist, it technically wasn’t part of your job description to also be mother when he was sick, but (unfortunately for you) after the 3 years working side by side with him - you were also friends.
Which you were almost regretting by the second time rinsing the toilet bowl clean after he’d evacuated what seemed to be the majority of his vital organs into it. Honestly, it was impressive how he managed to keep going.
That had been at around 4 in the morning- the doctor had been called at 8, coinciding beautifully with his 5th toilet extravaganza. Once the doctor had confirmed your original, if completely unqualified, diagnosis of food poisoning - you hadn’t been able to bite your tongue. Perhaps an ‘i told you so’ might’ve slipped past your lips, but Tom was a bit too out of it to argue back.
You’d been given firm advice from the doctor - he said little sips of water, rest and control his temperature. It all had seen pretty simple - though the action? Not so much.
It wasn’t his fault, yet Tom was not super compliant. You and Harry had both been taking turns in practically forcing him to take sips of water, having to turn off ‘modern family’ till he did. The blackmail had put you both in his bad book.
Honestly, thank the lord Harry was here too. You’d woken him up at seven, begging for help and since then, you’d tagged teamed. While one was looking after Tom, the other was phoning the director, the doctor, and the crew to inform them of the current situation.
Again, of all people. Why’d it have to be Tom?
Mainly because you knew how mortifying he found this. He didn’t like people fussing over him, never had. He liked to work hard, liked to make people happy - definitely didn’t like to feel a burden. Perhaps what made him feel ten times worse was that he knew he was inconveniencing the whole production team massively.
And yes, as you’d unhelpfully reminded him, it was ‘his fault’.
The lavish hotel room, big bathroom and pretty efficient AC still didn’t manage to mask the pungent in-the-back-of-your-throat smell from the bathroom. At the doctor’s advice, who had been a little concerned at Toms fever, Harry had cranked the AC on high. It had forced you to steal one of Tom’s big hoodies and a pair of joggers- you hadn’t left his room since he first called you, still wearing your tiny pyjama shorts and an old tee.
“Please turn the air con off.” His little voice whined from where he was lying, huddled up under the covers. Perched on the other side of the double bed, but over the covers with your laptop on his lap, you could actually feel him shivering with the chills. It felt like you were torturing the poor boy.
“T you know I can’t. It’ll make your fever worse.” The way he looked up at you, like a little Labrador that you were refusing to pet, actually pained your heart.
Okay, so yes it was his fault, but you weren’t mad, you just felt so awful for him.
“Please I’ll- I’ll pay you more.” His voice was hoarse; though he denied a sore throat, it sounded like the constant sickness was burning his windpipe.
“Tommm” you pouted, sticking your bottom lip out “I don’t want your money, want you to get better.”
Apparently giving up, brown eyes shot you the filthiest look in disappointment, rolling to face away from you. You thought he was giving you the silent treatment in a huff, but instead, he was praying on the weaker one.
“Harry, I’ll buy you that set of golf clubs-“
“NO!” You had to interrupt before Harry would say yes - because from the way his younger brother shot up from the arm chair, he was about to. Scowling eyes slowly focused back on you in annoyance, making you huff - shutting the laptop and kneeling on the bed to face him. After pressing the back of your palm to his forehead, which was scorching hot, you sighed. “I know you feel shitty and I’m so so sorry but I’m trying to make you better. So shut up, drink this and go to sleep!”
Like a child scorned, you received another death glare however, then he complied, taking a sip of the water you offered before lying back - huddling even tighter.
And it had been relatively peaceful for a few hours; Tom seemed to be getting some sleep - even if he was tossing and turning. Eventually, a prescription that the doctor had requested worked its way through the system, Harry getting a text to say he could go pick it up. The nearest pharmacy was probably a 30 minute drive from the hotel, so he left as soon as.
This left you alone with Tom, where the situation only descended into more chaos.
Almost as soon as Harry had left, Tom had stirred with a grunt. All it took was one look at his face for you to know. Both of you leapt up and flew into the toilet, Tom once again getting very familiar with the Moroccan toilet bowl.
This time though, when he had leant backwards, he’d sort of lost control and flopped most the way - you catching him before he could hit his head on the tiled floor.
“Woah, easy there!” It wasn’t like he’d passed out, but the look in his eye as he slumped into your lap… he wasn’t all there either. “Hey Tom… you with me? Tom?”
Lazily he blinked up at you, not really replying except for groans of half-formed words.
Deciding this had all got a bit direr, you almost sprinted back into the room, grabbing your phone and returning. He was still on the floor, his thumb and first finger pressing into each eye - groaning again.
“Hey Tom? I’m gonna call the doctor you need anything?” He whined in response, stopping only when you stroked his sweaty hair back, most of your attention on dialling the correct number.
The solution he’d given wasn’t pretty: Tom’s fever was too high hence why he was all woozy and groany. Until the doctor could get over with the stronger medications, you needed to lower his temperature in other ways or take him to hospital. He’d absolutely hate hospital, but the other choice? Boy, was he not going to like it either.
Ignoring Tom’s croaked question of what you were doing, you busied yourself switching on the bath taps. You let the water run until it was the right (very mild) temperate, then turned back to Tom, who’d managed to work himself up to sit against the sink unit.
“The doctor says you need it.” His brain was foggy, his mind was slow but your tone told him enough to know something was wrong with the bath. “Just take your clothes off and then I’ll help you-“
“Absolutely fucking not.” Good. He was still with it enough to argue.
“I am just as uncomfortable as you are Tom, but we both know you can’t stand up without fainting, so you are going to need my help.”
“Y/n!”
“Keep your boxers on and it’s just like a fitting! I’ve seen you have those before!”
It was clear as day just how emasculated he felt, especially because he knew you were right. Sitting up at this current moment was a push; there was no way he was getting in the bath without some help. Defeatedly he nodded, but gave you a piercing look to turn around before he started wiggling himself out of the flannel pyjama trousers and light cotton t-shirt. Most confusingly, he still felt freezing cold, yet he had long since learned not to argue with you - especially when your justification came from the advice of a doctor.
Your cue to turn around came in the form of an extra angry-sounding grunt- the look you got when you did wasn’t much better either. It was a weird contrast, though, having someone who physically appeared so indestructible (a superhero for crying out loud); to have been absolutely beaten to a pulp by a few mouth fulls of weird meat. You had seen his bare torso before, although it still wasn’t something easy to get used to - making you clench your teeth together just slightly. A very welcome view.
Perhaps you looked just a little too long at the man who was technically your boss, hunched angrily on the floor in nothing but his calvins - another grunt shaking you out of it. By now, the bath was almost full and you hurried to shut off the water, feeling your cheeks heat up as you cursed silently to yourself.
“Okay come on, gimme your arm.” Begrudgingly Tom followed your request, slinging his arm heavily over your shoulder as you crouched beside him. As strong as he looked, you knew right now he felt powerlessly weak - all that muscle was just going to be almost dead weight.
Now it was your turn to grunt and groan as you pulled Tom up to stand, him focusing on blinking away the headrush he got.
“Come on T work with me here.” Getting him to the side of the bath wasn’t too difficult, the issue came when he stepped with one foot into the bath and yelped, instantly withdrawing as if it was a literal ice bath.
The sudden movement had you both losing balance, ending with Tom sitting on the edge of the bath and you leaning over him, in between his legs, and slapping your hand on the wall opposite purely so you both didn’t end up in the bath.
“Tom!”
“It’s like ice water!”
“Its lukewarm like the doctor said!”
“It is not its from the fucking arctic!”
“Oh for god sake!” Exasperated, you paced up and down the bathroom shaking your head at his ridiculousness. This was ALL. HIS. FAULT.
You came back to him with an ultimatum.
“It’s this or the doctor said I had to drag your ass to hospital.”
“Nooooooo.” The 25 year old seemed to convert into a whiny three year old again.
“Those are the two options. So will you PLEASE quit complaining and get in the bath.”
Keeping up the toddler persona, Tom huffed but reluctantly nodded in agreement - you had come up trumps. It didn’t stop him yelping when you helped to lower him in. His breath was shaky, as a response to the ‘cold’, but he was firming it. At least when you felt his forehead after a couple of minutes, it certainly seemed as though the fever was starting to ease off .
“You can go if you want.” His voice was murmured and as you looked up at him, he did his very best to avoid your gaze.
“Not a chance, if you drown on my watch, Nikki will never forgive me.” At the very least he seemed to appreciate your joke, scoffing a little with a small nod. “If you don’t want me here I get it. As soon as Harry’s back, I’ll swap with him.”
“No! It’s not that its… I’m just an ass when I’m ill.”
“A self aware ass, though.” Again he chuckled a little, as you folded your arms on the edge of the porcelain tub, resting your head lying to one side. “You had me pretty scared there for a moment, you know?”
He nodded a little, creating a wave of ripples in the water which you watched to avoid his gaze - which you knew was tracing all your features inquisitively.
“Hey it’s in the job description, always a bit dramatic... I’m sorry though I should never of called you- don’t know why I didn’t just get Harry.” In response you tutted, taking a moment to lean up and push his sweaty curls back a bit.
Just because you could, it was allowed in this moment.
“’m glad you did.”
“Yeh me too” He sighed, eyes fluttering shut in the easy silence of the bathroom. You kept a vigilant eye on him for the next 20 minutes, checking the temperature of his forehead using the back of your hand, whilst he seemed to finally get a bit of proper restbite, appearing like the worst had passed. You had no idea what was taking Harry so long; in fact it was the doctor that arrived first- who you ran to let in (not wanting to leave Tom asleep in the bath one bit).
Whilst the doctor did all his checks, taking his temperature properly this time, satisfied that it was much more manageable. He still wanted to set him up with some oral rehydration rescue packs to get his hydration status a bit better and give some anti-sickness tablets and antipyretics.
Having actually been getting some rest before all the prodding and poking, Tom was back to being a grumbling dick - now not wanting to leave the bath (the irony was real - making you roll your eyes). Once again, he appeared embarrassed to have you see him like this, so you left the doctor to help him get out and changed- instead going down to reception to get a fresh set of sheets, as he’d done a pretty impressive job of sweating through the old ones.
Even if tired and grumpy, when Tom exited the bathroom, he looked much better - he was walking himself without the doctor’s help. Which honestly was such a relief because when he had passed out on you, you genuinely were terrified. Thankfully the doctor stayed for the next 20 or so minutes, which was just when Harry returned with a bag of medications - which were now wholly redundant, given the doctor had already supplied everything.
“What happened?” Harry asked you in a hushed voice, whilst Tom was distracted with getting his medications. Recounting the story of Tom pretty much passing out, Harry grimaced for you, then launching over to give you a tight hug.
“Are you okay?” That was a novel idea, you hadn’t really thought about yourself at all - but honestly, you were a bit shaken, having been running on adrenalin for most of the night.
“I-uhm… yeh I think so… just-just was a bit scared, I guess? Felt bad too because he didn’t want me there but-“
“I can promise you Y/n, he did want you there. Just probably embarrassed he wasn’t all manly and that…” With a nod, you smiled softly at the frizzy-haired boy.
Whilst working with Tom, it also meant getting pretty close to his younger brother. The two Hollands were almost attached at the hip, which you were very much okay with.
It was weird though... your relationships were completely different. Harry was just your brother, through and through. He wound you up like a sibling but also knew you as if he had your whole life. With Tom… it wasn’t that. Arguably, you were closer to Tom, but on a different level. It was more exciting, more nerve-wracking and heartwarming all at the same time. Honestly, you couldn’t get your head around it properly.
“Hey, you’re probably shattered. Why don’t you go back to your room and get some sleep? I got it in here.” You knew Hary was trying to offer something nice, and now all the excitement had worn off, you were unbelievably shattered. But you didn’t like the idea of not being there, as a just in case.
“Uhm, I think I might just stay, you know?” And he did, with a deliberate, knowing smile, he nodded.
He knew you were worried. He knew Tom had really really scared you. He also knew how much you cared about his brother.
Just like how Harry knew Tom wanted you there, even if he felt embarrassed. Well, anyone would- when you are passing out half-naked in front of the one person that really matters.
It was just at this point that the doctor was done, giving Harry instructions about the rest of the day, when you made a beeline for the bed. Tom was propped up against the headboard, still with a pale sullen look and tired eyes, but a bit less clammy and more human. He cracked a smile as you crawled up onto the other side of the bed, kneeling next to him.
“How’re you doin’?”
“All drugged up, just feel fucking exhausted.” Instinctively you reached up to feel his forehead, really appreciating the fact it felt almost normal.
“Join the club mate, I had a 5am wake up call too.” You almost whispered, intending to make Tom laugh, but instead only getting a pout.
“I am sorry, a-are you going to go back to your room?”
“Nah” Tom’s eyes didn’t light up, except the fact that they very much did. “Can’t trust you not to get into trouble while I’m gone Holland.”
“Thanks.” He laughed weakly before shimmying down on the bed, so he was much more comfortable. “And thankyou, I-I’m sorry I’m a dickhead and made your life-“
“Shut up Tom!” Laughing, you lightly slapped his arm, also leaning down on the bed, so you were lying facing him. “You’re all feverish; go to sleep before you say something stupid.”
There was a long pause, Tom just gazing deep into your eyes, because he was pretty sure what he was thinking was nothing to do with the dodgy unidentified meat he’d had the evening before.
“What... like asking you out?”
…..
“Maybe that wouldn’t be so stupid.”
~~~~im really not sure how I feel about this one, let me know what you thought ;) ~~~~
tagging: @lovehollandy12 @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter@hollandfanficlove
#tomholland#tom holland fluff#tom holland angst#tom holland x y/n#hurt comfort#tom holland x reader#tom holland imagine#harry holland
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I Don’t Trust You (Din Djarin x gn!Reader)
for @propertyofdindjarin - sorry its so late but i hope you enjoy this!!
Characters: Din Djarin x gn!reader (i dont think i used any gendered language in this but let me know if i did and ill change the tag)
Word Count: 8k (this really ran away with me lol)
Warnings: enemies to lovers, description of injury, canon level violence, little steamy (kissing, insinuated smut), threat of death, like one swear word, pre show! Din
Summary: The Mandalorian killed you two years ago, yet here you are alive and well on a different planet. The Mandalorian is called in to help you and your team of royal guards find a missing princess. Things go horribly wrong and you are left to journey home with your worst enemy...
A/N: shout out to the random radio 4 play that gave me the idea for the plot of this and to @propertyofdindjarin for the request for enemies to lovers! i’ve never done this trope before and im not sure if i really did it justice but i enjoyed writing it at least hahah i hope you like it too darling and thanks for requesting!
--
“The Master is calling in reinforcements from a bounty hunter for this mission,” The general in charge of your squad spoke as the team dressed.
“Who?”
“A Mandalorian,” The general answered.
“We don’t need a Mandalorian,” You spoke up bitterly, looking up as you finally pulled your boots on. The general sighed, used to your defiance and vocal hatred of The Mandalorian. He rolled his eyes at your attitude.
“We need all the help we can get on this,”
“I don’t need a Mandalorian,” You corrected yourself.
“I don’t care about your opinion. My word is final. And besides, there is nothing you can do he is arriving… now,”
A knock at the door turned everyone’s heads. The general nodded and it was opened to reveal the shining armour of the Mandalorian. You scowled as you watched the Mandalorian swan into the room, newly polished armour glinting in the light. You frowned and turned your attention away from him, just the sight of him made you exasperated.
You didn’t understand why The Master would want to bring him in, he was expensive and more importantly an asshole. All the hard work you and your team would put in on this mission would undoubtedly be overshadowed by him. He would be praised no end and paid a handsome fee while you would probably be berated for not meeting his standard and not get any reward for returning the princess.
It was the second attempt to get the Master’s daughter back from her kidnappers. The first time had been a complete failure and caused the gang to go into deeper hiding. It had taken weeks to locate her new location, there was no room for error this time. The princess had to be returned.
The Mandalorian had noticed you the moment he entered the room. He was surprised to see you alive at all, he’d assumed you were dead, having killed you two years prior. But here you were in a brand new system, alive and well. He didn’t say a word on the matter, he’d been paid for your bounty already, it wasn’t his fault you had miraculously survived.
You sat in silence, glaring at the Mandalorian across the room, while the General spoke about the plan for the mission. You grumbled and rolled your eyes when he made suggestions. The nerve of him. Coming here invited and not trusting your plan. The grumble earned you a sharp elbow in the ribs and a hiss to shut up.
With the plan set, you began the long trip out to the location. It was far, a days trip by speeder at least. Across plains, over mountains, through valleys and finally to the destination. A small building atop a large hill. It was strangely open, considering how long it had taken to find. The sun was going down by the time you arrived. You were apprehensive to approach so quickly, wanting to wait out but you had no power amongst this group, especially with the Mandalorian validating the plan there was no way you’d win. The group dismounted the speeders mere feet from the entrance, loaded their guns and went inside, barely stopping for a second once their feet touched the ground.
You however did not follow. Ordered to stay outside, they didn’t trust you. You were to keep watch, not that there was anything to watch for. Two years on the planet and you were still considered an outsider. Your reputation had not preceded you but it quickly caught up. Within two weeks of your arrival, whispers of your real name had floated across the galaxy until it landed into the mouth of the Master. You were allowed to stay, only if you joined the royal guard to put your skills to use.
The royal guard didn’t trust you, used you as a scapegoat on any occasion and sent you in many suicide missions purely because you were expendable. But as even the Mandalorian knew, you were very hard to kill. You came back every single time with nothing more than a scratch. Instead of your action gaining their trust it bred jealousy and mistrust.
You scuffed around the site, listening out for signs that the mission was complete or anyone was in trouble. The moon rose slowly into the sky, stars appeared with it giving you some entertainment as you tried to spot the constellations familiar to you. A twinge of anxiety cut your stomach, they should have been out long ago. You should have followed to help
Suddenly, a bone-breaking thunderous sound erupted from below and the ground began to shake. You were frozen to the spot until your spot began to fall away. The ground beneath you shook and collapsed inwards. You scrambled out the way, moving to where the ground was stable again. The building your squad had gone inside had collapsed, screams and cries of terror could be heard from inside. The building fell, then fell further. All you could do was watch in horror as where the building once stood, a crater appeared. Dust plumed from the wreck, filling your lungs and scratching your eyes. You coughed and spluttered, shielding your face from it.
Soon the dust settled and things became clearer. The devastation was all that was left. And the Mandalorian. Stood alone on the opposite side of the great crater, he looked down into the hole for a moment, thinking, before making his way around to where you were. He didn’t stop to talk to you as he passed, simply readjusting his vambrace and walking away. Disturbed by his lack of reaction it took you a moment to react, you watched him walk a few paces ahead before running after him.
“Hey!” You called after him, “Where are you going?”
“There’s no speeders. We’ll have to walk,” He said, not stopping.
“They’ll kill us if we return without the princess!” You protested.
“They’ll kill you when you don’t return with the girl,” Mando corrected you, “Unless you want to walk climb in there and search through rubble, the only thing to do is walk back,”
“It’ll take days! There’s no way you’d make it back to the city in one piece,”
“Who said I was going back there?”
“You have to finish the job,”
“The job is finished,”
“You arrogant son of a bitch,” You scoffed as he continued to walk away. He picked up his pace, “I told Illana that we didn’t need you,” You shouted angrily. Din didn’t reply, trying to block out your whinging. “You’re a waste of money, everyone knows Mandalorians don't work well in teams. There’s a reason you all got wiped out,” You snarled. That comment bristled Din. He knew you were only baiting for a fight, angry your squad had died and he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted. It wasn’t advantageous for anyone, “What happened in there? You blow it up to make the job easier? You killed them all,”
Din ignored your questioning. He hadn’t killed them, he had barely made it out alive
“She was just a child and you killed her, for what? Tell me!”
He turned when he heard the load up of a blaster behind him. Your blaster, loaded and waiting in your hand was pointed at his back while he walked ahead. He whipped around just as fast, his blaster pointed at you too.
“Really?” He asked.
“Talk,”
“It was a trap,”
“Liar!” You shouted.
“The girl was tied to some kind of trap that blew up the mines below the building. I was not in the room when the extraction happened. I didn’t do anything,” He explained, you didn’t reply, grinding your teeth as you tried to get your head around it. “Why would I kill them? I needed her alive,”
You hated that he was making sense. There was no real logical reason for him to kill the princess. He needed her alive to get his payment just as you did. You glared at him, fingers twitching over your blaster.
“Keep walking,” You said sternly. You turned the safety back on to the blaster though never lowering it. Din lowered his weapon. “I’m not having you anywhere out of my sight. Can’t trust you as far as I could throw you,”
Din huffed in agreement and turned to continue walking. Your blaster wasn’t going to do anything more than scuff his armour, he didn’t worry about you attacking him from behind. If you’d wanted to kill him you would have tried by now. Whatever made this whole ordeal go faster was what he was going to do.
You walked across the grassy plain for hours in total silence. At least outwardly silent. In your mind, you were cursing his name in every language you knew to any deity you could think of. Cursing him, his stupid armour and his stupid helmet. You cursed the planet, you cursed the city, you cursed the entire universe for forcing you to be stuck with the one man you hated most. You wished you had followed the squad and died with them, it would be more pleasant than this. At least with the pace the Mandalorian kept, you were going to be back to the city in record time, this nightmare could end.
Soon the grass gave way to shrubs and weeds, trees that were rare before now crowded around you. You came to a path, well-trodden and open, surprisingly. If it was this clear it was only a good thing, you were on the right path back.
“Stop,” You ordered as the path forked out in two directions. Din had chosen one path already, a few paces ahead. He stopped and turned around to see what the problem was. You were facing the second path, motioning with your blaster to cross over. “There’s a shortcut,” You said, “That forest opens back up in the West of the city. If memory serves me correctly it’ll cut our journey in half,”
“I don’t trust you,” Din said warily.
“Never said you had to trust me. If you carry on that way it’ll take another three days to walk around a huge lake and a ravine. This way cuts that out and we’ll be back in the city in two days,”
You walked forward into the break of trees, turning back when you didn’t hear him follow. He hadn’t moved, still calculating the decision. “Not scared are you, Mando?” You taunted him. “We don’t have much sunlight. Move,”
For a moment Din contemplated shooting you right there. You were rude and arrogant, nobody would question your death at all if he did it. His hand hovered over his blaster, before finally deciding against it. He needed the payment and with you alive at the end of it he would have proof he didn’t slaughter the entire garrison.
He followed you into the forest, walking in front of you as before. The trees were so dense, a few minutes of walking cut out all light. Spotlights of dusty yellow light broke through the canopy providing enough light inside to see your footing directly in front of you but nothing more. Roots covered the floor, winding around your ankles trying to pull you in so your body could supply nutrients for the plants. Branches caught on the Mandalorian’s shoulders, snapping back into your face often when they released. You learnt quickly to keep a few more paces back to stop the attacks.
You had heard stories about these forests. Fables told to the children in the city warning them of the dangers of the expansive green land. Most of them you knew to be just stories, but like most legends in the universe, there was truth to some. That knowledge kept you alert as you continued the walk.
Suddenly, the Mandalorian stopped in his tracks. You nearly crashed into him, not looking where you were going you were met with metal.
“Keep walking,” You ordered. He didn’t move, turning his head to look up at the canopy. You frowned, growing impatient. “What?”
“Quiet,” He hissed. You paused as you heard another shuffle you had thought to be Din moving. It was above you, beside you and behind you. Then you heard it, a shrill echoing cry from above. A cry you had been told to fear since day one on this planet.
They descended from every side. Five or six strong and lean warriors armed with metal spears and knives swarmed you and Din before you even had time to run.
A flurry of metal and blaster bolts occurred. You were quick on the draw taking two warriors quickly before another knocked your gun from your hands. It was immediately lost to the undergrowth. Dodging one strike then another you grabbed hold of one of the warrior's weapons, forcing it back on them to push them back. Pull, push, slash. A splash of blood as the spear cut into his skin and another dead.
You had one left. Flipping a small knife in his hand, the warrior snarled at you before pouncing. Taking out your own, you threw yourself at the warrior. Each attempted strike on your part was blocked effortlessly. Your advance became a backwards pace as you were slowly overpowered. The knife scraped against your vambrace as you blocked yet another strike creating sparks.
The warrior growled something in a language you didn’t understand as you stepped backwards again, finding yourself cornered to a tree. You growled and surged forward again, catching a slice to his cheek and shoulder before being pinned to the bark.
You cried out as a sharp bite pierced your skin, the warrior slipping past your armour and plunging their blade into your side as your hands came up and used your knife to slice their throat. A spray of blood hit your face as they fell to the ground. You fell backwards leaning against the tree for support as your head went light, you watched Din take out the remaining warriors. One on their spear, another with his blaster. He was surrounded by bodies but looked like he’d barely broken a sweat. He surveyed his area before finally noticing you. The ambush had happened so fast he barely had time to spare a glance in your direction to see how you were.
You grimaced as he walked over. He didn’t come close, not helping you, just watching. He saw the leather strapped blade on the ground beside you and the body next to you. You hissed as you tried to push yourself up, even minimal effort was aggravating the wound.
Your hand let go of the injury, revealing the blood to Din. You wiped it on your pant leg, laughing dryly as you looked up at him. You could barely see him, eyes hazy, even speaking was an effort as your throat was stinging with the threat of vomit. Din lurched forward holding out his hand. “I don’t need your help,” You garbled, trying again. This time you were successful, only for a moment as your world spinning and went black for a moment., “Stars above,” you gasped, falling forward into the Mandalorian. He caught you quickly before you fell to the floor.
“Where are you hurt?” He asked urgently.
“Under there,” You slurred, waving your arm weakly at your side. Your eyes were dropping, skin pale. It was the end, killed by a forest warrior’s blade with the Mandalorian by your side. Not how you wanted to go.
--
You came too in the dark. You startled, immediately on guard. The sudden movement made you cry out as pain overtook your body.
“Don’t move,” Came a gruff reply. It was the Mandalorian. Ignoring his request, you slowly pushed yourself to sit up, wincing at the pain but you couldn’t just lay there.
You then realised your armour was gone, top feeling practically bare in your undershirt. A bandage was wrapped around your ribs, soaked in blood. He had saved you.
You looked at him across the fire, confused. You had expected him to leave you for dead. You certainly should have died. Either the gods were playing a horrific joke on you by drawing out this quest with your supposed enemy or he had cared for you. You wondered how long you’d been out for. Could have been a few hours, a few days. You doubted he would care for you for that long but evidently, the bounty hunter was full of surprises.
“You should have left me,” you finally spoke. Your voice was coarse and you coughed to clear your throat. “Why’d you do that?”
He shrugged. You frowned but decided not to press the matter. You preferred living over being dead.
“How long was I out?” You asked.
“A few hours,” He replied, “Nice to have you quiet for so long,”
“Where’s my armour?”
“Here,” He said, patting the pile of metal next to him. You watched him carefully now. You needed that back if you were going to make it and didn’t entirely trust he would give it back. Parts were beskar. You knew he would try and stake a claim to it despite the fact he knew where you’d gotten it from. He’d tried it before and that had ended with you at the bottom of a rocky gorge, “I’ll give it back in the morning. You need to rest and you can’t in that,”
“It’s very important to me,” You stated.
“I know,” He said.
“How do I know you won’t take it?”
“You’ll have to trust me,” Din said. You were not about to do that. You pushed yourself to stand up, grinding your teeth to not let out the sharp pain that was splitting through your side, “Sit down,” Din ordered.
“Give me-,” As you stood up your vision went blurry, you stumbled forward into the fire pit. Luckily the Mandalorian had quick reflexes and caught you before you fell into the flames
“I didn’t save your life for you to fall into a fire,” he scolded you, helping you back to the ground. Sit,”
You shoved his hands off you and shuffled away from him. “I’ll kill you if you take it,” you grumbled.
“You would try,” Din agreed. Both of you knew you would not be a threat. While the Mandalorian had managed to flush out most of the poison some of it remained in your system. Not deadly in dosage but enough to weaken you significantly. You wouldn’t be able to get real help until you returned to the city.
Silence fell over the camp again. You stared into the fire, watching it spit and spark. A physical manifestation of your rage and embarrassment. Not only were you weak and wounded, but you were also stuck with the one person you swore would get revenge on if you ever crossed paths again. Now the only revenge you could manage was maybe to scratch his armour. You had slaughtered people, entire towns had met their end through your hands. Now your life lay in the Mandalorians’s. You hated it.
You glared at him for what felt like hours. Neither of you was going to give in to sleep, too suspicious of the other to succumb to the vulnerability. The three moons travelled slowly overhead, animals scratching around the clearing of the forest none would dare to venture into the foreign light of the Mandalorian’s fire but you could feel a thousand eyes in the darkness watching you intently.
Suddenly he stood up. Suspicious you watched him walk the short distance to you. Without warning, he passed a silver packet of food to you and walked behind you. You looked dumbly at the packet and turned your head to see what he was doing. You had barely looked over your shoulder before his gloved hand came to the side of your face, pushing you away.
“Turn around and I’ll kill you,” Din warned you.
“Ok! Kriff, calm down I don’t want to look anyway,” You scoffed at him. Somehow, his insistence that you didn’t see his face only made the idea more enticing. You heard a scuff of metal and the sound of something heavy on the grass, his helmet was off.
You kept your head straight forward, moving only to look at what you were eating. It was very similar to eating next to a wild animal, any movement you made while he ate could be your last. You knew enough about Mandalorians to know it wasn’t him being territorial but to do with his ‘creed’. They could never remove their helmets, never show their faces to anyone except family. It didn’t seem like the Mandalorian behind you had any family, there was barely a caring bone in his body. Except he had saved your life, though that was more an act of self-preservation than anything else you thought.
Din wouldn’t usually risk eating like this with someone like you nearby. There was no privacy, no guarantee you wouldn’t turn and catch him but his hunger was overtaking his logic. It had been days since he’d eaten, he was the lowest on credits in his life the small amount he’d earn from this bounty was desperately needed. If he was going to be paid at all now.
He ate quickly, wolfing down the scraps he had found in your pack. It was bland and chalky but it was food, nutrients, and that was all that mattered. He had to survive until the next. Once he finished, he picked up his helmet and placed it back on his head. Safe inside his metal shell he stood up and walked to his previous spot on the other side of the fire.
He watched you while you ate. He took in the way your skin glowed in the firelight. Wisps of unruly hair caught the light giving you a halo over your head except there was nothing angelic about you. You knew murder and destruction just as well as he did. You’d killed many and cursed more to the haunting image of your destruction. You were one of a small few in the galaxy who had survived the Mandalorian.
There was something oddly satisfying at the fact you couldn’t get away now. You couldn’t do anything if he tried to kill you again now. All your power, all your strength, was in his hands. It was a dark feeling he wanted to avoid, he didn’t think about it too much. If he’d wanted to kill you he would have left you to die.
Once you finished your food you threw the packaging into the fire and settled back. You watched the Mandalorian pick through your pack, pulling out whatever he could find useful for the rest of the travel. You knew we wouldn't find much, the thing had only been packed for a two-day trip maximum. You ached from head to toe, tired and more hungry than the nutrients bar could stave off you longed for your bed. Soft and warm it was the only good thing in this place, the only thing that had kept you here for so long. Comfort was never something you had been given freely, you were going to hold onto this one for as long as you could.
Soon you couldn’t fight sleep any longer. You lay down next to the fire, watching the Mandalorian until you could no longer keep your eyes open.
—
The next day something had shifted in your dynamic. The fact he’d saved your life had changed things. You weren’t so angry at him. He was careful with you, helping you up from the ground and you didn’t miss the way his helmet stayed on you for longer than needed as you pulled your armour back on. He’d cleaned it too, wiping off the blood and dirt from the metal.
You walked mostly in silence, Din still in front of you. You may not hate him anymore but you didn’t entirely trust him yet. He was on neutral ground as far as you were concerned. He'd tried to kill you once, he’d saved you once, They cancelled each other out and now all was left as to gain any opinion either way about who this man was. Was he a killer or was he kind? His actions thus far, surprisingly, offered the latter. Despite that, your hand never left your blaster, though not drawn it was ready in its holster if he decided to turn on you.
Every time you hissed or groaned as you walked, he would stop, look at you and check you were okay before continuing. If it wasn’t for the cold nature of his helmet it would have been endearing.
You travelled together through forest and fields, over a small mountain and down a ravine. Your legs ached, back sore from carrying your pack but at least your stab wound had gone numb. Your pain receptors were so fried now your brain was trying to forget it all together so you could survive.
You flagged behind Mando, gritting your teeth and forcing yourself forward until you couldn’t take it anymore. You let out a small cry of defeat before calling for the Mandalorian to stop. You sat on a rock above a reed bed, leaning on it with one arm while the other pried your armour from your body. Din stopped walking as soon as he heard you.
“I need to rest for a bit,” You admitted, struggling with your straps. One-handed it was impossible to get them off but if you didn’t you couldn’t breathe. You pulled and tugged at the buckles until you were stopped by the Mandalorian’s gloved hand on yours.
“I’ll do it,” He said quietly. You moved your hand, turning a little to let him have better access to the buckles holding the metal to your body.
You didn’t say a word, knowing you couldn’t do it by yourself. His skilled fingers worked the buckles open and pulled the chest pieces away from your body. There was care in his touch, his fingers momentarily gracing over your exposed skin for a moment. The light touch sent shivers down your spine. You turned your head for fear of showing just how affected you were by his touch. You sighed in relief when the weight was gone and the strain on your muscles was decreased.
“Thank you,” You mumbled.
“We can set up camp here for the night,”
“It’s not even dark,” You protested, “Give me a few minutes we can keep walking. It’s not safe out in the open like this,”
“You’re in pain,”
“I’ll be in pain wherever we are,” You said, “There are caves just over there, it will be safer to stay there,”
“That’ll be two hours walk,”
“I can do it,”
“I’m tired too. We’re staying here,” He said, “You can bathe in the river, clean the wound again,”
“Mando-,” You protested.
He wasn’t listening anymore. He’d set down the weapons on his back and set to creating a fire. If it was going to be as cold as last night you were going to need one.
You were silently relieved. Your entire body was screaming for a break, the wound throbbing so much you could have thrown up. You needed to rest. You knew you weren’t far from the city now, it was on the other side of the pass, you could see ships land and take off in the distance, specks leaving white trails in the sky. You would be back by the next evening, you predicted. Only one day left free of consequences.
As the decision had been made to stay by the river for the night, you decided you could get out of your armour again. You sat up slowly, leaning to one side to avoid putting pressure on the wound on your side. You piled the pieces up next to the rock.
Din was still busy searching for suitable wood, a good distance away from you you decided it was safe to strip off and explore the water you could hear behind the reed bed. You pulled aside the plants, creating a path for yourself and revealing a beautiful stream. The water was crystal clear, reflecting the sunset colours above you.
You waded into the water, holding up your tunic so it didn’t get wet. The current wasn’t strong, stones were stable under your feet and you let yourself walk further into the river until it got to your hips. Creatures in the water scattered as your legs invaded their home. You pulled your tunic over your head, throwing the fabric back onto the riverbank, then untied the Mandalorians bandages leaving them with the tunic too. The cool water soothed your aching muscles, washing away the sweat and dry blood as it passed over your skin. You groaned at the heavenly feeling before dipping down under the surface, letting the world melt away in the stream.
Din returned to find you missing. He dropped the sticks he’d found and looked around for you. He hadn’t heard a struggle, he’d have seen someone if you’d been taken. He spotted your armour in a pile while you’d been lay, too neat to be stripped of you in a hurry you must have taken it off. None of his weapons missing either. Then he heard your voice from behind the tall reeds surrounding the lazy river, a pained groan. He was quick to action fearing you’d fallen and been hurt again. He barrelled through the reeds, nearly falling down the riverbank into the water until he saw you. Entirely naked, facing away from him, standing waist-deep in the cool water. Every scar, every bruise, every lump and bump was on view under the golden sun instantly transfixing Din.
He didn’t want to stare but he couldn’t bring his eyes away from the view. Drenched in golden light, your wet skin sparkled. His eyes fell slowly down your body, his own body was fighting between leaving you alone and joining you in the water. Your shadow cast on the opposite bank of reeds showed a broken image of everything you had hidden.
“Can you pass me my clothes when you’re done staring please Mando?” You spoke up suddenly, looking over your shoulder with a smirk on your lips. Din startled, snapping himself out of the trance he’d fallen into, nearly falling in the water. He coughed and spluttered, the sound coming out strangely through his vocoder, which made you laugh. He nodded, muttering something you couldn’t hear before disappearing back through the reeds to retrieve your clothes.
You were used to washing with no privacy. Being in the places you’d been, privacy was a luxury. You could ignore the lustful stares men gave but something about Din watching you set you on edge, it excited you. You couldn’t see his face, couldn’t tell where he was looking but his vision bore like laser’s into your skin. You felt electric. He could have watched forever and you wouldn’t mind at all.
You dunked under the cold water, cleaning yourself and cooling off the heat of your body. You found your clothes laid out on the bank, where Din had been standing before. You smiled, dried off and dressed before re-emerging from the reeds.
The sun was going down now, barely a sliver above the horizon. Stars came out, colouring the night sky with constellations. The Mandalorian had a good fire going. A field rat hung over the flames cooking away.
“Sit close to the fire so you can dry off properly,” He said as you approached. You smiled and nodded, feeling brave enough to sit next to him rather than across as you had done the other night. He was opposed to your decision and didn’t move when you settled down next to him in the grass. “The wound looked like it's healing well,” He said after a moment of quiet.
“That’s all you were looking at?” You asked with a smirk.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” He apologised, a little ashamed at his voyeurism.
“I didn’t say I minded,” You smiled, sweet on the surface but the wicked fire in your eyes told him exactly what he wanted. He shivered under your gaze and moved quickly to get away from your scrutiny, turning his attention to stoking the fire again. You laughed to yourself and settled back onto your elbows to watch the stars.
This night was so different from the one before. You didn’t watch him so intently, trusting that he wouldn’t suddenly try to rob you or kill you. You were relaxed, as much as you could in the circumstances. Your earlier question of the character of the Mandalorian was slowly being answered. He was a mixture of good and kind, and cold and calculated. You couldn’t forget how viciously he had attacked you all those years ago, how bloody and raw those warriors had been left in the forest. But simultaneously you couldn’t forget his kindness in saving you, his care for your wellbeing as you walked today. How bashful he became when you confronted him about his peeping. You could hear the embarrassment in his voice. If he was a cold and heartless killer like you thought him to be, he would not take your teasing. He wouldn’t be embarrassed. No, this Mandalorian much like everyone else was complicated. Under that beskar somewhere lay a man, who unfortunately you were starting to like.
You couldn’t hate him. Not when he had found and cooked food for you to share. Din had pulled the field rat off the spit, opened it up and pulled out the cooked meat. He passed you half before collecting his own. You initially curled your lip at the charred remains in your lap but there was no other choice. It was that or starve.
Din opened his mouth to speak, to tell you to stay put as he sat behind you but was astounded at how quickly you’d turned your back on him giving him the privacy he needed. Metal hit the ground with a thud, you stayed perfectly still. Din noticed instantly, his chest becoming heavy as he saw your fear. You had been friendly all day, talking as if you were friends but the way you sat in front of him like caught prey reminded him that wasn’t the case.
You surprised him, it was rare for people to understand so quickly, let alone someone like you. Someone who hated him, had tried to kill him, usually, they’d mock him and refuse unless he threatened them, like he’d done to you last night. You didn’t say a word. You respected him.
So, he ate slower. Taking the time to enjoy his food, as much as you can enjoy slightly burnt field rat. He picked at the meat, pulling it apart with his fingers. His quiet groan of pleasure at the taste of his food made your ears prick and hair stand up on edge. You’d teased him for watching you in the river, but if he sat behind you and made sounds like that you were going to have to do something. Call it Stockholm syndrome, some kind of weird lapse of judgement due to the stress of your predicament but you found yourself liking the Mandalorian. He had tried to kill you before, he should terrify you, but the fact he was such a mystery, and a dangerous one at that, made him all the more enticing.
Din didn’t miss the way you’d pricked up at the noise he’d made. He didn’t mean to, it had just slipped from his lips. A new kind of hunger took over him as he finished his meal. He wanted you. The memory of you in the river cast over him. He wondered how soft your skin would feel, fresh from the mineral waters you’d bathed in. You smelt so fresh from where he was sitting, how much better would it be with his nose in your hair. He’d been hungry for days, but this hunger had gone unsolved for months, he could hardly remember the last time he’d held someone, kissed someone, fucked someone.
Without realising it Din had moved closer to you. His hands ghosted over your hair, wanting desperately to run his fingers through it. He wanted to touch you, to feel you. He leant over, just outside your peripheral vision and placed a kiss on your cheek. It was short, shorter as you startled at the sudden touch. Din retreated quickly, your sudden movement startling him too.
“What was that?” You asked sharply. Din frowned, instantly regretting his action. To his surprise, you didn’t make a move to look at him.
“Wh-what do you mean?” He stuttered, all confidence draining from his body.
“Kiss me properly if you’re going to kiss me,” you said confidently. A simple touch of his lips to your cheek had set you alight, you were startled but didn’t want him to stop.
Din grinned in the dark and surged forward to kiss you properly. The sharp scratch of stubble surprised you as he kissed you. His lips were soft as passion dripped into your mouth as your mouth opened to him in a gasp. The Mandalorian pulled you closer, turning you to face him properly. You hissed in pain when his hand brushed over your wound. He whispered an apology, moving down to your jaw. His nose brushed along your jaw taking in the clean and earthy scent of you.
His kiss travelled down your neck. The burn of his stumble on your soft skin made you sigh and open up to him more. Din could feel himself falling into you, your scent and taste, the noises that you were making just from his kisses were driving him insane. He could stop if he needed but he didn’t want to. He could trust you.
His hands stroked down your arms, taking your wrist into his grip. He continued his assault on your neck as he lifted it. He placed your hand over your eyes, holding your wrist tight to keep it in place. His warm hand over yours was oddly comforting.
“Move your hand and I stop, yes?” He whispered in your ear, his hot breath tickling you and sending a shiver up your spine, “I don’t want to kill you, but I will,”
“I understand,”
--
If there was any way you could have predicted the ending of your adventure with the Mandalorian there would be no way you could have predicted the events of the previous night.
He was good. Surprisingly good. You were a little shocked, having thought he was some celibate mercenary monk type character, but he knew what he was doing. If there weren’t stars above you, he’d made you see more. He was careful not to hurt you but didn’t hold out. Edges of your previous hatred for one another dipped in, adding so much to the event. You woke up sore in a completely different and entirely satisfying way.
You set out for the final stretch of the journey with a smile on your face. Your blaster was left alone in its holster and the Mandalorian walked beside you. You trusted him.
The final stretch was the most challenging. Through a rocky ravine, you had to climb over boulders and through tight passes. If you could have gone over you would, but the hundred-foot sheer cliff faces took that option away from you pretty fast. The Mandalorian walked slower to allow you to keep up, taking hold of your chest armour when the weight became too much to take anymore. You still couldn’t understand the reasoning behind his kindness but accepted it easily. He wouldn’t leave you more than ten foot behind, despite your insistence on leaving you to catch up on your own he refused and waited for you before enforcing a rest stop so you could catch your breath and continue. After hours of walking through the rocky pass, red stone finally gave way to green grass and blue sky once more.
You saw the city gates on the horizon and your heart began to ache. You had almost forgotten what you were walking back to. You had to tell the Master that his daughter was dead, that your entire team was burnt alive and you were the only survivor. You were dead for sure. Being the outsider anyway put you on rocky ground, this would be the final straw.
Din could sense your nervousness. Even if you didn’t express it verbally, he knew you were anxious to return. He thought you were brave for doing so, but you didn’t have a choice. If you ran you could never stay hidden from the Master. You were dead either way, at least if you brought yourself in you could argue your case.
Citizens lined the wall of the city, flags waving and cheering songs danced on the breeze as soon as you and the Mandalorian were spotted. You walked through the outlying villages with heads hung low as the people ran up to you expecting their princess in tow. When they saw the two of you alone their cries of joy turned to silence.
You reached the city gates and it seemed nobody had noticed, bells rang out and drums echoes from inside. Children waved from the wall, happy and excited to see you. The whispers started, turned into murmurs and soon the yells of praise and joy were spitting insults and exclamations of pain. People yelled out questions, what had happened to the princess, where was she, who’d killed the princess. Why hadn’t you saved her? Your heart sunk, you couldn’t lift your eyes from the ground as you and the Mandalorian were escorted to the palace.
Din always hated a failed mission, letting targets getaway in mistakes was what kept him up at night, but this was so much worse. He didn’t have any personal connection to the girl but the vitriol spat at you and him as you walked through was tough to take. He kept his head up, trying to think of a plan for what might happen next.
The news of your failure had spread fast, arriving at the Master’s feet before you did. You knelt at his throne, the Mandalorian standing beside you.
“What news do you bring?” The Master asked. He didn’t need your answer, he just wanted to watch you squirm.
“I am afraid we were unsuccessful Master. An accident occurred at the camp and we two are the only survivors of the event. There was no way of recovering your daughter, I apologise,” You said finally looking up at him. Your voice was calm, collected and confident. There was nothing you could do now, it didn’t matter whether you were visibly upset or not.
“Mandalorian? Do they speak the truth?”
“Yes. Charges were set in the mines beneath the location and set as soon as we arrived,” He elaborated.
“I appreciate the aide Mandalorian, however without a successful return of my daughter I cannot pay you,” The master said. Din nodded, having expected as much, “Guards arrest L/n,”
“I assure you we did everything we could to get your daughter, none of this was their fault,” Din insisted.
“You are dismissed, Mando,” The Master ordered. Din didn’t move, his blaster raised at the guards approaching, standing between you and them to protect you.
“Stop it,” You hissed at him, alarmed that he was putting his survival at risk for you.
“Put the blaster down, Mandalorian. You are far outnumbered here. I suggest you leave me while you still can unless you would like to join L/n in front of a firing squad,”
“It’s not worth it,” You whispered, as you pushed yourself to stand up. You gritted your teeth as pain shot through you. You both knew this was how it would end, there was no other way, “I accept my fate,” You spoke loud enough for everyone else to hear. Din didn’t accept it, he refused to. He had only just got you into his life, whatever the relationship was between you two he wasn’t going to let you die for something that wasn’t your fault.
You were surrounded inside the palace. Din’s defiance was only drawing more soldiers in. The chances of either you or Din coming out alive were drawing in. You knew the Mandalorian was worth more, something inside you told you he had a great destiny before him. While our crossed paths had arrived at a pleasant spot you would like to continue, if that was the final destination of your lives then you wouldn’t be the one pulling him to a halt with you.
You stepped into the Mandalorian’s vision, soldiers drawing closer, and you placed your hand over his blaster. You looked directly into his visor, staring directly into his eyes. You didn’t have to speak, he knew it was over. Slowly, Din lowered his weapon and stepped back. With his hands up he nodded to the Master who smiled smugly and gave you one last look. As soon as the Mandalorian walked away the guards were on you, hands roughly tugged behind your back and into harsh cuffs.
Din didn’t look back. Couldn’t. If he did he would do something he would regret. The Master’s voice echoed out of the Palace doors relaying your sentence. You were to be executed at sundown. Din pulled himself into a comfortable stoic calm, and indifference forced upon himself to allow him to carry on. He walked out of the city with nothing. Penniless, hungry and alone.
The Razor Crest provided some comfort as it always did. No matter what changed around his outside could always be corrected inside the silver confines of his ship. He had enough fuel to get him to the next populated planet, hopefully, he would find work there to get food. He settled into the cockpit, flicking through maps for a while to see where he could go. After a while, the exhaustion of not sleeping properly for three days caught up and Din fell asleep in the pilot seat.
--
“Oi! Mando! Open up!” Hard rock being thrown at the front of the Crest and the sound of your voice startled him awake. It was dark now, the moon high in the sky above him. Din’s heart sunk, it was just a dream. You were gone now.
He let himself wonder for a moment if he could have done more, knowing that probably wasn’t true. The galaxy had a way of making things work out the way they should no matter what he did. He settled back against his chair again, head resting on his chest when something slammed against the side of the ship and shouted for him again and he knew he wasn’t dreaming.
He did a double-take when he saw you at the door. Dishevelled and breathing heavily, you grinned up at him. “I thought you were dead,” He said.
“I will be if you don’t let me in in a minute,” You looked over your shoulder as speeder lights approached over the brim of the hill. Din had barely stepped aside before you barreled into the ship.
He stared at you in the low light of the hull. confused by the image you presented. Your armour was half missing, only your chest plates and one thigh plate remained and you were covered in blood. You were not only alive but you had fought well for it. Considering the state you had been in just hours before, barely able to stand up unaided, he was astonished.
“What? It’s not my blood if you’re worried about that,” You wiped your face with the back of your hand then wiping it on your pant leg. “Hurry up and get this ship in the sky. We need to go right now,”
A blaster shot ricochet off the side of the Crest, the sound of bikes coming closer, setting Din back into motion. He raced back up to the cockpit to set off. You followed quickly and watched as the Mandalorian set to getting the ship into the air while under attack. You jumped into the seat behind him, giddy with excitement as the weight of what you had just done inside the city walls had not yet settled in. You were high on adrenaline. The engines roared into life and suddenly the Mandalorian turned back to look at you.
“I’m glad you’re not dead,” He said.
“I’m glad I’m not dead too,” you smiled, warmth spreading through your body at the sentiment, “now please can we go,” A shot hit the front window making you duck instinctively. “Go!”
--
happy may the fourth guys!! omg i missed writing din so much!!
tags: @beskar-falcon @peterssweetpea @beskarbabs @wille-zarr @this-cat-is-dea @dameronology @fandom-blackhole @artsymaddie
#din djarin x reader#din djarin x f!reader#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian x you#din x reader#din x gn!reader#mando x reader#enemies to lovers#star wars x reader#mando x you#din x you#the mandalorian#din x reader angst#din x reader smut#x reader#x you#din djarin#the mandalorian fanfiction#the mandalorian fanfic#din djarin fanficiton#pedro pascal#pedro pascal character x reader#star wars fanfiction#star wars#molly writes
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Birds and the Bees
A/N: THANK YOU FOR THE 50+ FOLLOWERS and 350+ NOTES!! Y'all are so nice oml thank you so much 😭 Thank you for the lovely messages too! I'm sorry I haven't replied I just thought I'd reply in chronological order and it's taking a long time :')
It's just some random idea I had, and just wanted to get out of my system ^^" Based on that one scene from Bridgerton, so some of them might seem OOC ^^"
Tag/s: Random, Fem!Reader
Warning/s: Talking about where babies come from with Victorian Era s3x education
“Here you go, sweetheart,”
“Thank you,” you smiled contently, excited for the scavenger hunt event for the orphanages.
“(Y/N)!” (F/N) shouted as she ran up to you, leading you to an abandoned alleyway.
“(F/N)? What are you doing here?” you asked, stumbling over your feet as you tried to regain your balance.
“(Y/N), you live with other– what are those for?” she asked, looking down at your bags.
“For the charity event next week, don’t you remember? We’re hosting a scavenger hunt for the kids,” you reminded, making her shake her head.
Right, right…“ she shrugged it off, making you look at her with a deadpan expression.
"You do live with other men, right?” she bluntly asked, making you raise a brow.
“I guess… why?” their face lost its color as they harshly grabbed your arm, turning you in every which way, and poked your stomach.
“Hey! (F/N), seriously! What’s all this about!?” you asked, covering your stomach from her.
She bit her lip as she looked around, grabbing your hand as she whispered to you.
“You’re certain you have never been with child, correct?” you blushed at their question as you smacked her side with your bags.
“Of course not! I’m not even betrothed!” you defended as she groaned out in pain.
“Are you drunk!? You know better than to drink during the day!” you asked, inspecting her face.
“I’m not drunk!” she defended, rubbing her arm, “But a maid of mine is with child,” she whispered, leaning closer to you.
“So…?”
“And she’s not married!” she whispered loudly, making you furrow your brows.
“That’s impossible… How is she with child if she’s not married?”
“I don’t know… Not even my own mother would tell me,” she huffed, frustrated and confused.
“But I do know that she has been spending some time with a butler she fancies, so maybe-”
“-Lady (F/N)! Lady (F/N)! The carriage is waiting!” (F/N)’s lady-in-waiting called out, making (F/N) sigh.
“Can’t you ask one of them? Since marriage isn’t even required, we don’t actually know how a woman-”
“-Lady (F/N)!”
“Who knows, maybe you’ll be next-”
“-Lady (F/N)!”
“ALL RIGHT!” she shouted back, making people around look at you both.
You bashfully bowed at them as you awkwardly laughed while (F/N) glared at them.
“Just be careful, okay? I’ll call you later,” she warned, walking off as she left you dumbfounded.
“Ugh, why do we have to do this?” Sebastian grumbled, his fingers aching from making baskets out of strips of fibers.
“Don’t be such a big baby. It’s for the kids,” James teased, tying a ribbon neatly at the finished ones.
“Easy for you to say… That reminds me, where’s (Y/N)?” Sebastian looked around the room, “Isn’t she supposed to be here helping us?”
“She went to buy us more materials,” Fred answered, making the baskets with ease, “But she should be home soon,”
As if on cue, you absentmindedly walked inside the manor, catching everyone’s attention.
“Speak of the devil…”
“Welcome home,”
“(Y/N)! You’re home early!”
“Did you get everything we needed?”
Louis and James greeted you as you practically stumbled inside, placing the bags by the living room table, barely sparing anyone a glance.
“…You okay?” James asked as he placed a hand on your shoulder, startling you as you quickly turned to him.
“Y-Yeah, just a bit weary…” you lied, moving away from the group as they looked at you with a confused expression.
“Are you sure you’re not ill?” William asked as he reached out to you, making you yelp and instinctively move away from him, surprising everyone in the room.
“S-Sorry… I…” you opened your mouth to explain, but nothing came out.
You gulped as you rushed to your room, locking it behind you as you screamed into your pillow.
You heard numerous footsteps come to your door as shadows loomed from the cracks.
“Lady (Y/N)?” Jack-sensei called out with a knock.
“Lady (Y/N), what’s wrong?”
“Oy, did something happen in the market?”
“Are you okay?”
“Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
You sighed as you stood up from the floor, half-cursing the boys for being so thoughtful.
You took a deep breath as you prepared yourself, opening the door and greeted with concerned faces.
“How does a lady become with child?”
“Is that why you were so wary earlier?” William asked as he paced around the room, making you nod as you sat quietly on the couch.
“Pfft,” Sebastian’s shoulders shook as he burst out in laughter while Albert and Jack-sensei tried to hide theirs.
“Don’t laugh!” you shouted, smacking Sebastian’s arm.
“Sorry, (Y/N), but you have to admit that it is a bit funny,” James defended, making you huff.
“Did seriously think that spending time with men will be enough for you to be with child?” Louis asked in disbelief as William covered his face with his hand, clearly smiling.
“Well, since I have been lied to for my whole life, there’s not exactly a lot of credible news to count on,” you pouted, crossing your arms as you sat back down.
“I assume that would be false information?”
“I’m afraid so,”
“Yes,”
“Duh,”
“Then, care to explain?” you taunted, making the men look at each other for an answer.
“Well…”
“It’s not exactly easy to explain…”
“I’m sure you’ll find out when you have your own husband,” Jack-sensei reassured, patting your head as you sighed in defeat.
Everyone went to their places as Fred and Sebastian sat beside you, continuing their tasks as they gave you an unfinished one.
“I take it you two know,” you whispered, making Fred freeze up as Seb raised a brow at you.
“Do not look at me…” Fred replied, his eyes avoiding you.
Sebastian glanced around the room before he leaned to your ear.
“You remember how-” Sebastian whispered as Louis smacked him on the head, making him hit you too in a domino effect.
“HEY!” you shouted, rubbing your temple.
“I do hope you are not encouraging improper topics of conversation, Mr. Moran,”
“Not at all,” Sebastian reassured as he stood up, reaching out for your hand.
You raised a brow but went along, standing up as he grabbed some fibers from the table.
“In fact, (Y/N) and I were going to go basket-making-”
“-SEBASTIAN MORAN!”
“-HEY!”
“-MORAN!”
“-For the event,” Seb finished as he showed the strips, making you look around in confusion while everyone glared at the colonel.
“Let’s go,” he snickered, pulling you out of the room as you grabbed a basket for reference.
“What was that about?” you asked, looking back to the group.
“Don’t mind them,” Sebastian laughed, making you even more confused.
.
.
.
.
.
“We do all agree that Moran shouldn’t be left alone with Lady (Y/N), right?”
As soon as Jack finished that sentence, everyone got up from their place and followed you two.
#yuukoku no moriarty x reader#moriarty the patriot x reader#albert james moriarty#albert moriarty#william james moriarty#william moriarty#louis james moriarty#louis moriarty#ynm james bond#james bonde#ynm fred#fred porlock#ynm sebastian#sebastian moran#jack renfield
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How Long Do I Have?
For @whumpawoman Angstpril! Day 8 - Bad News
Cassiel Belanger belongs to @painful-pooch
Across the Stars and Through the Meadow Masterlist (Cas and Star AU)
Tagging the Star crew: @ashintheairlikesnow @whumpinggrounds @whumptakesthecake @justplainwhump @whumpfessional @winedark-whump
CW: lady whump, BBU, former pet whumpees, hospital setting, terminal illness, mentions of noncon drugging, not necessarily whump but very angsty
***
Star looks down at her feet, her legs strangely pale poking out from the blue hospital gown. She’s been here for five hours, confined to this hospital bed or being pushed to a different test in a wheelchair, no matter how much she insists that she can walk. MRI. X-Ray. EKG. EEG. Blood tests until she was woozy. Checking for tumors, if she could balance on one leg, her reflexes.
And the questions. So many that her head is spinning. Her sleep schedule. Her mood. Her diet. Her job. At least Russo found a safe doctor, one who wasn’t going to report her back to WRU for the barcode on her wrist, partially covered by the hospital bracelet.
Cas doesn’t know where she is. Star didn’t want to worry him, but they had both seen how much weaker she’s been getting, how much she hurts all the time. She passed out on the couch when she tried to stand up last week and was barely able to play it off.
But the last thing she wants to do is scare him, so Russo promised to keep him distracted while she’s at the hospital.
Star can feel it in the deepest parts of herself. Something is horribly wrong with her. Her body is breaking down and she doesn’t know why, she just wants to fix it. She wants more time with Cas, he’s her best friend, he’s more than that.
It can’t be too difficult of a fix, though. Some pills or surgery and she’ll go back to being in less pain and having more energy. Then she’ll tell Cas, and just hope he’s not too mad she lied to him in the first place.
There’s a knock on the door, and Star looks up from her hospital bed. “Hello?”
The doctor, a blonde woman named Doctor Roth, steps into the room, holding a clipboard. “How are you feeling, Star?”
Star gives her a dry look. “Like I want to go home.”
“Do you mind if I sit down?”
Star’s heart skips a beat. She was trained to read posture in WRU, she knows that whatever Doctor Roth is about to say won’t be good. “Sure thing.” Her voice is barely a whisper.
Doctor Roth sits in the chair next to Star’s bed. “Star, how much do you understand about what might be causing your symptoms?”
“Nothing.” Star taps her fingers against her leg. “That’s why I’m here, right?”
“Of course. So here’s our understanding of what’s happening. You initially reported that you were used as a test subject for experimental drugs while at WRU, correct?”
Star nods, a lump in her throat. What Handler Greco did to her…she still has nightmares about it. All the different combinations of medication to make her hurt, to give her fevers, to paralyze her. Needles jabbed into every part of her body, the cold rush when he pushed down the plunger. “That’s right. My Handler…”
“It’s okay. I understand that it’s hard to talk about.” Doctor Roth leans forward. “Because of the experimental medication and based on the results of the examinations we performed…Star…”
“Just get to it already,” she murmurs, tensing up. This is bad, bad, bad.
“Most of the damage is in your nervous system, but other parts of your body are starting to show signs of deterioration as well. Your muscles, your heart…can I show you something?”
Star faintly nods. None of the words are making sense anymore. Deterioration. Damage. Her fingers grip the sheets of the hospital bed as she struggles to wrap her mind around what’s happening.
Doctor Roth takes out a blood pressure cuff and attaches it to Star’s arm, letting the machine inflate it and give her a number. “Do you see the screen?”
Star shakes her head. “I can’t fucking read.” Please don’t cry please don’t cry please don’t cry.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot. What that number is telling us, though, is that your blood pressure is dangerously low.” She undoes the cuff and sits back down. “Your white blood cell count indicates that your immune system is weakened, and some of the other numbers are low as well. You said you lose feeling in your feet and hands sometimes?”
All Star can do is nod again.
“And what about your head? You’re prone to passing out? How about headaches, dizziness, feeling confused or other unexplained emotions?”
Star nods again. “I don’t understand,” she whispers.
“What don’t you understand?” Doctor Roth leans forward. “I want to help explain it for you.”
“No, I get all the medical shit.” She’s disconnected from her own body right now, she has to be otherwise she’ll cry. Otherwise this all becomes real. “What’s happening to me?”
Doctor Roth gives Star a sad smile. “With the rate of degeneration…you might only have a few more years, even with medication and treatment.”
“I need…I can’t fucking think, what does that mean?” This can’t be real. And it’s not real until she says it, right? Maybe Star’s got this wrong, maybe it’s—
“You’re dying, Star. If you follow a treatment plan, the longest I can give you is until you’re twenty-seven. Realistically, twenty-five.”
Star can’t. She can’t, this can’t be real. Please. Don’t let this be real. Hasn’t Handler Greco taken enough from her already? Hasn’t she lost enough, hasn’t she suffered and bled and screamed enough?
No. She hasn’t because she’s just a mutt and she’ll always be a mutt and she’ll always be his. No matter how far she runs, she’ll always belong to Handler Greco and this just proves it.
“I want to go home,” she whispers.
Doctor Roth stands up. “I would advise against it. Just for tonight. I want to keep you under medical observation so we can begin trying out a treatment plan.”
Once again, Star nods because what else is there to do? She wants to scream and cry and fight it but she’s too numb to even react.
“Is there someone I can call? Your safehouse rep, when setting up the appointment, mentioned that you came with another person. Is he your bonded?”
“N-no, he’s my…” He’s her Cas. Whatever that means. “His name is Cassiel Belanger. I have his phone number.” She rattles it off, each number getting shakier.
“I understand. Do you have any questions for me? It can be about anything.”
“I…” Star trails off, staring at the wall. “No.”
“If you do, don’t hesitate to ask. There will be a nurse in soon who’s going to get you started on an IV and take some readings of your heart rate, and I’ll call Cassiel.”
“Thank you, Doctor Roth.” She pauses. “Is it too late to tell you not to call him?”
“No, but you shouldn’t be alone right now.” Doctor Roth puts her hand on Star’s shoulder. “I know it seems like something impossible to tell the people you love. But I know from experience, hiding that will just make whatever time you have left miserable and even more painful. If you want, I can tell him, but I think it’ll be better coming from you.”
“I can’t…how do I tell him that this is it?”
“You don’t. You tell him what I told you. And you let him process that and you let him cry and maybe then you’ll let yourself cry, too. You’re terminally ill, Star. But your life isn’t over yet.” Doctor Roth smiles. “I’ll call him and tell him where you are.”
Star’s eyes grow misty. “Thank you.”
She’s not alone for long. A nurse is in right after, placing an IV and putting electrodes on her chest to measure her heart rate. But then, it’s just her, all alone in the room.
Star is completely numb. She’s…
No. She’s not ready to accept that yet. And if she isn’t…how is Cas going to react?
She needs him now more than ever. She didn’t think she would, she didn’t think being apart from him would be this hard.
She needs Cas to make sense of everything while her world is crumbling around her.
It’s too long but not long enough before Cas appears in the doorway, rushing over and sitting next to her on the bed. “Lassie?” he asks, holding her face.
Seeing him makes it all too real, and a single tear slides down her cheek. The sorrow is crushing her, dragging him down, and she reaches out for him like he’s the only way to hold on. “I have something to tell you. It’s, um…” Deep breath. In and out and it’s not going to get better but she can’t be alone. “I’m dying, Cas.”
She said it out loud, and those three words make the world shatter around her. I’m dying, Cas. She said it and everything comes crashing down on her at once and Star doubles over in her hospital bed, leans against Cas, and sobs.
#wawangstpril#no.8#lady whump#bbu#box boy universe#terminally ill whumpee#hospital whump#star belanger#cassiel belanger#blue's words
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Dying at the tag on the opinion bingo djdkdkd. But I’d like to see ur big brain thoughts onnnn the naruhodous (Phoenix and Ryuunosuke). And a beloathèd character of your choice xoxo
apologies because this is going to be LONG but i do not want to put it under a readmore or anything. u WILL look at my opinions
first up my pal ace :3
i mean like fuck dude. what HAVENT i said already about my favorite guy in the multiverse. he is my everything. nobody understands him like i do.
im going to be a bit unorthodox and actually explain in relative detail why i filled in (or partially filled in) what i did
everyone but me is wrong about them <3 - this is simply true. nobody gives this man enough credit, nobody sees him for all of his facets, its like people pick One trait (friendly, loyal, snarky, emotional, etc.) and decide thats Him. like they miss the forest for the trees with phoenix. people just dont get it. other peoples headcanons are also just wrong. some correct phoenix headcanons: he can cook but his luck is so terrible anywhere BUT the courtroom or the hospital that he comes out of any cooking encounter with cuts, bruises, stains, etc. there has never been a single instance where he has not hurt himself making a meal; he is a restless person and frequently suffers from mild insomnia, and also wakes at the crack of dawn and at any mild shift or sound in the room; he knows the lyrics of sweating bullets by megadeath exactly and can sing the entire song at will, and has for a disbelieving apollo
theyre like a blorbo to me - self explanatory.
theyre deeper than they seem/not as deep as they seem - not fully filled in on either because this is tricky. related to the above because i think he is made of a lot of really complex emotions and moving parts BUT he is also just a guy. people love to give him a really tragic backstory, usually with him being shuffled around the foster system (for reasons i dont understand), but its like. his backstory is vague purposefully for protagonist reasons but also i think thematically its important for him to be just any other guy? like, its aspirational that this random dude who happened to make friends with a lawyers son becomes the guy who spearheads fixing the entire legal system. idk man its hard to explain. i am the only one who knows where the balance between "just a guy" and "objectively the most important person in the aa universe" truly is
i like them enough to project my own issues onto them - when i start deciding the character has my traits it is Over. i dont know how to go into detail on this without being more longwinded than im already being (and without embarrassing myself by dumping my issues all over this post) but just trust me that i like him A Lot
they got done DIRTY by the fans - again, no one knows how to treat this man niceys as a CHARACTER. fanon phoenix (and to a greater extent fanon feenie) makes me want to rip and snarl and stab and bite (the only exception with fanon feenie is the feenie in electricity aside, i will not budge on this that that is the only interpretation of college phoenix that is appropriate and feels like phoenix.) people take it TOO far projecting onto him, is my main problem, to the point where they project traits onto him that do not fit his character at all (this is horny territory sorry but. why are there more than 0 fics on ao3 where he calls miles daddy. he would never do that. are we thinking of the same character.)
im mentally ill about them - i have adhd. self explanatory.
wow... they are LITERALLY me - not Quite a fill in because i do not kin phoenix wright, but a sort of fill in because phoenix wright kins me
ryunosuke! my buddy
theyre deeper than they seem - not a full fill in because i Believe this but i am not the authority on ryunosuke. i do not know this man as well as i would like to. i need to have a coffee with him some time and pick his brain
they got done DIRTY by the fans - people who woobify ryunosuke to make kazuma the cool one in their dynamic make me angy. ryunosuke has anxiety but he is not like a tumblr user with anxiety (ie, cannot ask for extra napkins at mcdonalds). also again sorry horny territory, but i have seen TOO many nsfw things with ryunosuke where hes written/drawn like an uke teenager or something. im sorry for the yaoi term but i dont know how else to describe this phenomenon of feminizing and babifying a grown man for the sake of gay shipping. stop it.
i want to carry them in a handbag like a tiny dog - i think hed enjoy the ride, give him a break from everything for a moment so he can just relax
they work better as part of a dynamic - again, partial fill in because i dont really Know if this is objectively true, like if i did have that coffee date with him maybe id change my mind, but i do think he works incredibly well as part of a dynamic. on his own hes perfectly fine but he is infinitely better next to kazuma, susato, iris, or sholmes imo
alright controversy time. beloathed character: clay terran.
dude fuck this lamp
wasted potential - this is almost a pity fill in because like. WHAT potential right. but he could have been MORE than just a stupid prop. we dont even get a proper scene with him. we get a flashback of a still image jpeg and i believe thats the only time he speaks, if he has any lines at all. im not saying EVERY character has to have the same level of character writing as the main characters, but if ur gonna try to convince me to give a shit about them and say theyre an important person to a DIFFERENT character i like, i need reasons
not as deep as they seem - genuinely sorry to the clay terran enjoyers but he is not a character. u are collectively creating an oc and using his face. he is more shallow than a shadow. he isnt even a character
they got done DIRTY by the fans - okay actually on second thought i think the fans got done dirty. the fans lost in this exchange. they were given a lamp and convinced themselves that it was their new husband, when in reality it is just a lamp with a hat
they got too much screen time/i actively dislike them sorry/why was this character in the work at all - perhaps this contradicts my ‘wasted potential’ stamp but like. that stamp was for what i WISH we could have gotten from clay. but what we were actually given is a prop that exists for one case and afaik never brought up again afterward. AND YET he was supposedly this very important influential figure in apollos life. NO HE WASNT. i keep joking that clay is a lamp, not just because of that parody blog, but because the story is fundamentally unchanged if clay were replaced with any inanimate object. the writers could have said ANYTHING had sentimental value to apollo and it wouldve been the exact same, and if u disagree with me ur deluded sorry
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An Unwitting Sanctuary // Luke Patterson
IN WHICH: Reader finds herself dropped kicked into a whole new world void of demons but filled with ghosts. Having grown up in a top secret religious Order it’s quite the adjustment temporarily stationed in a world less dangerous. But with the help of a trio of teen ghosts and a girl whose throat was nearly slit the transition isn’t fought.
Warnings: Swearing, violence, blood, demons, wounds, angst, and fluff
Words: 5.6k
A/N: Just another fic that I periodically worked on. This is a crossover with the Netflix original series Warrior Nun which I highly recommend.
TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!
Masterlist
It all started a decade ago when you lost your mother to an illness that had desiccated your family's happiness. Your father failed to find peace at the bottom of a bottle before he was a great father. In his last attempt to be a father, he made the tough decision to give you up to save you from watching his self-destruction and so he wouldn't hurt you.
That's how you found yourself numb on an airplane heading for Spain where you had been taken in. Tear tracks slowly drying on your pale cheeks, you tried to find what you did wrong for your parents to leave you.
"Hi." A sweet voice spoke from beside you. A girl with light brown hair in pigtails said with a bright grin, "I'm Ava."
A faint blush appeared on your cheeks at her words, but with one mention of your favourite show, you couldn't help but ramble. The woman beside Ava, her mother, smiled at how easily Ava could make someone happy. Ava and her mom remained by your side, even getting off the plane.
"It was nice to meet you." Ava beamed, revealing a missing tooth. Ava tackled you in a hug tightly, "You're my bestest friend in Spain."
Your little hand waved as Ava's small stature disappeared out the airport entrance with her mother leaving behind a forlorn little girl. A stoic woman using a cane slowly made her way to you emotionless as she glanced at a photograph in her other hand.
"Y/N Y/L/N? You may call me Mother Superion," The Nun questioned, resting both her hands on the head of the cane with such intimidation, "Follow me. You're very fortunate Cardinal Duretti and Father Vincent found you.
"Why do you wear robes?" Your innocent question was taken by Mother Superion with little regard. Mother Superion questioned if the Order could afford having a child in the midst of the Order members' sworn duty.
"It is my habit. It is an outward sign of my religious' consecration to God." Mother Superion spoke, leading the way to an unmarked black vehicle idling for the stoic Nun and the little child. A vehicle that would transport a small American child to a place devoid of parental love and nurtured guidance.
Now at eighteen years of age, you had seen more than most people saw their entire lives; you were no longer the bright-eyed little girl longing for her father's hug. You were a girl who matured beyond her years, dedicating her life to a mission civilians had no clue about. It was a hard life among your fellow Sisters, yet you were closest to the Warrior Sisters you had been assigned to. Mary, Beatrice, Camila, Shannon and Lilith; Mary being your closest friend given you both were part of The Order of the Cruciform Sword but not Nuns, having never taken the vows. Lilith had grown colder and bitter when Sister Shannon was chosen for the Halo, so it was often hard to be around her now.
Mostly when she was gunning to retrieve the Halo from the resurrected formerly quadriplegic teenager girl. A girl that would most likely lose her life if Lilith succeeded and you, along with Mary, made it your mission to stop Lilith. Which led you to a warehouse where Lilith was on a screaming Ava, the Nun so gone you had absolutely no doubts Lilith would any anything for the Halo.
"-and you can't even appreciate that." Lilith hissed in the other girl's ear, "Your loss."
The Divinium blade stabbed into the middle of the Halo, sending severe pain through the Bearer's body. Her echoing screams joining the mystical sound reverberating from the golden glowing Halo itself.
"Enough!" Mary shouted, sprinting as Lilith started to carve the Halo out of Ava's back. In an unspoken decision, Mary tackled the Sister while you scrambled on your knees. You wrenched the knife from Ava's backsliding the blood-soaked blade in your combat boot.
"Ava, you need to get to the side. If Lilith comes, use the skills you gained from the Order." You told the teenager as you helped her up before running to join the combat.
"Fuck off!" Ava shouted, scrambling over to her unconscious friend JC. Another example of why relationships and friendships were impossible, a casualty in the work against the demons.
Your closed fist slammed Lilith's left cheekbone sending a splatter of blood from her lips; you dropped into a defensive crouch. Gracefully twirling, you avoided the hard kick from Lilith while Mary wiped the blood from her face. Lunging back from Lilith, you kicked her thigh, getting distance from her.
Lilith was about to slam her boot into your midsection when a familiar sound echoed in the warehouse. You all went still scanning the room for the unfortunate Tarask that would appear after a portal opened.
"Mary?" Lilith breathed, focused on the golden ripple behind the operative, who slowly turned as the screech grew louder. You stepped back beside Lilith as the Tarask entered the dimension just as terrifying as the last time.
Slipping one of her shotguns, you raised it just taking a shot when it aggressively hit Mary, sending her halfway across the warehouse into a windshield. The shotgun in your hand started blasting at the increasingly pissed off demon.
Lilith was slowly unslinging the Divinium Sword from the scabbard on her back. Your eyes flicked from the movement to the Tarask towering in the room. It didn't take a genius to understand Lilith felt the need to prove herself as the rightful Bearer.
"Lilith, no." You sternly spoke, flinching when the Tarask flipped a car towards Ava and the boy. The horrendous Tarask stopped as Mary joined in, shooting him as your shotgun clicked empty.
Ava was stumbling back, keeping the boy behind her as the Tarask stalked her lifting one of its razor-sharp appendages. Lilith lunged in front of Ava in a moment of redemption as you tried to push Lilith away, but something lifechanging happened.
A twin gasp filled the area as you felt something enter your body from behind. Glancing down, you saw the appendage had impaled your lower stomach right after it went through Lilith.
"No!" Mary screamed as you choked on the pain flooding your system. Sound faded as you could feel rather than hear your scream. A dribble of liquid slowly ran down the corner of your mouth, the copper taste bitter.
Red hot pain came from your midsection along with a deep cut oozing blood from your arm where Lilith had sliced your skin open with the Sword. Lilith slumped onto your back as she screamed, which had you literally slide off the Tarask's appendage with the lubrication of your own blood.
Your body connected with the floor having a first-row seat as Lilith whispered something that aided Ava in fighting the Tarask. With the swing of the Sword, the Tarask burst into flames vanishing through a portal with Lilith still on it.
Your eyes fluttered as Mary limped over your prone form. Maybe now you could join your mother in peace.
"No! Keep your eyes open," Mary demanded, struggling to lift you with her leg. A thin bead of blood-stained your cheek as it ran a path from the corner of your mouth.
Your eyes shut completely faded into a painless sleep.
The next time you woke up in the medical ward where you would stay for weeks after miraculously surviving what should have been fatal. Things changed for you, leaving doctors unclear; even Jillian Salvius' scientists and herself couldn't figure it out. Things got better, but the whole teleporting and you could see the demons once hidden from you.
There were other things you do, but that wasn't as important as the current moment deep in the catacombs of Vatican City. Soon you left Warrior Sisters to help Mother Superion in keeping the Reject Nuns from stopping your mission. After the last one fled, you watched as the entire area grumbled, Beatrice must have to blow up part of the tomb to retrieve Ava from whatever she'd found. You were proven right when Father Vincent carrying Ava appeared.
The Sisters recounted what happened, leaving you shocked. Ava had managed to phase through the twenty feet of solid rock to steal Adriel's bones. Instead of a pile of bones, Ava had found that the supposed Angel had been waiting for her.
"He was alive?" You breathed, taken aback as Ava dropped the bomb that Adriel was alive and very much not an Angel.
"He's a devil." Ava's words proved correct when invisible forces shoved the line of people far across from you. Unlike anything, you had ever seen before in your life.
A dark-haired man strode down the middle confidently with one wave of his arms, sending people flying away and dust from his lost robes. The man was dressed entirely in black and oozed darkness. His eyes gazed at Ava before meeting yours with a smirk.
"Perfect."
Your eyes widened at his blunt statement issued directly at you, "Why is he looking at me like a prized possession?"
"Stay here." Father Vincent spoke, pushing in front of everyone to make his way to the man who should have never been let out. Something deep in your stomach felt wrong; Father Vincent sent your heightened instincts flaring.
You could hear a whisper in your head as somehow words reached across the great distance in Father Vincent's voice.
"My master." Father Vincent verbally revealed his betrayal, leaving you breathless. He was one of few people that raised you from childhood, and he was evil. Adriel whispered to Vincent's ear, he was no Father, before stepping around him.
"I admit my doubt laid in if you could be brought." Adriel's cultured voice spoke, staring at you, "My first step involved finding a capable human, 'A child's awakening born from despair. A child brought from a different part of the world'"
You hyper-focused on the approaching man, barely noticing anything else, even the glance between Ava and Lilith. The entire group began fighting the man cleanly and professionally, you were drenched in blood from close combat.
In a lull, two girls came close together, each with a heavy heart at the short conversation and plan they had made. Lilith had had a dream that the only way for you to be safe was teaming up with Ava and it meant possibly never seeing you again.
"This is what you dreamed?" Ava demanded her former enemy. Lilith shook her head.
"Not this exactly." Lilith murmured back, "It has to happen now. It's the only way, Ava."
Ava squeezed her eyes shut as memories from a much happier time came into her memory before all she knew was heartache.
"Ava, introduce yourself." Seven-year-old Ava looked up at her mother, "She looks sad."
Ava nodded her small head-turning to the other child next to her, "Hi. I'm Ava."
Ava felt happy when she managed to bring a smile to the girl beside her spending the next few hours talking. Ava hoped she would get to see you again, but life had other plans when the car accident happened. Ava would see when you were both jaded and cynical to the once innocent world they both knew.
Grabbing Lilith's hand as Beatrice engaged the combat, Ava, with the Halo's power and the changes in Lilith, opened a portal. A single tear fell from Mary's eye as she slammed her boot into the armour of your combat outfit.
"NO!" You screamed as the portal closed you from your friends, your team, your Sisters. You only caught sight of all them stalking towards your enemy.
The room, a garage of some kind, was modern with plants set in the glass wall with a well-used piano situated in front of it. The room was quiet, thankfully, as you hit the floor at a fast speed, still screaming. The thud echoed around the room as you laid on your side in the fetal position.
"Please let the stitches be fine." You prayed, pressing your hand against your lower right quadrant. Your hand came back wet and sticky as you shouted in pain.
The black clothing hid the blood from your wounds, Adriel's blood and blood from your opened wound. You army crawled on your back towards a material, grabbing the dark sweater you screamed as you pressed against the wound. The pressure almost sending you unconscious.
"It's a killer song."
Your breath hitched at the sound of a stranger, an American stranger too. You shuffled into the corner, unaware of the drops of blood you trailed.
"With Julie's voice, it will be great." Another voice spoke, faltering before speaking again, "Reggie? You okay, you've gone pale."
"Alex? Is that…is that blood?" Reggie, the guy that first spoke, whispered, looking at the drops leading to where the piano was situated. The two guys walked closer to where a small puddle of red liquid was smeared, "Yeah, that is definitely blood."
"Check on Ray and Carlos. I got Luke." Alex spoke, sharing a very concerned look with his bandmate. The two disappeared, unaware of the girl lightheaded intent on staying quiet.
With the room empty, you set about struggling to the bathroom for a mirror, the bruised skin barely shocking you. It came with being a Warrior Sister. Your hands shook as you washed the blood off, stilling at a door opening.
"Blood?" A feminine voice questioned. Peeking around the corner stood a Latina teenager with one of the boys from earlier, "Are you sure?"
"Yes. Deadly. No pun intended." Reggie spoke, leading the exasperated teenager to where the piano was; congealing was the bright red fresh puddle of blood, "Your family is fine."
"So is Flynn." Alex spoke, appearing with Luke beside him, "Luke was at the Orpheum.”
It seemed your body decided to betray you with a jump in your heart rate and a flutter in your stomach. You winced, removing the pressure from the dark sweater shuddering as the black shirt pulled away from the wound.
"That is a lot." The newcomer, Luke, spoke, coming to a stop in front of the puddle frowning as he double-checked his guitars were safe. Julie's voice made the boys ashamed when she noticed something they didn't.
"Did you happen to see there is a trail of blood as well?" Julie spoke, gesturing to the drops leading to the bathroom, "Whoever it is-"
Julie cut herself off with a scream as you lunged at her swinging a long sharp knife at her face; Julie stumbled, flailing as you glared at the terrified teenage girl. You didn't care who she was other than your mind was screaming danger. It was Julie being clumsy that was saving her life and you being weak.
"Oh my god! Julie!" Luke shouted at the sudden attack on his new friend and bandmate. All three were about to protect her, even though the sense of touch was still off and on.
You groaned, slumping to the ground once more, breathing heavily, and e/c eyes rolled back in your head, "Fuck."
"She's a ninja!" Reggie yelped, ushering the group away from the girl in agony. His eyes taking in her youthful appearance and the dark black combat outfit. He didn't miss the bruises and cuts on her paling face.
"She almost killed me!" Julie shouted at the bassist, "In case you didn't see?! That knife came very close to slitting my throat!"
Tears filled your waterline as a feeling of being weak flooded your body in such a way you had never felt. You couldn't even protect yourself. The sense of despair taking most of your pain away as a sob broke through.
"She's crying!" The panic in the messy-haired boy voice broke through your tears. Tilting your head to see the very terrified teenagers, the despair was taken over by guilt.
"I'm sorry." You spoke, leaning up, "For…uh attacking you?”
"Greatly appreciated." Julie sarcastically countered with a roll of her eyes, "Who are you?”
"No, Julie, what are you?" Reggie inserted, pointing towards you with his index finger, whereas Alex was intently watching your movements.
"I'm in America. Wow." You chortled, collapsing into a fit of laughter, "Just when I thought life couldn't get more surprising! Oh, wait, I dropped out of a portal in the middle of a fight."
"Can you explain why you're in our studio bleeding…oh, you're bleeding." Alex choked, bouncing on his feet as he frowned at your obvious pain. His eyes looking at the abandoned sweater you had been using against the wound, "If you promise not to attack can I get a first aid kit?"
You hesitantly nodded graciously, appreciating his kind offer, "Get a needle, thread and a lighter."
Luke and Reggie reluctantly helped move you to the couch, with Luke grumbling about stains; he didn't like that a bleeding girl would be on his couch. You wheezed sitting on it, Luke's eyes widening as you started removing the tight black leather.
"Uh, what are you doing?" Luke nervously questioned, scanning to find his friends. Julie had joined Alex in collecting your requirements, and Reggie was getting a bucket of water.
"Removing my armour?" You spoke, sending him a weird glance wincing when the layer pulled the remaining stitches—a curse slipping out of your full lips.
"Oh, that is disgusting." Luke grimaced, leaning away from the wound, still oozing blood and glancing at your chest with a deep blush.
With the other three joining with the items, they watched as you cleaned the area with a wet towel revealing more of the gore. A sharp gasp when you shifted to check the entrance wound on your back, deeming it okay, you inspected the exit wound.
"Okay, stitches tore only. That's good. I didn't want to deal with scrambling my organs." You chortled, removing your utility belt to fold and clench between your teeth.
Doctoring the wound took your mind off your friends' survival, but the thud of a body brought you back to the here and now. Reggie, having seen you about to pierce your skin with the needle, had fainted. You raised one eyebrow before looking at the other three.
"Uh, maybe look away?" You spoke, temporarily removing the belt from your mouth. Returning back to the task, you grunted as you stitched the wound as best as you could. By the time you finished, you were sweating.
"I fainted." Reggie groaned as he sat up, seeing that you were taking clothing from Julie and the first aid kit put aside, "I didn't think ghosts could faint."
Julie and the Phantoms went silent as Reggie revealed their biggest secret to someone new. Julie groaned, putting her face in her hands while Alex shot the same annoyed and exasperated expression at the bassist.
"Ghosts? Better than demons." You muttered with a sigh, "Can I use the shower?"
Julie mutely nodded as she took in both the lack of response and your retort. Fifteen minutes later, a very different version came out of the bathroom. You were swamped in the flannel Luke had offered and the shorts from Julie, but you kept your thick combat boots. It was odd seeing you so feminine and free of blood.
"Thanks." You smiled gratefully at the four teens, "So ghosts? Are all of you ghosts?"
"No. They died in 1995, I'm alive." Julie shrugged, taking a look at her newest best friends that had helped heal a part of her. Helped bring her back to music again, "I'm sure you may have heard of the band Julie and the Phantoms."
"No." You blankly replied, "Look, I was literally just at the Vatican an hour ago….which Beatrice partially blew up…"
Your words trailed off as the situation finally hit you full force because there was no way you were in Italy. Thinking back to the moments before you felt into a portal, you vaguely recalled Lilith meaning another dimension.
"I need a phone." You demanded, quickly retrieving the one Julie offered to type in the phone number ingrained in your memory. One of the many things that Mother Superion had beaten into you literally.
"Andalusia, Spain's Authentic Castle Tours. How can I help you?" The voice asked, located in Spain at a desk in a business building near a deteriorating church.
"Is Cardinal, I mean, a man named Duretti available?"
"I'm sorry, but we have no one in our employment by that name. Can I have a name, please?"
"Never mind." You gruffly replied, ending the call as you tossed the cellphone back to Julie, "I really did get transported. Stupid Vincent and Adriel."
A month was spent finding your bearings in a new dimension with people so far from your regular life it was astounding. Even though you had threatened Julie with a knife, at first, you had bonded with the girl. You were most peaceful when you were in the studio with Luke across strumming on his guitar to a new song. You had quickly become part of their friend group as time went on, and to be honest, you didn't really want to go back.
"What do you think?" Luke asked you, meeting your gaze, "Is it too soft?”
"Aren't you the expert?" You smirked as he disappeared and popped up beside you on the couch with a smile. You weren't like typical girls Luke had known back in the '90s.
"Are you okay?" Luke questioned, turning his entire focus to give you a perfect view of his gorgeous eyes you could never distinguish between brown, green or even blue.
"Yeah. It's weird not having Mother Superion judging my moves or training with Beatrice, but it's okay." You half-smiled, recalling the people that had been in your life every day for years, "I miss them. They were my family."
Luke understood more than Julie ever would, and he knew more about your history than the others, "I get that."
"I had a normal life. Parents that loved me and some friends I loved even at six years old. Memories of my mom are faded, but she got sick when I was five and passed a year later. My dad…he was struggling. His last good parental deed was putting me up for adoption." You admitted slouching to place your head on Luke's shoulder. His heart fluttered at the movement, "I never could make myself look him up. Hurt too much."
"Yeah. I understand the feeling." Luke breathed through his nose, leaning his chocolate mess of hair on yours. The warmth flooding your systems.
The studio was empty other than you and Luke while Julie was at school. Reggie and Alex had left right after the living singer. You guess Reggie had found Ray at the site for his current photography appointment. Alex had a few places he could be at.
"Y/N!" The faint call of your voice in the distance startling you. The harsh yet feminine voice of one of the Sister Nuns bubbling hope in your stomach.
"Did you hear that?" You asked the ghostly guitarist, who frowned in confusion. Your eyes flickered around the studio frantically, "What the- "
"Y/N!" The voice grew louder in the room, with only it heard by you. Your body moved without thinking to the barn doors.
The doors opened with a gentle push as you followed the smoky wisp to the backyard and Luke behind you. Laughter sounded miles away from Julie and Reggie coming down the cement steps. Alex trailing behind only to halt watching your movements and Luke's questions falling on deaf ears.
"Come on! You said it would work!" The grit in the voice that had a life just as difficult as you in losing people. The smoky wisp flashed into a glowing portal as shiny as a frozen pond in the winter.
"I'm a little new at this, Ava! Opening dimensions isn't something that comes with a manual!"
"Lilith? Ava?" You breathed, reaching one hand out to the portal displaying a scene of two of your friends. Each wearing their combat outfits and grimaces as Lilith raised one hand up.
"What in the hell is that?" Alex demanded, reaching to pull you back when your hand disappeared from the fingers to the wrist. Alex stumbled backwards at the sight of your hand being gone.
"The portal," Luke interjected as you became mesmerized with the portal that had your life, your mission in life waiting.
Glancing behind you, the four people that became just as important watched vigilantly as Ava and Lilith fell into the portal. The two girls quickly stood up in defensive movements scanning the surroundings.
Ava shoved Lilith off her to roll onto her stomach than her feet with a scowl. Ava's brown eyes clashed with your wide, shocked ones with an unmistakable look of relief. Ava's foot shoved the hand of Lilith's as her hand shoved Ava's calf.
"Did that just…did she just-"Reggie struggled to make sense of the two girls appearing out of completely nowhere. His light eyes frantically moving between the people in the vicinity.
Striding up to the two girls, you punched Ava in the face with a hiss as a splotch of blood splattered your cheek.
"Ow!" Ava shouted, holding her cheek from the force of the hit with a frown.
"That's for sending me to another dimension!" You exclaimed before tugging her into a hug that left both of you uncomfortable. Her growing up in an orphanage and you in the Order had very little physical affection, "Vincent?"
"Missing. Camila's been searching." Lilith interrupted, brushing the dirt from her clothing with a tentative smile. It was silent for a mere second before the formerly cold Nun lunged to hug you tight, "I'm so glad you're okay."
"Can someone please explain?" Alex questioned, flinching when Lilith made direct eye contact with the blonde drummer.
Her dark eyes staring the male down unflinching before her eyes found three other strangers standing around.
"Alex, this is Sister Lilith and Ava. We're teammates." You slowly admitted having kept some parts of the story from them.
They knew what you came from, a different world very different from theirs and worked for a secret organization. They didn't know much more than that as the Order's status as a secret.
"Teammates? Why are nuns involved in your group?" Luke asked, crossing his arms with furrowed eyebrows. Distrust sparkling in his hazel eyes for the first time since you first appeared in his life, and it hurt you.
"We're-”
"Ava!" Lilith hissed, narrowing her eyes at the American girl hellbent on breaking all kinds of rules. Ava's scathing glare, in return antagonizing her further, "The only reason you know about the Order is because of the Halo."
"Because I would still be a dead formerly quadriplegic girl!" Ava snapped, glaring down the person that became a frenemy after the Vatican, "This thing in my back is the only reason I'm alive!"
"I am so lost," Reggie mumbled under breath as the oddly dressed teenagers sparked into a rushed argument. His eyes caught Lilith's hand turning into a fist while Ava got all in the other girl's face.
Your eyes moved between the volatile duo that had brainstormed together to keep you safe. Without their secret plan, it was a wonder what Adriel would have had in mind with you. The memory of his fascination with your very being and the way it appeared he had somehow manipulated arrival to the Order. But how could he when he was trapped in a long-forgotten twenty-foot concrete tomb?
"Ava!" You commanded her full attention, "Stop. We have bigger things to worry about. Is there a plan to find Vincent?"
Both girls solemnly shook their heads in sync, "No."
"Let's get inside before Mr. Molina finds two strangers in his backyard." You ushered the two girls into the studio. Lilith scanned the building's interior, no doubt looking for threats as one would with the lives you had lived.
Ava was swift to take the kevlar upper body armour off her body, leaving a thin black long sleeve shirt. It was tossed onto the couch among the notebook you had been using for anything to do with your other life.
"What have I missed since Mary planted her heavy ass boot in my chest?" You demanded, recalling the painful feeling of Mary's kick. The tough girl didn't hold back in anything she did combat wise "How does she even walk in those cement traps?"
Julie and the guys found seats in the room around the three alien world individuals who spoke as if they were alone. They heard mentions of someone named Adriel and Areala with the odd mix of words they didn't comprehend.
"So we go back, and we kick his ass." You snapped, crossing your arms, "I didn't even get to use my new-"
"Are you forgetting he hit me, sending me a few feet in the air? How six of us, five being highly trained individuals, failed?" Lilith retorted, mirroring your stance, finding an ally in Ava's unstaggering support.
"They all threw daggers, Camilla unloaded her crossbow, Mary beating him with the shotguns and even shooting him? That barely left a dent! For fuck sakes, he took an arrow to the neck, and he still got up!" Ava completely snapped with a heated glare in her milk chocolate eyes with hints of dark chocolate.
"That goal wasn't to end him; it was just to kill seven minutes for Ava to recharge." Lilith uncharacteristically softened her tone. Her dark eyes lightened in both comfort and sympathy, "We almost didn't make out of the fight. Adriel brought his wraith demons-"
"Like the pussy he is." Ava scoffed, rolling her eyes at the look she earned from Lilith, "What! Just because you're a Nun doesn't mean I can't swear!"
"Question," Reggie spoke, raising his one hand in the air, receiving the Warriors' attention. She shrivelled under the glares of the Nun; your frown proceeded the sharp punch to Lilith's arm for her action.
"Don't be mean to him." You stepped closer to the band that had grown to be close with you despite the rough introduction. The arm of Luke's chair bumped your waist, knocking you off balance. Luke's warm hands settled on your hips to steady you.
"I only just got used to ghosts," Alex whispered to himself, pushing his hands through his hair. His expression solely of confliction and emotional agony.
"I'm sorry, but did he just say ghosts?" Lilith questioned, staring at the blonde-haired drummer, "Better question, why are you hanging around with them?"
"Because after I was so kindly shoved into another universe, they welcomed me in."
"After you nearly slit my throat too." Julie inserted, climbing to her feet to station herself beside you. Her face stoic, staring down the two females opposite to you and her.
In a moment of unison, the dead boys all stood up to match Julie in her support. Luke's hand brushing against yours momentarily before his pinky wrapped around yours. Lilith and Ava didn't miss the small movement.
"Lilith, Ava, these are my friends. Julie and her band of ghost boys." You softly spoke, nodding towards the Puerto Rican teenager with a smile, "This is Luke, Reggie and Alex."
Alex lifted his hand shoved it into his jean jacket pocket with a happy smile that belied his anxiety and confusion. Reggie's flushed cheeks squished as he beamed at the new people while Luke was more cautious.
"Ghosts?" Lilith questioned once more, with her stance becoming combative and distrusting. Her greying hair peeking out under her black combat veil, a testament to her time in the dimension where the Tarask took her.
"Relax. Lilith." Ava spoke, straightening up with her lips pursed together, but she refused to relax. The room had waves of tension from the people inhabiting the building at the moment, "We just came to grab you."
The residents all slightly stepped in front of you, Luke's one arm behind him as he kept his pinky intertwined with yours. While the whole story hadn't been revealed to them, they knew that whatever waited in your homeworld was much worse than a pesky Broadway wannabe ghost in vintage wear.
"I don't know the full story, but she is not returning with you. There's a reason why you sent her here." Luke passionately spoke, glancing at the two girls with ulterior motives to dropping in for a casual conversation.
Your finger squeezed the messy-haired guitarist's own finger before you stepped around the wall of four musicians. Your name whispered behind you as you stepped up to the Warrior Nuns in front of you. The room filled with tension.
"Lilith, unlike you and the other Nuns, I didn't choose this life. Neither did Ava. We both got handed a really shitty hand of cards that ultimately placed us in the path of the Order." Your hands reached out to grasp the older girl's hands.
Luke sent a look to his bandmates with a sick feeling sinking in his stomach as he anticipated your decision to leave. It physically ailed him as if it hadn't hit him before that this world wasn't the one you were from. Why wouldn't you want to get back to your own world with your family?
"-But you can't come back." Is the words Ava spoke that had Luke coming back to the present. A certain light feeling took over him.
"Not yet, at least." You murmured with a bittersweet smile placed on your pretty features. Despite ignoring it, Lilith and Ava had already known from the moment they saw your interactions with the band what the outcome would be.
This was your home. At least for now. Lilith couldn't blame you, not after what happened, and that was okay. It was safer with you here until they could figure out a plan about the havoc in their own world.
"If you want, you can stay here for the night." Julie offered with a small smile, "That way, you can catch up properly. My dad would be cool with the guys bunking in the basement."
After the Orpheum, the boys had developed the capability to be seen when they wanted, and Ray was informed of certain parts. Ray knew much about them, but he wasn't privy to the tidbit that the guys were dead.
"We have to head back. You're completely sure you don't want to come with us? Things may go bad, and we won't be able to get you back. You'll be stuck." Lilith warned you with a faint smile upturning the corners of her lips.
"I'm not stuck. I think this is where I was always supposed to be, even if it's only temporary. In this life or the next."
"In this life or the next." Ava and Lilith echoed back before they opened the portal to your former world. The portal closed behind them, leaving you with a bittersweet feeling in your very soul.
A single tear trailed down the apple of your cheek as the life you once had closed, and who knew it you could return to that chapter. Calloused fingers brushed the tears off your cheeks before a pair of lips lingered on your forehead.
"You good?" Luke murmured against the warmth of your head. His heart ached for you because while his parents didn't know he was dead, he had the opportunity to visit them.
"I will be." You whispered, tiptoeing to press your lips against his soft pink lips. Luke sharply inhaled at the action before he melted into it.
Yeah, you would be okay.
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no chances - scaled and icy
okay so i did a full breakdown on this song and i figured that i should share it with you guys. hopefully you guys can help me out with this and we can bounce theories off of each other.
(btw i stole stuff from genius lyrics thats why it’s formatted like that)
these are just my personal theories don't come for my throat if you disagree with me pls it's not that deep i promise you.
okay this is gonna be kinda long so
okay my main theory is that this song is between the bishops and the banditos, possibly fighting over tyler and josh.
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[Intro]
We come for you, no chances
We come for you, no chances
i think the really deep voices are the bishops speaking. these voices appear multiple times throughout the album and this song specifically.
they are telling tyler/josh/the banditos that they will come for them and they have no chance of escaping them
sai is propaganda directly corresponds with this because we only hear what the bishops want us to hear through tyler and josh.
[Verse 1]
In my house shoes in a foot race
In this house we got feng shui
Get the door to blow you away
Flamethrower, you a switchblade
the only connections that i could really make with these lines is in the last one.
Flamethrower, you a switchblade
in the song levitate tyler says “ And ever since the seventh grade I learned to fire-breathe ” we know that the banditos like fire as well and use it as their main source of light at their camps. we also see that nico has a blowtorch looking thing to heat up the glass.
i cant figure out much about the switchblade part, since he might have just added it to rhyme or something but if i do i will reblog this post with what i find.
Feet planted on grip tape
With my shoulders squared, and my back straight
Got a good base and a loose tongue
Notorious in the octagon, now
i used to take tae kwan doe, and these are just basic things that you learn while practicing, so maybe he is getting ready to fight something or someone.
Notorious in the octagon, now
okay i might be reaching with this one but hear me out. how many sides does an octagon have? eight right? okay how many bishops are there (minus nico)? eight, that’s correct. also when you look at the city of dema
if you look the right way those little buildings around the center nine, are divided into four sets of two or whatever. this image is a bad example but i don't care enough to look for the right one LMAO.
anyways, to the point. i think notorious in the octagon is a reference to how well know tyler would be in dema, since they all know about twenty one pilots because of the feature performance event.
[Chorus]
We got people on the way
We want you home in one piece now (Run away, run away)
i think this is actually the banditos trying to reach tyler and josh, not the bishops. why would the bishops tell tyler to run away? they already have him. I also think that home for tyler and josh is with the banditos, not the confines of dema.
the banditos are also telling tyler and josh that they have people on the way to come and save them like they went to save tyler in NATN.
it could be the banditos but i severely doubt it because it is tyler singing and not the deep voice symbolizing the bishops.
We get bodies every day
We want you home in one piece now
okay the bodies everyday part is throwing me off but my best guess is that they may be talking about clancy. we know that scaled and icy is an anagram for clancy is dead, so this could be alluding to that. they could also be talking about the residents of dema that lose their fights in dema and pass away.
“we want you home in one piece” again i think that this is the banditos telling tyler to come home with josh safely and to avoid trouble as best as they can while doing so.
[Verse 2]
How'd you get the location? Put together pieces?
They say they sell the information
In those terms of agreement
this could be about the banditos or the bishops. let me explain.
if it was from the banditos they could be asking the bishops how they got the location of their camp to snatch tyler (levitate music video) in the first place since they cannot see the color yellow.
maybe the banditos sell the information on the bishops and other things to the people trapped in dema (or possibly others???)
if it was the bishops they could be asking the banditos how they get the locations of the residents and how they know to get into dema in the first place.
maybe a dema resident sells information to the banditos (like clancy? we know keons is the nicest bishop from his letters)
We spent some weekends on the grind
Surveillances outside, we see when you arrive
this could connect to the outside. we know that the bishops have some sort of surveillance system because on the control center for the live stream it is set up like an old fashioned surveillance system. (i will do a breakdown on that too)
maybe the bishops are telling the banditos they see when they arrive because of said security system.
Ride or die, my son
reminds me of the song ride, whos bishop is listo. so he could be talking to one of his subjects. this could be any bishop really i think that its the bishops and not the banditos because the second time that they repeat this it’s in that super low voice that definitely signifies the bishops speaking.
- from then it is just the chorus and the outro which is the same as the intro.
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anyways that was just my take on the song, feel free to let me know what you think i love hearing other’s theories.
i will also be doing this for all the songs on scaled and icy and may do it for some on trench and how they correspond to sai.
i will definitely do other theories and breakdowns because i really enjoy going through everything and piecing it all together. as i work ill make a master post and a tag so you can search my account for it and find it easy.
i will also break down the live but that will take longer because its literally over an hour long and not a three minute song lololol.
(p.s. i dont care enough to proof read this because i just watched the live and im tired)
#twenty one pilots#scaled and icy#trench#scaled and icy songs#dema#nico#listo#keons#clancy#clancy is dead#banditos#bandito#dma#dmaorg#tyler joseph#josh dun#no chances#i already did redecorate i just need to type it out#have fun with this it took forever do i regret it? no#honestly it was kinda fun#i will be listing to redecorate on loop now#also ill edit this as i find mistakes#no beta we die like men
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Plague Rat Chapter 2
REMINDER- If People WANT to be tagged they need to MESSAGE me. I have a hard time going through notes to find people.
@kibastray, @virgil-is-a-cutie @anastasian-dreamer @thesunanditsangel, @magicalfirebird @thefoxandthewofs, @storyecho
Hospitals were sadly a breeding ground for Akuma. People angry at their diagnostics, people angry about waiting so long, doctors furious hat people were being idiots.
Often Ladybug and Chat would let some Akumas rampage a bit if they felt it was needed. One memorable one was a woman who’d lost her baby and who had needed to rip into the river who had hit their car while on the phone. She had forced everyone to see what had happened to her and her baby when they were hit.
Car accidents had dropped quickly after that.
Due to that often the news would stake out hospitals, and they had custom alarms to alert them to the fact there was trouble. The hospital would send a photo to the news quickly to warn the public.
So no one was to shocked to see a new Akuma, even if she was a bit odd-looking.
Adrien knew it was Marinette as soon as he saw it. Hawkmoth had seen her as Multimouse it seemed and was happily using it to taunt them. He felt a spark of guilt in his stomach at seeing her. Everyone knew what had happened- that Alya had exposed her to her sick sisters because of Lila. The entire class was eyeing Lila now, even as she claimed new things, that she hadn’t meant for this to happen.
Adrien felt a little sick.
He did believe in the high road, but he had tried to make sure Marinette was okay. He fought for her, told Lila off and managed to prove to Nino and a few of the others that Lila was lying about Marinette.
But it was never enough. And it wasn’t like Lila really meant harm right? She wasn’t that far gone. Maybe she had simply thought Marinette was exaggerating the issues she had with her immune system. Maybe…
Adrien didn’t want to think he could have messed up so badly- that Lila wasn’t a good person or that he was wrong and some people were just bad. He wanted to believe in the good in everyone and maybe that was naive but he did.
Still, maybe you know… taking the long route to go save Lila might be a good idea. You know to see if any civilians were hit.
Not to let Marinette’s get a few hits in of course not!
-0-
Alya had been the first hit. Plague Rat had used her IV stand like a weapon and had shot her with a dark energy that swarmed her. She had started coughing, black marks covering her arms. The akuma… Marinette had told her if she told the truth it would be her cure before she’d left, mentioning she wasn’t her target.
Alya had hesitated before confessing but the coughing was slowly getting worse and so she just started talking. Confessing she had dumped the twins on Marinette and never paid. Confessed she had been sneaking out at night. Confessed she had been jealous of Marinette. Confessed she felt like a bad friend to Marinette and she had been desperate for her to be lying so she could prove to herself she wasn’t.
She had even confessed she had been lying to herself and that she had always known that Lila’s stories were far fetched but at the time they made sense until she really started to look and then she started lying to herself because she was scared. Scared about what it meant about her that she went for them, treated her friend badly. What it meant for her blog.
When she was done her cough and black marks were gone and she felt better. Her parents looked stunned while Marinette’s had left when she started talking. Didn’t want to hear it.
She didn’t blame them.
-0-
Tikki flew around the hospital, looking for someone to help. She needed to find someone who would give the earrings back, who would be willing to fight.
She found her answer in a nurse.
“Ack!” the nurse jerked back, eyes wide upon seeing her. “What… wait, you’re a Kwami!”
“... Were you there when Queen Bee revealed herself?” asked Tikki.
“Yeah, I was… shit, was Ladybug hit? Is she… no.” the nurse shook her head. “I don’t need to know.”
“Thank you. I need your help, please! We need a ladybug!” Tikki begged. The nurse blinked, before she opened the door she was near to show a doctor standing there, eyes wide.
“Uhhh, Dr. Sole-”
“Go.” the doctor said. The nurse nodded.
“I’m Amy by the way,” she told Tikki, taking the earrings and removing her studs to put the earrings in.
“Tikki. Now, normally an adult can use the Miraculous multiple times before needing to untransform, but the Ladybug is different in it uses a lot more magical energy and you need to be in tune with it. You’re a healer, you’re in tun enough you can use me for about six minutes after using Lucky Charm.”
“...How young are the current Ladybug and Chat?” asked Amy and Tikki had to answer, wincing.
“Ladybug is fourteen. She has great magical potential and resonates incredibly strongly with me. In the future…”
“I get it.” Amy sighed. “Long term gains. Still- I’ll give you my address later. They can swing by if needed to chat or for first aid.” She nodded and asked for the transformation phrase. Tikki grinned.
She liked this girl. Maybe she would work with a Miraculous herself.
-0-
Plague Rat, most of Paris decided, was more of an annoyance then a threat. She didn’t have destructive powers, she just made you sick until you confessed your lies. Which some of the police were finding helpful as criminals were being forced to confess things and did cause a few people to get slapped when they confessed they were cheating on their partners.
Someone for fun began live streaming and following the Akuma. No one thought it was that bad, and a new station quickly managed to pay to have the stream be put on their show.
No one thought it was bad.
Until the Mayor got hit and he collapsed, covered in dark spots and vomiting blood.
“Confess or die.” Plague Rat told him. “Your lies are numerous and you will die if you do not confess.” The mayor screamed she couldn’t do this to him but as his breath became shakier and his body, in front of everyone, began breaking down, began to confess. Every bribe, lie and extortion he had done. Every single thing he had done to become mayor. The fact he had paid off the judge not to put Chloe in jail for her actions as Miracle Queen. The fact he took bribes from Hawkmoth not to have the police go after him. The fact he was cheating on his wife with a dozen women.
It kept going, and slowly the plague began slinking off him. Plague Rat simply watched as did everyone else. The Livestream kept going and all of Paris realized that while she wasn’t causing destruction, Plague Rat really was a dangerous Akuma.
Every person like the mayor felt terrified. None more so than a teenage girl who had been cornered by the first victim of Plague Rat, and through her discovered that like a true plague, the Akuma’s disease was contagious even after being cured.
Lila vomited blood in front of her mother, who had been with her, in front of her classmates who had also come to confront her, in front of Alya’s camera.
“So you are nothing more than a fucking liar,” Alya said, voice shaky as she stood there. She had begged her parents to let her confront Lila, begged them to let her Livestream this. She had just wanted the girl to be exposed. She didn’t want this. “Tell the truth, Lila, tell it!”
“I’m not-” Lila coughed and more blood came out.
“We all saw it on TV Lila, you keep lying and don’t confess…” Alya closed her eyes and then opened them. “I wouldn’t have come if I knew I would infect you. But I doubt that Marinette wouldn’t have come herself.”
“You’re right.” a voice said, and the Akuma was behind them. “I would have.” They all turned to stare at her but the Akuma was looking at Lila. “Confess or die.”
“You wouldn’t kill me,” Lila said, but she screamed as she collapsed and one of her legs looked like it was rotted away.
“Why?” The Akuma tilted her head and waited. Lila looked so lost and scared as she lay there. “You’re nothing but a liar. What power do you have over me?”
“I worked with Hawkmoth!” Lila snapped, and a tiny amount of black marks vanished from her. “He wouldn’t-”
“You’re nothing to him. You have no protection from him. You’re nothing.” Plague Rat told her and Lila looked so lost while everyone else was in shock. “Confess.”
Lila didn’t but she ended up vomiting again, this time teeth coming with it. It was enough.
“I lied about knowing Ladybug, Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale. I lied to my mother about school being closed and told everyone I was in Achu. I don’t know Prince Ali.” Lila began and it kept going. She talked and talked, telling every truth she’d lied about. About getting Marinette expelled, about lying about Marinette bullying her. She told how she had lied to Gabriel Agreste about the class and how she had been manipulating Adrien to try and force him to date her. Including her attempt to claim he had slept with her but refused to date her. Gabriel hadn’t believed it and it had caused issues with her business partnership she was trying to correct.
“... you know I never thought lies hurt people.” Remarked a voice and they looked to see Chat Noir standing there. “Her lies were so stupid I thought they weren’t worth exposing. But…”
No one knew he was kicking himself, thinking of the fact it took him hearing he was her next target to make him realize she was dangerous.
“I can’t…” Mrs. Rossi looked ill while Lila scowled at them all, almost fully cured.
“I want to know- did you know I could die when you told Alya I had to be lying? Did you purposely try to kill me?” Lila looked at the Akuma, her face screwed up. A long moment passed.
“I don’t give a single damn if you live or die. I wanted you in the hospital. If you died… I would have been happy.” Lila spat out and Alya dropped her phone, while everyone stepped away from Lila in horror.
Plague Rat nodded.
“That’s all I wanted to know.” She turned and looked as an adult in red and black landed. The woman looked like she had black armour on, with the red dots on her chest forming a red cross. “Who are you?”
“Ladybug was one of your first victims at the hospital. She couldn’t confess as her lies were about being Ladybug, so her kwami looked for someone to help. I’m a nurse there. Call me… Nurse Bug.”
“...Ok.\, that’s bad.” Chat said. “Healer Bug!”
“That’s bad too.” Nurse Bug told him while Plague Rat tilted her head and a butterfly appeared around her face. She was silent for a second before she began speaking, but this voice was different.
“I did not know the extent of Miss Rossi’s actions. I would never condone them.” Hawkmoth’s voice came from Plague Rat. “However, I still demand your Miraculous!” Nurse Bug and Chat Noir got ready to fight.
“Any combat training?” Chat asked quietly.
“Some judo training.” Nurse Bug said before they launched themselves at Plague Rat who used her IV stand to bat them away. Nurse But however dodged under it and grabbed it from her, twisting around and bringing it down to smash on the ground, releasing a butterfly she quickly used the yoyo to grab.
“...What the fuck?” Chat asked.
“Do you know how many patients try to hit us with that. That’s normal.” Nurse Bug said, purifying the Akuma.
The people watching though were more focused on Lila who still wasn’t fully cured of the plague caused by the Akuma. Meaning she had many, many more lies to say.
When Marinette stood there, shaking in her flimsy robe, Alya said in a very dark voice to Lila.
“I will gladly give this video to the police. Mrs. Rossi, are you willing to let Lila be charged?” Lila opened her mouth but her mother beat her to it.
“Yes.”
Lila’s face went pale.
#ml au#ml salt#miraculous ladybug#akumanette#tw death#tw plague#lila salt#lila exposed#alya salt#alya redemption
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Hi so I saw your post talking about anti-psychiatry, it's ableist roots and how we should reasrch them. This is news to me and I was just wondering if you have any pointers where we should start? Totally okay if not, I'm sorry if I bugged you it's not your responsibility to educate me.
i have a very new tag for it here (link) containing an answered ask here (link) that will hopefully serve as a decent jumping-off point—make sure to read the “bad anti-psychiatry” collumn closely because there are an unfortunately high number of terfs who consider themselves ‘anti-psychiatry’ but their anti-psychiatry arguments tend to fall into the “bad anti-psychiatry” category.
i do also want to preface your self-education journey by recommending a book called crazy like us: the globalization of the american psyche by ethan watters; i’m presently working my way through the audiobook (i frequently find that i need to take breaks from it because i’m someone who is very easily triggered by mentions or discussions of medical abuse or topics which bring thoughts about those things to mind) and it covers the damage westernization has done to the treatment of neurodivergence around the world as the result of colonialism and imperialism. if you get the chance to read it, even just some chapter titles that strike you as interesting or important, it should lend you some useful information and perspectives.
i’ve said this before a few times but i’ll say it again here: i am anti-psychiatry for many of the same reasons i am a prison abolitionist and believe that abolition will do more good than reform ever could. reforming a broken system does little to help the people being harmed the most by it. the psychiatric system prioritizes functionality (for the sake of coercing people into a socially acceptable, labor-capable state of being) over a person’s general wellness.
every single time i have been involuntarily committed to a psych ward, it has traumatized me and i am probably going to be living with ptsd for the rest of my life, all because a handful of different psychiatrists thought my refusal to take medications needed correcting. they didn’t care that those medications made me physically ill all the time, they only cared about controlling me in a patronistic (read: condescending) manner. all my life, psychiatrists (and most of my therapists) have pathologized my queerness, tried to make me ashamed of my autism, tried to convince me that living as an unmedicated psychotic person would kill me, and undermined my overall happiness by forcing medications, therapies, and other treatments onto me, none of which have made me feel as healthy or happy as being voluntarily unmedicated has. and my story is not unique in the slightest; i have met dozens of other autistic and psychotic people who have had similar experiences and are now living with the effects of trauma because of the psychiatric system.
in my opinion, it also doesn’t matter that newer students of psychiatry are being taught marginally different things than older generations were. there are still centuries of ableist stigma (against psychotic people in particular) that have yet to be addressed. at this point, reforming the system is too little too late. abolition can and will save lives, and that’s why i’m anti-psychiatry.
#thanks for your patience#i was at work all day#and also wanted to make sure i answered this thoroughly#antipsychiatry#anti-psychiatry#anons#psychosis tag#psych abolition
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Thank you for reblogging that "on anon hate" piece. 🥺 It's something I'm scared of and I know that's silly 😅 and uh can you share how you get over anon hate? I could use any advice and thanks if you answer I hope your back feels better!!!!!!
Warnings: Dealing with anon hate and slight mention of mental illness/su*cide.
Of course, Hon, and thank you! It also is not silly at all! I used to have that fear on my old blog, and it did end up happening (as it does time from time here) so I can give you tips and whatnot.
First, let me address the problem that I have been seeing while I have been lurking. These past few days I have noticed an increase in anon hate or anon asks that try to pass off being good, but you can tell they are just condescending. It hurts to see that especially in the One Piece fandom where I have seen nothing but support aside from the occasional anon that gets unruly- But when that happens we all come together to defend that writer. That is what a good fandom is.
So, these few bad anons are trying to stir something up and it does work unfortunately and that is something I can’t stand. Especially when they go to blogs and harassing the writer in THAT writer’s safe space. Like hot damn, they are shitty people to do that.
These Past Few Days:
Of course, in one of the instances, I saw these past few days one of the “bad anon” was purely miscommunication and they apologized to that writer since. The other bad anon to a different writer was purely a total jerk since they were able to successfully hurt the writer mentally.
The anon function is meant for a lot of good things such as shy people, people wanting to give constructive criticism, those who do not want their blogs to be known by many people, people who get overwhelmed, people who want to spread love without it being a big deal (even though it is. Your hearts are big for that and everyone loves you for that pure intention).
The anon function is not meant for hate- That is abusing the anon function.
I, personally, use the anon function for my mutuals when I get anxiety when requesting something or just wanting to tell them how much they mean to me- When people use the anon function for that, such as their anxiety/they are just shy and whatnot I see them as hella brave for doing so. In this case, you are brave <3
HOWEVER- When people decide to use the anon function to send hate: That is literally the lowest thing you can do in not only my eyes but other people. You are sending hate knowing that it may not trace back to you. So, congrats if you do this- You are a coward.
As for whatever reason, someone wants to send hate, in the cases, I saw recently it was because the writers were wanting to open up to more fandoms. Fuck those anons who made the writers change their minds. It is not the anon’s blog- It is the writer’s. They are allowed to do whatever the hell they want without anyone’s permission. It is their safe space.
If you as an anon- Feel so obligated to send a writer or any other person your opinion on their blog saying you do not like something they wrote, you don’t care for this or that, or in your eyes, they are taking too long on your request, and you spam them with hurtful words ON THEIR BLOG, NOT YOURS- I really hope you can find peace one day because that ain’t it chief.
How fucking dare you try to hurt someone in their own safe space.
Those who have sent hate:
I genuinely hope you find a better thing to do with your life. I hope your words do not affect the person they reached. I have not a clue why anyone sends hate and it still bothers me today that they do but if you have any bit of empathy think of not just the person who you send hate to but the people that love them.
You could be the last thing that makes them go over a dark edge.
You have no idea what the person you send hate to is going through.
That person you sent hate to can have mental illnesses that makes them think whatever you say is true and seriously you are the biggest asshole on the planet if you wanted that to happen.
That person can be suicidal. (Of course, to some jerks who believe others will not act because of something on the internet, they have things outside in their real lives that make them feel that way. Your words can just be a breaking point.)
They could be clinging onto a shred of a will to live- Do not be that jerk that ruins it. Karma does bite back.
Words do hurt others and no matter how silly you may think it is- Words do have an impact.
Let me say that again because there are jerks who don’t believe that: You may think it is silly, but words do have an impact.
Now for the question, this lovely anon asked- How do you deal with anon hate?
Anon hate is going to happen, unfortunately- Especially to those who do not deserve it at all, and I despise that so much.
Personally, for me, it honestly still bothers me from time to time, but I have grown to get past it with multiple methods, so I hope these help.
Report and block them.
This is the top recommendation that I suggest. I have been sticking to this one without mercy for this blog and it has worked wonders. Anons who send hate are trying to get a reaction out of you so the easiest thing to get them to knock it off and move on with their lives is to report them for harassing you and blocking them. You can block anon asks by the three dots (I believe it’s been a while lol).
Bad anons thrive on attention. Just do not give a reaction and they will stop eventually.
Laugh it off
My actual first anon hate on this blog made me laugh so hard because they told me to off myself, but they misspelled it terribly. Yeah, it stung but it was more funny than hurtful to me. So if their message are hurtful remember that these people are abusing the anon function- A cowardly act and that makes it even funnier since they don’t want to deal with any consequences based on their behavior. In other words: They are childish.
If they are relentless then that usually means they are obsessed with you which is not healthy. (Lowkey recommend they see a therapist.)
Just call them out on having a crush on you and if they continue to harass you- Most likely denying it as hateful anons do, then you can safely say that yes, they have a crush on you (I used to do this on an old blog and when I tell ya it gets them mad lol)- This method works to just laughing it off so eventually you can grow to ignore them.
If you absolutely have to answer it- Tag your friends/mutuals or make sure they can see it so they can defend you. They are your support system
In this fandom- I always see so much support when it comes to getting hate so I know that it will happen. I can’t vouch for other fandoms/places of tumblr though.
Take the option to be on anon on your blog away- They go quiet really fast
Seriously- If it is bothering you please just take the anon function away until you feel comfortable enough to allow anons back on. You may feel sad for the good anons but they will understand why you did so. After this, please seek your support system if you need to vent about that bad anon.
My favorite other option that you can do while mixing it with these other options is to continue being you out of spite. Show them that no one can change you.
For my fellow sensitive people: Our subconscious minds think everything is true. It will hear or see one thing and it has no filter so it will go: Oh yeah- That is 100% correct- Even whatever you just read from the anon. For those who get hurt by anon hate and have a mental illness like me- I also suggest trying to rewire your brain with positive affirmations so it will be easier to realize that whatever the anon says is not true at all. It may take a while or may not be for everyone but it can help.
Overall?
It sucks but the best thing to do is to ignore, block, and continue on with your day spreading love and knowing you are a good person compared to them.
Maybe one day they can learn to love themselves and stop hating others (if the bad anon claim they do love themselves and can continue to be that way that just means they are extremely toxic and narcissistic and definitely will not switch their away around any time soon) but in the meantime be the bigger person than them (or have badass friends who don’t care and will fight to the death for you- For legal reasons that is a joke).
You have many options but just know that anon hate does not set your whole mood. That they may get off on sending hate but that is what their whole hobby is. While yours can be sending love- Your whole world does not consist of being on tumblr. It may be a safe space for you but remember you can also start anew if you need to. Do not let some silly hateful anon ruin your mood or make you afraid to go online. Do not give them that power.
Now on a much happier ending note, remember that these bad anons do not care about you if they are sending hate. However, there are people who go out of their way to tell you that they adore your content/your blog. They care and I think it is beautiful that they show it and come together to help others when needed.
This turned into an essay oops (1712 words yo)- Anyway, I hope that this helps you anon and I hope that it helps anyone else who may come across it. No matter what just remember you are loved.
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The Duty of a Captain - Part Two
A/N: Hello Everyone! So this is the first fic that I have written like this. Posting chapters once I’m finished with them. I usually try and write the whole thing and then post each chapter on a schedule, but I was just so excited to tell Doc’s story that I thought I’d try this! If you want to be tagged whenever I post a new chapter of Doc’s story, please message me and let me know! Oh! Ad the italics are Docs thoughts (sorry if thats not clear, Im still a learner lol).
Length: ~2600 words (damn I did not mean to make it that long. I thought maybe 1000 lol)
Warnings: mentions of death, blood, abuse, pong krell, angst
Previous
It had taken more time than usual to get all of the field equipment back to the Jedi cruiser Tolerance. With so many men being lost, there were not as many hands to get the usual post battle procedures done and General Krell was not happy with the delay.
Doc had been called back to the cruiser before the rest of his men down on the surface to deliver the mission report to the Jedi council alongside the Besalisk Jedi. He had finished the troop requisitions and mission report hours ago and had begun helping the others load up equipment when he got the transmission.
Now, as he held onto the handle of the gunship that had been sent to pick him up, he held his breath. He had never spoken to the Jedi council before, but he had heard stories. He remembered hearing his captain talking about how intimidating it was. How even from across the galaxy, they could feel the slightest thing. How the combined power of all of those Jedi masters was a force to be reckoned with. At least, that is what the general had told his former captain.
He was afraid to face that much power. If the other Jedi were anything like his general, he wanted the meeting with them to go by as fast as possible.
He imagined what they might be like. He envisioned powerful warriors, all huge and intimidating like his general. With merciless eyes and a scowl that sent fear through the bodies of anyone who dared to look upon it. He imagined their lightsabers never being too far away from their hands, ready to be ignited and run through something or someone at a moment’s notice.
Doc was pulled from his thoughts when the voice of the pilot came through his comms and he felt the ship being maneuvered into the main hanger. “We’re here sir.” The doors opened as the ship was set down, revealing Krell waiting in the hanger with his arms crossed behind his back.
“Thanks for the lift Short-stuff,” Doc said as he stepped out onto the metal floor of the hanger.
“Anytime sir.” The doors to the ship closed behind Doc as he began walking away, his hands reaching up to take off his helmet. “Oh, and sir?”
Doc briefly stopped and looked up toward the cockpit, his hands halting on the sides of his head as the man stared back at him.
“Good luck.”
Doc finished pulling off his helmet, a small smile gracing his features as he gave the pilot a quick nod.
“CT-5770, start moving! I have a mission report to give and will not be blamed for you making me late.”
Doc spun around, quickly making his way to follow the general out of the hanger. “Yes, sir. My apologies, sir.”
Krell dismissively waved his hand, not bothering to look behind him at Doc as he spoke. “Am I correct in assuming that you are ill equipped for this situation?”
Doc furrowed his brow, thinking through what he had already done. He had already turned in the mission report, and the casualty and damage reports. What more could he do to be prepared? “Excuse me, sir,” he asked, confusion lightly lacing his voice.
“Feeble minded clones,” Krell muttered under his breath. He stopped and spun around, looming over the captain. “You have never given a mission report to any Jedi before? Correct?”
Doc swallowed and stood straighter, coming to attention. “Yes, sir. That is correct, but all troops are trained on Kamino to be knowledgeable about—”
“Enough. I do not care about the laboratory that bred you or what you claim to know. Since you have never done it, let me give you some rules that I expect you to follow exactly. Is that understood?”
“Of course, sir.”
“Good.” Krell turned back around and kept walking toward the bridge. “You are to stand behind me at all times unless told otherwise. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You will remain silent and will only speak when spoken to directly by myself or the council.”
“Yes, sir.”
“When you are asked a question, you stick to the description of the battle that I give. The council does not have time to listen to your view of the smaller picture. Is that clear?”
Doc hesitated for a moment. “Why would the battle descriptions be different?”
The door to the bridge whooshed open and Krell walked up to the command table. “Do I make myself clear CT-5770,” Krell snapped over his shoulder.
“Yes, sir,” Doc said, the hesitation still apparent in his voice.
Krell threw a cold look over his shoulder as he stepped back, waiting for the transmission to begin. “Good.”
Doc felt a shiver run down his back as he came to attention behind Krell. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, afraid that the Jedi council would be able to sense his fear of them. Or worse, that Krell would be able to sense his unease about his presence alone.
“Incoming transmission from Coruscant, sir.”
“Put it through.”
Nine blue figures suddenly appeared on the table and Doc’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise before he catches himself and returns to a neutral face.
They don’t look anything like Doc had imagined them. All of them are wearing soft looking robes with their hands resting gently in front of them. Their lightsabers are tucked away, either out on a hip, or hidden within the fabrics they wear, far away from the hands that might wield them.
They do not dress like warriors, not wearing any armor. Those that do only wear basic arm and leg guards.
None of them look particularly threatening, especially considering that one is not even as tall as Doc’s knee.
They all share the peaceful demeanor and kind eyes that one would find in the company of an old friend.
“This can’t be right,” he thinks to himself. “This has to be some kind of trick to get me to slip up. Jedi aren’t kind.”
Krell does a small bow. “Shall we wait for the other three members of the council to arrive, Master Yoda?”
Doc once again has to keep himself from making a face when the small creature directly across from Krell speaks.
“Masters Shaak Ti, Kenobi, and Billaba, busy they are with other matters. Hear your report without them, we will.”
“That’s Grand Master Yoda? The head of the Jedi Council? The Jedi who leveled nearly one thousand battle droids by himself?”
“Very well,” Krell said. “The mission was a success. The planet Castell is now under Republic control and a treaty has been drafted for the mining resources that the planet possesses. They have also agreed to a Republic base being built there should we desire it.”
The Jedi to the left of Master Yoda shifts. “Yes, however this battle did take longer than expected. This has set our timeline for the entire system back.”
“I am aware, Master Windu.”
“And, many casualties your battalion has suffered,” Yoda said gravely.
“Yes,” Krell considered. “There were some… unforeseen circumstances that could not be avoided.”
“Liar.”
“Hmm. A new captain you have gained I see,” Yoda said as he gestured to Doc.
Doc stiffened, the fear he had before returning to him.
“Yes,” Krell said. “The previous captain was killed on this campaign.”
“Hmm.” Yoda brought his hand up to his chin as he looked over Doc. “Step forward Captain.”
Doc swallowed and stepped forward, his body never leaving attention as he stared directly in front of him.
All the eyes of the council were on him. He could feel them looking over him, taking in everything that they could see of his fear filled body.
“What is your name trooper?”
“My designation is CT-5770, sir,” he replied stiffly, not turning his eyes away from directly in front of him to look at the Jedi who had addressed him.
“Your name son,” came a different voice. It was soft and gentle, like the person it came from actually cared.
Doc faltered slightly, turning toward the voice to face the Kel-Dor Jedi. “It’s- It’s uhh, Doc, sir,” he said cautiously before turning back to attention.
“Please, at ease be Captain.”
Doc looked back at Krell and was met with a neutral face, giving him no indication to stay at attention. Looking back at Yoda, he awkwardly shuffled into a stiff parade rest.
“Captain Doc,”
Doc’s eyebrows shot up at the sound of his name being said by someone other than his brothers before he quickly forced them back down, hoping that none of the Jedi noticed. All of them did.
“Agree with Master Krell’s description of the battle, do you?”
“No.”
“Yes, sir,” he said without hesitation, his fear of disobeying Krell’s rules pulsing in the back of his mind.
The council hesitated for a moment, all of the members on it exchanging quick glances before looking back at Doc.
“I sense much fear in you Captain,” the Kel-Dor Jedi said lightly.
Doc sucked in a breath, trying to quiet his mind.
The Kel-Dor leans forward, pointing at Doc. “You mustn’t be afraid to tell us information that we may not be pleased to hear.”
“Yes,” Yoda says. “Tell us the truth you must, so that better prepared we can be for future battles.”
Doc swallows, looking between the three Jedi who look at him with questioning faces.
“I do not fear telling you the truth Master Jedi,” he lies as he looks at each member of the council.
“So then Captain, tell us,” Windu says. “Do you agree with Master Krell’s description of the battle?”
Doc hesitates for a moment, looking back at Krell and seeing hard eyes staring back at him. He takes a deep breath, turning his attention back toward Master Windu.
“Well… I…” He quickly looks down, before bringing his head back up high.
The members of the council lean forward, urging him to finish his thought.
“I do think that there were ways we could have avoided so many casualties had we tried… different strategies.”
The Jedi all look at each other, nodding. “Then discuss that with your general, you will,” Yoda says.
He looks at Krell, whose expression Doc cannot see. “A discussion with your new captain, you will have. Then reassess the information you give in reports, you will. A discussion with you, I will have at a later date. Talk about what you and your captain agreed on, we will.”
Krell’s voice cuts through the tight tension that has taken over the bridge as the deck officers take turns staring at the meeting. “Yes, master.”
“Very good.” Master Windu looks around at all of the Jedi, who give him a soft nod. “Your next assignment will be transmitted to you within a few days. In that time, you are to travel to Kamino to pick up your new troopers.”
“Understood.”
Windu nodded at Krell and then Doc. “May the Force be with you.”
One by one, the blue images of the Jedi faded out until only Yoda remained. “Much fear there is in you young one,” he said as he pointed at Doc. “Know not what it is you fear, but learn to control it, you must. Yes.”
Doc looks at the ground before looking back at Yoda, nodding his head. “I will try sir.”
“You will. Of that, certain I am.” He gives one final smile to Doc, and then his image disappears.
Doc steps back from the table and instantly spins around toward his general, frantically trying to apologize. “Sir, I am so sorry. I didn’t know that they would—”
Doc yelps as a huge arm hits him hard across the face, sending him tumbling backwards onto the ground. His helmet clatters as it hits the ground and is sent flying across the floor.
He can feel his left eye pulsing as blood rushes to the area that was hit. He looks up to see his general towering over him with rage filling his eyes and a snarl covering his face.
“Sir, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—”
“You will stand at attention when you speak to me clone!” Krell’s voice booms out across the silent bridge.
Every pair of eyes stares at him in fear, while breath is held in anticipation.
Doc begins pushing himself off of the floor, sucking in a sharp breath. “Yes, sir,” he says meekly.
He comes back to attention, looking up at the furious Jedi, before Krell’s left arm comes up to backhand Doc once again, sending him to the floor.
“How dare you embarrass me in front of the council!”
Doc begins standing up once again, trying to come to attention. “I’m sorry sir! I didn’t mean to—”
He feels Krell’s fist on his face again before he can fully get up and is sent to the floor once again.
“Consider this a warning clone,” Krell says, his voice a menacing growl. “You will learn your place. Understood?”
Doc brings his hand to his lip as he slowly gets up. He pulls it away to see blood on his glove before pulling his hand down to come to attention. He looks up at Krell defiantly, his left eye already beginning to swell and obstruct his vision. “Yes, sir.”
Krell looks around at the troopers on the bridge that have been staring at them with wide eyes. “Understood?”
As quick as lightning, they all snap to attention before saying in unison, “Sir, yes sir!”
With that, Krell turned and began storming out of the bridge, stopping just before he got to the door. He turned around walking back up to Doc and getting in his space. “I still expect those reports to be filled out on time, Captain.”
“Of course, sir,” Doc says, keeping his voice level.
He watches Krell leave before looking around at the shocked and terrified faces of his brothers. He sighs, bringing his hand back up to his bleeding lip. “It’s alright,” he says softly, trying to comfort them. “Everyone just try to get back to your work so that this day might end a bit better than it began.”
He looks around, seeing all of the fear on his brothers faces as they silently turn back to their duties. None of them are much older than him. Maybe three of the men he can see are the same age as him, but the rest are all younger.
He sighs, trying not to think about how terrified they must be. He needs to be strong for them like his brothers were for him when he first began the never-ending nightmare of serving in the 904th.
“Lieutenant,” he says.
“Yes, sir?”
“I am going to go to the med bay. Could you have someone go to the captain’s quarters and bring the data pad here? I am going to work on the bridge once I am done.”
“Of course, sir.”
Doc gives a small smile. “Thank you.” He lowers his voice. “Have someone notify me once the General has returned to his quarters for the night cycle. Once it has been cleared with me, begin phase one of the geode protocol. Can you do that?”
The lieutenant pulls back, his eyes lighting up slightly at the mention of the secret order. “Of course, sir.”
Doc puts his hand on the trooper’s shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. “Thank you.” He began to walk out of the bridge, stopping to turn back toward the lieutenant. “Comm me if anything is needed. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
With that, Doc began his walk toward the medbay, his lip dripping blood onto his plain white armor the entire time.
#my oc#clone trooper oc#clone trooper doc#CT-5770#pong krell#the dirty mother fucker#my writing#the duty of a captain#death mention tw#blood tw#abuse tw
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