#-- *her* normal if that makes sense?? anyway. completely forgot to mention this when that was the 1st thing I wanted to say oof

[red-moon-at-night]

Survivor.

kind of a 'then vs now' comparison (idolhood vs living through everything post-idolhood) but in the same outfit.

the urge to quote "despite everything, it's still you" is very strong right now.

[diegosumbrella]

My observations from s4 of Umbrella Academy

I dont even wanna talk about the main plot of whatever the fuck that car crash of a season four was, but heres some plot discrepancies I noticed while watching Umbrella Academy.

!! Season four spoilers under the 'see more' !!

- Luther's unnecessary body change

It's stated so clearly in s1 that Luther never gained his body from the marigold or developed it along with his powers. When he was up on that mission on the moon, he had an accident and Pogo had to donate his blood which resulted in Luther having that monkey body we all know and love.

So as Luther drank that said marigold, why would he suddenly gain back the blood donated from pogo and the body that comes along with that..? It's as if the writers themselves forgot why he had that body. Why write in unnecessary body dysphoria for my poor baby?

- Diego's sudden appearance of ab's

Listen. I am the last fucking person to complain about a Diego Hargreeves shirtless scene, where you see his pecs quite literally bounce BUT why did he change so drastically from 'dad bod' to suddenly 'ripped'?

I read an article interview with Steve Blackman and saw a few snippets from a podcast that explained that David (Diego's actor) didn't want to gain weight for the role, which is totally understandable. But if you have an actor who doesn't want to gain weight for this role, why not just keep Diego as fit?

Due to the short six episodes, it's extremely easy to miss how Diego slowly becomes more fit as time progressed. For most, and also myself at first, that fighting scene just looked confusing as fuck. Like two episodes before, Lila was calling you 'tubby' (or whatever the fuck she said), so why do you have abs now?? Where did the dilf diego dad bod disappear to :(

- Allison's beloved Ray just leaving her

I'm not sure if i'm taking this the wrong way completely but... In the scene after Allison had given Klaus the marigold against his wishes, but also to save his life. As Klaus is calling out every member of the family, he mentions how he 'took care of Allison when Ray walked out'.

Like i'm sorry but the fuck do you mean Ray just walked out?? Why did he leave Allison if she had no powers. She'd clearly built a better life for herself and began to change her mindset for the better, compared to s3 she's drastically better.

It's never explained (probably again for the lack of episodes) and it's never even mentioned again. Like does Allison share custody of Claire with Ray? Does Claire even see her father? I have so many questions and once again, a severe lack of answers.

- Klaus breaking his five year sobriety

As much as us as an audience are aware of Klaus' addictive tendencies and his utter thirst for form of drug in the former seasons, but why establish that he's not only been sober for three entire years but he's also now a huge germaphobe just for him to ruin it in five seconds.

The main problem I had with this is the fact none of the siblings, including and most importantly Allison, had zero reaction to this. They weren't upset, angry, disappointed or fuck it even happy. They practically ignored the fact their brothers three year detox went out the window.

Five's ability to time jump

Before I get you all jumping up my arse, i'm fully aware I could discuss how they completely just fucked his character development and his entire personality as a whole for a shitty romance that made absolutely no sense but I'm gonna make a separate post on that because oh boy do I have some shite to say.

ANYWAY.

I can't even go into much detail with this one but why is it that every time five attempts to do his time jumps, he ends up in that subway but when he does it with Lila in that end episode.. he can suddenly just jump..?? normally?? Like why. Why can he now only just time jump as he used too. WHY WAS THE SUBWAY NEEDED FOR OTHER THAN FOR THAT AWFUL FIVE X LILA PLOT????

It's as if the writers couldn't come up with a way to get the brellies into that building with Ben so instead of using critical thinking and writing them breaking in, they just said 'fuck it make him time jump with Lila'. Like no I have questions??

[profounddestinyrebel]

Pretty much my ideal dcxdp coexisting world

Danny had all his canon happen before Bruce and the JL started their vigilante careers

Before Bruce was born or Martha and Thomas even got married

Phantom Planet never happened and the world never realized that they were almost dead in the first place (I apologize for mentioning it)

Danny retires after blowing up the portal and designing a new system of gov for the Infinite Realms (why the hell is that a monarchy anyway? Fighting being a way of communicating AND the way of determining a ruler does not make sense so I'll choose the better one)

Danny still visits the Infinite Realms but mostly lives his life

He still has interesting things happen to him but more because he apparently has a curse placed on him than anything else 'may you live in interesting times'

Danny manipulates the curse by getting into situations on purpose and then resolving them without getting attention drawn to his civilian id and normal life

He keeps track of immortals and big names that deal with death magic so as to lower the chances of being summoned

The more powerful the Realm Being the more powerful the summoner has to be to summon them and with how powerful Danny is there aren't many he has to keep an eye on

Ra's has been losing Lazarus water at a steady rate for over a decade but only now has it become a noticeable loss. The day the that he notices is a Very Bad Day for the League of Assassins (the day Danny lets himself get caught satisfies his curse for 2 whole months)

Danny hasn't aged much at all since he left Amity at 17. He's still short but mimics the effects of age with stage makeup and other tools used by actors to look older they actually are. This is how he meets a certain Alfred P. who remains a good friend even though they never really meet in person.

His parents blow themselves up and wipe their house off the map when tinkering with a device designed to lure realm beings to them. Danny isn't really sorry they're gone. He finds out after leaving Amity that he wasn't really their kid and he wasn't even adopted. They made him in their lab while distracted from their obsession with ghosts then completely forgot they had done so when they refocused on ghosts. His growth chamber (terrible name) was coated in ecto which allowed the device to reactivate and allow Danny to finish incubating into a toddler then (suspicious) it mysteriously popped him out before his the fentons noticed the growth chambers success.

His parents never took any notes on the clone experiment out of the house due to it being a (perceived) failure. After going back to their ghost obsession they completely forgot about it so no one knows. Jazz only found after Danny told her and he only found out after growing older and continuing to look less and less like either of his parents.

Danny finds the notes and that's what inspires him to leave Amity, to start looking for his bio parent. The Fenton's had no clue that the clone they grew was Danny. They dismantled the growth chamber when Danny was four (actually two) and never realized that the toddler they adopted was the clone of wonder woman they made. They never said anything to anyone about Danny being adopted so Vlad has no idea that Danny isn't Maddie's child.

Vlad starts to age drastically after the portals are destroyed and Danny figures out that Vlad isn't a halfa after all. He's just a normal ghost who can prey on people like spectra but with an obsession directed at Maddie originally and then Danny. Afterwards Vlad gets shunted off into Walker's prison because of all the toxic and human crimes he's committed among them brainwashing, mind control and mind wiping various wealthy and not so wealthy individuals into giving Vlad their money and companies.

Ellie has to explore the Infinite Realms (literally Infinite though so she's not confined) only because she can't really produce her own ecto. She has to absorb it from her surroundings so she can wander safely all over the Infinite Realms (so long as she calls for help when she gets in over her head) but not the human realms unless she takes a buddy who can produce a steady stream of ecto for her.

Vlad makes Danny his heir so now he's rich enough to travel even after giving all the people Vlad stole from their money back. It turns out that Vlad was good with making more money once he had it.

just Danny being a crptoid for the entire magical community and them being unable to talk about it if they even know of him

while danny runs a NASA and space account where he talks about NASA's recent achievements, newly discovered stars, planets and new alien races that Earth has been in contact with

[articularreview]

⚠️Spoilers for Shinrei tantei Yakumo - the lamenting doll file 03 and the epilogue⚠️

Here in case you missed it

I just read it and spontaneously wrote this.

Be careful if you haven't read it yet.

The file starts with where it left off the last time with them deciding to locate Mahiro's mother.

I kinda forgot about it since we haven't seen Isshin for a while, but this volume reminded me of how much Yakumo is influenced by Isshin. Be it the way they talk or sometimes even their mannerisms.

It's pretty much a given that they'll have to stay another night at the hotel but that would mean Haruka will have to stay in that creepy ass room again. Isshin really told Yakumo “accept the situation or sleep with her”😭😭😭

But sadly It's just like Gotou said, Their relationship label won't allow it smh

Gotou's snores and Isshin's bad posture are KILLING ME. My mom entered the room while I was having a fit of laughter I just looked crazy to her 😭

Isshin is so chill he doesn't care if you try to make him look bad. Rather his hilarious responses made Gotou look silly for complaining. Poor Gotou-san. Maybe I should learn from him... Unbotherement sure is powerful~

Anyways I guess that means Yakumo is the only one who sleeps normally hahaha

Just like I expected, Mahiro's death is weighing Hiromi down. kinda knew it from file 02, but hearing the details from Masae made me want to cry. No parent should ever go through this.

And so they split into two teams: team Gotou and Yakumo. and team Haruka and Isshin. All I'll say is that the latter team sure is a good match.

And then we have Gotou-san who not only has to put up with Yakumo's comments but also got a Salary cut too!! He suffered too much this trip. Imagine wanting to skip work only to get dragged all the way to a whole different prefecture. Still kinda his fault for ignoring Ishii smh.

Speaking of Ishii I'm happy he and Makoto were mentioned even though they didn't make an appearance. Isshin's mere presence made up for any other character's disappearance. Kaminaga-sensei is a genius for mentioning Eishin too. I think references like that will increase in the complete version. Knowing the future and the direction of your work sure makes a big difference. It was really interesting knowing that Eishin was the one taking care of Nao when Isshin's not around. Nao must really miss Isshin even if she doesn't show it on her face. I head canon afterwards Nao being overjoyed to see not only Isshin but Yakumo and Haruka too after his two-day disappearance.

The scene when that madman dragged Haruka gave me the chills. Kaminaga-sensei using TTCM as a reference sure was brutal I ended up imagining it. Haruka did her best till the very end but the situation was hopeless. She can't even resist. her mouth, legs and wrists were taped. And on top of that he had the audacity to slap her! How dare him! If that man wasn't charged with attempted murder after all this I'm throwing hands!

In the end the case was solved and we find out that Takahiro-kun was the one talking to Hiromi all along. It really broke my heart knowing that all this time he didn't even know he was dead and yet played along to try to comfort Hiromi who was mourning for her child. What a strong kid. He and Mahiro are.

The lamenting doll huh... makes sense.

In the epilogue we learn that Yakumo can't handle hot food which I thought was really cute.

Tbh his whole food preference was quite unexpected. First we learn that he has a sweet tooth (Which Haruka thought doesn't suit him at all lol) and then a similar situation to the one in the epilogue happened in vol. 7 iirc when Yakumo was (again) staring at the sake and when Haruka asked if he can't drink he stubbornally tries to only to spit it out. This man just can't be honest😂 I actually really respect men who don't drink or smoke so that's a flex~

Now some of my favorite Yakumo lines which for some reason all happen to be verbally abusing Gotou (Can't blame Haruka for laughing because c'mon how could you not?)

• “You can say that because you've never heard it yourself. Compared to Gotou-san's snores, even a train would be quieter.”

• “A member of the police stating that he'll be driving under the influence? Japan is finished.”

• “I'm saying bears can't understand the taste of wine. What if someone made up a new proverb: bears and wine.”

• "I don't want to waste any more calories than this."

• "Well, that's not surprising. A bear with damaged taste buds such as Gotou-san will never understand."

Bye I'm using these irl.

I'll also add these two because I keep remembering these two exchanges and laughing:

1)

"I see. If you don't want to, it's fine. But please stop bringing cases to me from now on."

"This and that are a different story."

"No, it's the same thing. Ah, that's right. So that Gotou-san will stop bringing me cases, I'll be reporting to the police that you've been leaking investigation details to a civilian."

"What!? Don't joke with me! I'll get fired if you do that!" Gotou shouted in panic.

"Good then. That way I won't have to involve myself in cases that have nothing to do with me, and taxpayer money won't have to go into paying the incompetent Gotou-san; just like killing two birds with one stone."

"What did you say!?"

"Isn't that great? This way, Gotou-san can also play around to your heart's content. So it'll be more like killing three birds with one stone," said Yakumo, grinning as he looked at Gotou.

He really stabbed where it hurt. Having been commented like that, Gotou wouldn't have a way to refuse. "Fine. I'll help. Happy?"

Gotou lifted his heavy bottom up from the sofa reluctantly as he sighed. Yet Yakumo wasn't done with his counterattacks.

"Not really, it's fine even without Gotou-san helping."

"That wasn't what you said earlier!"

2)

"Sorry about that. Could you please tell me what I should do?" Gotou asked formally while swallowing his displeasure.

"You should know if you listened to the story"

"I'm asking because I don't know."

"You should have if you paid close attention to the whole story."

"Well I don't know!"

"Is that something to be proud about? Good grief.”

Too much Yakumo😂

Volume 11 is up next. I'm really really excited for this one because Unkai and Miyuki are one of the best antagonists I've ever read. I'll never forgive them for what they did to Yakumo but their back stories are very very well written and explains how they ended up that way. That last arc will wrap everything up. I remember reading the book description a while back but Laute's translations stopped at the time so I thought I'll never read it.

The day has finally come!!!

[thewebcomicsreview]

Homestuck 2 updated, and thank Christ there's an option to skip to the chapter select this time. Let's see what we got

Year Four. Presumably we're doing 20-odd years total to make Vriska middle aged like everyone else, though I wonder how this'll read archivally when you can select the chapters out of order. Vriska is now ~20 years old, talking with Nannasprite.

I presume "Her" is going to be Terezi, but I'm actually a little mad we're skipping over the Eridan/Vriska part, if only because I think the entire fandom forgot Eridan and Vriska dated.

I wasn't sure what I expected from Homestuck 2 today, but it wasn't "Vriska and Jane talk about pregnancy".

You know, that's kind of an interesting angle. Nanna was raised by the Condesce and then her "brother" ran away to become an Englishman.

Is that :B the first instance of Nanna doing a Jane quirk thing? They are the same person, after all, so I guess it makes sense. Speaking of offscreen conversations I'd like to have seen, Jane meeting Nannasprite would've been cool to actually see. I suspect this whole conversation is setting up to contrast Nannasprite with Candy!Jane to try and figure out how one became the other.

Oh, wait, hold on. This whole thing is Vriska's character arc condensed, so I think what they're really getting at is connecting "maternal instincts" or whatever to Vriska's long-established habit of trying to make her lame friends into hobbies. Is that the connecting throughline here? Vriska just wants to be a human mom?

What a weird angle to take here, comparing Jane vs Nanna as a not-super-subtle metaphor for Thief of Light vs Normal Kid Vriska.

Nanna Egbert says to touch grass.

Also, I get that Nanna's husband isn't relevant to anything but the more she talks about her decision to give up ideas of revenge and start a family the more notable it is that she never mentions him. Maybe Dad Egbert was created in a lab and that's why he's the same in both timelines.

Anyway, moving on to Mindfang's journal. I'd completely forgotten that was the item for this chapter.

Oh, interesting. Why is there a crack in reality here? I guess it's supposed to be a spiderweb, but it's got that hole in the middle like the cracks in Paradox Space. I thought this was (Vriska) for a minute.

Also interesting, Mindfang doesn't have a "Mindfang:" in front of her text, the words just appear, like when Dirk or Al control the story directly. Mindfang, or more specifically her journal, is the destiny Vriska's been chasing, so I guess this makes sense as a followup to the Nannasprite conversation. Vriska can never be well-adjusuted until she stops treating pirate fanfiction as a religious text.

Uh. Is Mindfang being combined with Spidermom or what the hell?

Well, that was answered quick.

Oh, this Janus design is pretty sick.

Ah. Okay. I see. Vriska was talking to Nanna about why Nanna became a mom, and this conversation is helping her realize how abusive and shitty both of her own mother figures were.

These sprites are fantastic.

There's not a lot to line-by-line analyze here, the basic gist is that Vriska, like Nanna, abandons her desire for either reconciliation from or revenge towards her abusive mom and just quits. This is the update where you can most feel that James Roach worked on Stephen Universe, but I mean that in a good way. A decent update.

[hikennosabo]

trimax volume 6 random thoughts

chapter 1:

oh, hey, it's the guy from the 98 anime!..... or not?!

i'm not keeping track of this TOO closely, so there may be other instances of this that i missed, but the guy from 98 episode 1 also showed up in trimax chapter 7. it makes me wonder if nightow provided character designs/ideas to the 98 team, or if it's the other way around and he decided to incorporate anime-original characters into the manga. either way: neat!

HAVE I MENTIONED I LOVE MERYL, BY THE WAY.

i love the bits of characterization we've been getting for her. she (and milly) are our tie to humanity, after all

i must say it is nice to have a goofy fight after... all that in volume 5. and before... the rest of volume 6.

chapter 2:

aaaand now we start the next chapter with wolfwood's nightmare/flashback! hurts just a little bit! (the trio IS kinda serving tho ngl... when you have a fashion show at 7 but need to terrorize the orphanage at 6)

^ completely and 100% unironically, they were in love here.

i just... ugh. this is such a vashwood chapter. the absolute trust and fighting together completely seamlessly, they are just. ugh. ughhhhh. this kind of trust just GETS to me.... sorry. i'm normal about them. i'm NORMALLLLLLaauughghghgh

ANYWAY. chekhov's table made me laugh

i am physically restraining myself from going crazy over vw again as i reread this chapter to write this post.

anyway anyway. ww calling himself "nicholas" is cute :)

just kidding one more vw comment as a treat

HE'S SO IN LOVE. FUUUUUCK.

chapter 3:

legato continues to be fascinating to me. i'm observing him like a bug in a jar. which is appropriate, considering...

WHEN I CALLED HIM A BAGWORM IN THAT ONE POST I WAS JOKINGGGGG I WAS JOKING!!! THIS MADE ME LAUGH FOR LIKE 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT WHY DID SHE HANG HIM FROM THE CEILINGGGG IT'S SO FUNNY

this is actually making me fucking cry.

...i got so distracted laughing at bagworm legato that i almost forgot to say literally anything else about the chapter, but anything else i have to say mostly boils down to "wow, legato is such a freak (affectionate)"

also, whenever something that was in tristamp is brought up i feel like the leonardo dicaprio pointing meme. like "oh hey, i know this!" going into this manga with prior knowledge from stampede is... an interesting experience. all that being said, i can't WAIT to see more of the manga version of double fang. oh nightow we're really in it now

chapter 4:

oh, finally, FINALLY!!! last volume i asked where the knives nuance was and now we're FINALLY getting some knuance, thank god. seeing knives react to just how badly humans treat plants is SO effective. and we're not even up to the juicy part yet. it makes me want to eat glass.

speaking of eating glass.

i thought something like this might've been the case, but still... this hurts to read.

i want to eat glass!!!! fuck!!! this reveal is so insane, it's like monkey's paw of "this is a way knives can be defeated, but by the same method, vash is closer to death than knives is." WE don't want vash to die, and neither does knives, and this chapter is the first (and possibly the only, idk) time the reader's feelings and knives's feelings are... well, aligned. at least in a sense.

chapter 5:

this chapter is really something, because it starts off almost seeming like another lighthearted "we're in a random town fighting a goofy enemy of the month" romp much like the early chapters were, heck like chapter 1 of this very volume. but it's just wearing the skin of that. which is, y'know. the thesis of this entire chapter. smiling to hide the pain and all that.

i don't think i can really... articulate anything of substance. the chapter just kind of... speaks for itself, i think.

although i DID laugh at ww trying to enjoy his noodles and failing, and also the phrase "needle-noggin-isms." thanks for providing some levity, we actually really do need it.

chapter 6:

ohhh boy we are REALLY in it now!!

i enjoy seeing knives ponder like this. legs crossed, arm slung over his face... i don't know. maybe it's because i myself sometimes lounge in this pose.

what exactly is he thinking about, i wonder. that in awakening/forcing vash to use his powers, he unintentionally pushed him closer to death? maybe? i don't know. either way it's very on-the-nose for what their relationship has been like.

and then of course we cut to this shot of vash, looking in a mirror created by knives's slice

this shot is making me think a lot and i'm reading too much into it, but- obviously the reflection puts vash's beauty mark on the opposite side, so there's the knives resemblance, so also, i suppose vash must see knives every time he looks in the mirror, right? also vash looking at his reflection featuring his own black hair- which we're all still thinking about... i dont know. i dont even know if this is anything LOL. i feel like i have the dots but i'm failing to articulate the connection. anyway

this made me laugh. thanks for the levity again, wolfwood :)

BECAUSE WE'RE GONNA NEED ALL THE COMIC RELIEF WE CAN GET, BABY!!!

maybe i'm just insane for this because it's Generic Party Imagery but the specific combination of rem flashback + party popper + funny glasses makes me think of the similar scene in 98 when the seeds crew celebrates finding planet gunsmoke. like is this another instance of nightow nabbing stuff from 98 or am i just making things up.

the twins are so cute and baby knives smiles so much, i want to microwave myself.

knives wants to believe in humanity. man. MAN!!!!!

what comes next... i'm absolutely carrying my prior stampede knowledge into this, but fuck, man. fuck. even then, i know that stampede didn't show everything, so i don't even fully know what to expect. which is fun! but i can't believe the volume ends right in the middle of the flashback, MAN!!!

[shkika]

I'm starting to think this is making yur wrist WORSE with all the typing /lhj also also also type as long as you'd like its so fun reading it all

Anyway that makes a lot of sense actually like.,.,,..wow man rainworld is really?? Sad when you think about it god

I wonder if moon felt any sort of obligation to be how she was towards fp aside from being the big sister etc, like maybe bc he was built to like carry her population something like that I think its silly how she spoke so badly of the ancients but then when fp ends up doing something she's so much more like understanding I guess it shows how much she does really care

Maybe her anger is driven more towards what she could have done herself alongside being mainky the ancients..She seems the type imo like......maybe she should have started the communications faster or maybe if she had done more he wouldnt have felt the need to work with the rot in the first place or maybe that she didnt even really figure something was terribly terribly wrong in the first place?? Itd be cool I think if she was only so patient with fp actually like...... she was faster to stop forgiving with other iterators or anything really, but I think as you said way earlier she'd just be a little passive aggressive or something and that'd be enough for her probably

I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT THE ROT BEING GOSSIP MATERIAL that must've messed pebbles up like so so SOO bad. Like first off he failed he did what he never wanted to do and then it just gets spread around?? As conversation?? Like wow. Wow wow wow thanks I guess. Ok.

Speaking of suns too I wonder do they regret telling pebbles (someone highly impressionable at this point in time and someone looking for ADVICE) the whole bug situation, like it feels as if they were kind of just venting out some of their own frustrations rather than truly truly meaning it but then again suns is such an odd creature why are you so mean to this guy he looks up to you so much be NORMAL

On a much lighter note though his intrigue(special interest/j) with the history and like poetry the ancients had is so silly I think I wonder would he have ever rambled about it to others like more in depth than what he tells artificer

Hopefully not!! I really need these lazy hands to work!! bahah

I’m having fun you’re aall good ^^

I have a lot of hcs about Moon I’d like to explore in an ask blog I hopefully open soon >> especially her relationship with ancients, her group and five pebbles in particular hoopefully. She’s a really mild person, because of the way she carries herself, but has a lot to her character. At least I like to hc her that way!

She does feel responsibility over Pebbles, but I doubt she ever blames herself for the situation which they ended up in. I also doubt the responsibility felt forced to her!

Or well I at least enjoy the hc that she loves thinking herself as a big sister! She likes to dote on people and help out when she can. Though her approach does end up being one where she holds your hand a lot (not for proud iterators oops!!!!)

Also passive agressive moon…? yes…. just yes. we deal with anger by looking at you wrong bahahah

The rot was gossip material it is very upsetting!! but a little funny! Not to mention how iterators reffered to Pebbles I found myself snickering. “The near Looks to the Moon” like alright sheesh. People also tried to contact poor Pebbles i think! Not just his local group! Imagine how stressful that is.

Suns feels like that one nihilistic atheist guy with a big ego who overshares his opinions a lot and thinks the world sucks and has like unchecked anxiety.

But that’s probably just me hehe. I think Suns and Pebbles had fun being hateful little goons and then Srs dropped his depressing opinions which.. aren’t even fully wrong. Isn’t it sad. Pebbles ended up exactly in the way which srs described. Something he was so afraid of he gave himself the rot over </3

Suns is a silly goon to me. A critter I contain in my jar.

And yes!! I’d love to know what more Pebbles has to say about art and culture! Mmmm more content please yum yum!! His painting analysis was super cute.

[chidoroki]

182 Days of TPN - Day 28

Chapter 28: “Concealment, Part 1”

Safe to say that without Ray’s photographic memory the outcome to this entire story would be completely different. He even mentions that one wouldn’t normally be able to notice anything strange about the house. The farm’s secrets go under Norman’s radar at least, and he’s supposedly the smartest kid the plantations ever seen. Unless you make an attempt to escape like Isabella did, the truth of the house is more than well protected. With the exception of Ray.

A recent ask brought to my attention how very likely it was Sarah who handed Ray over to Isabella, and considering the Grandma’s have access to information on which kids the moms & sisters give birth to, I gotta agree and say that it was such a bitch move on her part. Like she knew she blatantly handed Isabella her own son to raise as demon food and that’s just so evil. The only silver lining is that this choice, coupled with Ray’s infantile amnesia, eventually leads to her getting killed. Serves you right, you old hag. I can sympathize with most of the moms & sisters in this story, but definitely not Sarah.

Ah, when was it that I mentioned the three different takes on the Ray/Isabella deal flashback? Ch14 when Ray was telling Norman I think? Well, turns out I forgot it’s mentioned again in this chapter, so.. oops, make it four occasions that we see this deal happening. This flashback brings together the other three quite well I think. How Ray calmly offers the deal is reminiscent to ch14, Isabella’s brief shock is a tease to how we see her react in ch37 and the cuts on Ray’s ear is a nod to ch181.5 when we eventually learn how he broke his tracker with a stick.

If you listen closely, you can hear me start to sob.

The way Ray essentially created a taser from various old technology and toys on the sly over the course of six years will never not be impressive to me. I wish we got to see this tech-savvy side of him more. Such a shame it never gets used for its intended purpose though.

Look at them, both lying with those huge smiles on their faces. Isabella certainly raised a handful of wonderful actors. Also, I just noticed this looking back at ep9, but the plates they have Sherry drop are plastic? which makes a little sense I suppose. If the house doesn’t have actual knives, then why have real plates that you could break like this and use to stab someone, ya know? Anyways, once again love the little detail of the kid’s reactions between who knows the truth and those who don’t.

Hmmm, I dunno whether I prefer Isabella’s malicious and all-knowing glare in the manga or her calm, fake smile in the anime. Both are dangerous.

It’s adorable that Phil placed one of his trains on Emma’s empty seat.

Favorite panel/moment:

The way Dominic drags a devastated Sherry back into the panel so she can say goodbye to Norman.

[leojurand]

house of niccolò reread rambling thoughts: niccolò rising edition (part 2)

70% into the reread so i have a couple more thoughts about this book!

(which i'm enjoying a lot but man, if this were one of my favourites i would have a thousand things to say at this point... but we'll get to that eventually (in book 3))

2.1: the introduction of THEE dunnett fmc

this part of the story is mostly focused on bruges and nicholas's relationship with the charetty business and specifically marian. tobie and julius completely disappear, which is a shame! i really like tobie's role in the story; he's a great supporting character for nicholas. and i love julius, somehow! following him now, after finishing the series and knowing, is so much more interesting too.

but anyway, the character we get to know in this part is gelis!! marvelous gelis. she's such a funny teenage girl. i completely forgot her first scene with nicholas is them skating together and nicholas imitating people and telling her jokes... no wonder she was obsessed with him after lol. the funny part though is gelis interrogating nicholas's lovers after to know how he's in bed 😭 what a menace.

after rereading her scenes in this book i really don't get the review calling her a philippa knock-off? their roles are completely different and, no offense, but gelis has an actual personality lol because she has more than one scene!

my favourite part is her confrontation with nicholas in chapter 29, for many reasons. i love that nicholas comes out swinging, because he doesn't do that with anyone else! he always tries to tell people what they want to hear, and he turns up the charm. he did that with gelis too, at first. now it's almost like he thinks she's too smart to fall for it. there's also this:

“Now stop poking into my affairs and remember that I can hurt your sister a lot more than you can hurt me.”

★ gelis will remember that

2.2: it's a lovely morning in bruges and you're a horrible claes

one of my favourite things about this book as an introduction to the series, and especially as an introduction to nicholas de fleury, is that we get to see claes living his life in bruges, like a normal boy. we learn about his pranks but we also see them, we see what his neighbours think about him. we see him hang out with his friends, who aren't very good friends, unsurprisingly. i was happy to notice sersanders, who has a small role in to lie with lions, actually being nice to nicholas. he defends claes when felix is unfair to him; he helps claes take off his ice skates; it's sweet!

and it's little details like this that make nicholas feel very real to me. like he had a life before the series started, and not just a backstory for the readers to wonder about, but an actual life. it's very good! compare that to lymond in the game of kings. we don't see his day to day, we don't know how his life looked like in scotland. which makes perfect sense, but it creates distance between lymond and the reader, i think. nicholas feels more like a friend.

(something similar happens with gemini vs checkmate, i think, because in gemini we get little scenes that show the de fleurys' life and their bond as a family and it's beautiful. we don't get that in checkmate because everything is a mess lol and i think that's a shame)

tl;dr: i love getting to see nicholas being a normal boy being a menace in bruges, i think it humanizes him a lot, which is very important because of everything he's going to do in the future.

i probably could say more about what i've read so far but this is, once more, so long... so i'll just talk about whatever i forgot to mention here in the last part, when i finish :)

[livecharliereaction]

manga ep2 big post part 2/?

this art style is kind of crazy ANYWAY. Ughhhhh. Somehow this too is about yasuda gender. Its so. Endless gender for the endless witch

Made jessica cry. Jessica im so sorry

completely forgot this is like A Rosa Episode lowkey ouhhhhh In the end. I love her too. But thats just because i can see...

COLOREEEED PRETTYYY oh shannon kanon counter but its just them and genji too

she said witch beatrice shes so fun i love her another fave-since-ep1 for sure

Keeping an eye on her and genji as well. Ugh. And nanjo too.

Hardest two in all of life <- i typed this sentence then looked away from the puter to talk to family for 2 secs and looked back and realised it doesnt make any fucking sense but i agree

Whys this art style making him look crazy cool well hes cool in ryukishi too but its like lame-cool this is like well i dont know

most normal girl ever

thank god for the love that i can see with because she is so evil. maybe its pretty privilege too Oh but rosas pretty and yet i hated her at one point. Idk something about eva is just. Ughhh

NOT sure about her btw im interpreting it as yasuda playing with her and marias fun and kanon here is kinda just hoping to get a perspective But also could be a lot of her doing play-pretend based on like A few interactions. I have to take a big look at mariage sorciere when its more relevant i mean itll be talked here but other eps too

BADDIE. Why i kinda like this style so much?!!!? Anyway easy to explain why rosa can see her (yasuda felt bad for little maria and dressing up. ill have to look but that might be the distinction between the two outfits)

Study door handle burned her hand i guess its because kinzo shouldnt be seen right now

SHES MENTIONING HOW KANON DOESNT HAVE TO BE FURNITURE ANYMORE I FORGOT ABOUT ALL OF THAT SHE KEPT PROMISING IT BUT I NEVER REALLY UNDERSTOOD. OH MAN

Exact same rank...

Lol gohda is so. Such an inoffensive character all in all? He does NOTHING for us. Or maybe i just dont have the love to see it. Like what his role is in the big picture. Hes just there. I dont think thats a bad thing though

Its so fucking good. Makes you wonder though. About genji kumasawa and even nanjos motivation to let her do her thing... Because kinzos supposedly already dead, are they really so loyal to give him his "redemption" despite that...

He says he never met her though and he doesnt think they had a child. Ugh.

maria keeps saying crazy things shes so funny light of the party

sayo. Ohmmmmm. I think the translation team changed cos the other one had her tell him her name is kiyo no? yeah i checked she definitely told him that. thats interesting

shes so funny i love her sense of humor its so great. Anyway one of the most iconic scenes in this ep commence

shes sleeping guys no shes meditating

girlslove

u crazy

I FORGOT ABOUT THIS BEING HERE OH MY GODDDDDD OK OK OK OK

i remember being a little confused when i first read on why tf they were focusing so much on the locked rooms but thats the thing now. and besides how else would u approach it well i dont know

its all about the closed rooms and the closed (cat)boxes etc

i need her . When her demeanor and appearance are partially specifically tailored for battler to like her Well call me battler cos it works. It does make u feel a bit bad though doesnt it

he doesnt like the rule though hes all zen zen dame da about it

shes got the gun and shit shes taking chargeeeeee.... queen

oh hell show UP ALRIGHT seriously one of my fav scenes to this day and this is like what ep 2

eughhhhhhh ughhhhh uhghhhhghghh well Yyeah To be fair with the truth and all im still not sure how it was done something something kumasawa or whatever its conceivable

they draw her so strange (good)

Omg its just like ep6

GIRLSLOVE

battler asked rosa how she can prove shes not a wolf Ohhhh girl. Hey maria. Im going to be the father that stepped up

[no-droids]

Home

gif credit: @javier-pena

Part Eighteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.5K

Warnings: SMUT, religion kink (maybe?), squirting, consensual stalking/pursuing, canon-typical violence, mention of underage drinking, uhh I believe that’s it but as always, let me know if I’ve forgotten anything please!

A/N: Hey yall!!!  So I know this chapter has been a long time coming and though I’m not completely satisfied with it, I hope it brings a little happiness to you for an hour or two while you read!  School has been kicking my ass and I’ve been in a bit of an emotional slump recently, but I pulled a few all-nighters to post this on time and it’s finally finished!  Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me and sent me encouraging words over the past month or so, I hope you enjoy the end of the Sanctuary arc💕

Also like last time, part 2 of my collaboration with @followwhereshegoes will be posted after the chapter!!  As a reminder, sweet girl is a reader insert and every imagining of her will be different—this is Lisa’s interpretation of her and her artwork is absolutely gorgeous, so please go give her a follow!

Day 5–11:13am:

You zone out again in the early morning, but that happens a lot.  Din always keeps you up so late, all the time, and without any caf here, the rising sun just makes your eyes droop instead of flutter brighter and wider.  You helped a bunch of younglings find their way into their robes when it was still dark out, tying sashes and fitting masks while holding back your yawns.  The walk into Nariss is close to three hours, probably more with all these tiny little legs, and you almost forget to change into your new digs before everyone grabs breakfast.

Even though your ragtag entourage leaves for Nariss just as soon as everyone finishes eating, you don’t reach the city until nearly lunchtime.  Mostly because the kids walk about as fast as the elderly holy women chaperoning the trip.  You and Naydee lag behind the group, forcing yourself to meander slow as fuck when you nearly sprinted this same exact path just a few days ago.  On the way there, you listen to children of all sorts sing happily as they walk, chatter about their excitement for the parade, complain about wearing the fabric mask they made themselves, and more than once, somebody takes a tumble onto the ground and is left in teary sniffles and dirt stained clothes.  Likely for this reason, the robes are designed to be two pieces—a long tunic with a hood and a separate pants portion to prevent tripping instead of a draping skirt, but the smallest ones are clumsy and find a way to fall anyways.

It’s a colorful bunch—a chaotic rainbow of babies running around, and you share easy conversation with your new friend about the plans for the day until she asks something that makes you nearly trip and join the dirty robe club.

“Sister Drya said your family is meeting you in the city,” she tells you, ignoring your immediate subtle toe stub and the awkward shuffle you have to do to make up for it.  “There’s going to be lots of people downtown, I’m worried it might be hard for them to find you.”

Your heart thuds in your chest and you feel a bit short of breath at being abruptly confronted with the need to lie, but at the same time, you kind of love it.  Having a secret, hiding the truth from others, and just the reminder that you’re almost guaranteed to see Din and the baby before midnight pours warmth and tingles through your tummy.  Everything together is a hit of spice, filling you with a kind of excitement that used to be foreign to you.  Having fun, experiencing new things isn’t quite over yet, but home is calling and you miss it with every fiber of your being.

“I don’t think so,” you eventually respond, hoping she can see your kind smile and the sentiment it carries even as light, shimmery fabric wraps right around your mouth.  “If I disappear, you’ll know why.”

Naydee’s eyes crinkle in the corners to match yours.  “Hopefully you’ll be able to see the fireworks first,” she nudges you, her skin glowing against the pale cream fabric she has wrapped around her own mouth and the hood laying delicately over her braids.  “They start at eight.”

The fireworks, you almost forgot.  You know what?  Today is a good day.  You hear yourself think the full sentence multiple times, and the words put a spring in your step after every single one.  The road gradually becomes wider and filled with more travelers, and you feel safe in the back.  Like some kind of sheepdog bringing up the rear of this migrating cluster of children, making sure none of them drift off by themselves and start eating grass or something.

Surprisingly, the kids manage to be relatively patient and well-behaved once they’re in line at the gates.  The Sisters shuffle them along one by one as everyone moves up slowly, taking even longer to get into the city than it did a few days ago.  The entrance is packed already—so many people visiting for the festival, and they’re all dressed in costumes or robes of sorts, or at least a mask.  Most are beautifully crafted, but some manage to look slightly scary even with the soft springtime color schemes.  It’s a completely different world, a different life for each person as you pass them by.  Your stomach is starting to growl by the time you finally make it to the front, and luckily the guards just let the kids through without any ceremony.  Just you and the rest of the caretakers in light robes need to hold still for the retinal scan, matching each other perfectly except for differing shades of fabric, skin, and eye color.  Once the gates open for you and you step through, though… it’s… Maker.

Extravagant, magnificent are both words.  Floral is another.

It’s like they hung up bouquets wherever they could think to fit them, and this is just the edge of the city.  As the group moves through the streets and closer to downtown, it becomes more and more overwhelming.  The air itself is a warm fragrance wafting all around you, sunshiney and breezy and perfect, flowers of all kinds lining the modern buildings and archways like they were planted there from the very beginning and it just took this long to bloom between the cracks in the concrete.  You wish you had names for all of them so you could list them—the only thing you can offer is the color and vague descriptions of the ones that stick out to you.  Tiny yellow ones that are so small, they need to be bunched all together in massive quantities to even resemble normal flowers.  Up overhead, elaborate arrangements of enormous blue and purple and pink ones, wrapping around each other and hanging down from rooftops.  Some don’t even have petals, it’s like they’re big green cups that are big enough to hold things inside them.  You’re fascinated by every single one, wanting to stop and smell them all individually but needing to keep up with the large group and not allow any stragglers to be left behind, including yourself.

About an hour later, when you’re almost in the middle of the city and there are people everywhere, it’s time to eat lunch.  There isn’t much to it because of how expensive it is, and you’d normally feel bad for accepting the small meal each one of the children gets, but you donated all of your credits to the Keja and left absolutely zero for yourself.  Good intentions, terrible idea.  Still, you pull your mask down and snack on some deliciously fried food, trying not to eye anyone else’s platter after you finish yours.  It’s so good and it’s gone in an instant; you couldn’t even say what exactly it was besides which stall you got it at.  Whether it’s just the brilliant atmosphere or if the food on this moon is really just that good, you’re not really sure, but you’re still slightly hungry afterwards with no extra money to sneak a snack.

Soon after, the kids all line up to get their faces painted, or whatever portion of their face is visible behind the cloth masks and hoods they’ve got on, and music blares from at least four different directions and none of the songs are even in the same language.  Depending on the part of town, it seems like the celebrations are all different.  It makes sense, considering most if not all of these individuals were victims of the Empire’s wrath, spread far and wide across the galaxy.  Here, they’re free, and they want everyone to know it.  Spring festivals of some sort are likely common for most cultures, at least those from planets with seasons, not like Arvala-7 where it was arid and hot year-round, and you’re assuming there are multiple things being celebrated today depending on which street you live on.  There’s chanting in different tongues, dancing and drums, outfits and masks from different cultures every single time you look.

At some point, the children spot a crowded street with flowery rails set up all along them, and you stand behind the tiny heads while everyone waits for the parade to begin.  You think your heart has just been beating slightly faster than normal all day today, but when you finally hear the sound of sirens blaring in the distance and cheers begin to pour out from the gathered crowd, it kicks up and you feel like you’re just as wide eyed at the spectacle as the waist-high babies all huddled together up against the railing.

A flurry of people and things pass in slow succession.  First, New Republic officers with their blaring holobikes, bright orange as always.  Then come large groups of people walking behind banners in languages you can’t read, some of them waving, some of them making different sounds and songs.  Bands marching in formation, dancers in dresses and masks and gorgeous flowers in their hair like crowns, and then brilliant hovering vehicles decorated in bright colors and festive depictions.  The craftsmanship and cultural significance is stunning to witness, it’s so insanely loud, there’s so much going on, and yet…

Through it all, you think of Din.  No matter the faces, the sights you see.  There’s someone juggling.  There’s either a very tall man and woman walking together or they’re both on stilts.  There are enormous balloons being led through the air, people are riding atop an assortment of animals you’ve never seen before, there are traditional costumes and spectacular stunts being performed.  Stalls with games and prizes line the stretches of concrete on the cross streets, people are laughing and celebrating and drinking in equal parts, everything is so lively and festive and fun, and yet, though it all, you think of Din.  Him and the baby, they’re always in the forefront of your mind, occupying your thoughts and making your tummy stir more and more as the time passes like the parade in front of you.  You don’t think this environment would ever be his favorite, and in some far away galaxy, perhaps if you lived other lives together and called a beautiful moon exactly like this home, then you might have to drag him out to see all the with you and the kid every year.  You’d have to bat your eyelashes and kiss his cheek and snuggle up to him all nice and pretty like, and he’d probably grumble and complain about it while wrapping his arms around you—all the people and the noise, sweet girl—but he’d go.  For you, he’d go.

Your thoughts suddenly stop short and you blink for a second.  Why… Why was that scene so vivid?  So wistful?  You used to preoccupy yourself with fantasies about Din all the time, back before you even knew him as Din.  But in every single one, it was sexual and likely came from a place of boredom, a lack of external stimulation.  Here you are amidst bustling surroundings, and you’re daydreaming about domesticity with him.  Why?  You want to travel the galaxy, right?  You want to see things you’ve never seen before, right?

For some reason, you think of the floor, and you miss it.

***

Day 5—5:04pm:

It’s late afternoon at this point and nobody can find the teens.

More people have made their way into the city and it’s starting to get extremely fucking crowded, especially where you are downtown, and the handful of them must’ve slipped away with all the excitement happening and how difficult it is to keep the young ones together now that the parade is over.  You don’t know how long they’ve been gone—one second they were walking around just slightly detached from the rest of you, you assumed because the boisterous younglings fucked with their cool vibe, and then the next Naydee is gasping out to you that they’re gone.

“Sister Drya is going to kill me,” she hisses, her dark eyebrows furrowed in self-admonishment and stress.  So many fucking people here, you know her pain.  “I was supposed to be chaperoning them, they were just here—”

She shakes her head under the loose, cream-colored hood, groaning and then speeding up her gait to catch up with the woman in charge, but you decide to grab her wrist before she can relay the bad news.  

“I can go find them,” you offer, speaking as low as you can with the blaring noise surrounding you.  “Before anyone knows they’re missing.  Is there a way to convince everybody to stay in one spot for a little while?  You won’t get in trouble, but I need to know how to find you again.”

Naydee’s eyes widen in surprise, and even though it’s likely a bit out of character for you, you have a feeling it’ll be a deceptively easy task.  Even with the masses right now and how atrociously big this city is, you already have a general idea of where they’re likely to be.  Besides, you’re not even sure your absence will be noticed if Naydee is the only one who figured out the teens were gone—the other Sisters can thrive without you while missing anyone else would be noticeable, and you owe your new friend a thousand favors for helping you out these past few days.  The least you can do is save her from the scolding of one of the scariest old ladies you've ever met.

“Be as quick as you can,” she finally agrees.  It’s a lot of trust to put into you, but you’ve had experience in reading the most unreadable man in the entire galaxy, some teenagers shouldn’t pose too much of a problem.  “If you’re not back in thirty minutes or somebody notices, I’ll have to say something.”

You nod, silently breaking away from the group without another word.  You think you can hear her announce to everyone that it might be best to eat dinner now to skip any long lines later—smart—but you’re out of their hearing range and line of sight almost immediately.

***

Day 5–5:17pm:

“Really?”  You raise an eyebrow since they won’t be able to see the way your mouth is twisted up underneath your mask, crossing your arms and tapping your foot against the ground to further illustrate just how not fucking impressed you are.

Seven teenagers freeze, and slowly—depending on how much bravery they can individually muster—they turn around on their stools to face you.  The atmosphere in the tavern is bustling and cheery, booze being passed around a large crowd that laughs and mingles, but your vibe is stone cold and quiet.  The contrast doesn’t feel wrong on you like it normally would; the negative and disapproving energy you’re emitting makes you feel powerful, untouchable, armored and strong.

“How did you find us so fast?”  One of the twin boys squeaks out behind a light blue robe, sounding worried.

“Had a hunch,” you grumble, glaring sternly at each of them in turn.  Your tone is dry, your voice sits lower in your throat when you’re pissed off.  All you had to do was look for the closest bar that doesn’t have any orange jumpsuits poking around waiting to card underage younglings, it wasn’t that difficult.  “You’re not exactly unpredictable.”

“Are you gonna rat us out?”  The other twin asks you, in a voice that’s oddly deep compared to his brother.

“I should,” you snap, quickly reaching out to push their drinks away.  “I should let Sister Drya rain down her holy fury on your asses, got good people all twisted up over you for nothing and I’m missing dinn—”

You don’t know why, but you suddenly cut yourself off and jerk upright, spinning around.

The sounds of glasses clinking and boisterous voices fill the bar, but they seem to fade out for a second.  Your eyes fly around the crowded space, your heart lodged in your throat and looking for anything reflective.  Every flash you see is a false alarm—belt buckle, wristwatch, cocktail shaker—

He’s here… isn’t he?

Only, there’s nothing.  Nothing is out of place, nothing jumps out at you the way you’re assuming it will.  You’re braced taut and ready to bolt at the first sign of a chase, but it never comes.

It’s so… unexpected, this feeling.  It’s not like you’re being hunted anymore, but instead, you’re the hunter.  You’re feeling the weight of him from this far away and it’s like he’s calling for you to come find him, teasing the wild adrenaline rush you get from just feeling his presence, as if he absolutely knows it happens.  Whispering soft in your ear and then vanishing the second you’re able to turn around, like he’s here but he’s not.  Playing with you from so far away.

This… this is a taunt.  

The whole thing at the inn was leagues below this, that was rudimentary.  Teasing, getting even, having fun with each other, whatever you want to call that, that’s what it was.  This is scarily sophisticated.  Fluid and practiced and the best kind of frightening, stark and dangerous compared to the carefree and upbeat setting surrounding you.  You’re not making it up, it’s not just you being paranoid.  You know him with your eyes closed.  You know he’s here somewhere watching you, just like you know the starlight that streaks across the pitch black horizon of hyperspace.  Not because you can see it, not really, not directly.  But because by it, even in the vastest and darkest and emptiest of voids, you’re suddenly able to see everything else.

“You okay, Nerida?”

The volume gradually comes back up and you blink, suddenly remembering where you are, who else is with you.  The chatter becomes slightly louder than it seemed before.

“Yeah,” you eventually say, slightly airy while continuing to stare emptily at the crowded room.  He’s not here, you don’t think, not anymore at least.  But you’re not stupid, you know what this means.  You’re already caught, there’s nothing you can conceivably do that will delay the reunion for the next—you look down and pull the loose sleeve up to check your communicator—seven fucking hours, there’s no way.  He’ll pull back and follow you, keep up with you from a distance and then snatch you away right when you let your guard down.  You at least need to get the kids back to their guardians before that can happen, though.

“Let’s go,” you quietly tell the group of foundlings, grabbing elbows and hauling them out of their stools.  “Naydee was the only one who knew that you were gone when I left.  Here’s to hoping she managed to keep it that way.”

***

Day 5–5:32pm:

Against all odds, you’re able to rally the wayward teens and successfully lead them through shoulders that are beginning to move closer together as the crowd grows and grows.  You stay towards the back and don’t look behind you once—not only do you not want to give the younglings an unnecessary reason to become paranoid or to question your actions, but you can still feel Din lingering.  Moving like a shadow, probably fitting in perfectly with the masked festival-goers, nothing drawing any attention to him with all the spectacular sights and noise occurring.

Soon you return to the same spot from before, and you and the teenagers seamlessly integrate yourselves back into the rest of the group without anyone noticing a thing is out of place.  When you move to stand beside her, Naydee’s bone-deep sigh of relief is palpable even behind the concealing fabric; she squeezes your hand incredibly tight in a silent gesture of thanks, and then pulls something from the deep pockets of her robe and passes it to you sneakily.  A purple fruit.  She must’ve saved it for you.

Maker, fuck yes.  It’s not much but it’s more dinner than any of the seven troublemakers get, but Naydee quietly assures you they’ll be able to eat something once they return to the Keja around midnight, just not the tasty expensive treats they’re selling at the vendors.  As the sun goes down, you try not to stain your pretty fabric a deep maroon as you chomp and feel your lips start to curl upwards.  It sounds so fucking stupid when you put it like this, but you keep going back to Din and revelling in knowing that he’s so close, like you’re just mentally checking in on him.  You don’t get the sensation by thinking, though—more like you just focus really hard on your heart and feel him there just a second afterwards.

Is that how pure, stupid, shameless love feels when you’re completely entrenched in it?  It’s not like it’s surrounding you, it’s not suffocating you or making you float.  It’s just a thing.  Like… a thing inside your chest, a physical thing you can search for and find, something you can point to on your body and say it’s right here, this is where my love for him lives.  Right at the bottom of your heart, right where it curves and beats strong when other hearts meet flat at sharp angles.  You do it over and over again, reconfirming its existence every single time.  You don’t know what else you’d call it.  Love is the only word.  To love, to know.  To hold in the heart.

Soon, you start to notice that people are slowly moving around your stationary group.  You look up and watch the crowd begin to walk, some of them giving soft smiles to the cute children as they pass by, but all of them following the same unspoken direction.

“Where is everyone going?”  You ask Naydee, standing on your tiptoes to watch the crowd migrate like a giant system, an organism or mechanism of thousands (or tens of thousands?) of smaller moving parts all traveling in tandem.  It’s fascinating—you’ve been to crowded places, you know what it looks like when a lot of people are packed into one area, but you’ve never seen what it looks like when they all move together.  They would normally be bumping into each other, slipping in between, fighting and never really getting anywhere, interacting individually and thinking separately.  Now they’re progressing in one single direction, so many with the same mindset and understanding of what comes next.  A second parade, almost, with New Republic officers directing the flow of pedestrians as they pass.

“The eastern part of the city!”  Naydee yells over the noise and points, and beyond her extended finger, you can barely see the light of a dusky body of water in the distance beyond the buildings.  “The fireworks are going to go off over the bay, but it takes awhile to get there!”

“Is…”  You blink for a second, suddenly caught off guard, trying to think back to the holomap the concierge pulled up at the front desk of the inn.  Surely you would’ve noticed it, but your sudden childlike hope makes you ask anyway.  “Is it part of an ocean?”

Naydee shakes her head.  “A really big lake!”

Your shoulders drop just the slightest bit in disappointment but still, you ache to see it.  You can’t even imagine—the fireworks are likely going to reflect across the water, giving everyone double the view.  And luckily, after all the children and caretakers are individually accounted for, you start to behind the slow-moving crowd towards the docks you know lie beyond.  

Naydee scurries ahead to keep the kids together, ushering them forward and preventing any drunk passer-bys from accidentally stepping on them, and you quietly bring up the very rear of the entourage.  You take the time to observe more than anything, walk in the back and experience instead of trailblaze.  So many people, so many stories to be told, so many differences and diversity around you.  Your face is partially concealed and you don’t move your head too much, just your eyes.  They flick around to take in everything, the crowd thinning little by little as you make it out of the confined space downtown.  You’re able to make out full bodies and outfits again instead of just heads and shoulders, allowing you to breathe just a bit easier under your mask.

And then at one point—and it’s almost a little startling because it happens all at once—the organizers must decide that the sun has officially gone down, because the lights come on.  All of a sudden, paper lanterns and bulbs flicker into existence all around you and the world decides it wants to glow, glint and twinkle from the inside out.  They’re everywhere, draping across rooftops and tangled around street signs and stuffed into the flower bouquets overhead, raining soft colors down on everything.  You’re in complete awe, trying to keep walking but also needing to look at as much as fucking possible in the suddenly luminescent city.  It’s so colorful, so vernal and warm and you feel like you’re… Like when you took a shower on the Crest for the first time and spent a few happy moments just playing with the water and soap for your own enjoyment, it’s as if all the brilliant rainbow of colors the bubbles would make under the fluorescent light decided to surround you at the same time.  You’re inside stained glass, blinking at the flowers and wondering if Din can even smell the air or if it’s filtered, processed and reduced to nothing under the helmet.

And that’s when you see him.

But with the way your chest rapidly constricts and you can count your heart beats as they pound, blaring white noise through your ears and adrenaline through your veins, it’s like he's just allowing it to happen.  You immediately understand that you don’t have fucking anything the second your eyes land on him; this isn’t a heads up that you caught wind of early, it’s not a gift or an advantage you’ve incidentally gained over him that you should be thankful for.  Being able to see him directly like this, being able to make out all these fucking details from this far away…  This just feels like you’re being informed of the endgame right before it comes.  If you were anyone else, if you were a real bounty and this was a real hunt, his armor glinting and reflecting the lanterns overhead would feel like a knife you're about to be on the wrong side of.

You have a decision to make, very quickly.  Either keep in this same direction, head straight towards him and just pretend like you are who you’re dressed as, a random caretaker for a bunch of rowdy foundlings during a spring festival on Nariss, or disappear.  Drop back, move through the crowd and use the distance you have between you right now as your only hope of getting away in time.  Neither one gives you a particular advantage—your chances of being caught have already skyrocketed exponentially just being able to see the reflection in his armor, the hovering shield at his side with big black eyes… staring directly at you.

You almost trip over your pantlegs, gasping.  Baby.  He beams at you and you think he calls out through the passing crowd, his tiny arms extending out, and your chest feels like you’re pulling organs as if they were muscles, cramping up and seizing with emotion.  You want to run to them even though you’re meant to be running from them, call out over the noise and wave even though you’re not supposed to.  You want to hold the kid again, squish his little forehead with kisses, walk around with Din’s hand pressed against your lower back and see the fireworks with him.

Your hands clutch at the draping fabric covering your chest, pulling and twisting it uncertainly.  What do you do, what do you do?

No matter what, you know it’s over.  Keep your head down and try to move past him, or break away from your group and try to escape—both are different paths that lead to the same result.  What’s the point of running when he’s the one chasing you?  The heart-pounding thrill is the only reason you’re even considering it, but his body stands so tall amongst the crowd, not moving while people ebb and flow like a river passing around him.

Except then you can hear his voice repeat the last thing he said to you in person as if he says it directly into the comm in your ear.  When you do see me… try to outrun.

You should run—run, it’s better than just hoping he doesn’t see you when you already know he does.

Unless…

Out of a trillion different possibilities, you soon realize that there is exactly one situation in which this could turn out in your favor.  You can immediately picture the scenario in your mind, but there’s just too many variables to conceivably rely on getting them all right.  This maybe has a… two percent chance of working?  Maybe?  Everything would have to go perfectly, just fucking flawlessly, but what other choice do you have?  Two percent is better than whatever odds you’re dealing with now.

You walk silently behind the group of foundlings as you approach closer and closer, keeping your head purposefully down as they skip and giggle and dance ahead.  He knows you’re here—he has to know, you’re counting on him knowing.  Walk right in front of him, pretend like you don’t see, make sure you keep left.  Keep left, keep left, keep your head down, keep your head down—

A leather glove suddenly catches hold of your wrist hard enough to tug you backwards.

Your gasp is audible over the sound of the crowd and you spin around, jerking your head up to look at him in fear.  Your heart slams as the beskar reflects your mask and hood back at you—you’re terrified and it shows, you can see it in your eyes.

You quickly try to yank your hand away, even as your index finger stretches up towards the communicator around his wrist.

“Miss Nerida?”  A child’s voice cries, and then small hands grab at you from behind as you bury the urge to actually fight him.  Your instincts are demanding you attack when his grip is this strong, but you just whine and struggle, slapping weakly at him with your free hand and feeling more of the younglings begin to pull at you, their high pitched voices calling more and more attention to the scene.

Your gaze flicks to the side, suddenly landing on a pair of New Republic officers helping direct the thousands of moving bodies from the closest street corner.  They’re looking at you, pointing and beginning to speak into their own comm units.  Din’s helmet snaps sideways to follow your gaze, and then he’s immediately dropping your wrist and stepping back, retreating as quickly as he caught you.  Though you don’t want to—though you don’t want to give yourself away even more, you want to pretend fully that he was a complete stranger and the children were right to try to help you get away—your eyes fall to your son in the hovering crib by his side and you feel yourself crumble just a bit.

Just a few more hours, kid.  A few more hours.

Children pull you away while your pursuers both disappear into the crowd, and you quickly turn to soothe the tiny babies instead of chasing after the one you miss so terribly.

“I’m alright,” you tell them, scooting them up and encouraging them to continue walking.  Blend in, blend in, don’t let anybody think anything is wrong.  “Come on, we’re fine, come on, we have to catch up.”

They take your lead as soon as one of the caretakers turns around and sees the small group crowding around you.  You think she asks what happened, but you just tell her a man mistook you for someone else and nothing more comes of it.  She’s able to settle the chaos better than you are, and by the time you’re continuing to travel forwards once more like nothing happened, the communicator suddenly flicks on in your ear.

“What did you do?”  He breathes out, his footsteps moving fast through his voice.  He’s traveling much quicker than you expected—is he still being followed?  The officers are gone from your sight, they might be going after him right now, weaving between bodies and calling out to the perpetually vanishing glint of armor as he navigates his way out of danger.

You look down at the comm on your wrist and your heart nearly soars with victory.  It worked.  It worked.  You just have to outlast a bit longer, don’t draw any extra attention to it—he’s preoccupied and he certainly doesn’t sound happy, but you hope that’ll be enough to make him slip.  Use his frustration to your advantage, let him think the only thing you were successful at was momentarily escaping him.

“The cops weren’t part of the plan,” you admit quietly, keeping your head down as your loose hood billows in the twilight breeze.  “Don’t get caught.”

There’s a few moments of just his breathing, his footsteps, and the noise floor humming through the comm, before he finally responds.  “You look beautiful.”

You stare unseeingly down at the concrete under your feet, still feeling your hand tingle from where he caught you.  The line abruptly mutes on his end and you just keep moving forward, onward, wanting to look back but knowing he’s already long gone.

***

Day 5–5:24pm:

Din is fucking furious.

He had you.  You were right there, right in front of him, and even if he hadn’t been subtly trailing you all day, seeing the red footsteps get covered and flicker out of existence just a few moments after you make them, he would’ve recognized you anywhere.  In black and white, in the fading light, with your face covered, children calling you by a different name and attaching themselves to you like they’ve known you forever—doesn’t matter, he would’ve known you.  Your eyes have always given you away, always so expressive and starry and soft, but able to see right through solid steel whenever you look at him.

But then you slipped from his grasp, and then more guards pushed him further and further away from you.  They must all be in constant communication, because every single jumpsuit he sees immediately spots him and starts following.  It’s fucking exhausting, and he thinks of you the whole time.

He waits in a dark alley with the kid and taps the side of the helmet a few times to bring up the time on his comm, but then relaxes just slightly when he sees the hour.  It’s earlier than he thought it was, he’ll be able to find you again.

Though, something tugs at him while he’s looking at the clock ticking away in front of his eyes, counting down each second that passes.  There was… a moment.  Back in the square, when he was holding onto you again, when you were looking directly into his once more—everything in his helmet— 

No, he shakes his head while the kid looks up at him curiously, it can’t be.  It was just a split second, it was gone so fast.

But he can’t get rid of it.  Though there’s no explanation, he thinks the display screen flickered.  The sky behind you looked different for a single frame, your footsteps weren’t bright red and visible anymore, your eyes weren’t grey and he stopped wondering what shade of fabric you and your friend decided to choose for you to wear.  It was silvery, he’s almost certain.  Like his armor, it only reflected the color of everything around it.

Color.  Everywhere.  Bursting for a blink of an eye, and then gone just as quick, before he could actually figure out what it really meant.

***

Day 5–6:59pm:

This water is quiet here, but it sparkles.

It doesn’t ever really get truly dark thanks to the enormous hanging moon and ringed gas giant dancing with Sanctuary II, constantly reflecting light back onto the surface and reacting with some of the trace chemicals up above the atmosphere, and you think the sky just might be the prettiest you’ve ever seen it.  Must have something to do with the equinox, the glimmering angles of light being played with by celestial bodies in this stunning system, but it’s a dream.  The Maker apparently couldn’t decide which colors he wanted tonight so he just splashed all of them together all at once, let them run and blend like ink in the gentle water below, like the various people who call this moon home.

That view in front of you, coupled with all the flowers and lanterns lining the streets behind you, and you’ve lost track of time the exact same way you hoped Din would.  You think you’ve stood for about an hour or so in this one spot, half-listening to excited chatter from the babies, mostly just gazing across the stretch of water and being able to just barely spot the docks in the distance, but it feels like it’s only been minutes.

You check your watch—the fireworks should be starting any second now.  You don’t know what to expect, just that in your experience, explosions tend to be loud.  You've decided you’re not going to plug your ears, though.  Tummy twisting with nerves and another inexplicable feeling you can’t quite put your finger on, you resolve to experience the unknown exactly the way it’s meant to be.  Fully, without worry or fear.

Then, lacking any warning or ceremony whatsoever, a single flare launches silent and high from one of the small boats skimming the bay, and the crowd seems to hold its collective breath as the dim light disappears into thin air for a split second, before—

It’s… quite possibly the most dazzling thing you think you’ve ever seen.  So shamelessly decorative just for the sake of it, not serving any other practical purpose besides celebration and visual spectacle, and you’ll probably never know another extravagance like it.  You grew up with dust pelting against tired eyes, you never thought they’d get to reflect such gorgeous bursts of color back up at the sky, glassy and childlike amongst a group of equally wide-eyed children.

As expected, a deafening boom follows closely behind the singular display, but just witnessing it is incredible enough to make you forget to brace yourself for the sound and you jump almost violently in response.  There comes a loud cheer from the people standing around you, a few delighted gasps and children who decide now is the best time to start crying, but then more flares begin to launch from the boats and the subsequent show will sear itself into your memory to replay over and over again.

Still, you think the endless sky and dark water below would have to light on fire to stop him from coming to mind.

Din.

You click the comm on, continuing to stare in stunned awe but wanting nothing more than to hear his voice right now, feel his hand rest on your lower back and the kid’s three fingers squeezing one of yours while the stars rain down from above.  You’re only continuing to run from him because it’s expected of you, that’s the reason you’re here, but it’s becoming harder and harder to argue with yourself.  “Do you always see in black and white?”

It takes him just a few seconds to respond, but he always does.  “Only when I’m tracking someone.”

The loud booms can be heard over the earpiece, happening maybe a second after they crack and sparkle above you.  You can’t tell if the latency is due to the electronics or if he’s just that far away from the source of the sound itself, but… you don’t think he is.  He feels close again, like he could just walk up right next to you any second, or maybe that’s just how he always feels now.

“Does that mean you haven’t seen the sky here?”  You ask after a moment.  This whole time, everything has been grey for him?

“I saw it,” Din murmurs, and even though it’s quiet and explosions are thundering loud enough to deafen more sensitive ears, his quiet voice somehow breaks through it all.  “When you left the Crest, I saw it behind you.”

For some reason, you suddenly feel like crying.  Whether it’s the way he phrases it or the sentiment in the words, you’re close to tears without even knowing why, looking up at the sky illuminating spectacularly.  He says it like he wasn’t the one who parked on this moon and told you to go on without him.  “Can you… turn it off for just a second?”

He takes a second, before clarifying for you.  “I turn it off and I lose your footprints.”

So that was the ultimatum.  He doesn’t want to turn it off until you’re back with him again.  Does he not understand?  Does he not know what you know?  Maybe you just happened to feel it first, this overwhelming physical sensation inside you whenever you think about him.  It’s like the exact opposite of a hole in your chest.  And it’s so odd, so counterintuitive.  Being comforted in his absence, feeling him with you when he isn’t.  Falling in love in the dark, knowing him without ever seeing him.

“You never needed them,” you say, reaching up to pull your mask down under your jaw and chin for a moment, wanting to freely breathe the freshwater and flowers while stars explode and fracture across the sky.  It’s a truth you’re acknowledging, something you’ll carry with you, something you fundamentally own at this point.  “You’d find me without the helmet.  And I’d find you.”

The fireworks continue to bleed into the water beneath them, multicolor splashes rippling into existence and disappearing just as quick.  You could’ve never imagined a more colorful, magnificent landscape—besides your waterfall on Naboo, of course.  That was a pure product of nature though, a place hidden away and untouched by people, completely sacred.  Light refracting against mist, natural glass that would shatter under your weight.  This is a celebration of life and family.  Loud in a different way, affecting you in a different way, but just as wonderful and touching.  A cultivated paradise, designed to be beautiful and safe only because they wanted it to be.

“Think so?”  He asks softly.  He sounds so deep and warm, but… a little distant.  You’re able to hear it in his words.  You don’t know why, though.  Doesn’t he believe you?  Perhaps… perhaps this isn’t The Way.  Perhaps this is part of a completely different oath, one where knowing and loving somebody isn’t the same thing as looking at their face, not at all.  Where you can have them exist entirely separate from each other, because this is love.  This is real, enduring, bone-deep love, and you haven’t ever seen his face, so how would he explain that?  How would the Mandalorians reconcile that?  You bear the mark of the mudhorn, you’ve moved through time and space with him, you’re a mother to his son, and you’ve never seen his face.  It defies both the Mandalorian oath and traditional understandings of love, or it meets them right in the middle, depending on how you look at it.

“I know so.”  For the first time, you think you might sound more confident and certain than he does.  Maybe he doesn’t fully get it yet, but then you suppose he’ll just have to trust you.  “Will you look at the sky?”

“I see it,” Din tells you, but you know he doesn’t.  Not the way you want him to.  And stars, you just want so many things for him, don’t you?  The sky, fresh air, water, light, food, rest.  You want him to see the galaxy the way you do—have a new appreciation for the gifts that are given just because you’re alive to experience them.  All the physics and mathematics aligned perfectly for it to happen—all the chemistry, the systems, the dynamics that dictate the universe, they all got together and crafted a world where you, him, and the kid all exist together at the same time.  You want him to know the significance of that.

“With color?”  You ask, knowing his answer before he seems to.

“I…”  Din wants to argue, or at least say it again.  He can’t or he’ll lose you, he already told you he doesn’t want to turn the setting off.  It’s such an unnecessary conflict, but you want to respect it so much that you’re willing to give up things of your own to make it happen.

“How do I fix it then?”  You whisper, so desperately wanting this one thing for him, this one grandeur to behold.  How do you fix this problem?  How do you convince him to look with you?  You’d offer to just go and find him instead of continuing to run away for the next few hours, but you know the show will be over soon and you don’t have much time left.  “Do you want me to come look for you?  It’ll be too late by then, you’re too far away.  Look at the sky.”

It’s silent for a moment—truly silent, even though colorful bombs are going off above the bay.  You don’t know why you’ve attached yourself to this so strongly, but it’s almost devastating when you don’t get a response.  You look away from the spectacle for the first time in an eternity, gazing unseeingly into the crowd of onlookers with a sudden sadness taking hold of you.  He won’t look, he’s too stubborn, he holds onto things too tightly.

But then, a flurry of flares start launching in rapid succession from the distant boats, screaming and crying on their way up and then igniting into showers of light, and the abrupt increase in activity manages to catch your attention once again.  This must be the end, they saved the best for last.  Every corner of the horizon flashes and sparks, and you’re mesmerized at how bright it is, how many colors they’ve managed to fit into one single frame.

“It’s beautiful,” comes his voice, and the smile that you break into feels just right for the brilliance of the view above you.  Maker, it is, isn’t it?  Now you can hear it—he sounds like he’s looking at it too, with color, in all its breathtaking glory, and you feel like you’re flying.  Like he picked you up and let you watch up close, like you can feel his armor under your fingers right now as he carries you through the sky.

It swells up inside you, a rising wave similar to the ones you can see in the distance, and you know you probably shouldn’t say it because it’s not in your best interest to say it right now, but you have to say it anyways.  It’s an unknowable compulsion, a need to connect and communicate directly with him but for your sake, not presently, not at this exact moment in time.

Luckily, you mute your comm just in time and simply give the words to him from very far away.

“Hurry up,” you say, sending the sentiment into the sky with all your love, and the conflicting hope that he won’t take the advice until a bit later on.  “Come and find me.”

***

Day 5–7:37pm:

After the fireworks are over, people start to drift off in separate directions, clearing the traffic and congestion from the streets around you.  Someone puts their hand on your shoulder and you blink a few times, spinning around and almost stepping on a bunch of tiny little feet by accident.

Stars, that’s a lot of children.  They’re all crowded around Naydee, who pats a few heads and almost buckles under the younglings clinging to her leg.

“Figured you would be long gone by now,” she grins at you from behind her mask, and you’re reminded to pull yours up over your face just from looking at her.  “It’s late—we’re going back to the Keja.”

“Oh, shit,” you breathe in surprise, but the noise of the gradually dispersing crowd manages to cover it up.  At least from younger, more easily distracted ears, but you think Naydee hears you.  Her dark eyes roll good-naturedly, looking happy but exhausted from the long day.  You’re going to have to say goodbye now.

“What happened to your family?”  She asks after a moment, and you think she’s being careful with the way she says it, likely because family is a difficult topic to navigate in general around some of the children hanging on her and begging for her attention.  “Have you been in touch with them?  If not, I’m sure you can come back with us.  It’ll be late by the time we get there, but at least you’ll be safe.”

You open your mouth to automatically decline her offer, knowing Din is still in the crowded city looking for you and wanting to stay where there’s lots of people.

But then… well, he would expect you to do that, wouldn’t he?

There’s more people here.  More danger, but better places to hide.  It’s the obvious choice, it’s the one that makes the most logical sense.  But you’d also be completely alone and you’re assuming the only reason he hasn’t snatched you up yet—which you know he could’ve done multiple times by now, is likely because you’re with a group of innocent foundlings, moody teenagers, and very stern older women.  He probably doesn’t realize you’ve told them about him and the kid, though you were slightly vague on the details.

It’s also a little over three hours to get back, but you’re banking on it being closer to four with how whiney and tired some of the small voices sound, others sounding like they’re an enormous sugar rush contained into a tiny little capsule.  Would he have the gall to try and get you right from under their noses?  Will he even know you left the city, or will he assume you made the smartest decision possible and simply account for it ahead of time?  No, you're overthinking it, just make a decision and stick with it.

“There’s also free food,” Naydee shrugs while you’re still considering, but… well, that settles that.  Almost three days of friendship and she already knows exactly how to win you over in the end.  Sustenance for your empty tummy, an escort the entire way there, and heavily guarded walls beyond.  Din will have to get creative in response—you flaunted your imagination for days, coming up with dozens of evasion tactics to outlast him, but this one just seems… incredibly practical.  Exploiting a weakness of his—isolating it, having it be reinforced by precedent, and then taking advantage of it.  You bet he’ll catch on, but still, it’ll make it more difficult for him, and you’re grasping at straws to hang on just a little longer.

“I…”  Quick, come up with something.  You clear your throat.  “The city is too crowded, I haven’t been able to find them.  I could just… tell them where I’m headed and see if they can find me along the way?”

Naydee smiles and nods.  “Sounds perfect.”

Yet, the entire walk back… you keep thinking you’re going to feel Din trailing behind you, waiting to feel the nerves twist in your tummy and your palms to sweat, but you don’t.  You keep glancing over your shoulder and then down at your wrist, needing to talk yourself out of addressing him through the comm to let him know exactly what the plan is.  You like maintaining a sense of secrecy from the new characters you’ve met on your adventures—Naydee, Karga, Peli—almost everyone you’ve been introduced to, you found a way to find a subtle enjoyment in hiding certain things from them.  But with Din, you don’t have any walls.  They crumbled nearly a full year ago when he silently pushed a cauterizer in your hand and took his armor off for you, and you’ve felt the inexplicable need to bare yourself to him in return ever since.  It would be to your extreme detriment to do it now, but you still have to fight the urge.

Even if you don’t feel him following, you still find yourself acting like he is.  Constantly turning back to double check the road behind you, drifting off in the middle of shallow, distant conversations with tiny foundlings who can’t tell the difference, keeping towards the middle of the pack this time to avoid being picked off towards the back.  The belltower at the orphanage is loud and will ring for quite a distance, so your timing has to be utterly pristine for this to all work out.  You eye your comm the entire way there, trying to stall just the right amount to avoid any realizations or fall into any traps he may be setting for you.

You eventually leave the city walls far behind you, and now you have no clue where he is.  You lost him, and maybe that’s why you feel your heart beat insanely fast the whole time.  He could be anywhere now.  Behind you, adjacent, parallel—you can’t decide where to look, but it keeps you wide awake and focused while the group tiredly travels back to the temple.

***

Day 5–11:32pm:

You can see it in the distance, the brick buildings slowly coming into view.  One might think your stress would have worked itself out by now, been brought back to a manageable level after four hours of walking, but you’ve been on red alert for the past hour or so.  Any movement or rustle that doesn’t come from the sleepy children or exhausted caretakers, you’re on top of it, snapping your attention to the offending tree or animal and not being able to relax even after affirming it’s just nature, it’s not shiny metal bounding after you in the darkness, ready to take you down.

The infants are all likely snoozing away in the nursery, and the Sister who volunteered to stay behind and look after them comes to greet the group at the gate as you approach.  Like always, two Brothers open the iron bars to allow you inside, and you feel the anxiety dig its claws into your tummy.  If Din is going to get you, this is the very last moment to do it.  These walls are guarded and you’re nervous for him, you’re nervous for yourself—you’re just fucking nervous.  Jumpy and worried, not being able to pinpoint him anymore and feeling all the more anxious because of it.

It doesn’t feel right.  Nothing feels right about this, but you can’t figure out specifically what’s wrong.  This was the exact plan, this was a way for you to just survive these last few hours and yet, it doesn’t feel right that you actually succeeded in doing so.  It doesn’t make sense that he’d allow you to return all the way here, especially when he was close enough to touch you earlier.  Din has had so much time to snatch you up, so many opportunities to lure you away, confront you—anything to catch you, and he hasn’t done it yet.  Why?  Either you truly did escape and he has no idea where you are, which doesn’t feel right, or he’s choosing not to get you for whatever reason, which also doesn’t feel right.  What’s he waiting for?  You can’t have won.  It was all too fucking easy, you’re expecting to see him around every single corner because he should be there, he shouldn’t have allowed this to happen.

When someone gently touches your elbow, you’re so on edge that you nearly whip around in surprise.

“Sorry!”  Naydee immediately apologizes, taking her hand back to lift her hood and remove the mask covering her face.  “Didn’t mean to scare you!  I was just going to say that the commissary is still open,” she offers, and you watch the small group of hungry teenagers break off from the group to make their way there.  “It’s going to take awhile to get the children ready for bed, so we’ll be in the dormitories if you need to sleep.  Otherwise, I’m not sure I’ll see you again.”

You stare at her and blink a few times, trying to readjust your focus.  She’s your new friend, she just said this was likely the last time you’ll see each other, but you can’t stop thinking about Din.  Imagine he’s hours away in the city right now, still looking for you.  You’re trying to evaluate your priorities here, but you truthfully never expected to get this far.  Inside the gates, surrounded by brick buildings and silent guards.  You know your way around here, you know hiding spots, you know how to outlast—it’s incredibly advantageous for you to be inside these walls.  What is he doing?

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you give Naydee a quick hug and she happily accepts it.  “I’m sure we’ll meet again at some point.”

She smiles and nods, pulling back and letting a couple grumpy foundlings catch her robes and yank on them impatiently.  The loud group eventually disappears into the dorms, and the door shutting behind them cuts off the tired crying and chatty voices determined to stay awake, leaving you in silence that feels slightly unfamiliar after going without it for so long.

Fuck, you just need to breathe.  As soon as the dead quiet grips the air around you, you realize you need to relax.  You’re way too fucking wound up; you want to bolt at the smallest thing and the sudden silence of being alone multiplies it to the point where you have to remind yourself of its importance.  Breathe.  Focus.  There’s about fifteen minutes before the bells ring, fifteen more minutes and the chase will be all over.

Can you eat?  You thought you’d want to, but you think you’re too fucking antsy.  You can’t stay here alone, that’s for sure, but you also don’t want to be around all the children right now.  The commissary will have a handful of people wandering around, teens snacking and maybe a Brother or two standing guard.  It’s the best place to wait the clock out, so you make your way there.  The gentle breeze billows around your loose robes, your pantlegs swishing as you walk.

A few minutes later, you’ve got a plate of food in front of you but your mask is still up, and you’re just sitting there.  Towards the back of the large room, sitting by yourself at one of the tables and staring down at your communicator.  Five minutes.  You have five fucking minutes left before he finds you.  Can you feel him?  Is he closing in?

You sit up a bit straighter, taking a deep breath.  Focus on that feeling from earlier.  The presence in your chest, the weight that didn’t used to be there months ago—focus on that feeling and branch it outwards.  Can you feel him?

Something catches your eye.

Or no… it doesn’t, does it?  Nothing is out of place here, nothing is visibly wrong or amiss.  The only thing that’s changed from all the times before is how dark it is through the windows, and how there are only a few kids in here grabbing a midnight snack instead of being packed like usual.  Nothing else.

But there’s… there’s an acolyte in the far corner, standing guard with his back to the wall.  It’s not his presence that gives you pause—you expected him to be here, there’s always been at least one present whenever you’ve sat down to eat.  He doesn’t look any different from the rest of the Brothers you’ve passed by this evening or the days before—tall, silent, dark brown robes, hooded and mysterious—so why do you suddenly feel yourself break out into a cold sweat as soon as your eyes land on him?

Bubbling laughter and chatter echoes through the large room from one of the tables near the entrance—seven teenagers stuffing their faces with food and sharing animated conversation with each other now that it’s late and they’re alone—but your stomach twists and your fingers start to tremble as you slowly rise from your seat in the back.  You want to keep your head down and be casual but it’s impossible, you desperately need to keep looking at that silent guard in particular and your heart kicks up in your chest—

—and then it wrenches sideways when you’re carefully backing away from the table and the offending acolyte takes a single step forwards.

Run.  Everything in you screams for you to run, and it’s rarely done that before, but you can’t.  Not yet, you don’t want to draw attention, and the logical part of your mind rages against your gut instinct to haul ass.  He’s here—of course he is, the thought screams through your veins as you try to weave quickly in between tables, feeling light on your toes and readying yourself to run as soon as you can.  The dark figure seems to find a careful pace behind you, staying just far enough behind and walking in perfect silence, and you have so many fucking questions but you can’t even think a single thing beyond run away, run away.  Where’s the kid?  How did he get those robes?  Did he actually take his helmet off just to get to you in a room where anyone could confront him?

Your feet propel you forward as soon as you make it out of the door, you break out into a sprint—just flat out bolting because you know how fucking fast he is and you need as big a headstart as you can get.

You race down the stairs and through the courtyard, the beautiful surroundings contrasting drastically with the way you’re running for your fucking life through them.  It’s not beautiful to you right now; you feel clumsy and physically unable to move fast enough no matter how quick you go, your eyes are wide and every nerve is on fire and you can’t even tell if he’s behind you anymore with how silently he moves, but you just trust that he is and keep barreling forward.  Your breath puffs against the clinging fabric of your mask as you keep sprinting, willing your legs to pump faster.  Get to the belltower at least, get to where you have the smallest chance of being caught by the people who guard this place.

As soon as you allow yourself to even conceive the possibility, two Brothers in dark hooded robes suddenly turn the corner a little ways in front of you and your reaction time is perfect—you jerk to a halt and take a single step forward as soon as they spot you.  Since your momentum already committed you to it, you just have to walk, keep your head down, move directly past them and hope Din disappeared from behind you in time.

Step, step, step—keep going, control your breathing, you’re okay, you’re allowed to be up late tonight and they shouldn’t stop you.  Walk right by…  Stars, you feel their silent stares as you casually pass, and it just feels so cold and analytical compared to the kind of danger Din is gives off when dressed in the exact same clothing.  He’s hard and tangible and an unrelenting force, where they just feel like ghosts that haunt this place.  The threat they present is impersonal and detached, but the terror currently chasing after you is so real that he can read your mind.

You wipe the sweat from your brow as soon as you turn the corner, and your feet are already starting to speed up on their own knowing you’re out of their sight.  Run, get to the belltower before Din does, you can see it standing tall about a hundred feet away.  The stairs leading to the door come closer and closer, but you hear something behind you and it propels you faster.  It’s like you can feel him right at your heels even though you haven’t seen him, snapping at your ankles even though your footsteps are the only ones you can hear anymore.

You scramble up the stairs and close the door behind you, spinning around and facing it even as you slowly retreat backwards into the moonlit tower, trying to stay quiet.  Breathing through your nose, eyes shifting around the enclosed space, continuing to back up and away from the door.  Where is he?  There are so many windows that allow you to look outside, but why can’t you spot his movement through them?  Wasn’t he right behind you?

Behind you.

There’s no reason or logic at all to it; you just react.  Spinning around and throwing a mean punch.

Din jerks back just in time to miss it, twisting and dodging at the very last second to avoid your next few hits—but… things seem to slow down, even if they’re happening so fast.  The moonlight cascades through the dozens of windows lining the circular walls and it shines just enough to reveal small glimpses of him.  With every aggressive strike from you, you see something else—you see a flash of his chin when you try to uppercut, you aim for his chest and you see a bit of his jaw.  When you go for his jaw, he steps sideways and catches your wrist, and you see the bend of his nose catch the light this time.

But then it’s like he finally figures out that you’re actually fighting him, and now he’s coming for you.  Trained and ruthless, not weighed down by any armor and lightning quick, launching perfectly aimed attacks that you’re only able to avoid from reaction and muscle memory alone.  You block or move whenever he strikes, you attack whenever you see an opening, you sidestep at the same time he does—

Until you land a spin kick directly to the center of his chest and snap your leg to shove him back, your heel smashing into that soft spot right above his stomach with dead precision and brute force.  He exhales sharply and takes a few more steps back to steady himself while you pause to catch your breath.

Din abruptly comes back and you fall into it with him again, keeping a sharp rhythm with each other that’s faster, harder, and way more real than any sparring match you’ve ever shared.  The hours and days in hyperspace you spent practicing with him are but a fraction of what he’s throwing at you right now, the combinations so rapid and blurred that you just have to trust your knowledge of him and his movement through the dark.

But then, your downfall.  Bells begin ringing an earsplittingly familiar melody above you, and it shatters your concentration—you falter just as he grabs you and sweeps your feet out, and though you know how to get out of that, you’re not quick enough on the jump nor counterswing to prevent it.  He takes you to the ground, hard, and then your wrists are being pinned together above your head and your mask is being tugged down.

Din’s mouth on yours makes you want to cry.

The whole thing is like coming home.  You spent a week surrounded by strangers and having them call you by a name not given to you, fending for yourself, and now here he is.  Someone who knows who you really are, someone that wants to care for you.  Tears come to your eyes even as they're pressed tightly shut, and Din kisses you like he’s never known anything else.  His mouth fits to yours as if the Maker made your lips before ever considering the rest of you, his bare hand clutching your jaw and forcing you to open for him, letting him lick deep inside after going so many days without it.  It might feel dominant and overwhelming if it happened to any other person, but through it, you can also taste his desperation and weakness, how soft he is even when he’s squeezing your jaw and squishing your wrists together too tightly.

Rigid steel that bends only for your touch.

He pulls back and your heart throbs at how moonlight continues to bathe just the smallest glimpses of him under the hood—never the full thing, never the whole face, but enough.  The quiet light that brushes the arch of his nose, how it bathes the hard line of his jaw so that you can barely see his scruff when he turns his head the right way.  His eyes are hidden in near darkness but there’s the faintest glimmer where they should be, and it’s the closest you’ve ever been to looking at him without the helmet.  You can see him, you can see shadows of his chin, his neck—dear stars, his fucking neck.  You’re pinned and paralyzed under him and the ringing bells, yet you feel like you just might float if he wasn’t holding you so tight to the floor.

“Where’s the baby?”  You finally lift your chin and ask, needing to raise your voice over the melody clanging loud throughout the tower.

“Making friends,” Din pants back down at you, and… stars, then you just start giggling.  Adrenaline turning into pure joy, imagining the kid wreaking havoc with all the other babies in the nursery right now.  It feels more light and airy than anything your body should know.

“What are you so happy about?” He asks, swallowing and then continuing on with the same quick gasps.  “You lost, I caught you in time.”

“Did you?”  You drop your head to the brick floor and ask, biting your lip as he stares back down at you.  Suddenly—

—Bong—

Din holds utterly still over you while you take a quick breath and wait for the next eleven bells… 

…but then break into a slow grin up at him when nothing but utter silence follows.

There’s a moment.  Just a single moment where the cogs turn rapidly under that shadowy hood, one where the faint reflection of light in his eyes flickers down to the communicator on your wrist that says midnight and back to you, one that solidifies the longer it takes for another bell to ring.  It’s not going to.

One o’clock.

You think he puts it together.  The one moment he was never able to figure you out—when you tried reprogramming the comms just a few days ago.  The one trick up your sleeve that you resigned to throw away and almost forget about because the circumstances for pulling it off were never realistic.  Fuck with the electronics and set the clock back just one hour—all you’d need to do is reset his communicator, the timecode is synced together.  He told you before that it’s connected to his helmet, but all the buttons still work.  Rapid, panicky thinking and a wild surge of bravery in the face of certain downfall is the only reason you were able to pull it off, and you’re perfectly willing to admit you just got lucky… especially when he’s still holding dead still over you.

But then Din moves so suddenly.  You can’t account for it because there’s no build-up whatsoever—it’s so fast, you yelp while he grabs your knees and throws them both to one side.  You flop over sideways and large hands reach up under the draping length of your tunic to yank your pants down over the curve of your ass, before he’s fitting his palm up between your legs and pushing two thick fingers inside you.

Your head thunks back against brick with how unexpected and merciless it is, but his other hand is grabbing your jaw and twisting, forcing you to look up, stare right into the dark shadow under the loose cowl.  The whole thing is too overwhelming—you’re trying to keep quiet but your breathing feels like thunder crashing inside this tall, echoing chamber.  He’s touched you so many times, he knows exactly how to do it by now, but it feels like so much more than that.  Probably because you can see the way Din’s mouth silently falls open as he feels you, stretching his fingers up and hooking them tight inside.  You can tell when he closes his eyes, the smallest glint slowly disappearing into nothingness while the hand around your jaw blindly moves up.  It catches your chin and lips, and then two fingers push over the bottom edge of your teeth to slip into your mouth.

Your entire leg twitches and jerks while you lay sideways on the ground and open up for him, your neck twisted at a sharp angle to keep your eyes on him and his fingers in your mouth, giving you something to bite to stop making noise.  Din makes room for himself inside you two different ways, and you just choke on his fingers and try to stay quiet, praying he’ll go deeper.

But then you’re not expecting his whole fucking arm to start moving the way it does—oh fuck, what is that?  First you just feel jostled and displaced, but then suddenly a wicked, deep, burning pleasure starts to roar through you, radiating outwards from the rapid motion of just two fingers inside you.  It’s not in and out, it’s up and down so hard and quick against your g-spot that your eyes cross and your hands go numb.

You think you grab at him, clutch onto his arm or chest and open your mouth to moan at the new and overwhelming sensation, but his hand pushes up against your chin and closes it for you, the bend of his fingers caught hard between your teeth but you don’t think he cares.

“Quiet,” Din hisses the word down at you while his arm continues to work, your toes starting to curl as the feeling overwhelms you.  Fuck, what is happening, what is happening?  It’s like he’s just shoving unfamiliar sensation at you so forcefully that you can’t even think straight anymore, not even ten seconds in.  You can only feel the pleasure, fire blurring hot and shapeless through your entire body as your eyes clamp shut, his fingers isolating that perfect spot and stimulating it directly, relentlessly.

Something dull and white hot presses up tight against all the muscles you have down there and you’re almost afraid of how strong it is.  You gasp and choke and he has to take his fingers out of your mouth and just clamp down around your entire jaw, sealing the whole thing shut with his large hand.  And then Din’s fingers leave your pussy too—and stars, you should be embarrassed by how desperately it clamps around nothing for as long as it does.  He’s not even inside you anymore but your body is on such a delay from the hot, twisting pleasure, and he doesn’t put them back in until your muscles are finished spasming.

Everything comes back full force as soon as he starts moving again.  Noise starts to come from your throat, humming in your vocal cords to deal with the arcing, swirling build, and so Din just moves his hand there instead.  He finds where it’s vibrating from your neck and he pushes up against it, trapping the sound right at the source.  He’s fucking perfect at it for some reason… how many times must he have done this to know how to cut noise out without stopping airflow?  You clutch at his wrist and silently mouth his name, feeling his arm work between your legs—faster, faster, harder, pushing you higher, higher—

Din pulls his fingers out again and this time, one of your thighs suddenly feels warm and wet while you spasm and you hear him growl out a ragged, “Fuck yes.”  Everything is sparks zapping through you long after his touch is gone, you cry out but it’s all trapped under Din’s expert grip.  His fingers soon push back inside you and you dig your nails into his forearm, your sounds muffled and quiet enough to hear his raspy groan.  

“Let me see it again,” Din breathes, his arm starting to work up and down once more, and you don’t even know what he’s talking about anymore.  What does he want to see?  You losing your mind again?  Being reduced to an utter mess in front of his shadowy but unobstructed gaze just because you managed to pull one over on him?

Fucking… apparently.  It’s what happens, after all.  You’ve never seen him like this before; whenever he’s worked up and taking it out on you, there was always something in it for him, too.  He’d hammer into you and rock your world until his eventually shattered, and then you’d both lay exhausted afterwards, equally affected and satisfied.  This isn’t like that—this is just cruel, targeted retribution on his behalf, coaxing the molten pleasure out of you with his fingers and keeping his other hand locked around your throat.  You blink helplessly up at him, your vision starting to blur by the time he leans down to whisper to you.

“I missed you, sweet girl.  Did you miss me?”  It’s so soft and quiet compared to the strength and relentlessness of his movements.  You can’t speak even if you wanted to, but when he finally pulls away to yank his hand out and you feel all your muscles automatically flex outwards and push against the sudden emptiness inside you, his voice groans long and satisfied while your thighs get wet again  “Yeah you did,” he breathes, pushing your shaky legs to the brick with his hand and watching you struggle through the aftershocks.

Did you just cum?  You don’t even know, that’s how fucked up you are right now.  The whole thing felt like an orgasm from the very beginning, just a boiling hot tornado ripping through every single cell in your body, never really having a peak.  If you didn’t cum, then why do you feel so weak?  You feel heavy, your limbs don’t work properly, and you barely even register Din pulling at the fabric of his own robes until he fits himself up against your entrance.

When you do realize it, though… your body burns with it, wrecked already but wanting him to take what he wants from you.

“Oh, plea—” you gasp but you don’t even have enough time to get the full sentence out.  He’s already pushing his hips forward, pressing you tight into the ground and opening you up after what feels like a fucking eternity without him.  It’s the hottest, slickest welcome you could give him, you hear it in the whispered curse his lips brush up under your ear, the wet noises your body makes that get louder the longer you hold the moan in your throat and bury your head into his shoulder.  He throbs thick and perfect inside your tight, spasming cunt, stretching you and smacking the rough ground near your head with how fucking good it is to be back, finally, finally—

Your hands grab uselessly at his chest while you try to acclimate, try to breathe while you’re blind with sensation.  It’s so fitting for him, isn’t it?  That your reunion should be just as physically debilitating as it is mentally.  Din’s voice scrapes on a groan like he’s dragging it across the brick ground as quiet as he can, catching when you clamp down on him and shuddering when you clamp down harder.  That’s just it—you don’t ever loosen, you just keep tightening and tightening around him, threatening to break and cum again.

This feels different from before, though.  It’s deep, purposefully so.  His hand reaches up to push the fabric of your hood back, lifting himself up over your body and wanting to start as deep as he can.  You feel him in a place you’d never be able to reach and that’s just the beginning—that’s before he starts thrusting into you, hitting a dull sensation at the apex of each movement so hard that it becomes sharp.  His hips don’t make practically any sound smacking into you because they don’t really smack, they just rock downwards and fuck you into the floor without needing to pull out really at all.  You know he’s just trying to keep it as quiet as possible, but what he lacks in speed and agility he makes up in power.

You don’t even realize you’re making too much noise until a palm wraps tight around your mouth and the room gets a little emptier.  Din keeps you all to himself on the floor, silencing as much as he’s working you up, smothering as much as he’s freeing you.  There’s no easing up, no dragging it out, no gradual build or climb—it’s just there all of a sudden, pleasure and pain pummeling you all at once, engulfing you in flames.

You reach up to grab at the loose fabric of the hood over his face, catching a fistful of it before his hand suddenly snatches your shaky wrist and pins it back to the ground.

Maker, you forgot—oh, you completely forgot about how many people could find you right now if they ever decided to look in the right place.  You’re not in hyperspace; your body is rocking against rough brick, you’re probably going to have a lump on the back of your head from how terrible you are at trying to map out heaven while holding still.  He’s pinned down what he can with one hand; your fingers are the only things that can move besides how tight you can curl your toes, but you feel your moans turn into words against his palm.  They garble indistinctly and you’re not really even sure what you’re saying, but Din decides it’s worth hearing.

“Shh,” he whispers, slowly lifting his hand from your mouth.  “Shh, tell me—”

“W-wanna look,” you hear yourself whimper, trying your best to keep quiet but wanting to scream it while he fucks you hard and slow on the ground, “—I wanna see, I wanna look at you—”

“Fuck,” Din gasps, and though his grip tightens on your wrist and you know he can’t do it right this second, the words seem like they shatter something inside him, “Keep—oh fuck, please, k-keep saying…”

“I want to marry you,” you nearly whine for him, feeling his hips kick up rapidly and start hammering in and out, in and out, in and—“I want to see your face, I wanna be yours, I don’t want anyone else to know you the way I-I—”

You think he drops his head into your neck to muffle his own sounds.  Though they start out rough and quiet and indiscernible, but they gradually become louder as he repeats himself over and over again, growling and fucking you rough.  You only catch it on the peak, when he pulls his mouth away from your skin and gasps them raggedly one last time.

“—ve you—I l-love y—”

He kisses you to stop himself.  But it’s not really a kiss, it’s more desperate than that.  Though it’s beautiful, it’s beautiful in a different light.  It’s not rejoicing at having you back with him once again; it’s a last prayer begging you to stay by his side forever.  He loves you.  He gives it everything—it feels even more concrete and simple than taking the hood off him and revealing his face would.  You told you that you'd know him without ever seeing him, and you did.  You picked him out and found him when absolutely nothing was giving him away, and this feels like a manifestation of that.  Even if you’re not in a place where he can show you his face, his beautiful brown eyes, something still feels like it changes.  He loves you.  You gasp into his mouth and his tongue sinks deep into yours, tenacious and brave and unyielding.  

When you finally cum, you almost bite him on accident.  

Everything surges hot and molten while he pulls back and keeps fucking you through it, and you can’t tell where you’re touching him anymore, just that his skin is blazing hot under your hand and he feels like everything the armor isn’t.  He loves you.  You’re looking into his eyes right now.  You can’t see any of the details, not really, but the moonlight flickers like silent stars moving through dark depths, staring right back at you and giving you an anchor for the euphoria rocketing through you.  He loves you.  Your nails dig in sharp and slowly drag downwards, scratching hard red lines into whatever thick muscle that is—

The back of his neck, making his hips stutter and when he cums for you, he does bite.

You lift your head just in time to feel his teeth catch your chin instead of your mouth, and his entire body shakes while you keep dragging your nails down the side of his neck and his throat.  Din fucking lives for it, he releases you and arches into the pain and owns your marks like he wishes you made them deeper, stretching his neck and lifting his chin into the moonlight and—

Maker.  You can see it, with direct light, you can see more of it than ever before.  You can see his soft lips and white teeth gritting the sound of your name as quietly as he can, the dark facial hair dusting across the lower half of his face.  A fucking gorgeous jawline and throat extended long over you, flexing hard with his cock pulsing inside you.  You can just barely see the bottom of his nose from under the brown hood, the dark curls brushing up under his ears.

Stars, you still never see his eyes, the fabric of his hood acts like a blindfold draped over them, but you think you cum again.  Even if it’s on accident, it’s mean—Din tries to keep from squishing you and his hand pushes down hard against your lower tummy while he shoves his hips deep one last time, and you cum while staring at half of his face in the moonlight.  Completely lovestruck.

How can he be this beautiful when you’ve only seen fractions of him?  You have everything but the eyes now, everything but the most mysterious thing about him, the reflection into his deepest self, but you feel like you’re hypnotized by every single feature you do see.  His tongue coming out to wet his lips, the vein pulling under his sharp jaw—he’s gorgeous, he’s gorgeous, and your body agrees.  It shakes and shudders under him and eventually, Din finishes and you keep looking as his chin slowly lowers, face disappearing into the shadow once more.

Stars.  He’s so handsome and no one has ever told him, fucking dreamy and the biggest grump you’ve ever met.  Without being able to see him, you already want to reach your hands out and touch him, drag your nails through his scruff and force him to extend outwards into the moonlight again for you.  Whenever he does end up showing you his face, you know right fucking now that you’ll never be able to look away.  For the rest of your life, you’ll be staring at him, apologizing blankly for your rudeness but not feeling sorry at all.

Din leans down and gives you a slow, gentle kiss, finally relaxing into a slouch and breathing hard with the effort it took to shatter you with pleasure.

“The kid is with the other foundlings,” he whispers against your lips.  “You… you’ll have to go get him, I need to grab my armor.”

You squeeze around his cock, pulling at the fabric of his robes and ignoring him for just a second.  He fucked you in robes belonging to one of the guards and nobody has mentioned it, you need to say something.  “Where did you get this?”

“I found it,” he tells you after a moment, kissing up under your jaw.  Oh fucking Maker, he feels so good and perfect inside you, shoulders so broad and crowding you on the floor, and his lips are plush and hot, brushing and fitting your skin like it’s just an extension of his own.  “Some guy was wearing it.”

It takes you a second.

“Mando,” you suddenly gasp in quiet horror, pushing at his chest and trying your best to detach his mouth from your throat.  It’s so much more difficult than it needs to be, but you eventually succeed.  “What did you do to him?  Where is he?”

He lifts his neck up just the tiniest bit, turning his face towards yours under the hood and holding still for way too fucking long.  He’s too close to see the expression he’s making, but you know the tone of his silence.  He’s in trouble and he knows it before you do.

“Ma—”

“They’re in a closet,” he admits at the very same time, completely monotone.

You don’t know which word to emphasize.  A fucking closet?  They’re?  Plural?  Instead of stressing any particular word, you decide not to do it at all and it ends up just coming out in the same exact blank tone as him.  “They're in a closet.”

“Inside the Temple,” Din continues on when you lay still as a statue underneath him.  His head slowly dips down once more, pushing his hips against you just the slightest bit to make you remember the cock still inside you instead.  Your eyelashes flutter with it—fuck, focus—“I didn’t know there’d be more than two.”  He kisses your neck so gently.  “It was an accident.”

You don’t say anything at all, your mouth pinching down at the corners because it should but your heartbeat galloping with how… fucking sexy he is.  You shouldn’t encourage this, this horrible behavior just to get close enough to catch you, but your curiosity overtakes you and you ask a question you’ve asked yourself before.  “Did they put up a fight?”

“Mm,” he whispers noncommittally, rocking his hips down once more.  “You did.”  Your nails dig into his chest, making him falter just slightly before slowly kissing your neck again.  “Did so good.  Fought hard, outsmarted me.  Pretty fucking girl.”

And then your eyes pop open as you feel it.  His cock suddenly beginning to harden once again inside you, twitching and gradually gaining a thicker shape, and for a moment, you actually fucking consider it.  He’s the only one in this galaxy that could not only ruin you on these sacred grounds, but then coax you into doing it more than once—stars, are you actually considering it?

“We can’t,” you automatically tell him, but it’s fucking pitiful.  Zero effort, absolutely no umph behind it, leaving it entirely up to him and how much he wants it.  Your logic reminds you that the kid is probably wreaking havoc in the nursery and there are tied up guards in the fucking temple that could be discovered any second.  You shouldn’t have even let him fuck you here in the first place, but…  “Mando, we can’t—”

His mouth opens against the crook of your neck and his tongue brushes velvet hot on your skin, tasting the glistening sweat there and not moving his broad figure a single inch over you besides getting closer, deeper.  Your nails dig into his collarbone, aiming for reason one last time.  It’s apparent that you’d be better off rephrasing, knowing the challenging streak in him and how much telling him what to do doesn't help.

“It’s not a good idea,” you attempt instead, breathless and trying not to move under his mouth and lazy hips.  “Not smart.  Bad idea to fuck again.”

Din’s body stops moving, even though he keeps getting harder.  His jaw opens and then his teeth scrape softly against your flesh, making you tilt your neck back and gasp.

“Later,” he lifts his head to state aloud, committing it to truth now that it’s been spoken and heard by another person.  “Later, I’ll fuck you on the ship, in our bed, when I can get you naked and have your taste in my mouth.”

Tingles rock through your body and you squeeze around his cock just as he pulls it out and tucks it back into his pants.  Your lungs quiver when you inhale—it’s shaky, but it reminds you of how long it’s been since you’ve been able to breathe correctly.

“Later,” you finally agree, combing your fingers through your hair and glad you have this hood to cover your freshly fucked dishevelment.  He came inside you and you don’t want to be leaking and getting your nice pretty robes all wet and stained, but then of course, without any prompting, Din quickly scoots back on his knees and drops his head down to take care of it for you.

***

Commotion.

After Din helped you clean up the way he sometimes likes and then disappeared to change back into his armor, you put your mask and hood back on and tried to look as casual as possible walking to the nursery.  Your knees wobbled slightly and you couldn’t stop smiling under the mask the entire walk there, but when you arrived, you just saw a dim room with sleeping infants—not what you were expecting.  Soon, however, you hear it: down the hall, distant and coming from the dormitories, you hear a loud commotion.

Fuck, you’re nearly wincing with every step you take now, and not because you’re sore.  Well, you… are, a little bit, but in a great way.  No, you’re just dreading the ridiculous shinanigans you already know are well underway, wondering if Din actually dropped the kid off in the dorms from the beginning or if he somehow migrated his way there to cause trouble.

When you walk inside, the first thing you see is a handful of crying and shouting toddlers, and while you can’t immediately spot your favorite floppy-eared monster, you don’t have to see him to know he’s probably standing tiny directly in the middle of this tense showdown.  Automatically, you’re taking a few steps forward to rescue him, but then you stop as soon as you see what the other babies are so mad about.  A large piece of chocolate leftover from the festival levitating just beyond their pitiful little reaches.

Hm.  Who could possibly be responsible for using demon powers to steal snacks and hold them hostage from a sizeable group of hostile children.  A mystery that may never be solved.

It makes you take a second.  The sheer… the… stars, you can’t even think straight—how fucking typical it is just hits you right in the chest, sends your heart into orbit.  Of course.  Of course this is what he’s gotten himself into without immediate supervision, of course this is the shipwreck you’d walk into, and you’re holding back a chuckle before making a single move to intervene.  In the midst of everything, you can hear adults approaching distantly from behind you.

“—don’t know where it came from, I was helping the younglings into bed when I heard the ruckus and I—”

The voices gradually grow louder, and you snatch the floating piece of candy out of thin air and whip around right before Sister Drya and Naydee walk in.  Their hushed, concerned conversation is cut to an abrupt end, and you clear your throat as they take you in, standing in front of chaos central continuing to go off behind you.  Do you… look as freshly disheveled as you are?  You’re not supposed to be here, you know, but hopefully the only strange thing is your presence itself and not anything concerning your appearance.

“Nerida,” the older lady suddenly announces, the name alone holding so much expectation, and the younglings missing their candy have now turned their ire towards you and the crinkly food wrapper hidden in your fist.  “What is the meaning of this?”

“Ah, yeah,” you stand up a little straighter, letting the chocolate casually fall out of your grip behind you, and a stampede of feet suddenly kick up to recover it.  It’s fine, nobody will know, it’s fine.  “It’s just…”  Your head tips behind you to the cause of the uproar, feeling a bit sheepish yet so incredibly fond.  “My… kid.”

Sister Drya stares at you for a few seconds, before tipping sideways and staring at the culprit.  “That is your child?”

You turn around just in time to see him, now abandoned by the angry mob of children, finally notice you.  All of a sudden, his pitch black eyes light up something bright and sunshiney, and you just start beaming in return.  What an adorable little creature, apple of your eye and pain of your ass.

“Yep,” you sigh, dropping into a squat and watching him barrel towards you, catching him right before he can trip over his brown potato sack and scooping him up into your arms.  “Hiya, bug,” you murmur with a grin, lifting back up and plopping him in his favorite spot in the universe—your left hip.  “You making friends?”

He giggles and it’s like sparkles and bubbles fill the room instead, wrapping tiny arms around the largest surface area he can get and clinging.  He laughs with a tiny open mouth, bless him, clearly not understanding the sarcasm, and suddenly your eyes feel just the slightest bit wet.  No, you’re not crying, don’t be fucking ridiculous, but you missed him like hell and he’s just the cutest fucking thing—why do you feel like crying?

“Sorry about that,” you apologize to the two women while slowly turning around, brushing your thumb over one of his cheeks and smiling as it squishes.  “He’s… uh.  Not great at sharing.  We’ll work on it.”

Takes after his dad, you purposefully leave out, just a different kind of sharing.  Din hasn’t shown you his full face yet and the kid performs magic tricks to taunt a roomful of children a fraction of his age for a single piece of chocolate, completely different kind of sharing.

Sister Drya says something in response, but when you look up to address her, all you see is Din standing silently behind her and Naydee, slowly dropping his hand from his helmet to his side.  They don’t seem to notice he’s there and you automatically try your best to pay attention to the Sister speaking to you, but your eyes get caught on the silver reflecting in the dim light beyond.  Fuck, he’s a presence.  An immediate distraction, taking all your focus with a single glimpse.  Seeing him fully armored again, staring at you from the silent shadows behind everything… you melt a little bit, knowing that you’ve seen more of what’s underneath than anyone.  Your shoulders settle and your entire body burns warm, wobbly like the air around a fire, and one of the kid’s hands leaves you to reach out towards his dad.

You watch the metallic helmet tilt sideways after a moment, saying everything without saying anything.  Come on, make up an excuse, let’s get out of here.

Looking at him in the quiet shadows, you’re reminded once again about how much you love him, how much softness you have inside you for a man so hard, so guarded.  And, for the first time, a voice in your head finishes a poem you didn’t realize you were writing, adding its own verse and bringing everything back around to the beginning.  He loves you, too.  How much he lets his guard down for you, the way he’s revealed more of his face to you than not.  You love each other.  You’re family.

So, all at once, you decide to mess with him, because that’s what family does best.

“Don’t be shy, come say hello,” you suddenly urge his silent figure, taking a step forward and speaking directly to him.  “Sister Drya, Naydee, I’d like to introduce you to my—”

It’s remarkable, you see it happen in front of you.  Like he has powers of his own, Din just literally fucking disappears.  Like magic, he’s nowhere to be found within a blink of an eye.  You know he’s capable of it; he’s done it plenty of times during the chase just to fuck with your head, but you’re staring straight at him when it happens this time and it might just be the funniest fucking thing you’ve ever seen him do.

Sister Drya and Naydee both turn around to an empty hallway bathed in shadows and you laugh.  A deep, shameless, loud belly laugh.  Where the fuck did he go so quick?  You were staring straight at him and you have no fucking clue.  He’s just out, and you’re left alone with his child and the unspoken understanding that he’ll just catch up with you later.

You’re giggling even as you shake your head and give the women your genuine thanks for keeping you and feeding you these past few days, grabbing your backpack with all your belongings and eventually using three green fingers to wave goodbye to them.  The very first thing Din says when he seamlessly joins you outside the Keja later is, “That wasn’t funny,” which just makes you laugh harder.

***

About a half hour has passed, and you’re walking along a dirt road, cradling a very happy baby in your arms and giving the grown man next to you an incredibly hard time.

“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, your back twinging slightly at the way you’re leaning about as sideways as you can get without falling over.  You think you’re basically just the hypotenuse between the ground and Din, who easily supports almost your entire weight with your backpack slung around his far shoulder and readily allows you to rest against him.

“They’re fine,” he grumbles in response, squeezing you tight to his side.  You just have to focus on moving your feet; it’s like he’s practically carrying your upper-half anyways.  “I gave them the night off.”

“You stuffed them in a closet,” you hiss, feeling his shoulder shrug under your cheek.

“I gave them the robe back,” he says, not really defending himself and more just throwing it out there to see if it helps any.  “I’m sure someone’s found them by now, they’re fine.”

Your eyes suddenly go wide, absolutely mortified at the thought.  “Wait.  What do you mean you gave the robe back?”

He shrugs once more, apparently not seeing the problem yet.  “I borrowed it, so I gave it back after I put my armor back on.”

If you could plant your feet on the dirt road and screech to a halt, you would, but all your weight is already resting on him and you’re working solely off his forward movement.  You just hope your tone holds the same amount of shocked disapproval your body language would’ve conveyed if you weren’t so completely attached to his hip like a parasite he adores.

“You fucked me wearing it, though.”  Your voice is strangely flat, so fucking confused and horrified by the mental image of him just tossing the soiled garments haphazardly somewhere in the temple behind you, or even worse, leaving them somewhere respectful, and Din soon stops in the middle of the deserted road.

“Oh,” is all he says, emotionless and blank through the modulator.  Did he not even consider this?

“I had to promise them I was a virgin just to sleep there, you know,” you admit, and you can tell that’s brand new information to him with how still he goes as you continue to lean against him.  You’re getting the feeling that he probably knows a lot more about your experiences on this moon than you think he does, but can tell that this is brand new information to him.  “And you locked three of their holy men in a closet, chased me across the temple grounds, fucked me in one of their robes, and then.  You gave it.  Back.”

Din stays perfectly silent for quite some time.  You can never go back to that place, you know this for a fact.  You’re banned forever now, it’s what you deserve.

Never one to be outdone but not actually having anything to say for himself, Din suddenly decides to just scoop you into his arms and boost up into the sky without a single word like an actual fucking maniac.

You squeal and damn near drop the baby because of it, but he cinches you tight to his chest and refuses to loosen with your struggle.  Eventually, after you realize he’s completely locked you in and you won’t fall to your death with this poor innocent child in your arms, you glance over the shiny pauldron on his shoulder and watch the kid’s crib disappear by the abandoned road as Din takes you higher and higher.

The crib—he forgot the crib—

“D-Din,” you stammer out through the whistling air, stiff as a board.  Stars, you have such a different sense of adventure than him; an explorer and a daredevil, one who gets a thrill from discovering the existence of the edge of a cliff and one who’ll take a running dive off of it without thinking twice.  He’s hit with blaster fire some days, he faces down death completely fearless like it owes him one every single time, and you’re stiff as a fucking board while he carries you through the sky.  It’s stunning up here, it’s exciting and wonderful, but you’re so scared that you can barely even look.  He’s giving you the most fantastical view, everything your budding adventurous streak could ever ask for, and your terror is crushing.  It would be different if you could hold on, but you’re responsible for not letting the baby slip through your arms and you just have to trust that he won’t let you slip through his.

You raise your voice.  “Din?!”

“I won’t drop you,” he automatically reassures, and well you sure as fuck hope not, but there’s something else.

“What about the crib?”  You call out over the wind whipping, tucking the baby tight to your chest and settling your hands over his ears to avoid them flapping and whacking you repeatedly in the chin.

“We’ll come back for it,” he responds, just as easily.  Maker, you wish decision-making came that easy to you, that commitment and choice should be so simple as to just fly away from things on the ground and promise out loud to come back for them.  You know he will, but still, his spontaneity shocks you after spending the past week thinking every decision through meticulously, and you’re taken aback by the casualness of it all while soaring through the sky, committing such spectacular feats without a single thought beyond it.

Soon—incredibly soon, which honestly kind of blows your mind—you spot Nariss glowing in the distance and then you’re flying overtop of the city, slowly dropping altitude in the middle of a quiet little side street.

Din carefully allows your feet to settle on the ground before letting go, but you still stumble a bit stupidly after flying so high without any sort of safety measure besides him, prioritizing the steadiness of the baby in your arms instead of your feet underneath you.  His gloves catch at your clumsy body and pull you along with him without another word, leading you out of the quiet alley and into the middle of a beautiful, luminescent street.

What’s he doing?  He seems slightly hurried, and you’re clueless but you go with it, clamoring along behind him to wherever he’s leading you.

Though, you suddenly remember one of the very last things you told him last night right before he steps up in front of a vendor.

“Caf,” Din grunts, sliding a few credits towards the man standing behind the counter. “The… biggest one you have.”

Okay, well.  You could just about fucking cry.

“Y’sure?” The vendor asks skeptically, jerking his head at the large thermos behind him.  He’s balding, wearing a white outfit with his eyes scrunched up and forehead sweaty, likely working all day.  “It ain’t fresh.  Closin’ up soon, was just about to trash it and go home.”

The helmet turns to gauge your response to the news, the sharp angles and contours looking so sleek and dangerous as they reflect the colorful lamplights, but just filling you with comfort beyond anything in the entire galaxy.  He’ll take that armor off for you tonight and you’ll sleep next to him.  He’ll call you by your given name, or the fond name he’s given you, and you’ll cuddle your baby on a metal floor in hyperspace with him, and all will be well.  Even if he needs to leave again soon—even if you don’t get to go with him, you’ll always have these small eternities with each other, and that’s more enough for you now.

You’re completely zoned out while staring at him, and Din turns back to the vendor before you can even remember the conflict he was attempting to defer to you.

“Yeah, just empty the whole thing in there for her,” he mutters, and you want to marry him.  It’s been a long week, and in your haze and delight of being with him in this gorgeous setting, your brain turns to cavewoman mush.  Big man, makes me happy.  Strong man, loves me, knows me.  Provider, makes me feel good, protector, loves me.

Din hands you the large cup of steaming caffeine, clueless to your grunted inner monologue but knowing better than to reach out and grab the kid from your other arm.  You’re just fine like this, hands full, the little frog snuggled up against your side and blinking up at your face instead of any of the shiny or glowing things around you.  When you look down at him, you can see the world through his eyes—quite literally, they’re reflective and gigantic—and his father’s hand quickly finds its preferred spot on your lower back.

“Try to drink it quick,” Din advises you gruffly, pulling you snug into his side and sloshing the big cupful of piping hot liquid in your hand.

“It’s a thousand degrees,” you protest, trying to balance your three favorite things in the universe all begging for your direct attention at once.  “It has to cool down.”

He gives a dismissive hm in response, and you frown even as your heart soars with how tightly he’s gripping you, how little leeway you have to even move without him.  Part of you is so thrilled at being reunited with him that you consider snarking something back at him, excitement making you brave.  He could probably chug boiling hot liquid in thirty seconds and doesn’t see the point in letting it sit any longer, and you could make some stupid joke about filtering it through his helmet or having a built in bendy straw but you decide to keep it to yourself.

So then you just stand there together, under stringed lights and flowers everywhere, and he waits.  Holding you glued to his side, completely silent and clearly just waiting for your caf to stop steaming so threateningly in your hand so you can drink it.  For some reason, the fact that he’s wanted by the New Republic doesn’t really register at this second—you’re not looking for cops, though he may be.  You’re just lost in this beautiful, fancy city that’s on the edge of finally quieting down after a long day, and you’d like to see more of it with him next to you.

“Well, do you wanna just…”  You ask, tilting your head around at all the vendors.  “Shop around for a bit?”

“Shop… around,” Din repeats slowly, sounding the words out like they’re not common Basic.  Admittedly, they do sit a bit awkward in his voice when put together like that, describing a phenomena he’s likely never even considered a thing before, but it’s so fucking pretty here and you’d like to show him something this time instead of the other way around.

“Yeah, like,” you shrug a shoulder, tipping your head in a random direction.  Anywhere, you’ll go literally anywhere with him, the three of you can go explore.  “Just wander around, and look at all the pretty things.”

From where you’re standing right now, you can already see glittering crystals and jewels being sold at the tent across the street, there’s a booth dedicated entirely to floral arrangements and crowns next to it, you can hear a distant quartet playing melodically in the distance and a couple is being painted by an artist on the corner.  Bars are in full swing at this point, as if they weren’t all day, and even though the merchandise is all different, the multicolored tents look slightly similar when they’re underlit with multicolored lights.  It’s less slightly lively than it was in the daytime, but also… more beautiful, in a sense.  Muted, softer, more romantic.

“I don’t have any more credits,” Din admits casually, finally turning to look around at everything.  You get the feeling that he’s just now seeing it, even after spending the entire day here.  “That stale caf was the last of it.”

Money well fucking spent, you can assure him of that.

“It’s okay,” you tell him automatically, gently bumping your hip into his.  “We don’t need credits, we can just look.”

So that’s what you do.  Even though it’s completely not his fucking style, for the next hour or so, you just walk around downtown with him and sip your caf, looking at anything and everything new and experiencing it with him.  At first, you think he’s just entertaining you, following you while you discover new streets and attractions, but then he points out different things and you know he's looking, too.  There are large animals harnessed up and pulling carts for people to ride, there's an enormous spinning wheel set up in the distance, its colorful lights flickering out as soon as you ask what the fuck that is and why anyone would ever get inside one.

You eventually end up finishing your caf around the time he’s leading you back through a quiet, abandoned alleyway, and you hand him the empty cup to throw away in one of the trash cans on the corner.  The conversation has faded to a comfortable quiet and you don’t really need to ask—you go willingly, not requiring anything beyond his hands on you and the baby dozing in your arms.

“Come on, sweet girl,” he murmurs, gently sweeping you up into his.  You sigh, glad he’s giving you a moment to prepare yourself this time, holding the sleeping kid securely to your chest and resting your head on his shoulder.  “Let’s go home.”

After you’re comfortable, Din rockets up from the ground and climbs high up into the canvas sky.  He disappears with you and the baby into the pastel clouds above, making it back to the Razor Crest in probably about an hour, maybe less.  You and the baby do nothing more than climb into the comfy floor blankets while Din starts up the engines, and you think you’re dozing off together by the time he makes the pit stop to collect the crib and the jump into hyperspace.

You think he might shower?  You’re not sure—you just know he moves up behind you in bed at one point without any armor, burying his face in your hair while you cuddle the sleepy kid to your chest.  It’s dark in the hull, Din’s palms are bare and warm as they slide around the front of your body and he breathes you in, and there isn’t a single place that can touch you here, not a single place you’d rather be.

Home.

***

@followwhereshegoes​ Thank you for the stunning artwork! 💕To anyone interested in possibly doing an art collab in the future, please message me!!

[zivazivc]

Pinocchio AU

Okay people want the explanation for this comic so here it goes. It’s long and complicated and MESSED UP because of course it is, this is me. I’m going to write in points because my small tired brain can’t handle good english atm but basically to sum up the Adrien was a sentimonster theory or Pinocchio AU as I like to call it:

Young married Emilie and Gabriel can’t have kids. Gabriel reluctantly accepts this fate and even brings up adoption as a possibility once, but Emilie doesn’t want to hear any of that. She’s a bit of a Marinette in the sense that she pictures this romanticized ideal life for herself and a child—her flesh and blood—HAS to be in it.

They keep trying to get a baby while other young families Emilie knows keep growing. She feels left out and hurt and depressed, then her newlywed twin sister announces she’s expecting a baby too and something within Emilie just unhinges.

She eventually lies to some of her friends, who she was out for coffee with, that she’s pregnant too. She mostly does it just to see their reaction and feel what it would be like but it quickly spirals out of control where she just starts pretending she’s pregnant until you can’t even tell if she believes it herself.

Gabriel is confused at first because he hears the news second hand (a friend/family member congratulating him) so he’s apprehensive when he approaches his wife but she convinces him that they really are getting a baby and Gabriel is ecstatic.

It’s only later at a doctor’s check up that Gabriel learns that she indeed is not pregnant. The doctor even speaks to him alone explaining that his wife is in denial and that he should make sure she goes to see a psychiatrist, something she definitely wouldn’t do alone.

Gabriel is unsuccessful with that because he’s not entirely persistent, doesn’t want to be the guy with the crazy wife having to tell everyone she lied about being pregnant, and hopelessly believes she’ll just get over it eventually.

That is until her “pregnancy is near due”—her sister already had Félix in England a few months ago—and he stumbles on her transformed with her peacock miraculous (they already have both of them) creating a sentimonster newborn.

They have a huge fight about it but because Emilie refuses to destroy it, won’t tell Gabriel where the amok is, and Gabriel can’t just hurt the baby with his hands, Emilie just… wins. Fucked up, yeah?

Now she tried creating kids before this one, using her imagination to try and blend her and Gabriel’s looks but it just wasn’t working. So she decided to copy of photos of baby Félix because he already looked almost like a copy of his mother, and Amélie and Emilie already looked alike so it’s not so weird?—is what her mind was telling her.

She didn’t dare alter his looks but she decided to give the baby Gabriel’s eye color to include the “father” in some way. (Yes in that comic I made I gave Adrien a mix of green and gray but that was mainly to get the point across to the perceptive readers)

Now we got Adrien, a normal baby boy to the whole world except for Gabriel who’s forced into his wife’s fantasy through social expectations.

Why are we only at this point and this post is already so long AAAAAAAA!!!

Adrien physically basically grows in a way where Emilie just keeps changing his appearance to match what Félix looked like a few months prior.

Mentally he’s like a robot just taking in information without really needing to learn it. So Emilie decides when he says his first word, she decides when he learns to walk,… He knows how to walk, he just wasn’t given the command to do so yet.

But even so he does develop a personality over time, just slower, because unlike a normal child who’s always testing his boundaries, how far they’re allowed to go until they’re in real trouble, Adrien just can’t misbehave. At all.

But he does have his favorite foods and favorite toys, and jokes that make him laugh the most. The problem is just that Emilie could just decide that his favorite food is strawberries and he’d just start acting accordingly, rewiring his belief. 

He also isn’t allowed to argue or be mean to others which is why Félix thinks he’s a goody two-shoes weirdo while Chloé the brat adores him.

This behavior isn’t so hard to hide with a toddler who’s fickle but it’s harder and harder as the kid grows. Which is why the family becomes very secluded over time.

Gabriel always keeps distance with his “son”. He’s not Dad, he’s Father, he doesn’t do hugs and cuddles, he doesn’t say I love you. But Adrien knows he loves him because his mom told him so and he loves him back unconditionally because Mom said that’s what families do.

Now even though Gabriel is traumatized by this whole ordeal and knowing Adrien “isn’t real” freaks him out he does soften a bit over time. I’m going to give an awful example but like someone who hates cats softening for a cat that their partner/roommate decided to get/had from before. Continuing with this example: But still becoming appalled when the cat starts acting odd/unusually.

Okay I think you get the gist. Let’s move on…

Emilie loves her son more and more as he grows and his sentimonster behaviours start bothering her more and more too. She hates being reminded that he’s not a real boy by people mentioning he looks young for his age because Emilie forgot to make him grow for a while. She hates when he does everything like he’s told. She hates that he has no real friends because they’re afraid to expose him to the outside too much and without supervision. She hates to think about his future.

Her desire for him to be real keeps growing and is what drives her to search for a solution in the miraculous spellbook.

She cracks the script after years, when Adrien is nearly a teen, and finds a way to transfer the creators soul into a sentimonster.

It’s a long process that takes time and while she falls ill to everyone around her, Adrien becomes more real.

Gabriel starts realizing what’s happening when he notices Adrien hesitate for a second when he’s playing a video game and Gabriel wants him to do something, groan when he gets bothered watching TV, huff, complain, have slightly opposing opinions to his and Emilie’s, when he argues with his mother when she tells him she’s feeling fine; when he notices his son’s eyes are greener. Or is it all in his head?

He confronts his wife too late, when she’s extremely ill already, her normally vibrant eyes dulled match Adrien’s bluish gray, and he pieces together in his head what she’s doing.

Before Gabriel could properly think what to do to stop the love of his life from turning into a lifeless doll, in a fit of panic he tries to take her wedding band (where he knows Adrien’s amok is) to get rid of Adrien instead, but is unsuccessful in getting it off her so he snatches her peacock brooch instead (which she needs to complete the spell obvs) and breaks it. (Heyoo! broken peacock miraculous. things are coming together)

Because the spell was almost complete anyway it’s Emilie who falls unconscious. But she doesn’t disappear because she’s not a real sentimonster, she just becomes dormant like one.

This is the point in the story where Gabriel makes it seem like Emilie ran away or something like that—basically disappear. Now he’s living knowing he has an almost sentimonster wife in the basement, knowing he almost killed his son (or her), and having to care for a son that suddenly became much more alive, questioning, arguing, angry, screaming, not accepting, crying, grieving, staring at him with Emilie’s eyes.

Instead of becoming a real parent, Gabriel shuts him out.

Soon Adrien evolves desires for socializing, company, getting away from the suffocating home which eventually leads to him going to a public school.

He slowly starts to live life freely without the restrictions that were put around his thoughts.

Gabriel has an even stranger relationship with Adrien now because he still loves him in a way but also holds resentment toward him. But mostly he sees him as something valuable.

The show happens here…  And now finally we get to the comic…

Gabriel gets a hold of the ladybug and black cat miraculouses. (There’s no epic fight in his lair as you see there’s no Ladybug in the comic but that’s not really important)

What’s important is that Gabriel had deciphered the miraculous spellbook with the help of Emilie’s notes and had decided to use the unification’s “wish” power to awaken Emilie.

He’s aware he’ll need to sacrifice something for the wish to come true and he’s certain Adrien should be enough because the soul inside him is literally the one thing Emilie is missing.

✨Adrien (poor boy just lost his miraculous) is taken to Gabriel’s lair, where he finds out his father is Hawk Moth, sees his mother, learns he’s a sentimonster, and that he’s going to become a sacrifice ✨

Of course the last part is not what happens. It’s Gabriel who ends up being sacrificed.

I can’t decide if Gabriel ends up sacrificing himself because he changed his mind in the last moment while Adrien was screaming for him to stop, OR  because he didn’t love Adrien enough for him to be considered an equal exchange for his wife… O.O

But anyhow…

Emilie wakes up with Gabriel’s soul within her (hence the bluish gray eyes in the comic).

Adrien is traumatized for life.

This took me hours to write… I knew there was a reason why I didn’t want to do it. I hope I didn’t forget anything and my brain made sense of it all

Well there you have it, peeps. The Pinocchio AU. It’s as messed up as my sleep schedule. Good night. 

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers LOST EDEN ー Reiji Maniac [02]

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

ー The scene starts in the entrance hall of Eden

Yui: ( I wonder what Reiji-san is up to when he’s by himself? )

( ...Trying to follow him to find out was a good idea and all, but I completely lost sight of him... )

( I swear he was walking right in front of me mere seconds ago, so where could he have gone...? )

???: What is this about?

Yui: Eh!?

Reiji: It is highly distracting to have you sneak around behind my back. 

Yui: ( When did he get behind me...? )

Reiji: Answer my question. I knew you were trailing me from the very beginning. 

Yui: ( Busted... )

...Yes. 

Reiji: Good grief...Do you have no manners at all? 

Yui: I’m sorry...

Reiji: Haah...So, why were you following me? 

Yui: Um...

Reiji: Answer me. 

Yui: Well...I felt a little lonely...

Reiji: ーー ...I see.

Then, would you like to join me? 

Yui: Eh? ...Can I?

Reiji: Yes, go ahead.

Yui: ( He’s acting normal. Seems like I was just overthinking things. )

ー The scene shifts to the pharmaceutical department

Yui: Pardon the intrusion...

( It’s so quiet in here. There’s many things I’ve never seen before. )

Reiji: If it’s not too much trouble, could you help me organize these shelves? 

Yui: Of course!

Reiji: Well then...You can start with that shelf over there and rearrange all books according to this list.

*Flip*

Yui: ( Wow, that’s a lot of books... )

Reiji: While I did consider putting my Familiars in charge of this task, it would be highly unfortunate if any of these valuable writings were to be lost.

I’m sure that will not happen when I leave this up to you, correct?

Yui: Y-Yes! I will try my best! But...

( However, if I have to do this all on my own, I’m honestly not sure how long it’ll take. )

Selection

→ Show reluctance (S)

Yui: Um...By when should I get it done? 

Reiji: There is no specific time limit. ...I do not demand speed from those who do not possess any magical abilities such as yourself. 

Yui: I see...

Reiji: Therefore, please work carefully so you do not mess up. 

Yui: Yes. 

Reiji: ...You must not overestimate yourself. 

→ Accept without questioning (M)

Reiji: ...’But’?

Yui: No, it’s nothing. Anyway, I’ll get to it. 

Reiji: ...

Yui: ( Huh? I wonder why he seems conflicted? )

Reiji: Whether it’s sneakily following someone or swallowing one’s words...Your actions truly reflect those of a human. 

Yui: Eh...?

Reiji: ...It’s nothing. 

Yui: ( Eh? But... )

Reiji: Well then, I have other business to attend to, so I will excuse myself now. 

Yui: Okay.

ー Reiji walks to the door

Reiji: ...Aah, I forgot to mention this. 

It would be careless to leave the door open. 

So I will use magic to lock it from the outside. 

Yui: Eh? Then, Iーー 

Reiji: You do not need to leave until you are done with your task, do you? 

I will make sure the Familiars bring you food when required, so no need to worry about that. 

No complaints, I assume? 

Yui: ( I offered to do it myself so...I guess I can’t complain now. )

Nope. Have a safe trip. 

Reiji: ...

ー Reiji leaves the room

Yui: ( He left... )

( Honestly, I only feel even more lonesome being left in this unwelcoming room all by myself. )

...But I’ll try my hardest. 

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: Um, next up is...

*Flip*

Yui: ( I wonder how much time has passed ever since...? )

( Reiji-san has not showed himself even once. )

( I don’t want to think this way but... )

( He might have entrusted me with this task to have an excuse to lock me up in here. )

...

Ah!

ー Some of the books fall down

Yui: ( Seems like I’ve run out of concentration. ...I should take a short nap. )

ー She closes her eyes

Yui: ...

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: Nn...

ー Yui wakes up again

Yui: ( My body feels sore...I mean, it only makes sense since I had to sleep while sitting down...Hm? )

*Rustle*

Yui: ( I’ve got a blanket on me. Somebody must have...! )

( The door has been locked with magic...So it can only be one person, right? )

( I wish Reiji-san would have reached out to me. )

( ...It feels warm. I wonder why his kindness still lingers? )

( When he does it, I only miss him even more. )

...

( I’m lonely...Reiji-san. )

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

[alextturcotte]

lols here we go again @2manytabsopen

rant no.1 

um so has everyone just forgotten that matty beniers was talking to a minor… like a person who is under the age of 18 kind of minor because i’m pretty sure that shit happened and i’m not quite sure why we are still making fics about this boy. or even talking about him but whatever you do you i guess 💀 another thing hockeyblr has somehow forgot is thomas bordeleau being besties with a rapist like excuse me. also not to mention using a euphemism of the n-word which is so very inappropriate. honestly i’m so sick and tired of people defending both of these boys' actions. stop saying they’re too young to know better like just no. there are literal 10 year olds out there that know these actions are inappropriate and completely unacceptable. so don’t anyone give me that “they’re too young to know better speech” because i will not hear it. they do and should know better than to do these things because they are grown ass people. they are both 20 years old and that is definitely old enough to understand that talking to a minor in a sexual way, associating yourself with a rapist and saying a racial slur is not okay. to be honest people that are still making fics about just whatever i don’t associate myself with the people who do and i block the tags and shit. it just annoys me that people don’t give a fuck and choose to ignore the issues at hand. 

rant no.2 

again with the talking shot about WAGS !!! like excuse me ma'am i know you did not just insult a woman for being friends, dating or marrying a hockey player. who the fuck do you think you are. like i know you have singular m&m rolling around in your brain but maybe just maybe put the god damn m&m to good use and THINK BEFORE YOU SPEAK. what the actual hell happened to “girls supporting girls” does that suddenly not apply when your favourite hockey gets into a relationship ?! you’re jealous so what suck it up ur fav hockey was bound to get into a relationship at some point and honestly if ur THAT jealous you just had to bully the gf how come you didn’t slide into the dm’s while he was single and try to bag him… like girl come on. even if you did and it failed that doesn’t give you the okay to bully the S/O. the whole thing is so fucked up i have so much more to say but i don’t know how to type it out so yeah 

rant no.3 

tying in with rant no.2 the whole girls being friends with hockey players and people bullying the girls, trying to find out information and literally stalking them is just weird. specifically with the umich hockey team. like since when was it bad to have guy friends or girl friends…  some of y’all are bullying these girls that are in COLLEGE fucking college !!!! leave them the fuck alone they haven’t done anything to hurt you all they’re doing is having a good fun time making friends in college is that so wrong to do. and so what if some are in a relationship that’s none of your business to find out if they are. talk about invasion of privacy. some people on this app are really finding these girls tiktoks, instagrams and VSCO’s and posting them on here like just stop. for the millionth time they are in college just normal fucking people and you are invading their privacy and making them probably very uncomfortable. they just want a normal college experience but you are ruining it for them by making unnecessary comments. ESPECIALLY on tiktok just get out of the poor girls comments and stop making her feel uncomfortable. some of the people on umichblr are the reason these girls delete videos, private their account and take vsco’s out of the bio. it’s because you guys are making them uncomfortable and all of y’all are saying stupid shit like “oh idk why they deleted the video” like what ?? you posted that video on this app maybe posted a link so now all these jealous ass people can go into the comment and bully the girl like enough is enough. i’m sick and tired of it. 

um anyways these are my rants for now i hope these made sense i tend to not make sense when i’m mad but ya 🤩

[pippytmi]

1, 4, 14?

The one hope Kara has for her roommate is that Lena Luthor will not be a smoker.

Alex had told her not to have high expectations; after all, this roommate arrangement was all organized through Winn, and Alex has always stated that she doesn’t trust this man’s self-preservation tactics. (“Once, during an earthquake drill, he started to climb up the building. Kara, what kind of a moron does that?”)

But Kara isn’t as cynical as her sister…or quite as mean. So she trusts that Winn’s people skills are better than his survival skills, and resolves not to write off Lena by virtue of association alone. It’s expensive enough to live in National City; when Winn had promised a roommate that “probably won’t be tempted to murder anyone anytime soon,” that had honestly been a good enough draw. (That had, of course, been sandwiched in a perfectly normal explanation about Lena being the best student in their shared pre-med classes—Winn maintains that anyone pursuing med school that rigorously will be too tired to consider recreational murder on the side.)

So Kara takes her tentatively-moderate-expectations—along with a box of donuts as a gift—and makes her way to apartment 9b. This is technically her first time ever being a real roommate; her only other experience was sharing a wall with Alex during their teenage years, and occasionally during their college years when they weren’t driving each other crazy. So maybe, because she’s never had to deal with boundaries or tact with her sister, she kind of…abandons all formalities and just uses her brand new key to open the front door.

(In hindsight, she really should have knocked first.)

“Golly!” Almost immediately, Kara is jumping right back out into the hallway, and the box of donuts is falling to a tragic death on the carpet. Oh no. Oh gosh. This is more embarrassing than trying to climb up the library during an earthquake drill—

She is still sitting on the floor, dumbstruck, with maple glaze smearing on her jeans when the door opens again. Lena Luthor pokes her head out, and she is simultaneously everything Kara expected and everything she didn’t. Per Winn’s description, Lena is indeed “classically beautiful,” and she has one of those faces: slightly closed off, hesitant to emote much. And when she has clothes on, she truly does have the fashion sense of an aspiring college professor, albeit with a touch more lipstick than Kara would expect.

“Okay, maybe I’m crazy,” Lena says slowly, “but did I hear you say that out loud?”

Kara immediately lifts her head up to squint at the direction of the strange voice. Lena has very pretty green eyes, but they are exceptionally confused at the moment. “What?” she says, echoing that same perplexment in her own voice.

“I could’ve sworn you said ‘golly,’ like some kind of peasant in a Christmas Carol or something,” Lena says, as if that’s a totally normal route of conversation to take after being caught naked. She leans halfway out the door, looking down at Kara with that attractive, baffled expression on her face, and all Kara has taken from this encounter so far is that her new roommate is hot.

“I...did say that,” Kara says after a beat. “But in my defense, I was completely surprised.” As one might be walking in on anybody naked, she thinks, but doesn’t actually say out loud.

“Right.” And then Lena frowns, slightly, in a manner that makes her lipsticked mouth twist down a corner. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were coming by today. I could have sworn your text mentioned your move in day being the third.”

Kara stretches her leg out and pretends the sole of her shoe isn’t caked in chocolate icing. “Today is the third,” she points out, and then hastily adds, “And um—I’m sorry. I should have knocked. I just didn’t know you were…”

“Showering,” Lena finishes, at the same time Kara says,

“...a nudist.”

Lena stares. And then she blinks, and then she stares some more. “What?” This time, that careful kind of confusion entirely drops, and now she’s looking at Kara like she has grown two heads. “How do you automatically jump to that?”

“Because you’re naked in the middle of the day?!” It’s pretty self-explanatory in her opinion, but Kara still gets up off the floor in order to better face her new roommate (and because it feels strangely like she is the one being judged right now). “Everyone knows that showering is a night or a morning time thing—walking around naked any other time is weird.”

“Wow,” Lena says, and she actually crosses her arms, further cementing the whole Kara-is-the-one-being-judged thing. “I can’t believe you think nudists are weird. That’s pretty ironic coming from Tiny Tim.”

“Hey, I never said I thought nudists were weird. Just, their hobbies are. Is being naked a hobby?” Kara considers delving into that discussion, but Lena is squinting at her (and Lena has a very piercing squint), so she drops the subject. “Anyway, it’s fine if you’re a nudist. I can just…start wearing sunglasses inside, or something.”

“Because my naked body is that blinding?” Lena scowls. “I don’t go out in the sun much, alright, so sue me for being pale—”

“That’s not what I meant!” Kara blurts, helpless, and she knows in that instant she’s gone entirely red in the face. “I, uh. I didn’t mean to sound judge-y. Really, I don’t care what you do in your spare time. Unless…can I ask if you smoke?”

And it is with that sheepish question that Lena’s affrontive attitude slowly begins to fade. “No,” she says, in a manner that is faintly amused. “But I’m glad that’s your priority. Seriously? Are you really just going to say you’d be fine if I spent every single waking moment in our apartment naked?”

Kara shrugs, still flushed up to the tips of her ears, and makes a valiant effort not to think about that when Lena almost-smiles she can see the indent of a possible dimple on her cheek. “Well, if that’s what you want,” Kara says. “I won’t…stare or anything, I promise.”

“That’s comforting, but I’m not a nudist.” Lena smiles, and yep—dimple—Kara is pretty much done for.

“Okay.”

“No, I mean it.” And then that smile drops as Lena suddenly reconsiders something. “Also, why do you assume it’s weird to be naked in the afternoon?”

Kara gestures vaguely with her hands to where her watch would be. “Because,” she says, “it’s weird to shower in the afternoon.”

“But what if I had been naked for another reason besides showering?” Lena apparently has the ability to raise her whole eyebrow, and it’s unfair how mesmerizing that is.

“Like…non-nudist reasons?” Kara asks, and Lena’s smile comes back in a mischievous form.

“Yes, exactly.”

“Uh,” Kara says ineloquently, and suddenly her mind is coming up with far too many scenarios that she really shouldn’t. “That would be fine. Too. I mean, I can wear earplugs with the sunglasses. Or I can just wait out here too, until you’re…done. The carpet here is pretty comfortable. Is it the same in the apartment? ‘Cause if so, I mean, the landlord really outdid himself. I’ve had carpets that aren’t half as fluffy in hotel rooms that charged way more than—”

Lena cracks the door wider, and then her gaze drifts over towards where Kara’s housewarming donut gift has landed. “Have I broken you?” she asks. “Or are you always this awkward around naked women?”

“I’m—what?” Kara sputters. “I’m completely normal around naked women. Sometimes I am also a naked women.”

“Right,” Lena says, “when you shower in the morning. Or night.”

Kara frowns. “Yes,” she says, “and that's completely normal. And not weird.”

“Noted.” Lena pulls open the door the rest of the way, then throws a dangerous sort of smirk over her shoulder. “You are Kara Danvers, right? I’d hate to have to re-do the apartment tour, so if you’ve just come to break in, I have to warn you: I’m saving for med school, so I pretty much own nothing of value.”

“Yeah, no, I’m...Kara,” Kara says, slightly bewildered, but she gathers her bag and her donut box trash and follows Lena inside; she’ll have to deal with the mess outside later. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself. I just forgot, with the whole…”

“It’s alright.” Lena scrunches her nose up apologetically, suddenly quite sheepish; if Kara had to pick a word, she’d call the tic adorable. “I didn’t exactly introduce myself either. Well, at least in the traditional sense.” She leads Kara into the kitchen, where there is a bottle of wine sitting on the table. “Can I make it up to you with a drink?”

And Kara doesn’t know how, exactly, she’s going to live like this—going to live with the knowledge that her new roommate apparently showers in the afternoon, and drinks a whole bottle of wine alone, and makes sexual references to people she’s known for all of twenty minutes. In other words:

“Yeah,” Kara says, nudging her glasses up her nose and delighting in the curve of Lena’s ensuing smile. “I could go for a drink.”

[ootahime]

analyzing every gojohime moment in the manga >:) pt. 3

more and more paragraphs ahead.  BE PREPARED!

i’m also writing this at 3 am so please bear with the horrendous grammar and punctuation.

chapter 63

i know he’s probably like this with everyone but i love how excited he is bragging about his students to her.  he’s like a child telling his mother about an amazing adventure he had with his friends, making sure he mentions every detail.  in the anime, their conversation lasted for 3:41 :3 backwards 341 is 143 which means i love you.  

1 letter = i

4 letters = love

3 letters = you

chapter 63

i love her fit!  i also like how both of them like to wear baggy clothing that accentuates their collarbones `w` it’s like they’re matching in a way.  even if she did tell him to cut the crap, she still let him run his mouth to his content LOL i feel like if he didn’t compliment himself at the end, she would have said something different.  UGH HE LOOKS SO HAPPY CALLING HER

 ah, let me translate the conversation just in case anyone needs it.

utahime: you wanted to talk about the investigation, right?

gojo: well, got any idea who?

utahime: i have no idea.  no one seems suspicious.  what do we do now?  should we ask the students for help?

gojo: yeah, that’s fine.  i’m busy so asking the kids would be okay.  keep looking.  i’m counting on you.

I THINK THAT’S WHAT THEY’RE TRYING TO SAY.

OR it could mean that she’s asking if they should start investigating the students.  it would make sense either way because gojo says in the next panel that he doesn’t want to assume that the mole is a student, and in chapter 79, gojo sends the trio to utahime to help her.  

chapter 63

these two love their students to death.  neither of them wanted to assume that the mole was a student.  in chapter 79, when utahime is talking to the trio about the mole, nobara points out to the group that the traitor must be from kyoto because utahime is the one who’s reaching out to the tokyo side.  utahime has a dismal look on her face, almost like she’s saying, “i didn’t want it to turn out this way -- for this to be true.”  after mechamaru says his farewells to miwa on the train, mai tries to talk about what he did to which utahime says, “it doesn’t matter, he’s dead, after all,” with a similar sunken expression.  i just love how her care for the students is one of the biggest aspects of her personality that’s been showcased so far.  it’s also cool how it ties together with gojo’s belief that no child’s youth should be taken away.  i truly think these two have the capacity to understand each other to a deep level, down to the core.  seeing as utahime is also a teacher, it’s safe to assume that she also wants to raise the next generation of sorcerers to be strong.  utahime and gojo’s similarities and contrasting elements are so interwined, i really wonder if it’s intentional.  like am i looking too much into this?  are utahime and gojo really meant to be this connected?  think about it.  similar motivations, care of the kids, contrasting palettes, the bickering, long history.  IT’S JUST TOO MUCH. 

also can we mention how their phone calls and meetings must be heavily planned out?  this means they’ve talked and interacted with each other A LOT behind the scenes.  she doesn’t answer his call with “what do you want?  don’t bother me on my day off.”  she knows exactly why he’s calling her and they even speak in code.  she probably meets up with him and tells him to call her on a specific day and at a specific time.  they must know each other’s schedules very well in order to execute this investigation in complete secrecy.  when he says, “we can never be too sure who is listening in around utahime” it implies that they find calling a risk, so in order to guarantee that there is no one around, they have to meet up in person.  see where i’m getting at?  they talk A LOTTT and most likely are aware of each other’s daily lives.  

the fact that gojo is her main source of stress when he’s literally a 3 hour train ride away from her is hilarious LMAOOOO.  you know what that means, right?  he must call and text her constantly about random things to annoy her.  

chapter 65

ah yes, my favorite moment by far.  look at that smile on his face.  

chapter 65

he loves saying her name.  he probably rushed over with the sole purpose of doing something like this to her LMAOOOO like i mean, mei was in there with her so technically they both needed to be helped but judging from his words and expression, he only wanted to help utahime.  notice how mei’s not there in the debris.  could she possibly have suspected gojo’s presence or an outside force?  or was she fast enough to avoid being in the debris?  either way, her lack of presence in this scene helps highlight the fact that this is a special interaction between utahime and gojo.  he refers to her in a very familiar sense.  the most formal way to address someone is by their last name followed by the honorific, -san.  in gojo’s case, he should be calling her iori-san if they weren’t acquainted.  he doesn’t even bother to call her utahime-senpai.  granted, gojo is not the most respectful and socially competent person out there because geto points this out to him.  he isn’t even aware that she finds him annoying because he views her bad attitude toward him as her just playing along with him.  he probably thinks she’s flirting back LOLOL

since he asks her “you cryin?” that definitely means that gojo witnessed her crying on one occasion or maybe multiple.  who knows, the old utahime could have been a very emotional person.  while this is happening, mei is close to gojo, she then asks him if he would console her if she were to cry in a flirtatious manner.  gojo dismisses her attempt at flirting with him and says she won’t cry because she’s strong.  now normally, you’re supposed to face the person you’re talking to, GOJO.  he KEEPS his eyes on her even when more people come to join the conversation.  

now, we can all agree that geto, mei, and shoko are better at picking up social cues than gojo.  they probably knew the vibe of the conversation and decided to play along with gojo’s antics.  

chapter 65

WE were worried about you.

pay attention to the order of the characters that show up.  gojo makes his appearance first, then geto, followed by shoko.  based on utahime’s reaction to seeing shoko, it’s evident that these two share a close bond.  shouldn’t shoko be the one to arrive on the scene first?  she’s the closest to utahime and would therefore be more concerned about her condition, right?  i know shoko’s technique doesn’t really allow her to do anything other than treat the wounds of others, but if you heard your friend was missing, you would definitely rush to the scene.  

look at geto’s reaction when mei says, “you’re the one who’s picking on her, geto.  you don’t even know it.”  i think it’s mei who’s saying this because gojo calls geto “suguru”.  but anyway, mei is aware that they’re picking on her.  i don’t think she’s the type to legitimately bully someone for their strength.  her reaction to all of this is very playful and her “heh heh heh” is proof of that.  when geto shows up and swallows the curse before it gets to utahime, he says, “satoru.  it’s not nice to pick on the weak.”  by saying this, he pisses utahime off because he too, is joining in on gojo’s joke.  i believe he’s unaware that he’s making fun of utahime because his reaction is “gah!” with a sweatdrop.  he probably thought gojo was making fun of weak people in general.  

geto’s usually a gentleman seeing as it is canon that he is more popular with girls than gojo.  BUT WHO KNOWS...you gotta be a specific type of person to be best friends with gojo.  maybe he ain’t shit too...  okay, my point is that everyone is just playing along.  when shoko shows up, utahime is relieved to see her because shoko doesn’t tease her like this.  since utahime tells shoko to not become like those two, this implies that geto teases her as well (probably not as much as gojo).  we all know geto is really big on looking out for the weak so he probably wouldn’t have insulted her for real.  

verdict: utahime being weak is just a joke.  i’ve mentioned this so many times, sorry if it’s getting annoying and repetitive hehehehehe...

chapter 65

these three aren’t irresponsible.  geto and gojo are a troublesome duo for sure, but they’re dependable.  seems unlike them to forget something so simple and essential to pretty much every mission.   

chapter 65

here’s my headcanon.  they were hanging outside or in the car when their assistant manager got a call.  the assistant was informed that two days have elapsed since mei and utahime went on their mission (or last contacted someone).  

gojo: that’s weird.  mei’s with her so they should have finished exorcising the spirit sooner.

geto: you think something happened to them?  maybe it’s a strong special grade.

gojo: utahime probably dragged mei down with her.  poor mei-san~  

gojo gets up 

geto: where are you going?  

gojo: going to save utahime!  it’s fine i’ll put up a curtain!

manager: gojo wait!!!!!!!!!!!

geto sighs

shoko: that idiot’s always running off without us.

they pin the blame on gojo for saying that he’ll put up a curtain and leaving the assistant manager behind.  you know what this means?  he ran and the manager couldn’t catch up HEHE... why the rush, gojo?  were you actually concerned about her?  

tbh i don’t see gojo ever running to something unless it’s urgent.  the fact that he ran to save her says a lot.  

----

let me know if you have any thoughts or questions!  i forgot to add this but gojo had a more serious expression when he was explaining how they must’ve been trapped in a barrier that messes with time.  he then states, “we thought it was weird even though you’re here, mei.”  i know he was probably worried sick because if mei couldn’t be contacted then that means something must’ve happened to utahime too.  okay that’s it for now.  i’ll be bringing up this little detail i’ve noticed about utahime in the manga next :3