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thesoulsofthedarned · 3 months ago

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So I finished the Farewell Rayashki event:

Wow, what an amazing event. Probably one of my favorites in Reverse 1999. I loved watching the story of the townspeople of Rayashki fighting back against Zeno to protect their home with the help of a down-on-her-luck researcher unfold. This was probably the first event story in this game that got me feeling emotional. I think what contributed so heavily to my enjoyment and investment in the story was how we got to familiarize with the town itself, from it’s backstory, to the lives the residents that live there.

Back before 1.8 released on global, I never had much of an opinion on Vila. All I really knew about her was that she was a top tier healer mermaid who liked talking about freedom and stuff. But man, this event story really warmed me up to her as a character. She’s such a lovely teacher for the children of Rayashki, always encouraging them to be open minded and learn new things (kinda reminds me of teachers I used to have). Vila’s also such a brave leader for the people, not afraid to speak her mind on the unfair treatment Rayashki was facing at the hands of Zeno and rousing the townsfolk to band together to find new ore to support the town. I also really liked her relationship with Windsong and how she encouraged Windsong to not give up on her dreams. And that’s not to mention her backstory of being shunned and scorned by humans and rusalka alike, yet being able to find a place where everyone could live in harmony in Rayashki. Such a great character :)

Avgust was such a cinnamon roll. Just about every appearance he made on screen was a delight to watch. He’s got such an odd yet endearing way of interpreting the world around him and that made for some excellent chemistry for him and the other characters. He’s so strange yet so cute at the same time, it’s no wonder my sibling went for him on Vila’s banner (they got Vila but not Avgust btw).

Windsong was definitely the MVP. At first I assumed she’d be like Yelan from Genshin: cool, alluring, mysterious, all the typical tropes you’d expect from a woman like her in a gacha game. Turns out she’s almost nothing like I’d expect. Windsong at first was awkward, anxious, not confident that the study of ley lines will even make a comeback due to past experiences. She was on the verge of giving up, yet throughout the story she’s able to finally prove the study of ley lines can be a valid and useful field with the help and encouragement of the townspeople. Watching her become a teacher for the kids at the school was also heartwarming to watch. Also watching Windsong tell that Zeno guy where to shove it was also pretty satisfying, seeing her developing friendship with Vila and the rest of the town was sweet, watching her slowly helping the town achieve their goals and subsequently reach her own and finally coming to her own as a researcher was so cathartic aaaAAA-

Overall, this event was incredible, thanks in no small part to the excellent writing. I absolutely love this story, and I can’t wait for it to rerun :)

#reverse 1999 #farewell rayashki #god this story was so good #Almost made me cry a couple of times haha #Oh yeah also the soundtrack for this event was full of bangers #Especially the main theme #I love how simple yet melancholic it feels #Fits the title extremely well #May or may not have been the reason I almost cried a couple of times but shhh don’t tell anyone #Kinda sad Rayashki’s gonna get stormed sooner or later #Because last time I checked its mostly just a normal town #Sure the main playable characters and the kids from school will be ok #Because they’re with the foundation #But what about everybody else???#man the thought of Rayashki getting erased makes me so sad :(#I don’t want them all to get thanos snapped after everything they’ve been through #Such is life 😔#Anyways enough depressing talk #go play the new event story you’re gonna love it #Thats all I got for now ok byyye

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kill-the-feels · 2 years ago

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Aliit

a/n: hey y’all! Here’s the final part — the epilogue to Jango’s story!! Thank you to everyone who’s stuck with this from day one. All your comments and likes and reblogs truly make my heart happy. Enjoy!! <3 (previous part) (masterlist)

word count: ~2.5k

warnings: none! Just lots and lots of fluff and implied spicy content and reference to past injuries (very mild/vague)

Building a house takes a surprisingly short amount of time. It isn’t big; just large enough for the four of you to comfortably inhabit. You make short trips to the nearby settlements, bartering for odds and ends that make the house more comfortable, slowly but surely putting down roots by the sea.

You and Jango lay in bed, the sun slanting through the curtains, the shushing of the ocean drifting in through the open windows, the breeze bringing the scent of salt and earth.

The two of you have been awake for the past few minutes, both of you too lazy to get up out of bed.

The giggling outside your door gets louder. Jango reaches over and snags your pillow out from under your head, stuffing it over his face.

“Sounds like we’re about to have guests,” he mutters.

“Hey!” you protest quietly, right before the door pops open and Boba and Jate enter softly. Boba has something behind his back, something living, judging by the way Jate keeps reaching up to help him hold it.

Unceremoniously, he dumps a loth-cat on the bed, the poor creature freezing in fear, torn between running over you or trying to sneak past Boba.

“Boba,” you say, jumping back, taking half the covers with you. The cat hisses, its ears flattening against its head.

“Can we keep it?” he whispers, mistakenly thinking Jango — who hasn’t moved — is still fast asleep.

“Can you- no! It’s a living creature. You’re not keeping it.” He and Jate give you twin pouts, Jate reaching to pet the cat. To your surprise, it purrs and curls into a ball at her touch, settling. Boba looks pleased.

“You just told us we needed to find something to do. About how we should do something productive with our time. Buir, getting a pet will give us that.” it’s hard to argue when he throws your own word back at you. You look between the both of them. Jango is no help, but you can feel the way his side twitches slightly in laughter.

Fine. You’ll show him.

“You promise you’ll take care of it? Promise that I am not going to be the one cleaning up after it?” Both of them nod vigorously. You bite your lip, the only way you can contain your laugh.

“Okay. We can keep the cat.” Boba cheers quietly, snatching the poor creature back up, and the three of them are gone in a rush of giggles, the door swinging shut behind them.

“They get it from you, y’know,” Jango says under the pillow, and you snatch it off his head. He retaliates by reclaiming his share of the covers.

He’s laying on his back, eyes still closed, mouth tilted up in an easy smile.

“Get what?” you poke his ribs gently and he jerks away with a grunt, eyes finally opening. A recent discovery? Jango is ticklish.

“Taking in strays.” You raise an eyebrow. It’s rich coming from him. Jango, who specifically asked for a son, instead of credits, who plucked you up because he couldn’t leave you, who Jate currently has wrapped around her little finger.

As if he wasn’t the one to go over how to clean and shoot a blaster with Jate over and over, until she could do it nearly as well as him, or he wasn’t the one to find a needle and thread to stitch up a tear in Ai-Ai’s tail after the two of them went to bed, or he wasn’t the one to sit in the field for an extra hour, pretending to fix the equipment as he posed for Boba and Jate to draw him, instead of finishing tilling the ground like he wanted to.

But you’re the pushover.

“Please,” you say, poking him again. This time he catches your hand, holding it to his chest, over his heart. With a huff, he rolls over, pinning you to the bed underneath him. You grunt, trying to shove him off, and in response, his hand falls to your side, tickling.

You snort out a laugh, head falling back into a patch of sunlight.

“You know that damn cat is going to become a hassle,” he says, easing up a little, so he can slip his legs in between yours.

“You didn’t see their faces. They clearly- oh!” The last part of your speech is cut off when Jango shifts forward purposely, pressing up against you in the best way.

“Clearly what?” he whispers, not taking mercy on you. You clear your throat, intent on giving as good as you get.

“Clearly were excited for it.” You tighten your grip on his waist with your hips, pushing him over, so you’re on top. He lets you, hand coming to a rest on your hip.

Now, some months past that fateful day, he’s almost completely healed.

His lungs still give him problems sometimes, coughing fits that double him over, leaving you feeling helpless as you cradle him and stroke his back, coaxing him through it.

The scar on his neck has faded, the jagged edges pink. And if his missing hand bothers him, he never says, and he more than makes up for his loss, sometimes more competent than you with both hands.

“You just couldn’t say no to their faces,” he says, stealing a kiss before you can refute his argument.

“Neither could you,” you murmur. “Which is why you put the pillow on your head.”

He tightens his grip around you, pulling the two of you into a sitting position, so you’re sprawled across his lap.

You can feel him press against your center and you bite your lip, trying not to moan as his lips move to a spot just beneath your ear, pressing a final kiss there before moving to your lips.

It starts out lazy, and impossibly, achingly gentle as he simply presses his lips to yours, the two of you just enjoying the contact. But you want more and you’re hungry for it, so you twist your hips, grinding against him, eliciting a perfect, choked groan against your mouth. And then you’re kissing him deeply, practically licking into his mouth as your hands hold the side of his face.

He pulls away from the kiss just slightly, and you bite his bottom lip as he goes, thighs clenching just slightly at the way his own grip tightens on you. His hand, which has wandered all over your body, tightens over your ass and then your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

You can’t quite contain the breathy moan when your chest makes contact with his, and you feel more than hear the low growl he makes in response. Your breaths are coming out as pants now, and with every gasp, your increasingly sensitive nipples brush against the fabric of your shirt and his chest.

“Fuck,” he hisses, dragging his mouth away from yours. Laughter echoes in through the window, followed by a loud meow.

“Got-gotta get up,” he murmurs, even as he pulls you in for another kiss. “Got stuff to do.” You roll against him.

“Just stay,” you say. “It’ll keep.” He kisses down your neck.

“Mhm. Maybe. But it’s important. Remember?” You do, actually. Have been looking forward to it for almost a week now.

Today, you and Jango are making it official. Even though technically, you’ve been together for years, today, he’s really giving you his name.

It takes your breath away.

“Later,” he promises you, giving you one more searing kiss before he stands. You don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you laying in the bed, eyes drinking up the way the patches of sunlight highlight your body, before he finally forces himself out the door to get ready for the day.

You follow soon after, finding Jate and Boba playing with the cat under the kitchen table.

Jate still doesn’t talk, but none of you mind. After all, Jango himself can go through phases where he uses little words, and you and Boba are perfectly fine being the only two talkers — it’s what you’re used to, after all. The four of you have come up with signs and motions that allow you all to understand each other without words anyways.

She’s signing at Boba right now, fingers flying furiously as she argues over something he’s said about the cat.

“We’re arguing over a name,” Boba fills you in. “I want to name it something cool like Killer, and she wants to name it something boring, like Seafoam.” You hide your laugh by turning to the cabinets, setting about making something to eat for everyone. Days of overly bland Kaminoan foods are long behind you, and if you never have to taste a ration bar again, it’ll be too soon. ~~~ The house you’ve built is surrounded by fields of crops Jango has been steadily tending to with the help of you, Boba, and Jate.

“Fett,” he confessed one night under a full moon, “means farmer.” It’s something that his ancestors were quite proud of. Now, he uses it to make a living, instead of bounty hunting. Some of the crops are kept for your own food, the others bartered away at the nearby settlements for other necessities.

It’s such a change from your time on Kamino, the unhurried way in which Jango moves, the very air charged with something different, but in a good way. It’s here you’ve learned that while Jango was very good at bounty hunting, it was never his true passion. Rather, just a way to survive.

The Slave I remains parked up behind the house, at the border to the forest where you, Boba, and Jate go sometimes to forage and see what trinkets you can find.

Jango keeps it ready to fly, just in case, but you know his hope is to not need it for years to come. There’s a pounding coming from behind the house, the clanging of durasteel on durasteel. Jango’s been working on something back there for a few weeks now, but you’ve been put under strict orders not to come investigate. Boba and Jate are in on it, all of them sharing little smiles when you ask if you can know the secret yet. ~~~ There’s another Mando’a word Jango taught you the night before, after Boba and Jate were put to bed. The two of you stayed up, staring at the stars. It’s one of your favorite pastimes now, without Kaminoan clouds to hinder you.

“That one looks like a helmet,” Jango’d said, as the two of you tried to make shapes out of them.

“There’s four all in a row,” you’d replied, curving back into his chest while his arms tightened around you.

“An aliit,” Jango said.

Aliit. Clan or family, he explained. A group of people sworn to protect each other.

Today, the four of you are becoming Aliit Fett.

As the sun sinks in late-afternoon, you step outside, the breeze brushing over your skin, a welcome reprieve from the sunny day. It’s nothing like Tatooine here, with the hot, dry air, or Kamino, with the constant dampness and cold.

It’s the perfect middle, a hidden oasis in the midst of a chaotic galaxy.

Jango is waiting down by the ocean, high enough to avoid the tide, with Boba and Jate, one on each side. The loth-cat darts past Boba, and you hear him shout, “Seafoam!” telling you who won that argument. He’s wearing his armor, minus the helmet, as is tradition. The hole’s long since been patched, the piece heated and molded until you can no longer see where it once was.

You take a step towards him, closing the distance.

Ten feet. Seven. Five. Two.

He extends his hand towards you, drawing you into his arms. Your palms land on his chest, the armor warm from the sun, seemingly alive in its own way beneath you.

“Hi,” you say, and he doesn’t even try to stop the small smile that tilts up the corner of his lips, the secret look in his eyes, the one he reserves for you alone. In the setting sun, this close, you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the few freckles on his nose.

“Hi,” he responds.

Mandalorians, he explained the night before, don’t have marriages in the traditional sense. Instead, they promise to become one, two sides of the same blade, preparing for the future.

He told you the words, in the Mando’a language, and now, as he says them, they flow off his lips in a way you know you can never replicate.

“Mhi solus tome. Mhi solus dar'tome. Mhi me'dinui an. Mhi ba'juri verde,” Jango says. He pauses after each phrase, and on the last one, his voice cracks a little. Boba watches solemnly, and you don’t miss the way he swipes a tear away before Jate takes his hand. You clear your throat, determined to get through this without crying.

“We are one when together,” you say, speaking in Basic, too overcome with emotion to try and translate in your mind.

“We are one when parted.” Jango tightens his hold on you when you say this, pressing his forehead against yours. Another part of his culture, something he never quite told you how meaningful it was until the night before, when he was explaining all this.

“We will share all.” An easy promise to make.

”We will raise warriors." This part. Your voice is a whisper when you say it. Realistically, you know that one day, the galaxy will intrude. Everything outside your little moon is in turmoil now. You and Jango are careful to keep the extent of it away from Boba and Jate — wanting them to be children for as long as they can — but one day.

Even if you don’t like it, one day, the galaxy will pull them away, because the two of you are raising the two of them to be protectors. Leaders. Warriors. It would go against everything if you forced them to stay, to avoid the fight. But for now. Here. This moment.

It is enough.

Jango smooths a thumb over your cheek, wiping away the moisture.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out something. A ring, you realize, made out of part of his armor. It’s the same blue as the painted portions, smoothed and shaped until it fits your finger perfectly. There isn’t enough of his armor to make you a set, something he lamented over the night before, but you couldn’t care less in that moment.

This is a piece of him, a physical part to carry with you no matter where you go.

“Cyare,” he says softly. Beloved. It echoes, over and over in your mind, and you realize, he means so much more than just you.

It’s everything. It’s Boba and Jate and the home, and yes, you.

All of it. For was long as you have it.

Enough. Cherished.

Beloved.

Your aliit.

#Jango fett x reader #jango fett x you #reader insert #fluff #epilogue #this was like tooth rotting to write and i dithered over it being too sappy but then said screw it #Bc they deserve some fluff after all they’ve been through #Thanks for reading!! <3

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