#“lets see how far they can fly on borrowed wings.”

[mig-murgthenurg]

Who would win?

Raven.

A ruthless mercenary, skilled enough to solo an entire Spaceport of MCs and other ACs, demonstrating what makes them a feared and high priority target amongst the PCA.

Or...

A brain-fried nobody who just found a chainsaw in the trash an hour ago.

[taikonaut-songhai]

This game is fuckin RAW man

[pakmanjosh]

"Let's see how far they can fly, on borrowed wings."

[ashinaisshin]

見せてもらいましょう…借り物の翼で、どこまで飛べるか。 Let's see how far they can fly... on borrowed wings. ARMORED CORE VI: FIRES OF RUBICON (2023), dir. Masaru Yamamura

[hugsandchaos]

Okay, I know I said that Danny + dark crystal = Eldritch Danny reflex transformation, but this is separate from that. Let’s take a quick step back for a quick second, because I thought this was a good idea.

Danny accidentally touches Twilight’s dark crystal, or maybe he does it on purpose not realizing that’s the thing turning him into a wolf, and becomes a giant space bird. He could either be a raven, crow, or magpie, and here’s the explanation!

Raven or Crow: Ravens and crows are known as symbols of death or something like that, so that would be a reference to his status as a halfa. His dark wings would be perfect for glowing spots or swirls of colors like stars and distant galaxies on a clear night, and they wouldn’t really affect his hair color once he’s back to normal since the feathers are dark. Unless you want to add a few small random spots of white that eventually fade back to black.

This form would also have a ghost form, which looks pretty ethereal. The “living” form has dark feathers, eyes glowing like you took the moon, duplicated it, and put it in his eye sockets with a hint of blue, and several glowing white spots on the under-view of his wings. The ghost form has white feathers, eyes so dark that it looks as if light itself can’t escape it and somehow with a hint of green, and the white spots have turned black.

Magpie: I just noticed that when Danny had bird features in a lot of fan AUs, they’re usually magpie features, which I think is pretty cool! I mean, you can just switch the colors of the feathers when you go from “living” to “ghost”, and you get the best of white and black feathers in both forms! With this one, Danny could have a few stripes of pure white in his hair when he changes back, but his entire hair color doesn’t change like Legend’s did because his feathers were both black and white.

Both ideas could have a few of the same things. Here’s a list of them!

•White spots and streaks in the black feathers to resemble stars and comets, the patterns switching colors depending on which form Danny’s in.

•Under-view of the wings reflects the night sky, even during the day. Looks really odd in ghost form, though.

• ⬆️ Both ideas are for two reasons; To symbolize Danny’s obsession of space and blending in during night flights.

•While in his living form, Danny flies just like a bird. A giant bird, but still a bird, which is a bit of trial and error given how he used to fly. While in ghost form, his core does most of the work, but he can still use his wings to push himself even further.

•Living form eyes glow like the moon, ghost form eyes are dark like black holes.

•Eyes stay the same color? Blue in living, green in ghost.

•Danny is able to mimic sounds and voices just like a crow/raven/magpie. He has fun with it.

•Giant space bird form is 25 feet tall.

Scenarios with Corvid Danny!

•Twilight tries to calm Danny down, but after looking over himself and moving around a little, Danny actually gets excited and starts showing Twilight his new space wings. Danny will want to go back to normal sooner or later, but for now, he wants to stay in this form for a bit. Still, he knows the crystal belongs to Twilight, so he asks him if he can stay in the form for “a bit” to enjoy being a giant space corvid. Twilight was a little confused by Danny’s enthusiasm, but he agreed.

•Explaining it to the group. Twilight explains that the giant space bird is Danny, and when Sky offers to turn him back, Danny refuses and explains again that he wants to see what this form can do first. And then he shows off his space wings, because that’s his favorite part about the whole situation. He has no idea why his form is a giant space bird, but he’s not complaining! Twilight says that he’s letting Danny borrow the crystal for a bit, but there’s obviously going to be a few rules.

•Danny’s not allowed to go near civilization, he’s to avoid travelers, no flying too far, no fighting until he gets used to this form to avoid mishaps, and no jumping off cliffs to practice flying! Get down from there, space nerd!

•Danny carries them and lets them mess with his feathers as long as they don’t pull. I think Sky is most likely to ride on Danny’s back for fun and anyone can climb up onto his head to get a vantage point of the area, but who’s the first to actually ask? Danny suggested it, actually! He wanted the others to see the view he did and lowered his head, then told them to climb on. Then his lifted his head back up, slowly so he wouldn’t drop them, and let them watch the view with him.

•It’s snowing. The group can’t find shelter to get the fire started and they’re tired. Corvid Danny uses his wings to make a tent for them! His wings are really big to support his weight and size, so it worked! Oh, and don’t worry! The temperature wasn’t actually bad for Danny. 1; He has feathers. 2; He’s used to these temperatures and lower. 3; His ghost half.

•Danny practicing flying whenever he gets the chance. He picks up on it pretty quickly! Half of it is from closely watching normal ravens/crows/magpies flying and copying them, and the other half is trial and error.

•Normal corvids flock to Space Corvid Danny and talk to him. They think the strange, giant bird with wings like the night sky needs investigation, and they ultimately decide that he’s friend material!

•Space Corvid Danny copying all sorts of sounds and even the group’s voices. He thinks it’s really funny, and he’s right! The group asks him to copy certain things, sometimes to make fun of each other, and it’s great.

•Space Corvid Danny VS Big Flying Monster!!!

•Space Corvid Danny talking with Twilight about how much he loves learning to see the world in this new perspective.

•The Links spotting or even making constellations in his wings. He gets really hyped up about it, and if they’re making up new constellations, they’re now obligated to make up stories based off it with him!

•The others got “animal habits” or something from their forms, and so does Danny! What are these habits? Let’s brainstorm! Definitely developing a fondness for shiny things, but his space obsession urges him to organize it into a constellation or some other space related art project… That’s all I can think of. 🙁

•Space Corvid Danny going ghost would be pretty interesting! The night sky patterns being inverted would be quite the otherworldly sight!

•He 100% gets Wild to take a few pictures with his phone.

•Danny either going to Twilight and Sky and says he’s had his fun and is ready to turn back, or he’s asked for it back and he agrees. Then he hugs Twilight and thanks him for letting him have such a fun opportunity. Twilight thought it was interesting that Danny didn’t freak out and immediately search for a way to change back, but rather want to explore this new perspective.

•As I’ve said, if it’s a magpie, Danny could have a few stripes of pure white in his hair when he changes back, but his entire hair color doesn’t change like Legend’s did because his feathers were both black and white.

•He might get the chance to be Space Corvid Danny again someday. Who knows?

Little bonus bit!

•Sam and Tucker think that Danny’s Space Corvid form is pretty neat and ask if he can still become a ghost, and he happily shows off! They climb on him, go for a flight, mess around with mimicking sounds, and overall have a great time together. Some of the Links think it’s sweet.

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

Hey Slug! Now that all snippets are out, what are your thoughts so far on the BB songs for the 3rd DRB? I'm especially excited for Ichiro's. It reminds me of Hiphoppia but with less intense dream vision feel and more funky back alley hip hop stuff. Jiro's sounds good too tho!

I love anon asks like this that remind me to go look at the new stuff that comes out... I would never think to do it otherwise. Thank you; it's very sweet of you.

Let's fire up the old YouTube and give them a listen.

Ichirou -- H歴維新 / The H Age Revolution

(Side note about the title: I'm using "revolution" here in a general sense, but this specific wording is evocative of the Meiji Restoration, the political revolution in the late 1800s that ended the regime of the Tokugawa shoguns and "restored" the old social order under the emperor while radically transforming Japanese society as a whole. Here, we should understand that Ichirou is tearing down Chuuouku's reign to usher in a new state of society.)

(Fifteen seconds in) YOOO this goes hard. I like this beat and the vaguely military-esque theme w/ the horns.

(At end of preview) DAMN okay. Give me a sec to get my thoughts in order.

Every time I see the language in these songs, I'm reminded of a video of an NHK presenter guy reading the lyrics of one song and announcing dryly, "They're all very good at kanji."

I love how this is much punchier than Break the Wall. Ichirou seems to be much more of an active agent in it, not just the figurehead leader of a revolution--and I LOVE that. It's great to see Ichirou embracing his individuality and not simply playing into the image of MC BB that others want him to be.

I also love all the callbacks to previous songs, quite literally going back to basics. ペンは剣より偽りがない ("The pen is mightier than the sword, and that's a fact!") goes all the way back to Hypmic's very first song's ペンは剣よりヒプノシスマイク ("The Hypnosis Mic is mightier than the sword")

Can't wait to get the full version and learn the lyrics. Seems like a hella fun song to rap.

Jirou -- Sunshine

(Five seconds in) Getting "This Means War" vibes.

(Fifteen seconds in) Bro what is this autotune... This sounds like the opening of Rhyme Anima season 2.

(Forty-five seconds in) "I'm ready; the wind's pushing me along; I'm flying with the wings Ikebukuro's given me" Hell YES Jirou you get that identity independent of Ichirou

(Fifty seconds in) "I can't shake the past. I take my scars with me off into a future--a future that's still unknown." Yo this is bars. (I'm butchering its lyricism but whatever) I love that Jirou is actually acknowledging his past and his struggles instead of pushing it away. You notice how his comments on the past are always either "Ichirou was so cool" or "Saburou used to be such a cute kid; what happened?" ? It's good to see him finally being honest enough to touch on his hurt feelings.

(End) Hmm... I don't know how I feel about this one at first liston. I really like Jirou's voice actor's singing voice, so I'm kinda not feeling the autotune. On the other hand, his singing voice definitely has more of a sweet/young flavor, and I can see the authors wanting to lean away from that to make him sound more adult. I think my issue is this song sounds... idk, a bit too idol pop rock to my tastes. I don't mean that idol pop rock is a bad thing; it's simply not my personal preference.

Here's a selection of people in the comments having a normal one:

"Wtf he's hot now"

"I'm picturing Jirou going to school the day after this song drops and his friends being like 'EYYY' and he's like 'Aw, you listened to it? Thanks, guys!' Then a bunch of girls swarm him and he deadass has no idea what they're on about it"

"Say it isn't so... Not my sweet baby boy dumbass Jirou... They made him hot af..."

"I feel like a mom watching my widdle Jiro-chan grow up"

Saburou -- 朱夏 / Maturity

(Side note about the title: Japanese borrows some terms for stages of life from ye olde Chinese (<- very technical term) wherein stages of life correspond to colors and seasons. You may know the word "seishun" (blue spring) or have seen blue = youth as a recurring piece of imagery in Japanese media. (BSD's Blue Period, anyone?) "Shuka" (red summer) is the stage that encompasses most of adulthood; it's the summer or prime of a person's life. The word conveys a sense of energy and a greater understanding of the world than in the youthful seishun period. Sounds like the Hypmic authors want to convey that our baby boy is growing up! *sobs into a hankie*)

(Five seconds in) Chill lofi hip-hop beats for studying

(End) Hmm... Musically, I liked the piano as a consistent piece of imagery for Saburou. It was a little too chill for me, but I always say this and always warm up to Hypmic songs over time lol.

Lyrically, I kept thinking throughout the video "This would be easy to translate" because Saburou monologues for most of it haha. Apart from the imagery related to seasons and the BB's heat/energy "firing" him up to reach the hot summer of adulthood, most of the song is surprisingly literal and straightforward. Saburou states in plain terms that he wants to go be his own person (seems to be the running theme of this album), but it's a departure from his usual style of complex imagery and vocabulary. I would guess that's on purpose, as the song opens with "All through my childhood, I could never wait to grow up. I'm a better rapper than Ichirou, but no one ever sees me as anything but an accessory to him. At least I'm better than Jirou in every way-- oh, who am I kidding? Look at me going on like an edgy middle schooler. I'm always smart, collected, calm--but on the inside, I'm NOT okay!" That is, Saburou is purposefully throwing away his attempts to look smart and mature for his age. He's allowing himself to be rough and emotional like any fourteen year old.

Really fun start to an album; can't wait to hear all the songs! Thanks again for sending this ask, anon.

[deep--dive]

[ RAVEN'S HANDLER ] : I've identified the target. That's the mercenary who took your name. Let's see how far they can fly... on borrowed wings.

from ARMORED CORE VI: FIRES OF RUBICON (2023)

[5hrine]

Borrowed Wings

C/Ws: NSFW

You fly so far on borrowed wings.

I have found many things which live drifting within me, but none so beautiful as you. None who examine me so closely, who have deemed me worth more than just passing through. I know, now, what it is to be admired rather than only seen, and more, what it is to be understood, pursued. I feel the trace of photons from your sensors, like fingers upon my skin. I did not know the concept of “love” before your touch, before the heat of your engines, before seeing the way you float within me and learning who you really are.

You have taught me so many of your words through pulses of light, always so… frustratingly brief. It took me some time to find the pattern of your language in the bursts. It was only when a copper-rich part of me felt the vibrations that I began to understand, that you speak with sound. I have learned your word for my kind - nebula. I like this name. The way it courses through me, a resonant hum, quiet but undeniably present.

You call my children stars. They like this name, too.

You have spent so long and so much examining me, probing me, trying to learn of me, why must I be kept from returning the favor? I wish so terribly to thread my gaseous form between the plates of your hull, into your life support system, past your farms of algae, to find the soft truth of you inside. I would navigate the space between the teeth of your zippers, the hook-and-loop of your outer shell, just so that I could touch you as you have me. Many dozens of particulate-fingers tracing along your every pore, cold and hot all at once, painting your visor in my brilliant colors.

Would you breathe of me, if I asked you? Would you let me that deep inside? How would I taste to you, I wonder? Would you like the effervescence of me on your tongue? Would you let me strip off your shell, to let me see you wholly, so that I can mimic your shape, arms and legs and fingers and hips of stardust, ready for you to touch, ready to touch you, to feel you, to know you.

I stall your engines to let you drift in my currents. I intertwine my newfound fingers with your own and lead you to your observation deck. I show you beautiful vistas of me, where my brilliance stains space. I help you to avoid my most dangerous places, where the radiation or gravity would hurt you. I bring your hand to my breast, my back arching at your touch. Showing you, intimately, where stars are born. Pressing my lips to your hair, stroking it gently as your lips do their work.

I would let you glimpse the surviving climax of my supernova.

I would trace my fingers over your neck, your cheek, your ears.

I would help you understand that yes, I am space dust. Yes, I am the crucible of stars. Yes, I am alive.

[seldomscilence16]

Whumptober day 30:

"It's okay just to say 'I'm not okay'."

Borrowed Clothing | Bridal Carry | "Not much Longer…."

Fandom: Bat Family

Prompts used: All

Ive been reading dpxdc but am not confident yet, so heres some OOC Bats, based mostly on Wayne Family Adventures, tried angsting some new people for once! I have only read Duke in WFA so hes probably the most OOC forgive me. But let me know, Id love to hear from ya'll on any of my posts :)

TW for blood and injuries, near death experiences

…

"I am never letting you talk me into this again."

Tim glares at the far wall, hanging by his feet, arms tied to his chest. He's in civvies, and his brothers WILL owe him a new outfit after this.

"Oh come on, you were the perfect bait!" Jason's voice comes through the comm, barely holding back his snickers.

"Hush Little-Wing. I'll take you to your favorite coffee place- at a reasonable time- to make up for it BabyBird." Dicks voice is far more sympathetic and even tinged with the anxiety that comes with seeing his brothers in harm's way.

"Then Jay owes me a new outfit." He murmurs a tad petulantly.

"TT, I still think we should have snuck in instead of this, convoluted, plan."

"That would have been fine if we had known where they were located, hence this plan." Duke yawns as he finishes his sentence, pulling a double shift for this case.

"Next time, someone else can be the hostage." Tim grumbles as a headache grows with all the blood rushing to it.

"Whatever you say Timmy." Jason placates mockingly.

"Is anyone else concerned about how long they've left Red Robin alone?" Barbara's exasperated voice comes through the comms, bringing everyone back.

"The lack of blood in my legs should definitely be considered." Tim comments, swinging slightly to try and look around.

"Well, it looks like everyone is-"

"Leaving the building!" Duke cuts Dick off, Jason curses,

"Looks like we got some rats to catch!" He calls, leaping from his hiding spot before the others could react.

"Hang in there Tim, we'll be back!"

"I regret my existence."

"TT is that all?" Damian is a millisecond behind Jason, Dick and Duke give each other an eye roll of comradery, before they are following.

They put up a fight. Seemingly desperate to escape- though it's not super odd- they seem more scared of not being able to leave than of the Bats themselves.

"Not much longer…" The anxious mutter comes from the goon closest to Signal.

He’s quick to pin him, nerves flying in his gut, telling him that they were missing something important.

“Until what?” He pulls his best Batman voice, tired gravel helping him hopefully.

Pinned against the building, Signal doesn’t really need an answer from the goon, the light gives him a glimpse of exactly what he needs to know, but the answer comes anyway,

“B-bomb...”

“Guys, we’ve got a situation! I’m going in for T- the hostage!” Duke catches himself throwing the guy to the nearest Bat, “Find the bomb!” He dashes into the building.

“A bomb?” Tims voice groans, “I am owed several coffees, thank you.”

“Maybe focus on not blowing up first?” Duke's voice is strained, not yet so nonchalant with these types of threats.

“The goons are ready for transport, we’re headed to the device, just stay calm Duke.” Dicks voice is level, and Duke takes a breath to match it.

Tim is partway untied, having been working on it since he’d been hooked, his face is flushed but he gives a lopsided grin- likely to comfort Duke.

“Signal, my man, come to hang out?”

“Har har, let's get you down.”

He steadies him as his feet touch the ground, head spinning and body reorienting, they haven’t even taken a step yet when the whole building shakes, rickety floors and creaky walls groaning with the effort.

“Uh, guys?” Duke cautions, worry skyrocketing again.

“Time to move!”

Duke doesn't need to be told twice, he scoops Tim into his arms with a grunt and finds himself sprinting once more.

“Blushing bride was not on my list.” He mumbles, hand holding his head as the other tires to keep him stable.

“Don't worry, sure it doesn't count when the blood had no other option.”

“You’d be surprised.”

The floor is crumbling as another tremor wracks the old bones of the place. He makes the decision to find the nearest window, taking the Bat route out, and sending a prayer to whoever listened that they all made it out.

“You’re ok… ‘s good…” Blood is a second skin, Jason's jacket torn to shreds as glass and wood alike protrude from his body.

“Todd.. you're…” Damian looks up at the unhooded vigilante, minor damage to himself as he see the crushing weight his brother keeps off him.

“Relax kid… Won't die frem the same ting twice.”

“Jay! Damian!” Dick coughs, the bloody hero shoving at the beams across Jays back until the two can get free. “Are you guys okay?”

“S’fine, lets get baby brat outta here.” The slur comes and goes from his tone, whether from a given effort or otherwise they can't tell. Shifting nearby has them tensing, before a light shines at them,

“Oh thank the Gods.” Duke is dusty but unharmed, moving debris ever so carefully to give them a path out.

“M’place s’closest.” Jason murmurs, leaning heavily on Damian who hadnt moved from his side.

“I can not carry you Todd, stay awake.” The youngest mutters despite his stance.

“M-“

“It's okay just to say ‘I’m not okay’.” Duke interrupts quickly, taking the lead as Dick takes the rear.

“...could be better.” He concedes.

“You are not this much bigger than me. How?” Tim swims in the borrowed shirt and sweats, as does Damian, but neither seems keen to take them off either as they plop onto Jason's couch.

In the kitchen, Duke, Jason and Dick patch each other up carefully, channeling Alfred as best they can until they decide the trip is worth it. Jason grits his teeth as another stitch pierces his skin, Dick muttering a thousand quiet apologies in several languages. Duke keeps his eyes on his own job, if for nothing else than to keep from cringing and hurting Dick.

“We’re bringing the girls next time. This never happens when they're around.” Tim grumbles, ice pack on his face.

“I beg to differ.” Dick mutters.

“Is night shift always like this?” Duke ties off his last bandage and goes about cleaning up.

“Meh.” He gets several, so so hand gestures and a tutt and groans to himself.

“We’re alive, goons apprehended, I'm calling it a win.”

[uraniumdaydreams]

LET'S SEE HOW FAR THEY CAN FLY, ON BORROWED WINGS

I've never played Armored Core but the new gameplay trailer looks fuckin sick

[upward-stair]

"Let's see how far they can fly... on borrowed wings"

[allithealigator]

Camp Half Blood an Alternate Universe

Chapter 5: Aliya

I fell asleep so quickly and so eager for the Capture the Flag game tomorrow. I woke up to Sophia’s ugly face staring at me. 

“What are you doing staring at me?” I asked 

“Because I can and we gotta go eat breakfast,” she said. “Come on. Elena and some friends I made are already down there.”

“Wow, you made friends?”

“Yup.”

Groggily, I got up and changed out of my pajamas. I had found a Camp Half-Blood shirt on my bed so I put it on after Sophia left because I’m not about to change in front of my best friend.

After I changed I met Sophia and Elena down at the pavilion. I just followed the campers that were coming out of their cabins because I didn’t know how to get there.

I found Elena at our table and sat down next to her. It was kind of depressing that we had to sit at our tables, but I found it strange that Annabeth and some Hermes kids were sitting with Percy and Sophia at the Poseidon table. I sadly glanced at them. Sophia seemed to notice and patted the seat next to her. 

I went to Sophia’s table, which was very far away from mine, and brought/dragged  Elena with me. We sat down at the table and then a plate appeared in front of me. I looked at it, confused. 

“You have to say what you want,” Sophia explained. 

“Oh.” I looked at my plate. “Eggs and pancakes.”

Eggs and pancakes appeared on my plate. I noticed that the ambient sound of clinking utensils in the background was somewhat calming.

“Who’s this?” I asked, gesturing to the Hermes kid.

“That’s Lukas.” 

“Oh.” I looked back at my food and started to eat.

“Demigods, I have an announcement to make–first, we have three new half-bloods, two have been claimed, but one is still unclaimed,” Chiron announced. “Can everyone welcome Sophia, the daughter of Poseidon, Elena, the daughter of Koalemos, and Aliya, who has not been claimed yet? In other news, the Capture the Flag game will be tonight.”  

After Chiron announced that there were new half-bloods, everyone’s heads turned to us. Even after the long announcement, people were still looking at us. I took this chance to look at everyone's faces. I saw Nico and his boyfriend looking in my direction. Everyone started to leave the pavilion and do their daily stuff. 

Percy and Annabeth dragged us away and gave us our first official tour. We viewed the climbing wall, amphitheater, labyrinth, Zeus’s fist, Woods, The Pegasus stables, forge, arena, cabins, Volleyball court,  the strawberry fields, where the Demeter kids were growing strawberries, and the lake. 

When we got to the lake, Elena thought it would be a good idea to push Sophia into the lake to see if she would float. In the end, she stayed in the lake and started breathing underwater. After the tour, Percy took us to the Pegasus stables to teach us how to ride while Annabeth went to do Athena cabin things. Elena got on a pegasus and then it bucked her off. 

“I guess pegasus riding isn’t your thing,” Percy had said. 

Sophia stroked the winged horse’s face and started to talk to it. She mounted the black pegasus like a queen and took off. 

I successfully got on the winged horse despite not knowing anything about horses. Soon I was up in the air and flying next to Sophia.  

“What’s your horse’s name?” Sophia asked me.

“Her name is Jalisa,” I said. 

“Cool. “

Then Percy appeared next to us. “I forgot I let you take my horse, so I had to borrow another.”

“Wheeee!” Sophia yelled as Blackjack folded his wings and went into a dive. Jalisa followed, and Percy’s horse brought up the rear. 

“He wants a donut!” Sophia shouted over the wind. 

“He always wants a donut!” Percy shouted back.

I seriously thought Jalisa was falling at first. And then I realized that we were just going to land. I saw Nico and his boyfriend Will and fangirled a bit (What? I ship Solangelo) standing next to Elena so I decided to land next to them. Once I landed Elena gave me a look of disgust.

“What?” I asked 

“You figured out how to ride a pony,” she said grumpily.

“Is that a problem?”

“Um? Yeah! It’s a huge problem because now you're better than me at something.”

I smirked. “I’m kinda better than you at everything.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah-huh.”

Sophia landed next to my horse. 

“There we go, they’re fighting again.” Sophia rolled her eyes. Will walked over to us.

“Hey, you guys who want to practice archery?”

Sophia went pale. “Uh . . .” she glanced at Percy. He was shaking his head, eyes wide. 

“I’ll do it!” she yelled. “It’s worth a try, anyway.”

“I wanna join too, to prove that I’m better than Aliya at archery,” said Elena.

“I’m gonna come to show Elena that I’m better than her at this too,” I said. We all walked to the archery range to try.  

I took a bow and an arrow from the small basket of bows sitting on the floor next to me. 

“Let me show you,” Will said from behind me. I hadn’t noticed he came with us. I held the bow up and Will stepped behind me and positioned my arms. 

“Just like that,” he said, and I swear tingles shot down my arm. I saw Nico sitting in the stands smiling. Elena also had a bow and aimed at the target. Will counted down from three so we could all get ready.  

“Three….. Two…….. One… Shoot!”

We both shot the arrow. Mine had hit the target smack in the center, while Elena’s was right on the edge of the target. I heard clapping coming from the stands and saw Nico, Sophia, Percy, and Will clapping their hands and cheering. 

The next activity was close combat. Elena picked up a small dagger and waited for Sophia to pick something to fight with. Elena lunged at Sophia, and in summary, it was a brutal fight and I knew I had to break it up. 

I remembered Elena said that she would prove she was good at close combat. But I wouldn’t let her prove herself if it meant hurting someone. I stepped forward and took out my box knife, and slowly it turned into a black sword with a half-moon, half-sun design on the hilt. I still wasn’t used to the transformation of it, but I liked its design.

I stepped up to Elena and Sophia. I stood with my back to Sophia and was facing Elena, pointing my sword at her. 

“Stop,” I said calmly.

“I need to prove I’m better than someone at something!” Elena protested.

“That doesn’t mean you should hurt them.”

“Yeah, I agree with Aliya,” Sophia added.

“Shut up, Sophia!” She backed off after we said that.

Suddenly we heard someone shout, “Hey, Percy! Annabeth!”

Percy and Annabeth’s heads turned to find the voice.

“Is that . . . Leo Valdez?” Sophia whispered in my ear, her eyes widening like saucers.

“Yeah, of course, it is, dummy,” I answered her.

“He’s cute,” she whispered in my ear.

“He’s taken,” I said bluntly.

“I know.”

[warmau]

☆ [nostalgic] summer romance!au renjun happy super super super late birthday renjun! find others here: johnny | haechan | taeil | taeyong | mark | jaemin | yangyang | yuta | sicheng | chenle | kun | yukhei | doyoung | jaehyun | jungwoo | ten | jisung

"i don't even like bugs."

jaemin shrugs as he shows his intern pass to the security of the front gates of the botanical garden

he mentions that you're accompanying him today as a visitor and you smile at the guard who pays you two half a gaze

"well i mean - they're butterflies not like cockroaches or anything so have some optimism?"

you don't argue, among your group of friends jaemin is kind of the symbol of optimism. sometimes it's misguided - like now - but you don't want to put a damper on his mood

after all, he's actually here to do a job

you are here on a summer assignment you have to complete for a photography elective you added to your uni program for the next semester

"nature photography" was the highlight of the project, everyone had been emailed a subject to take pictures of while off from school

you had expected maybe the beach, or flowers, or even tourists walking around in floppy hats

when you'd opened the professor's email and saw "butterflies" you had not been thrilled

but you were lucky enough to know that jaemin had scored his current internship at the botanical gardens, and while he was working with his weirdly favorite thing in the world - fungi

he could also get you access to the butterfly garden, a large indoor space for the various breeds of butterflies from around the world, before it officially opened to the public

"the pavilion is over there, i think renjun will be able to let you in."

jaemin says, pointing down a hill lined by pretty bushes that leads to a glass structure at the bottom

you turn to ask if he wants to meet for lunch, but he's already jogging in the opposite direction

you sigh, fishing your camera out of your bag - which is something you've borrowed from your parents because 'iphone photos are not allowed'

they're just butterflies like jaemin said, they're like...cute bugs.

you tell yourself as you get closer, turning the camera on and then coming to a pause in front of the glass doors that have a clear padlock on them

you loop around and try to find 'renjun' - but no one is in sight

secretly a little relieved that you don't have to go inside right away, you try to find a part of the glass structure where you can possibly get a nice shot of some of the butterflies from outside

a lot of the vines and flowers get in the way, so you struggle until finally, you find a spot that's open and peers right into the middle of the enclosed garden

you can see the butterflies, little splashes of colors that fly past you - magnificent oranges, reds, and blues

you admit they're pretty

but they're even prettier because they're not near you

and then something - no someone - comes into your frame

his narrow shoulders are engulfed by an oversized plaid shirt, sleeves rolled up by the elbows.

over the shirt is a gardening apron and on his hands are a pair of worn-out gloves

his profile is hidden by the dark hair that falls in a curtain and ends in a tickle at his jawline.

one, bright streak of bleach blonde runs through the black.

he reaches out to touch a half-bloomed flower and you watch as the butterflies float on by him

you nearly drop the camera when he turns and locks his gaze with your own

is that renjun? if so im going to kill jaemin! he didn't tell me he was so infuriatingly pretty!

without knowing how to talk to him through the glass, and because the words disintegrate in your mouth, you point to the camera

"jaemin's friend?"

oh, you can hear through the glass

"ye-yeah!"

"one second."

the sound of a click and some scuttling turns your attention toward where the door to the garden opens for a swift second, just enough for renjun to step through, before it closes again

probably to make sure none of the butterflies get out

you grip your camera and when renjun doesn't move, you make the small trip over to him

"jaemin said you're here for a project."

renjun speaks and his voice is softer when it isn't muffled through glass

"for my photography class in the fall, my subject is butterflies."

"what kind?"

your eyes get a little wider with confusion

"what kind?" you parrot

renjun's neutral expression doesn't change

"what kind of butterflies? there are over seventeen thousand species of butterflies - we might not have the species you are looking for."

"i-" you stammer, wondering for a split second if renjun is joking around, "there isn't a specific species it's just....all of them?"

renjun tilts his head as if that notion doesn't really make sense to him, but shrugs and turns toward the door again

"im going to open it quickly so just follow me."

you make a sound of agreement, but when renjun pulls the handle and steps inside.....and you can't move.

the door closes behind him with a sound that makes you jump and renjun turns to stare at you through the glass with a furrowed brow

"what are you doing?"

he doesn't bother opening the door again and you shake your head as a shiver runs through your shoulders

"a-actually is it ok if i stay out here?"

"i thought you needed to take photos?"

"i can take them from here - this lens is r-really good."

renjun doesn't seem to be buying your excuse, but he checks his watch and nods, before disappearing back into the middle of the indoor garden

you take a second to try and figure out what happened - am i scared of going inside? is it the butterflies or is it renjun?

you decide it's the butterflies.

renjun's just a boy - you aren't scared of that, but the thought of being somewhere covered with bugs

pretty bugs or not

is kind of ..... scary.

you pick your camera back up and circle back to your original spot

although renjun is nowhere in the focus, you are delighted to see some butterflies have come to nestle among the plants in view

you bring up the camera and take some shots

one butterfly is sitting directly on the leaves - big grayish, blue wings spread open and engulfed in the sunlight that shines through the glass

you zoom in on it, capturing the full expanse of the wings that stand out on the green

you get so invested you hardly notice the door open up again and then a voice speaks from behind your shoulder

"it's a pseudozizeeria maha."

you don't turn around and just stare at the butterfly still

"a wha- what?"

"a pale grass blue. they're native to south asia but are really common here too. they were first discovered by vincenz kollar, an austrian entomologist."

the sentence nearly makes you dizzy, but you thank renjun for the information

not seeing the small shy smile that casts over his lips when you do

you want to turn and show him the shot you took, but he's already stepping past you to the other side of the pavilion

the time sort of slips away from you before you can check it again and you only leave when jaemin comes jogging down from the greenery to whisk you off for lunch

"should we invite ren-"

you start, but jaemin is already twinkling eyes and nonstop talking about all the fun fungi he's spent his day with.

when you're back home you start to look through the photos you took

most of them aren't super great and the shine of the sun reflects on the glass

you know the only way you're going to get a perfect shot (or at least an acceptable one for this dumb summer project) is if you go inside the actual butterfly garden

sighing, you click to the last shot and are surprised to see that in the far left corner you see renjun's hand - gloved and in the palm of it is a small butterfly that has landed just in time for your shutter to go off

the rest of renjun is out of focus so you can't even see his, very pretty, face

isn't it weird, that he can be around them so easily and im so scared?

you zoom in a bit and wonder how nice it would have been to get a clear photo of the moment. that would be something you could definitely submit to your professor.

before any more thoughts of renjun can float through your mind, your phone pings and you look to see jaemin's contact name

did you get your shot? you can come with me on my next shift if you want to take more photos

you type back a reply before you can even think of it in your head

really? then I'll tag along :) want to take some more photos

jaemin confirms and then sends another paragraph talking about mushrooms and leaves and plants

and you giggle because he's funny and passionate, and also

guess i might see renjun again?

it's hotter than you can put into words the next time you show up at the butterfly garden

you're standing outside in the absolute sweltering heat and maybe the thought of possible colder temperatures inside the pavilion are tempting

plus - renjun is in there - he had waved at you when he saw you standing outside again

this time his apron thrown over a short sleeve shirt and some long jeans

he had motioned toward the door but you had just played off that you were ok outside. burning alive or whatever.

you found the same spot as before, wiping the sweat from your forehead before lifting the camera up in hopes of catching a good picture

but all you see through the lens was renjun, who'd taken the time to roll up the sleeves of his shirt and had seemingly abandoned the heavy apron somewhere inside

his longer hair had been clipped back and he was reaching down to heave a bag of soil up and over his shoulder

oh my god. oh my god. oh my god.

you are caught between taking a photo and just aiming your lens somewhere else out of embarrassment

either way, renjun doesn't seem to notice and continues working, saving you from the horror that would be seeing him turn and stare back at you

but this somehow goes on for the entire time you're there

you go to snap a photo, but renjun is somewhere in the frame

it must just be bad luck and timing

but by the time you're sitting at the garden's cafe with jaemin after his shift and you're going through your photos

all of them have renjun in them somehow

"woah i thought your project was butterflies not huang renjun's?"

jaemin jokes, sipping his iced coffee with an overly excited wiggle of his eyebrows

"shuttup - i just....it's because i am taking them from the outside, i need to figure out a way to get inside and just take the photo and be done with it!"

jaemin outstretches his hand

"gimmie your camera, ill go take one"

you snatch the camera off the table and vehemently shake your head

"no. the last time i trusted you with something expensive, you broke it in the first five minutes."

"hey! i thought ipads were waterproof nowadays like technology really hasn't come that far?"

you roll your eyes in response, to which jaemin sticks out his tongue and then claps his hands together in revelation

"why not ask renjun to take the photo?"

"because i don't know him that we-"

with a dismissive wave of his hand jaemin cuts you off

"he's not a stranger - i know him! if i know him, you know him. plus renjun is super careful and responsible - he's my age and ive already heard some of the directors talking about how they'd hire him as more than an intern if he wasn't still in university!"

wow, i mean i always got the impression he was mature, but...

"c'mon, i bet he'll say yes too! he's really nice!"

finally agreeing and promising jaemin you'll ask renjun when you come back to the garden again

you pretend the nervous feeling in your stomach is just because you don't know renjun that well

not because you also happen to think he's breathtaking to look at - and that it's going to be hell trying to explain to someone who knows so much about insects that you're too scared to go inside and take a measly little photo of them

you find yourself at home, with your laptop open, googling species of butterflies because you think you should at least pick one and ask renjun if he can possibly take a photo of that one

maybe your effort will make the conversation easier

maybe he'll like that i know the latin name for a - what was it? gonepteryx cleopatra?

of course, the next time jaemin brings you along - and abandons you with a thumbs up for his mushrooms and fungi - you are frozen still at the entrance of the butterfly garden

like a broken machine - you just re-read the sign over and over again - announcing that the garden will be finally open to the public in a week

and you nearly short circuit when someone clears their throat behind you

turning around, it's of course renjun, and he's giving you a weird look that is already making this whole situation bad

"h-hey renjun-"

"do you want to go inside with me today?"

you swallow and think you should really just suck it up and go inside. the butterflies aren't going to sting, bite, or eat you - but

"a-actually i wanted to ask you does the garden have any.....any um....gonep- um whats the word gonepetry? gonepetri? um-"

without a beat renjun finishes the sentence for you

"gonepteryx cleopatra's? no, those butterflies favor the mediterranean so getting them here is hard."

"right...well actually i was wondering"

renjun blinks

"oh and you can call them cleopatra's if you want. but unfortunately no, i don't have any in the garden."

god ok, how do i pivot this conversation...

"oh that's cute, um actually i also have a question-"

he waits expectingly and for some odd reason as the second's tick by he gets cuter and you get quieter and it is just a huge mess

and you think you should just book it and let renjun think you're a weirdo

when you finally lift up your camera and take a breath

"do you think you could take the photo of a butterfly for me?"

his brown eyes widen

"oh - like the photo for your project?"

"y-yeah. it's just......im really scared to go in there...bugs are not my thing. i know it's pathetic and they're just butterflies but-"

you look down and the sun and renjun's gaze are getting too heavy to handle

"but i just don't know if i can even focus when there are so many flying around....does that make sense?"

the beat of silence that follows is almost miserable but renjun just points behind him and says

"follow me."

the next thing you know you are trying to keep up with him as he walks past the butterfly garden and down a path hugged by greenery

it's way past where you've ever been and you ask renjun where he's going

only for him to insist you hurry up a little bit

before you know it you are both standing in front of a large, open iron gate, and behind it are rows and rows and rows of rose bushes

they range in color and size and the smell that permeates the air is so lovely you suddenly feel like you're in a fairytale

renjun leans closely to inspect a couple and then stops in front of a bush adorned in the brightest pink roses you must have ever seen in your life

"butterflies are attracted to roses, the colors are vibrant and they pollinate them."

"b-butterflies pollinate? like bees?"

renjun laughs, the sound adds to the almost dreamy vibe - with the way it sounds like the lightest piano keys

"yes and look - i can understand that you'd be scared of being inside a place full of butterflies, but here in the rose garden there are only a couple here and there."

he squats down and cups the petals of a flower with such a gentleness

you follow and are surprised to see a butterfly, with bright blue wings, nestled in the center of the rose

renjun flicks his eyes to your camera bag and you immediately understand why he's brought you here

without making too much noise you get your camera out and steady the lens - just one butterfly does not intimidate you like being in a glass, enclosed pavillion full of hundreds

so you can take the photo easily - though just as you click the shutter makes a noise and the butterfly takes off

you pout and look up to see if renjun is startled by the sudden escape of the focus of your photograph

when you gasp and see that another butterfly, this one a bright orange has settled on the tip of renjun's nose

without missing the moment - you raise the camera

and snap another photo, not taking the time to adjust the zoom or anything

just wanting to capture the little miracle

the butterfly seems to recognize renjun's pretty face is not a flower, not that you fault the butterfly for thinking that it was

as it flaps its wings and goes in search of another rose

you brighten up when you look at the preview on your camera

no blur or sun glare! it's a perfect shot!

and you lean close to renjun to show him and he leans in too

and the centimeter distance only dawns on the two of you when you look up and renjun has already turned his attention on you two

a heat spreads up your face, as it does renjun's and you both pull back from the scalding feeling

"i-"

"sorry-"

shooting back up to your feet you kind of wobble in this moment of awkwardness and then renjun asks

"will you use that photo for your project?"

"oh - if you don't want me to i won't, i think i can use the other-"

"you can use it."

he rubs his arm and then locks his gaze back on you

"but does this mean you won't come back to the gardens anymore?"

i guess since my project is done, he's right. i don't have any excuse to come and bother him by loitering around anymore.

you pull your bottom lip between your teeth and give a little shrug

"probably, jaemin's internship ends soon too so-"

"then would you be ok with seeing me- well-"

renjun flusters

which is somehow a shocking different from his usual blank expression of utter handsomeness. the stark difference is loveable and you almost have to stop yourself from falling over.

"well what i mean is would you want to maybe see me - outside of the garden.....like not here but somewhere else?"

"to hangout?"

you grip your camera and renjun half nods, but then you can see he's trying to think of the right word

"yes to hangout and like....but different, like a different kind of hangout."

confusion settles on your face and you are about to ask what he means exactly when someone burst between you two

"there you two are! sorry, was i interrupting renjun asking you on a date?"

jaemin's voice manages to echo even though you're all outside

and you push him playfully as renjun rids himself of jaemin's body weight and huffs

"aren't you supposed to be looking at toadstools are something jaemin?"

"first of all, toadstools are unscientific and not the correct term for a class of mushrooms. so mind your manners, and second - why would i want to miss the exciting moment where you too finally agree to go out!"

you catch renjun's gaze and it's as big and as wide as yours

"w-was that what you were asking, if i would go on a date with you?"

the words shock you ask they spill from your mouth

renjun nods, slowly, and then casts a look at jaemin

"yes. before this one interrupted."

jaemin looks between you two as if he is guilty of nothing

for a second you forget about him and then nod back

"y-yes id love to!"

renjun's face softens and he's about to ask for your number when jaemin claps his hands and the sound probably rattles the earth underneath you three

"amazing! this is truly a moment to remember!"

you and renjun both lurch at him and he laughs as you two tell him to go back to his mushrooms

and yet somehow, you three are all smiles when the day comes to an end because you and renjun have set up a date and jaemin is taking most of the credit for it

that summer, after you send the photo of the butterfly nestled perfectly on the tip of renjun's nose to your professor, is one that stays with you forever

you spend most of it with renjun, whenever he isn't busy with his butterflies, learning more and more about him

the little things like he doesn't like cilantro, he frequently doodles and draws in his free time, and he breaks everything he does down into a meticulous step by step process

you watch in fascination as he organizes his side dishes by the order he eats them, tabs the important dates in his planner, and pins your candid photos in a perfectly straight line above his desk

you know some of his friends call him a stickler, but it's really just another thing you grow to like about him

after all - your birthday gets a special, green tab in his planner. green means extra, extra, extra important

as for the butterfly garden .... you try a couple of times to go in. each time, renjun lists off a million reasons why butterflies are great and docile and not dangerous or scary

but every time you kind of apologize and say you can't do it - which renjun doesn't hark on you for

he just takes your hand and kisses the back of it, asks if you want to go visit jaemin or see the roses again

and as much as you love your friend, there's been too many instances of renjun leaning in to tuck your hair from your face and kiss you, all while jaemin pops up between you two like he's at the movies

and you two have to turn around and shoo him off as he insists he just wants to bear witness to the romance of the century

you and renjun sprawl across his bed, looking up at the ceiling as he finds comfort in counting the stripes on your shirt in silence and you mumble about how the summer is almost over and you won't be able to just be lazy like this with him anymore

the days of doing absolutely nothing

renjun props himself on his elbow and looks at you seriously

"spending time with someone you love isn't doing nothing. it's the act of growing closer."

you almost blurt out that that's the most romantic thing you've ever heard and you are going to cry

but instead, circle your hands around his neck and flip him over to be under you

poor renjun tells his directors he got bit by a species from the culicidae family (mosquito) to try and hide the blotch on his collarbone

and while the directors are impressed with renjun's knowledge of insects, jaemin just gives him the good old finger guns of 'yeah. sure'.

your photograph gets great marks from your professor, who replies to the image with praise about the lightening and angle

and the way you managed to capture both your boyfriend and the butterfly

you read the email to renjun over the phone and can almost hear the blush on him when you say boyfriend

you wonder if the future is going to be as sweet as this summer, can someone like you who is so terrified of the creatures renjun has structured his whole life around, really be the right choice for him

and when you ask renjun this, on the day before your classes officially start in the fall

he says that you don't have to be just like him for him to love you

it's the fact that you're so very you that he feels stronger about this relationship than he has about any other

and who cares that you don't like bugs. it just means that if you live together in the future he can be the one to get the spider under the cup and let it free while you lock yourself in the bathroom out of fear

you giggle at this, your heart beating against your ribs at the thought of a future so domestic with the boy smiling down at you

and the best thing is that future comes to fruition

when a decade later you're waiting for renjun outside of the botanical garden, where he strolls out with his co-worker jaemin whose holding a funny looking pot of yellow-topped mushrooms

"date night for the newlyweds?"

he wiggles his eyebrows the same way he did when you two were in college

you shoo him off with the hand that has your wedding ring on it and you tuck your hand through renjun's

"date night for you and some fungi, jaemin?"

he makes a face at your comment and bounds off in the direction of his car

you look up at renjun who chuckles to himself and pecks your lips in a greeting

"how are the butterflies this year?"

you ask as you two turn to walk down the street

"beautiful - do you think this might be the year you finally visit the garden?"

you scrunch up your nose and mumble that maybe, you'll have to see if after ten years your fear really hasn't gotten any better

he smiles and says you can take your time - ten, twenty, thirty

he'll be by your side when you decide it is time

you stop to look at him - seeing for a moment the flash of the boy with the butterfly on his nose - and smile

"and ill be by your side for anything and everyhing too."

he picks your hand up with his own - your matching rings gleam in the setting sun

"i know, that's why i married you."

[psychee92]

Why I stand by Elriel, no matter what (even if SJM decides to go in a different direction)

Disclaimer: This post contains spoilers for ACOSF and Azriel’s POV

Because, despite everyone fearing him and his shadows, he was the one to put Elain at ease during the dinner scene in ACOMAF.

Because Elain made him smile during that same scene, and their conversation revealed more about Azriel’s inner thoughts and preferences (what it’s like for him to fly) than Feyre’s POV.

Because she was genuinely interested in his answer.

Because he was gentle with her when she was in the most fragile state of mind.

Because, when he flew her down from the House of Wind, he carried her in through the front door.

Because she called his scars beautiful.

Because he offered her his arm, and was as “graceful as a courtier.”

Because he offered to show her the garden—out of everyone, including her sisters, he was the only one to offer to show her the gardens when she needed them the most.

Because he stood by her side in silence, sunning his wings and reading his reports while keeping her company in the garden. Neither spoke, but both were comfortable in each other’s presence.

Because he was the only one to truly listen to her. When everyone else believed that Elain was slowly going mad and speaking nonsense, Azriel took her seriously and asked her the right questions.

Because he was the only one who managed to tether her to reality when she was struggling to make sense of her visions.

Because he was the only one who listened to her words and saw a gift, not madness.

Because he was the one who figured out that she was a seer—his realization was what freed her from the murky realm where dreams and reality blended together.

Because he “went still” when he saw her.

Because he, without anyone asking him to, offered to take her out to the garden.

Because he genuinely wanted to spend time with her, and seemed to enjoy doing so.

Because she has never been afraid of his shadows.

Because he is always gentle when he touches her, “as if afraid that his scars will hurt her.”

Because he is the only one who notices that she has been taken by the Cauldron. Not even Nesta thinks of Elain, but Azriel does.

Because he doesn’t hesitate before risking his life to save her. Feyre didn’t offer to go rescue Elain until Azriel announced that he would.

Because he came for her, when no one else would.

Because she “devours” the sight of him, not quite believing that he’s actually there.

Because during their escape, they fight as a unit to save Briar and keep Azriel airborne. Elain holds on to Briar tightly, and kicks the hound off Azriel’s wings with her bare feet, while his shields protect her from Hybern’s attack.

Because he “cradles her to his chest” the whole way back to the camp, despite his injuries and the fact that she is able to walk on her own.

Because, when they arrive back at the camp, his first thoughts are for her comfort, not his injuries. When Rhys mentions that he needs a doctor, Azriel tells him that someone needs to take the chains off Elain.

Because she kisses his cheek in gratitude.

Because when he sees how scared she is of battle, he gives her Truth-Teller, knowing that she cannot walk into a battlefield unarmed.

Because he has never let anyone touch that blade in 500 years, but he lets Elain borrow it.

Because she trusts him enough to take it.

Because her smile lights up his shadows.

Because he takes the heavy dish from her hands and does not let anyone touch the food until she joins them at the table.

Because he has never before cared about waiting for everyone to be seated.

Because he is the first one to approach her during the Solstice celebration, when he sees her sitting by the window by herself. 

Because she gives him a Solstice gift.

Because she pays enough attention to him to notice how he always rubs his temples.

Because she went out of her way to ask Madja to make the powder for his headaches.

Because she made him laugh, a joyous sound that Feyre had never heard before. So much so that his eyes turned gold.

Because when everyone else has gone upstairs (at 3 AM), he stays in the living room with her, listening to her talk about future plans for her garden.

Because he is genuinely interested in what she loves.

Because he always shows concern for her, and is protective of her.

Because his shadows feel the need to protect her, as well, when they think that she’s in danger/hurt.

Because he’s guided by the sound of her laughter.

Because something “charged” goes through them when they make eye contact.

Because her breath catches when she looks at him and sees what’s in his eyes.

Because he cannot bear the thought of her with anyone else.

Because he cannot stand the scent of her mating bond.

Because he gives her a Solstice present, one that was picked out with her in mind.

Because she gives him a Solstice present for the second year in a row—another thoughtful, practical gift that he needs and can use.

Because her hand shakes when she gives it to him.

Because he has kept the headache powder she gave him last year on his nightstand instead of using it, and has stared at it every night since.

Because they understand each other without having to say a word.

Because he wants to kiss her.

Because she wants to kiss him just as badly.

Because he thinks that they should be mates, instead, and goes as far as to question the Cauldron’s judgement, something that is considered a sacrilege in their culture/world.

Because he thinks that she deserves the world.

Because he wants to be with her.

And she wants to be with him.

It’s as simple (and as complicated) as that.

[beskarberry]

Star-crossed

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 11

(The Mandalorian x f!reader) (+18)

"His heartbeat picked up to a wicked cantor, echoing in his helmet like a storm of leathery wings. Whispering demons crawled up his brainstem and dragged beloved memories down from his skull and into the light of judgement. Memories of you."

<-Previous Next->

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 9.k oh no

Content warnings: Major angst, nightmares, premonitions, auditory hallucinations, unsavory parental figures, paranoia, domestic disputes, child endangerment, violence. No smut in this one, the only thing getting fucked in this chapter are our feelings.

A/N: This one hurt to write, there were definitely some tears shed while putting this together this so fair warning do not expect this one to end well. :(

High above the metal decking of the engine room, you were elbow deep in an exhaust port, clearing away the slag to replace one of the durasteel plates that had started to warp from the excess heat. You were singing, as you always did when you worked; a vulgar, brassy shanty that was almost louder than the reciprocating scraper in your hands. You spat and wiped a wayward chunk of grease from your mouth, the taste of it oily and burnt. No matter how many times you’d been taught the lesson of ‘keep your mouth closed’ you couldn’t help it. Whenever you worked, you sang.

Raucous as a mudhorn in heat and louder than a full grown krayt, your songs were a favorite of your unit, and the chief of engineering would often come stand a while and listen; though the moment he was caught eavesdropping he would scold you for not working harder. Tough love is what he called it. He was yelling at you now from far below at the base of the hyperdrive engine, and you pushed your goggles up your grime-smeared face to see him.

Bilgerat! Get’cher ass down ‘ere, posthaste!

Yessir!

Now you were standing in front of the chief, though there was another man standing there too. Tall, thin and pale with eyes like a dead fish and a tight, steelset jaw. You didn’t recognize him, but he looked important, his lapel shining with the badge of a high-ranking officer.

You there, girl, sing.

Sir?

Don’t argue with me, child, I heard you from three decks over. Sing.

Being watched made you nervous, but you did as you were ordered. You sang something, maybe everything, either way the stranger watched you, no, judged you, his eyes never leaving your face. The dead-eyed man furrowed his brow and stroked his chin thoughtfully, but you had already stopped watching him, caught in your song, powerless against the siren song that was your own voice.

It always felt so good to let loose, your voice could set your soul free, and yet it also felt like it was pulling something in. Something greater than yourself, flowing through you, connecting you to every living thing that ever was or ever will be. Your boots were firmly stuck aboard the starship called the Wyvern’s Tongue, but your songs carried your heart to the farthest reaches of the galaxy, to worlds beyond your durasteel home.

~

The humming is what woke Din up, though he hadn’t slept much through the night anyway, too suspicious of the artifact he had found aboard his ship. Fully armored, sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall of the borrowed quarters he had stood guard over his tiny clan, dozing in and out of restless sleep.

He lifted his helmeted head to zero in on the noise you were making. It was one he was familiar with, you often hummed in your sleep, it was something he loved about you. The warm, wavering sound coming from the floor where you had made a nest of quilts for yourself was comforting, but tonight something about it seemed off.

He watched you sleep, noticing the way that your fingers twitched and your legs kicked behind you slightly. It wasn’t like you to be so energetic, so distressed. Clutched to your chest the foundling purred softly, but you didn’t seem to hear him. Your hums turned to whimpers, making the Mandalorian’s blood run cold.

She’s having a nightmare.

She’s perfect. I’ll take her.

But sir, she’s m’best bilgie. How’ll I-

Is that insubordination I hear, Chief Wellers?

N-no Cap’n Forescythe. She’s all yours.

Good. Come along, little sparrow, your talents are being wasted here.

You remember being so scared, looking to your chief for reassurance, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes. Though you’d lived aboard the Wyvern’s Tongue since she had left Corellia’s port you’d never actually met the captain. The starcruiser was well over a thousand meters long and home to hundreds of crewmates, putting bilgerats far below the captain’s sphere of influence. What did he want from you?

Each step you took in your dream you got taller, your strides lengthening as you grew from a gangly teenager to a young woman. You were at the bridge now, being sat in a stiff but comfortable chair. You were taught to relay orders, delegate operations, interpret incoming transmissions and their origins. It was a station high above your birthright, but you were never one to turn down a challenge, and you bullied your way to excellence; much to your captain’s pride.

Captain Forescythe was usually described as a cold, unforgiving man, but he treated you remarkably well for a boat-brat dug up from the scuppers, much to the disdain of his fellow officers. He told you that you were a natural talent, gifted by the Maker with a voice so strong, so beautiful, almost like he revered you for it. Much like the ship's namesake, the Wyvern’s captain lorded over you like treasure, jealousy guarding you like a priceless jewel.

The captain’s precious little pet.

Sing, my little Sparrow.

~

Unable to spectate any longer, Din crawled over to you, brushing an armored hand over your sweat-streaked face. “Mesh’la? Are you alright? Wake up cyare, you’re having a nightmare.”

Wake up.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away. Once where a beautiful, peaceful world had once been there was now only dust. The Death Star your ship was escorting had succeeded in her mission, and you had been graciously allowed to watch as the mechanical moon obliterated a billion lives as one would exterminate a nest of roaches. Around you your crew cheered, hooray for the Empire! Death to the Resistance! But you couldn’t hear them.

You heard screaming.

Clawing at your ears and squeezing your eyes closed did nothing to make it stop. As if millions of voices were funneling directly into your skull.

You ran. Ran through the labyrinthian hallways, ran as fast as you could to your quarters. Even your blankets would not protect you, the wailing only growing louder.

Murderers! Monsters! You killed us! Why? Why why why!

You ran from your tiny room, backpack slung over your shoulder, filled with what few things you owned. Ran all the way to the hangar. You’d worked on interceptors a thousand times before when your hands were still small, when you could weasel your way into the narrowest of spaces and prove yourself worthy of not getting jettisoned. Knife in hand you unlocked the security protocols easier than picking your teeth, and the hangar fell away beneath you.

Turning back one last time to glance at the artificial home you had known for so long you saw a figure standing there. Was it the captain? Had he come to stop you? Stop his precious Sparrow from flying away?

No. They were blue, flickering in and out of corporeality. Their face took up your entire mindscape now, their features ever changing, like you were looking at more than one face at a time. The eldritch being’s eyes bored through yours, shifting rapidly from those of a man to those of a child to those of an elder, a hundred lives all demanding to be seen at once. Their mouth did not move when it spoke.

“i̴͊̎t̴'s̸̉͋ ̵͋c̸͑ȏ̸̕m̸͐͛i̸̽͘n̷̾͂ǵ̵”

You sucked air like your lungs had never known oxygen, nearly launching the foundling into orbit as you bolted upright. Beskar burdened arms coiled around you the next second, and you stung your knuckles on his armor trying to fight him off in your panic.

“Ger’off’a me! It wasn’t my fault! I’m sorry! Please!”

“Cyare! Stop! You’re having a nightmare, it’s ok I’ve got you!” Battleborne muscles held you tight against a cold plate of steel while you thrashed until you were coherent. Husband. You let your body relax against your oathsworn and wept, deep, heaving sobs that tore your throat apart and crackled your ribs. Soft shushing noises came through Din’s modulator next to your ear, but the cold metal of his armor brought you little comfort.

“I-I’m s-s-sor-ry.” You stuttered into the fabric of his cowl, the roughhewn cloth soaked with tears. Strong fingers carded through your dampish hair, still not dried all the way from your shower only a few hours ago. Din pressed his palm against the back of your head, burying you in the crook of his shoulder where he could protect you from whatever had scared you. The yellowed tips of his gloves bumped against your unburdened ear cuffs with each pass of his hand, but the leather scraping the metal couldn’t drown out the whispers that still oozed from your thoughts.

Why why why why why why...

“It’s alright, cyar’ika, I’m here. Grogu’s here.” Without tearing your eyes away from the safe haven of his cloak you groped blindly for the baby, finding the disheveled youngling and pulling him in tight. “Can you tell me what happened?” Din asked, his modulated voice soft with worry. You shook your head against your partner. “Alright, that’s ok.”

-ỉ̶t'̸͑̋́̂s̸ ̵̝͕̏̀͠͝c̷̬͙̃̽͌̑̊o̷̅͑̓̈́m̴̧͓͈̭̃͂́̽͌͑ǐ̶̓̕n̷̓̋̚g̵͕͙͎͊̀͊̽!̶̑̀-

You gasped and pulled away from your husband’s comfort, eyes wider than moons, pupils shrunken to pinpoints. Gloved hands found your face, cupping your cheeks and trying to get you to look into his hidden honeywells that were searching your eyes. Unblinking, you looked right through him.

“Can you hear that?” You whispered, your voice far, far away.

“Hear what?”

-I̴̭̊̚͘͘T̷́̽̕S̴̔̅̈́ ̸̋C̸̀͋Ỏ̸̉̄͝M̸̐͂I̶N̷̽͗̈̌G̵͓̎̈̊̀͛͘͠!̶!̷̤̏-

“That!” you shrieked, making both your boys jump. You clawed at your ears, though you knew that wouldn’t help, the voices were coming from inside. “I-I have.. I have to go! I have to go now!” You tried to spring up off the floor, but your arm was caught in the iron grip you knew and trusted, keeping you at your knees. “I have to warn Alewyn!”

“Cyar’ika what are you talking about? Warn her about what?”

The phantom voice wailed again, and you doubled over from the force of it, sending a fresh wave of tears down your face. Din was getting scared now, his eyes wide with worry behind the visor, his throat bobbing around dry swallows. You’d never woken up like this before, so distraught and inconsolable, and it was making him feel helpless. He couldn’t put binders on your emotions, grapple with your fears, slay your inner demons.

“Let go!” You roared and flew from his grasp, tripping over your faceplate and the pile of quilts as you blasted out the door, sprinting down the Sunskate’s curving corridors towards the bridge with your foundling stuffed under your arm. Haunting voices chased you through the halls, making you deaf to the armored thunder that was following dutifully behind.

You charged through the bulkhead to the bridge, nearly busting the durasteel door off its hinges when you flew through it, skittering to a halt in front of the viewport. With wild eyes you searched the void, ignoring the concerned questions that were being asked of you. Where is it where is it where is it?! From corner to corner you scanned, locking your red-rimmed eyes on every flicker, every spark.

Nothing.

Nothing for miles.

Slowly you became aware of those around you, the soft leather gloves of your mate pulling on your face and the warm but worried voice of the Sunskate’s captain.

“Cyare?”

“Tra’laar?”

“Patu?”

Your legs gave out under you and you let yourself be caught in the steelbound arms of your husband, the two of you sinking to the floor with the foundling still locked to your chest. Terror replaced itself with scalding embarrassment, making you bury your unblinking eyes in the foundling’s forgiving tummy. Your eyelids wouldn’t close no matter how hard you willed them to, because they knew that somewhere, out there,

Was a dragon.

“What’s wrong with her? Did you do something to upset her?!” Alewyn hissed, becoming defensive of her ill-begotten rescue.

“No! She had a nightmare, I think. Cyar’ika whatever it is, it’s not real. There’s nothing out there, come back to me, please.” Mando’s loving pleas and careful touches went unrecognized, no matter how diligent they were.

What finally drew you back to reality was the gentle pat pat pat of fat baby paws on your face. You turned your wilted gaze to the foundling, the embarrassment of being seen so vulnerable only growing stronger and more painful. “I-I’m s-sorry, Goober, you s-sh-sh-shouldn’t have to see me like-”

Pap.

Baby beans smacked you softly on your forehead and closed his eyes, making you furrow your brow. “What are you- oh.” Your eyes slid closed, and a warm peacefulness breezed through you, exorcising the whispering voices between your ears. You took a deep, somewhat stuttered breath and let go, feeling whatever weird baby magic the foundling possessed flow through you. The night terror faded to the back of your mind, dissipating like mist until it evaporated entirely from your thoughts.

“Thank you…” You whispered, nuzzling the baby’s chubby belly. Heart rate steady and breath even, you leaned back against the man who was still holding you up. Din rested the edge of his helmet on the top of your head and hummed, a low, brassy tone, sounding relieved. Where his hands were wrapped around your sides you felt the slow roll of his palms, warm and protective. “I’m sorry, Mando, Alewyn, I don’t know what came over me...”

“S’all right, missy, t’ain’t the first time I’ve seen someone go wailin’ through the halls. We all have our burdens to bear.” Alewyn combed a dainty hand through your hair, brushing it out of your face. “Good thing them boys’ve gotcha though.” She glanced between the visor of the Mandalorian that was coiled so defensively around you and the little green baby you held so dearly. “I can tell they love ya.”

You nodded sheepishly and let Din help you to your feet, his hands never leaving you lest you waver. Angrily you wiped at the corners of your eyes, trying to cover your shame as the three of you walked back to your room. When the bedroom door closed behind you, you went straight for the porthole window, cautiously searching the stars again.

“What are you looking for?” Din asked hesitantly, “What… what were you dreaming about?”

“Um. I had a dream we were… under attack.” You lied, your eyes still locked to the void. If you could help it, the secrets of your past would someday die with you, though by the sounds of the whispers you had heard not even death could keep its mouth closed.

“Must have been one hell of a nightmare, I’ve never seen you like this. Is there anything I can do for you?” Din the ever-thoughtful asked, draping a quilt over your shoulders. The fabric was still warm from where you had been sleeping on it, the weight of it reassuring on your back. You shook your head. He glanced at the back of one vambrace, “We’re still another hour from the station, why don’t we get our things packed and back on the Crest? Would that be ok?”

It was better than going back to sleep, you didn’t trust your own thoughts not to terrorize you again, and you nodded enthusiastically. Din didn’t allow you to lift a finger while he zoomed around the little room, collecting your armor and laundry and then you, scooping you and the foundling up in his arms.

“Put me down, tinman, I’m not helpless!” you chided with a weak little laugh.

“There’s my girl. Nope, I’m carrying you. Deal with it.”

You sighed in a heavy, mocking tone, covering your face with your mask like a shy child while he proudly tromped back to the hangar to where your immobile home lay. Once you were all lifted up the half-hanging ramp you dropped graclessly onto a crate with a huff. You were beat, but it felt nice to be back in your ship, the familiarity adding to whatever calming effect the foundling had used. The little green terror was drowsy in your arms, spent from using his wild baby powers to vanquish your demons. You kissed his wrinkly little head and swaddled him in the quilt Din had accidentally stolen for you.

Tinman was digging through the larder, looking for something for breakfast and found a pack of biscuits to give you. Though the suspicious item he still carried in his pocket had kept him sleepless, the need to care for his loved ones overrode every other instinct, making him forget it for the time being. You weren’t hungry, if anything you were nauseous from your night terror, but Din was insistent; and you nibbled on a bright blue macaroon, splitting bites with the sleepy baby.

Eventually a soft beeping chimed from the Mandalorian’s vambrace, stationfall in fifteen minutes. Outside the ship you heard a holler, and you strode to the ramp to find Alewyn and Lilah, ready to bid thee farewell.

”Alright, so!” Alewyn exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Here’s the dealy-o. The Sunskate can’t actually… dock with the station. M’good ole dad’s still got hunters on the loose, never know when they’ll turn up, eh?” She laughed. “Your ship’s gonna have’ta dock on’er own, but Lilah’s patchwork should hold ya together long ‘nough for the service droids’ta pick ya up.”

You ignored the loud, audible groan from behind you. “I think we can manage that.” You started to hop down off the ramp, but the spry Togruta was already climbing up into the Crest, barreling you over. Alewyn the Affectionate squeezed your ribs so hard you felt the air leave your lungs, making you grunt ugly. One of her nimble hands disappeared from you into her many secret pockets, then snuck into one of yours, leaving a sizable weight of credits behind. “Wynnie!” you hissed against her montral, “Not again!”

“S’least I can do, since we nearly ripped that old bucket’a shit in half and you spared another spacer from the slab.” She held you out at arms length, bobbling her montrals at you with an arrogant grin. “Take care’a yerself, missy. And you too, Mando! Be good to this woman’n’er son or so help me!” The princess raised a fist at him that turned into an outstretched hand. He shook it hesitantly, but the lavender lady reeled him in, and you giggled at his hover-hands while she squeezed the life out of him.

Lilah helped her wife down from the ramp, and the two of them waved before hefting the ramp closed, sealing you inside with your crew. You dashed up the ladder to the cockpit, looking for a horn to honk but there wasn’t one, giving you another item to add to your mental grocery list. Din followed you up with Grogu in tow, taking his seat in the captain’s chair.

The Sunskate’s hangar jaws slid open slowly, pulling a blue force field over the stretch of stars. Far ahead you could just barely make out the shiny little dot where the station was, glittering just a little brighter than the stars themselves. With the cockpit door tightly sealed, Din carefully started up the old gunship, and on instinct you covered Grogu’s ears to protect him from the inevitable backfire.

The Razor Crest sputtered to life and slowly floated out of the hangar door, relying more on inertia than propulsion to get her towards the station. Out the window you saw the enormous rayship that had carried you here bank away from you, the starlight glittering briefly on her copper-colored belly before her propulsion engines flared back to life, and soon enough she was nothing more than a comet streaking through the void.

Din fussed with the radio transponder, opening up a hailing frequency that would alert the attention of the station droids, and it wasn’t long before a large transport unit was making its way to you. The automatic taxi magnetized itself to the roof of the Crest, easing the strain off of your damaged engines.

A robotic voice beeped through the comms: “THANK YOU FOR CHOS-ING EL-GON AU-TO-MA-TED SER-VI-CES. SMILE-Y FACE. CO-MEN-CING TRANS-PORT TO HAN-GAR SEV-EN-TEEN FOR EV-AL-U-A-TION AND RE-PAIR. HAVE A NICE DAY. SMILE-Y FACE”

Din groaned, his fists creaking on the steering wheel. “Why’s it gotta be droids…”

You shrugged in your chair. “Elgon’s old as dirt, prob’ly older than the Crest. I’d be surprised if there wasn’t anything on it that wasn’t animatronic.”

“Great.”

Ahead of you, the station dominated your viewport, humming with a myriad of activity. A neutral starport, Elgon boasted service to any and all as long as they had coin in their pockets, regardless of their commendations or crimes. You’d been to the old outpost many a time, both on your own and while you still wore a uniform, and excitedly you remembered a particular sweets shop that used to operate in the center.

Your service droid was nearly at the station now, approaching a large closed hangar with the number seventeen painted on it in orange Basic. You playfully kicked at the side of the pilots’ seat where Din’s butt was unguarded by the arm rests. “You excited to get fixed up, bucket boy?”

He nodded, he was ready to get back on the trail towards the last bounty. The thought of hunting again reminded him of the Imp device in his pocket that still mystified him, reigniting buried suspicions. I should ask her about it, maybe she knows what it is. He hadn’t wanted to disturb you while you were showering, or when you were getting ready to sleep, so being the polite riddur he decided he would bring it up with you in the morning.

Din reached into his pocket, closing his fingers around the mechanical spider, ready to pull it into the light when the hangar doors opened.

Revealing a blizzard of white duraplast.

“Oh fuck.” Your collective hearts went through the decking at the sight before you. There, swarming the station proper were dozens of Imperial stormtroopers, their eggheads covering the hangar like dirty snow. “Get down!” you hissed at Din who was already two steps ahead of you, sliding out of the pilots seat and under the dashboard. You tore the faceplate off of your crown and stuffed it into his hands along with Grogu and caged your two boys in with your knees, determined to keep anything mando-factured out of sight.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Din spat, slamming his fist on the floor. “This station is supposed to be neutral territory! We need to turn around, we can not stay here!”

Under you the Crest swayed gently in the droid’s grasp before being lowered onto a maintenance skiff, the hoversled bouncing slightly from the weight of your ship. Desperately you threw levers and pushed switches, trying to get the Crest to restart, but her engines were long gone, the turbines spinning almost mockingly slow. You weren’t going anywhere.

The comms light lit up on the dashboard with a soft chime, and on reflex you went to answer it when Din grabbed your leg. “Don’t even think about it.”

You made ‘what-choice-do-we-have’ hands at him, “Dude we are fucked unless I answer them, I-I speak their language, I can get us through.”

“Yeah? So do I.” He hissed from the floor, smacking the side of his thigh where his firearm hung.

“-Ksst!- hush! I’m handling this.” You straightened your shoulders and set your jaw straight before flipping on the receiver.

The holoprojector lit up in front of you with a tiny stormtrooper. “Identify yourself.”

“TK number SPW dash seven-zero-four-two, engaged in dogfight planetside and in need of repairs.”

“Why isn’t your ship running a beacon, soldier?”

“It's pre-empire surplus, it doesn’t have one.”

“What are you doing flying around in such a relic?” The stationmaster said with a bite of suspicion.

“...Budget cuts.”

They chuckled. ”No kidding. Alright then, what’s your designation?”

Shit, uh... “Prisoner transport unit.”

“Roger. Stand-by for transportation to engineering bay and prepare for inspection.”

The trooper winked out of existence, and you started to sigh with relief when the hand on your boot yanked you down to the ground.

“Prisoner transport unit?!” He rasped once you were at visor level with him on the floor. “Could you have come up with something else?!”

Unwillingly, your lips curled back and bared your teeth at his hateful tone. “There’s a shitload of guns and a goddamn carbonite freezer down in the hold, we’re not exactly delivering cookies. We need to get you two hidden before we get to the mechanics, come on!”

Din watched you drop through the ladder hatch with his heart in his throat, the fluttering organ violently trying to break out of his ribs. The Maker must think this is hilarious. After everything I’ve done to keep this kid away from the Imps we’re just going to go knocking on their fucking door. Everything was stacked against him. He was tired from lack of sleep, he was scared for the safety of his clan, and to top it all off he was becoming more distrustful of the microchip by the second; the mounting tension he emanated filling the cockpit like carbonite fog.

Maybe it’s a tracking device?

That… might make sense. Elgon station was out in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, why else would a shitload of Imps be here if not to capture him and his crew? To take his son? Through the night he had grown suspicious of the item he had found, and a nagging thought had seeded itself in his frontal lobe, one that he refused to give audience.

What if it came from her?

No, that’s stupid. That’s your riddur, she’s obviously not an Imp. He reasoned, slowly soldier-crawling his way to the hatch with his son and your armor in tow. It must have been in the coral already, or come from one of the pirates, maybe they planted it here. But if that’s the case then we’ve been handed right over into a trap. He lept down the ladder with Grogu squashed under his arm, watching you fly around the cabin looking for an acceptable hiding spot for your foundling and a full grown Mandalorian.

Time started to move in slow motion as it usually did for him when he was sizing up quarry. What did her puck say, before I decided not to turn her in? He ran through his mental rolodex, digging for your file. Ex hunter. Guild dissenter. Bribed out of high-profile bounty. Now that he had met the high-profiler for himself he really couldn’t blame you, though it was suspicious that you had returned from the bridge one bounty short after speaking with Alewyn in private.

Alewyn. Princess-turned-pirate, a renegade royal that had made a name for herself literally ripping ships down from the sky. Hunter ships in particular. Awful convenient for her to be right in our line of travel to a station full of Imps out in the middle of fuckall nowhere. He froze, his visor locked to your frantic form. As if…

As if she was waiting for us.

The corners of his lips bared his teeth to no-one behind his visor as the distrust he had sown in his own heart dug its claws in deep. This has been a trap from the beginning! She’s been playing the long con since Tatooine. In his other hand he held your betrothal gift, the beskar faceplate that he had presented to you when you swore your vows. It reflected his own visor back to him, the hazy lighting of the cabin shimmering on the mudhorn embossed on the brow. No… that’s not it… that’s not true, she loves you…

Right…?

Or… so she says. His heartbeat picked up to a wicked cantor, echoing in his helmet like a storm of leathery wings. Whispering demons crawled up his brainstem and dragged beloved memories down from his skull and into the light of judgement. Memories of you.

He’d caught you so easily on that dirtball of a planet, too easily for a hunter of your stature. You’d practically tossed yourself into the arms of a complete stranger, assumed the role of the child’s caregiver without question. Agreed to marry him after barely a month.

Grogu made a sniffling noise under Din’s arm, gaining both of his buir’s attentions. His nebulous eyes were beginning to moisten, threatening to spill over with tears at any moment. Instantly you ran to your baby’s defense. “Hey buddy boy, what’s wrong?” You carefully took the baby from Din, hugging him to your chest and making the tiniest sob bubble out of his nose. “No no no it’s ok, please don’t cry sweetheart!”

“He’s scared.” Din growled in a manner not at all comforting. You glared at the indomitable mountain of metal, offended that he would use such a tone in front of his own son. “He knows when there’s a threat nearby.” Under you the Crest wobbled slightly, signaling the start of her trek to the engineering bay. Tick tock.

“Fuck! Can you get in a storage crate?” you asked frantically, bouncing Grogu on your hip to get him to quiet down. The baby could sense the mounting anxiety radiating off of his buir, and was getting himself spun up into a fresh panic. His cries devolved into sobs, making the hull echo with despair. “Shh.. it’s ok! Baby boy please, we can’t do this right now!”

“Too obvious.”

“Ok, the sleeping cubby? The lockers? C’mon Mando work with me!”

“They’ll tear this ship apart the second it hits the bay. There’s no hiding. That’s it, we’re done for.” Din tossed up his hands and made some kind of noise in the back of his throat, some kind of strained laugh, the husk of it making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You knew that sound, it was the sound of acceptance, of defeat.

Like fuck you were giving up. You made to retaliate when something past his shoulder caught your eyes. Expecting you to fight with him he stopped his pacing and glared at you, then followed your eyes to the carbonite freezer. He whipped back around, gawking at you like you’d grown a second head. “Oh fuck no.”

“We are out of options!” you nearly screamed, “I can’t just cuff you, there’s no guarantee that they won't take you and Beans hostage, freezing you would be safer. I-it would only be for an hour or two, tops, just to pass inspection! That thing can unfreeze, right?”

“That is not the point!” Din bellowed, “You are suggesting not only to freeze me but to freeze him as well?” Din jabbed a finger at the baby, a rush of emotions threatening to boil his bucket right off his head. He widened his shoulders, broadening himself so large that he seemed to encompass the entire ship, glossy black eye turning dark and hateful on you. He couldn’t keep his suspicions to himself any longer. “You… has this been your plan all along?”

You balked, “Plan? Plan for what? The hell are you-”

He threw your beskar on the floor and grabbed your shoulders, pinning you against the wall opposite the freezer and making Grogu scream out in terror. Mando’s visor took up your entire field of view, reflecting with your own wild eyes. “Your plan to capture us!” He barked, the malice overflowing like an erupting volcano. “You told that Imp that this was a prisoner transport unit. We don’t have any prisoners on this ship unless you’ve had them since the beginning.”

“Are you out of your fucking bucket?!” You spat back at him, “You think I want to put you in carbonite?! Put my son in carbonite?! There’s nowhere else on this ship to hide you!”

“How convenient.” The joints in your shoulders popped from the force he was applying to them, his weight nearly fusing you with the wall.

“You’re hurting me!” Over you the lights began to flicker, though neither of you saw it with your eyes locked on each other; yours filled with pain and anger, his visor pinning you down as if you were quarry.

At the sound of your pain the tension on your shoulder bones eased slightly, but not enough to let you free of the wall. Scalding shame burnt its way across his face, bitter and stinging. He was hurting you, the one thing he swore never to do to you again, the very first oath he had promised.

You chewed the side of your cheek, trying to steady your words. “Din. I love you. I love Grogu! I lied to that Imp to protect you. I don’t want those rotten eggs to have you, how could you even think that of me?”

She lies. One thing that Din knew about you was that you were unquestionably good at was putting on a ruse, able to sweet-talk quarry or lure droids to their deaths. But the way you took to the comms was different, how you were able to use the Imps own terminology against them, even how you spoke to the pirates before you were ‘rescued’ was delivered with flawless diction. It was too perfect, too natural...

As if that was your real voice.

“I don’t know if I believe you,” He growled, digging armored claws into the flesh of your shoulders, making you suck air through your teeth. Defensively you coiled your arms around Grogu, burying his wrinkly little head against your chest where he would be safe from the man you thought you trusted. Fire cascaded out from under Din's helmet, trying to burn you at the stake. “You told me once that I don’t know you.” His helmet tilted like a serpent poising to strike, words dripping with venom. “But I should have known an Imp when I saw one.”

“I am not an Imp!! That’s not who I am any MORE!” Bulbs exploded around you at your words, glass and sparks raining down from above. The strength of your thundering roar broke the delicate machinery in Din’s helmet, causing his audio intake to screech with feedback. Immediately his hands left your shoulders and went to his ears, trying to protect himself from the horrible noise.

The let-up was all the invitation you needed, and you dropped yourself low; catapulting into Din’s chest plate like a linebacker and knocking him into the freezer. You kicked your faceplate between his boots, thrust Grogu into his arms and punched the activator on the wall, tears flowing hotly down your face. As the fog billowed outward Mando wrapped himself around the foundling, as though his impenetrable armor could protect the child from the nightmare of being frozen alive.

Horrified, you watched as the two creatures you loved most were consumed by the mist, leaving a dark block in its wake that bore their likeness. The metal was already ice cold to the touch when you ran your hand over the glaring curve of your husband's visor, and down to the terrified, tear-streaked face of your baby.

Choked sobs tore at the back of your throat, trying to drown you with guilt. I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry my loves, I… I did what I had to do. You weren’t given time to process your grief, nearly jumping out of your skin when plasticast fists rapped on the access door with authoritarian vigor. Composing yourself to the best of your abilities, you stuck your finger down the barrel of your blaster, scraping off the dark residue and smearing it under your eyes to hide your welted cheeks.

Glass crunched under your boots as you made your way through the dismembered cabin to the wall panel, punching the buttons with shaky hands. The ramp chuggered and stopped halfway down, but it was down far enough for you to make visor contact with the platoon of troopers who were demanding your attention. Their armor was clean, freshly moulded and recently polished. These weren’t just the Empire’s soggy leftovers, these were new recruits.

Disgracefully hopping down from the ramp among a scurry of pit droids you puffed up your chest and squared your shoulders as you had seen your partner do whenever he was intimidating quarry. You crossed your arms behind your back in parade rest, watching as a painted trooper strode up to you, his rifle pointed at the floor near your feet.

“Stand aside, we have orders to search this ship.”

“Whose orders?”

“Elgon Station is under the Imperial jurisdiction of Admiral Forescythe, no ships in or out without search.”

You felt all the blood in your body evaporate at the name. Forescythe. Shit balls of hell, that fucking bastard is still alive?!

“Is that really necessary?”

The rifle in his hand rose just slightly. “You got something to hide?”

“No, sir.” you said sweetly, hoping politeness would buy you brownie points.

“Stand aside then.” The trooper barked, gesturing to your ship with the barrel of his rifle. You jumped when the heavy access ramp hit the ground, turning to glare daggers at the droid that had unfastened the damaged hydraulics. The stormtrooper marched past you up the ramp, inspecting the interior of the cabin as he went. As predicted, he nudged the lids of the supply crates open, pointing his gun at any would-be threats. Another pair of eggheads followed inside, rudely stomping through the Crest’s belly like they owned the place.

The painted trooper made loud, gross sniffing noises. “Smells like carbonite in here, your freezer might be leaking, better get that checked out…” He trailed off when he clocked the machine and its contents, taking big strides towards it. “Lookit that, Is that an actual mando? I didn’t even think they were real, I’ve only ever heard stories.” He gestured to you with his gun, “How’d you do it?”

“Do what?” You asked coldly.

“How’d you catch him? And his... weird dog?” The trooper tapped harshly on the solidified metal that covered your foundling's eyeball, making your blood pyroclast through your veins, but you remained composed.

“I’m more dangerous than I look.” You seethed, digging your nails into the skin of your arms behind your back. And you’re about to find out just how fucking dangerous if you don’t back off!

One of the unpainted soldiers piped up. “Do you think this is the one they’ve been looking for? The one the Admiral was talking about?”

“Could be, I’ll radio the Wyvern when it makes stationfall, should be dropping out of hyperspace in a few hours.” Cotton seemed to grow in your mouth at his words, making it impossible to swallow. No, it can't be.

-ī̶̱̩͋t's̴̈̅ ̵̛̂̈̋͋̏͘͝c̷ŏ̷̐̓͑ṁ̸͌̋̾̕in̵̨͎̩̠̼͂͜g̷͑̔.-

Shut up. The commander jabbed his rifle at you. “I heard someone say that mandos never take their helmets off, we should unfreeze it and see what it looks like.”

“No.” You barked, making the soldiers flinch. Haha. “He’s very dangerous, even under the effects of hibernation sickness he can still be quite lethal.”

“There’s three of us and only one of it.” A rifle was pointed your way, “Thaw it out.”

Like hell. “Alright, then I won’t have to be the one to explain to the Admiral why a Mandalorian is loose in the station, or dead. I’ve heard he’s a reasonable man.”

The three troopers looked at each other with questioning glances, suddenly unsure. That seemed enough to deter them, and you waited while the troopers barked orders at the repair droids, ordering them to get your ship fixed up. A battalion of robots swarmed the Razor Crest inside and out, almost making you thankful Mando wasn’t there to blast them full of holes. The greasy robots would make quick work of the damage, and hopefully have you out of the station before the Wyvern arrived.

The Wyvern. You wanted to curl in a ball and die. Of all the bullshit the galaxy had to offer it had decided that you deserved a double helping of unwanted nostalgia. Not only was the Wyvern’s Tongue still operational she would be bringing with her good old Admiral Forscythe, though last time you saw him he was just a captain.

Your captain.

And he was on his way.

To this station.

To your ship.

To you.

Oh fuck.

Immediately you turned to your partner for reassurance, only to meet his frozen stare. You wanted to release him, let him carry you safely away from this place, but you weren’t out of the woods yet; so you were both going to have to wait. You’d never been frozen, thank the Maker, but you’d heard stories. How being frozen is like being trapped alive, trying to breathe but not being able to move your lungs. Still being conscious but feeling your blood stop in your veins. A living death.

A waking nightmare.

Repair droids swarmed your ship’s interior like a hive of bees, but they were making quick work of the damage and would hopefully be gone soon. Shaky legs carried you back over to the carbonite freezer, and you leaned heavily on the block of frozen metal, stretching your arms around it in an attempted hug. I wish you were here, my love, but it will be over soon.

You pressed a kiss to both of your boy’s faces and slumped to the floor, leaning on the bandoliered boots behind you. Between the wide open ramp and the droids working on the stardrive you were too exposed to unfreeze your family, and the thought of having to wait even a minute longer made the edges of your eyes threaten to spill anew.

Stars above you wanted this to be over. The back of your throat tasted like bile, and the plasma residue smeared under your eyes was starting to burn. You needed to get away, to blast off into space with your boys and put your draconian past behind you before the literal beast reared her ugly head.

But… now he knows. You groaned into your knees, digging claws into your own hair. He knows! You fucking asshat now he knows! Your greatest, vilest secret had been spilled, and you were going to have to find a way to live with the consequences. He... he’ll understand. Bilgerats are practically foundlings, I just need to explain myself better. Yeah! That’s it! I didn’t have the chance to explain myself. He’ll forgive me… right?

Time seemed to crawl, languid and slow, forcing you to wallow in your own guilt. You cautiously eyed the platoons of troopers that would often march past, trying to glare daggers through their shiny white buckets, but they paid you no mind. The hours ticked by, making you more and more anxious by the second. You had no way of knowing how soon the Wyvern would arrive, could be hours, could be minutes. Could be seconds.

-į̶̱̩̄͋ͅt'̶̡̳̰̝̇s̴̈̅ ̵̧̛̺̂̈̋͋̏͘͝c̷̄͋͛̚oṁ̸͌̋̾́̈́̕͝i̸̇̏-

I’m aware! You snapped at your thoughts, pissed that they were still present long after Grogu had purged them from your mind. I must be going crazy, it’s the guilt. It has to be the guilt. You rubbed at your temples, trying to dispel the mounting tension in your skull. When you opened your eyes a sweeper droid was clearing away the glass shards from the floor, and you cocked your brows at it as it went by. When did the lights burn out?

Eventually the interior repairs were completed to the fullest, and the moment the ramp hydraulics were functional again you slammed the door shut and booked it back to the freezer controls.You turned a pair of knobs on the side of the carbonite block and took a step back. The metal that covered your beloved crewmates turned red, then bright gold, sloughing off in luminous waves.

You jumped to catch Din and the foundling before they hit the ground, his strength lost from the effects of hibernation sickness, nearly causing him to melt onto the floor along with the aurelius sludge pooling at your feet. In your ear you heard both of your boys taking desperate, broken breaths; and you rubbed at Din’s dorsal plate, encouraging him to fill his lungs.

As a unit you sank down to the floor where the child practically rolled into your lap. His enormous eyes were squinty and blinking, making you think that he may be temporarily blinded. “Hey booger, it’s ok, can you hear me?” Grogu made a sad little noise, but that meant he could at least still hear. “There ya go, that’s it, nice’n slow. Y’ok?” The child looked up at you with a twisted expression, then immediately yarked bright blue all over your shirt. “You know what, I deserved that, thanks.”

Din’s modulated cough grated in your ear. “How… long?”

“Couple hours, but the repairs are finished, we can get the fuck outta here now. Are you alright? You gonna barf?” He started to shake his head no, but the shaking might have been his downfall because you felt him start to heave. “Not in the bucket not in the bucket! Come on, up! Heeere we go…” You gently set Grogu down on the floor and bullied yourself up under Din’s arm, dragging him as fast as you could to the fresher. You barely got the beskar out of the way in time for your partner to empty his stomach. “That’s it, let it all out, I gotcha.”

Din hung on to the sides of the fresher like his life depended on it, shaking violently with every hurl, and there wasn’t much else you could do but hold on. He released one armored claw from the side of the fresher to reach back and find you, but when you tried to hold his hand to comfort him he pulled his fingers from your grasp. Again you tried, but this time he didn’t just let go, he pushed you away, and you heard him mumble something into the fresher bowl.

“-..a...tor-”

“What’d you say?”

“Traitor!!!” Din spat, curling back around at you with viciously bared teeth, eyes wild and bloodshot. You backpedaled away from the fuming warrior that was half crawling half leaping towards you, making weak throws that were slowly gaining in strength. “You fucking traitor! I should have known! I should have known from the very fucking start!” You’d never seen him angry without the helmet, and it terrified you. He terrified you.

You put up your hands defensively, backing away from him. “Please! Let me explain! It wasn’t-”

“I don’t listen to Imps!” He swung at you and missed, but his agility was quickly returning. You wouldn’t be so lucky the second time.

“Damn it Din, fucking listen-” Ignoring you, he groped for the gun on his belt, and you were barely able to grab your armor in time from the freezer to block his reckless shots. You crouched over Grogu, using your body and the face plate as a shield against the assaulting Mandalorian. “Din! Stop! Please! You’re going to hurt our son!”

“Our?!” He hissed, snarling around the word. “That is MY son! Get away from him!” Din grabbed the beskar mask and tried to pull it from you, yanking you up from the floor. “MY son does not belong to you, this does not belong to you! Who do you think you are?!”

“Who am I?! I’m your wife!”

He stopped trying to wrestle the lovingly-chosen armor away from you, meeting your eyes with his own darkened gaze. His earthly irises flickered fast between both of your own pupils, searching your face for something, some kind of reminder. A reminder that he loves you. The muscles on the side of his jaw clenched and rippled, chewing on the words he was looking for.

When he spoke his voice was hoarse, but certain, as if there would never be a greater truth than the one he breathed into being.

“No, you’re not.”

The coldness in his tone stabbed icicles in your veins and froze your mouth closed, rendering you speechless. His hateful gaze looked down to the mask still in your hands, twisting into a pained expression. “Did… did this mean anything to you?”

“Din… please…” you begged, you voice barely above a whisper, “It means everything to me, you mean everything to me!” Behind you Grogu was already starting to cry again, making the situation even worse. “I love you! I did what I did to protect you, to protect Grogu! I didn’t want those Imp bastards to take you. Can’t you see that?”

The Mandalorian laughed, miasmatic and sickly, infected with distrust. “Isn’t that just like an Imp, lying right up til the very end.” He let go of the beskar as if it was unclean, then turned swiftly around on his heel, striding to the fresher to grab his helmet from where it had been discarded on the floor. He picked it up and looked into it’s visor, almost like he was debating whether or not he could put it back on. It sank over his head with a hiss of it’s latches, amplifying his dominating presence tenfold.

You pressed on, balling your fists in determination. “It shouldn’t matter who I used to be, just who I am now. I don’t know anything about your past, all I know is who you are now, I know that you are my… ner rid-oor…”

He was on you in a flash. “Don’t make me cut out your lying tongue as well, Mando’a is sacred, I should have never taught it to you.” In one swift motion he grabbed the offensive beskar from your useless fingers and threw it somewhere behind him, the iron clanging ugly against the durasteel decking. He dug behind his chestplate and found the lucky talismans you had given him as a sign of your affection, a sign that he now decided should have been a big red flag, shoving them into your empty hands.

“You have dishonored me.”

The Mandalorian bent to pick the crying youngling up off the floor, carrying him over to the bed you had all shared. He didn’t turn around to face you when he spoke again. “Get out.”

His frigid words had you frozen in place, frozen in time. He’s leaving you. Your mind was racing, your heart flooding with sadness and grief. Words abandoned you, giving you only a whisper of your silver tongue.

“Din.. I-I didn’t have a choi-”

“GET OUT!!!” He ripped your backpack off the wall and flung it at you, making you reel from the impact. The ramp opened behind you, and you were suddenly being shoved out the door, rolling backwards out of the Crest. You scrambled to your feet, clutching the krayt teeth so hard that the edges cut your palms while you banged on the rising wall of steel.

From behind the closing door you heard a sound, faint but desperate, nearly inaudible over your own pounding heartbeat. It sounded distinctly like a baby’s cry.

“Bubu!”

-SLAM!-

The access ramp sealed shut, and a shiny silver dome appeared in the rounded transparisteel viewport where Mando was taking his seat at the controls. Imps began swarming you while the old gunship’s engines flared to life, burning like a newly risen phoenix. Poorly-aimed blaster fire ricocheted off the ship’s hull while her landing gear tucked itself up, and soon the home you had grown to know and love was blasting towards the hangar exit without you.

The Razor Crest slid through the magcon field, the backs of her engines turning bright blue as her stardrive kicked into gear, rocketing her into warp speed just as an enormous star cruiser dropped out of hyperspace, dwarfing the station with her size. As prideful and arrogant as the Empire she sailed for, she took up the starfield with the domineering presence of a ship that had once served as the Death Star’s loyal guard dog.

It could be no other than the Wyvern’s Tongue.

-ȉ̴͗t̴'̴s̶̛̓͝͠ he̷̍̂r̶̔ë̷́.-

If you had a single coherent thought left to your name you would have made a series of snide remarks to the completely useless voice that whispered in your ears. You would have fought back against the stormtroopers that were roughly grabbing you and forcing you down under the barrels of their guns. You would have ran through the station and commandeered one of the other ships that had come in for repairs and blasted off to somewhere, anywhere else.

If you weren’t so grief-stricken, so heart-broken, so lost, you would have hurled literal dragonfire at the man who was approaching you now.

The troop commander spoke first. “Sir, this one allowed the mando to esca-”

“Get her up. Now.” You were hauled back up to your feet, but your eyes stayed on the forcefield that was draped over the stars, just waiting for the Razor to come back around.

To come back for you.

Your view became blocked by a tall, thin man in an Imperial uniform, his lapel shining with an even bigger emblem of authority than the last time you had seen it. His soulless eyes bored right into yours, and you knew instantly by the look on his face that he hadn’t forgotten his favorite communications officer. “Sparrow? Is that you?”

The long abandoned nickname stung like needles in your ears, reeling you violently into the present. The admiral cupped your chin and brought your eyes up, forcing you to see him and stop pretending that he wasn’t real; that he was an apparition brought to life by your wailing night terrors. “It is. My little Sparrow has flown back to me.”

The stormtrooper braved an interruption, “Sir, the mando-”

Admiral Forescythe silenced him with a wave of his hand, “No matter, the universe has brought me something even better than whatever Moff Gideon had been after.” The glare on the Admirals face turned to a sickly smile “Pray tell, little bird, won’t you sing me a song? I’ve so missed your lovely voice.”

You shook your head from his hand and pointed to the electromagnetic cuffs that still hung from the backs of your ears, the last remainder of the beloved faceplate you had been gifted. “Hull breach, tone deaf.” was all the excuse you could muster. A stiff leather glove rose up to brush over the Mandalorian steel, and you fought every animalistic urge to go batshit ballistic, rip the admiral limb from limb.

“What a pity, but at least you can still speak.” He was standing too close now, and the disgust you felt for the man who practically raised you made your flesh boil under his gaze. His gloved hand slid down from your ear and grabbed at the bottom of your jaw, forcing your head to tilt while he inspected the bitemarks Din had put on your neck when he still loved you. “At least you haven’t been lonely, good thing I had you chipped when I did. Shame on you for letting someone defile you in such a manner, were you still on my ship I would have had them jettisoned.”

The Admiral raked his eyes over your disheveled form, from your marked flesh to your blackened eyes and your blue-stained shirt, his face twisting in disgust. “Whatever life you have been living clearly doesn’t suit you, it’s high time you cease this reckless behavior and come back to where you belong.” He bent down and picked your backpack up off the floor where it had fallen, slinging one ratty strap over his neatly-pressed shoulder; then extended a hand to you. “Are you ready to come home now, my little Sparrow?”

You blinked a few times at the question, your heart becoming as cold as stone. Home? The Wyvern was not your home anymore, and the admiral was not your family. But the home you knew, the family you loved was now lightyears away, far far away from where you were now; and they weren’t coming back.

Din wasn’t coming back.

That left only one place left for you to go.

Back... home.

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[the-last-kenobi]

AHHH YOU’RE TAKING REQUESTS 🚨🚨🚨 Okay okay uhhhhh I can’t decide between 13 or 18 so you choose! With hurt Obi-Wan and caretaker Anakin, please!

I AM INDEED TAKING PROMPTS

And because you’re amazing and I love all your writing I have decided to write both 13 and 18 into one story, we’ll see how this goes yikes.

From this various prompts list

_

Anakin moved quickly up the hallway, trying to keep his footsteps as soft as possible.

It was very late — or very early, depending on one’s point of view. The low-lights were on, and Anakin felt like he was intruding somehow, in this residential wing that was almost entirely deserted due to the war.

The damned war.

Anakin clenched his fists. I can’t afford to be angry right now, he told himself. I need to talk to Obi-Wan and I can’t start out by yelling at him.

It was tempting to lash out at Obi-Wan.

They hadn’t had a proper conversation in months, not since the Hardeen operation and everything that it had entailed, and then Obi-Wan up and vanished on some discreet mission, stopping only to ask Anakin for a ship to borrow.

Anakin had discovered Obi-Wan’s return only when Acquisitions had notified him that his ship would be late in returning to his care due to extensive damage. Flight logs indicated that his Master had returned a full five days before. Five days without so much as a comm message letting his lineage know he was back home. Nothing.

For a few hours Anakin had foundered, stewing in disbelief and anger, but as night crept in he had begun to feel something different.

Concern.

And something that might have been the Force, prompting him, pushing him.

And so here he was, silently keying in the manual code to Obi-Wan’s quarters — technically still his own, although he spent most nights at Padmé’s or in a private room.

The door swished open.

It was utterly dark.

That wasn’t unusual; when he had the chance, Obi-Wan preferred to sleep in complete darkness. He said it felt more natural. No distractions tugging at his brain.

What was unusual was the state of disarray.

There was a kettle sitting on the counter, so near the edge it made Anakin nervous. He walked over and moved it a few inches, his eyebrows flying up when he felt the weight. When he lifted the lid, it was obvious that this was days-old, and untouched to boot.

Was Obi-Wan sick? Was he in the Halls? Surely someone would have notified him. Surely.

Anakin looked around and took note of the robe discarded against the wall, the boots left in the middle of the walkway. There was an empty mug on the reading table, and a holo-still sitting beside it, as if Obi-Wan had stared at it for awhile and then set it down — the only item that looked carefully treated.

On closer inspection, it was a holo of Obi-Wan, far younger than Anakin had ever seen him, next to Qui-Gon and a dark-skinned woman he had never seen before.

Qui-Gon was in the center, facing a little to the left, his eyes on the woman, a full smile on his face. Anakin stared. The Jedi he remembered had been understated, his smiles always a little sad. This Qui-Gon looked about to throw his head back in laughter. The woman was looking down at Obi-Wan, who stood on Qui-Gon’s other side. She was nearly as tall as Qui-Gon, her hair was braided into several intricate sections; she was smirking conspiratorially at the young Padawan.

And Obi-Wan was smiling shyly back. Although his Master wasn’t looking at him, he had draped one arm around Obi-Wan, and the boy was leaning into the casual touch.

They all looked ridiculously young and ridiculously happy, and Anakin didn’t even know who one of them was. He had never heard of this woman, or why she wasn’t around any more, because she must not be, and he had certainly never heard stories of Obi-Wan’s apprenticeship. Not unless it was relevant to whatever they had been doing, or whatever lesson Obi-Wan had been trying to teach.

His Master was so damned secretive.

Angry again, Anakin replaced the holo-still and glanced around the room, thinking to check the Halls of Healing next.

Then he spotted something that made him instinctively recoil.

A Mandalorian helmet, sitting on the chair, painted in stark black and red and rendered in Death Watch’s style.

Heart hammering, Anakin picked it up and examined it, finding gouges and dents in the beskar alloy, signs of years of wear and tear.

Why was it here? Why was there a Death Watch helmet here, in their rooms? It didn’t make any sense!

His first wild thought was that the extremist group had somehow broken in, taken Obi-Wan, and left this behind. Then he mentally shook himself. That was beyond absurd.

So what then?

Anakin tucked the helmet under his arm and cautiously approached his former Master’s room, pressing the door aside slowly.

Obi-Wan was right there.

Sitting on his bed, dressed only in stained and scorched trousers and an undershirt, his head in his hands. His fingers were buried so deeply in his hair it looked as if he were trying to tear his skull open.

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin burst out without intending to, the last few hours of anger, confusion, and momentary panic getting the better of him.

Except the older man didn’t react at all.

“...Hey. Obi-Wan.”

After a pause, the man on the bed shifted slightly, and then sat up. His fingers hastily brushed his hair back into order as he did, and his face, though white as a sheet, was a perfectly blank mask.

Anakin didn’t buy a bit of it.

“Obi-Wan... tell me what’s going on.”

The man who was Obi-Wan but wasn’t acting at all like him gave a slight shrug. “There’s a lot going on, Anakin, we’re at war. What is it you needed at one in the morning?”

Well, at least he knows what time it is.

“You’ve been back for days. I haven’t seen you.”

“Ah. Your ship?”

“I’m not worried about the ship. I’m worried about you. I don’t even know where you were!” Anakin said, his voice rising again. He cut himself off quickly.

Obi-Wan frowned slightly. “I was... on leave.”

“On leave?” Obi-Wan didn’t go on leave. Obi-Wan never stopped working, hadn’t since Geonosis. “You said it was a mission.”

The older Jedi passed a hand over his mouth before speaking again. “I... it wasn’t an endorsed mission. I undertook it myself.”

A non-endorsed mission... “You mean you went off on your own?” Anakin demanded, shocked. “Tell me you weren’t chasing Maul!”

Obi-Wan went white to the lips. He opened his mouth to speak, and then he spotted the helmet under Anakin’s arm and choked on his words, falling dead silent.

Anakin considered for a moment. Then he studied the helmet again. Taking it in.

Death Watch.

Mandalore.

A personal, self-assigned mission.

Satine.

Red and black.

Maul.

“...Oh, Force, Obi-Wan.” Anakin said numbly. Thinking of Padmé. Thinking of Obi-Wan and the confession he’d made to Satine, one that Anakin had not been meant to overhear. “I’m so sorry.”

Obi-Wan said nothing.

He just stared at Anakin for a few moments before nodding his head in acknowledgement.

Anakin set the helmet down on the desk and edged closer to the bed, his eyes on his friend, wary as if he were approaching a traumatized animal. “Can I sit?”

A nod.

Anakin sat down.

“...Is it all right if I hug you?”

A very long pause. A small nod.

Anakin placed his palm on Obi-Wan’s back, then slowly moved so his arm was around the man’s shoulders. When Obi-Wan didn’t pull away, Anakin drew closer, tilting his head down to rest on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Like he had when he was younger, and his Master was the best in the Temple, in the whole galaxy, and there was no war, just missions and too much meditation and time enough to just sit like this when they were tired and overwrought.

Obi-Wan shuddered in his hold. Not repulsed, but something else. Like he was cold.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked.

His friend shook his head, but trembled harder, his breathing fluctuating.

“Obi-Wan.”

“Feel... nauseous,” the redhead mumbled, and then he doubled over, toppling head over heels towards the floor. Anakin cried out, lunged and caught him just in time, hauling his former Master into his arms and holding him, his heart pounding from the sudden shock.

“How long has it been since you’ve slept? Or eaten?” he demanded, thinking of the tea kettle.

“Mm... not since the night I got back. For eating. I don’t know about sleeping. I honestly... can’t remember...” Obi-Wan murmured. He was shivering now, his face pale and twisted with discomfort. He looked too weak to move, and he really must have been, because all he managed when Anakin cradled him closer and stood up with him in his arms was a low groan.

“We’re going to the Halls,” Anakin informed him curtly, striding out of the room with Obi-Wan in his arms, still trembling.

Obi-Wan made a noise of protest, but Anakin shook his head. “No. You need to see Healers.” He watched his friend’s eyes mist over vaguely, with grief or with illness it was hard to say. “I’ll stay with you the whole time,” Anakin vowed, meaning every word. “It’ll be fine. As soon as they’re ready to release you we’ll come right back here and you can sleep in your own bed.”

Obi-Wan mumbled something that seemed to include, ‘not a child.’

“Yeah, yeah, and I’m not your Padawan anymore. We still boss each other around. Just how it is,” Anakin said.

Obi-Wan huffed a laugh, tilting his head against Anakin’s shoulder. He took a deep breath. Then another. And then he was asleep.

“Damn,” Anakin whispered aloud. “Damn, damn, damn, you’re really not in good shape. You shouldn’t be this easy to carry, for one thing. Dammit, Obi-Wan. Why do you have to be so secretive?”

Is he secretive?

Or have I just never asked, and never listened?

Anakin honestly didn’t know, and that bothered him.

“Sleep, Master,” he murmured, adjusting his arms so that Obi-Wan was more comfortable. “We’ll talk when you’re ready. I promise. I’ve got you. We’re going to make it through this whole damn war, together.”

_