#He's also going to call someone starlight and/or stardust

[anonymous-rendezvous]

Relationship & NSFW Dynamics —

✨ Noctyx Edition ✨

First (1st), we want to re-emphasize that we are writing for the characters. Second (2nd), this is merely our opinion and how we write them.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

🔗 Sonny 🔗

Pet Names: Babe [More often than not, just calls you by name]

╰┈➤ Relationship Dynamic:

The Noctyx's boy with the least amount of past trauma. He's just "VSF!! 💥 💥 💥"

This mans way too busy kicking down doors to be worrying about relationships. Like, Sonny, finding his way into a relationship is completely accidental. In the beginning, he just thinks you are really interesting, and the more time you spend together he starts to find you really attractive and then uh-oh someone’s caught feelings.

He was in so much denial at the beginning of your relationship. Once he's over that, however, be prepared to be sucker punched by random bouts of sweetness. And the fucking duality of this man. You will have whiplash from how sudden he can go from being rough and serious to sweet and silly.

Also, be prepared to be worried 90% of the time because of his job as a police officer with his damn obsession of rushing in and busting doors down.

[[NSFW under the cut!!]]

╰┈➤ NSFW Dynamic: Switch (Dom leaning)

So it's pretty obvious why Dom-leaning but… Switch. Listen, he gives as much as he takes. Like, he's incredibly kind and caring, but also he's a masochist. And a bit of a sadist??? Again: switch. Could see rough play being one of his interests. He likes the idea of you – consensually – taking control of him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

🔮 Uki 🔮

Pet Names: Starlight, Stardust, Babe/Baby, and the occasional Honey

╰┈➤ Relationship Dynamic:

Okay, now not to be a broken record but, once again: we're talking about the characters.

The man's lore is sad™. He's been through some pretty traumatizing stuff, and as a result, we feel like he's not really all that horny most of the time. Also, it's kinda hard to think about romance when you grew up living in survival mode.

He needs someone who will be understanding and patient with him. He’ll also need space at times, but he’s good at communicating that, so if he doesn’t bring it up — get ready to cuddle the fuck up. Most of all, just love him. Pamper him, comfort him, love him. He deserves the world.

And if you don't treat him right? Be prepared to have the Uki protection squad after your ass.

╰┈➤ NSFW Dynamic: Switch (Sub leaning)

Now once he's comfortable with you? That changes things. He'd likely be more open to trying new things, and boy, would his mouth start to run. Overall, just take care of him. Pamper him some more. He deserves it, okay? 🥺He is still a switch, though. And if he finds you cute? Prepare yourself.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

🎭 Alban 🎭

Pet Names: Sunshine, Babe/Baby, Honey, Sweetheart, & Little Cat

╰┈➤ Relationship Dynamic:

Another sad boi 😞 Similar to Uki: it's kinda hard to think about romance when you grew up living in survival mode.

Sadly, this man has trust issues. He has a hard time opening up because he doesn't want to hurt anyone or get hurt. He already lost one dear friend, he doesn’t want to risk losing more people. 

It'll take some time to work through those feelings, but once he does, y'all are fuckin golden. Alban's very doting and extremely caring. He's like a prince without the royalty aspect. He'll be opening doors for you, carrying your stuff- carrying you.

Also, side note? Please tell him to stop stealing expensive gifts for you. Sonny can only let it slide for so long.

╰┈➤ NSFW Dynamic: Switch | Soft Dom

Pure switch right here, baby 🤌

The most bullyable bottom and the softest of Dom's. Could see him having an interest in primal play. Basically playing games of cat and mouse with you. Who's the hunter would likely depend on what kind of mood he's in honestly. He'd never admit it, but he kinda likes it when you take control from him (in a consensual way of course.). Honestly, too? This guy just goes through random bouts of horniness just by looking at you.

Similarly, to some of the other boys, if you ask him to try something new, he'd be pretty open to it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

🐑 Fulgur 🐑

Pet Names: Babe, Little One/Little Lamb (Legatus), Dear, & Sweetie (Archivist)

╰┈➤ Relationship Dynamic:

First things first, we need to make it clear that we typically write a combination of Legatus and Archivist [typically a little more Archivist leaning].

However, it doesn't matter if we're following Legatus lore or Archivist lore; this man has too much shit happening around him, and to him, to be worrying about relationships. But hey, that's alright! He's been sent to the past, so fuck all that! Now he can get rid of all that pent-up anger! :D

In the beginning, you'll get more of the Legatus personality. He'll come off as cold and aloof. It'll take a bit, but as long as you don't give up, you will crack through that hardened exterior. Once you're in the relationship, Archivists' personality shines. Incredibly caring and comforting. He's an old soul.

╰┈➤ NSFW Dynamic: Switch (Dom leaning)

Now, the juicy stuff.

This man will. Fuck. You. Up. He can either be extremely soft or really rough and there's no in-between. Dirty talk and degradation galore during rough play, but only the sweetest praise when he's soft. Sensory play is probably a really big thing for him (both giving and reviving).

Side note; when he's on the reviving end, make sure he keeps his hands on that bed frame. The last thing y'all need is him accidentally breaking any of your bones.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

🎧 Yugo 🎧

Pet Names: Angle, Muse, Babe, Sweetheart, (My) Doll [But only adds the "my" when he doesn't like they way someones looking at you]

╰┈➤ Relationship Dynamic:

4 outta 5, another sad boi less gooo 😂

The only member of this group who at least has some type of experience. Kinda hard to date tho when you're leading a resistance. Honestly, though, this boy is the most straightforward of the five.

First off, this smooth mother fucker. He's very confident in his ability to woo. Be prepared to be rizzed to hell and back. Yugo’s very physical in his affection; he’s a pretty big fan of PDA. More often than not, you’ll find his arm wrapped around your shoulders or waist. Yugo prefers to give personalized gifts.

He's a people person. Man was both a DJ and leader of a revolution, after all. You cannot hide your emotions from him. He can and will read you like a damn book.

╰┈➤ NSFW Dynamic: Dom

He knows you're horny before you know you're horny.

Pure 👏 Dom 👏 Energy 👏. Try to argue with the clapping hand. You can't. Good luck trying to Top this man. It'll be a real struggle. The only time you're on top is when he's literally too exhausted to move.

Also, hope you don't mind getting it on in public places. Has one VIP booth in his club constantly reserved for the two of you. And don't worry, he'll make sure you're never caught.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Btw if you guys are interested in seeing a post just dedicated to scenarios with some of the kinks we think the bois have, then this post needs to hit at least 300 notes. Hope you enjoyed~

-Mod I ✨ & Mod S 👿

P.S. Want a say in what we write more of? Please answer this form!

[brokendreamscreation]

The six blue wings ungulate when they are flapped, a steady rhythmic motion that propels Lucid further into the galaxies. A rainbow palette of ashen clouds and gas that rival Heaven’s beauty, stars twinkling in the distance that remind the angel of tinkling bells. This vast outer space where he could change the scenery with a mere flick of a finger is his domain.

The Dreamscape.

Not many have access here, where the subconscious and fabrics of the universe fold into one another. Astral lines carry life forces and souls like an invisible current through the universe, but also the mind. Doors that open and let the curious wander. Humans have speculated about “dream walking”, astral projections, dream guides and even sharing dreams with another person. It’s these crossroads that Lucid oversees, finding the dreams that need his care and guidance the most. Like a gardener overseeing his crops, nurturing and providing the means for them to grow healthy and strong.

Lucid stops at a cluster of dreamspheres, checking them to ensure there are an ample variety at the ready to be deployed. Carefully woven lucid dreams to hand out to the souls of those that need that nudge, some comfort, or enlightenment to keep their dreams alive. No, he could not save all dreams. Many, like children, dream of the impossible, or not yet possible. Material things that will not influence them towards a better future or staying on the path to righteousness. They are certainly some of the most entertaining dreamers! Lucid adores watching how wild and colorful their dreams can be, not yet tethered to the knowledge and limitations of reality. But his priorities and duties lie in uplifting, comforting and inspiring dreamers, and that is what these glass spheres with small galaxies and worlds inside would do.

Once he is done here Lucid plans to venture further, beyond the boundaries that the few angels that can traverse this plane dare to go. Out there where the starlight thins and darkness enraptures its visitors like a cold blanket. For decades Lucid avoided the darkest reaches of this subconscious scape, frightened of the nightmares that lurk out there and God only knows what else. But one day, the angel felt a force he had never come across before, and like a sirens voice it beckoned him closer. It was there that Lucid found the part of the dreamscape that belongs to the Sinners and Hellborn, where Hell dreams. And at the center of it all, him. This calling was the start of the seraph’s most grand and daring adventure, why he suddenly snuck out of Heaven in search of answers.

In search of Lucifer Morningstar.

Meeting and observing the King of Hell from the dreamscape alone could not keep Lucid satisfied. No, he had to meet him in person! That first leap sealed the Angel of Dreams fate. Again and again he snuck out of Heaven to see his predecessor, joined him for tea and biscuits, meander the palace grounds and practice magic together. For the first time it felt as though Lucid met someone who truly understood him, embraced him, accepted him for who he really was. And in turn the lonely King had a companion, one that refused to stay away. To help uplift and respark those snuffed dreams and rise to the occasion with newfound inspiration and joy.

The Morningstar and Eveningstar. Together they seem to complete one another.

As Lucid becomes lost in his memories and thoughts of the Devil, they manifest themselves into golden dust illusions that run about the open space. The silhouette of two angels with apple cheek marks, one with a hat and the other not. Round and round they go, their silhouette wings soaring them across the sky and leaving trails of stardust in their wake. The Angel of Dreams laughs with delight, watching this little show play out around him as the magic silhouettes dip in and out around the floating crystal orbs.

A brightly glowing spear cuts through the air, slicing through the two angel silhouettes, their faces contorting in agony as they dissipated. Lucid spun around, eyes wide and alarmed as he watched the trusty weapon recall to its owners open hand. To his horror, the one angel the seraph feels nothing but fear for hovered nearby.

It is Micah, one of the lead seraphim and doppelgänger to Archangel Michael.

“I’ve speculated that you were visiting with the Devil for quite some time now, but I could never figure out how it all began. But now I understand. You found him here, did you not?” Micah’s words held the weight of a gavel and cold as stone. Silver hues boar into the younger seraph, like a polished blade with dagger sharp edges. His jaw clenched tight and lips thin, brow heavy. Lucid is more than familiar with the seraph’s anger, but this…it is a look of loathing one may make at a criminal who committed a truly heinous felony.

Lucid remained frozen in place, his body trembling. “H-how did you get in here? You’re not supposed to be here!”

“And you are not supposed to be getting acquainted with traitors. Making “friends” with Heaven’s forsworn enemies.”

Shaking his head vigorously, Lucid snaps his wings like the crack of a whip, frustrated and frightened. “Th-this is the Dreamscape. You can’t be in here, Micah! You’re not allowed to. This is my realm, my work! You need to le-”

Micah’s hand darts forward, closing around the blue seraph’s throat. His steely eyes narrow, a sneer curling upon his lips. In his grasp Lucid thrashes and kicks, hands pulling frantically at the bigger angels arm, raking nails against his skin. He may as well be fighting a statue. Micah lifted the struggling, flapping seraph, tightening his grip until he hears a satisfying choke. “My duty is to serve God the Almighty, Heaven, and my predecessor. You have no authority, not even in your precious little fantasy world of make believe.” Canting his head, Micah growled in a low voice. “Do you enjoy playing Creator, little pin cushion? Spinning your magic to make worlds, animals, light, darkness, and manipulate anyone in their unconsciousness? To sway those from the path with your dreams and illusions?”

Tears bead at the corners of Lucid’s eyes, the grip around his throat crushing his windpipe. He need not breathe to survive but the absolute terror and pain of the grip puts him in a desperate frenzy. Finger digs against the porcelain arm of the black winged seraph, feet kicking but barely making contact with Micah’s front. Not even six wings can break him free of the hold. However he is not shit-outta-luck yet. Along his wings and body open wide dozens of seraphim eyes. In an instant they begin to glow with Heavenly light until Lucid’s whole form appears super charged. Unleashing the power discharges a force that throws both angels away from one another and shatters all the nearby dreamspheres. Their magic glistens and swirls in a massive cloud of colors before dimming to nothingness. All Lucid’s hard work, gone and destroyed. Shattered dreams in an endless void.

The seraph has no time to mourn the loss of his creations, hands clutching his throat and chest as he coughs violently for air, his trachea opening once more. The dull dust of the dreamspheres continue to swirl, the momentum quickening until a vortex of shadows billow around Lucid. The sound it makes is a deep rumble that grows into a roar, what many humans may compare to the chugging of a train. Fear paces the angels heart at an even faster pace, wide blue eyes darting for an exit at the vortex grows taller. All six wings unfurl and pump downward, sending Lucid higher in an attempt to escape. As he nears the mouth of the cyclone, two bright glints appear, crossing a pair of spears into an X above, blocking the seraphs escape. Did Micah summon those? What is he doing?! “MICAH! LET ME OUT! LET ME LEAVE!”

The answer Lucid receives is both spears suddenly pivoting with their arrow tips facing downward, hurtling at high speed towards the angel. Twirling and closing his wings, he barely dodges the attack. But it’s not over. Spear after spear appears, now in the entirety of the vortex, hurtling at him. The vortex itself begins to tighten its radius, giving less room for Lucid to dodge. In seconds a spear pierces through a wing, and then another. Crying out in pain, the angel is set off balance, his right side grazing the edge of the swirling shadows, stripping feathers from his wings. Lucid retracts and falls, screaming as he twirls like a doomed helicopter.

In a final desperate attempt to escape, Lucid once more charges himself with holy light, building it even longer this time before exploding the force outwards. In an instant the vortex of shadows and spears are dispelled, revealing the open space of the Dreamscape once more. Still spears stick through Lucid’s wings, as though an attempt to pin him like a bug to a display had been made. Shimmering, starry tears stream down the seraphs face, choking out a sob. Micah has certainly been violent in the past with him, but never to this degree. What has gotten into the dark winged seraph?!

“Just as I thought. Weak.” A new voice speaks, one Lucid recognizes. Snapping around to face him, Lucid stares in horror at Lucifer. But to his shock, it is not the King of Hell.

Lucid faces himself.

Another Lucid Eveningstar, this one with eyes of ice blue and judging gaze. Instead of the whites and blues of his attire, he is adorned in deep blues and orange. Large blue horns protrude from his forehead, curving backwards over his blond hair. Hands held behind his back and chin tipped high, this Lucid gives a foreboding and commanding air. Confusion and horror rack the young seraphs brain. Is this an illusion put on by Micah? By Lucifer? Or something else entirely?

“Who-who are you? What do you want?! How did you even get in here?!” Lucid shouts at the imposter, golden blood soaking his blue wings from the angelic spears that pierce through them. The doppelgänger doesn’t say a word nor move an inch, simply staring with cold judgement. “WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME?!”

“For you to learn.” Raising a hand from behind his back, the devilish Lucid snaps his fingers and summons forth another surge of shadows. They rush the angel with such force it is as though he is dragged by a rip current. Unable to fight it, Lucid cries out as he is dragged away through the dreamscape. The shadows force him to the entrance of the dreamscape and throw him forcibly out. Falling from the domed ceiling of his workshop, Lucid screams. His body crashes to the polished floor of the room, cracking it under the momentum and rendering him unconscious. Not a single light spear remains in his wings, as though they were never there. Above the outer space like world of the Dreamscape continues to rotate as it always has, nothing out of the ordinary except for the unconscious dreamer below.

[Micah is my Michael clone on @promiseofabrotherskeeper ]

[Harbinger Lucid is inspired from the Unholy Crusade event]

[sakkiichi]

MATCHUP FOR MY DEAR @yourangel137

Suzy, love, I really do hope you like this <3 thank you so much for trusting me with your info, it really helped me determine your best match 🌸

I took into account your personality traits, your preferences and your hobbies, once again I hope I managed to write this according to your expectations.

your genshin impact match is the embodiment of both the sun and the moon: bright and welcoming, yet with a depth of magnetism and mystery if you look just beyond the surface. Although carefree and extremely charming at first glance, don’t let his allure misguide you: he is extremely caring and protective, going to any lengths needed if he so must just to keep you safe. he is definitely the kind to provide conversations for hours, his variety of topics never boring, as if casting a spell over you, you could listen to him endlessly. but because duality clings to him in flames and shadows, he is a dedicated listener as well, refusing to drop the topic until you’re done with all that troubles you.

well, you might have already guessed who’s starring in today’s performance, no? However, let us rise the curtains and meet…

✧ LYNEY

Closed off and leaning on the shyer side are no setbacks at all to Fontaine’s famed magician. Lyney is very curious about you, and all the beautiful secrets hiding behind quiet words and that bashful smile of yours.

Adept in the art of performing, he is also a pro at making you feel comfortable around him; be it his playful yet sincere smiles, the little magic tricks he performs for you or just the enigmatic warmth he radiates, you feel safe around Lyney.

You mention you’re family-oriented and love animals. Lyney is someone who cherishes his family deeply, as proven by his devotion to Lynette and Freminet, he’d literally go to hell and back again for them, and for you. So seeing that same trait reflected in your character as well makes his heart beat in ways he didn’t believe possible before; this is definitely different from being under someone else’s protection… is this what they call love?

Getting hurt by someone else’s words shouldn’t be a problem if you’re dating Lyney. He reads people quite well, plus his speech and mannerisms are inherently enchanting; gentle with you in a playful and mischievous way that makes you feel like royalty (he’d be damned if he didn’t make it known how special you are to him).

Forgiving and giving others chances are qualities of yours that I believe would be beneficial to Fontaine’s beloved illusionist. His past is not exactly the most easy to stomach, and he certainly won’t come clean about it at first. But with the time and nurturing you give him, you both will figure things out together.

After all, that’s the love song written in cursive for you in the distant starlight…

—

Reflections of the universe seem to sift through your fingers as you comb through his hair.

The night is quiet, as if waiting with bated breath for the greatest show to start.

In his lover’s lap, a magician lays the riddles of his magic, unspoken spells coming alive with no wave of wand when he’s around you.

“Does this feel good, Lyney?” You softly utter, fireflies stilling on flowerbeds, spectators of the sweet tale unfolding.

Eyes of lumidouce blooms conceal behind snowy lashes, not in the impenetrable way of the rings of fire he set aflame when painful memories were unearthed, no; but in a serene manner, as if the magic he commands was born from your touch.

“Mm, ma chérie…” Your beloved hums, stardust dotting his fine visage. “It does… but I know a way to make it even better…”

“Oh?” You smile at him, your movements continuing, as your free hand is tenderly caught by his.

“Sing for me, angel.” He whispers, gaze now focused solely on you. Because now, and always, Lyney couldn’t care less about the audience, as long as you were standing there, starry eyed and smiling.

“But Lyney…” Heat spreads through your cheeks, akin to a flock of doves set free from inside a mage’s hat. “Are you sure…?” You tentatively venture, the rhythm of your heart picking pace, already dancing to the symphony to be sung.

“Completely, my rose.” Your boyfriend offers, reassuring you with a gentle squeeze to your hand.

“A-alright…” You hesitate for an instant, and then, the true magic begins. Honeyed notes fill the auditorium of you and him, butterflies and nightingales swaying to your waltz; pluie lotus and romaritime flowers seem to come alive under the veil of your melody, almost glowing in the dim starlit lake; even the moon has appeared to lend an ear, her shawl of misty clouds opening up to the view of this private stage.

This must be what true love feels like. Is the thought flashing through the magician’s mind, his body feeling weightless, nectarine warmth wrapping tenderly around him.

As your song continues, your vocal chords loosen, the passion that you sometimes conceal spreading its fiery wings, flying you both to the faraway stars.

Instants like this one, where your truest feelings become center stage… That’s the greatest show to your partner.

What else could he need, when he has the night and your angelic voice all to himself?

And what more could you want, when the lines of his face look so utterly at peace?

This is your own idyll, its gates open only by the incantation of his lips on yours.

—

Another reason that made me choose Lyney as your genshin match is because of his caring nature. The famous magician will not, under any circumstance, allow you to forget to take care of yourself. As seen when he interacts with his family, Lyney is naturally shielding towards them, their wellbeing a priority to him. And that, of course, applies to you too.

Be it because of large crowds, too much stimulation from the environment or any other reason, Lyney somehow always manages to appear just in time to hold your hand. If you need to, he’ll hug you tight, as you bury your head in the crook of his neck, his pyro vision offering a comforting warmth to fend the cool seeping into your bones.

Lyney thinks it’s absolutely adorable that you enjoy childish things: from pretty dresses to plushies, to cute accessories, rest assured he’ll either make them appear right before your very eyes or buy them for you (I mean, he earns enough as a performing magician, but even if that wasn’t the case, seeing you happy is worth more than any amount of mora).

Your hobbies quite align with Lyney’s lifestyle too. Crocheting is one of your passions, so I can definitely see him including the plushies you sew in magic tricks he performs for children. Their smiles as they hold the dolls you make in their little hands are truly adorable.

Alternatively, I can imagine you giving stuffed animals to some of Fontaine’s less favored children, our star magician smiling melancholy and fondly, completely in love with the kindness you radiate (that could be how you met/your first interaction, with him being absolutely whipped from the first moment).

As for qualities you seek in a significant other, well, he definitely fits plenty of them: he’s shorter than you (and he’d melt every time you kiss his forehead); he can be both mature and playful, he just won’t shut up (affectionate), but knows when to be serious and lend an ear too; he’ll keep you safe without a doubt, plus he’s familiar with the night life in the city; you’d have to chase him a little too, he may seem all smiles and sunshine, but let me tell you, there’s shadows to unfold as you get to know him more. Even so, he’ll open up to you and be honest, it just might take him a while.

As for the insecurities you harbor, Lyney will be sure to make them vanish with a snap of fingers: he’s a natural charmer, his compliments leaving you speechless in the best way every time. Oh, and yes, he definitely takes that chance to steal a kiss or two hehe (don’t blame him, he loves you too much).

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Other matches I considered: Kaedehara Kazuha, Childe.

✧ RUNNER UP: SHENHE

She, too, fits most of your preferences.

She is very protective. I’m telling you, all hell will break loose if anyone ever dares harm you or make you uncomfortable.

Shenhe is mysterious, not letting many people close to her. But the lucky ones who get to truly know her (that is, obviously, you) are rewarded with one of the gentlest souls ever.

You mention you’d find someone both childish and mature interesting. While not exactly childish, Shenhe is still learning about many things from the human world. Her cluelessness is quite adorable at times.

I believe too that your soothing nature and fondness for childish things pair very well with her more detached and closed off self.

In a modern au, I know Shenhe would undoubtedly be the type to win a huge teddy bear or any big plushie you’d like at a fair.

She is not familiar with the concept of music, so wouldn’t it be beautiful, for her to learn about it by listening to your voice? The way her eyes sparkle, dawn rays over frozen streams, is enough to mesmerize you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Other matches I considered: Raiden Ei, Ganyu.

[theink-stainedfolk]

The Moon Child and The StarBoy 

There was no mistake. Destiny never made a mistake. That was until Fate intervened. The Fate, the power even Destiny cannot control. This was the moment where, the star, fell on the moon.

Mani Ormani was wandering around the bustling market of Carran, the Starlight market. A very famous district,  which has multiple markets within. From people from another countries to small businesses to gypsies and street vendors. Mani never liked people. Maybe he did, but he never felt the urge to talk or understand them, yet he can read them with ease. Is that who they call 'freak'? he thought. Mani saw an alley, that had one to no shoppers. He decided to go inside. Few steps later, he saw a small shop. Not so small that people cannot see it, yet they decided to ignore it. 

The shop had a magical feel to it. Even from the outside, it was visible. There were star lamps dangling from the ceiling. There was a small shelf holding as many books as possible. And then appeared its possible owner. A guy holding his hair up in a ponytail, his dark skin emphasizing his white freckles all over his body. He was dusting the shelf. Mani took his chance and entered the shop. The owner turned towards him and smiled. "Hello sir! Welcome to Stories and Stardust." He was so intrigued by the boy that he didn't even noticed the shop's name. "Uh, I… am Mani Ormani?.." he said awkwardly. He boy was surprised. He didn't expected an introduction,  regardless he replied with a smile. "And I am Izar Tyrel. Pleasure to meet you. Would you like to read or make a wish?" This was one weird store.

"I'm….I'm sorry. This is my first time here….and i… i don't really know…" Mani stuttered, this was his first time making a conversation with someone. He never talks, other people talk for him. Like his cousin, who makes the right order at coffee shops, but he wasn't here this time.

"It's fine sir." Izar said. "Our firsts can be awkward and confusing. But don't worry, you have me to guide you. Please sit while I explain." Mani sat on a velvet sofa so soft he mistook it for a bed.

"Our shop, may not be popular, that's why you may be a hard time understanding us. We serve stories to insomniac and wishes to hopeless. Our aim is to reduce self harm. We make lockets from stardust to give it to the visually, physically and verbally impared, so they can make a wish on the stars so that their wishes may come true. Stories are also for the people who are tired from reality and need a break." He said. Mani thought why wasn't a shop like this popular, when many people harm themselves. 

"People sometimes don't want to be understood, like a puzzle not wanting to be solved." Izar said like he read Mani's mind. "Sometimes people like being alone. And sometimes they don't think this it the solution to their wounds, and think maybe giving themselves more wound will dull the pain. And most of all, people don't want to look vulnerable, in front of the people who they love, and the people they just met."

"Do you give company to antisocial people too?" Mani said after a silence. Izar looked at him with a look Mani couldn't describe for the first time. It was his night sky like appearance and Riddle like personality, urging Mani to know him more, to unravel Izar deeper. Izar smiled, "If that's what you desire. Then I shall provide you company for as long as you wish."

".....Thankyou, Izar."

"Welcome Mani. See you tomorrow. "

This phenomenon was known as 'when star fell on the moon'. The mysterious moon, giving up his usual behavior, for the charming and intriguing star.  The moon who has never taken interest in anyone, was for the first time, willingto be involved with a star, who he couldn't decipher. 

They say, a mystery loves another mystery…

[rphelperblog]

This Savage Song Book Quote Rp Meme

book by V. E. Schwab - feel free to edit and change pronouns for rp purposes

“He could be the monster if it kept others human.”

“Every weakness exposes flesh,and flesh invites a knife.”

“It was a cruel trick of the universe that he only felt human after doing something monstrous.”

“I am holy fire. And if I have to burn the world to cleanse it, so help me, I will.”

“And she was happy. The kind of happy that smoothed time into still frames.”

“Why did everyone have to ruin the quiet by asking questions? The truth was a disastrous thing.”

“There would be a time to call the music. Time to summon the souls.”

“Safe. That is a pretty word.”

“Nobody gets to stay the same, little brother.”

“Why are there so many shadows in the world? Shouldn’t there be just as much light?”

“It was a cycle of whimpers and bangs, gruesome beginnings and bloody ends.”

“You don’t spend every day wondering why you exist, but don’t feel real, why you look human, but can’t be. You don’t do everything you can to be a good person only to have it constantly thrown in your face that you’re not a person at all.”

“There are no monsters in the dark.”

“Why would you even want to be human? We’re fragile. We die.”

“The perfectly good car comes with a perfectly dangerous girl.”

“You also live. You don’t spend every day wondering why you exist,but don’t feel real, why you look human, but can’t be. You don’t do everything you can to be a good person only to have it constantly thrown in your face that you’re not a person at all.”

“Nobody gets to stay the same.”

“I'd rather be able to see the truth than live a lie.”

“I mean, most people want to escape. Get out of their heads. Out of their lives. Stories are the easiest way to do that.”

“but all cities were icebergs, the real power underneath”

“The beautiful thing about books was that anyone could open them.”

“You wanted to feel alive, right? It doesn't matter if you're monster or human. Living hurts.”

“All he knew was that he was a body in search of motion.”

“I am not a monster, that’s what he wanted to say, but he couldn’t. He hadn’t found a way to make it true”

“The moment I met you, I knew you were different.”

“Being. Not being. Giving in. Holding out. No matter what I do, it hurts.”

“He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of this life,”

“Her world became a heavy beat, a rhythm, an angry voice.”

“There's a big difference between can't and won't.”

“Self-righteous and prone to speaking in third person?”

“He wasn't made of flesh and bone, or starlight.

He was made of darkness.”

“There was difference between the inability to lie and the need to speak the truth.”

“And she was *happy*. The kind of happy that smoothed time into still frames.”

"Maybe that's what you're made of. Just like us."

“People are users. It's a universal truth. Use them, or they'll use you”

“He felt alive – so alive – but tarnished, his sense screaming and his head a tangle of dark thoughts and feelings and power, and he was drowning and shivering and burning alive”

“People will die,"

“No one saw me go. No one thinks to look for someone who's always there. “

“That’s what he told himself, over and over and over until he believed it, because truth wasn’t the same thing as fact. It was personal.”

“I read somewhere that people are made of stardust."

“People are users. It’s a universal truth. Use them, or they’ll use you.”

“Being. Not being. Giving in. Holding out. No matter what I do, it hurts.“Why did everyone have to ruin the quiet by asking questions? The truth was a disastrous thing.”

“You wanted to feel alive, right? It doesn’t matter if you’re monster or human. Living hurts.”

“He’d made the world a little better, or at least, prevented it from getting worse. That was his purpose. That was his point. Someone”

"You were right worst plan ever".

“Yeah, I mean, most people want to escape. Get out of their heads. Out of their lives. Stories are the easiest way to do that.”

“If she'd learned anything from her father, it was that composure was control. Even if it was just an illusion.”

“Not heights,Just falling.”

“because truth wasn’t the same thing as fact. It was personal.”

“Not with a bang, but with a whimper.

In with gunfire and out with smoke.”

“The truth was a disastrous thing.”

“You’re a really shitty monster,“

“It's a monster's world.”

“t was amazing how easy it was to think in straight lines when he was in motion, even without his violin.”

“Even if surviving wasn't simple, or easy, or fair.

Even if he could never be human.

He wanted the chance to matter.

He wanted to live.”

“Good and bad were weak words. Monsters didn’t care about intentions or ideals. The facts were simple. The South was chaos. The North was order. It was an order bought and paid for with blood and fear, but order all the same.”

“That pendant may protect you from the monsters, but it won’t protect you from me.”

“People are users. It's a universal truth. Use them, or they'll use you.”

“She'd seen a documentary once, on cult leaders, and the traits that made them so effective. One of the most important features was a commanding presence. Too many people thought that meant being loud, but in truth, it meant someone who didn't need to be loud. Someone who could command an audience without ever raising their voice.”

“But there was something else, too, a strange excitement at the idea of playing normal, and every time he tried to untangle how he felt, he just ended up in knots.”

[foxsfiction]

So, I was just looking up funny things that dads call their kids and I thought of Rockstar Freddy and his signature phrase 'superstar'

Fox does that now, he calls his kids superstar now. I do make the rules here, so that's the rule now.

[short-and-ugly]

non-assorted daycare attendant headcanons

Sun & moon are collectively referred to as "the daycare attendant". I think if Steel Wool really wanted us to think they were separate people, they'd call them the attendants.

Powered by kinetic energy! He has to keep moving or else he'll power down. He can convert caffeine into energy in a pinch.

He is the animatronic that has to be sent to parts and services the most, with Monty right below him. He doesn't get sent for maintenance or broken parts-- he was built far too durable for kids to break him, and he cleans himself pretty well. No, he gets sent for personality adjustments. He's the animatronic that has the most "breakdowns". A lot of people have quit working after witnessing/having to shut him down.

The tiny handprints on his back are stains! Clean, but he just can't get them out, no matter how hard he tries.

Sun isn't allowed out of the daycare, nor is he allowed to touch staff. The other animatronics count as staff.

Moon, however, is allowed. During patrol, at least. If he's active during open hours, he follows the same rules and regulations as Sun.

He isn't supposed to be as obsessive/needy/scary as he is in game. Man's supposed to watch kids, for Pete's sake! The virus got to him differently. Cause he's coded specifically to protect and take care of small children? Or something else? Who knows.

Nicknames for friends are just as over the place as names for him are! One person calls him Sun, another Sundrop, another Sunrise. He calls them sunshine, sunlight, sunbeam, starlight, starbright, starshine, stardust--

Touch receptors, aaaallll over. Gotta know when someone's toddler is ferociously tugging at your foam sunrays.

Which also means he can stub his toe and feel it. All that he'd be able to say about it is [boing.sfx], though. (Swears or fillers are replaced with cartoonist stock sound effects).

The destroyed staff bots in his room are actually salvages from Monty's many rampages. Most get thrown into the dump, but those that survive enough to possibly be repaired were put in the attendant's room. Eventually, they were forgotten. Sun wouldn't dare touch them, to risk getting in trouble for doing something even though no one cares anymore. Moon has no such reservations. He's the part that scribbled marker all over the bots' bodies.

He doesn't know how the arcade machine got into his room, other than it happened after Vanny made everyone... go underground. He's tried getting it out, aware that the staff has been looking for it, but he can't get it through his tube. He can only hope that no one comes in and blames him for stealing it.

Has many different voice settings: Sun, for when he's playing with kids on day mode; Moon, for when he's playing with kids on night mode; Singing, for when he wants/needs to sing something (typically a lullaby as Moon); Patrol/Intruder, for after hours; and Imitation. He collects data about the voices around him and mimics them. He usually uses this for puppet shows-- but sometimes it's fun to surprise a kid with Freddy's voice. He can't sing while imitating, though, so if you asked him to all anyone would hear is an extremely tone-deaf Freddy. If someone down the hall didn't know any better, they'd probably think Fred was malfunctioning.

Remembers nothing from patrol mode, which is why it's so much easier for Vanny to manipulate Moon.

Moon's eyes aren't red during night mode-- actually, only the one on the crescent glows, and it glows a soft blue.

He's definitely looked at his room/attic and asked what the point of cleaning the mess was. There's a little discarded broom right above the broken pile of glass. It breaks my heart thinking he broke something and started to clean it, only to give up part-way through because no one ever comes up there. I love breaking my own heart ❤️

He's also definitely used that one pillow pile next to the arcade to pretend to sleep.

A lot of people seem to think that Sun's level of intelligence is equivalent to that of a child-- but I have to disagree! Sure, he's explosive and seems childish, but have you ever seen an actual daycare? They've gotta be enthusiastic! He needs to match all the kids' energies! I think he knows a lot more than he lets on...

Probably has (limited) access to the internet. It's always a good thing to fuel a child's curiosity! Unless it's not. Then he asks the parents to talk to the kid 🧍🚶

I like to think he'd be decent at drawing. Not full-blown Da Vinci, but enough to draw a character on a kid's arm and not have them throw a tantrum. (He absolutely does still draw stick figures with them, though).

He's probably met the others on patrol, but doesn't remember. He's very cold-shouldered when in that mode. That's probably the reason why the others haven't ever gone to the daycare area for reasons outside of parties.

He doesn't count as a mandated reporter-- but the human staff do! The daycare attendant is much better at recognizing signs than humans are, and is always quick to report.

Takes pinkie promises VERY seriously.

More of a scenario but. It'd be cool if he's seen another daycare attendant. A copy from another establishment, brought in for repairs? A replacement? I just wanna know what his reaction would be... the concept of a existential Sun/Moon intrigues me in a way I can't explain. Asking if he's the first one, or if he's been replaced multiple times. Like that one scene that spurred Glam Fred's own crisis!

Can do quick scans to check for ailments, injuries, or mental states!

Could likely walk around the daycare centre blindfolded.

The hook in his back usually catches onto ropes from the ceilings, but he also has an additional coil inside of him that can shoot out from his back, on the off-chance that he isn't in the daycare.

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 3

Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: You and Din have an unexpected heart-to-heart about what it means to be Death and a Cupid on route to a planet where Din’s potential soulmate lives.

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,500

Warnings: Pining, smidge of angst, more plot development, Razor Crest (RIP I miss you darling!), a made-up home world for the reader (yes, yes, there’s like a million I could have picked but my brain said NOPE)

Author Note: Ahhhh, the comments are so amazing from you all! Thank you everyone out there sparing time to check out my little universe, it makes me sooo happy you have no idea! As always, I hope you enjoy this new segment as I try to plot this story out and get these two idiots to acknowledge there just might be something between them. 

Also special thanks to @codenamewitcher​​ for including the first two parts on Weekly Fanfic Recs. Be sure to go check out the list for a whole bunch of fantastic stories!

Links to Part 1, Part 2 and Part 4

Photo Inspiration: (What I imagine is beneath the armor in this scene...*dreamy sigh*)

There is a distinct silence that can only be found in hyperspace when the stars outside resemble sparkling streaks of silver tinsel and your breath is trapped within your lungs as you’re awestruck by the sheer beauty of it all. You experience this silence aboard the Razor Crest, sitting in the cockpit behind Din as he pilots his beloved gunship. It isn’t the first time you’ve been a passenger, having traveled with Din on two previous ventures where your Cupid services were required on planets far away from your home on Umbriel.

Off-world assignments for you were generally rare since your bosses were more inclined to choose Cupids of higher ranking to handle those clients, but sometimes you were the only available option left. Which, come to think of it, is exactly how you became the one roped into meeting with Death every full moon. Your bosses decided someone needed to check up on him to make sure he wasn’t reaping anyone before their fated time and thus messing with the natural order of things. You privately have reached the conclusion it was a decision made during a fit of paranoia as you had yet to find any evidence suggesting Din ever broke a single one of the universe’s rules, let alone even considered the mere possibility.

When you did travel for assignments, you never stopped feeling like a goldfish being dumped out of your familiar little bowl and into a massive ocean full of strange oddities. You would often find yourself wasting time trying to successfully navigate the unknown world when you should have been focused on tracking down your client’s soulmate.

That’s why Din had offered to start traveling with you. Actually, in his own words it was because, “You think about love so much you don’t see trouble until it’s an inch in front of you. Someone’s got to be there to look after you.”

You’d tried to argue, told him you had never experienced trouble and that if you did then you could handle it with your bow. All Cupid’s were required to master archery for self-defense purposes, though Din’s responding snort of derision made you suspect he wasn’t convinced of your skills. You wondered if he thought, just as humans incorrectly did, a Cupid only used their bow to spread love and lust. Or maybe he just thought you weren’t capable of such finesse. It was an insulting assumption, fueling you with the burning desire to prove him wrong. One day, you keep telling yourself, a repetitive chant. One day you’ll show him just how capable you are with your weapon and you imagine his look of shock, whether worn openly on his face or hidden beneath the visor of his helmet, will be utterly priceless.

But in the meantime, you’re in no hurry to encounter trouble. Finding enjoyment in taking these trips with him on his ship instead.

The Razor Crest had actually been a complete surprise to you when Din first welcomed you on it; primarily because the notion of him using such a primitive form of transportation despite the powers he possessed as Death was too outrageous to wrap your head around. However, it took less than ten minutes soaring through space for you to discover just how many details of the universe you were missing by relying on your Cupid abilities to teleport yourself between locations. Never would you have imagined Death to be the one to teach you to love the slowness of travel, to let your eyes linger on all the beautiful wonders along the way. But that’s exactly what happened.

You turn your head away from the window to look at Din. From your angle, all you glimpse is the back of his helmet, reflecting the passing starlight. Soon you’ll be introducing Din to the first immortal on your list of potential soulmates.

Death, you quickly correct yourself. He’s only Din when he’s around you.

You initially thought he elected to wear his armor because you told him he could to ease his comfort, but now you think it’s because this is him meeting his potential soulmate as himself. It is easy to forget sometimes this is the image of Death—a warrior enshrouded in beskar, cunning and ruthless—that is recognized throughout the universe. And feared.

If the handsome face he concealed was known instead, you wonder if mortals would readily choose to embrace the ending of their lifetime, rather than foolishly seek to run from its inevitability.

“What is it?” Din’s baritone voice startles you as it shatters the quietness. The modulator within his helmet gives his tone a low raspiness that never fails to send a chill down your spine when you hear it.

“Huh?” You respond ineloquently.

“You’ve been staring at the back of my head for the last five minutes, angel. I figured you had something worth saying.”

“Oh, no. I was just thinking about you.”

Immediately you wish a meteor would collide with the ship, providing you with the necessary distraction to escape and find somewhere you can hide until the end of time.

“...What about me were you thinking?” Din wonders after a solid thirty seconds of pure silence, voice somehow conveying an equally blended mixture of intrigue and wariness. He flips on the ship’s autopilot and turns in his seat to pin you with his gaze, apparently unwilling to let you try and weasel yourself out of the conversation.

You roll the question around in your mind, wanting to give an answer that satisfies him without it also embarrassing yourself further.

“I was thinking how much of an enigma you are,” you murmur at last, leaning back in the chair with your arms crossing over your stomach. “You wield such incredible powers and yet you choose to wear a human face, to call this man-made ship your home and to also spend your spare time living amongst those you will eventually reap. Why are these your choices?”

He tilts his head, and you just know there is a little crease of bewilderment appearing between his eyebrows right now even if you can’t see it. For as much as he is a puzzle you can’t put together, he is also at times an open book that you will never tire of reading.

“I would think you, more than most beings, would understand the discomfort that stems from loneliness and the lengths one will go to ease it,” he says, not unkindly. He mirrors your position, maneuvering himself until he’s comfortable in his seat and totally oblivious to the dilating of your pupils as you observe every subtle shift of his armor-clad body. “Isn’t that the true purpose of Cupids? To spare individuals the ache of living a life of solitude by introducing them to someone to love so they no longer feel it.”

“That’s a poetic way of putting it,” you answer, smiling softly and shrugging your shoulders. “My superiors would just quote our mantra back at me when I used to ask. Amor vincit omnia.”

“Love conquers all.”

You shouldn’t be surprised he’s able to translate such an ancient and obscure language, but your eyes widen regardless. “That’s right.”

His voice is unusually soft when he asks, “Do you like being a Cupid?”

You stare at him, caught off guard by how easily he’s changed the topic of the conversation from himself to you. You’re used to taking orders and being thanked for your services, but no one has ever asked you if you liked doing any of it.

“I’m good at it,” you finally say, even though it’s not really an answer.

He nods his head still, as if he understands. A part of you thinks he actually does.

You lick your lips, eyeing him hesitantly. “Do you...like being Death?”

“I’m good at it,” he echoes, but your words sound somber coming from his lips.

The cockpit fills with hushed silence again, but there’s a unique tenderness unlike ever before. Minutes seem to stretch on for entire seasons as you watch one another, content to simply coexist and revel in each other’s presences.

It would be so easy to slip off his helmet and kiss him right now.

You stiffen, stunned at your own thought, but you aren’t given the chance to analyze it further as an alarm on the ship’s control panel announces with a resounding beep you’ve reached your destination.

Din spins in his seat, reclaiming control of the steering to begin the ship’s landing process. You look out the front window at the large green-blue planet drawing nearer with every anxious tick of your heartbeat.

“We’re here,” you say needlessly, forcing excitement into your voice. Fake it till you make it, isn’t that the human expression?

“Who is it we’re meeting on this backwater skug hole?” Din asks, pressing a series of buttons above his head.

You kick the back of his seat. “Be nice,” you scold when he shoots you a look. He mutters something unintelligible under his breath as he turns back around, prompting you to roll your eyes. “She’s a goddess of springtime and motherhood. The locals call her Omera.”

Tag List: @leilei-draws​, @theocatkov​, @becauseican2, @vintagesaph​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @eleine-t1d​, @nicotinebirds, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee​

[ellenripleysbelieveitornot]

Before he was known as a Principality, before he became the Guardian of the Eastern gate, back when the force of creation still thrummed through the angels’ veins, Aziraphale had the very humble task of painting the sky. He worked tirelessly, day and night (both of which he had been responsible for making) filling his canvas with every shade of blue imaginable, from dark to light. And while he worked, he watched the Starmakers begin their task.

Well, to be precise, he watched one Starmaker.

He was haunted by hair burning bright as flame and eyes of the purest gold. It captivated him to the point that before he even realized what he was doing, he had splashed blazing yellow and vibrant orange all over his work. When Gabriel asked about it, he pretended it was intentional and called it the sunrise.

Aziraphale had finished the night sky long ago, and so was no longer allowed to cross the threshold to visit the starmaker, but he could watch him as he breathed light into stars and spun galaxies to life. If he imagined hard enough, he could sometimes catch him staring back.

Compared to the other starmakers, he was more chaotic in his approach, with nebulae smeared across his robe and stardust forever staining his fingers. Aziraphale had once watched him clumsily drag the tip of his wing through a bath of starlight, leaving a dripping trail of stars behind him before he noticed his mistake and cleaned himself up, his face nearly as red as his hair. (Much, much later, upon hearing a human call that same beautiful mess the milky way, Aziraphale would smile to himself and recall that blush.)

Once, during one of the rarer times when Aziraphale was completely focused on his own work (he had slowed his pace considerably since the starmakers took up their duties, though it hardly mattered; time didn’t even exist yet,) he was startled by a loud crash. He looked over to find the starmaker fallen atop a ladder which had collapsed. Aziraphale’s brief worry was quelled as the other starmakers helped him to his feat, laughing and teasing him for staring at someone and getting distracted. Their eyes met and Aziraphale hurriedly looked away, his face hot as the sun.

Despite this starmaker’s apparent carelessness, however, he cradled the stars stars in his hands as though each one was precious before gently placing them in their new homes. In fact, his hands were cupped in the same protective way when Aziraphale, blending the shades of twilight, turned around to find the redhead right behind him. Aziraphale dropped his paintbrush in his surprise and the starmaker took a startled step back.

“S-Sorry!” the starmaker stammered.

Aziraphale put a hand on his chest to calm himself. “It’s quite alright, dear. No need to worry.” He waited for the starmaker to speak, but was only met with silence as the redhead chewed on his lower lip and stared at Aziraphale with wide eyes. “Er... Can I help you?”

The starmaker’s eyes fell to his feet, which Aziraphale then noticed were covered in stardust, and he could see the path he had taken to get over here by the mess that had been left behind. “You’re almost done.”

Aziraphale turned back to look at the sky sadly. “Yes, I suppose I am.” The twilight was the very last bit, where the day bled into the night.

“I know it’s kinda still the day time, a-and you can’t see the stars in the day, but it’s sort also kinda like night time, so I just thought... maybe...” The starmaker thrust his hands toward Aziraphale, opening them to reveal a star so bright Aziraphale had to shield his eyes. “I- I- I messed it up,” the starmaker continued, looking mildly panicked. “The others say it’s too bright to go with the rest, but I thought maybe it might be bright enough to see in the day, so-” He caught himself rambling and clamped his lips shut.

Aziraphale smiled gently and carefully scooped the star out of the redhead’s hands. He might get in trouble if anybody noticed, but he just couldn’t say no. “I think it’s a brilliant idea.” The starmaker mumbled something in response that Aziraphale didn’t quite make out. “Pardon?”

“Sirius,” The starmaker repeated. “Its name is Sirius.”

“Oh?” Angels weren’t supposed to name the things they made, but Aziraphale couldn’t find it in himself to give the starmaker a reprimand. “How lovely!” He blew gently across his palms and Sirius floated playfully across the canvas before it settled into place as the brightest star in the sky, brilliant enough to even be seen at twilight.

“Thanks!” The starmaker smiled happily at Aziraphale before scurrying away, and Aziraphale found himself smiling as well as he finished up his work. When he was done, he added one final touch, dipping his brush in the footprints the redhead had left behind to add the light of Jupiter and Venus to the twilight to keep Sirius company.

Everything happened quickly after that, with the war, and the trials, and The Fall, until Aziraphale found himself atop the wall surrounding Eden, fretting over a flaming sword. Despite the circumstances, and despite the transformation of those golden eyes, Aziraphale was more than just a little glad to see the familiar face of a starmaker.

[stardancerluv]

Being a Good Friend

Epilogue Part One

Summary: Shadows of the past creep in.

Warning: none

Alex stopped walking beside you on the sandy beach. You stopped and eyed him. His worry was evident on his face.

“Alex, talk to me.” You tucked some hair behind your ear. “You can’t keep everything bottled up.”

You watched as he pressed his lips together. He looked past you before he looked back at you. His blue eyes reminded you on how sometimes, ocean could get turbulent here. He reached out and placed his hands on your tummy. Sighing, you put your hands over his. “I am fucking scared.” He finally said in a rush. “What if they find us here?” He added.

“They won’t.” You reached up and caressed his cheek, ignoring how he flinched.

“I’d be beside myself if anything were to happen to you and our little one.” He leaned into your cheek, he made a strangled sigh as he looked downward.

“They won’t Alex, it will be ok.”

******

That had been the last either of you had spoken of Juliet for quite a bit of time.

Waking with a start, Alex was breathless. He could’t remember what had made him so scared in his dream but he certainly was awake now. He did not see falling back to sleep happening anytime soon so he gently eased out of bed, careful to not wake you. It was almost five in the morning.

Pulling on his flannel robe, he went to check on little his Alexandria, his little Lexi. The moon and the dawn that was approaching flooded her room silvery, blue light. He heard her baby coos and gurgles before he even saw her.

“You couldn’t sleep either, huh love?”

There you were standing and holding on as tight as you could to the railing. She wiggled as he drew close. “Hello, my little princess. You’re happy to see daddy aren’t you ?”Reaching down, he gently picked her up and she almost immediately nestled close to his chest.

His heart swelled as he held her. He walked out onto the balcony to look at the he dark ocean lapping at the beach. Rubbing her back he looked out, she let out a burp that made Alex laugh so hard. “You may be my princess but you are a lot like daddy.” Cupping her head gently he gave it a soft kiss.

He gasped when over her head, he saw someone looking up at them. He immediately shrank back into the apartment. Fear gripped his heart. He looked around, putting his little princess down. Hunching over he walked over to the balcony. He peaked over the edge, whoever had been there was gone. It did not stop his heart from racing. Scooping up his princess he held her. What was he going to do, he just didn’t know.

*******

You put a bowl in front him the next morning. “Alex, are you ok?” You stood beside him as he ate his cereal. Absently, you played with his hair, it was getting longish. You were going to enjoy it while you could.

He nodded.

“Are you sure? You look like you didn’t sleep a wink.”

He finally looked at you and grimaced. “I checked on our little princess and when I did, we went out to the balcony. Someone was looking up at ours.”

“Are you sure?”

“At five in the morning, I’m sure.” He looked even worse then he did moments ago. “When I went go and look they were gone.”

“Good, maybe it was just someone walking by who happened to look up.” He sat back and pulled you onto his lap. “I really hope so.”

It couldn’t possible be Rose or Juliet, you mused as you hugged him. Your stomach, as you felt ill at the thought.

Lexi cooed and gurgled, lifting your head you smiled at your precious little girl. Who so many ways was just like her daddy from her wild auburn hair, bright blue eyes and some of her expressions she’d make when she spoke to either of you in her baby babble.

“Ok, we’ll stop ignoring you princess. Do you like your strained apples?”

“Daddy found you those apples.”

Right at that moment, she took a spoon and flicked it and it landed right on daddy’s face. You giggled into Alex’s shoulder who just looked stunned.

“She told you.” You giggled further into his shoulder.

******

After Alex had gone to work at the paper, you went to go and check the mail. Alex’s mum had said she she had sent a package for the baby. So you have been watching the mail like a hawk.

“Sra Law, Sra Law.” Turning, you smiled. You were still not over the giddy feeling you felt when someone would call you Mrs. Law.

“Sim.” You knew very few words but the ones you knew, you used. Sim = Yes in Portuguese

“There was a break in last night.”

Remembering, what Alex had said made fear knot in your stomach. You shifted Lexi to your other hip. “Do we know who did it? Is there any leads?”

The man shook his head. “Nao. They didn’t take anything but we’re telling the residents to make sure they lock their doors and we’ll be keeping an extra security guard on tonight.” (Nao = No in Portuguese)

“Obrigada. We’ll stay safe. I’ll tell Alex, I mean Senhora Law.” (Mrs. Law in Portuguese)

“Very good.” The sweet man who had been on the first to welcome you the complex, gently patted the back of Lex’s head. “She is such a sweet baby.”

“She is. Though she did throw some apples earlier.”

The man gave a belly laugh. “She has a a strong will like her mommy and daddy.”

You smiled, she certainly did with all she survived but you simply nodded. “She really is.” You agreed.

******

You put Lexi down for a nap once you got back to the flat. She went down easily. Once she was breathing evenly, you called Alex.

“Hi love.” He purred into the phone.

“Alex, can you come home?”

“I can try it is a heavy news day, with all the prep for carnival coming.”

“Please try to get home, tell them I am being a silly mommy. I need you home.”

“Are you ok?”

“I will be once you get here.”

“Ok, I will be there soon.”

****

He had not heard you this upset since well before. He swallowed hard and quickly typed up the last few lines he needed for his article. He the. Sent it to the editor. Taking out his wallet he managed to find in one of the pockets, he found Detective McCall’s card. He called him.

“Why Mister Law, I was just thinking about you.”

Alex rolled his eyes, the man could be dramatic.

“I hope those were good thoughts.”

The man chuckled at the other end of the line. “You know in my field there is rarely good news. Well, we are still attempting to track down Juliet Miller. We believe her and her lover boarded a boat headed to South America.”

“Oh, that is brilliant.”

“Hey stay positive there are only three known ships that take passengers so we are watching those. We will pick her up in no time.”

He sighed. “Great.” He grimaced. “ I suppose that is a good thing.” Alex was feeling confined, he desperately wanted to hang up.

“It is. Now, tell me how are you and the wee girl ? Is she keeping you up all night.”

“Not yet, but she did throw her breakfast at me this morning.”

The man chuckled, “They’ll do that.”

“Well, I better finish this article, there is always a story that needs to be covered.”

“Right, well talk to you soon Mr. Law.”

******

Thankfully, his boss was understanding and knew exactly what he was going through. Also gave him tickets to go and see it with you and the little princess. That way not only could he enjoy it but he could also cover it.

He managed to get one cigarette in before getting to the flat. He had really cut back, but with his news of Juliet loose made his old habit come back and hard.

When he came into the living room, he found you with your legs drawn up and your arms around them. You startled when he came to sit beside you. “Baby, what’s the matter? What happened?”

You threw your arms around him. He almost fell backwards but he held firm and held you tight. He resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Someone broke into the apartment complex last night. Maybe that is who you saw last night.” You pulled back and looked at him. Oh, he hated seeing you so upset. That is why you two came here to get away from all of that.

“Are they doing anything about it?” He felt like someone punched him. So someone had certainly been there last night.

“There will be an extra guard.”

“That’s good.”

*****

Sometime later when you started a late lunch for the two you, he shed his work clothes and slipped into some sweats and and sweat shirt. He went and checked on his precious Lexi.

“Ola, Ola?” (Hello in Portuguese)

He heard you say but nothing further.

“Shall we go and check on Mum?” Scooping Lexi up, he held her and walked into the kitchen.

“Who was that?”

You were stirring a the begging stages of what looked like a delicious stew or soup couldn’t tell just what yet.

“I don’t know it’s the second one today.”

Putting Lexi down in her high chair, he got her some yogurt. “Now, let’s not throw this at Daddy alright?” He traced her sweet soft cheek. She certainly only his heart and she was still such a wee thing.

He went over to you, and wrapped his arms around your middle. We’ll be ok. He whispered and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “We’ll be ok., I promise” He assured you.

Walking with you away from the stove, “Alex, I’m cooking.” He chuckled. “You know me, I love being a sweet distraction.” You giggled at that, and that you let him gently turn you around. “I do have some good news.”

You smiled gently. “Yes?”

“My boss wants me to cover carnival in two days and he gave me tickets so that you, Lexi and I could go.”

Your eyes lit up then. “Oh, that is wonderful.”

“It will be and it will give us a chance to get away a little bit. Clear our heads.”

“I’d like that.”

@mac-n-cheesie @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @rentskenobi @brookisbi @johallzy @darling-i-read-it @professionalclown @chogisss @calcifvr @i-love-scott-mccall @stardust-and-starlight @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @unfilteredmoonchild @sithonis @xbrex @hollow-r-us

[villainscomplex]

First Love / Late Spring

now who let me get away with falling three days behind on asanoya week yike

anyway @asanoyaweek21 day 2, mythology, made my own myth abt the seasons, pretend i'm not sleep deprived and this is the most eloquent a/n you've ever read ty 

(no but fr this tested how well I REALLY knew how the hell seasons worked)

Also on:

AO3

Wattpad

FFNet

Quotev

----------------------------------------------------------- In the beginning, the story goes, there is nothingness. The world is empty and lifeless, composed only of dirt and rock and fire and ice. There’s no history in this world because there’s no one there to record it, and maybe there never was. At first, there’s only the world and the silence. 

The universe takes some sort of interest in this world. It’s inhabitable, suitable to become something greater than what it was made to be. It sends a being made of a thousand suns and starlight, and when that being touches down, grass sprouts beneath his feet. He is made of warmth and brilliance, of all the light the universe thought to offer him. When he walks, life blooms around him, taking the form of arching trees and brilliant flowers.

He is called Summer, and he is the beginning of everything. 

In the beginning, it’s only Summer, a being barely held together at the seams with no vessel to contain him. He’s merely a concept, a breath of air racing across the earth and leaving beauty in its wake. But even a being as infinitely existing as Summer was not all-powerful, and his warmth couldn’t reach all recesses of the world. 

On the other side of the world, a being was born from the earth. He is made of ice and all of the cold the dirt has to offer, composed of darkness and a promise. Winter is born from the ground, and where he walks, the world dies. Their worlds collide, and on the border of that balance, two more beings come to be. 

One appears in a spark of brilliant, golden light, wreathed in warmth gentler than Summer’s. His laughter brings new beginnings, and with him come young animals, deer, foxes, and birds sprouting from the enormity of his being. He is Spring, and his arrival sparks a new cycle of life in the world. 

The other being is slower, more hesitant. He doesn’t appear as quickly as the others, as if he’s already prepared to leave the world he’s only just come into. He unfolds himself slowly, not warm like Summer or Spring, but not quite cold like Winter. He brings hesitance with him, curiosity, and melancholy. His arrival is the beginning of endings, and they call him Autumn. 

The four of them create a cycle; Summer flows into Autumn into Winter into Spring. Summer never meets Winter and Autumn never meets Spring, for the fear of any disastrous consequences for the meeting of the opposite. From this cycle comes balance, and from balance comes life. 

Humanity is a gift from the universe. Summer looks upon them like his young siblings, though they know little of him, they relish in his warmth. He gives them laughter and fun, heat and nourishment. He finds enjoyment in watching them, even as they grow and change. 

But all things came to an end, and like their cycles, humans grew and changed and eventually died. Sometimes, Summer is there to witness it. He watches them go beneath the sun, and he is silent when their loved ones mourn. Sometimes, he’s sleeping, in the wake of Autumn taking what half had been his for the quarter of the year. 

It’s Spring who comes up with the idea to take their form. 

When Summer awakens to take Spring’s place, Spring swirls around him. 

“We could take the form of humans and take their names! That way, we can walk among them and teach them to care for themselves and our world. I know they aren’t endless like us, but I’ve heard them tell stories. They’ll pass everything on and we can admire them up close!”

Summer thinks it’s brilliant. Spring is naive, but he was the one to create the animals and humans had taken to them. He watches before his eyes as Spring shrinks and condenses, his unperceivable form wavering and adjusting until it settles into a short, humanoid shape. When the light sinks away, Spring stands before him as a boy with wild orange hair, eyes as warm and brown as the freshly melted earth. He holds his arms out wide, and light flows from his very being, coating him in luminance. 

“I haven’t decided on a name,” Spring tells him, “but when I do, I’ll tell you! I’ll talk to Winter, too, but you’ll have to handle Autumn. I’ve heard he’s elusive, isn’t he?”

Spring knows little about Autumn, just as Summer knows little about Winter. They never meet, and the cycles will never allow them to, but Spring seems content either way. He’s curious about Autumn, so he’s heard from Summer and Winter, but even they know little about the elusive season of endings. 

Summer nods. “I haven’t met him properly,” he admits. “He always creeps in when I’ve already gone to rest.”

“Weird,” Spring huffs, more expressive now with his human features. “Well, I’ll tell Winter then when I go to take his place next cycle. See you next time!”

Spring bounds away with flowers in his wake, leaving Summer to wonder about Autumn as his warmth fills the world. 

It doesn’t matter now. Winter is taking Autumn’s place, and Summer won’t see anything of him until it’s his turn on this side of the world. Perhaps he’ll have the chance to run into Autumn for once, but he gets the feeling Autumn doesn’t want to be found. Summer doesn’t understand why, but the fourth season is quiet and withdrawn, seldom interacting with them more than he needs to.

Summer stops thinking about Autumn when he begins to cross his half of the world, bringing the earth into full bloom. As he runs, he begins to shape and change, a broad grin coming to his features as he takes on a human form. Summer takes the stardust and light he’s made of and compresses it into an impossibly small form, shorter even than Spring’s new form, and his amber eyes streak with golden light. 

Summer takes the form of a dark-haired boy, electric gold streaked through the front of his bangs. He’s small and unassuming for someone as infinite as him, radiating warmth and energy and life. Everything within him buzzes to go, and so he does, spending his time among the people, bringing them joy and life.

Though he looks like one of them now, there’s still something otherworldly about him, and some people call him a god. They’re not sure of what, but they know he brings only good for them, and the sunlight itself is drawn to every fiber of his being. It dapples his hair and flares off of his skin like a golden glow. 

Summer knows nothing of names, and so when they ask, he only smiles. 

Though regretful, his time on this side comes to an end. He feels the slow chill creep in as Autumn awakes, though he doesn’t know from where. His warmth wants to combat it, and Summer is eager to try, but for now, he withdraws it into himself. He can’t linger long, but perhaps a little extra time wouldn’t hurt. He’s painfully curious, and Summer is nothing if not stubborn. 

Autumn is quiet when he comes. Summer watches the leaves brown and wither with his arrival, and the life around them grows lethargic and somber. This is the beginning of endings for some. He hasn’t seen Autumn all the way through, but he’s heard enough from the humans to understand what happens. 

Autumn startles when he realizes Summer hasn’t departed yet. He withdraws immediately, fleeing into the trees. The leaves begin to turn colorful shades of browns and reds and golds, and Summer almost wants to stop to admire them, but he’s hot on Autumn’s heels. 

The other entity swirls into the trees, and Summer forgoes his human form to catch up. 

“Wait!” He gasps out, crash landing in a clearing and rolling onto the forest floor, condensed back into his human shape. 

Autumn hesitates, just behind the treeline. He doesn’t emerge, but Summer knows he’s there.

“You always run from us,” Summer frowns. “But I don’t know why. Do you not want to know us?”

“It’s for the best,” Autumn speaks up, voice soft. 

“Huh?” Summer frowns. “That’s stupid. Shouldn’t we talk sometimes if you’re always taking my place?” 

Autumn withdraws a bit. “...Why do you look like a human?” He finally asks.

Summer grins. “Spring thought of it. He thinks we’ll be able to help better this way. It’s hard to maintain this form, but I like it. I haven’t thought of a human name yet. What do you think?”

Autumn creeps along the trees. Summer watches the one he touches lose its leaves. He seems reluctant.

“I’m okay this way,” he finally says. “They wouldn’t like me. Everything starts to die when I come around and I see the way it makes them unhappy. I’m different from you.” 

“That’s stupid,” Summer frowns, moving forward.

Autumn starts. Before Summer can think to follow, he’s vanished into the distance. Summer frowns after the other season, but it’s time for him to move on. Autumn is strange to him, fickle and hesitant. Summer doesn’t understand him, but perhaps he isn’t meant to. 

Either way, it’s time for him to move on. For now, he’ll rest. Soon, he’ll go to take Spring’s place in their never-ending cycle. He glances back in the wake of Autumn, and then turns his gaze forward and moves on. 

The next time he sees Spring, his appearance has changed a bit. He’s still the small, orange-haired boy, but now freckles blossom across his face and he’s filled his form. He beams when he sees Summer. 

“I talked to Winter,” he tells him, “and he said he’d think about it. I’ll convince him next time I see him, for sure!” 

“Better than me,” Summer sighs, “I got two words in towards Autumn before he ran away. It’s so strange.”

Spring reaches out, patting him on the back. It’s a strange feeling. They’re capable of touch in their natural forms, but it’s so abstract that Summer has never given much thought to it. It’s different in these forms, more physical and grounding. He doesn’t hate it. 

“I thought of a name,” Spring tells him. “Or, well. Winter thought of it, but I like it!”

“Yeah?” Summer tips his head. “What is it?”

“Shoyo!” Spring announces, throwing his arms up. “It fits, I think!”

“Shoyo,” Summer echoes. 

He’s right; it does fit. It sounds right for Spring, fitting in a way that only self-picked titles are. Summer voices his agreement, and Spring - Shoyo - bids him farewell, speeding off into the distance. Now it’s Summer’s turn on this side of the world, the issue of a name weighing heavily on his mind. He doesn’t see Autumn again this cycle. 

The other season comes late to avoid him, and by then, Summer is long gone. 

(On the other side of the world, Winter takes the form of a tall boy with hair like night and eyes as blue as ice. Spring takes Winter’s red-tipped fingers into his hands and fills them with warmth before the taller one goes. 

Shoyo tells Summer about Winter’s new form before he too, goes.)

Summer waits, this time. Autumn is startled to find him there, visibly freezing when he spots him as if he’s let down his guard and expected Summer to be gone. It’s sunset when Autumn arrives, the end of one day into another. There’s something final about it, though Summer knows the sun will always rise on a new day. There’s a half-formed thought in the back of his mind, but he turns his attention to Autumn, instead. 

Sure enough, Autumn hasn’t taken a human form. Summer is sure it will take more convincing, but he’s determined to bring Autumn into their circle more than he’s been thus far. They’ve been here for cycles and cycles already, but Summer is astounded by how little they know about their last member. 

“Why do you keep waiting for me?” Autumn asks, hanging back away from where Summer sits in the grass, watching the sun sink. 

“You know,” Summer starts, “in the beginning, it was just me. The universe put me here because it thought something could be made of it. Winter came because I can’t cover the whole world. You two came for balance. This world isn’t like us; it needs the balance of all of us to survive and thrive.”

Autumn hesitates. Slowly, he joins Summer in the grass, settling beside him like a blanket. 

Summer grins over at him. “Do you watch the sunset a lot? It’s sort of like an ending too. The end of a day, a month, a cycle… Humans come up with some interesting things. Even though it signifies an end, it’s not permanent. That’d be like saying nighttime is bad, but some things flourish then, too.”

“Are you trying to change my mind by comparing me to the day cycle?” Autumn asks.

Summer laughs, loud and free. “Maybe. Is it working?”

Autumn stays quiet for a long moment, watching the sun sink. It isn’t until darkness sweeps across the world that he rises. 

“Maybe,” he murmurs.

Summer watches him vanish over the crest of the hill. 

(The next time Summer sees Shoyo, he’s decided on a name. 

“Winter did too,” Shoyo laughs. “He’s Tobio. What’s yours?”

“Sorry, Shoyo,” Summer grins, “I’ve got someone else I have to tell first.”)

Summer doesn’t see Autumn again for an entire cycle. The first time, Summer decides to give him space, but by the time he needs to leave the other side, it’s a little more upsetting. He goes through a human’s year without seeing Autumn, and then another. The name waits in his chest. 

Autumn comes early the next year. It’s the middle of the night, and a moment later, Summer might not have recognized him. He changes as he descends, all the hesitance and endings pressing itself into the shape of a tall man. When he unfolds, his brown hair falls past his shoulders in gentle waves and his dark eyes are careful, scanning the world around him like he’s seeing it for the first time. 

Summer shrieks so loudly that he sees Autumn’s new form physically flinch in reaction. He pays it little mind, sprinting the short distance and flinging himself at the taller man so aggressively that they both go down in a whirl of leaves and dispensed forms. Autumn reforms slowly beneath him, still not accustomed to piecing his human form together as quickly as Summer.

“Ow,” he gets out. 

“Where have you been?” Summer demands.

“Sorry,” Autumn frowns, “I’ve been… thinking. I lost track of time.” 

Summer frowns down at him, and then disperses his human form, condensing again into it a bit away. He watches Autumn stumble back to his feet, still hesitant and unsure in this more solid form. It’s a good look, Summer will admit. It fits Autumn. 

“Sorry,” Autumn says again. 

“You apologize too much,” Summer tells him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. “Just don’t do it again or I’ll wait even longer next time.”

Autumn smiles a hesitant little smile. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

He needs to go soon, but since Autumn is here early, he has a little bit of time. He gestures to the other season.

“Come on,” he says, “let’s watch the sunrise. I’ve got something to tell you.”

Autumn looks a little scared, but his curiosity visibly wins out. He follows Summer through the trees. Summer leads him on and on until they finally come to an overlook where the view of the dark sky is clear. The sun isn’t quite rising yet, but he can see the light getting ready to come up over the horizon. 

“I’m glad you decided to try,” Summer tells him, sitting down and stretching his legs out. “Human forms are strange and different from what we’re used to, but it’s a good difference. I like it. I think you will, too.”

Autumn slowly sits beside him. Summer watches him run his fingers through the grass, lips parted in surprise at the sensation. 

“Have you thought of a name?” Summer asks him, laughing. 

“No,” Autumn admits, shaking his head. “I don’t know where to start.” 

“I decided on mine,” Summer tells him. “Do you wanna know?”

Autumn’s expression gives him away before he can even reply. Summer laughs, leaning back on his palms as the sky streaks with reds and golds. 

“I decided on Yuu.” 

“Yuu,” Autumn echoes softly. 

Something about the way the other season says it cements it in Yuu’s chest. He doesn’t have a heart like humans, but if he did, he’s sure it would be racing. Autumn brings his knees up and leans against them, watching the golden light peek over the horizon. It’s warm when it washes across the horizon; after all, summer hasn’t quite passed yet. 

“I like it,” Autumn says.

“What about Asahi?” Yuu asks abruptly.

The birds flee from the nearby trees. Autumn visibly starts.

“Huh?” He asks. “I thought you were going with Yuu?”

“Not for me,” Yuu turns to him. “For you.”

“Asahi,” Autumn echoes, and then again, “Asahi.” 

He seems to genuinely ponder it for a moment. Yuu watches the expressions cross his face rapidly. The suggestion had been a spur of the moment, and he doesn’t remember where the name had come from, but something about it just fits Autumn. 

“Okay,” Autumn murmurs, finally, “Asahi it is.” 

The sun crests over the horizon and lights Yuu’s entire face in a brilliant glow. His smile shines even brighter. 

Yuu leaves later that day. Asahi sees him off, and he seems hesitant like there’s something he wants to say but he can’t bring himself to. Yuu doesn’t push it. He doesn’t know what they’re building, but it’s still tentative now, and they’ve got all the time to do it. Yuu isn’t patient or subtle, but he doesn’t want to chase Asahi away again. 

“See you next time,” he says.

He streaks away into the day, leaving light behind where his footsteps had been.

Time goes on, and people make up new tales. Sometimes, winter lasts longer than it should, and some say the groundhog saw its shadow. Others will say that spring came along, and winter stayed behind to spend a few extra days by his side. 

Sometimes, at the end of summer, the last few days are hotter than the rest. Someone might say it’s because the earth is growing hotter every year and humanity is pushing it. A mother might tell her child that it’s because the summer is happy to finally greet the fall. 

And maybe two men might overhear her on the sidewalk, hand in hand, a mysterious twinkle in their eyes and something strange and otherworldly about them. But if anyone knew the truth, they seemed none the wiser.

In the end, autumn comes, leaves fall, and life changes in a burst of color. 

[prophetwithaz]

Starlight (Obi-wan x reader)

a/n: the reader in the story is LEGAL. DO NOT clown in my inbox. i also haven't written fic since i was 13 so this is e h. i finally posted it after @milleniumvalcon hyped me up.

summary: Despite being worn out after work, Obi-wan senses your anxiety about your training, and comes to your quarters to make sure you're doing alright.

word count: 1.5k

————————————————————————

Obi-wan had had a long day. It seemed that at each turn, the day tore itself in two. The discussions among politicians made him sick. Despite the fact that he desired peace more than anything, he couldn't fathom any leader being able to willfully harm their own people. Tensions at the temple ran high. Too much to do, and too little time, as per usual.

All he wanted to do was to curl up in a ball and start a new day with some semblance of clarity. You felt the same, having spent the whole day training. You were drained, quite frankly, and you were tired of preparing for the trials every day. You wondered if in a few years you would even be good enough to face the council. Maybe being a jedi wasn't for you. Tossing and turning, you lie awake. Anxiety felt like television static: no particular feeling or thought, but all encompassing and overstimulating nonetheless.

Obi-wan could feel the disturbance in the force from the uneasiness. It made it difficult for him to relax, sensing the pain coming from just a few doors down, despite his heavy, aching eyes. So he did what he wished his colleagues would do more often and left his quarters to check on the padawan down the hall.

He had noticed how hard you pushed yourself. You held astounding skill with your saber, rivaling Anakin in many regards. Despite the strength of the force within you, you were never good enough for yourself, critiquing each mistake you make to the point of embarrassment. Obi-wan had noticed this, but never said anything out of fear of overstepping his boundaries as a master.

He opened the door to your quarters softly, trying not to startle you. He called out your name, pulling you out of your daze. "What are you still doing awake, young one?" he spoke.

"Why are you here?" you questioned. "You were working all day. I figured you'd be asleep as soon as you got to your quarters."

Obi-wan chuckled. "I sensed a disturbance in the force. It felt like you," he said, gently. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

You were shocked to say the least. You looked up to Obi-wan more than your own master. He was arguably the most talented of all of the jedi, Yoda be damned. That opinion was independently formed without any outside influence. Outside influence being the massive crush you had on him.

They were enigmatic, your feelings for him. Truly, it was the kind of thing philosophers tried to explain with frilly words and a certain softness, and in a way, they were right. You could never explain it in any way other than stardust glittering in your bones, burning your soul in the most pleasant way possible. You were so modest around him, knowing he was everything you weren't, and it led to the intense self-deprication you engaged in on the regular. You weren't patient or levelheaded. The lack of these qualities led to strong passion, leaving you on edge and in fear of turning to the dark side.

In the time you spent in your own thoughts, Obi-wan had seated himself beside you. "You always push yourself so hard," he started, "but I sensed great doubt in you, padawan." It felt as if he could peer into your soul when he looked you in the eye.

"I'm fine. You have more important things to do than be my therapist." It came out harsher than expected, but the message was all the same. He didn't need to treat you like a child.

"You aren't a bother," he said, moving closer. "I care about you more than you know-"

"I'm not even your padawan, so I don't see why you're so worried."

But the truth was, he thought about you all the time. How you put Anakin in his place in training. How you fight with a saber as if you were born with one in your hand. How you spin in the air when you fight, almost envying whoever the poor soul was that had to oppose you in combat. But over everything else, how you managed to be the most beautiful woman he had seen in his life, even with no makeup, hair pulled back tight, and sweating under the almost obnoxious weight of the jedi robes.

"You're the best of the padawans. You could kick Anakin's ass at any given chance. You give me hope for the next generation of jedi, and manage to smile while doing it all."

He spoke with a honey-like grace. The sweet words stuck to you like you had just dipped your hands in his soul. Obi-wan wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a warm embrace. He smelled like linen and home, wherever that was.

You pulled out of the hug. "That's the problem. Everyone thinks that except me. I still feel like that same scared little kid from Naboo I was way back when whenever I make a mistake. And the trials... Maker, I don't even know what I'll do about those."

"Darling," he started, "all in all, we're our own worst critics." He reached his hand out, "may I?" You nodded and he took your hand. "We look at our lives as if it has to live the greatest story ever told, when really, the only person who thinks that is ourself."

You gripped Obi-wan's hand tighter, tears welling in your eyes. Vulnerability wasn't anything you were used to, especially not in front of the masters. As far as you were concerned, you had to be perfect for them. His voice felt like the auditory equivalent of sunshine, and maybe, for a brief moment, it could balance out your storm.

"If you were supposed to just fight perfectly and follow orders, you might as well be a clone, sweetheart." He chuckled and put his arm around you. "Not to mention, you are much prettier than the clones."

You laughed and shook your head, "I wish you wouldn't lie to me like that, Master Kenobi."

"You are truly astounding, young one. I know you don't think that, and I know it'll be even harder for me to convince you of that, but I promise you are." You pressed yourself against his chest and let yourself cry. There was no reason not to by this point. He wasn't the type to gossip, and you couldn't remember the last time you had cried in front of anyone.

Obi-wan pulled you from his chest and looked you in the eye. You'd swear he was made of love, of starlight. "Don't cry, love," he spoke, gently brushing away the tears from beneath your eyes. Obi-wan kissed your forehead softly, brushing over the spot with his calloused finger tips. "You were made for this."

In a turn of events even you found shocking, you had locked your lips on his, your hands wrapping around his neck. Those calloused hands tangled themselves in your hair as his mouth swiftly took your breath away. You pulled apart, the air between you heavy and comforting. He gave you a giddy smile, stroking your hair while he gazed at you. In that moment, Obi-wan looked at you as if you had hung the moon, and for a brief moment, you yourself felt like you could have. The trials should be afraid of you, not the other way around. "You have no idea how long I have wanted to do that, really," he said.

You smiled and nodded, giving him a quick peck on the lips before leaning against him and falling back on to your bed. Obi-wan got comfortable, and you soon followed suit. It was late, and you were buzzing with happiness.

"I promise you, I meant what I said to you. Each and every word, starlight." His words pulled the biggest smile from your face as you snuggled closer to him, taking in all of Obi-wan Kenobi. His scent, his warmth, and the way his chest buzzed when he called you starlight.

You weren't sure how long it was or how many kisses it was until you had fallen asleep, but it was by far, the best night's sleep you had gotten in ages. The fact that you woke up with Obi-wan still next to you was the brilliant, loving icing on the cake. Technicalities could wait. You were beyond in love, and nothing could take that away from you. Not war, not fear, not the trials. You finally had someone worth holding on to.

So you did, you looked up to his peaceful expression, eyes still closed, and opted to go back to sleep, holding him like you were the only two people alive.

At that moment, you were.

[luckyjak]

essek week: day seven

For @essek-week day seven: AU. In this case, modern AU

TW: Homophobia, tw: implied transphobia, TW: Outing, Brotherly Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, religious conservative family trauma, Mighty Nein as Family, boys crying about feelings, Modern AU. 

most of the trigger warnings are implied not explicit but I feel the need to warn regardless

He’s late.

He shouldn’t have come at this point, but something keeps tugging at him, making him move forward despite the rain of the city and his general tardiness. Perhaps it’s the fact that he bought a gift that makes him keep moving, or maybe it’s the fact that he hasn’t seen Essek in three years, or any number of reasons, but his feet keep moving, and he doesn’t stop.

When he arrives at the location his GPS tells him is the venue, he hesitates even as his hand is on the door.

It’s not a church, Verin thinks, smiling in spite of himself. Mother would have kittens if she knew Essek was getting married not in a church.

She'd have a conniption over the fact that he's marrying a man, too, of course. Not that she was coming to the wedding. No one from Essek’s side of the family was likely to come to his wedding, except for Verin, and it was that thought that gave him the courage to open the door.

At first, he wonders if he’s wandered into the wrong location, if he perhaps misread the invitation he received. But a quick glance tells him that, no, this is the right location. The planetarium looks like a garden exploded in it: there are flowers everywhere, and none of them match. But the chaos actually sort of works, aesthetically, as all of the flowers seem to glow with the night sky overhead.

He’s like, the only drow here, but the place is packed with people dancing and drinking. He tries to see if he can spot his brother anywhere, but before he gets too far there is a blue tiefling in his face.

“Hi!” She says to him, very bubbly. She looks like a princess, wearing a bright pink sparkly dress and a tiara. Across her chest is a sash that says Maid of Honor. “Are you related to Essek?”

He blinks at her, slowly. “I am. Is he, ah, still here…?”

“He is,” she bounces on her tiptoes, still grinning. He realizes suddenly that she is wearing matching pink converse shoes as opposed to heels. Another thing Mother would have a fit over, he thinks.

“Can I, uh, see him, or…”

He feels a large, rough hand on his shoulder, and he turns and finds himself staring at a very tall, pink haired firbolg. “We just want to have a little conversation, first.”

“I’m sure you are a very nice guy!” The tiefling tells him, still bouncing slightly. “But Essek said a lot of his family are dicks, so we just wanna check.”

“Yeah,” comes a new voice, and he turns to find a dark skinned human woman in a blue suit. She is also wearing a sash, although her’s says Caleb’s Best Friend Fuck Gender.  “We just wanna make sure you aren’t here to start shit. Say something homophobic or something fucked up on his wedding day.”

A part of him feels warm on his brother’s behalf. The Essek he used to know never had friends who would stand up for him like this. He blinks slowly, and tries to find a kind smile within himself. “I’m not our mother,” he tells the three friends of Essek, and hopes it’s enough to convey his sincerity.

The firbolg slaps him on the back. “Good enough for me!” He points in the general direction of the center of the room. “He’s dancing with his husband.”

He wanders, for a little bit, but he still doesn’t see his brother. Instead, he decided to amuse himself by counting how many other people are wearing sashes like the tiefling and the woman in the suit. The firbolg is wearing one, too, he realizes, only his is on backwards; it says Made of Tea. There is a halfling in a yellow dress who has a sash that says Mama Bear. A half-orc wearing a ridiculous pirate hat whose sash says Best Captain. An incredibly buff woman with dark hair is dancing with a purple tiefling in a dress, and both of them are wearing sashes, too. The woman’s sash says Made of Honor (Also Guns) while the tiefling’s says Best Dead. The woman dips the tiefling as part of their dance, and the tiefling immediately cracks a joke in someone’s direction, which is how Verin finds his brother.

No wonder he couldn’t find Essek at first. He hardly looks like himself. Gone is the quiet boy who used to hide up in his room, or when forced out into public, hid behind several layers of thick robes. Instead he’s dancing in the center of the room, and the center of everyone’s attention, too. His brother wears a silk white halter top that sparkles in the starlight. Verin thinks it may be slightly translucent, too, but he’s too far to tell at this distance. His top is tucked into high waisted dark trousers with shiny gold buttons on them. Unlike many of the women here, his brother is wearing high heels, and more makeup than most of the women, too. He wears gold eyeliner and thick purple and blue eyeshadow, but it looks nice on him. Makes him look ethereal, which, Verin thinks, might have been the theme.

The man Essek is dancing with is half a head taller than his brother, and human, too, from the looks of him. He looks like a wizard, Verin thinks, which is sort of a ridiculous outfit to wear to a wedding, but it kind of works for him. He wears a long, light blue cape, robe thing? But the top half of it is sparkly, woven with silver thread to look like stardust. The man’s hair is very long and a vivid red, going down past his shoulders, but it’s been braided in an elaborate French braid, with bright flowers woven into his hair.

He’s also wearing makeup, Verin notices and grins. A light blue eyeshadow.

The song they are dancing to ends, and the newly wedded couple kiss, and Verin turns away immediately so he’s not looking at them, like they’ve done something embarrassing. Shame sinks into the bottom of his stomach as he does so, and he feels himself flush with anger and embarrassment. This is Essek’s wedding, he tells himself. There’s nothing wrong with him kissing his husband.

Why is it so hard to unlearn every toxic thing Mother ever taught me?  Verin thinks, ashamed of himself. His hands grip the present he brought tightly, and he turns to try to find the gift table, to put what he brought there and then go home, and of course, that’s when Essek spots him.

“Verin?” his brother calls to him, so he stops and turns to face him. His brother looks so shocked right now, it’s hard to read any other expression on his face; Verin can’t tell if he’s happy to see him, or angry, or both. “You came?”

“You invited me,” Verin says sheepishly, although he knows that’s not a good excuse. They’ve not seen each other in three years. Part of that is on Essek; he left the family in a storm of anger and hurt, but part of it is on Verin, too. He didn’t reach out to him, even after Verin left the family, too.

“I invited the whole Den,” Essek says, gesturing around the room as if to point out the distinct lack of drow here. Most people are still dancing, but a few have stopped to watch his and Essek’s conversation; most of the people with sashes, he notices. “But they didn’t seem to make it.”

There’s so much Verin wants to say, then. He wants to say I’m sorry, he wants to say I was bigger and stronger. I should have protected you from them. He wants to say I’m trying to be a better person now and I should have contacted you sooner and it’s so hard, unlearning everything they taught us, how did you do it? And did you know Father died, the night you left?

But he doesn’t, can’t seem to find a way to make any of those words come out of his throat. The room is too crowded and too hot, so instead, he deflects. “Perhaps their invitations got lost in the mail?”

His comment causes Essek to grin. “All seven hundred and eleven of them, huh?”

“Seven hundred and thirteen,” Verin corrects with a gentle smile, his nerves vanishing with the familiar banter he’s missed from his brother. “Cousin Gwylyss’s wife had twins two years ago.”

“Those poor kids,” Essek muses. “I hope they don’t take after their father.”

“Oh, they absolutely do,” or at least, they did, before Verin left, too.

Essek practically doubles over with laughter, and when he stops laughing he smiles sharply at Verin, fangs poking out of his lips. “Did you know, Great Aunt Beszrima sent me a wedding gift? It’s just money, but it was still a surprise.”

Now it’s Verin’s turn to practically double over. “Did she really?”

“Oh yes. My theory is that the old bat saw the name Thelyss on a wedding invitation and sent money without looking any closer at it.”

Both brothers are laughing now, a shared joke no one else gets, and it’s so nice, he’s missed this so much. This connection, the shared past and the shared trauma. For a moment, they are just two brothers laughing at their extended family, and they can pretend that three years ago, Verin didn’t accidentally out his older brother to their religious, conservative family. That the fight that broke out between Essek and their father hadn’t turned violent. That, when the storm finally broke, both Essek and their father left, and the next time Verin saw their father he was in a casket, and he thought for years the next time he’d see Essek, he’d be in one, too.

His thoughts sober him up quickly.

“I’m sorry,” he says to Essek.

It’s not enough, it won’t ever be enough, but he doesn’t know what else to say. How can you apologize for not knowing any better? He was young and stupid and impulsive, but that’s not an excuse. How do you apologize for ruining someone’s life without realizing it?

But he doesn’t get the chance to say anything further, because Essek is doing something he’s not done in years, and hugging him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

He sobs before he can stop himself, and Essek is crying, too, he thinks, because he can feel the wetness on his jacket. He wraps his arms around Essek's back and hugs him tightly, sobbing because he feels too much.

“Enough of that,” Essek says shakily, pulling away. His makeup is smudged and runny, and he is trying, desperately, to stop crying. “It’s my wedding day. I’m not going to cry any more.”

Verin makes no such promises, and wipes his eyes on his jacket sleeve.

There’s a gentle hand on Essek’s shoulder, and the man he was dancing with earlier--his husband, Verin thinks--hands Essek a handkerchief without saying anything, although Verin can tell he’s been watching their exchange like a hawk. “Oh fuck,” Essek says, laughing as he blows his nose into the handkerchief. “Verin, would you like to meet my husband?”

“Of course. That's why I came,” Verin says, holding his hand out, wishing he looked less like a mess. “Verin Thelyss. Essek is my big brother.”

“Caleb Widogast,” the husband says, shaking his hand. The Zemnian accent is a surprise, but then again, Verin doesn’t know what he expected Essek’s husband to sound like. “Essek is my husband.”

Verin holds his head down, shame filling him again slightly. “I’m sorry I missed the ceremony.”

“It’s okay,” Caleb Widogast tells him with a soft smile. “Better late than never. We are glad you are here.”

“We are,” Essek assures him. He grabs Verin’s hand, and squeezes it gently. “I am so glad to see you again.”

Verin cries again, and squeezes Essek’s hand back. “There’s so much I’d like to say,” he says, his voice cracking as he speaks. “But I don’t want to ruin your wedding.”

“You wouldn’t,” Essek assures him, and squeezes his hand back. “You haven’t.”

“I think,” Essek’s husband looks around, and Verin notices suddenly that they are in a closed circle of people--all the people he noticed wearing sashes, the people who must make up the wedding party. They are circling them to give them privacy, he realizes suddenly, and he feels overwhelmed with gratitude towards these strangers who must love his brother so very much. “That perhaps, if you two wished to talk more privately, we could provide a distraction.”

Caleb’s Best Friend Fuck Gender  whistles. “We are very good at distractions.”

Best Dead smiles sharply with his fangs pointing. “Something of our specialty, you might say.”

Mama Bear wiggles her fingers. “Chaos crew.”

“Go on then,” Essek’s-- Caleb, Verin corrects himself, tells them, squeezing Essek’s shoulder. “We’ll find you later.”

Then a firecracker goes off (where did that even come from?) and people are shouting and running about, and Essek drags his brother off to talk, privately, for the first time in three years, and it feels, a little bit, like forgiveness.

[f-117-nighthawk]

I’m in a Playlist Mood

I was scrolling through my dark matter tag looking for something I made a while ago to reference in the next chapter of Carry Me Home and ran across my last playlist explanation post. It put me in the mood to think about this again, and I’ve added...a lot. The playlist might’ve actually doubled in length since then (Thank You Abyss) and I’ve moved some stuff around in order. So, more playlist meta under the cut (it’s LONG)

So first thing: I’ve actually created two new playlists (well, one new one and actually made the third playlist have more than two tracks) since that post jhadsfljd. Working forwards in time (kinda), we have:

Dark Matter: The Road to Ruin

The Road to Ruin is the Main Playlist, the thing I use to write to, the thing I lie in bed and listen to to think up new things, and half the thing that keeps the timeline in place (it’s actually more updated than World Anvil rn whoops). Here we have overarching plot hooks, character development, and the story of six Paladins and their friends trying to save the universe.

Turn the Lights Out I sort of explained in the last post and I can’t think of too much more to add. The TLDR is it’s about the Lions (and, well, technically [REDACTED] too....) and sort of why I refer to a fully-melded Lion-Paladin duo as Spirits.

(I was here/Will you welcome and recognize me/I'll be there/I was here/Will you dread me, will you despise me/I'll be there/For the last living thing)

Remnants of Stars is again about Galran philosophy and the actual process of the quintessence nurseries filtering quintessence back into the universe. But the bit about giving in to know the truth becomes important much, MUCH later.

(As children of space/With stardust in our veins/We will give in to know the truth/We are the remnants of stars)

Your World Will Fail, Dark Matter, and Eater of Worlds are about [REDACTED], about what happens between that instant between the first plank time and the next. They’re an overarching theme, but also the event that everything else builds from, whether that be interpreted as the beginning of the universe or the Voltron comet crashing into Daibazaal.

(Your world will fail my love/It’s far beyond repair/Your world will fail my love/It is already there)

(Bring me your soul/Bring me your hate/In my name you will create/Bring me your fear/Bring me your pain/You will destroy in my name)

(Can’t imagine the violence/The rage and the love in my madness/I am the eater of worlds and I’m looking for someone to feed me)

Apocalypse 1992 is actually the main story of Through Apocalypse Skies, although its framing story is shortly after String Theory. It happens between parts of Awakenings, detailing the rise of [REDACTED] and the final hours before the destruction of everything sentient species knew beforehand.

(Fly high through apocalypse skies/Fight for the world we must save/Like tears of a unicorn lost in the rain/Chaos will triumph this day)

You Keep What You Kill��covers the slow degeneration of the Empire between The Fall and the Battle of Arus. The knowledge harshly taught by the Thuanial War is forgotten under the influence of Zarkon, Haggar, and [REDACTED]. Marzin and Galraasa quickly rise the ranks as the Empire’s left and right hands, like omens of destruction before them. The four are the ‘holy half-dead,’ the ones who shape the devouring of the universe before them.

(Defying dimensions/These ruthless creatures will steal your soul/Breaking away from the chains of mortality/They won't be taken down/Bow now to the holy half dead/The master to death mongers calls)

The Seven Sisters is about Keith, mostly, and connected to Closure via its influence on Child From the Stars (Lost in the Dark) and also to Memories of a Girl I Haven’t Met

(I cast my hope upon The Pleiades/The Seven Sisters who would come for me/They'd fall to Earth to grant a child's dream/But I'm still waiting)

Starlight is the newly added Adashi song. Here, it’s the sad part, based around the time that the SFSS Genesis launches for Kerberos. It also is sort of about Shiro’s thoughts throughout the war as he watches ‘from distant skies’ (and influences String Theory kinda)

(At night the earth will rise/And I'll think of you each time I watch from distant skies/Whenever stars go down and galaxies ignite/I'll think of you each time they wash me in their light/And I'll fall in love with you again)

Abyss is Awakenings again. It’s specifically the Red Lion waking up on Sendak’s ship to her new Paladin, but also sort of the rest of the Lions as they find new Paladins for the first time since The Fall

(Open my eyes in a daze/How long has it been? Am I so out of place?/Warmth I can no longer feel/My mountain is gone, I'm surrounded by steel/The strangest of structures arises ahead/Seems to be held up by nothing/Where have I gone, do I dream?/How can the stars be all I can see?)

Who Will Save You Now is about the Paladins in First Contact. It’s the video messages they send to their families, the warning that Something Is Out Here that they need to prepare for. It’s a declaration of protection for Earth, but a recognition that the Paladins may not be able to do what they say.

(I will not take from you and you will not owe/I will protect you from the fire below/It's not in my mind/It's here at my side/Go tell the world that I'm still alive)

The End of the Beginning and Nobody Gets Left Behind are the aftermath of the Battle of the Sarnan Nebula, the end of season two. The End of the Beginning hasn’t been posted yet, but it’s also the second of the four Closure fics. The End of the Beginning also has influence on String Theory. 

(Every night I die just a little/All this time, I'm caught in the middle/All your life, you fought with no winning/This is just the end of the beginning)

(Don't even try to pretend/That you're rough and just as tough/As when you're missing a friend/Attack and take him back/Cause when the team isn't whole/You've got a hole in your soul)

A Simple Plan is sort of part of The End of the Beginning, but really takes place after it. It’s the newly shuffled Team Voltron attempting to track down Lotor as Haggar tries to keep him under her control, and the new Black Paladin’s slow shift away from the things that he was pushed into and to the Blade. (And... guess what... it has influence on String Theory!) Fun fact I found out recently: The Spiritual Machines are by and large also the people behind Les Friction, which explains so much.

(What is this space we’re climbing/What is this place we’re stuck in/Why do we feel we’re sinking/How do we get out – get out of this) 

Memories of a Girl I Haven’t Met skips all the way over Naxzela and to the Mission to the Baaria Shipyards, the first major offensive that isn’t somehow connected to canon (even if only a very very small part of it is actually at the shipyards lol). This is also the song that solidified Keith’s very queer identity in Dark Matter.

(In this lonely place, bathed in silence and thoughts of you/I can't see your face but I'm trying to envision you/So are you really out there? Are you awake with memories/Of a boy you haven't met yet who's wished upon the Pleiades?)

TRIALS (reimagine) and String Theory are.... hoh boy. [REDACTED], [spoilers], and the turning point for a lot of things, which is why it has the honor of being the separating fic between my two main Dark Matter folders. TRIALS being on here is a fun story, because I associate that song very heavily with my main Star Wars fics, since that’s where the series title comes from, but the reimagine version of it gave me such strong Dark Matter vibes, it ended up here. It has heavy influence on the first part of String Theory, and is what I’ve been using for general pacing of the first half. String Theory itself isn’t the weirdest song on the playlist, but it’s really hard to find the connections to it without several layers of abstraction and backstory on [REDACTED]. String Theory is also weaved into a good chunk of fics before it.

(The ending won't be forgotten/It's written in the stars and the hieroglyphs/Sending the lionhearted/The stones break bones, but we're venomous)

(You don't believe in space/You don't believe in light/You don't believe that anything is well beyond your might/We walk across the sky and beneath the ocean floor/We're never going anywhere we've never been before)

House on Fire is the aftermath of String Theory, and a large vibe of We ARE Struggling Together! (Rise Against says it’s about parenting???? lol fuck that) (okay but actually, switch the parental love part to sibling love/general familial love and that’s a pretty good description....)

(So I'll just hold you like a hand grenade/You touch me like a razor blade/I wish there was some other way right now/Like a house on fire we're up in flames/I'd burn here if that's what it takes/To let you know I won't let go of you)

Belgrade is the klance song! It is a) bop b) always stuck in my head because it is That Good. The line in the chorus about ‘sweet songs of seduction’ is eternally funny to be bc a)they’re both ace and b)QPR’s don’t usually involve seduction as far as I know. Belgrade also leads almost directly into...

(We pretend in the darkness/We pretend the night won’t steal our youth/Singing me the sweet songs of seduction/Let me be the fool, fool, fool/Who will live and die for you)

Here to Save You is about Sam. Mostly. It’s also about Pidge. And Zaivorge cannons.

(A slave for humankind/I made sure I would survive/To stay alive/Now it's time to move on/When there's nothing left to prove/I'm coming to get you)

Iron is what eventually replaced Ten Thousand Against One. The plot has actually changed a lot since it was that song like. two years ago (three?) at this point. It has more of a focus on Keith knowing what’s going on due to [spoilers] and coming to accept parts of himself that are suddenly very obvious (kiiiinda the third closure fic?)

(You can't live without the fire/It's the heat that makes you strong/'Cause you're born to live/And fight it all the way/You can't hide what lies inside you/It's the only thing you know/You're embracing that, never walk away)

Birthright and Firewall are not exactly a direct result of Iron, but they wouldn’t happen how they do without it. They’re actually largely about Lotor, but then [REDACTED] swings back into the fray and things learned in String Theory/the framing story for Through Apocalypse Skies hit in full force.

(The voices in my head have all begun to sing/(The voices in your head have all begun to sing)/And they sure as hell hope I am listening/(I sure as hell hope you are listening!))

(They come to your dreams with illusion/They come to bring shape to your mind/You know how to stop the intrusion/We all have to fight for our lives)

and then, The Day the Earth Collapsed

(How much time has been elapsed/Since the day the earth collapsed?)

Here Comes the Reign doesn’t come into full effect until several months after Birthright/Firewall after Galraasa meets their fate, but starts with The Day the Earth Collapsed. It’s largely about Haggar and [REDACTED]

(You made something they can't take away/Now bring the fire of the burning sun on everyone)

Closure is placed where the fourth of its fics is. Closure in general is a lot of Keith’s character development and some of the struggles he goes through to accept his place in the universe and the fact that yes, he does have people that care about him. The last fic is me shining a brighter light on Closure’s chorus and taking a ‘last goodbye’ as never needing to say it again

(I am the child from the stars/That got lost in the dark/Between heaven and hell/I am forced to live on/I am the cause when you sin/I am the demon you skin/But there is no more tears to beautify/This is my last goodbye)

Ember and Soulbound are two closely related missions involving both Voltron and the Blade (specifically the Dark Whispers) in which [REDACTED] comes in with a vengeance, and some revelations about certain people’s fates are had. Soulbound is actually sort of from Krolia’s perspective.

(Dark matter falling from the sky/Dancing flames reflecting in your eyes as you watch them burn/Watching all your riches witches burn)

(Soulbound, endlessly forever/Locked between the darkness and the light/Don't drown in the swarming, blackened rising/Hold on to humanity and fight)

Darker Matter and Other Worlds Than These are. Well. [REDACTED] and [spoilers] and String Theory’s revelations rearing their ugly head once again, but this time with extra context and just a little bit of [spoiler]

(Dream yourself away/The pull of you shredding time and space)

(There are monsters in the sky/There are demons in the sea/I have seen them with my eyes/I've seen what you won't see/Pull the wool out from your eyes/It won't shade your frail belief/In the end we cannot hide/There are other worlds than these)

Godhunter is a fun one. The combined effects of String Theory, Soulbound, and Darker Matter/Other Worlds Than These come to a head and Team Voltron goes, well, hunting.

(She's been watching for a century/With hatred, and with scorn/If you know the hunter's coming/Then you hide or keep on running/'Cause she's slain the gods before)

My Darkest Hour is revenge for Godhunter, as well as a distraction from it, although Godhunter continues all the way to Louder than Words. 

(When the sun comes crashing down/When the world is spinning round and round/I will face what must be my darkest hour)

Faster Than Light is almost direct aftermath of My Darkest Hour, and sort of the inverse of Godhunter, where now Team Voltron are the hunted, even as they attempt to continue hunting. Oh and, Marzin and [REDACTED] are big parts

(Once more we're flying fast as light/Dark matter passing in the night/Pursued by a force we can't outrun/As we hurtle towards a dying sun/We maneuver through the remnants of a moon/On the solar winds of supernovas/There is not a place to hide, the Matriarch is close behind/It's plain to see she's coming for us all)

The Reckoning, This is a Call, World on Fire, The Wind that Shapes the Land, and Louder Than Words are the finale, what everything has been building towards. Earth’s faction, Haggar, [REDACTED], Voltron, the Empire, and the Coalition, all clash together in a final desperate bid to finish or prevent the final result of Your World Will Fail/Dark Matter/Eater of Worlds.

(I see your face, find peace of mind/Between the madness and the sadness and the fire burning/The end of war, the great divine/We'll see the day of reckoning)

(This is a call to action/This is a call to arms/All lives for one, together/There are no false alarms)

(World on fire with a smoking sun/Stops everything and everyone/Brace yourself for all will pay/Help is on the way)

(Search within/Uncover the will to win/Turn against the tide that washes o'er/Find the strength to fall and rise again/Open up the gates, unleash the force/I am the wind that shapes the land/Old as time and twice as strong/Oceans arise at my command/I alone can carry on)

(We have the force to fight/We have the blinding light/A war is more than heard/Coming in louder than words)

Dystopian Fiction

Dystopian Fiction is focused on what happens on Earth during the main playlist. I split it out because putting stuff like Cross the Line on the main playlist was getting clunky, and I figure Adam and Veronica (and the rest of the Paladins’ families, but mostly those two) deserve a chance for their story to shine on its own.

Dark Matter is on here because title track, but also it does end up with effects.

(Don't stop, don't think/Move up, don't blink now/On your knees pray for rain/Don't breathe when you take your aim)

Codebreaker is Adam’s song! I have him primarily as a cryptologist for the Garrison, teaching on the side and as a reserve pilot. Aviators says Codebreaker is actually about Cyperpunk 2077 but uhhh Fuck That it’s about Adam being The Best and dealing with...

(Codebreaker can't you find/Can you read between the lines of code?/Tell me all that you know/How far down the hole does it all go)

Cross the Line is the Éskhayklos’ image song. They’re a neo-luddite movement turned terrorist group that are upset with the way the Sol Federation is trying to fix Earth, stating that humans are the one that pushed it into this state, they should leave it to die and die along with it. Akane Shirogane was their worst nightmare. Cross the Line fits because, well, they crossed the line when [spoiler beep] and they were happy about it. (And “human cause” comes into play later when they pick up anti-alien leanings)

(Cross the line, redefine, break away unbent, unafraid/Together we stand in the dark/Seeking the light and what is right, together we cross the line/Our journey will come to an end and then our human cause will be/Justified)

Who Will Save You Now here is about Sam, and the aftermath of Here to Save You, in addition to its referenced role in the main playlist

(Alone with this vision/Alone and blind/Go tell the world I'm still alive)

The Day the Earth Collapsed is exactly what it says on the tin.

(How much time has been elapsed/Since the day the earth collapsed?)

Dystopian Fiction is the title track for this part. With the events of The Day the Earth Collapsed, the Garrison and our heroes on Earth are at their lowest point. It really is a piece of dystopian fiction, between [spoiler] and [spoiler]. And also: “Nobody can shoot me down, not just yet” is about Adam bc Fuck Canon

(I'm a dead man/In the wasteland/I'm a soldier fighting for superstition/Under search lights/In the long nights/We've been written like dystopian fiction)

The Reckoning is the only one of its little subset that made it over here, because it’s the only one that references events from before its eponymous fic (both verses are Very Earth)

(We're all alone, walking in twilight/The night has been long and so many have fallen/Feel no remorse, light will be breaking/Our freedom is worth it all)

Filaments

Filaments is the least complete, mostly because it’s the ‘sequel series’ of sorts. I have ideas for it, but I still haven’t posted most of the major story beats from the main portion of Dark Matter, so I’ve been purposefully putting it on the backburner. I do have enough to write Carry Me Home and put some foreshadowing in other fics.

Dark Matter is here because, well. A) Title track, B) yes, it still has effects. It’s the overarching theme, after all. Filaments sort of has a subtitle itself, which is ‘The Undoing,’ after the other part of the lyric that the subtitle of the main playlist comes from. It’s about undoing a past mistake (that wasn’t obviously a mistake until much later) and reconciling the events of Your World Will Fail.

(I am the keeper/I am the secret/I am the answer/I am the end)

Filaments is the title track of this part. It’s... a little hard to explain why without giving away the entire plot (what little I have planned lol) but it’s about the connections between different parts of the universe, and some fall-out of Darker Matter/Other Worlds Than These.

(These glowing filaments/Conducting this enchanting/Sarcophagus that's holding us)

Starlight is, again, Adashi song, and this time the happy part

(Don't leave me lost here forever/I need your starlight and pull me through/Bring me back to you)

Carry Me Home is what I’m in the process of writing right now, and it’s about the aftermath of the Quintessence War, specifically about how Shiro decides to settle down on Earth and what he does to build himself a home.

(Carry me home to the morning light/carry me home before you wave me goodbye/Oh, carry me home...)

[rphelperblog]

This Savage Song Book Quote RP Meme

book by V. E. Schwab - feel free to edit and change pronouns for rp purposes

“He could be the monster if it kept others human.”

“Every weakness exposes flesh,and flesh invites a knife.”

“It was a cruel trick of the universe that he only felt human after doing something monstrous.”

“I am holy fire. And if I have to burn the world to cleanse it, so help me, I will.”

“And she was happy. The kind of happy that smoothed time into still frames.”

“Why did everyone have to ruin the quiet by asking questions? The truth was a disastrous thing.”

“There would be a time to call the music. Time to summon the souls.”

“Safe. That is a pretty word.”

“Nobody gets to stay the same, little brother.”

“Why are there so many shadows in the world? Shouldn’t there be just as much light?”

“It was a cycle of whimpers and bangs, gruesome beginnings and bloody ends.”

“You don’t spend every day wondering why you exist, but don’t feel real, why you look human, but can’t be. You don’t do everything you can to be a good person only to have it constantly thrown in your face that you’re not a person at all.”

“There are no monsters in the dark.”

“Why would you even want to be human? We’re fragile. We die.”

“The perfectly good car comes with a perfectly dangerous girl.”

“You also live. You don’t spend every day wondering why you exist,but don’t feel real, why you look human, but can’t be. You don’t do everything you can to be a good person only to have it constantly thrown in your face that you’re not a person at all.”

“Nobody gets to stay the same.”

“I'd rather be able to see the truth than live a lie.”

“I mean, most people want to escape. Get out of their heads. Out of their lives. Stories are the easiest way to do that.”

“but all cities were icebergs, the real power underneath”

“The beautiful thing about books was that anyone could open them.”

“You wanted to feel alive, right? It doesn't matter if you're monster or human. Living hurts.”

“All he knew was that he was a body in search of motion.”

“I am not a monster, that’s what he wanted to say, but he couldn’t. He hadn’t found a way to make it true”

“The moment I met you, I knew you were different.”

“Being. Not being. Giving in. Holding out. No matter what I do, it hurts.”

“He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of this life,”

“Her world became a heavy beat, a rhythm, an angry voice.”

“There's a big difference between can't and won't.”

“Self-righteous and prone to speaking in third person?”

“He wasn't made of flesh and bone, or starlight. He was made of darkness.”

“There was difference between the inability to lie and the need to speak the truth.”

“And she was *happy*. The kind of happy that smoothed time into still frames.”

"Maybe that's what you're made of. Just like us."

“People are users. It's a universal truth. Use them, or they'll use you”

“He felt alive – so alive – but tarnished, his sense screaming and his head a tangle of dark thoughts and feelings and power, and he was drowning and shivering and burning alive”

“People will die,"

“No one saw me go. No one thinks to look for someone who's always there. “

“That’s what he told himself, over and over and over until he believed it, because truth wasn’t the same thing as fact. It was personal.”

“I read somewhere that people are made of stardust."

“People are users. It’s a universal truth. Use them, or they’ll use you.”

“Being. Not being. Giving in. Holding out. No matter what I do, it hurts.“Why did everyone have to ruin the quiet by asking questions? The truth was a disastrous thing.”

“You wanted to feel alive, right? It doesn’t matter if you’re monster or human. Living hurts.”

“He’d made the world a little better, or at least, prevented it from getting worse. That was his purpose. That was his point. Someone”

"You were right worst plan ever".

“Yeah, I mean, most people want to escape. Get out of their heads. Out of their lives. Stories are the easiest way to do that.”

“If she'd learned anything from her father, it was that composure was control. Even if it was just an illusion.”

“Not heights,Just falling.”

“because truth wasn’t the same thing as fact. It was personal.”

“Not with a bang, but with a whimper. In with gunfire and out with smoke.”

“The truth was a disastrous thing.”

“You’re a really shitty monster,“

“It's a monster's world.”

“t was amazing how easy it was to think in straight lines when he was in motion, even without his violin.”

“Even if surviving wasn't simple, or easy, or fair. Even if he could never be human. He wanted the chance to matter. He wanted to live.”

“Good and bad were weak words. Monsters didn’t care about intentions or ideals. The facts were simple. The South was chaos. The North was order. It was an order bought and paid for with blood and fear, but order all the same.”

“That pendant may protect you from the monsters, but it won’t protect you from me.”

“People are users. It's a universal truth. Use them, or they'll use you.”

“She'd seen a documentary once, on cult leaders, and the traits that made them so effective. One of the most important features was a commanding presence. Too many people thought that meant being loud, but in truth, it meant someone who didn't need to be loud. Someone who could command an audience without ever raising their voice.”

“But there was something else, too, a strange excitement at the idea of playing normal, and every time he tried to untangle how he felt, he just ended up in knots.”

[spoon-writes]

Ends of the Earth | Chapter 9

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Pairing: Mando x OC

Read on FFN or AO3

Summary: When Sinead's husband is ripped from her, she escapes the Hutt Empire and goes on a quest to find him. Since being a runaway slave in the Outer Rim isn't exactly easy, she makes the Mandalorian an offer he can't refuse and soon they travel across the galaxy, looking for her missing husband.

Chapter index

Chapter 9 - In

Sinead sat on a broken down astromech at the edge of the base, watching rebels scurry around in the dim light. Mando had gone to retrieve the ship, and Gatt had left Sinead with two guards, ostensibly there to protect her, but more likely there to keep her from poking her nose into things that didn’t concern her. The guards stood back, close enough to keep an eye on her but far enough away that she had the illusion of privacy.

A dug knuckled past her, giving her a distrustful look. He carried a cracked datapad in one of his feet.

She was watching a mouse droid scurry between the ships when a voice made her sit up. It stood out of the general din of the base, sounding too high and youthful to belong to any of the rebels.

"You never let me do anything!"

Sinead looked around as casually as she could. Half hidden behind a starfighter, Gatt and a human girl who couldn't be more than 14 faced each other.

"Mir ..." Gatt said.

"I could help, you know, if you didn't keep me locked up here."

Gatt pinched the bridge of her nose. "Damn right I keep you locked up. If I didn’t, you'd be dead five times over."

"You don't know that." Mir tossed her head.

"I do know that, Mir, I've been fighting since before you were a glint in your mother's eyes."

"I can-"

Gatt jabbed a finger at her. "You can do nothing, except compromising everything we've worked on. I don't expect you to understand, but as long as you're in my care, you're to sit your ass down and stay out of trouble."

Mir balled her hands and stomped on the ground. "This isn't fair."

Gatt drew herself into her full height, the fire in her eyes a mirror of the girl's. "Life isn't fair. Go help Bast if you’re so desperate to help." She pushed Mir to the side and stomped away, leaving the girl to watch after her, her small body shaking with anger.

Mir turned her head and locked eyes with Sinead. Her face contorted and she skulked off, disappearing into the mine. The guards let her pass without a word.

That was odd. A rebel base wasn’t usually the best place for a young girl, even one who seemed as keen as Mir to join the fight. Sinead considered following her, when a small dot on the horizon appeared, growing larger and larger until she saw it was the Razor Crest making for the landing platform.

Wind whipped her hair around as the ship touched down, the old landing gear creaking from the weight. The Crest looked right at home between the old freighters and starfighters that looked like they had been in one dogfight too many.

The Mandalorian appeared as the ramp came down, looking cautiously at the rebels milling about.

Sinead got up from her seat and approached him, her minders trailing after. "How was everything back there?"

"Fine," he said in his usual brusque fashion. "You sure about this?" He eyed her guardians.

"We have another choice?"

Mando sighed, which had to be answer enough, as Gatt approached them with a small band of rebels trailing behind. She lifted an eyebrow as she gave the ship a quick onceover. “You’re all set?” She didn’t wait for an answer, instead thrusting a datacard at Sinead, who caught it just before it fell to the ground. "Coordinates are on there. You only have so long to get through the blockade and back out before you miss your window, and then you're stuck, you got that?" She looked impatiently from Sinead to Mando.

"Got it."

"We don't know the situation on Luria, except that it's bad. Hopefully a ground-team'll meet you at the rendezvous."

"I usually like a little more certainty when risking my life," Sinead said.

"And I like not having to sneak onto my own damn planet, but it turns out that life isn’t fair.”

"You're asking us to risk our lives for a hope."

"Only thing we have in abundance. If you don't like it, you can get the hell off my moon." Gatt clearly hadn’t shaken off the effects of the argument.

Sinead bared her teeth in a smile. "If only wars could be won on hope."

"No, we need soldiers for that, ones who follows orders."

"Yes, sir."

Gatt didn't seem to appreciate Sinead's try at deference. "Right. This isn’t so complicated I need to go over it again, do I? Once you get back, I'm sure Sul-Bal will show you whatever it is you came here to find.”

Five rebels piled into the Crest, a quiet lot all dressed in dark, inconspicuous clothes and with the same sort of grim determination in their eyes. A short, stout human called Tanram was the only one who introduced himself.

Sinead left the rebels in the main room huddled together in a tight group, muttering amongst themselves and shooting furtive glances at Sinead like she was about to pounce.

She stood behind Mando as the ship left Celvalara’s atmosphere.

“He’s still sleeping,” Sinead said, looking at the child still swaddled in a blanket. Looking closely, she could see his small chest rise and fall.

“This has happened before I … I think.”

“Him sleeping for more than a day?”

“It was after … it doesn’t matter. He’ll wake up eventually.”

“If you say so.”

The ship shook as they left Celvalara's atmosphere.

Sinead sat down in the only unoccupied chair. “You don’t think we should’ve left him back at the base?”

“Hm. I don’t trust them.”

“Neither do I, but I’m sure it’s safer than an occupied planet. Gatt seems like someone who’s great with kids.”

"I thought he'd be safe on Tatooine and look what happened.” He glanced at her. "How's your head?"

Her head? Oh, right.

"It’s fine." She touched the spot where just ten hours prior she'd had a bump the size of a kaadu egg, which had vanished completely. "That stuff Peli gave me must've been stronger than I thought."

The Mandalorian hummed in response and fell quiet.

The navicomputer beeped once to let them know it had finished plotting in the route, and the ship hummed as it turned due north- insofar that there was such a thing as due north in outer space.

The blockade stretched planet wide, blinking in the murky darkness like dying stars. Many of the ships making up the blockade hadn’t been made for that purpose, most of them looked like old freighters and rusty spaceliners. Underneath, Luria’s surface swirled and twisted like a sea in stormy weather.

As they neared the spot, Mando slowed the ship to a crawl.

There was a clanging as Tanram up the ladder. “How’s everything up here?” His voice was scratchy, like he’d spent all day shouting. He stood behind Mando, watching the slowly rotating planet beneath. The glow from Luria bathed the cockpit in a soft, pink light.

"We're waiting for the signal,” Mando said.

Tanram sneered. "Fucking travesty we have to sneak into our own home like thieves."

Sinead shrugged. "Here’s to hoping you won’t have to do that for long.”

Tanram harrumphed as a way of answer. He scratched his cheek, looking around the cockpit, eyes falling on the sleeping kid. "You have a child with you?”

"He came with the ship," Sinead said, fighting the urge to pull the child into her lap.

"Right ..." he turned back to look at Luria. "Better hope it doesn't get us killed."

"Don't worry, I won't let him hurt you."

Tanram gave her a sour look.

“What’s the plan once we land?” Mando said, stopping the argument before it had time to start.

“We get down, there should be a ground team waiting for us.”

“Again, with the qualifiers,” Sinead said.

“Should is a helluva lot better than ‘no chance in hell’.” Tanram crossed his arms across his chest.

“Barely. ‘No chance in hell’ also means don’t get your hope up.”

Mando shushed them, gesturing to the blockade below them. “Look.”

Beneath them, a large freighter ship blinked three time before going completely dark. Nobody moved.

"That's it?" Sinead asked, leaning forward to get a better look. "And we're sure it won't suddenly come on-line and blast us to stardust, right?"

"Only one way to find out."

The Razor Crest came to life with a now pleasantly familiar roar and glided slowly towards Luria.

"Don't get too close to the ship," Tanram whispered. "This boat ain't invisible."

The Mandalorian's shoulders tense in irritation, but he remained silent.

The planet swelled beneath them, pink and green-hued lights dancing in the cockpit, seeming impossibly large as it filled the windscreen.

"Ten seconds 'till we reach," Mando said.

In the distance the dark ship hung lifeless in the air, and Sinead caught herself holding in her breath as they breached the barricade, her ears prickling for any sound of their detection.

They passed the darkened ship in tense silence.

"Go tell the others to get ready," Mando said, his voice terse. “Don’t wanna be there longer than necessary.

Tanram drew in a sharp breath, clearly not happy about taking orders from someone else, even if that someone was the owner of the ship, but after a second, he deflated and disappeared down the ladder.

"I wish they could all be this easy," Sinead said, sitting down at last.

“You think this was easy?”

“Relatively easy.” Sinead looked at the still sleeping kid. “Nobody has shot at us. Yet.”

"Give it time.”

Sinead huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, you're right. Can't wait to see in what new and inventive way this one explodes in our faces."

When the Razor Crest broke through the clouds, Sinead couldn’t help but gasp at the sight that unfolded underneath them; rolling grasslands broken up by dense forests stretched as far as the eye could see, deep purple and emerald green seemed to glow in the darkness. A solitary mountain broke through the earth, shining white in the starlight.

"You've ever done something like this before?"

Sinead tore her gaze away from the wonder outside. "Smuggled a band of rebels through a blockade to a planet in full lockdown? Can't say that I have."

"I mean this. The civil war."

"I'd say we're more civil war adjacent." She could feel Mando roll his eyes under his helmet. "No, I haven't. I've always done my best to stay out of … circumstances like these.” Normally, she would ask him what he did before he was a bounty hunter, but she had a feeling he wouldn't answer.

After skirting around a small settlement barely big enough to notice, they found the rendezvous, a small spot at the base of the mountain. Big boulders had been rolled away, making a small level spot in a sea of rocks.

The Crest touched down, narrowly missing being smashed to bits against the sheer rock walls.

As she got up to leave, Sinead looked down at the still sleeping kid, worry gnawing at her stomach. She touched the edge of the blanket wrapped around him and then left to join the rebels.

The ramp was down when she got off the ladder, soft starlight spilling from the opening. Outside, a rebel had fallen to her knees in the grass, whispering something in twi'leki that Sinead didn't understand, and it dawned on her that this was the first time they'd seen their home in a long time.

The four remaining rebels stood in a tight knot, their conversation dying out when Sinead and Mando descended on the ramp.

“You said someone’d be here,” Mando said, looking directly at Tanram.

“Clearly there isn’t,” the rebel said between clenched teeth, his dark eyes scanning the shadows between the boulders.

The twi'lek got up from the ground and brushed off her knees. “Erno, you told me about an old cache at the foot of the Barrow-“ she nodded towards the mountain- “Maybe they’ve left the package there.”

A human rebel, this one with grey wiry hair spilling from under his cap, rubbed his lower lip. “Hasn’t been used since I was a lad.”

“C’mon, Tan,” another rebel grabbed Tanram’s shoulder, “they’ve been compromised. We gotta get out of here before the blockade closes.”

“We don’t know that!” Said the Twi’lek.

“Really, Suri, you really wanna bet your life on that? Our lives?” The rebel turned to the twi’lek, his posture rigid.

Tanram’s lips moved silently, his unfocused eyes staring at the mountain. “We’ve come to far to turn back now. We’ll find the cache and if it’s empty then we’ll take it from there.” He turned to Sinead and Mando. “Stay here until we come back.”

"That wasn't part of the plan," Mando said.

"Plan's changed. If you leave now, without what we came here to get, you won't get within orbit of Celvalara. Got it?”

“We won’t be stuck here.”

Tanram sighed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “We’ll be back before that happens.”

“You better make sure of that.”

Once the last rebel disappeared between the trees, Sinead let out a deep sigh. “Maybe this really was a bad idea.”

"A little late for that don't you think?" Mando said, his shoulders tensing in irritation.

"Yeah," Sinead stretched and looked around the clearing. The white rocks reflected the starlight strangely, making it look like they were glowing from within. Scree shifted under her feet as she walked to the nearest boulder and sat down, closing her eyes. The rock felt strangely warm against her back.

Wind whistled between the cliffs, carrying with it the smell of clean and cold air.

The Mandalorian cleared his throat. Sinead waited for him to speak but when he didn’t, she snuck a glance at him through her lashes? He was looking at her, or at least in her direction.

"I already told you I'm fine."

He looked away sharply, shifting his weight from side to side. "I didn't ...” he looked at Celvalara in the distance. “I haven't thanked you for what you did. Back there. You- uh, you didn't have to risk your life like that."

"I'm sure everyone would've done the same." Images of people she'd met that most definitely wouldn't, flashed through her mind. "At least almost everyone."

"Still ... thank you."

Somewhere amidst the cliffs, there was a sharp cry from a bird.

Sinead tugged her legs to her chest.  "It's not the first time I've been held at blasterpoint and it probably won't be the last. Although I usually know what it's about." She let the words hang in the air.

"It's not that simple."

“I think it is. The Guild and I aren’t exactly on the best of terms. You don’t have to worry I’ll run off when your back is turned.”

“How’d you manage to piss off the Guild?”

Sinead opened her eyes fully and gave him a sardonic grin. “Let’s make a deal; you tell me how you found the child, and I’ll tell you why I’m not rotting in some palace on Sriluur.”

Mando fiddled with his gauntlet while Sinead watched him patiently. He cleared his throat and started: “An Imperial holdout based out of Navarro hired me to find and retrieve an asset.” He looked up at the cockpit where the child slept. “They wanted him dead or alive, would pay a lot to make sure that happened.”

A cold hard knot of worry formed in the pit of her stomach at the thought of the kid in the hands of people like that. Leave it to the Empire to destroy someone so innocent and defenseless.

“You didn’t leave him,” she said softly.

“No.”

“So that’s why you don’t know his name. Why didn't you tell me this before? I hate the Empire even more than I hate the Guild, and it would've been nice to know you have a bullseye on your back.”

He looked at her sharply. "You’re right, Chela.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to rid herself of the anxious feeling. "I never lied to you and I've trusted you to find my husband. That's gotta count for something."

He leaned against the ship, not looking at her. “Yeah.”

The conversation tapered off, and Sinead closer her eyes again. She didn’t like waiting around on the best of days, and here it felt like they'd ended up in a strange pocket of space where every minute felt like an hour.

“You never answered my question.”

“Question?”

“When you dealt with the Guild.”

“Oh.” Sinead grabbed a handful og pebbles and watched them fall from her palm. “I was … found out, let’s say, after I first escaped. A Trandoshan hunted me down on Toola, dragged me back to Sriluur.”

“You remember his name?”

Sinead snorted. “I didn’t really think to ask. Anyway, both the Hutts and the Empire were chomping at the bit to get a hold of me, so I guess I never stood a chance.”

Mando was quiet for a bit. “You managed to get away again.”

“Rebels attacked the Hutts right after the Trandoshan handed me over. Stroke of luck, really, otherwise I would be rotting in a shallow grave somewhere on Sriluur. I’m pretty sure they think I died in the attack, since I haven’t seen any bounty hunters for a while- except for you.”

“Whatever’s left of the Empire has other things to think about.”

“Like someone absconding with their bounty.” Sinead grinned at him.

“Hm.”

She didn’t know how long they sat in silence. A small bird landed on a boulder nearby, trilling a complicated song. Maybe the sun was about to rise.

There was a bang from behind the ship. Sinead got to her feet and grabbed her blaster in one fluid motion. “What-“

Mando held out a hand, stopping her in her tracks. He drew his own blaster and crept around the ship surprisingly silent for someone clad head to toe in metal armor.

A panel from the ship lay in the pebbles and someone was crawling out of the opening it left, wiggling through the wires like a worm. They stared as she made it out, landing on the ground with a loud thud.

Mir straightened up, pulling off an old breath mask and letting it thump to the ground. Her eyes widened when she saw Sinead and Mando stare at her.

Mando was the first to get his bearings. “Who are you?”

Mir reached behind and pulled a blaster. In a split second, Mando snatched it out of her hands.

“Hey!”

It seemed like everything suddenly went into double speed. Sinead stepped forwards. “What are you doing here?” She fought to keep her voice under control.

“None of your business,” Mir snapped, staring balefully at the Mandalorian.

“You-“ Mando stopped, breathing hard through his nose. “You’ve made it our business. Who. Are you?”

Sinead glanced at Mando while Mir flinched. “Her name is Mir, she-“

“Mirian,” she interrupted. “My name is Mirian.”

It took all Sinead’s willpower not to roll her eyes at the girl. “I saw Mirian back at the base, right after Gatt told her to stay put.”

Mirian’s eyes widened for a moment. “She can’t tell me what to do.”

“She’s the commander, telling people what to do is her job.”

The girl bit her lower lip, eyes straying to the nearest path away from the clearing.

“Don’t even think about it,” Mando growled, making her eyes swivel back to him.

“Did you really hide away in the ship? You could’ve suffocated!” The mask looked old enough to be from the Old Republic, cracked and leaking.

“So what if I did? I can take care of myself.”

Sinead ground her teeth hard enough to hear them creak, angry heat making her cheeks flush.

Mando spoke through clenched teeth. “Get in the ship.”

“No.”

He took a short step forward. “Get. In. The. Ship. And stay there.”

For one moment it looked like she was about to run, eyes flittering around for a way out, her small mouth a thin white line.

Mando took a step forward and Mirian stumbled back, her eyes flickering to the blaster still in Mando’s hand.

Sinead stepped forward, waving at Mando to stay back. “You want to be a part of this, right? All this proves is that you can’t be trusted following simple orders-“

“Jacin won’t let me do anything,” Mirian’s voice was a loud whine.

“And you’ve made sure she probably never will,” Sinead snapped.

“That’s not fair!”

“Fair’s a weather condition. Get used to it.”

Sinead paused, surprised at what came out of her mouth; it was an old Corellian saying her mother had been particularly fond of spouting whenever Sinead was being too dramatic. She’d always hated it and it didn’t look like Mirian found any value in it either.

“You can’t make me go back.”

"Don't be so sure about that," Mando growled.

"Ship,” Sinead said, hearing her mother’s voice echo back. "Now."

Mirian bared her teeth, her eyes filled with pure and unadulterated fury, but she made the smart choice and stomped toward the ship, her heavy boots echoing on the metal ramp.

“What a brat,” Sinead mumbled as she disappeared inside. “I’ll go with her, make sure she doesn’t steal the ship,” Sinead said.

Mando made a sound at the back of his throat, cocking his head at the panel lying on the ground. “I’ll … try to fix this. There are some bindings in the weapons locker.”

“I’m not going to tie her up, Mando. I got this.”

“If the other’s aren’t back soon-“

“We leave, yeah.” Sinead wasn't keen on being stuck on Luria in general but with the addition of the combative young girl, she’d rather risk getting blown to pieces by the blockade.

Mirian was nosing around the makeshift galley that Mando had somehow jury-rigged into the side of the ship. Sinead stood in the opening and cleared her throat, making Mirian whirl around. "This place is a dump."

Sinead took a deep breath, stamping down on the anger that threatened to bubble over again. "Believe it or not, you're not the first one to say that. Lucky for you, you're not gonna be here very long."

"Why do you even care about holding me here? Nobody saw me hide away, if you just-“

"I'm sure once they find out you're gone, they’re gonna put two and two together and Gatt would kill me as soon as she laid eyes on me." At the sound of the Commander’s name, Mirian looked away sharply. "I assume she’s your …?”

“Aunt.”

"Ah.”

"Just because we're family-" she spat the word like it tasted foul- "she thinks she can tell me what to do."

"That’s generally what family do.” Sinead sat on an overturned ammo crate, twisting a string between her fingers. “Where are your parents?”

Mirian's face froze and she got a blank look in her eyes. "Dead."

“Sorry."

"They died as heroes-" Mirian stalked down the length of the ship- "protecting this planet, and Jacin wants to hide me away underground."

"Sounds reasonable."

Mirian whirled around. "Shows what you know."

Shrugging, Sinead continued playing with the string. "I know that you stowed away on a dangerous mission, risking suffocating in space."  She sent Mirian a look. "What were your plan once you got down here? Join up with the others and hope they wouldn't do a headcount?"

Mirian's silence was answer enough.

A tense silence fell, only broken by Mirian’s heavy footsteps whenever she got too bored of standing in one place.

From above, there came a sound of something hitting the floor, and Sinead was at the ladder before Mirian had time to react. “Don’t move,” she told the girl.

The child stood in the middle of the cockpit, looking around with sleep heavy eyes and a lost expression. His left ear was bent like he’d slept on it.

“Hey, you,” Sinead said as she scooped him up in her arms. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

The kid made a warbling sound, pressing his head to her shoulder.

Down in the main room Mirian had of course moved to the opposite side of the ship, rooting through a compartment that had been left ajar. She’d found a hydro-spanner, which she dropped as soon as Sinead’s feet hit the floor.

“You took a child with you?” She took a step closer to get a proper look at the child. “What is that?”

Sinead suffocated a deep sigh. Now she knew how Mando felt. “A baby Lannik.”

“Lannik’s aren’t green, even the kids.”

“His mother is a Twi’lek.” Sinead found some jerky in a cupboard and gave the kid a bit, who wolfed it down.

“That doesn’t make-“

Mando appeared in the opening, clear starlight behind him making him look like a silhouette. "Someone's coming."

“Shit.” Sinead left the kid on her bed. “Stay there.” She looked at Mirian. “Both of you.”

Outside, the sky was starting to lighten to the east, a merest hint of sunlight at the horizon and animals had started to wake up between the rocks. A group of birds crossed the sky in a tight formation.

Someone was moving towards them, fast, sliding on the scree covered ground.

Sinead drew her blaster and moved into the shadow of a boulder, her breath coming out in controlled bursts. She watched the Mandalorian crouch behind another boulder, his head turned towards the sound.

The Twi’lek, Suri, stumbled into the clearing, her blue skin covered in a fine layer of white dust, half carrying half dragging a rebel, a trail of blood behind them.

Sinead hurried out from behind the boulder. “What happened?”

“They found us-“ Suri gasped, clutching the wounded rebel for dear life.

“It was an ambush,” the rebel said between clenched teeth. “Tanram told us to run. Get out of here.”

“They followed you?” Mando scanned the way they’d come.

“We lost them, but-” Suri took a deep breath- “if they find the blood, it’ll lead them right to us.”

The wounded rebel pulled himself out of Suri’s grip and leaned against a boulder, grimacing as his leg was jostled. “Their comm’s don’t work here. The rocks-“ he tried to put weight on his leg and nearly crumbled to the ground- “makes too much interference.”

Mando growled, a deep rumbling sound from his chest. “I’ll deal with this. Get ready to leave when I get back.”

“Take ‘em out quietly, if you can.” The wounded rebel waved Suri away as she tried to help him up. “Noise attracts too much attention.”

“I’ll go with you,” Sinead said as the rebels helped each other back to the ship.

“You need to go back and protect the kid.”

“It’ll be faster if we’re two, and we can’t risk any of them getting away, sounding the alarm.” Sinead drew her blaster again, checking it was ready. “C’mon.”

They moved silently through the rocky landscape, keeping to the shadows and trying to avoid the piles of scree covering the ground. The white rocks made it look like everything was covered in a fine layer of snow, making Sinead feel like she was back on Toola and she repressed a shiver as the old blaster-wound twinged. She pressed a hand to the nearest rock, feeling the gentle warmth it emitted.

Mando held up a closed fist, and Sinead stopped in her tracks. Voices moved between the rocks like a ghostly echo.

Three men moved between the boulders, not taking particular care in being quiet, their feet slipping on the ground. The man in the front, a big Twi’lek with teeth filed to such a point that it was a wonder he hadn’t punctured his lips, yelled to the others to keep up. They walked in a loose formation, covering as much ground as possible.

Sinead and Mando watched them from higher up, hidden in a shadow. He grabbed her shoulder and pulled her close. “I’ll circle around, take out the guy furthest down. Wait for my signal, then take out the human.”

“What about the big guy?”

“I’ll deal with him. Just do it quietly.”

Sinead swore as Mando slipped away, seemingly fading into the shadows before her eyes. She didn’t like hand-to-hand combat, preferring to keep within blaster range of whoever needed killing.

Her target was coming closer. He held a rifle to his chest, his dark eyes glinting in the moonlight, and Sinead watched as he took one, two, three steps and stopped to look around. One, two, three, stop, look around.

Down the incline, the man furthest down had stopped to check his rifle. As he stood there looking down, Mando materialized out of the shadow like a specter, moving close to the ground, ready to strike. He grabbed the man by the throat, pulling him backwards until it looked like his back was about to break before twisting his head and finally pulling him out of sight.

A small avalanche of pebbles slid from where the man used to be.

The two remaining men turned around.

“Yekk!” The Twi’lek shouted, echo throwing the word back and forth. “Where are you?” He started towards the place, lifting his rifle. “Quit fucking around.”

Mando appeared beside him, slamming a heavily armored hand down on the Twi’lek’s arm, making the rifle fly through the air. Mando ducked under a fist the size of a grav-ball, stepping around the Twi’lek now slipping on the scree, bringing down a foot on the back of his knee, sending him to the ground.

The human fumbled with his rifle, trying to raise it, when Sinead slammed into his back, bearing down on him with all her weight. She pulled pack his hair and drew her blade across his throat, feeling hot blood cover her hand.

He sputtered once, grabbing at his throat before finally going limp.

Mando let go of the Twi’lek, who fell lifeless to the ground, large dark eyes staring unseeing into the sky.

“Not bad,” Sinead said, wiping her hand on the fallen man’s jacket.

“Let’s get out of here,” Mando said, not sparing a glance at the dead men.

 They hurried back to the ship. While they walked, Sinead couldn’t help but watch Mando move through the uneven terrain. While he wasn’t uncoordinated in any sense of the word, back there he’d moved like a snake in the grass, striking quickly and brutally, not giving them a chance to react before it was too late.

Suri was cleaning the other rebel’s wounds when Mando and Sinead came up the ramp.

“You handled it?” The rebel asked between clenched teeth.

“Yeah,” Sinead said, while Mando went to the bunk to the child who watched everything unfold in solemn silence. “What about the others?”

“Tanram said to take off without them.”

“How’ll they get off planet?”

“I’m more concerned about us getting off planet,” said Suri, winching as she stretched her right arm. “If we’re still here when the blockade ship regains power …”

"Yeah, we know," Mando said.

Sinead had just pressed the button to close the ramp when she faltered and turned around. "Where's Mirian?"

The rebels froze. "What? Mirian is here?"

"She stowed away on the ship,” Sinead said, her voice sounding like it came from far off. She stumbled to the ladder and poked her head into the empty cockpit. "She's not here."

"Me-nesh," Suri swore and slammed her fist down on the floor. The wounded rebel hid his face in his hands. "We have to find her."

The Mandalorian sat the child back down on the bunk, his movements carefully restrained. “She knows this place?” His voice shook with barely concealed anger.

"I-I don't know."

"You know where she would go?"

Suri shrugged hopelessly. "I’ve no idea. I’ve only seen her on the base.”

Mando rounded on the wounded rebel. "Can you still fight?"

The rebel fought up into standing position, waving Suri away when she tried helping. “Give me a blaster and I’ll give ‘em hell.”

"Watch the kid," Mando said. "We'll go look for her."

Outside, the dawn was still only a hint of color in the east. Sinead turned around on her heels, trying to spot a clue to where Mirian might have run off to.

“I’ll head up the mountain,” Suri said. “See if I can spot her. Down east is the settlement we passed; she might have gone that way.” She pulled her lekku, looking worried at the sky. “Don’t get caught.”

“Likewise, right? Be careful.”

“Don’t call her name, the Collective might still be around.”

Sinead checked that her blaster was still safely holstered, and she and Mando set out on the narrow path that led south, towards the slowly rising sun.

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