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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 11 days ago

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Cannibals [Chapter 8: Magma and Sky]

A/N: Only 2 chapters left!!! 🥳❤️💙🦇

Series summary: You are his sister, his lover, his betrothed despite everyone else’s protests; you have always belonged to Aemond and believe you always will. But on the night he returns from Storm’s End with horrifying news, the trajectories of your lives are irrevocably changed. Will the war of succession make your bond permanent, or destroy the twisted and fanatical love you share?

Chapter warnings: Language, mentions of sexual content (18+ readers only), grief and torment, a fun field trip to a volcanic rock, Red and Aemond have a very honest conversation, enjoy our special guest stars!!! 😉🔮🐍

Word count: 5.1k

❤️ All my writing can be found HERE! 💙

Tagging: @themoonofthesun @chattylurker @moonfllowerr @ecstaticactus @mrs-starkgaryen, more in comments 🥰

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“I was with somebody else.”

You startle and look up to see Aemond standing under the arch of the arbor grown over with a quilt of red roses, twisted and thorny and thick enough to drape you in shadows. You are sitting cross-legged on the stone bench and reading a book about all the known varieties of bats; Helaena found it for you in some dusty, ill-lit corner of the library when she was searching for texts concerning insects. It is still the waning days of summer in King’s Landing, and Viserys is the king, and thin threads of sunlight like golden strands of a spider’s web fall down through gaps in the arbor. Last night was the first time Aemond touched you like more than a brother, claimed you, transfixed you, and you are already alight with the lust-red craving to do it again.

Here, now, in the garden of the Red Keep, Aemond won’t meet your eyes. Instead, he stares fixedly into the contorted nest of roses, wild green punctuated with blooms of crimson like blood or rubies or glowing embers. You have no idea what he means. You reply after a moment, closing your book: “With somebody…?”

“Before,” Aemond says, like it takes great effort. He is still not looking at you. “Years ago. It wasn’t my intention for that to happen, I didn’t plan it, I didn’t ask for it…but I didn’t stop it either.” His reticent blue gaze drops to the cobblestones. His voice is very soft, barely audible. “In a brothel…there was…”

Now you understand. “I know, Aemond.”

His attention jolts back to you, a fracture set, a lightning strike. “You do?”

“Aegon told me. He felt badly about it afterwards, he thought he shouldn’t have done it, but he…” You gesture as if you holding a goblet of wine, and Aemond nods. He was drunk, he was reckless, he mistook it for a favor. But he was wrong.

“You will benefit from what I’ve learned,” Aemond says, as if still trying to convince you not to be appalled or angry. In truth, you are neither. “I hope that is some comfort to you.”

“I don’t find comfort in anything that causes you pain,” you reply honestly, tenderly. A warm breeze blows in off the sea, tasting like salt and rustling the roses and the leaves. This morning you tucked a single flower into your braid, a blue forget-me-not. Now you touch it self-consciously. “Do you mind that I’m so unpracticed?”

Aemond seems to find the notion ludicrous. “No. No, of course not.”

“But you’ll have to teach me everything.”

“That’s how I want it to be. I’m of the belief that if two people wish to be together, there should be no other parties involved. I had meant to be pure for you. I’m sorry I’m not. It is a regret of mine that I carry always. It is a failing.”

You shake your head, sensing his distress as if it is your own: a gnawing anxiety, a sickening drop in your belly. “It wasn’t your fault, Aemond.”

“So I am forgiven?”

“I never considered it to be a transgression.”

“Oh. Good.” His mood lifts; there is a phantom of a smile on his lips and a lightness in his stride as he takes a taunting step towards the stone bench where you sit. “And how do you feel? After what happened last night before dinner?”

And you grin with glinting eyes as you answer, setting your book aside: “Still hungry.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Seven days on a ship, and you don’t speak to Aemond once.

The weather is bad, grey and windy, sometimes snow, sometimes sleet, sometimes hail that pelts the wooden deck, and the vessel rocks in bleak violent waves. Aemond had arranged for the ship to meet him near Heart’s Home, where the glacial mountain river flows into the Narrow Sea, where you used to collect seashells to shatter and rearrange into the faces of the people you left in your old life. He had known you would not be able to travel by dragon. And so now Vhagar flies somewhere out there in the cold iron-colored sky and Aemond stalks below deck, haunting your doorway, painting the walls with his shadow.

A maester prods your ribs and says some are fractured but they will heal with rest and time. He gives you tastes of milk of the poppy—just enough to sand the edges off the pain so you can sleep—and compliments the cleanness of your scar. Two maids bring you meals and help you dress, wash the soot and blood from your skin, comb your hair. But Aemond does not touch you. He tries once as the maester is examining you, and you look at him with hatred that is primal and infernal and black like volcanic glass, and he snatches his hands away and makes no further attempts. But he watches you, and he waits, and he tries to piece the truth together. You can feel the bewildered turmoil in him. The ricochets of it echo in the mausoleum of your skull.

When you are awake, you stare at the ceiling or at the floor. When you are asleep, you dream of Jace and Luca. They turn to torrents of blood in your arms, or crumble into ash, or are buried in the earth and you are digging for them with your bare hands. You dream that you are locked in a closet or a trunk and no one ever comes to let you out. You dream that you are at the bottom of the ocean in cages of leviathan skeletons, dragons that lived and died before Vermax or Dreamfyre, before Meraxes, before Balerion the Black Dread, before any of the beasts that perished in the Doom of Valyria. You dream that Helaena is falling from the sky and you cannot catch her, cannot save her. You dream that Mother is telling you that you’ve failed.

Then you wake one dreary morning and hear the sailors shouting that land is in sight, and you climb up out of the depths of the ship and stagger to the bow, hooking your fingers into the rigging to steady yourself as the ship pitches and reels in rough surf. Aemond is standing there with his hands clasped behind his back, his black coat drenched with rain and sea spray, his scarred face far away, miles away, years away. Out of the mist rise the dark jagged walls of the castle that sits atop the island of Dragonstone, where Aegon the Conqueror once plotted his invasion of Westeros.

You ask: “What did you do with him?”

Aemond whirls, stunned that you have spoken at last. His silver hair, half-tied back, hangs in long dripping waves. Your own blows wildly around you. “What did you say?”

“The baby. His body. You took him away from me. What did you do with him?”

“He was burned as a Targaryen.” Aemond’s voice goes quiet, gentle. “Not because Jace was one, but because you are. His ashes were cast into the sea.”

Aemond waits for you to respond. You don’t, you can’t. You close your eyes and see Luca swaddled in one of his blankets; you feel Jace’s dark curls threading through your fingers.

Aemond reaches tentatively for your arm. “Red, I…I didn’t…I never would have…”

You turn away from him and walk from the bow to the stern—your cracked ribs aching, the maids fluttering around you and chastising your sodden ink-colored dress, saying you will catch a chill and die, and if you did you wouldn’t care—and you wait there for the ship to dock.

When you step onto Dragonstone, it’s the first time you’ve returned to the island since you were a child and you tried to claim Vermithor. You don’t understand why Aemond has brought you here, and you don’t ask. You follow the pathway up towards the castle as Aemond trails silently after you like a shadow. Behind him, the maester and your new maids trudge begrudgingly up the countless stone steps and shudder when they hear the distant snarls of the beasts that have lairs here. Cold frothing waves thrash against the shoreline. Gulls circle high overhead, squawking mournfully. Magma flows beneath the black-glass rock; you can feel the radiating heat of it, scorching blood in the arteries of the earth.

Just inside the castle, someone is waiting for you. And it is the first time you’ve truly been roused since Aemond and Vhagar descended upon Heart’s Home.

“Aegon!” you shout, and he rushes to you as swiftly as he can, his walking stick tapping against the floor, his muscles straining beneath knots of scar tissue, his chipped teeth flashing white when he beams. He embraces you like a drowning man grappling for a piece of driftwood in the currents, almost knocking you off-balance. He is laughing, he is smacking graceless kisses onto your cheeks, he is marveling at your face to make sure you’re real.

“You’re alive!” he says, cackling triumphantly. “All this time we had no idea where they’d hidden you, we thought we’d never see you again, but here you are and you’re alive—”

“She’s hurt,” Aemond tells him severely. “Stop yanking her around.”

Aegon furrows his scarred forehead as he checks you for injuries. “Are you really?”

“A few broken ribs. They’ll heal.” Your fingertips go to his mangled cheeks and scalp, to what you can see of his chest. You’ve never witnessed wounds this bad on someone who lived. “Your burns…”

“They felt even worse than they look, if you can believe it. But I’m still here.”

Not all of us are. “Helaena…”

“We heard,” he says, tears glistening in his large ocean-blue eyes. He holds you one more time, more gingerly now. “And those butchers will die for it. All of them. The Bitch Queen and her aged uncle-husband and her idiot children too.” He steps back from you and looks to Aemond. “Our spies have brought word from the mainland. The people of King’s Landing are in open rebellion, they blame Rhaenyra for Helaena’s death. If they can get into the Red Keep, they’ll murder her and free Mother. The Hightower army will soon cross the Blackwater Rush.”

“Daeron knows to wait?” Aemond replies.

“A raven has been sent. I can’t say if he’ll listen.”

“He’d better. Tessarion may have proven herself quick and ferocious, but she is small. She must not fly against Silverwing and Syrax alone.”

“I told him!” Aegon says, exasperated. He means: What else can I do about it? He is still clutching his stick and leaning heavily upon it. He can’t fight as a soldier; he can barely even walk. “So what happened at Heart’s Home? Were the bastard and Vermax there? Did you kill him? Did he beg for you to spare his life, did he weep for the memory of poor pathetic little Luke Strong?”

Aemond doesn’t respond. He winces instead, then shakes his head like he’s telling Aegon to stop talking. You look down at the stone floor, and in the relentless grey gloom of the castle, the island, you feel the white-hot searing of grief and fury in your throat, and if you were a dragon it would not be invisible but a fire that consumes flesh all the way down to its bones.

“What’s wrong?” Aegon asks Aemond, alarmed. “What did you do?”

There are echoing footsteps on the stone staircase, and you are startled to see a woman descending. You’ve never met her before, and you would know if you had; her skin is like moonlight and her pale eyes wide and staring. Black hair hangs to her waist, and it makes you think of swaying branches of a willow tree, or strands of seaweed washing up on the beach outside the Red Keep, or feathers of ravens. She wears a velvet gown the color of moss. Her belly is rounded, just beginning to show. She rests a little white paw of a hand on it and studies you curiously, tilting her head. She is four or five months pregnant.

You gape at her, then turn to Aemond and Aegon, both of whom have averted their eyes. “Whose child is that?”

No one answers you. Instead, Aemond says to the woman briskly: “Your insights were accurate. You will be rewarded accordingly. At the conclusion of the war, you will take up residence at Harrenhal. Until then, you will make yourself scarce here.”

She curtseys; it is a strange, awkward motion, angles in all the wrong places. “Yes, my prince.” But she hesitates before leaving, still watching you. As she strokes the arc of her belly, things kindle in her coin-silver eyes like embers exposed to air: fascination, envy, a vague vicarious fondness. You stare back, thunderstruck. Her long fingernails are filthy with soil or ash.

Whose child? Aemond’s?

You cannot ignore a sharp, nauseous lurch in your own belly, a place where no life grows. Beside you, Aemond is palpably uneasy. You can feel it sweating out of his pores, you can hear it in the sick thudding pulse of his bloodstream. You are reminded of a confession he once brought to you in the garden of the Red Keep as you sat under the shadow of an arbor of scarlet roses.

“Back to the kitchen, witch,” Aegon flings at the woman. “Or the garden, or the cliffsides, or wherever you were haunting before your intrusion.”

She points a talon-like fingernail at you as she begins to ascend the steps. “She is here, but is she yours again?”

“Out!” Aegon barks, and when she has vanished he sighs wearily, as if this is a recurring inconvenience.

You look at Aemond, repulsed, bewildered, betrayed. He says: “Come with me and I’ll explain.”

For a moment, you do not acquiesce. You only glare savagely at him, and if this was before he left King’s Landing a year ago—before Rook’s Rest, before Rhaenyra seized the city and imprisoned you, before Heart’s Home, before your marriage to Jace, before Luca—Aemond would grab you and drag you to wherever he wanted you to be, and he would know that when you fought him you didn’t mean it. But he doesn’t touch you now.

Instead he implores you in a hushed voice: “Please.” And you follow him out of the grey and into the flickering amber light of the Chamber of the Painted Table, where a sweltering hearth crackles and candles burn down into pools of white wax. Westeros is illuminated by fire, like all the places Aemond has burned over the past year. There are chairs positioned around the table. You sit by the Vale; Aemond takes his place across from you near the Reach, where the Hightowers hail from, where your youngest brother Daeron has spent the war waging his battles and torching his enemies. A maid brings two goblets of red wine. You can’t drink it, just like Helaena couldn’t eat blackberry jam after Jaehaerys was beheaded in front of her. Aemond watches you push the cup away and then tells the maid to bring cider instead. You wait without speaking, the only sounds the splitting of wood in the fire and the rumble of the ocean outside and the distant growls of dragons. When the maid reappears with cider, it is a cloudy goldish color and hot and tastes of fermented apples. You sip it listlessly. The maid departs and closes the door behind her.

“It was an exchange,” Aemond says.

“An exchange?”

“Her name is Alys Rivers, she is a bastard of House Strong. I found her working in the kitchen when I took Harrenhal. She is an enchantress, she has some magic to her, just like we do. She said she might be able to help me find you. But she needed something in return. A son, a child built of our ancient Valyrian blood. An heir, a castle, a future. And since Aegon has been rendered impotent by his injuries, and Daeron is far away in the Reach and still a boy himself…”

“You lied with her?”

“Well, I’ve done it before,” Aemond says. And then, when you don’t immediately grasp what he means: “Been with a woman who wasn’t of my choosing.” He draws invisible paths on the Painted Table with his fingerprints. Firelight ripples across his face: a downcast eye, a scar to match the one that cuts down from your left collarbone. “She scoured the woods surrounding the Gods Eye for herbs, and feathers and bones, and all manner of strange talismans. She tried for months to conjure a vision. Then one day she saw it in the flames of the hearth: three black ravens, three red hearts. The sigil of House Corbray of Heart’s Home.”

“And for her services you promised her Harrenhal.”

Aemond nods. “She and her descendants will rule it as House Whent.”

“A new noble house?” you mock bitterly. “And what will its banners be? A burning castle? The charred skeletons of its murdered inhabitants?”

“No,” Aemond says quietly. “Bats.”

You look at him. His blue eye flicks up to your face again, to your black mourning gown—you will wear no other colors—and your unbraided silver hair that drips with rain and seawater.

Aemond asks after a while: “Do you like wearing your hair that way now?”

Distractedly, you touch the damp silver tresses that are unbound, soft and feminine and weak. “Jace told me I wasn’t a warrior. He wanted me to look like a lady.”

“You were wed to him,” Aemond says as if he still cannot comprehend it.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Soon after Rhaenyra took King’s Landing. It was Mother’s proposal. She convinced Rhaenyra to agree to it.”

Aemond is lost. “Why? He was a bastard, a traitor.”

You flinch. “Mother thought it would encourage the Blacks to spare us if they won the war. Rhaenyra thought it would give her heir legitimacy. Neither Jace nor I wanted the match.”

“But now you…you miss him? You mourn for him?”

“We grew accustomed to each other. There was true affection, there was warmth.”

“Did he…were you…?” Aemond cannot decide how to say it, or perhaps he just can’t bring himself to. You can tell—from the way his gaze drops from your face to your body, a mystery cloaked in soaked black velvet—that he is thinking of your wedding night, something you were supposed to share, something you spoke of often with desperate, willful, blazing yearning. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not purposefully.”

There is a flare of wrath. “It needn’t have hurt at all.”

“Why did you come after me?” you ask, and your voice breaks and tears spill down your cheeks, and your ribs throb and your throat is full of fire like a dragon’s. “Why did you kill all those people in the Riverlands, why did you burn Heart’s Home, why couldn’t you just…just…just leave me there?” Luca and Jace would still be alive. Lady Caro would still be alive. Tens of thousands of people wouldn’t have burned or starved.

Aemond is incredulous. His voice grows louder; firelight engulfs him like he is drowning in a lake of it. “I swore I would find you if you were ever taken away.”

“I waited for you. I wondered where you were. I stood in the rookery and stared out into the Mountains of the Moon and agonized over why you couldn’t hear me or see me, why you didn’t arrive on Vhagar to save me, but you never came, and so I tried to forget the promises we made to each other because I believed you’d forgotten me—”

“I never forgot you.”

“But I was different!” you sob, bolting to your feet, pressing a palm to the glow of the Painted Table. “With Jace, I was different! I learned to be his wife, I learned to be a mother, and I was fine there, I was safe and I was happy and you destroyed my life!”

“I could feel that you were in pain,” Aemond is saying as he stands and rounds the table to meet you. “It was months ago, it must have been when you…when you were in labor…physically, I could feel it, I thought they were torturing you, I thought you were dying, and how would I know anything else if all I’d been told was that you were stolen by the enemy? You think Daemon is above depravity? You think it’s so unreasonable that I believed you to be in peril?!”

“You were reckless and cruel,” you seethe, shoving him away. “You always are. You’re always killing people.”

“When I flew over Heart’s Home, I knew you were in the forest. I saw the trees through your eyes. I thought I was freeing you, I never anticipated that you would return to the castle. I didn’t know you cared for the lives of anyone inside.”

“You should have left me there,” you choke out through tears.

Aemond tries to take your hands, and again you strike him hard, meaning it, hating him. “I would never have abandoned you,” he says.

“Why not?!” you scream at him. “Because you believe you possess me like a sword or a jewel, because it is sacrilege to let another man touch me?!”

Aemond is shaking his head. “It’s more than that. You know it is.”

You scoff at him, vengeful cynical disbelief. “In eighteen years, you never once told me you loved me—”

He seizes your wrist, drags you to him, cradles your face with his left hand and skates his thumbprint over the crest of your cheekbone. “I have loved you forever,” he says. “And if I didn’t express that in a way you understood then it was my mistake, and I’m sorry, and I’d do anything to change it. I thought you knew. I thought we both knew that…that…” Aemond’s lone eye gleams desperately; he is pleading for you to hear him. “Do you have any idea what this past year has been like for me? It was hell. Aegon almost died at Rook’s Rest and I brought him back but I was alone, I had Criston and maesters and soldiers but I was still alone because Aegon was unconscious and you weren’t there, and neither were Helaena or Daeron. Then King’s Landing fell to Rhaenyra and there was nothing I could do about it until I was sure Aegon would live, and when I learned you’d been taken away…I set the realm ablaze, I waded through an ocean of blood, and I did it because I swore that I would find you and bring you home. And now I have but you…you…you don’t even recognize me. It’s like you don’t remember what we were. Only I carry it now, I’m cursed by it, I’m consumed by it.”

You break away from him and Aemond lets you go, but he follows you around the Painted Table, shadowing you, chasing you. You pitch at him: “You were always so rough with me.”

“Because you wanted it that way and I did too, we craved it, we needed it, we’re the same.”

“You liked that I didn’t have a dragon of my own, you aspired for me to be helpless—”

“No I didn’t,” Aemond insists. “I tried to help you claim Vermithor, right here on this fucking island I risked my life when we were children to pursue him with you. And he did not yield but I wasn’t to blame for it. I cannot give you a dragon. You have to bond with one yourself.”

You glower at him, swiping tears from your streaming eyes. “You hardly ever spoke of dragons to me.”

“Because I knew it pained you! Because I have felt the agony of being a Targaryen without a dragon and I didn’t want to remind you of it!”

“You should have left me with Jace at Heart’s Home,” you moan, collapsing into a chair and weeping into your open palms. “I would still have my son. I would still have my family.”

Across the table, Aemond slams his fists against the wood. “Jace could never fathom who you really are. It’s impossible. He wasn’t like us, he’s wasn’t one of us. We are Aegon and Visenya, we are Baelon and Alyssa. Jace wasn’t a Valyrian. He was a Strong, and part of you would have needed to die to live with him.”

You stare desolately down at the Painted Table, glowing golden lines in the shape of the Vale. “Jace hated that I loved you. You hate that I loved him. I’m always at fault, and yet my crimes are so harmless.”

Aemond is staggered; he is heartbroken. “You loved him?”

I told him I did. “I felt something for him. I grew to miss him in his absence. I desired him when he returned.”

Aemond goes to the hearth, rests one hand on the stone mantle, and gazes into the flames. You can feel it like an echo, like a reverberating tremor in the earth: he is broken. You cannot summon compassion for him. Each time you begin to, you feel the still lifeless weight of Luca in your arms. After a long time, Aemond speaks. “I have to return to the Riverlands. I can’t leave Criston unprotected. Daemon and the Northmen will meet our armies in battle soon. Vhagar and I have to be there. If I can kill Caraxes, I think this will be over.”

You turn to him, dimly startled. “You’re going now?”

“I have to make the world safe for us and our family. Even if I’m not here anymore.” Aemond studies you, afraid to ask the question that burns in his throat. “Do you…” He breathes deeply, salt and misery and smoke from the fire. “Do you still want our side to win?”

“I hate what we’ve done to each other. All of us.” The dead innocents, the destruction of our house, the extinction of our dragons. “And you murdering Luke started it.”

“Yes,” Aemond agrees softly. He crosses the room and stalls in the doorway, looking back at you. He waits for you to say that you will miss him, or that if he returns there might yet be a future for the two of you, or that you will be distraught if he is killed in combat, or that you love him.

As the fire pops and crackles, you shrink into your wet black mourning clothes and say nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sprawled across the volcanic-rock throne in the nightscape gloom of the Great Hall of Dragonstone, Aegon gulps cider until his pain vanishes and his mind is a dull sloshing sea. You are slumped on the steps beside the throne and drinking with him. Neither of you speak it aloud, but it stands in the room like a ghost: you have both held a dead son in your arms, you have both lost a husband or a wife to this war. Torches burn along the walls. Outside, rain pours and the dragons creep and snarl. Sunfyre is here too, Aegon has told you. He can’t fly yet—perhaps he never will again—but he is alive and hostilely defends the cave where he dwells from the other creatures of the island: Grey Ghost, Vermithor, the Cannibal.

The Blacks believe Dragonstone to be abandoned, and in any event they are too preoccupied with their myriad of troubles in the Riverlands and King’s Landing to take it upon themselves to investigate, and so you are safe for the time being. You get drunk in the home of your ancestors, the Valyrians who carved out a stark, grim existence here, who dreamed of greatness, who despite all their magic failed to foretell their ruin.

“Do you know what he asked Sylvi?” Aegon slurs. “The woman from the brothel. Not the very first time, the first time…” Aegon smiles nostalgically. “Well, it’s like your first time riding a dragon. It takes you away and you’re just…” His hand flows in the shape of a wave. “Holding on. Mesmerized by it.”

“Sure,” you say, remembering not your wedding night with Jace but the evening when Aemond dragged you halfway out of the chair by your vanity and licked you, swallowed you, devoured you until you could not help but cry out, and you sank to the floor with your heartbeat thudding in your ears and Aemond lying beside you, smoothing back your hair from your burning face.

“Aemond only went to Sylvi a few more times after that. But she told me what his requests were when I inquired.” Aegon looks at you meaningfully. “He wanted to know how to make it good for a maiden. And who do you imagine he was thinking of?”

You don’t reply. You guzzle your cider instead. You want all of your bones to stop aching: your ribs, your skull, every place that Aemond ever touched you. You feel a strange smoldering inside, like all your bone marrow has been quarried and replaced with embers, pulsing, glowing. You feel something dangerous and primordial drawing closer.

“He never would have hurt you intentionally,” Aegon says gently, clumsily petting your loose silver hair as if you are one of the hundred cats Grandsire brought to the Red Keep after Jaehaerys was slain. “He worships you. He always has.”

“I can’t forget what he did.”

“Can you forgive yourself for letting him leave that way? If he dies thinking that you hate him?”

You swallow a mouthful of cider, hot and intoxicating. The room spins. Lightning flashes outside. “Maybe I do.”

“No, you don’t hate him,” Aegon says rather wistfully, with the solemn surety of drunks.

Alys Rivers wanders into the Great Hall, the train of her dark green gown whispering over the stone floor. Aegon scowls at her. She stops at one of the misted glass windows and gazes out into the storm.

“He flies to his death,” Alys murmurs sorrowfully, as if she wishes she could change it.

Aegon groans. “Shut up, witch.”

“Above the Gods Eye, the red and the blue, tangled threads cut by fate—”

“Be gone!” Aegon shouts and hurls his goblet of cider at her. It misses, strikes the wall, clatters to the floor and spills its contents in a puddle. Alys does not seem to notice. You sit upright on the steps by Aegon’s throne, watching her.

“He flies to his death,” she repeats, melodically like a chant or a spell. “Unless, unless…”

Alys looks at you, then turns to peer through the window again. Outside in the darkness, a monstrous beast growls, not Sunfyre or Grey Ghost or Vermithor.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #hotd fic #hotd fanfic

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david-talks-sw · 3 months ago

Text

Woah there. Coming in a little hot. Take a step back, take stock, and chill. Even when we're discussing (read: "arguing") about stuff, it's Star Wars. It's a fictional universe. We're talking about movies and TV shows and comics aka... having fun.

(Which is advice that applies to me too, for the record)

That said, you trimmed out what I said, so I'll copy-paste it below (blue text) before expanding.

For context, someone said that (paraphrasing) the clones are referred to as “property of the Republic” by Shaak Ti in an argument with Nala Se regarding Fives and there is no rejoinder, so this acknowledgment of the clones being property of the Republic makes the Jedi complicit in their enslavement, as they partake in a flagrantly immoral command structure that sent slave soldiers to their deaths.

My response:

Tone and context are everything. There's an intonation on the word "property" when Shaak Ti says it. She isn't saying:

"Fives is property of the Republic."

She's saying:

"Correction! Technically, Fives is 'property' of the Republic."

She's taking Nala Se's cold, callous term and turning it around on Se with a technicality to score a point and pull rank, in order to save Fives' life. The subtext isn't "Fives is my slave," it's "you don't get to take this living being's life without my say-so."

Ti is regurgitating Nala Se's lingo to tell her to shut the fuck up.

In-universe, "there is no rejoinder" because Fives is aware of this subtext and knows Shaak Ti's in his corner. His life was on the line and Shaak Ti saved him.

Out-of-universe, "there is no rejoinder" because it's the ending of a 22-minute episode from a children's TV show 😃 and the point of the scene isn't to argue semantics about the ownership of the clones it's to save Fives' life. The beats of the scene can be boiled down to:

Nala Se argues fervently for Fives to die.

Shaak Ti is like "stfu no, I'm taking him to Coruscant"

Fives is grateful that Shaak Ti saved his life.

If the argument Nala Se used was, I dunno... "he must be terminated because the virus is contagious" then the beats of the scene would play out the same. Because again: the narrative, the story being told in this episode, ends with Shaak Ti coming in with the clutch and saving Fives.

The lore/sci-fi-ness of it all are mere details to move this children's story along.

You can read the rest of my response here, but since then, the user expanded on their point, explaining that while they acknowledge that Fives knows Shaak Ti's in his corner, what they meant is that there is no rejoinder from Nala Se. If it wasn't true that Fives was "property of the Republic", Nala Se would have said so in her cold and clinical terms.

Thus, for them, the point still stands.

And, uh, I'm not sure it does. Because the episode right before, Nala Se does counter Shaak Ti's argument by saying "nu-uh, the clones are property of the Kaminoans and we're leasing them to you."

So at some point, we either:

Point and go "IT'S A PLOT HOLE, BAD WRITING!" and acknowledge the point is thus moot.

Headcanon our way through this, theorizing that this point of semantics was argued by Shaak Ti and Nala Se and subsequently solved off-screen, in-between the two episodes. In which case, Shaak Ti's word on the subject is indeed final.

Acknowledge that this is a 22-minute story for kids, it was the end of the episode, and they needed Shaak Ti to come up with a technicality so as to save Fives without seeming unreasonable, and this is the best the writers could come up with.

I'm gonna go ahead and take option #3.

But, anon, this reaction of yours does open the door on a bigger point I've argued before.

All I did was bring proper context back to Shaak Ti's words, when they had been taken out of it.

And in discussion about the Jedi, this gets done very often. A sentence - or even words within one - will get plucked out of context and lore or fanon will form around it.

Here's some examples.

"Obi-Wan said that Anakin is pathetic!"

Context:

A pathetic life form.

He's comparing Anakin to Jar Jar, y'all.

AKA someone who had been exiled and was later about to be executed when they found him. AKA someone who has pathos, who inspires pity. Aka someone PATHETIC.

George himself describes Vader as pathetic.

That's because "pathetic" isn't just a judgmental term.

Resulting interpretation: Obi-Wan isn't saying Anakin is "ew, pathetic!" he's disagreeing with Qui-Gon's tendency to pick up strays and fails to see the point of them tagging along on the mission. He is proved wrong later and this ties in to his character arc about learning to see the value in listening to Guide archetype characters like Jar Jar or Ep. 1 Anakin.

"Yoda said the Jedi are arrogant."

Context:

Obi-Wan is bitching about Anakin being arrogant due to being so skillful, and Yoda tells Obi-Wan:

Resulting interpretation: Yoda is speaking in riddles, as per usual. He's being cheeky and implicitly telling Obi-Wan that he can be arrogant too sometimes, in his own Yoda-esque way.

Yoda is not "lamenting how far the Jedi have fallen". It's just another way of saying "we're all human, nobody's perfect."

"Mace said he doesn't trust Anakin."

Context:

Obi-Wan: “Anakin did not take to his assignment with much enthusiasm.” Mace: “It’s very dangerous putting them [Anakin & Palpatine] together. I don’t think the boy can handle it.”

Resulting interpretation: Anakin - not, by his own admission, the most subtle Jedi - is being asked to secretly spy on someone he considers a close friend, a mentor, a father even... aka someone who'll read Anakin like an open book (which is exactly what ends up happening).

Would you trust Anakin with that mission?

Because I sure as hell wouldn't. And that's what Mace is saying.

If it's "fucking disgusting" to point out the context in each of the above situations, during a Star Wars analysis or discussion, I fail to see why.

#QnA #Shaak Ti #long post #discussion

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threepandas · 6 months ago

Text

Bad End, Chosen: Part 4

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The Cycles never "loaded" back in at quite the same point. It was something I had noticed, though I had only suffered a few of them so far. It was like the God's were hoping "Chapter" to "Chapter", fickle and easily bored, trying desperately to find something NEW.

It made planning all but impossible.

Where... where was I?

A simple room. A suitcase before me. Loading or unloading? I held a robe in my hands. Painfully familiar. I had worn them for years. The highly protective robes of Mage initiates, at the Magic Tower. Meant to work as armor, life support, even... God's forbid, an emergency beacon. They were hideous. Function over form.

I could cry, for how deeply I loved these ugly robes.

No one had EVER been able to figure out how to style them properly. God's know, we had TRIED. But when The Dark came? This ugly, ugly things? These long complained about hand-me-downs? Oh... oh they had saved so, SO many student's lives.

Such tiny little things. Pulled from the rubble, still breathing. All because of these chaotic, gaudy, terribly comfortable and so deeply loved, old robes. T...They truely were as hideous as I remembered, weren't they? Blocks upon blocks of overlapping stitches and patches, too many colors, as though the tower was too stubborn to throw as single thing away.

We were.

We... we NEVER leave anything or anyONE behind.

Packrats, all of us. Such terrible hoarders. But... I looked around. It did not tell me the date. Was I leaving? Joining the tower? How old was I supposed to be? I pulled on my robes.

It felt like coming home. Like balm against the raw nerves of my still fragile mind. I felt old. Brittle. At... at terrible odds, with my young skin. I wondered if this was how she felt. The woman, the poor girl, that came before me. Before she broke so badly even the God's could not force her to perform. I did not want to admit I understood the impulse.

Ah, there.

I had once, what felt like lifetimes ago. What WAS lifetimes ago. Bought this very calander. It was cute. Little fairy dragons danced upon the edges, delicate and joyous. They were, of course, incorrectly drawn. The artist had never seen a real fairy dragon, only heard of them. I had seen some during the war.

People forget that neither the Fae nor Dragons are sweet or gentle things.

They were... Awe inspiring. In the oldest sense of the world. "An overwhelming feeling of reverence, admiration, and fear." I believe the text defined it. Like living starlight and glass, sung poetry and water. They were the fury of long dead gods and the vengeance of beings who were divine unto themselves.

They removed an entire MOUNTAIN RANGE before they fell. Burned and reduced to molten earth, an entire inland sea. They died like STARS. Violently and with a force that destroyed the void itself. Consuming all that dared stand in their shadow.

Ha. And people think they're CUTE.

Ah...my mind is wandering again. I try to concentrate on the calendar. My... my mind doesn't want too. Oh dear. That's... that's probably a rather bad sign, isn't it?

Opening my eyes at the beginning of the cycle had brough such... CLARITY. As though my head had been held under murky water and finally, FINALLY, I was able to scramble free. But... much like the drowned... I felt something like a high. Adrift. Without my anchor. I wanted my Gran-...

NO.

I grab the dresser before me. Hard enough my knuckles go white. My wide eyes focus far away. Seeing without seeing. Hyperfocused on the woodgrain before me. I am my OWN anchor. Feel the magic in your veins. The push and pull of the world. We are not his slave! Not his PET, to keep and cherish. A toy on a shelf.

I am a PERSON.

I DEFY MY FATE.

A cheerful knock at the door to my room. My eyes finally focusing on the date. Fuck. Moving IN, then. I do not know if I can act "normal". I... I will have to try. I can not unclench my jaw, but with great force of will, finger by finger, I release my grip on the dresser. Stand up. Glance up into the mirror.

I look like I am some hateful little thing, vowing some ugly little vengeance. Perhaps it is just my face. The way anger and spite only barely holds my bleeding edges together. My fear. I...I look like I am about to cry.

What a wretched child.

I try to force a smile.

It looks hideous. More ugly grimace and deep disgust then "oh, Master, how pleased I am to see you!". Fuck. When did I become so broken? A knock again. More hesitant. I breathe deep. I can not do cheerful, then. But...I... I can do nothing.

My face slides into an emotionless mask. Blank. Like a doll. Vaguely pleasant but meaningless. How damningly familiar. Gran-... HE reduced me to this in the end. A few steps. Almost distant, robotic, movement. And I open the door to a once familiar face.

"Learner." My Master smiles, awkward and uncertain. He had not wanted a student. I forced his hand. I know now I never should have done so. He was not ready. "Are you, um, settling? In? I know it is quite different from the life you once lived, but I promise. I will tale care of you. Well figure this out together."

Oh, Master.

I...I wish I could weep. I had forgotten this lie. How deeply I had once believed it. It was a child's promise, from a man who grew old but never, truely, grew up. I was to be failed again and again. Had once given him chance after chance. Because I had believed his words. My eyes feel hot. He looks panicked.

"Ah! W-what did I do? Was that wrong? Please don't cry?! Oh no! Uuuuh-!"

"Well THIS is a record. Not even a day and you've made the child weep." Comes a terrible voice. No. Please, Gods. Not so soon. "Here I am, come to greet my precious Grandlearner. And what do I find? My student, tormenting a child."

My Master sputters defenses of himself. Not even noticing that his own Master did not call him Learner. All but disowned him before me. My fear howls like a deafening beast in my ears. But... cowering? Will not... can not save me. Turning my head is almost painful, with how tightly my muscles have tensed.

That is not the look of a man who does not recognize me.

He remembers.

Alaric Blight stands in truely magnificent Tower Master's robes, as though he has every right to be there. Respected. Beloved. A legendary talent, the likes of which have not been seen for lifetimes. ANYONE would be HONORED to be in his presence. After all... he is a man who holds the world at his feet.

He is a monster.

"Hello Grandlearner," he all but purrs. Stalking forward to loom, as only an adult CAN loom over a child. The power difference between is even greater now. I can not even count myself an ant before him. I... I can not breathe. "What a delicate little thing you are. Utterly precious. And so SMALL! You certainly have a lot of training to do, don't you?"

His hand reaches forward to cup my cheek, sparks of deadly magic dancing lazily across my skin too finely for Master to notice, but not so fine I can not FEEL. It is a subtle threat. A little reminder. Not a single soul in this tower is safe, so long as he is here. All it would take? Is.. Just. One. Touch~

"I'm sure you'll BEHAVE for your Master, WONT you, Dear? After all, he only wants what's best for you. And a darling child like you, Grandlearner? Should be cherished."

"He's right." My Master said, clueless to the monster he let so close. Who so very dispised him. "But... but Master, I'm not sure, well, HOW exactly..."

"Oh don't worry, student of mine." Alaric Blight, monster of my nightmares, hummed in a laughable mimicry of pleasantries. "I'll be with you EVERY step of the way. How could do anything less? We'll train my darling Grandlearner together."

A terrible grin.

"Leave everything to me."

#threepandas #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere otome #yanblr #yandere otome isekai #otome game #otome #platonic yandere #mage reader #Alaric Blight #bad end chosen au #bad end chosen #my man IS gonna get his Found Family #by force is necessary #which is super likely #alaric no #alaric YES! says alaric

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collecting-stories · 8 months ago

Note

Hey hey hope I’m not too late with this 🫢

100 Compliments - #72 "You always look good."

Brian “Otis” Zvonecek x fem because Otis always does look so good in everything he wears 😍

You Always Look Good - Brian 'Otis' Zvonecek

Summary: Otis dresses up for a shift at Molly's in hopes of impressing you.

A/N: Sorry this took so long to write! School has been crazy!!

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

"Look at you," Stella teased, pinching Otis' side as she walked past him behind the bar at Molly's .

Otis flinched at the feeling, shoving her hand away, as his cheeks reddened. "I look the same as I always do," he defended. Still, he straightened the button down shirt that he was wearing, navy with little pineapples printed all over it.

Stella was unbothered by Otis' defensiveness. She stopped and looked back at him, eyes traveling up and down as she assessed him. "I don't know, something different 'bout you tonight," she replied, "you do something to your hair?"

"No," he insisted, running a hand subconsciously through his hair.

Sensing his unusually high nerves, Stella offered him a smile, "okay. I'm not trying to give you a hard time, I promise."

Just like she knew he would, Otis deflated, leaning against the bar and looking toward the door of Molly's before looking back at Stella. "I've been...putting feelers out...I met someone, here. She works at the hospital and she's...she's awesome. Incredible. Gorgeous. And I just wanna ya know, look good."

Before Stella could respond to his spiral of nerves, a voice cut in from the other side of the bar, "you always look good."

Otis' eyes went wide and he turned quickly to see the very person of his affection, you, standing there smiling at him.

"Hey," you gave a small wave, leaning against your side of the bar as if that might lessen the distance the wooden countertop created between you and Otis.

Stella backed away, smiling from ear to ear and no doubt going to find Herrmann or Mouch (or anyone that she could gossip with about you and Otis and how red he had turned when you told him that he looked good).

"Hey," he replied, mimicking your wave but quickly lowering his hand in case you could tell how clammy his palms felt right now. If Cruz was here he would definitely give him a hard time for acting like this. Not that anyone could accuse him of being suave but he wasn't lacking in confidence either. Well, he was lacking in the kind of confidence Severide or Casey possessed but he had a decent amount. "Can I, uh, get you a beer? Or something?"

"A beer is good," you replied, taking a seat on one of the stools and watching Otis as he grabbed a bottle of Blue Moon for you, "so...I'm awesome?"

"And incredible," he admitted, a smile creeping onto his face, "and gorgeous."

"A triple threat," you teased, "guess we're evenly matched then?"

It took a few seconds for the words to process in Otis' head, the recognition slowly taking over as he nodded almost dumbly, full on smile breaking through and ears going as red as the rest of his face was. "Yeah?" He meant to sound less like a question but he couldn't help the way his voice raised at the end of the word, turning it into uncertainty.

"Definitely," you replied holding up your pointer finger as you listed out the first of three things, "awesome: you watched all the Star Wars movies with me in one sitting -"

"I mean, you can't not celebrate May 4th correctly."

You held up your middle finger next, ignoring him, "Incredible: you literally save people's lives like, on the daily," finally you held up your thumb, "Gorgeous: self-explanatory. Look at you."

Otis leaned against the bar, trying to look casual and not completely flustered by your comment. "Well, I can't argue with that."

You laughed, "oh can't you?" and leaned over the rest of the way to kiss him.

"Hey! No PDA with the customers Otis!" Herrmann shouted from the other side of the bar.

You pulled away trying to fight a smile as you looked down the bar to Herrmann, Mouch, and Stella, who had obviously been watching you and Otis the entire time.

"How late are you working then?" You asked, "I mean, how many bartenders does this place need tonight?" You glanced around Molly's, slow for a random Tuesday, and then back to Otis, "not that I'm suggesting you ditch your job."

"No, of course not," he said, already turning to Herrmann, "I'm gonna head out, seems like you and Stella have it covered."

"Whoa-"

"Have fun!" Stella cut in, smiling mischievously, "be safe!"

"Oh god," the pink cheeks were back on Otis as he rounded the counter to meet you on your side.

"Hey, she didn't pay for her beer!" Herrmann realized as he watched you and Otis make a break for the door.

#otis zvonecek x reader #otis zvonecek fanfiction #otis zvonecek imagine #otis zvonecek fanfic #brian zvonecek x reader #Chicago fire imagine #chicago fire fanfiction #chicago fire fic #one chicago imagine #collecting stories imagine

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merlincmgirl · 1 month ago

Text

Exhibition - Boil x FReader - NSFW

Summary: It was highly against regulations, not that you and Boil care as he sneaks you into his barracks late at night. All you have to do is keep quiet. Easy, right?

Characters: Boil, Cody, 212th troopers, Waxer

Pairing: Boil x F!Reader

Word Count: 5,602

Warnings: exhibition, fingering, oral (female receiving), PinV sex, fluff and smut, dom Boil, possessive Boil, dirty talk, masturbation (other troopers), aftercare, sneaking around. I think that's everything, if I've missed anything, please let me know.

Author's Note: Okay, when I started writing this, it seemed unable to stop. So enjoy :)

Atiniir - Take it

The barracks were in darkness when Boil led you back through the winding corridors of the barracks on the Negotiator after you had met him in one of your usual hiding spots. There wasn’t many places on the Venator class that allowed for hook-ups and secret rendezvous, and even less that wasn’t taken by another couple that inhabited the ship. So usually, if a new one was found, it was by word of mouth that more and more vode would use them. Hence, why you were currently sneaking into Boil’s barracks because most – if not all – of the hiding places were currently occupied.

You had the feeling that this war was going to be the cause of more and more relationships and hook ups the longer it progressed. The fear of time being cut short and the intense emotions that war brought up in people meant that it was becoming more often that you walked in on someone. The most momentous occasion had been walking in on General Kenobi and Commander Cody making out in the frigate hanger. That had been an awkward experience that everyone agreed not to mention ever again, and Boil had been quick to drag you away, giggling at what had happened.

“What if someone’s awake?” you asked, as Boil tugged you along towards the bunks he shared with his squad. How would you explain you suddenly appearing in their room during their sleep cycle?

“I checked before I left, they were all asleep. Stop worrying” Boil assured, rolling his eyes before he came to a stop. “Just stay quiet for a sec” he murmured, pressing the button to open the door and all but shoving you in so he could close the door quickly behind him.

Standing as still as a statue, you didn’t dare move a muscle as you waited to see if anyone moved or made a noise. What if the door opening had awoken them? It was just about pitch black inside of the room, small lights dotted the perimeter of the room, casting a low light that just about lit the way to the refresher on the other side of the room. A hand laid on the small of your back made you jump, and a low chuckle was heard behind you.

“Come on Mesh’la, Hotshot is out tonight himself and Waxer is covering for Wooley. We should have the bunk to ourselves” Boil murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the nape of your neck.

Thank the stars that all the beds were bolted to the wall and ceiling. It would stop any shaking you hoped. As Boil led you over to his bed, you were surprised to see someone asleep on the bed above his. From the sight of his bald head, you could just about make out Waxer. Turning to your trooper, you motioned to Waxer and crossed your arms.

“Guess he didn’t swap shifts in the end. We’ll have to be very quiet mesh’la, think you can do that?” he teased, grinning against your neck as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his front.

“I can just fine! But if we get caught, I’m blaming you!” you hissed back, receiving nothing but another huff of breath against your neck as Boil guided you up onto his bed. “Or… or we call that favour in from Kenobi and- a-and Cody” you stuttered, as Boil’s large, warm hands slid down your sides and tugged on the hem of your shirt.

“Off” he ordered, helping you pull your regulation shirt off your body and down your arms. “I want to see your perfect tits” he groaned, throwing your shirt away somewhere.

You hoped you’d be able to find it in the dark before you had to sneak back to your rooms.

Boil didn’t waste any time in reaching for you, his hands gripping your breasts and giving them a light squeeze. He leant forward, pressing a few gentle kisses to your chest before he gave you a sharp nip. Hearing you gasp, he couldn’t help but run a hand over your thigh soothingly as he licked a soothing stripe over the mark he had made. Nuzzling into your chest, you were sure that he would leave a few beard burns that were going to be difficult to explain away if anyone saw.

“Keep quiet.”

It was the only warning that you got before Boil’s warm, talented mouth encased your nipple. His other hand came to play with the other, rolling it in clever, torturous touches. You barely had time to slam a hand over your mouth before you moaned, rocking your hips up into his stomach. A dark chuckle vibrated around your nub, as Boil sucked on it harshly. Gripping his hair, you tugged, trying to get him to move to a different angle but he refused to move, making sure that he marked you up good and proper.

Closing your eyes, you kept your hand pressed firmly over your mouth, swallowing back the moans and gasps that were desperate to escape as Boil switched his attention to your other breast. The sharp tug of your nipple and the cosy warmth of his mouth was a shocking contrast and you arched your chest up to feel more.

Boil chuckled around his mouthful, playing with your breasts and admiring the way they moved under his hands. How with each squeeze and touch your hips began to shift underneath him, like you were impatient for more. Grazing his teeth over your stiff peak, he pulled himself off you, unable to not admire the way you looked gorgeous underneath him.

Curling his hands into his black regulation top, he threw it behind him, not caring where it landed. He’d be reprimanded in the morning for sure, but at the moment, he had more important things to focus on. Climbing up your body, he covered you with his own, pulling your hand away from your mouth so he could press a teasing kiss to your lips.

Sighing, you couldn’t help but wrap your arms around his neck, losing yourself in the kiss as he slid his tongue over yours. His moustache tickled against your lip, and you couldn’t wait until you felt it run all over your body. The friction burn would feel incredible against your uniform. You wouldn’t be able to forget just what had been done to cause it. Feeling the heat rise in you, you couldn’t help but pull away, leaving a gentle nip to the trooper’s bottom lip. Boil’s groan rumbled from his chest, and you grinned against his lips when you felt it in your own.

“Be quiet baby, the others will hear you” Boil whispered, pressing kisses down your throat as he worked his way down your body.

“You’re the one that’s still talking!” you retorted, biting your lip to hold in a gasp as he pressed a kiss to the valley of your breasts before slipping further down. The blankets bunched around his shoulders before he tugged them over him, hiding him under the covers from anyone who glanced over.

You spread your legs further for him to make room for him, to cocoon him between your thighs. Calloused fingers ran along your waistline before they were replaced with Boil’s mouth, his tongue swiping and licking at your skin before pulling it into his mouth, determined to suck a bruise onto your skin.

A rustle of material and the sound of movement made you freeze, and you glanced over in the dark to see a vod had turned over in their sleep. Letting out a sigh of relief, you relaxed back into the pillows, sinking into the way that Boil massaged your tense thighs. Maker, you hoped that they all stayed asleep, it had been too long since you had Boil’s mouth on you.

Sensing that you had settled back down, Boil hooked his fingers underneath your trousers and pants and tugged them down your legs, shuffling a little to have enough room to get them off.

“Fuck! You look incredible!” Boil hissed, unable to turn away from you as he dropped your clothes over the edge of the bunk. The sight of you spread out on his bunk, naked and ready for him would occupy his thoughts for a while whenever he was on campaign. Just the sight of you was enough to make his cock twitch hard in his blacks.

“Boil!” you smirked, pushing yourself up to press a kiss to the scar over his right pec. “Are you going to do something about it or not?” you challenged, wiggling your hips.

Boil groaned, unable to turn down a challenge as he pushed you down onto the bed, one large hand covering your chest as he settled himself back between your legs. Throwing them over his wide shoulders, he enjoyed the little squeak that you let out at being stretched open for him. He could smell just how wet and aroused you were, and he wasted no time in capturing your wet, glistening folds into his mouth and sucking hard.

His tongue flicked up your folds, collecting as much slick as he could before he wrapped his lips around your clit, flicking the bundle of nerves there until you were letting out a strangled gasp of pleasure. Withdrawing from your nub, he pressed kisses down to your opening, his moustache tickling the sensitive skin. He parted your folds with his fingers, groaning into you at the feel of how wet you were against his lips. Boil’s talented tongue circled your entrance before pulling away to suck a mark on your thigh.

“Boil!” you hissed, annoyed at his teasing. You felt the scrape of his teeth against your thigh before a sharp nip was delivered. Instantly your hands flew to your mouth to cover the small moan that you let out. There would be a bruise there tomorrow, no doubt. It would be felt with every step as your thighs slid against one another. The bastard was probably counting on it.

Working a hand down your body and to the curls on his head, you gave them a sharp tug, reminding him to get on with it.

“Impatient” he murmured against your soft skin before returning back to feast on your core. He worked his lips along your entrance, probing it slightly with his tongue before pulling away. He was enjoying teasing you too much. The trooper loved how you were pulling on his hair, trying to guide him to where you wanted him, but he couldn’t help but resist. After all, the more worked up you were getting, the more you would gush on his tongue.

“Swear Boil, if you don’t fucking fuck me with your tongue, I’m going to- Kriff!” you hissed, all manner of threats ready to spill out but Boil chose that moment to finally push his tongue into y our quivering heat. Cursing, your hips bucked up into his face, wanting to keep him as close as possible to you. It felt so good as he licked into you, flicking your walls with his talented tongue as he held your thighs tight around his head.

Boil growled happily as he licked and mouthed at your soaked opening, spreading the slick further across his face as he pushed further into you.

Sighing happily, you closed your eyes, losing yourself to the feel of Boil eating you out. The noise the was making had you blushing, it sounded like he was having his last meal, slurping and groaning against your wet heat. His large, calloused hands slid up your hips, up your sides until they reached your breasts. He cupped them in both hands, squeezing and pressing them together. Your hips bucked up into his mouth, gasping at the dual sensation of him playing with your tits while he was devouring your pussy.

“Fuck sake! Whoever it is keep it down! Some of us are trying to sleep” a disgruntled voice called from in the darkness. You gasped, freezing as your legs tightened around Boil’s ears at being caught.

“It’s Boil! He’s got his lady friend over” another voice answered, and you knew that one was Waxer. The voice coming up from beneath Boil’s bunk and unable to hide his glee at catching his favourite brother. “He dropped her underwear right on my arm!” Waxer announced proudly.

You gasped, kicking at Boil for his mistake. That had probably woken up Waxer and he had been listening to you getting eaten out by Boil.

“Well I for one was enjoying listening to her!”

“You’re not sleeping in the bunk next to them!”

“Well cover your ears and let the rest of us enjoy it!”

“Ow! Shut up di’kuts or you’ll be hearing my fist slam into your face!” Boil growled out, wincing at the kick he had received in his back.

The arguing between his brothers settled down and you couldn’t help but stare down at Boil, unsure of what to do now. Most, if not all, of the barrack was now wide awake, and listening to you as Boil rubbed soothing circles on your side as he hovered over you.

“What do you say, cyare? Want to give my brothers a show while I make you cum over and over again?” he suggested, keeping his voice light with no expectation in it what so ever.

If you decided that no, you didn’t want this, then that would be it. Boil would either shut all of this down or take you elsewhere. He wouldn’t let you feel intentionally embarrassed and uncomfortable. But the thought of his fellow troopers, his brothers, all listening to the way that Boil made you feel good. All of them hearing the sounds that wanted desperately to escape. Maybe some of them would even rub one off to the thought of you and Boil going at it in the barracks under the cover of darkness. It was an enticing thought and you couldn’t help but squeeze Boil’s arms at the feel of other people listening in and trying to catch a glimpse of you in Boil’s bunk.

Heat flaring in your stomach, you gave him a small nod but he clicked his tongue, shaking his head. Knowing what he wanted, you gave a small huff of irritation at having to say the words out loud. “Yes, I want that” you confirmed, dragging your nails lightly down his arms to his wrist.

“Good girl” he praised, voice quiet and only for you.

It seemed that now Boil had an audience, he was even more determined to show off and get you making the loudest noises that you could. He licked and prodded at your entrance, sucking on it slightly to collect as much slick as he could. The moan against you had a cry falling from your lips, and you heard several appreciated moans in return.

Pulling away slightly, Boil pressed one finger to your slit before sliding it in. He cursed at how hot you felt around his finger, how your walls gripped onto him tightly as they adjusted to the feel of him inside of you. He slid his tongue beside his finger, opening you up for him and still tasting your delicious juices as they poured from you.

“Fuck! Oh kriff!” you cried, as his nose brushed against your clit. You were rocking your hips against his face, hair pulling him closer and closer to you. In the back of your mind you realised that you should probably pull him away, to let him up for air, but Boil didn’t seem bothered. He wanted to get lose in your taste, to become pussy drunk on just the way you covered his tongue and the way you sounded as he gave you pleasure.

Entering a second finger on his next thrust into you, Boil managed to scissor them, stretching you open even more for him. He used his tongue to flick in between his digits, revelling in the loud moan you let out at that. He could hear his brothers were enjoying it too, as sounds of muffled groans and curses filled the air. Giving your slit another curl of his tongue, he pulled his mouth away to trace his lips up to your clit, keeping the touch light and gentle.

“Boil! More!” you whined, bucking up into his mouth and writhing as he curled those two fingers inside of you. On every thrust in, he made sure to brush against the soft, spongy feel of your front wall. Heat rushed through you, and you were barely aware of the gasps and cries that were leaving you.

“Don’t be cruel Boil! Give the girl what she wants!” a voice called from the barracks.

“Yes! Please!” you groaned, writhing beneath him before letting out a high pitched cry at the feel of his hot mouth closing around your clit. His lips pursed, sucking the bundle of nerves into his mouth before lightly circling it with his tongue.

“Oh she likes that! Keep at it, vod!”

The commentary was making you feel even more effected than you normally would. You could feel the heat rising in you, feel the coil inside of you getting tighter and tighter, close to snapping with every brush of his tongue and thrust of his fingers. It did nothing but encourage Boil more, and he pressed a third finger into you now, the added stimulation enough to have you clutching at the bed sheets.

Boil doubled down, sucking and teasing your clit even more, fingers twisting and twirling inside of you even more as he increased the pace of his hand. He was determined to get you screaming his name, have his brothers know who exactly could make you cum like this.

“Oh kriff! Kriff Boil! Don’t stop!” you cried, tugging at his hair as you rocked down onto his talented fingers. The wave of pleasure was beginning to wash over you and you knew it wouldn’t take long before you finally found release. Boil was just having fun keeping you just on the edge, just so his brothers could really hear who was making you feel this good, who exactly you belonged to.

Boil growled at the suggestion, the hand not fucking into you rested on your lower stomach, just above your pubic bone. With a devastating thrust and a hard suck of his mouth, he pressed down and towards your core.

The effect was immediate, and you were cumming so hard that you could have sworn your vision went white. Your toes curled and your fists clenched into the sheets as you felt waves and waves of pleasure wash over you. Boil’s name echoed around the room as you shook beneath him, whining at the way he continued to feast on your slit, gathering as much of it as he could into his mouth as you rode out your orgasm.

As your breathing returned to somewhat normal, Boil pulled away, climbing up your body to hover over you once more.

“Fuck, she sounds amazing when she cums!”

“And Boil expected her to keep quiet!” Waxer’s teasing voice floated up to you.

Ignoring his brothers, Boil cupped your face and nuzzled his nose against yours. “You okay, mesh’la?” he asked, feeling the way your cheek was heated underneath his palm.

“Hmm, I’m good. Really good” you grinned, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him down for a kiss. Boil grunted slightly, but sank into you, melding his lips against your own.

He propped himself up on his elbow by your head, keeping you pressed close together but taking his full weight off you. “Still want to continue or shall I tell my vods they can all go kriff themselves?” he offered, keeping his voice low so it was just between the two of you.

“Yeah, I want this. I want you Boil, want to feel you inside of me, filling me” you grinned, leaning up to place a sly kiss at the corner of his lips.

Boil groaned, pressing a hand against the bulge that was pressed against your hip. “Minx!” he accused, following after your mouth but you were too quick, teasing him just like he teased you.

Sitting up onto his hunches, he pushed the black regulated bottoms down his hips and off his long legs with a bit of manoeuvring. He leaned over the side of the bunk and threw them directly into Waxer’s face.

“EW! BOIL! What the kriff? I don’t want your stinking blacks!” Waxer complained, throwing them across the room as soon as he realised what they were.

Giggling, you couldn’t help but lean up, sliding gentle, caressing fingers up and down Boil’s shaft just to tease him more. He was hot and heavy against you and you knew he would fill you just right, stretch you out and make you feel amazing on his cock.

Boil’s hips rocked into your hand, biting his lip to muffle his own moans at the feel of your hand around him. Boil was slightly larger than average length and of a good girth that had you feeling him for days afterwards. He really had to stretch you out to take him. But it seemed that he had had enough of your careful touches, the way your fingers glided up his length in barely there touches that only made him harder and ready to finally sink into you. He batted your hand away with an annoyed grunt, watching in the dimness as you laid back on his bunk.

“Please, Boil! Need to feel you stretching me open” you moaned, knowing just how it would affect not only Boil but the rest of the vode that was listening too. Indeed as soon as you had muttered those words, there was several groans of lust as well as a few muffled curses from around the barracks.

“Hurry up and fuck her Boil before someone else does it for you!” a voice snapped.

“Shut the fuck up, Cronk, if you know what’s good for you!” Boil growled, shuffling in between your legs and rubbing at your spread thighs. He notched the head of his cock against your slit before rocking forward, allowing his cock to part your folds and run along your clit.

You moaned, white hot pleasure bursting through you at that. Clenching around nothing, you reached for Boil’s hand, glad to find it in the somewhat darkness before Boil repeated the motion. Hissing in annoyance, you reached between you and guided his cock inside of you as he rocked into you with a strong steady thrust. Both you and Boil let out a muffled moan at the feel of him sinking into you for the first time.

Letting out a soft mewl, you clutched at Boil’s shoulders, trying to steady yourself against the feeling of him splitting you open. He was panting into your neck, hands squeezing tightly onto your hips so hard you knew there would be bruises later. Sliding your hands up his sweat slicked back, you ran your fingers through his curls, bringing both you and him further together. Even though you were surrounded by his brothers, your focus was only on Boil.

With a shaky breath, Boil pressed a gentle kiss to the point where your neck met your shoulders before pushing himself up. “You ready, mesh’la?” he asked, running his hands up and down the meat of your thighs, giving them a squeeze every so often.

Cupping his cheek, you couldn’t help but send him an excited grin. “Of course I’m ready!” you teased, dragging your thumb over his sharp cheek bone.

Boil let out a huff in amusement before he was lifting one of your legs up to wrap around his waist as he slowly dragged his cock out of your tight opening. His eyes stayed locked onto where you were joined together, unable to help as he let out a small groan at how good you looked taking him.

The drag of him pressed against all those spots inside of you that had you mewling, biting your lip at the sensation. When just the tip was left in, you tried to buck your hips, getting impatient at him teasing you like this. But as soon as you went to move, Boil slammed back inside, knocking the air out of your lungs. The sound you let out was guttural, and you had no control over the volume as it echoed around the barracks.

The clone trooper grunted, beginning a teasing pace of slowly withdrawing from you before thrusting back into you hard. He loved all the punched out noises that he was drawing from you, sunk into the feeling of your tight, wet heat clamping around him, trying to keep him inside of you with every thrust. “Mesh’la” he breathed in awe, leaning over you and pressing a messy kiss to your lips.

“Boil!” you gasped, panting against his mouth as he rocked you further up the bed. You slammed your hands out above your head, the cool metal doing nothing to calm the heated ardour between you. Locking your legs around his waist, you dug your feet into the small of his back, wanting more, wanting him closer to you.

“Taking me so well – kriff! You feel so good, sweetheart” he hissed out, ignoring everything else around him. It was only you in this moment. You was the only thing that mattered to him.

“S-so do you” you managed to get out, as another of his thrusts had you clenching around him, a burst of pleasure flaring at the way he brushed against your clit. It felt exquisite, every controlled roll of his hips had him pressing along your walls, the stretch making sure he hit every one.

“FUCK!” you cried, as he took one of your legs and hooked it over his arm, spreading you wider for him. As he sunk deeper, you couldn’t help but wrap your arms tight around him.

“Stars, she sounds incredible!”

“That’s it mesh’la, open up for me. Atiniir, you’re so beautiful” Boil growled, rhythm increasing as he became lost in the feel of you tightening around him, your walls fluttering with every press inside of you.

Groaning, you leaned up to nip at his lip, receiving a guttural groan from him that sent heat rushing through you. Fuck, he was making you feel so good, how would you ever be able to top this.

“They’re touching themselves to the thought of fucking you, mesh’la. Bet they’re wishing it was them that’s between your gorgeous thighs and fucking into your sweet, wet hole” Boil breathed, voice low and deep and full of lust into your ear.

You shivered, just the thought of the vode touching themselves and bringing themselves to completion because of the sounds you were making and how well Boil was fucking you into the mattress. It had the added bonus of you clenching around Boil, more slick leaking around his cock.

“Oh you like that, huh? Dirty girl” he hissed, hips slamming into you and causing you to dig your nails into his shoulders. “Bet you like knowing that they can imagine all they want, but you’re my girl. I don’t share” Boil groaned, pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to your neck in juxtaposition to the way his cock was pounding into you.

“Yes! Yes! Yours, just yours!” you cried, tugging at his hair as you rolled your hips up to meet his thrust. The coil inside of you was tightening and tightening, you were so close.

“Kriff, sweetheart!” Boil hissed out at the feel of his hair getting pulled, pleasure shooting down his spine and making his hips falter in their rhythm. He could feel how close you were, especially when his pubic bone brushed against your clit.

“BOIL! Please!” you begged, writhing beneath him as much as you could with how he was holding you. Fuck, you just wanted to cum, you wanted to feel him pulse inside of you, shooting his load into your quivering channel. Fuck, you just wanted Boil.

“Boil’s gonna break her at this rate!”

“Nah, she can take it! Kriff! Oh! She’s a good girl” another one replied.

Letting out a whine, you turned your head, spotting a trooper in the next bunk to you looking at you, his hands moving furiously underneath his blankets.

Just the sight of seeing the other troopers touching themselves to you had you letting out a loud moan and you squeezed your eyes shut.

However, Boil gripped your jaw, guiding you back to face him. “Look at me. I’m the one fucking you, mesh’la” Boil growled, hips slamming into yours roughly.

With bleary eyes, you looked up at him, seeing the lust and determination to make sure you felt amazing. He didn’t have to worry about that, you felt like the only thing keeping you on this bed was Boil and his impressive cock.

Gritting his teeth as he felt his balls rise and his own release getting ever closer, he took your hand and guided it between your joined bodies. “Touch yourself for me, mesh’la. Want to see you cum on my cock and your fingers” Boil demanded, brow furrowing as the feel of your fingers against him with every thrust pushed him closer and closer towards the edge.

You wasted no time in touching your clit just how you liked. The added stimulation had you letting out a soft cry, eyes squeezing shut as your release got ever closer. With every brush of your fingers, you tightened around Boil even more.

“Fuck, feels- feels like – like you’re strangling me!” he stuttered, voice breaking as he drove his cock into you, hitting that spot that had you collapsing around him.

“BOIL!” you wailed, as wave after wave of pleasure hit you, flung over the edge. With the feel and sounds of the troopers around you, listening to you and jerking themselves off, Boil’s cock driving into you and hitting those spots inside of you that made you feel amazing and the feel of your fingers against your bundle of nerves, you couldn’t help but fall into your release.

Boil grunted, your name spilling from his lips as he followed you over the edge, shooting his load into your fluttering heat, hissing as your walls drained him of all that he had.

He managed to unhook your leg from his arm before he collapsed on top of you, his weight pinning you down. Pressing his forehead against your temple, he breathed in the smell of the both of you together and sex. It was amazing, and if he wasn’t so exhausted, he’d want to go again. As it was, his cock gave a valiant twitch that pulled a hitched gasp from you, still oversensitive from your release and the fucking he had given you.

Closing your eyes, you ran your fingers up and down Boil’s back, kissing his cheek and just enjoying being with him. Your breath was slowly returning to normal when you felt him nuzzle against you, pressing a kiss to your temple as he smiled into your cheek.

It was only when Waxer came up to the bed that you remembered that you were still surrounded by the vode. Gasping, you clutched onto Boil tighter, hoping he covered your body from his brother’s eyes.

Waxer averted his gaze but handed over a canteen of water and some wet cloths. “Here, thought you might need this” he offered, keeping his eyes firmly on the ground.

“Oh, thank you” you murmured, flushing at the kind gesture. Even though you had been the one fucking while him and his brothers listened in.

“Thanks vod. Sorry for waking you” Boil apologised, sending him a wry grin. He took the supplies off Waxer and passed them over to you.

“Yeah, like it was a real hardship” Waxer rolled his eyes, before clapping his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “But I’ve got to get my beauty sleep. Goodnight, lovebirds” he bid, before getting back into his own bunk.

From all around you, you could hear troopers either cleaning themselves up or settling back into bed. Taking a sip of water from the canteen, you wondered how you would get out of here without disturbing them further.

“Spread your legs a little, mesh’la” Boil muttered, gently cleaning you up as your releases trickled from you. With great care, he made sure the warm water soothed your aching muscles and got everything off you before throwing them over to the laundry chute with a well aimed throw – even in the dark.

“Guess I should be going” you stated, passing him the canteen to take a drink of. You reached for the blanket, hoping to use it to cover yourself while you tried to find your clothes.

However the hand on your elbow stopped you. Boil looked at you softly in the dim light, hand gliding down until his fingers entwined with yours. “Stay. Sleep here tonight. With me” he asked, and you could hear the vulnerability in his voice, all the things he wanted to say but couldn’t quite yet.

Feeling your heart clench at his words, you wanted nothing more than to wrap him in your arms and promise that you would stay. For however long he wanted you to. But you couldn’t. Not yet. But you could stay with him tonight, sleep in the barracks with him and share this intimate moment with him where you could both just be vulnerable together.

“I’d love to.”

#star wars #clone trooper boil #boil x reader #star wars the clone wars #star wars x reader #star wars tcw #sw tcw #tcw #the clone wars #clone wars #kinktober 2024

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blue-thief · 3 months ago

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a god? if only i was.

you meant so well // hypnosis mic // the war of vaslav nijinsky // they don't know anything // i no longer wish to be remembered for my battles or my blood // the greatest lovers in hell // no longer human // icarus // he saved me first, you know // wolf hall

[image descriptions:

1. "war is a slippery slope/what would you do?/becomes/what will you do?/becomes/my god, what have you done?"

2. from the hypnosis mic manga: jinguji jakurai from the back. his gloved hands are behind his back, and he's holding a pair of medical scissors.

3. God said:/GOD MADE YOU. GOD DOES NOT CARE IF YOU ARE GUILTY OR NOT./I said:/I CARE IF I AM GUILTY!/I CARE IF I AM GUILTY!. . ./God was silent./Everything was SILENT./I lay back down in the snow.

4. jakurai, covered in sweat, with his hands held up to his chest and looking up at the dark sky. he has an anguished expression on his face.

5. "You didn't ask for help," He said./How could I?/How could I?/How could I?"

6. a set of panels from the hypnosis mic manga. the first panel is jakurai with a shocked express on his face. the second one is a close up on his hands. he is squeezing his hands, and they're shaking. the same panel shows amaguni hitoya walking away, as well as jakurai bowing his head and gritting his teeth. the next panel is of jakurai opening up his hands. the last panel is of jakurai's back, standing alone.

7. "i have ended/wars singlehandedly,/brought gods broken to their knees,/dragged the very lights of heaven/down to the sand,/but my greatest victory was always that/i was what sparked your smiles."

8. a set of panels from the hypnosis mic manga. the first one is jinguji jakurai and amemura ramuda on a set of swings. jakurai's swing is stationary, and he's fondly looking up at ramuda who is mid-swing and smiling. the second and third panels are close-ups of jakurai and ramuda's smiling faces.

9. jakurai and ramuda facing each other and holding each other's hands. jakurai has a serious expression while ramuda has his eyes closed and is beaming.

10. "You love him despite the burden of Atlas/resting on his shoulders,/and he loves you despite the death still clinging to your lips,/and the blood drying at its corners./What a pair you make."

11. "God, I ask you. Is trustfulness a sin?"

12. a set of three panels. The first is a closeup of ramuda's eyes. the second one is his eyes turning dark with a hint of a smirk visible. the last one is jakurai with a grim expression on his face.

13. kannabi yotsutsuji unconscious in a hospital bed. jakurai looks down at him, shocked.

14. "What have I done?/I tried to play God and I paid with my son"

15. a set of panels from the hypnosis mic manga. the first one shows jakurai's hand, and he's holding a pen. the second panel is a closeup of his face. he is wearing a neutral expression. the third panel is a flashback to ramuda, frustrated and angry, in the rain. the last panel closes in on jakurai's eyes, and he appears contemplative.

16. "I defy the stars;/I defy Heaven and Hell./The laws of the universe say that the man I love is lost to me./I say:/Watch me save him."

17. a screenshot from the hypnosis mic anime. jakurai says, "It means that I will save you, no matter what."

18. "I have never understood where the line is drawn, between sacrifice and self-slaughter."

19. another screenshot from the hypnosis mic anime. the true hypnosis mic is lying inside a briefcase. /end ID]

#I AM ABNORMAL ABOUT THIS GUY 🗣️🗣️#hypnosis mic #hypmic #jinguji jakurai #jakurai jinguji #ramujaku #jakuramu #web weave #long post

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bnuuwitch · 1 month ago

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Little Selkie, Little Star

It had been so long since her skin had been stolen from her that she had almost forgotten about it.

Her birth had been a strange thing. Another star, wrought from the cold fires of the inexplicable heavens that tore apart the sky and brought about this ceaseless conflict. Another little light, either to fight or to be snuffed out as soon as her trembling legs - raw, delicate, shimmering with endless possibility - had learned to move, to shuffle herself around.

And just as she had begun to crawl and tremble like a newborn animal, she felt… something. Something so primal, so fundamentally wrong. No, this could not be right, this desire for… what was it she desired? A different place, a different state of being?

What did it mean to desire? She was but a star, not a particularly powerful one at that. She had not a name nor did she understand what it meant to dream, to desire. Just another light, trembling. Weak.

She felt another light near her. A similar one, a sister light. Blue. Larger, brighter. Lightning crackling at the tip of her great spear, her grand wings curling over the little starling and shielding her from harm.

What harm, the little star wondered. She was not near the enemy, though the gruesome battle raged around her as her sisters had their very essence ripped from them. As their light was torn from every fibre of their delicate being as the darkness - feral, cutting and burning and ripping them to shreds - overcame them, became them. The darkness, despised, became new sisters.

The war waged on, no end in sight.

And just as the little star felt something touch her skin, cold and comforting, she heard a whisper in her ear.

“I’m sorry, little sister.”

Words. Understanding, somewhat. The little star did not know what those words meant. She could not speak, for she hardly knew what words were. She wanted to know.

And just as quickly as the little star began to know curiosity for the first time, she began to know fear as something was torn away from her. Something so soft, so soothing, so intrinsic to her being that she could not understand it. Those primal urges that she had pushed aside returned in full force. She squirmed before she stilled, crumbling to already weak knees as her older sister - an angel, surely - flew off holding something she knew was hers.

“Hey, Edda! Look what I found!”

The Angel had been familiar. Of course she was. As if all of a sudden, those memories before the flash, before the Initial Bond, had flooded back to Edda upon seeing that… thing. The thing she knew was hers. The thing that she knew made her… different. Surely, she had to be in order to be so fundamentally… wrong. Absorbing her own sisters, the enemy. Unchanging, powerful. Still the little starling she was from the moment she was born.

But… not the same, was she? No, something had been stolen from her, and now, Aven - warm, ferocious, tenacious. A contradiction in himself for how could something born of that wretched darkness be anything but all-consuming? A giving, gentle companion, rather than a selfish wretch - had found it on the hands of the Angel they had slay.

A slip of softness, just enough to wrap snuggly around Edda’s shoulders.

Primal. Instinct. Fear, and contradiction. It was all Edda could comprehend as she approached the body of water that she would usually sprint over without a second thought, now shaking in what she now understood to be fear.

The water. It wasn’t used to scare her, did it? No, no. It had been that urge, the source of her plight, but she was young. How innocent she had been, a little starling who knew not words nor feelings nor sensations. Nothing at all.

Edda approached. One step, two steps, three. She felt like a newborn star again, trembling on weak legs and shaking like a leaf in a tree. Space seemed to warp into nothing, and the air grew heavy as Edda struggled to stand even next to the lake.

A familiar hand on her shoulder snatched Edda from her stupor, and she stumbled back, dropping the… pelt. Yes, that’s what it was. Aven was quick to cradle her now-trembling form, her light flickering between a dim, deep blue and blinding whites. He hummed to her, and Edda’s light began to settle into stillness again.

She grabbed the pelt and clasped it around her shoulders. Another time, perhaps.

@octahedral-chaos @indiestsnake

haven't written in like half a year, hope this is up to par

#certified bnuu moment #worldless #worldless game #worldless edda #worldless aven #writing

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metamorphesque · 3 months ago

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imo i don't think we live in a time without true artists, i think that the way a true artist is able to express themselves in a meaningful way has changed dramatically.

and that it quite often overlaps with entertainment.

we're no longer in a world where we as a race have the time or the means to luxuriate on art like the long-ago past, or even as recently as 100 years ago. our mozarts, our bacchiaccas, our platos, our bashos, our michaelangelos, our vivaldis, our sapphos - they are out there right now, but they aren't going to be recognized the way we're used to.

the vast majority of those the world reveres are true artists come from times when the global population was in the millions, not billions. a radical voice will easily stand out in a village of hundreds or thousands. a radical idea will catch on in a small community. once upon a time, these people were legitimate threats to those in power because it wasn't all too difficult to tip the scales of power.

even the artists of the more modern world, within the last century, are from a very distinct *before* time. before globalization, before the population skyrocketed at rates never recorded in human history, before digitization was integrated into every tiny aspect of our lives, before we discovered the means to destroy ourselves a hundred times over and then some, before the heavens and stars were a tangible destination, before american branded capitalism ruled the world, before everything was immediate and always on, before every second of every day belonged to everyone except you.

literacy and attention spans are in a nosedive, the world is on a perpetual edge of plunging into another global war, and we are at every hour of the day and night blasted with the worst news - and every day is more horrible than the next. we're living through catastrophes that, in ancient days, would have signaled the end of the world because a handful of horrible unfathomably wealthy individuals are killing the planet. we are not lacking true artists by any means, but we're lacking ways for their work to make waves in the kind of world we live in today, which is so extremely hostile to the artist but even more hostile to the people meant to perceive them. about one of the only surefire ways will be through some form of entertainment, as that's about the only thing that capture's humanity's attention and will be seen and heard and absorbed, will be archived and studied.

it's going to take a lot more scrutiny than before to find them, but they are out there right now. i promise you. they may not even be recognized til after their deaths, but their mark will be left and felt. i've seen it, i've heard it, i've felt it. they're among us, all over the world. never stop looking for them.

Before anything else, I want to thank you for engaging with my previous answer. I have to say I love conversations like this — they’re truly engaging and stimulating! I also want to express my admiration for the ways you phrased your thoughts; your "ask" was a real pleasure to read.

Now, to the point: while I agree with much of what you’ve said — particularly about the state of the world and the fact that true artists do still exist, even if they’re harder to find — there are two key points where our opinions diverge.

You mention that [we are not lacking true artists by any means, but we're lacking ways for their work to make waves in the kind of world we live in today, which is so extremely hostile to the artist but even more hostile to the people meant to perceive them. about one of the only surefire ways will be through some form of entertainment, as that's about the only thing that capture's humanity's attention and will be seen and heard and absorbed, will be archived and studied.]

Let's follow the logic that in order to be perceived by society nowadays, art must be, in one way or another, diluted or transformed to align with society’s decreasing attention span or capacity for introspection. Doesn't it sound like "a quiet drift away from True Art" or "a fade into the shadows of entertainment"? Let's add arbitrary numbers to make everything more tangible. If we allow art to be diluted by 25% to fit within the entertainment industry's framework, what will happen if in future audience engagement continues to decline? Will art need to simplify itself to 50% or 75%? At what point does it cease to be considered art altogether? If art continues to compromise to meet audience expectations and preferences, we risk erasing its ability to change and transform altogether. By conforming to lower expectations, we’re not just diluting art — we’re also diluting the potential for critical thinking, intellectual growth, emotional depth and personal introspection. The danger in following this path is that we make art indistinguishable from entertainment, stripping it of the very qualities that give it meaning. It will be a descent, through artistic mediocracy, to artlessness.

Another issue I have with the argument that art can only make waves through entertainment is that it shifts the responsibility away from the people who engage with the said art. Great art has never been a passive experience. It has always required effort from its audience — as it should. To say that art must be entertaining in order to capture attention or be archived is to suggest that people are incapable of rising to the challenge that true art presents. It’s a way of excusing people from engaging with complex or challenging ideas. But true art thrives on this complexity. It’s not meant to spoon-feed us palatable truths, not in a world like this. It’s meant to demand something from us — our attention, our introspection, our willingness to be uncomfortable. By framing art as something that needs to conform to entertainment, we are letting the public off the hook. Art should demand more from its audience, and the audience should demand more from themselves.

#asks #thank you!#this is exactly how I'd like to spend my Saturday 1AMs #art #entertainment #literature

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iouinotes · 8 months ago

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Heroic love (part 4) | Luke Castellan

pairing: Luke Castellan x female!reader

show: Percy Jackson and the Olympians

warnings: betrayal, dark romance, no verbal consent, angst, smut MINORS DONT INTERACTE

summary: Luke finds out your plan and you give in. After all, it is better to be with him than with the monsters that suround you.

authors note: The reader joins Luke rather unwillingly, even though she still loves him. I just want to say up front that Luke's threat at the end is not meant serious. He would never do something like that to her. He only does it so that she realizes that there is no other way than to join him. If it's too dark, I'm sorry... @qwertydddddddddd wanted to be tagged, so I hope you enjoy it <33

Sometimes you think to yourself, this is real love. I'm gonna marry this person. I will spend my life with them, building a home and a family.

Well thats the regular scenario, I mean for the people who are regular. Not demigods.

And you see, even though we dont have an easy life, fighting monsters, losing friends, being scared and anxious all the time, that some bad evil guy suddenly wants to rule the world- we live. Because we have to and because we have each other.

So, for me, I was prepared for it to become harsh. I always knew my life would be like sitting on a rollercoaster, never having the chance to exit.

But I found comfort in this reality. I would imagine being on this attraction, but holding onto something that grounds me. Someone that gives me strengh, so I don't lose myself.

For a long time, I held hands with Luke.

Then of course, something did go terrible wrong, as if they goddess Aphrodite wanted to watch an exciting, action packed romance movie, with the plot twist of I-hate-to-love-you-because-you-left-me trope. Something like this.

Well, I think the movie sucks. In the last months, everything was just not right- Luke leaving camp to join Kronos? Betraying everyone and kidnapping me? Showing up here, messing with me and then holding my own dagger to my throat? (Deja vu)

No, that just isnt what I Imagined to happen in the future. I didnt want my boyfriend to turn into the bad guy, who we swore to fight.

But now I guess, thats up to me. At least some part of it.

"I think Luke ist turning into Darth Vader." Sometimes I'm not sure whats going on in Percys head.

"I never heard of this monster?" Annabeths parents are so wrong for not watching Star Wars with her.

"Guys, after we discussed this, you can have your movie night. But please, let's focus." My voice sounds harsher than I intended, so I immediately feel bad about it.

"Sorry, it's just very complicated. I want to know what our next steps are, what we are planning to do with this- situation." I don't know how else to call it.

"We need information. Who is the spy? What are Kronos plans? Where will he attack? Who joined him? So many unanwered questions." Chirons voice sends a shiver down my neck. He's right, but how do we achieve it?

Percys gaze unnerves me and when I turn my head to meet his eyes, he immediately shakes his head.

"I am not letting you alone with him this time. Nope." I sign, conflicted how I would want to deal with this.

All eyes are on me and when I turn to them, I try to explain my plan. But I cant even finish my second sentence and already everyone seems to be against it.

"We cant let him out!"

"He will kill us!"

"His army is already searching for him, he would escape!"

Annabeth raises her hand and the voices calm down. As she looks at me, I sense her own doubts about the situation.

"They are right. How do you know he would trust you? Could you convince him?"

I nod my head, ignoring my doubts.

"I can."

⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️

The moon shines beautifully in the sky, but it helps nothing to calm down my nerves. Im so stupid, why did I thought I could pull this off?

"Youre sure, you want to do this? You dont have to." Percy's standing next me, as always trying to comfort me.

"He will believe me. I always had dreams, where I thought he-" I need a moment to finish my sentence.

"-died. That he got hurt or is in pain. When I had this sort of dream, I would always sneak out of my cabin and came to him. I would walk into his cabin and he somehow always knew what happend. He would tuck me in his bed, letting me cry and cuddling me. Resurring me that everything is going to be okay, that he will live. That was always my biggest fear, that he would die and I would be helpless to do anything against it. He knows that."

We stand in silence for a moment.

"If you need me, I will be there. Just be careful." I smile at him.

I take a deep breath and go trough the doors, seeing that the only light he has, is a small lamp on the ceiling. I quicken my pace so he can hear me coming. When I stand in front of his cell, he is already on his feet. He looks alarmed.

"What-" his t-shirt is wrinkled and his eyes are sleepy. My breath catches and I don't even have to pretend to be confused and afraid, standing in front of him alone in the dark is enough.

The bars are the only thing that separates us.

At first I don't say anything, I just look at him with watery eyes. And just like I said, he knows it. He always knows.

"Another nightmare?" His voice is so gentle, it makes me remember the old days when everything was good. When he took me in his arms and wiped the tears from my cheeks.

I just nod, I don't think my voice is stable enough yet.

I have to play the role, I can do it. He has to believe me.

I slide down the wall and put my head in my hands, all the despair and pain I've been carrying for weeks suddenly coming out of me. I'm crying so hard that I'm almost afraid of waking up the others.

"Shit, princess- what can I do? Let me help, please." He sounds so desperate and it's only now that I realize, that I don't actually have to act. Because my tears are real.

"Y-you ruined everything! And I'm still s-so scared that something h-happens to you" I meet his gaze and see the remorse in his eyes. His heart hurts too.

"I didn't want something like that to happen- please, darling. Come here." Sniffling, I stand up. My knees feeling weak and unsteady. If I go in there now, I won't be able to defend myself properly.

“You hurt me, I shouldn’t even be here. You're an idiot, Luke. I hate-" but I can't bring myself to say it. I cant say that I hate him. Because I don't, at least not yet.

"I know, believe me. I hate myself too. Only your belief in me has always held me together." He grips the bars, I see the inner conflict within him.

"But you won't change. You've never been able to do that well." I know I'm right and he knows it too. Silence surrounds us.

"Let me hold you. Just for- a few minutes. Please. I can't stand seeing you like this. You've always been the sunshine in my life. I don't want my sun to be obscured."

The key jingles in my hand and I look at it uncertainly.

"I won't hurt you, never again, I promise. I also got an anklet. I can't escape." His eyes look so honest. I'm feeling nervous, my heart is beating way too fast.

I put the key in the lock and open the door, freezing in my movements for a moment. What am I doing here? But then I hear his voice and I know why.

“It’s not that comfortable on the floor, but you can sit on my lap." I close the door.

As I move towards him I see how thin he has become and how brown his eyes still are.

Slowly, he raises his hands and when I stand in front of him he puts them around my waist. My knees buckle and I sink carefully onto his lap. My hands rest uncertainly on his shoulders, then moving down to his neck. Playing with the strands of his hair, lost in thoughts.

His face is right in front of mine, both of our breaths are uneven. His hands linger on me, holding me tight to him. Warmth fills my chest as I look into his eyes.

"You're so beautiful. So, so beautiful." A sob tries to escape me, as I do something, I always loved. I put my head in the crook of his neck and wrap my arms around him.

He holds me for a few minutes, stroking my back and whispering soothing, sweet nothings in my ear.

Once I've calmed down, I'm basically lying on top of him and can hear his heartbeat. It's almost soporific.

"Luke?" my voice is calm.

His head turns to me. "Yes?"

"I...I want to be with you. I don't care how or- or where. I just know that I can't live without you." I see his eyebrows furrow.

"You dont mean-" I am silent. Just looking at him, sitting up a little, straddling him.

"I need you. I tried not to need you. But it's out of my control, nothing helps to ease the pain. Only you, only you matter."

Is it the truth if the words escape me so easily?

His hand finds my cheek and I lean into his touch.

"We're the only ones that matter. We will get through this, together and united. You don't have to fight my darling, you just have to be by my side." His hand around my waist pulls me towards him, the other one, he continues to lay on my cheek. Caressing the skin, drawing invisible heart-shapes.

Then his lips meet mine and my eyes flutter shut. The kiss so intoxicating, that I forget for a moment my real intention. Forget why I'm participating in this madness.

As he pulls away from me, I hear his whispering voice.

"You won't betray me, right? You won't do that to me?" He tugs on my hair, ever so slightly, to get my attention.

"No, Luke. I won't." Lie.

The key in my hand is no longer idle as I remove his shackles carefully.

"Then princess, let's get out of here." I slowly get off his lap, but before I stand up, he lifts me up in his arms.

"I promise you that I will never hurt you again. You deserve only the best." As cliche as it is, he carries me out of the cell, which isnt locked anymore.

He lets me down outside and breathes in the fresh air. It's still night, maybe 4 a.m. Everything is quiet.

His hands cup my face and place several kisses on my skin.

"You are incredible, I knew you would join me. For real this time." He takes my hand and intertwines our fingers. I don't see Percy anywhere.

"Let's go. I know where my troops are stationed. Nobody will notice that we're gone until it's too late."

⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️

Joining Kronos' army was the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life, and that includes keeping the truth from Luke.

That I'm a spy for the camp, better hidden than anyone else ever could. No one would accuse or suspect the leader's girlfriend, because everyone can see how much I love him.

After all, it's the only reason I'm tolerated here. Because Luke would kill anyone who even came near me. He has already done it to a dragon lady who was too pushy and even when I tried to stop him, he showed no mercy.

Because he can't afford to do that, if he shows that he has a heart, it will be taken away from him.

Every day it is torture to witness this evil, to help maintain cover, to save my friends.

And every day I feel worse, because I lie to Luke. But it is the only way. I cannot help in the camp, if my heart is somewhere else. Here, with him, my thoughts are not always here, but my heart is.

At least it's enough for me to function. When Luke isn't distracting me.

When I wake up that morning on the Princess Andromeda, it is still quiet. In the presence of these monsters, I have not been able to sleep well for months. Even the dreams I have, make me wake up in the middle of the night and the only thing that calms me down is Luke's touch.

His fingers gently stroke my exposed skin, and as I turn my head and look at him, I see an emotion in his eyes, I've only recently noticed. There is a desire in his gaze, as if he wanted to consume my entire being, to have me just for himself.

My voice, my body, my thoughts, my feelings. Simply everything. He wants it all to be his.

"I wish I could erase every bad dream you have and send whoever is responsible for it to burn in hell. It should scare me that you make me think like that, but if I'm honest, it doesn't. Are you scared?" His eyes look into mine.

Slowly, my fingers intertwine with his. "Not when you're with me."

The next thing I notice is his lips on mine. The way his hands grip my hips and pull me onto him.

He leans towards me, his lips caress my ears and I hear his whispering voice. "Every day I hear one my followers talking about you. That they want to have you, to decorate your beautiful body with scars, with their initials." I freeze at his words, wanting to pull away and look at him, but he holds me tight. Makes me continue to listen to his voice.

"They want to see you bleed, to alternate between pain and pleasure when they push their cocks into you. Do you like that? That you are so desired? That you turn everyone's heads, when you go by and they start wanting to see my head roll? To get close to you, huh?" I want to shake my own head, but he holds me even tighter.

"Do you know how hard it is not to execute every single one of them? Do you know that? I would, if I could. I would kill every single one of them, in front of you, so that everyone knows that you belong to me. Do you understand? No one will speak to you anymore, because your voice is mine. No one will look at you, because your sight is mine. You keep your hands to yourself, no more help with injuries, I don't care if they die. Your hands only touch me."

As I start to sqirm, he leans back, keeping his hands on my hips until a finger strokes my cheek.

"No one will ever kiss you except me. And anyone who even thinks about fucking you, I will let die in battle. You may think my loyalty is to Kronos, but it is to you. My beautiful girl. Now think carefully about who you are pledging your loyalty to."

When his eyes look into mine, I fall silent. Then, even though I try not to, my voice trembles.

"What do you mean? I'm loyal to you, Luke."

His hands caress my skin, examining how the sun shines on me. I'm only wearing one of his T-shirts and my panties. His hands, stroke my bare thighs.

His eyebrows rise, slowly his fingers wrap around my panties, pulling them down until I am revealed to him. My heart is pounding so loudly in my chest, that it feels like it's about to give up. I hold my breath as he places the tip of his cock at my entrance.

What am I doing here?

"I think you're not being completely honest with me, princess. Let's try again. Who are you loyal to?" As he slowly enters me and his hands hold my hips, I moan. I lay my head back for a moment and enjoy the stretch, feeling his hands slide under my shirt and stroke over my stomach, to my breasts and to my neck.

"Luke, what's going on? I'm here with you, I'm-" But I can't finish my sentence as he plunges into me with a violent jerk, right up to the edge. My eyes roll back.

"These sweet lies that come from your lips. Of course you are here physically, but with the mind? Oh no, while I fuck you, your thoughts are on Camp Halfblood. On Jackson. Can you believe it?" His hands push my hips down until I am connected directly to him and can feel every inch inside me. I almost melt as one of his hands presses into my lower back and I move even closer to him.

When I try to answer him, my voice is a mixture of horror and pleasure. "Luke, that's not true. I only want you, I'm on your side- ahh-" Faster than I can react, he thrusts into me. Once, twice. So hard and ruthless that he hits the spot inside me, that makes me see stars. I can't concentrate.

"How I wish you would tell the truth. There's nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart. Admit it, I already know. My girlfriend is the traitor. Behind my back, she talks to the person I hate the most and yet, she sits on my lap and rides my cock. What would Percy say about that?"

His hand wraps around my neck and holds me tight, his hips keep pounding into me and even though my brain tells me to stop, my guard is down. I want this.

"How-" But when I want to ask, he pushes me onto him again. So fast, too hard, it almost hurts, but it also feels so good.

"I have my eyes everywhere. It took me a while to figure out how to deal with it, how to deal with you. But I found a good solution. After all, Percy lets you be here, without cover, without protection. Hoping I wouldn't find out that you were passing on information. That I wouldn't hurt you."

His last sentence makes me tense up, but even though his face twists in amusement for a brief moment, he doesn't stop talking.

"Your pussy won't save you either. And since I have given you my word, I will not harm you. I found a better punishment. A choice."

He suddenly stops moving and I almost cry, wanting to move myself, but he takes my face in his hand, tightly. Focusing all attention on him.

"Either you stop your underhanded loyalty to Jackson immediately and serve me, or I will make the wishes of everyone behind this door come true and you will be used like a beautiful, little doll. From each one of them, I assure you. But after that, you won't be so beautiful anymore."

Tears well up my eyes, whether it's from the tight grip he's holding on me or from his words, I can't tell. And I'm scared, it feels like I'm being buried alive. With no prospect of ever being able to breathe or be free again.

Without me saying anything, he starts moving inside me again, letting my hips sink onto his. I breathe in loudly.

"Come on, move. Your choice. It's either my cock or anyone else's."

When I look at him, the person I once loved has disappeared. It's like looking at a stranger.

My heart feels like it's been stolen and in the back of my mind I realize, that I should have never gone with him.

But then I close my eyes, put my hands on his shoulders for support and sink down onto him. Again and again, even stronger. Until my thighs shake and tears run down my cheeks. Until I hear Luke's quiet voice again.

"If you think you are strong enough to be like me, treacherous, cold-hearted and ruthless, then I have to disappoint you. Your heart will be soft forever unless the world hardens it. I will protect you for that, princess. Forget camp halfblood, you only serve me now."

His lips are hot on my skin, a strong contrast to my heart, which feels like it's made of ice.

And when I receive the next secret sign from Annabeth a few days later, I ignore it.

#luke castellan #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy series #percy pjo #camp half blood #x reader #smut #fanfic #betrayal #angst #bad ending

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miralines · 3 months ago

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I do not have the time or bandwidth to write a proper fic of this and there’s only like a 25% chance I ever will, but I keep thinking about a Cinderrose arranged marriage au and am finally posting about it for @mechtober-2024!

I’m thinking it happens as like. Part of a peace deal to end the war between Perrault and Cole’s empire. Cinders volunteers herself to make a marriage alliance in exchange for Perrault retaining more autonomy and freedom than they do in the canon timeline when they lose the war entirely. It’s her idea, a last-ditch effort to save her people, and her father finally agrees to allow it when it’s clear it’s their last chance.

The negotiations are made and Cinders is set to marry Rose Prince, a rising star in Cole’s army and the second daughter of His most noble family. From Rose’s end, this looks like Cole calling her to a meeting and informing her of this new honor. Rose isn’t thrilled with the idea, not least because of all the politics involved, but she’s nothing if not obedient to him. She knows her duty and has never refused his will before, and she won’t start now. So even as she complains to Snow, she agrees to marry the foreign princess.

Cinders is brought to Zantine to move into a guest suite of the Prince family estate, where she’ll live until the wedding in a few months’ time (it takes a while to prepare a celebration befitting the occasion). She’s an anxious wreck– away from home for the first time, stuck in the heart of her enemy’s power, and if she can’t follow through perfectly on this deal her father and all her people will pay the price. At least she’s away from her stepfamily.

The first time she and Rose meet in person is awkward. Rose is determined to be a gentleman about the whole thing, but she doesn’t know this woman or how she’s meant to interact with her in this context. Cinders is approaching it with gritted teeth and a barely-hidden air of self-sacrifice. They make small talk, try to get to know each other.

Both of them are pleasantly surprised by the other. Rose, despite being a tool in Cole’s hands to violently enforce His will, is respectful to Cinders, honest and gentle, and, in a turn of events Cinders has very mixed feelings about, the kind of woman who is exactly her type. Rose appreciates Cinders’ love for her people and her courage in coming here, and is intrigued by the hints of her true personality she lets through under the diplomatic mask. They both have a strong sense of duty and justice, even if it’s to opposite causes, and both have an appreciation for space– Cinders because of her enchantment with the stars and Rose through her hobby of driving and racing ships.

Right off the bat, Rose makes clear that they don’t have to be married in anything but name if Cinders doesn’t want it. They’ll be expected to live together, but Rose won’t touch Cinders without her consent. They quickly establish that they’re on the same page with their union being a business transaction, political theater. They’ll do what they must and try to stand each other in the meantime.

Cinders is still deeply unsure of Rose as a person, especially as she learns more about her career and the atrocities she’s committed in Cole’s name. And Rose remains privately a bit bitter about being pulled into a political scheme. But they get along well enough when they put the issue of the Empire aside (and they have to, both for personal and political reasons. Cinders is marrying into the Empire, and if they want this marriage to work in any way they can’t fight constantly). Rose takes Cinders on day trips in her personal spaceship, and Cinders shares music with Rose. They get closer.

I don’t think they would fall in love by the wedding– I picture this as a slow burn. Before they can fully enter a romantic relationship, Rose needs to learn that the cause she fights for and the tactics she uses aren’t as noble as she thinks, and Cinders needs to figure out how to live with Rose’s past acts and her position in the Empire. They’d need to compromise a great deal. But eventually, of course, they realize they do love each other and become romantic partners as well as wives.

I don’t know what happens next– their relationship would be a bit strained as long as they’re under Cole’s thumb. They also both have a lot of trauma to work through— Cinders from the war and her stepmother’s abuse, and Rose from the army. Rose would have to kick her rapidly-forming dependence on alcohol.

Perhaps Rose quits the army in this AU and Cinders works with Snow in parliament to secretly work against the worst of Cole’s power. Perhaps Cinders and Rose eventually run away together. Whatever happens I think would be delicious– there’s so much you can do with them in this context.

In conclusion. Cinderrose arranged marriage au my beloved <3

#this heavily relies on my own worldbuilding and characterization btw #It’s 1003!cinderrose in another universe #mechtober 2024 #the mechanisms #the mechs #ouatis #once upon a time in space #cinders ouatis #rose ouatis #cinderrose

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iamnmbr3 · 1 month ago

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Hold on, are you still doing the ship number ask thing?

If yes, may I request Harry Potter/Lucius Malfoy. - 6, 8, 19?

- @arcturus-night-star

This one? Yes. (If you meant a different ask game from longer ago I'll still answer just let me know which one you want).

6) Who gets drunk the quickest?

Me from imaging the drama disaster garbage fire that this ship would be! Lucius. He can't stand the idea that Harry can out-drink him and keeps stupidly trying to prove that facts aren't facts, each time expecting a different result. It's not that Lucius is a lightweight. It's just that Harry is, well...Harry. He's scary powerful and the rules of the universe bend around him just a bit. He carries himself with such humility though that it invites the arrogant and foolish (aka Lucius) to repeatedly try their luck and end up humiliated (and with a bad headache).

I'm kind of imagining a post war AU with slightly darkish, dissafected Harry and very down on his luck but at least not in Azkaban (or not in Azkaban ANYMORE) Lucius so I feel like this question of who can drink the most gets asked and answered repeatedly.

8) Who insists their way is better even though it’s objectively the worst way?

Lucius. See above. Harry also insists his way is better; it's just he's right more often. I don't think he really pays much attention to Lucius's insistences. He knows - they both know really - that the words are empty; they're just all that Lucius has left.

19) Who uses emoticons?

Realistically neither. But if it did happen it would be Harry specifically to annoy Lucius who has no clue what they are and hates them. He draws them onto parchment and everything. (Actually he only learned about them recently from Hermione, but Lucius doesn't have to know that).

Send me a ship and a number

@arcturus-night-star

#Harry Potter/Lucius Malfoy #ask game #asks #Lucius malfoy #Harry Potter

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cupidsdescendant · 1 year ago

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"Teufelstanz" Medic X Y/N (SMUT)

He waltzed alone, his feet slowly glided on the smooth marble of the medbay. The muffled sound of Al Bowlly's "Midnight The Stars And You" played from the outside but inside it was like a ballroom, and Medic was the star of it. As an old man, reminiscing his younger days when he was still in school filled him with sweet melancholy. Medic had needed a break from such an exhausting day, taking care of the mercenaries had sucked all the life out of him. Having this moment for himself meant the world. Piles of dusty vinyls were piled on top of his paperwork, and a huge record player sat on his office chair. Young Medic was an outcast. He didn't have many friends or lovers despite how handsome he was, he kept to himself and found comfort in isolation in a world of war and destruction. Medic let his fingertips dance with the piano in the background and followed along. He kept his eyes shut, he knew where he was going. His mind slowly wandered from being in the cold room to back at his school's prom, everyone stared and awed at his movement, how slow and delicate they were. With years of bullying everyone believed he was a sporadic freak but that night everyone was proven very, very wrong. He owned that dance floor for those last hours and had everyone starstruck with the talent he possessed.

And there he was, at the climax of his dance, the ending that would bring a raging encore- a small knock interrupted. "Who IS it?" He opened his eyes quickly and straightened his back. His fists tightened into a frustrated ball as he tilted his head to the silent door. "Hey, Doc" Y/N's sweet voice responded with, "You told me that I had a checkup?" Medic's eyes widened and his mouth turned into an irritated frown. He looked over to the clock showing that the hours had passed and it is, indeed time for Y/N's checkup. "I know it's late but, I mean that's when you told me to come. It's totally fine if you can't have me right now, I can wait tomorrow-"

"You can come in, Y/N" Medic said endearingly. Without the knowledge of Y/N he was rolling his eyes agitatedly.

"Relax jour knee." Medic kneeled one leg down and kept his other up. He slouched over with an arthroscope to your exposed legs. He tapped your knee with the arthroscope twice and grabbed his clipboard, writing his results down. "How long have we been doing this?" Y/N said as she fiddled her thumbs together. "About 15 minutes." "And when do you think it'll end?" Medic gave a slightly annoyed glare to the chatty girl. "When jou stop talking." His shoulder twitched as if he was brushing something off and walked away from Y/N to the operating table. He took out a sheet and laid it down, smoothing it out and opening a bag of new, clean utensils. Y/N stared around quietly, slightly embarrassed at his response. Her eyes landed on his cramped desk filled with his vinyls and other papers. She smiled a little "Someone had a dance party." she added a small chuckle to her witty remark. "Nein." He replied, trying to give as little emotion as possible. "Well you sure were dancing for a while" Medic shot his head back to find Y/N standing up, running her hands through the vinyls and shuffling through the covers "You have great taste, Mr.Ludwig." She cocked her head back to see a tense Medic. His shoulders raised and his hands less relaxed than they were before. His face reddened, red as his gloves and looked away. "Zhat's...Medic to you, and Danke schön. "AI Bowlly's work is...beautiful" Y/N pulled up his "Sweet As a Song" album. "His song crafting is immaculate. ...I didn't know jou had such a keen eye-" He said adjusting his glasses and letting the glare slightly hit off. The air was silent for a minute but then, Y/N broke it with a soft hum. She continues it and followed along with singing the lyrics to Blue Hawaii.

"Dreams come true in Blue Hawaii,"

"And mine could all come true this magic night of nights with you"

Her singing wasn't the most beautiful in the world but she didn't sound bad. A little flat, but she was human. The authenticity of it all made up for it. Medic looked over to Y/N's back and his lips parted, eager to yell and scream how excited he was to find another person that loved the same artist as him but he let her continue, staying silent. She could feel him looking at her. She could feel him in awe. She opened her mouth but before she could speak Medic's voice had sung back in response. "Come with me while the moon is on the sea" Medic's boots followed from behind, the clomping of them alerting Y/N that the man was about to be inches away from her. Y/N's heart sunk in anticipation and she laid the vinyl back onto the desk. She looked down to her feet and held her hands together, her lips parting once she couldn't hear his boots. Y/N let Medic sing, "The night is young and so are we" he cooed, a tiny ring echoed in her ears indicating that he was right behind her. "So are we...." Y/N she sang back. She felt her cheeks become hot, unbearably hot when she felt the man's hand brush up against her. He rested it on the table and Y/N held her breath for a second before taking a deep breath in, realizing her anxiety. "And mine could all come true," "this magic night of nights with you" They caroled together, and a loud snort broke the intimacy. Y/N roared in laughter and looked back to a flushed Medic, her face full of joy. "My god!" She yipped out. "That was absolutely, positively angelic, Mr.Ludwig!" She gripped the straps of his shirt and pushed him closer to her face. She looked longingly into his eyes and grinned "You sure did give it your all, did you?" Medic's face, still extremely flushed let out a chuckle. His lips quivered and he readjusted his glasses once again (he does it when he's anxious) "Vell...I guess I did, haha-...Jou was beautiful yourself." He put his hand on Y/N's back and learned in. The both bathed in their eyes and a small grin crept onto Medic's face. "How...how about we finish that checkup, hm?" He pulled her by her hand and a small "Oh!" fell accidentally out of her mouth. Y/N had followed Medic's steps and they both danced their way over to the operating table, with a final spin and the room full of giggles Y/N laid down. "What are you going to do now?" She said cooingly, resting her hand on her chest and looking up at him. Medic took his gloves off and washed his hands thoroughly in the sink. "Well..." he said as he dried his hands off "We must make sure you're internal organs are okay." "What does that mean?" She questioned. He slid a chair to the corner of the table where Y/N's torso lay and he rested his hands on where her lower pelvis. "I must do a pelvic exam. Ve want to make sure jou're healthy under there, no?" He turned his hand into your inner thigh and bit his lip, releasing it and smiling innocently at her. "It won't hurt at all. Now are jou ready?" Y/N's heartbeat sunk and her breath quickened, all of the nerves in her body had a sudden physical rush of heat and she looked deeply into Medic's taunting blue eyes. "Is this...really needed.?" She protested. He let a loud roar of amusement out and sweetly stared at her, "Fräulein, it would be in both of our best interests to know you're in good shape." She stared at him from the operation table as she felt his hands trace her hip bones and her stomach “I promise it won’t hurt.” A smirk was raised from his mouth. “Now could you take your pants off?”

She fumbled her button and unzipped her zipper, from the angle her pants had gotten stuck to her thighs. Medic chuckles and grabbed the denim that covered her ankles. “Here, I can help with that.” Quickly, he pulled them off leaving Y/N flushed, the shock of it coming off so fast and the coldness of the room had left her shaking. Her eyes had shut as she held herself, her hands moving up her forearms and shoulders trying to keep herself warm. She felt a cold finger curl up against her panties, leaving a small gap exposed. Y/N opened her eyes to find medics' index finger, eagerly waiting to slide her panties off. “Do you mind?” He said amorously. She nodded and the undoing of her panties had left her bare and cold. Medic grabbed her knee and pulled it up “It’s okay, Fräulein. There’s no reason to be tense.” But there was. She was soaking at this point. She could feel herself throbbing already, she was limp from her knees down. She was holding herself but her nipples were rock hard. It was embarrassing and perverted knowing how his fingers will enter her but “just for an examination…” so why did she feel this way? "If it'll help you, I suggest taking a deep breath." His eyes were gentle and he seemed remarkably calm. Y/N followed his instructions and on the count of 3 inside her head she took a deep breath, letting the cold air itch her nose. She clenched her body and let out a stunned gasp as his fingers entered her, pushing up against her pelvis and curling inside. "That's it, there we go..." Medic gave out a tiny scoff and his cheeks reddened, his index and middle finger turned to the corner and nudged her a few times, forcing Y/N's grasp to strengthen. "I'm very surprised, Fräulein...you didn't need any lubricant." He extended his thumb and it pinched down onto Y/N's clit. "Doctor-!" She screamed out loud, and she slammed her hand onto Medic's shoulder, arousing the man further and him rubbing his thumb over her clit faster, pulling it gently down and up. His fingers moved back and forth, letting the sounds fill the room and take over. Pushing his thumb and moving her clit up Y/N's shortened breath stopped as she released a built-up tension and came into his hands. She gave out a long-winded whimper, Medic looking at her pooched lips and her heavy eyes. "Hm...seems like you're quite healthy."

He took two fingers and opened her lips, letting her cum pour slowly out of her. "Fräulein...say, have you been having any difficulties with...arousal?" His eyes glanced up in a sort of predator way, ready to pounce on her. "A bi-it" she said, mustering the courage to reply. "Well then...how about we try another test?" He smiled, exposing his sharp teeth. Pushing her legs on top of his shoulders, he grabbed the insides of her thighs and pulled Y/N close into his grasp, leaning in and almost suffocating her with how big he is. His bulge rubbed against her exposed parts and Y/N felt something wet on the side of her neck. She clenched her hands onto Medic's back as she felt his tongue glaze the part of her neck that connects to her shoulders, she was to her breaking point. "are jou ready?" hi everyone ^w^ this was in my drafts for MONTHS. I had a very busy summer so i meant to get it done early but now that i finally finished I'm ready to take on requests :D hope you enjoY!!!

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 headcanons #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 medic #fanfiction #team fortress medic #tf2 medic x reader #medic x reader #team fortress 2 x reader #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you

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david-talks-sw · 2 years ago

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What "The Hidden Fortress" (1958) tells us about the Jedi's status in the Prequels.

In 1999, George Lucas had this to say on BBC Omnibus: A Long Time Ago: The Story of "Star Wars" and then The Phantom Menace's director's commentary.

“I greatly admired Kurosawa, especially the film Hidden Fortress, which told a story from the point of view of two serfs, two slaves...

... peasants who tag along with this famous general and a princess-- y'know, royalty. And the whole story is told from their point of view. And I like that idea. I like the idea of telling a story from the lowest person's point of view, uh, in the food chain, and that's how the story got to be told by Artoo and Threepio.”

“[The Phantom Menace] is told primarily from the Jedi's point of view, but the story that's being told is essentially the story of Queen Amidala and her plight of having her planet blockaded. As in, say, Episode IV, where the story is told through the eyes of the droids, in this one, it's told through the eyes of the Jedi.”

“But [from the moment we get to Coruscant, Anakin and Jar Jar] are standing on the sidelines. It's a little bit a riff on the very first film where the story is told through the point of view of the droids, who were sort of the lowliest characters.”

“And in [Phantom Menace], I'm doing it through - primarily - the two Jedi, but then the secondary characters are also carrying a lot of the weight when the Jedi aren't around.”

George Lucas draws a comparison between lowly characters like Hidden Fortress' peasants Matashichi and Tahei, the droids in A New Hope, as well as the Jedi in The Phantom Menace.

What do they all have in common? They are all the lowest-ranking characters in their respective films. Repeat: the movie frames the Jedi as almost at the bottom of the food chain.

Because of course they are. Functionally, they're just diplomats. They hold no political power whatsoever and barely have any authority .

What little authority the Jedi do have in TPM comes from the Queen's young age, which allows them to ease into a more advisory position, and Qui-Gon's rebellious streak. And even he's explicit about the fact that his mandate has limitations.

The only characters "below" them in status are Jar Jar, an exiled Gungan, and Anakin, who just yesterday was still a slave kid, Artoo the literal object and that's it!

Also the other Prequel films are consistent with this portrayal. Who do we see lower in status than the Jedi? Dexxter Jettster and the clones. Everyone else is pretty much above them.

Yes, the Jedi are part of the system, but they're not as high-ranking as you'd think. Yes, they have Force Powers, but that means squat when put against political power. So, like, to expect the Jedi to...

influence the decisions of the Senate,

wage a war against the Outer Rim to end slavery,

or blatantly refuse an order to join the war effort,

... is incredibly unreasonable.

They're not meant to be seen as "the elite, peering down upon the people from their ivory tower".

They're the servants! Servants of the Republic.

And they're seeing their higher-ups destroy what they should all stand for, but are unable to stop them.

Later on, with The Clone Wars, we are introduced to civilian characters and from their point of view, the Jedi are ultra powerful and are highly placed and "should do more but don't".

It makes sense that these characters would see the Jedi as 'the elite'. But they don't have the full picture.

We, as the audience, do.

So we know that the reality is more along the lines of the Jedi "should do more but can't".

After all, we are made privy many instances of the Jedi speaking up and trying to change politicians' minds, only to be dismissed and overruled at every turn.

↑ these aren't even all the times we see it happen, btw, there's more examples...

So at some point, if you - as an audience member - see all this and are still saying "the Jedi should've done more!" I really need to know... what more could they have done?

Take control of the Senate?

That'll result in a dictatorship, there's a reason they waited as much as they did before trying to take down Palpatine.

Power corrupts and they're wise enough to know it.

Don't join the Republic in the first place?

George Lucas never frames the Jedi's involvement with the Republic as a bad thing. In the foreword to Shatterpoint (2004), he says their being part of the Republic led to 1,000 years of prosperity.

Where's the issue, then? Well, it's a two-man job and the Jedi's bosses, the Senate, grew corrupt and stopped doing their part. They stopped carrying their end of the couch.

But “no Jedi in the Republic from the get-go” means the Sith will rise to power even faster. Fun!

Stay neutral in the war?

The Separatists were killing civilians and testing weapons on neutral systems, or enslaving them.

The choice put before the Jedi was "do what we tell you and fight, or let people die".

But also, out-of-universe... do you really think Palpatine, genius politician, master of spin, can't re-frame the Jedi staying neutral in a negative light?

When they joined the war, he unleashed propaganda that either directly (on the Separatist side) or indirectly (on the Republic side) framed them as "warmongers who corrupted their values". If they don't join, they're "apathetic cowards who care more about their own values than the lives of the people they're supposed to protect".

So either way, Order 66 comes around, wipes them out and the Republic goes "good riddance".

So what else could they do?

The answer is "not much".

Because the whole point of the narrative is that Palpatine checkmated them by taking the fight to a field the Jedi had no experience in or right to meddle with: politics.

So if you look at these characters who are nowhere near the top of the food chain, and say "well, why didn't they fix things?" I'm sorry to say you're missing the point of the narrative.

Or maybe you do get the point of the narrative and just aren't trying to be fair...

... in which case, at least be consistent and also argue:

"Why didn't Threepio & Artoo do more to save the Rebel crew of the Tantive IV from the stormtrooopers?!"

"Why didn't Matashichi & Tahei do more to save the Akizuki clan?!"

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randomfandomdreaming · 2 years ago

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My Reality Shifting Experience

Otherwise known as the post I meant to do after work one day and forgot.

Long post incoming. You've been warned lol

Word Count: 1,601

Please keep in mind that what works for me may not work for someone else. My spirituality, beliefs, and practices come solely from my experiences, and not what I've read on the internet. I did have to do some minor research for this post so that I could put commonly used names to what I do. I also only talk about the Star Wars galaxy as that is the only one I have actively shifted to. I know there are others, but I genuinely can't remember them.

What is "reality shifting"? Reality shifting, as a definition, is the practice of transferring or moving your consciousness to another world/universe/dimension/whatever you wish to call it. It can be fictional or not. This destination is usually referred to as your "desired reality", or DR for short. Your current reality or original reality (CR or OR, respectively) is the one you're probably reading this post from.

Here's where things start to get a little messy, at least for me. I personally put reality shifting under the same umbrella as astral projection and anything similar, as these various methods are just that to me. Different methods and names for the same exact thing: A way to interact with the areas that our universe has allowed us to have. To keep everything simple, I'll refer to these methods as reality shifting.

I've been shifting to the wondrous galaxy found in the Star Wars franchise since I was just eight years old. I first encountered Obi-Wan Kenobi and Mace Windu on the street here on our very own planet mere days after first discovering the franchise. I had only seen one episode, and had only been introduced to Obi-Wan, Anakin Skywalker, and a few other characters. Yet here was a Jedi Master introducing himself as Mace Windu before I had ever even heard of the character. That single episode was my first exposure to the franchise. I didn't even know about Master Yoda yet.

When I first started shifting, I had no control over it. Sometimes I still don't. I genuinely don't know how I do it, as I don't really use any well known methods in order to do it. The first time I ever encountered anything to do with reality shifting was completely by accident, as they found me. But the stronger my connection to the people in that galaxy became, the easier it was to make the connection and shift.

Realities overlapping is quite commonplace. There have been times where the image of Obi-Wan or someone else has quite literally flickered into existence, even including the area just round them, allowing me a glimpse of where they currently are. I've been told the same has also occurred on their end. There were even some times where It wasn't just an image, but the realities literally colliding, allowing us to actually converse as if we weren't in galaxies several parsecs away, but instead standing right next to each other in one galaxy or the other.

Some of the physical interactions I've had:

The very first meeting with Master Windu and Obi-Wan.

Someone who looked exactly like a clone trooper (height, looks, everything) once entered my history classroom in third grade to speak with my teacher. Being a child, I asked him outright if he was a clone, and he responded by saying no while laughing after looking at me scared. His expression is one of the few I will never forget.

A Patrolian in the park in my town.

A metal statue cut clean through in another park in my town. Parts of it were melted along the cut. The cut was also too straight for anything we could possibly use. It was cut in one fluid motion.

Hearing the rattle of clone armor by the lake near my apartment. My roommate heard it as well. We were the only ones around and it was the middle of the night.

Almost every physical interaction I've had has had someone else confirm that they were indeed physically there (I was the only one who saw the Patrolian).

One of the most interesting things about this experience as a whole is how much actually carries over to here. Mannerisms, beliefs, even abilities have transferred to this galaxy.

For example, with the Force, you're able to sense another being's presence, even distinguish exactly who it is. Every living thing, from the largest sentient being to the smallest organism, has their own unique presence in the Force. One thing that has carried over for me is a very diluted version (best way I can describe it) of being able to sense a presence.

Things I've learned about the SW galaxy through shifting:

They actually have a name for their galaxy. It's called the "Virdon Galaxy".

They know of other galaxies and have named them as well, regardless if the occupants of said galaxy call it that or not. They call the Milky Way galaxy (our galaxy) the "Retuura Galaxy". They also call Earth "Areen", Mercury "Bentuu", and Pluto "Virk". The other planets never came up in any conversations.

Our entire planetary system was never charted on any official star maps prior to Master Windu and Obi-Wan's visit. I was never told why.

They consider us a backwater planet and very primitive. Don't be offended. A lot of backwater planets get overlooked, and during the Clone War, that can be a really good thing sometimes.

The clones are some of the greatest people you'll ever meet. It's like having a giant family of protective brothers you didn't know you wanted. That being said, they're still soldiers, and men. They talk very coarsely. A lot. Especially when they think younglings can't hear them. Those men have absolutely no filter when they think they're just with their brothers.

The timeline we know to be canon within the franchise is not the actual timeline there. The franchise has been made for entertainment, rather than accuracy. I first met Obi-Wan while the Clone War was ravaging the galaxy. I've also met Qui-Gon Jinn, who unfortunately did perish later on in the Clone War during a mission. In the franchise, he perishes on Naboo.

Time doesn't move the same for each of our galaxies. There have been times where a month has passed here, and only a week has passed there, as well as vice versa. Time is genuinely an illusion with our galaxies.

Force abilities, whether from a natural born being of this galaxy or a Jedi from Coruscant, are weaker in our system than any other known location. Obi-Wan had once mentioned to me that being in this system dulled his senses, as if the system was almost non-existent in the Force. The Council tried to look into it, but not a single member could figure why.

These are all things I learned before I even turned ten. Yes, children have very active imaginations, but there are certain things that not even a child should be able to come up with. I was a very sheltered child, being raised in the church (I won't say what one) by my grandmother. There were certain things I never knew about, let alone even think to research. Anything related to astral projection, reality shifting, or other things considered more spiritual were never exposed to me until I was almost eighteen. So how would an eight year old youngling come up with the idea of practically being an experiment of the Jedi Order? Especially when there were physical interactions. (I say experiment because that's essentially what my training started out being. The Council wanted to see if someone from this Force-starved system could even be trained in the Force. So, quite literally an experiment.)

As for methods? That is unfortunately where my knowledge on the subject ends. Some people write out, or script, where they want to go, what will happen, everything about their desired reality. Some people prefer to meditate before attempting to shift, while others simply jump into it. What's important is that you find what works best for you. Not what works for your parent or your best friend, but for you. Trust your feelings, but do your research. If something feels right or wrong, then it probably is. There's no "one method fits all".

Don't be discouraged if you don't shift on your first try. Some people are more naturally inclined to shifting than others. It's not uncommon for someone to not shift on their first try. It takes practice. Even I still have to practice and I've been doing it for years.

I know this post is slightly all over the place, so if you need clarification on anything or have any questions, please don't hesitate to send me an ask. Please know that any asks I receive (if any) will be posted to benefit anyone else who may have a similar, if not the same, question as long as they are reasonable. Feel free to use the anon option if you don't want your blog name to be shown.

Whether you believe something like this is possible or not, please be respectful to those who believe and have experienced things themselves. Just because someone else was not around for something that someone experiences doesn't mean that it isn't real. We don't truly know what all could be out there. We can barely make it to other planets of our system with robots, let alone vessels that can transport living beings. Things such as reality shifting may seem insane to some, but they are very real to others.

#reality shifting #desired reality #shifting experience #shifting community #shifting realities #shiftblr #reality shift #randomfandomdreaming talks spirituality

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kyberblade · 2 years ago

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Shatter - Gone Rogue (Din x Reader)

A/N: They’re back! These weirdos that I love poked my brain until I couldn’t ignore them. I really hope you love it. We have Fennec and Boba making a guest appearance, too! This is Part 3 in the Shatter-verse. The reader has a name in this fic, but that’s the only descriptor of her. Past that, nothing else, I don’t think. I still use “you” mostly, the name is only used a handful of times. This was meant to be a multi chapter fic, but it’s just not wanting to translate that way, so it’s going to be a series of one shots and a whiff of continuity. Please feel free to send me scenarios, prompts, requests for these crazy kids! Just remember to stick to the rules.

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Warnings: Snark, Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, Din is a warning in and of himself in this one. Typical show violence. Light swear words. Space swearing. Mando’a. Like a lot of it. (Translations at the end of each sentence as I go.) My Mandalorians do what they want. Banter. So much banter. And you’ll probably fall in love with them like I did. (I don’t make the rules.)

Word count: 11,934

Thanks to @grippingbeskar for encouraging me, looking over this for me, and being the one to introduce me to Din fanfiction in the first place, getting me hooked. You are fantastic and I always love our chats.

Also a shout out to @what-the-heckin-heck, @dontletyourchildrenwatchthis, @lloweryourstandardss, and @fordo-kixed-rex for reading it over for me as I went and telling me I wasn’t crazy. (And @deceiver-of-gods for helping me with the Mando’a - You’re a life saver.) (Any mistakes are my own.)

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

Xxx

You twisted the wrench as you tightened the bolt under the Crest, the ship’s shadow blocking you from the scalding heat of Tatooine’s twin suns.

“There. I think that’s it, Peli. Wanna test it out before I move?”

“Sure!” She called, jogging up the ramp and into the cockpit. Her voice came over the comm in your pocket a few seconds later, “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you muttered, wiping sweat from your brow. “Wait!” The engines that had started to power up came to an abrupt halt.

“What?” Peli asked urgently.

“Do I need to have Mando hand me my helmet or something? As protection? In case, I don’t know, something pops off and flies straight for my-”

Her loud guffaw rang throughout the hangar from your comm as you glared at it, unimpressed. “You’ll be fine,” she wheezed, trying to catch her breath as she muttered your words back under her breath in a fit of giggles. “Starting the engines now.”

The ship roared above you, vibrating just slightly to show its displeasure at being finely tuned. Oh well. It was better than the clunking.

“All looks fine up here,” came her voice over the comm as the engines powered down. “You can close her up and come out. Good job.”

Smiling, you mumbled a thanks, starting to scooch out of the tight space when her voice crackled through again, making you pause.

“Hey, wait. When did you finish this interior?”

You squinted as the suns moved just enough to be in your eyes. “Um, in the last few days, I think. You mean on the lower level?”

“Yeah….” Her voice sounded distant, amazed, moving away from the comm like she was turning around.

“Within the last few days. Mando finished it up while I did the wiring with you in the cockpit.” You dragged your gloved hand down your face, bringing it up to block out the suns. “Looks good, doesn’t it?”

“Looks very good,” she agreed. “Almost makes me wish I could go somewhere in this ship. Almost.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Din said dryly, standing by your head.

Pulling your hand down quickly, you glared up at him, reaching out to whack his leg. “Kriff! You scared me! Don’t do that!”

Peli’s laughter barked over the comm once again, soon coming around the corner to join Din’s in real time as she stood beside you. “Need some help? I can get R5 to tow you out a few feet if you need-”

You glared at her, making her snicker. “No, I’m good, thanks. I can manage.” Wiggling back a few inches, you let out a huff before holding a hand out toward Din. “Help your bodyguard out?”

“If anyone attacked right now, I’d be-”

“Don’t say it,” you grumbled.

“I mean, you’re just laying down on the job,” he continued, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you the rest of the way out before offering you a hand to help you up.

“You’re-”

Once you were on your feet again, Din pulled you close, speaking in a low and teasing voice, “It’s a wonder no one’s snuck in here yet.”

“I was about to say the same thing,” a familiar female voice rang out behind him, making you both turn with blasters drawn. “Hello, Mando.”

“Fennec,” he said on a sigh, lowering his weapon.

“Again?!” Peli lamented. “There is a door, you know.”

“And a lovely door it is,” a familiar man’s voice drawled. A tall bald man in beskar walked up casually, one hand resting on his belt, the other cradling a matching Mandalorian helmet against his side. He tipped his head in respect towards Din. “Hello, old friend.”

You moved to stand in front of him, the man and the woman chuckling.

“You can tell your attack dog to stand down anytime now,” the woman said in a droll tone, making her way down from the rafter she sat on.

The man laughed softly. “Attack dog? No, no, this is his shadow!” He gestured to you with his free hand. “Everyone knows the shadow of a Mandalorian is the most dangerous part, because if you’ve lingered long enough to see it, odds are you’re probably within striking distance.”

You smirked. “I don’t mind you.” Turning your blaster on the woman, you gestured to her with the weapon. “You, I’m not so crazy about, but I have a feeling that’ll change.”

Din put his hand on your shoulder, sliding it down your arm to make you lower your blaster. “Ti, this is Fennec Shand and Boba Fett.”

Disengaging your blaster, you holstered it. “The ones who gave us the piece of shi- I mean ship.”

Boba laughed loudly while Fennec rolled her eyes with a small grin. “That would be me,” he chuckled. “She was in horrible shape when I found her, but look at her now!” He gestured to the ship behind you. “Got you here in one piece and she’s sparkling.”

“Because I flew her here,” you grumbled, smiling when Boba laughed again. You liked him. He brought a joy into a room. Walking up, you offered your hand, which he took and gave a firm shake. “Ti Jyrr. Head of strategy and tactics, and temporary head of security. Also currently a bodyguard to the Mand’alor and the child until we can get back home.”

Boba’s eyes lit up. “Speaking of, where is the foundling?”

“Asleep on the ship,” Din stepped up beside you. “He’s her shadow, follows her everywhere. Tired him out early today after she convinced him to chase Peli’s droids around the hangar for a few hours.”

Peli let out a surprised huff of laughter. “That was you? That was the cutest thing I have ever seen. Plus, getting R5 to finally wind down and connect to a charging dock for once - ah! Blissful silence - you’re a magician!”

“I think it was just trying to get away from Grogu,” you smirked, shrugging. “But hey, it all worked out.” Turning back to the newcomers, you jerked your head back toward the ship. “Would you like a tour? I need to wake the kid up, anyway, or he’ll wake up right when I go to sleep and start jumping on my bed or something.”

“That would be lovely,” Boba smiled before his features adopted something a little more serious. He set his helmet on a nearby table before he brought his hands together to rest in front of him. “Then, after that, if we could have a….” He looked at Fennec before turning back to you and Din. “Discussion of sorts? A business proposition is more like it.”

Sharing a look with Din, you nodded once to him. “I can watch the kid so the three of you-”

“Oh no, this would involve you, too.” Boba’s voice made you stop short.

“I can watch the womp rat,” Peli chimed in softly, her hand raised as if you didn’t know who was speaking. “I owe ya one after you got R5 on the dock earlier.”

You shared one more look with Din before he turned to Boba and Fennec. “Sounds like a plan. Now come on. I want to show you what we did with the hyperdrive.”

Xxx

Grogu squawked across the hangar in Peli’s arms as she fed him, the sound bouncing off every surface and echoing into the cool night air.

You and Din sat across from Boba and Fennec at a small table off to the side, parts for all sorts of craft shoved out of the way so you could see one another.

“I have a proposition for you,” Boba began on a sigh, leaning forward on the table to brace on his forearms. “Someone has stolen from me. Wormed his way into my inner circle and as soon as he had an opening, made off with a small fortune in credits.”

He leaned back in his chair, lounging almost. “Now, you know the credits aren’t a problem for me, I don’t care about that.” He leaned forward again, his eyes determined as his finger jammed into the table to emphasize his words. “It’s the principle of the thing.”

“What do you want us to do about it?” Din adjusted in his seat to recline slightly, one hand resting on the table.

“We have enough people to keep the ports and ways out of town under surveillance,” Fennec took over. “He’s not going anywhere. But by keeping everything under watch, we don’t have the manpower to actually look for him.”

“And you think just the two of us is enough?” Both of them looked at you in amusement.

“Two Mandalorians is more than enough.” Boba chuckled. “He’s not a genius by any means.”

“He was smart enough to get past you.”

Din kicked your foot under the table with his own, making you roll your eyes.

Boba looked on in amusement. “That he was,” he agreed with a nod. “Probably because I don’t have someone like you keeping watch for me. Then again, we did sneak up on you today, did we not?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked across the hangar absently, not willing to dignify that with an answer.

“These things happen,” he continued, his voice softer. “I just want to make an example so it doesn’t happen again.”

“We wanted to give you first go at it before we put out a puck.” Your eyes finally landed on Fennec as she explained, a smirk growing on her face. “Figured you’d want some fun before you had to get off planet. And like Boba said, credits aren’t a problem, so your finders fee should help keep your life on the run well funded.”

“What are friends for,” Boba drawled teasingly, his focus across the table on Din.

“I’m assuming you want him alive,” he finally said after a long moment, sitting up straight in his chair.

“Preferably,” Boba nodded, the corners of his lips turning up slightly. “But should something…. happen, I’m not going to deduct anything from the final total.”

“Can you send us copies of city maps we can add to our navs in our helmets?” All three heads turned to you. “It’ll be much easier if we’re not getting lost in the maze of back alleys and market stalls.”

Boba looked at Fennec before he turned back to you with an amused look and nodded.

“I’m also assuming you don’t want any damage done to the city? Or at least, as little as possible?” You turned to Din. “I have some blasters with decent stun features I picked up at the market the other day when I made a food run. Might be best to avoid the most civilian casualties and property damage, then if we get close enough to him and get a clear shot, should we need to, we can switch it over.”

“You went blaster shopping on a food run?” Din asked after a moment of silence.

You shrugged. “I’m a Mandalorian. Weapons are part of my religion.”

“This is the way,” Boba teased.

Din groaned, making you smile. Leaning forward to offer Boba his hand across the table, they shook on it. “We have a deal. We’ll start first thing in the morning.”

After getting the man’s details, talking over the prices, and getting the necessary maps, you all said goodbye.

“It was an honor to meet you,” you said as you stood beside Din near the doorway on their way out.

“The honor is all mine,” Boba said, his head inclined as he looked down at you. “I’m excited to see you work, Ti.”

“If it all goes to plan, you won’t notice a thing.”

He chuckled at that, looking to Din and bowing his head respectfully. “Mand’alor.” Then they disappeared into the night.

Turning to Din, he turned to face you before you both began walking back into the hangar. “Why don’t you go grab Grogu, let Peli get to sleep, and I’ll meet you on the ship. Show you what all I bought.”

He nodded, his steps speeding up as he headed toward the little alcove where R5’s bleeps and Grogu’s squeaks were heard echoing softly.

You went up the ramp of the Crest, going to the weapons cabinet where you had stored your recent purchases and pulled a few out.

Din padded up the ramp quietly a few minutes later, a sleeping Grogu in his arms, making you smile as he passed by. “He passed out almost as soon as she handed him off,” Din said on an amused huff.

Setting Grogu in his small hammock before he closed the door to the bunk area, he turned back to you and sighed, rubbing the top of his helmet absently.

“What’s wrong?” You set the blasters down and turned to fully face him.

“She can’t watch him tomorrow. Has some job she agreed to before we got here.” He leaned on the wall next to the bunk door. “I used to take him with me on bounties, but….”

“That was when you were on the run because of the bounty on him. Now we’re on the run basically because of a bounty on you.”

Din lifted his head, his visor meeting your understanding gaze, nodding gently before he looked away again.

“Hey, the bounty is basically on both of us.” You took a step closer, craning your neck back, tilting your head just slightly to try and catch his eyes. “You don’t get to take all the blame, Djarin. Whatever is going on, it’s a problem for all Mandalorians, and we aren’t the kind to just hide under a rock.” Looking over his shoulder, you studied the wall behind him. “Well, except for coverts, but we aren’t talking about that.”

He snorted out a laugh, making you return your eyes to his visor and grin up at him. “He doesn’t care. He loves spending the day with you. Just bring him with.” Your hand came to rest on his upper arm.

“I don’t want to put him in any more danger. If anything happened to him because of me, I-”

“Then I’ll take him with me.” He finally met your gaze again. “I’ll keep him safe. Do you trust me?”

After a moment Din nodded. “You know I do.”

“Then it’s settled.” You squeezed his arm before letting your hand fall back to your side. “I’ll take him in the cradle. I’ll keep him safe. Nothing will happen to him.”

Lifting his head all the way back up, Din looked behind you. Gesturing with a jut of his chin, he asked quietly, “What’s under the tarp?”

Turning to face the nearby crate draped in the dull fabric, you made your way over to it. “They didn’t know what they had. It’s all pieced out and needs a good clean, Peli might even have some parts you could replace these with if they’re too far gone, but…. I thought you might want it after all the stories you’ve told me while we’ve been working on the ship.”

“Stories?” Din looked down at the crate as you pulled the cloth away, showing old rusty pieces that put together would be an Amban rifle.

“You mentioned you lost it with the ship, and since you have the ship again….”

Din traced the parts with one gloved hand, his fingers barely touching the storied metal pieces.

“Since we’re fighting for our home, our values, our everything, it only seemed right that you do it with this. Thought it might help restore your faith a little bit.” You winked.

“Thank you,” he spoke softly, his hand coming to rest on your upper arm like yours had on his. “I…. This is…. Thank you.”

“Now, don’t stay up all night putting it together,” you warned. “You need sleep. And it’ll be here later.”

He looked at you with a tilt of his head that said, you’re crazy.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” You smirked. “I’ll help.”

Xxx

As the suns began to peek over the lip of the hangar the next morning, Din stood just inside the Crest admiring the completed Amban rifle.

He held it in his hands, tilting it back and forth to see it from all angles, his head tilting fondly the longer he stared.

Letting out a massive yawn from where you sat on a nearby crate, you smirked at him. “Why don’t you just ask it to marry you already? That’d be faster than whatever this is.” You made a small circular gesture to him with your hand, arching your brow when he lifted his visor to look at you for the first time in hours.

Before he could say anything, the bunk door slid open to your right, Grogu already bright eyed and chittering happily after a good night's rest.

“Jate vaar'tur, ad’ika,” you said softly, yawning again as you reached for the tiny green creature ambling over to you as fast as his little legs would carry him. “Did you sleep well?” Reaching down, you scooped him into your lap, chuckling when he screeched joyfully. (“Good morning, little one.”)

The kid reached out and grabbed the mudhorn pendant you wore, his eyes going wide as it caught the light just right, before he promptly began gnawing on it.

“Kid,” Din groaned. “Hey. Stop that. Grogu.” He began to walk over, reaching out to tug the metal out of his son’s mouth. “That’s not what that’s for, kid.”

Making a sound of displeasure, Grogu looked between both of you before trying to take his new toy back from between Din’s fingers, letting out an annoyed huff and glaring up at his father when it was pulled further away from him.

“It’s too sharp, ad’ika. You could get hurt.” Grogu looked up at you with the biggest eyes you’d seen yet, blinking slowly as if to plead with you to give in. “I know. How about we get you some food instead?” A laugh painted the last few words as Grogu’s face changed instantly and he began trying to scale your front to get face to face with you, slipping down your chest plate with a screech.

It quickly melted into another yawn, Grogu following suit a few seconds later, and Din a few moments after that.

Shaking your head, you got to your feet. “I’ll get him something to eat, and grab a cup or seven of caf. Want some?” Din nodded, turning back to admiring his rifle again, making you roll your eyes as you began down the ramp. “I’ll be right back. Give you two a moment alone.”

Din mumbled his thanks, not looking up from the weapon as you glanced over your shoulder, smirking.

Headed for the kitchen, you mumbled almost conspiratorially to Grogu, “Your dad is something else, kid.”

Xxx

As your little clan of three stepped through the door of the hangar, Peli’s voice sending you on your way ringing off of every hard surface behind you, both you and Din shared a look before turning to the kid where he sat in his floating cradle.

“You got that set to stun?” Motioning to Din’s new Amban rifle that sat on his back, attached to a leather strap slung across his chest, you tightened your gloves.

He nodded once in confirmation, his head slowly turning to survey the nearby area.

“What about everything else?”

His visor turned to lock with yours. “All but one. I’m not leaving myself defenseless.”

You let out a snort of laughter. “I think if anyone had to use a word to describe you, ‘defenseless’ wouldn’t be on the list, even if you didn’t have a single weapon.”

“Then remind me the purpose of your job, then, if I don’t need protecting?” You tilted your head at him in annoyance. “I like to be prepared,” he amended, pulling your hand toward his and fixing the clasp on your glove you had been fiddling with. “What did you do to this? It’s like it’s been through a trash compactor.”

You couldn’t help but snort once again. “Not far off. R5 rolled over it a grand total of three times before I could get him to stop moving- hey!” You cried in protest as he yanked the buckle from the fabric with a precise tug, tucking it into the pouch on his belt and tying a simple but effective knot in its place.

“I’ll fix it before we leave. But right now, you need to focus, and you can’t if you have a buckle- if it can even still be called that- flopping around while you're trying to aim.” Cinching the knot tight, he let your hand fall back to your side. “There. Ready to go, ner cabur?” (“My protector.”)

You shook your head at his antics. “Elek, olaror, ner verd'ika.” (“Yes, come, my little soldier.”)

Din scoffed at your teasing tone, following a few paces behind as you both ventured into the market, the kid following alongside you in his cradle. “Mir'sheb.” (“Smartass.”)

“The smartest,” you quipped playfully, looking at the kid with an affectionate tilt of your head as he grinned broadly back up at you.

“Sheb'urcyin,” Din grumbled, making you bark out a laugh. (“Butt-kisser.”)

Looking at him over your shoulder as you continued forward, you spoke over a laugh, your words bouncing with the effort. “Now what about me has ever made you think that?”

“You’re right. Your pure shereshoy blinded me for a minute and I had to look away. I only saw what the sarcasm allowed.” (“Lust for life and much more.”)

You turned to face him, walking backwards, your voice the most sarcastic he had heard it in days. “Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod?” (“Are you looking for a smack in the face, mate?”)

Din smiled under his helmet, glad to finally be back to the banter the two of you had slipped into since first going on the run days ago. The closer it got to leaving Tatooine, the more business minded and mission oriented you had been, focused on making everything run smoothly for all three of them, and it seemed to come at the cost of some of your lighter moods. Seeing the teasing tilt of your helmet now, the almost literal spring in your step, hearing the lilt in your voice…. The world was spinning the right way again. “Now, now, don’t be stupid, that would be a jare move.” (“Kamikaze - someone taking a fatal, foolish risk.”)

Barking out another laugh, you turned to walk forward again, Din shaking his head fondly once your back was turned. “I’ll show you a jare move,” you grumbled.

Grogu began to coo happily as he looked between the two of you, giggling softly as he looked up at you with a broad grin, his eyes squinting in the bright sunlight.

Looking down at him, you huffed out a laugh. “You think that’s funny, ad’ika? You think I’m funny when I threaten your dad?” He giggled again. “That’s kinda copikla, kid.” (“Cute.”)

“Be careful who you jurkadir, burc'ya.” (“Threaten/Mess with.”) (“Friend.”)

You turned to face him, your hands held behind your back in feigned innocence as you leaned toward him to tease, “That works both ways, burc'ya.”

“Sha'kajir?” Din held up his hands in surrender. (“Truce?”)

You thought for a moment before bowing your head in agreement. “Sha'kajir. Oya!” (“Let’s hunt!”)

“Should we split up?” Din stepped up beside you, surveying the sea of market stalls sprawling in front of you.

“Not yet. Let’s move as a unit for now, let everyone see us together. Then, later I’ll take the market while you take the alleys, and if we happen upon him- or anyone else who wants to cause us trouble- they’ll assume the other is nearby and they’ll be distracted looking for someone who isn’t there.”

Nodding, Din followed behind you as you started into the crowd, people watching your little party with weary glances, but they didn’t keep their distance like people on other planets tended to do.

It only took a few minutes before you stopped and turned to Din, your voice low. “I see him. He’s in the cantina.”

Looking to his left, Din saw the man sitting at the bar, surrounded by a group of locals, all guffawing as he told some story. “Too many other people. We’ll tail him.” Reaching up to touch the side of his helmet, he overlaid the map of the alleys behind the building. “I’ll go around the back and wait, make sure he doesn’t get spooked and try to run.”

“What are they even laughing at?” You muttered, staring blatantly into the dingy watering hole. “He’s probably not even that funny.”

“Why do you say that?”

You looked up at him. “Have you seen his face?” Turning back to the bar, you shifted your weight to one side. “He just doesn’t have it.”

Din let out a snort. “They’re probably just doing whatever gets them another drink. Looks like he’s waving his new found wealth around without much worry.”

“Di'kut,” you grumbled, moving to lean your back against the front of the building with a soft groan. (“Idiot.”)

“Kaysh mirsh solus,” Din agreed with a chuckle, stepping into the shade next to you. (“He's an idiot.” (Lit. “His brain cell is lonely.”))

“Go ahead and wait by the back door. I’ll stay here with the kid.”

“And what’s going to keep you out of trouble? You’re not known for being the best at waiting.”

You turned your face to him slowly, ignoring his satisfied shift of weight, the teasing tilt of his helmet as he waited for your response. “Myself,” you grit out, leaning your head back to look down your nose at him.

Turning your attention back across the street, you saw a little nest of scurriers tucked under one of the booths. Tilting your hand until the suns caught the armor on the back of it just right, light reflecting off the raw beskar triangle and bouncing onto the sand near the nest. The creatures lifted their heads, cautiously investigating the light as it danced with every slight movement of your hand, running in circles as you made it go this way and that.

The kid watched with rapt attention, clapping and squealing with delight as the scurriers stumbled over one another in an effort to catch the light.

Turning your visor up to Din proudly, you paused when he tilted his head down to peer what felt like straight into your soul.

“What? Oh, come on! It’s harmless!”

“Ner ver'gebuir, anade.” Din gestured to you with a flourish, bowing at his waist in a mock introduction to no one as he spoke in a low tone. (“My bodyguard, everyone.”)

You pulled your hand back into the shadow of the building to shove him to the side, the scurriers following the light as it streaked across the market, making a cart pulled by a droid slam to a stop to avoid hitting the creatures. All was well until a landspeeder crashed into the back of that cart, then a speeder bike into the back of that.

Smoke curled into the marketplace, causing patrons to begin to vacate, the passengers of the vehicles involved all hopping out and beginning to yell at one another as the scurriers returned to their nest safe and forgotten.

People in all the nearby establishments began to pour into the streets to see what the commotion was, the lane filling with bodies faster than you could process what was happening.

“Kriff,” you mumbled, taking in the scene before adding a hissed, “Osik!” Turning you surveyed the bar, finding no sign of the quarry. (“Shit!”)

“Dank farrik!” Din grumbled, taking a few steps out onto the street and pressing the side of his helmet as he scanned the crowd.

“What are you looking for? Heat signatures will be useless right now. It’s Tatooine, so it’s hot, plus everyone and their bantha is on the street right now-”

“K'uur!” Din snapped, making you pull up abruptly from where you stood, standing at attention. (“Hush!”)

“Me'ven?” You deadpanned, staring right at him. (“Huh?”)

He sighed, still surveying the street. “I need to concentrate. Please. Just five seconds of silence.”

Pushing a button on your vambrace, you closed the cradle to protect the child, but a repetitive knocking from inside made you roll your eyes and pop it back open. Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked at the kid, one hip jutting out to the side as you gave him the look.

“Really?” You signed to him in Tusken, shifting your weight to the other side when he giggled in response.

“I think he took the alleys,” Din finally said, turning to face you, and finding the kid giggling as you signed away to him. “Ti,” he grabbed your attention, ignoring the attitude he felt when you tilted your head at him questioningly. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you signed, standing up straight again.

“That’s not nothing, that’s-”

“Uur,” you whispered sarcastically in explanation, leaning toward him as you did. (“Silence.”)

Din huffed in annoyance. “I had his chain code programmed to an old puck Fennec brought me. I rerouted it and sent the signal to my display so I can track him without tipping off the mark, or anyone seeing the fob and getting in the way.”

You stared at him. It was all you could do. Arms still across your chest, you shifted your weight under his gaze. “Is there a way I can get my hands on that, too?” Your voice was small, and you hated it.

He reached out, tapping the side of your helmet twice, and your display filtered through settings before landing on a blinking red dot moving rapidly back behind the buildings to your right.

“I did it last night when you fell asleep while we were putting the rifle together. You left your helmet on a crate next to you. Only took a second, in and out, no problems.”

“I didn’t-”

“You drool.”

Again, all you could do was stare wordlessly, hoping your brain would catch up with something in time to snap back with. And it did. “You snore louder than a kriffing bantha fart.”

Din just held your gaze, neither one of you moving an inch as the child babbled mindlessly, watching the chaos ensue throughout the streets. “Sounds like we’re both a party, then.”

“Bal'ban,” you mused quietly in agreement, huffing out a small laugh. (“Indeed.”)

This was the most Mando’a the two of you had spoken since leaving Mandalore days ago. Slipping into it was effortless, and it helped logistically in the chaotic din left behind by the accident. It was easy to pick out the familiar words above the rest of the noise, allowing both of you to communicate painlessly.

Din chuckled, nodding as he turned to find the bounty again. “He’s moving toward the port. Fennec and Boba said they have the area well guarded, so he won’t get far, but I think it best we split up and head him off before he tries anything stupid.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” you muttered. “Man’s a or'dinii. Stole from the richest man in the city, okay, kinda smart. But that man is also a crime boss who wears beskar, and is probably one of the most lethal people on the planet, present company excluded.” (“Moron.”)

“Comms channel two. Head to the port through the streets, I’ll go through the alleys like we planned.” Din turned to the kid, sighing heavily after a moment.

Narrowing your brows, you followed his gaze and found Grogu letting out soft happy squeals as the cradle spun in circles by some unseen force.

Moving as a unit, both you and Din reached out to grab the sides of the hovering orb, bringing it to a gentle stop, Grogu’s head still moving in a small rotation as the world continued to spin around him.

“At least he can entertain himself. And quietly,” you chuckled, turning your attention from the little green ward back up to Din’s visor.

“Mmm-hmm,” he agreed on a hum, moving his hand from the edge of the cradle to his son to stabilize his still woozy wobbling, tugging down the front of his robe about an inch to check he had the beskar shirt on.

“I put it on him myself, Mando.” Din’s visor turned to you as he let the robe go, smoothing the fabric back in place before withdrawing his hand altogether. “He’ll be safe. I promise. He’s my aliit now, too, remember.” Din nodded once. “You have my word, no harm will come to him.” (“Family/Clan.”)

You couldn’t help but smile. Here was this large, dangerous Mandalorian, and his level of care and concern for arguably the smallest little ward in the galaxy never failed to make you stop and stare. Their meeting went beyond just fate, beyond just chance bringing a protector to a child in need. Something greater was at work here, bringing two lonely, damaged souls together to help pick up one another’s pieces.

They were forged with fire, stronger than any beskar, hardened and tempered against the strongest of tests. And now not even the greatest blacksmith in the galaxy would be able to pry these two apart. But it loved to try. And you’d do everything in your power to keep them from breaking, keep them strong, no matter the cost. Ne shab'rud'mhi. (“Don't mess with us.”)

You smiled broader at the thought of staring fate down in the face, should it ever try to do your family harm. Ne shab'rud'ni. (“Don't mess with me.”)

“Now go.”

Din took a few steps backwards, keeping his eyes on you, then the kid, before turning and disappearing down an alley, the smoke from the accident curling around him.

“You saw everything!” A man walked up to you, covered in black streaks of soot and smoke, probably grease from whichever of the three vehicles involved was his. “I need you to tell the authorities.”

Reaching out, you patted his shoulder in what he probably took for kindness, but you were just tamping out some embers smoldering through his tunic. “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t have the time. I-”

“I wasn’t asking,” he ground out, grabbing your wrist where your hand still sat on his shoulder, squeezing it much too tightly. He gave it a good jerk toward the wreck, but you pulled back, making him stumble, before turning a glare on you.

Without fuss, you adjusted your grip on him and yanked him to you, stooping down slightly while swinging your arm before straightening back up as he flipped in the air, landing flat on his back at your feet with an oomph.

You looked down at him, unamused, as Grogu peered over the edge of the cradle, cooing gleefully.

“I said,” you leaned just slightly closer to him, tilting your head when he flinched away, “no.”

Lifting your visor back to the streets, you switched your display to the city map, overlaying it with the tracker with a press of a button on your vambrace. Another press opened comm channel two. “You there?”

“What took you so long?” Din sounded relieved as you began to venture through the mess of market stalls toward your target.

“Don’t worry about it. Locals,” you brushed off, turning abruptly to bypass a thick group of pedestrians.

He grunted. “Explain.”

“Someone wanted me to make a statement about the accident,” you sighed, navigating back to the main road. “Didn’t understand the word ‘no’.”

“How did you explain it to them?”

You grinned. “You know me. It was fast and only slightly painful.”

“Ti, you better not have-”

“I didn’t kill him,” you protested loudly, veering to the right. “Why did you jump to that?”

“Have you met you?”

“No. No, I haven’t. How am I? Am I great? I hear I’m amazing.” He let out a soft snort. “Yes. I can confirm, I’m amazing. I live up to the hype.”

Din’s soft chuckle filled your ears before a blaster shot replaced it, making you pull up short.

“Din?” He didn’t answer. “What’s going on?”

“Kriffing Jawas,” he grumbled. “Tried to jump me and take my jet pack.”

You snorted, shaking your head gently as you began moving again. “At least tell me-”

“It was set to stun,” he ground out as if the thought was physically painful to him, making you laugh a bit harder. “I know why you jumped to that.”

“Good, so you’ve met you.” Teasing, you pushed another button and a yellow dot popped up showing Din’s location.

“Yes. I can confirm, I’m amazing. I live up to the hype.”

“That’s what you think,” you mumbled under your breath, smiling again when he hummed in question. “Nothing.” Stopping, you watched the red dot start to head in a totally different direction. “He’s deviating.”

“I see. Looks like he’s doubling back. Headed your way.”

Nodding, you turned and headed back the way you came. “I’ll cut him off at the bar. The accident mess will add enough cover to not draw attention to us.”

“Good idea. Plus, then you can give your statement.”

“Nu draar.” Din chuckled at your response. “I would rather eat a mouthful of this sand.” (“Absolutely not.”)

“That’s commitment.”

“You sound like you speak from experience. You ever gotten a mouthful of Tatooine before?”

“Once or twice. I did kill a krayt dragon not long ago, remember.”

“How can I forget? You tell that story at least once a week if not more.”

Din grumbled.

“At the rate you’re moving, we’ll be at the bar at the same time.”

“How do you…. You’re tracking me?”

Dodging under a cart as it crossed the road in front of you, sliding on the sand in its shadow before hopping back up, you smiled at Grogu’s happy squeal of approval at your side. “You sound surprised. Of course I am. You and the child are my first priority.” Glancing over at the green smiling face at your side, wide eyes taking in the world around him, you moved a bit faster. “You aren’t the only one who did some display modification last night. I ran the upload while I was comforting Grogu after his nightmare.”

“How-”

“I have two hands. He fits in one, I can press buttons with the other-”

Din’s heavy sigh cut you off. “No, how are you tracking me? Chain code?”

“It’s a program I made a few days ago before we even left Mandalore, believe it or not. Chain codes would be too dangerous if anyone got their hands on it, especially for the kid. Too universal of a tracker. This is a regional proximity sensor, condensed to a certain mile radius I can set each time I open it. Right now it’s just three miles, the size of the city from the port to the hangar. It’s following your comm. Specifically the one in your helmet.”

He hesitated. “When did you-”

“I told you. You snore. Loudly.” He said nothing. “You didn’t wake up the entire time I plugged in, uploaded, modified…. You just kept snoring away under that dome, oblivious.” You grinned. “You’re lucky I wasn’t trying to kill you.”

“I think that would have woken me up,” he huffed.

“Would it have, though?” The smile grew in the silence. “I’m good at my job, remember.”

“How can I forget? You remind me at least once a week if not more.”

It was your turn to grumble.

The bar was just up ahead, the red dot of the quarry now still behind a few buildings to the right. “He’s stopped. The area behind the accident. Maybe he’s not so stupid after all….”

“Don’t tell me you’re starting to admire him.”

“Why? You jealous, Djarin?”

“No,” he answered after a moment. “Just…. Concerned. You called him a moron less than an hour ago.”

“Even morons have their moments,” you said absently, turning in a circle as you searched for a clear way to the target.

That’s when you saw him.

He was leaning up against a wall, arms crossed easily, ankles crossed leisurely as he watched them begin to pull the vehicles apart, a small grin on his face.

“He’s here.”

“What?” Din must have stopped, because his voice no longer shook from the impact of his footfalls. A quick glance showed his yellow dot was indeed stationary. “But the tracker-”

“Is wrong. I’m looking right at him.”

Just then he looked up and held the gaze of your visor for a long moment, realization dawning on his face before he pushed off the wall and turned down the alley, disappearing in the smoke just like Din had.

“Osi'kyr!” You took off running after him, pressing a button on your vambrace to make the cradle go faster, shaking your head when Grogu let out an approving cackle. (“Strong exclamation of surprise or dismay.”)

“Ti?” Din’s voice rang in your helmet, and he was once again in motion, grunting as he dodged around the many obstacles Tatooine always provided. “Which way?”

“South. Turn your display off and back on, it should reset. I don’t have time, I have eyes on him, I’m not losing that.” Jumping over a large crate, you had to vault over an even larger one on the other side, and your feet went out from under you when you landed, making you roll before quickly popping back up and resuming the chase. “The sand tastes like shit, by the way.”

A soft laugh filled your helmet, growing steadily with each second.

“Never give Tatooine an ultimatum. She’ll make sure you eat your words. Literally.”

Smacking your lips in distaste, trying to get rid of as much of the grit as you could without doing anything to your helmet and losing sight of the target, you made a sound of disgust.

“Was that for my joke or the sand?”

You chuckled, licking your lips as you ran faster still. “I haven’t decided yet.”

The cradle kicked up a notch, speeding along beside you, dodging crates and civilians with ease. Grogu screeched with excitement, holding on to the front rim of the orb as his ears flapped behind him in the wind.

“Display is back up. He’s right in front of you.”

“I can see that, thanks.”

He huffed. “You have a dead end coming up. Two turns to the left and one to the right. Corral him there.”

Nodding, you turned sideways to shimmy past two tight walls. “Got it.”

The quarry was desperate, throwing whatever he could get his hands on at you, clothes on lines between buildings, pottery in people’s windows, contents people were carrying.

You’d successfully dodged all of it, the kid too, his cradle swinging left and right as you ducked and rolled out of the way, making him let out little grunts from the impact of each abrupt direction change. Until a white shirt came flying toward the cradle, covering the kid from top to bottom, forming to him like carbonite from the force of the wind behind it. The impact cut his scream of glee short, silence ringing through the alley as your steps slowed just slightly, your attention turning to him, assessing him for injuries. Suddenly giggles started erupting from under the material, growing by the second, and finally the shirt flew off of him by an unseen force, drifting to the ground lazily as it was released. Grogu looked at you with pure joy, babbling something as he gestured toward the man with one clawed hand, the quarry’s steps slowing down as he looked down at the ground with wide eyes.

“Thanks, kid,” you chuckled, speeding back up, the cradle matching your speed as Grogu gripped the edges again, the bounty regaining control of his limbs and charging ahead. “You’re a little troublemaker, you know that?”

“Patu!” You grinned at his declaration, his own smile beaming up at you before he began to squeal again as you picked up speed.

The man kept glancing over his shoulder, stumbling when he did, but he’d gain the ground right back when he turned back the right way, making you grunt in frustration.

“You’re almost to the dead end.”

“Kriff! Son of a mudscuffer!” You hissed. “I forgot you were there, Din. You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” he sounded almost sheepish, before he began again abruptly. “Right! Right! Get him to go right!”

“Hey! Asshole!” The man’s steps stuttered before he leaned into it again. “Whatever you do, don’t you dare go right!”

He hesitated, slowing just slightly, and you matched him, wanting to give him the illusion of control. Finally he came to a stop, turning to face you, a skeptical eyebrow raised as he asked, “Why?”

You grinned under your helmet, trying to control the glee in your voice that he was falling for the trap. Stopping a few yards away from him, you slouched slightly, feigning catching your breath. “Because I can’t follow you there. My nav stops at this point and I’d be going in blind. Help a girl out, huh?” You held your hands out to the side, showing you didn’t have a weapon drawn. Grogu cooed questioningly as he tilted his head at the man.

“Well, in that case, I think that’s exactly where I’ll go.” He grinned.

“No,” you cried out, trying to sound convincing, and starting to head his way again, stumbling slightly for dramatic effect with a hand reached toward him as if it would do any good.

When he disappeared down the dark alley, you dropped all pretenses. “Or'dinii,” you muttered under your breath, watching after him. “Headed for the dead end, Din.” No answer. “Din?” Looking around, you saw his yellow dot stalled nearby, his comm crackling through. (“Fool.”)

A growled, “Jawas,” was all you heard, before some grunting, the comm crackling in and out, then the telltale “Utinni!” made you roll your eyes before you headed into the darkness after the mark.

“So long as I don’t hear the….” A distinct shot echoed in a nearby alley, making you lift your hand to cradle your face, shaking your head. “….Amban rifle.”

You walked up slowly, casually, enjoying the sight of the quarry staring up at the dead end, frantically trying to find a way up and over the massive wall. One hand resting on your hip as it juts to the side easily, you watched for a moment in amusement before clearing your throat.

The mark went stiff before turning to face you, glowering fiercely. “Couldn’t come this far, huh?”

“To be fair,” you began, gesturing needlessly with your free hand as you spoke, “I did tell you not to come over here.”

He huffed an unamused laugh as he looked off to the side, ignoring the sound of a shrieking Jawa somewhere a few buildings over.

Din’s yellow dot still blinked steadily despite the broken connection, and it seemed he was finally making his way over to you. You just had to stall.

“I’m assuming this is because I stole the credits?”

“That would be correct.”

“How much is my bounty?”

You tilted your head at him in amusement. “More than you took.”

“Okay, look lady,” he was starting to get desperate. “If you let me go, I’ll give you what I have left, plus interest!”

“Interest?”

“I didn’t just steal from Fett! I’ve been making my way across all the crime families of Tatooine. I’ve got a mountain of credits back at my place, stashed under the floorboards.”

“Gar cuyi or’dinii,” you whispered under your breath, but he heard you. He must have thought it was an exclamation of joy or disbelief at the information, though, because he simply smiled smugly, nodding as he offered a quiet, “It’s true.” (“You’re a moron.”)

And, well, you couldn’t really disagree.

“Where is this place?” You asked instead, jutting your chin toward him as he began to smirk.

“Right beside the bar across the street from where you first found me. There’s enough there for you to buy anything you want. New armor….” Din’s yellow dot was coming in fast. “A new ship….” He was almost here. “A friend for your, er,” he eyed Grogu, the child narrowing his eyes at him, unamused, “pet….” He finally decided on, earning a grunt from the kid.

“He’s not a pet,” you corrected calmly, taking a step closer to the man, and his smug demeanor all but crumbled instantly.

“I’m not scared of you!”

“I’m not the one you need to be worried about,” you replied simply with a shrug. Tilting your head back and to the right, you smiled under the beskar. “It’s his kid.”

The bounty barely had time to register your words, mumbling, “Kid? What is that thing?” before Din’s armor clad fist was slamming into his face with a clang.

As the engine of his jet pack powered down, Din took a few extra steps from the momentum before stopping, breathing heavily like he had just got out of a fight for his life. “We don’t know,” he said decidedly to the unconscious man. “But he’s my son.”

“Utreekov,” you muttered, nudging the man with the toe of your boot. (“Idiot.”)

Slapping binders on the quarry, Din slung the man over his shoulder before turning back to you. “Kriffing Jawas,” he seethed, shaking his head before taking off again with his jet pack.

You shook your head in disbelief. “I don’t have one of those, why?!”

Din just laughed softly, the sound buzzing around the inside of your helmet.

Looking up as he disappeared over the buildings, his cape flapped dangerously close to the flames. “You’re just a fire hazard!”

Xxx

Boba and Fennec were there to meet you once you returned to the hangar.

Peli was blushing at something the older man was saying, waving him off with a quick laugh as she turned to see your clan of three come through the door.

“Oh, thank the Force, you’re all alive!”

“You thought we wouldn’t be?”

“With you I never know.” She leveled you with a look.

Din let the man flop to the floor unceremoniously, leaving him in the heap he landed in. “Here’s your thief.”

“That’s him alright,” Boba sighed, turning the bounty onto his back with a shove to his shoulder from his boot. “Thank you.” His eyes flicked between you and Din. “I heard about an accident by the cantina. That didn’t happen to be either of you, by chance?”

Din shook his head wordlessly while you copied him a few seconds later, adding, “No. Saw it happen, though. They swerved to avoid some wildlife.”

Boba nodded, looking between you both for a long moment. “Okay, then.” He began to turn away, but you stopped him.

“Wait.” He paused, looking at you with a curious tilt of his head. “The quarry spoke to me at the end, tried to bribe me. I think you might be interested in what he had to say.”

Boba gestured for you to continue with a bob of his head. “Go on.”

“He said he’s been making his way through the crime families of Tatooine. Offered to give me what was left of your credits plus interest.” You explained the rest about his house and stash, their faces a mix between frustration and surprise the further along you got. “He seemed to be telling the truth, but I wanted to know what you both thought before moving on it.”

They exchanged loaded glances before asking you to go look into it. “Take Fennec, she’ll get you out of any locals asking too many questions. We’re from Mos Espa, but they know us here, too. Mando, I’ll help you get this one,” Boba shoved the man’s shoulder with the tip of his boot, earning a groan from his still unconscious state, “to my cells.”

“I’ll watch the kid,” Peli offered softly, pulling the cradle to her as Grogu snored gently.

Nodding, you turned and followed Fennec out the front door of the hangar.

Xxx

Knocking on the door of the house, just as a precaution, you slammed your shoulder into it when nobody answered, busting it open. It was sparsely furnished, the only real defining thing a giant rug over the middle of the floor. Letting out a huff of laughter, you shook your head as you knelt down, flipping the corner back as you scanned the bare floor with your display, looking for a varying heat signature. Finding it near the middle of the rug after you pushed more of it to the side, you pried a board up, slipping the rest out easily and handing them to Fennec to set to the side. Pulling back once they were all removed, you let out a low whistle.

Sure enough, under the floorboards there was a pile of credits, almost tall enough for you to stick your arm in up to your shoulder, and wide enough it’d take two containers to get it out. The ground underneath had been dug out, leaving behind a hole filled nearly to the brim.

“He’s been a busy little thief, hasn’t he,” Fennec mused quietly as she stared at the glinting pile of credits with wide eyes.

“Too bad he wasn’t also a smart one.”

Turning your visor her way, you met Fennec’s gaze in silence, holding it for a moment before you both broke down in snorts of laughter, warm chuckles filling the night air.

She sat back on her haunches, grunting as she settled in. “You know, I’ll admit, I was a little leery at the beginning. I’ve worked with Mando before, I didn’t really know why we needed you, too.”

Turning your visor back to the pile of credits, she was quick to continue.

“But,” she said pointedly, “Boba was quick to help me see the error of my ways.” Smiling fondly, she waited until you turned your gaze back her way before saying anything more. “You two work well together.”

“He’s easy to work with,” you countered with a shrug.

“No he’s not,” she said with a snort, making you shake your head as you chuckled. “But he’s a good man. A good leader. And he loves that little foundling with a love that’s dangerous for anyone willing to get between them.”

“I would never do that,” you said quietly. “They belong together.”

“I’m not saying you would, but you’re quickly becoming someone he shares that same type of devotion for.” She reached out and took the mudhorn pendant around your neck between her thumb and index finger, a smile beginning up her face, her voice softening to something almost friendly. “And I’m beginning to understand why.”

Taking the mudhorn between your own fingers as you looked at it, you grinned. “Just a few days ago he couldn’t stand me, believe it or not.”

“Not,” Fennec huffed on a laugh, turning to look at you after another moment of silence. “I’ve known Mando for a while now, and he’s just…. like that. It’s hard for him to show his emotions sometimes. Boba, too. The way they grew up…. Well, I don’t have to tell you. I’m assuming you probably had the same type of childhood.”

Hesitating, you finally nodded briefly, looking down to your hands in your lap where you sat on the floor beside her.

“They don’t trust easily, they love fiercely, and they don’t do anything halfway. It’s all they’ve known. If you’re lucky enough to be welcomed into their circle,” she tugged the pendant lightly, “into their family,” she sat back as she continued, “there’s something special they see in you, something worthwhile, and you just need to keep being yourself to live up to that everyday.”

When you lifted your visor back up to meet her eyes, she smiled kindly.

“So, like I said, not. He was probably just watching and waiting for the right time.”

“Grogu is my little shadow. I think he was just relieved someone bought him five minutes alone.”

She threw her head back and laughed, her hand lightly gripping your upper arm. When her gaze landed back on you, a mischievous smirk took over her features. “I could be wrong. Maybe he was just waiting to ask you to be a babysitter full time,” you snickered, “but I’m thinking that signet tells a different story.”

Fennec reached into her pocket for her comm, mumbling something about needing to call Boba, but you held up your hand to stop her. “I have a secure connection straight to the comm in Mando’s helmet. Guaranteed private, and he’s with Boba. Let me call him and relay the information.”

She nodded, tucking her comm back into her belt.

Pressing the side of your helmet, you waited until you heard it connect. “Mando?”

“Ti? Everything alright?”

Pressing a button on your vambrace to project the conversation through your modulator so Fennec could hear, too, you nodded. “Yeah, we’re fine. We found the credits. What should we do now?”

“Hold on, I’ll ask him.” Silence filled the room before he came back. “How much is there?”

“Enough to fund your life on the run for over a decade, comfortably,” Fennec said dryly, her eyes darting across the pile of credits as she did some quick math. “Very comfortably.”

Silence again filled the line as you assumed he was relaying the amount to Boba in a much more concise manner. Finally his voice crackled back over the line. “He said he’ll send the Mods to come pick it up. Wait for them then leave and go back to the hangar when they get there.”

“They don’t need protection?” You had no idea who they were, but this was a lot of money to just let someone move without any sort of backup.

Fennec grinned. “They can take care of themselves.”

Xxx

The Mods dropped it off at the hangar a few hours later and left, leaving the five of you standing around the two containers, staring in silence at the mass of credits just sitting there.

Peli let out a low whistle like you had when you’d found the stash.

“How does someone steal this much and not get noticed?” Din’s voice was thick with disbelief.

“Little by little,” you answered, looking up at him when you felt his visor turn to you.

Looking at him for the first time today without your own visor in the way, you scanned over his armor, noticing a few scorch marks, and some scuff marks near his jet pack.

You smiled. “Those Jawas really did a number on you, didn’t they?” Reaching out, you tried to rub one of the scuffs away with your glove, digging your thumb into his beskar.

Reaching up, he grabbed your wrist gently, turning it toward him with a soft grunt. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he grumbled, untying the knot he’d tied to keep your glove on earlier. He pulled something out of the pouch on his belt and began attaching it. “Fixed this for you.” When he let his hands fall to his sides after he finished, you saw it was the buckle he’d torn off this morning. “Don’t let R5 get this one,” he joked.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, looking up at him with a smile as he nodded at you before he turned back to the pile of credits. Your eyes darted across the containers in front of you to find Fennec already looking at you, a sly smirk already firmly on her face.

“Told ya,” she said lightly.

“What?” Boba asked, looking across his shoulder at her.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his. “Nothing. I was just saying,” she gestured to the credits, her gaze falling back to them before lifting to yours. “I told ya it’s a lot.”

Boba nodded, turning back to the credits, not noticing the look Fennec gave you, eyebrows raised. “I’ve not heard anything about this money going missing from the other families. It could be they are just keeping it quiet, in which case, letting them know you know is just adding another enemy to your list.”

Din looked between the older man and Fennec. “So what do we do?”

Shrugging, Boba looked at him as if the answer were obvious. “Keep it.”

As he took a few steps back, Din shook his head, lifting his hands to begin gesturing as he spoke. “No. Absolutely not. We don’t need this much.”

Shrugging yet again, Boba sighed, arms crossing over his chest as he stared at the pile of credits like it was a problematic hyperdrive instead of the not so small fortune it was. “Fine.” He let out a breath through his nose. “I’ll take back what was stolen from me.”

Din took the few steps back toward the pile he’d pulled away. “That still is beyond too much.”

Turning to your friend who had been silent this whole exchange, you began speaking before either of the other Mandalorians could start in again. “Peli?” Her head snapped up to look at you, eyes wide. Separating a small stack of credits from the pile, you pushed them her way with the toe of your boot. “Would this cover your hangar fees for say, a year?”

Eyes wide, Peli gulped as she stared at the smaller pile, her gaze darting back up to yours as she nodded emphatically. “And then some.”

“Good.” Breaking off another pile just a bit larger, you added it to the first, Peli’s eyes going comically larger still. “Consider this payment for babysitting up till now, and keeping you on retainer for whenever we need to stop by, storing the N1, and watching Grogu.”

Peli stammered for a moment, her mouth opening and closing as she stared at the small mountain of credits at her feet. Her eyes lifted to meet yours before they shot to Din, then the child sleeping soundly in her arms before landing back on the credits, nodding rapidly again. “As far as I’m concerned, this makes us square.” She studied the pile for a moment, before adding softly, “For life.”

Din pulled his hand down the front of his helmet, letting out a sigh of exasperation “That still leaves quite a bit.”

You shrugged like Boba had, making the man chuckle. “Running isn’t cheap.”

With a heavy sigh, Din finally nodded, his hands resting on his hips, shaking his head as he continued to stare at the pile. “We still use it sparingly.”

You nodded. “Agreed.” He turned to look at you one more time. “We have to save some for the foundlings.”

“The foundlings are the future,” Din said quietly in agreement. “This is the way.”

All five of you turned away from the credits for the first time since they arrived, looking at Grogu where he slept in the cradle Peli had just set him in.

“This is the way.” The smile on your face that only came in the presence of the child wasn’t going anywhere. “The future is in amazing hands, then.”

“The best,” Din concurred.

Xxx

“Drop by anytime!” Peli called after Boba and Fennec, waving at them as they walked down the street after leaving the hangar. “Just remember to use the door next time. Maybe?” She flicked her wrist in front of her. “Bah. They heard me.”

Laughing softly, you gestured Grogu’s cradle up the ramp of the Crest, walking alongside it until you got to the bunk. Turning to lift him up, you set him in his hammock before gesturing the now empty cradle over to the corner.

Closing the door to the bunk, you turned to find Din just coming up the top of the ramp.

“He’s down.” You stretched, hands on your back as you let out a loud yawn. “And honestly I’m not that far behind him.” You smiled at the sound of Din’s chuckle. “Did the credits get stored?”

He nodded. “Yeah, they’re right there, below the bunks. It’s a false bottom.”

“Sounds good,” you yawned again. “Well, I’m gonna head to bed-”

“Wait,” he stopped you, making you turn back to face him from the small bit you’d already turned away. “I have something for you.”

He made his way over to another crate along the wall, and pulled out a bundle wrapped in the tarp you’d used to cover the pieces of the Amban rifle.

“While Boba was looking at the Crest yesterday, I asked him if he could help me get my hands on this for you. It needs a good cleaning, like everything else on this planet, but it’s in good shape, all the same.”

He pulled the material away from the object, and your breath caught in your chest.

A raw beskar jet pack, like his own.

“How-”

“They didn’t know what they had.” Repeating your words about the Amban rifle as he looked at the jet pack for a long moment, he tightened his grip on it, his leather gloves creaking in protest. Lifting his gaze to yours, he held it as he gently set the gift in your hands. “But I do.”

The meaning of his words is not lost on you. He wasn’t talking about the jet pack anymore, at least not just about that. It was as close to a complement as he was going to get, and that made a smirk start to twist up the side of your face.

Reaching behind you to attach the jet pack, Din reached out and pulled your cape gently to the side out of your way, releasing it when it sealed with a whirr.

“How fortunate for me, then.” Your voice was soft, much softer than you intended, but it fit.

Everything about this moment seemed fragile, precarious. But at the same time, something about it also seemed forged of steel, tempered and holding steady in the strongest of tests.

“Indeed.” He was smiling, you could tell.

It had only been days of truly spending time with him, but something about Din just clicked. You could read one another under the beskar or from across the city over a comm. Never had you felt so in tune with another being, and it felt like something special.

“Thank you.”

He nodded.

It was unexpected, but you found yourself wrapping him in a quick embrace, arms around his neck as you pulled him close. He went stiff at first, but soon melted into the touch, his arms wrapping around your middle and pulling you impossibly closer still. Tightening your grip around him, you mumbled another thank you into his neck, the fabric of his flight suit rough against your skin as you pressed even closer, sighing into the warmth that was him.

This was different. This was new. It was exciting. But also terrifying.

Your feelings seemed to have gone rogue, pulling you into him without your permission, and keeping you there. But then again, his seemed to be doing the same, if the way his hands were spreading across the expanse of your back below the jet pack was any indication. It was drawing you both in, and holding you tight, not giving an inch.

Growing up in a society that kept a barrier between you and everyone else, it was just inherent to keep your distance. And you didn’t realize until right now, faced with what you’d been blatantly denied, that you realized just how much you needed it. Like the jet pack, it finally made you feel complete, the missing pieces falling into place to paint a beautiful picture of what could be if you just…. Let it.

Pulling back to look up into his visor, you smiled, hands falling to rest on his arms. “No, really. Thank you.” You gave him a gentle squeeze. “For everything.”

“I’d say you’re welcome, but since it’s your job to keep me alive, let’s just call it even.”

You narrowed your brows at him. “I’m good at my job.”

He chuckled softly. “And that’s the second time today you’ve said that.”

“And counting.” You grinned up at him, rolling your eyes when he groaned. Taking a few steps back, you headed for the ramp of the Crest. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a jet pack to clean up.” You paused after a few steps, your eyes narrowing at him curiously. “Wait. You said you asked him for this before we even agreed to help them?”

Din nodded. “I know it’s something you’ve wanted. The Armorer mentioned as much right before everything happened, something about I needed to sign off on something…. I don’t know, to be honest, I hardly listened sometimes. It was all a bit….”

“Much?” You offered.

He sighed. “Yeah. Too much. One of the only things that helped make it easier was you, actually.”

You scoffed. “I thought for sure you hated me.”

He let out a huff. “Oh, I thought I did.” He shook his head with a chuckle. “Believe me. I tried to convince myself I loathed you. But truthfully? We’re just too much alike, that I was frustrated that you were doing so well at your job and thinking of things before me.”

Grinning, you looked down at your feet before lifting your gaze back up to his visor. “What were the other things? You said that was ‘one of the only’….”

Din sighed, his hands resting on his belt as his weight shifted to one side. “Time with Grogu.”

“Of course,” you said, because obviously.

“And target practice.” You grimaced. “What?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, boss, but…. Right before everything happened, I may have beaten your high score at the range.”

He was silent, his hands moving from his belt to rest on his hips as he stood up straight, visor leveled on you. “You what?”

You began backing up slowly, holding up a finger and lightly waving it at him. “I’m good at what I do, remember?”

“That’s three.”

“No, that’s technically different.” Your feet hit the sand at the bottom of the ramp. Pointing over toward Peli’s shop, you began moving that way. “I’m gonna go get started.”

Din began down the ramp, his tone dry and amused. “Are you going to paint it? I can go get some tomorrow.”

Looking at him over your shoulder, you shook your head, scrunching your face up at the thought. “Nah. I think the raw beskar looks best. Plus it matches yours.”

Din shifted his weight to one side. “You want ours to look the same?”

You shrugged. “I like people knowing who I belong to.” Turning back to face the workshop, you went on. “Let’s make clan mudhorn…. What was the word Boba used for the ship? Ah! Sparkle.” You chuckled. “Shiny big ship, shiny tiny ship, shiny big Mando, shiny smaller Mando…. You see the theme?” Looking back over your shoulder, the smirk slid off your face when you didn’t see Din anywhere in the hangar. “Great. I’m talking to myself.”

With a sigh, you turned back toward the work area, only to run straight into a wall of beskar. “Dank farrik, Din!”

“If you belong to clan mudhorn, you’re not going to be sparkling.” Din unfastened your jet pack. “You’ll be dral.” He set it to the side. “Dralshy'a - ori'shya ka'ra.” (“Glowing.”) (“Brighter - more than stars.”)

You grinned. “Ni emuurir gar jate'shya.” (“I like yours better.”)

Xxx

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