#I swear my ships changed every scene

[cookiiefreak]

Meeting the Lamb

you heard of knight!reader and protégée!reader now get ready for sacrificial lamb!reader!!!! wooo 🎉🎉🎉

i am feral, unhinged, and a tad evil <3

word count: 1,827

ship: Burning Spice x Sacrificial Lamb!reader

additional tags: mentions of sacrifice, brief descriptions of violence, reader wants to KILL HIM and BS thinks it’s funny (and hot), reader thinks BS is attractive but hates it, LOTS OF SWEARING, you can tell this was written by a horny mf

⚠️ MINORS DNI ⚠️

———

When Burning Spice hears that the elders from some nearby village have offered him a sacrifice in exchange for mercy on their homes, he’s intrigued. He hasn’t had someone offered to him in quite a while so he decides to humor the elders and make his way to the altar sight. It has been decently cleaned and decorated with candles, trinkets, and other treats but his eyes zone in on the lovely creature chained down to the middle of the altar space.

You.

But you’re not lying there whimpering and weeping like some helpless prey animal, no, you’re actively fighting back against your shackles and attempting to attack the spice warriors that stand patiently nearby. Teeth bared and eyes wild as you struggle and shout obscenities at everyone in the area, the center of the altar where you’re at is coated in dried blood and dirt from previous sacrifices but you don’t seem to care about the muck, all you are focused on is escaping the hell you’ve been trapped in and it EXCITES him.

When was the last time someone actively challenged him? When was the last time he saw someone fighting to change their fate rather than simply kneel in front of him and beg for mercy?

Then your eyes land on him and he feels his insides boil at the searing heat held in your glare.

“You… You bastard!” You scream, straining against your restraints like a feral animal. “Once I get out of these witch-forsaken chains, I’m going to rip that tainted soul jam out of your chest!”

Burning Spice slowly makes his way towards you as a few of the warriors berate you for your threat, but to him their words are muffled under the oppressing sound of his own heartbeat. He stops just out of your reach and looms over your form, watching with unbridled glee as you stand up and press back against his menacing stare.

“What did you say, little lamb?” He asks, grinning as your chains rattle with every rough jerk of your limbs.

“I said, when I get out of here, I am going to fucking kill you and coat your beloved throne in your own filthy blood.” You talk slowly, making sure to enunciate each word as if he was stupid, which has his body thrumming with ecstasy.

“Oh? Really? And how are you going to manage that, hm?” Your eye twitches at his mockery before you lunge for him, teeth aching to dig into his flesh and rip until there’s nothing left but you simply strain against the weight of the chains. You’re yanked backwards by your hair and slammed on the ground face first, harsh words are spat down at your form as your world becomes faded and dizzy.

He watches the spectacle with mild interest, mind already mulling over a decision. You’d make a wonderful addition to his army, you’re bloodthirsty, aggressive, you could wreak havoc on the battlefield and bring chaos to any village he orders you to pillage. But while that sounds enticing in his mind, he would be at the risk of you dissenting and possibly even backstabbing him.

So what is he to do? It would be such a waste to simply kill you: Watching as you sluggishly stand before clocking a nearby warrior in the nose just confirms that fact. He bursts out in wild laughter at both the scene and the conclusion in his mind.

“Having a good laugh at the spectacle before you kill me? You sick fuck,” you growl as blood steadily slinks down over your mouth to your chin before dripping to the ground.

“Yeah, I could kill you. But why would I want to kill my brand new pet?”

“Y-Your what?” You gape at his statement, the spice warriors all seem to have the same reaction as you due to their collective hushed whispering.

“Pet. P-e-t. Do you not know what a pet is?” He murmurs and carefully reaches out to wipe the blood from your lip with his thumb, staring at the glistening red life source soaking the skin of his digit before dragging his tongue across it.

It makes your stomach churn with disgust. Or is that…?

“Tch. I know what a pet is, but I am not one. I’d rather get sent into the nearest sand pit,” you huff indignantly.

“Adorable, but you have no say in what I do, little lamb.” Burning Spice swiftly unlocks the chains around your wrists and ankles before picking you up by the back of your sacrificial garment and hoisting you up onto his broad shoulder, he shouts a command to his warriors and they follow him out of the altar sight.

“Put me down! You damn meathead!” You protest loudly, fists pounding against his back as he walks proudly towards his kingdom. After a few minutes he gives an order to one of his warriors before dismissing the rest of them and continues walking, turning down a couple of corridors before finally entering the room he was looking for. You let out a harsh yelp as he casually drops you down onto a massive bed, the force of it knocking the wind out of you.

He crosses his arms over his chest as he watches you lay there, chest stuttering and heaving as you struggle to bring air back into your lungs. You must feel his leering at some point because you manage to claw your way into an upright position and glare back at him, skin prickling with rage as you continue sucking in oxygen. He tilts his head as if to challenge your hostility but you’re not stupid, trying to fight the Beast of Destruction unarmed and in an unfamiliar location would be suicide. At least you knew where to go and what paths to take back at the altar sight, but here? In his kingdom? You were practically blind.

“What’s the matter? Lost your moxie?” Burning Spice chuckles and you immediately want to punch that irritating grin off of his face, you let out a sound that has his stomach clenching with desire.

You growled.

It wasn’t deep or dark sounding, but it resonated within your chest and practically vibrated through the heat-filled air. He lets out a breath of a laugh.

“A lamb who tries to imitate the wolves, how endearing.”

“We’ll see how much of a lamb I am once I shred your throat with my fucking teeth,” you retort.

“Go ahead,” he opens his arms wide as if inviting you. “You have an opening, so why don’t you strike already?” You halt and ponder his words thoroughly before crawling towards the foot of the bed and sliding down onto the floor, your eyes narrow as you take in his figure.

“…what’s your motive?” You ask, fingers flexing and legs twitching as if preparing your fight or flight reflexes. “Why didn’t you accept me as a sacrifice and kill me?”

“I told you, I don’t kill my pets.” His response is clipped and almost sharp but he doesn’t make a move, feet planted firmly in their spot.

“What the hell do you mean by that? What do you want with a pet?” He lets out a groan and rolls his eyes at your questioning, arms falling to his sides as he does so.

“If you keep asking me so many damn questions, I’m just going to muzzle you.” That seems to rile you up as you squawk at the statement, a flush crossing your cheeks at the implications.

“Like hell you will! I’m not some damn animal, you crazy bitch!” You holler, body reacting in an instant as he begins to stalk towards you. You’re quick to side step him and reel your hand back, curled fist colliding with his stomach yet the impact causes you to let out a pained cry. He barks out a laugh and grabs you by your wrist before twisting it harshly behind your back, using his free hand to grab you by your hair and shove your face into the bed. You can feel his body heat radiating off of him in steady waves, your brain unknowing if it wants to fight back or give in to the warmth that threatens to turn you docile.

He lets the overwhelming silence drag on for a while longer as if to tempt you to struggle back against him but a series of knocks on the door has him huffing out a breath and releasing you, your knees drop onto the harsh floor and you clutch your sore wrist to your chest utterly humiliated as he stomps towards the door and throws it open.

“M-My apologies for interrupting you, sir! I brought you what you asked for,” the spice warrior on the other side of the doorway is practically shaking under the Destroyer’s horrifying glare. Burning Spice wordlessly grabs the item from them before promptly slamming the door in their face, you watch as he turns back to face you before opening the intricate box in his hands and carefully pulling out a thick, dark leather collar.

“If that’s what I think it’s for, forget it.” You hiss at him, “I’d rather you stomp my brains out then wear that around my fucking neck.”

“You’re rather mouthy for a mortal who could barely follow through with their punch,” he teases.

“Tch, you’re just lucky I didn’t aim for your dick.” You try to move out of his reach but he already has a hand wrapped around your throat causing you to freeze in place, he catches a glimpse of frightened doe eyes but blinks and a sharpened glare replaces them.

“I have rules you will follow if you wish to stay alive and in one piece: wearing this is one of them.”

“Fucking dehumanizing piece of shit,” you mumble under your breath. He waves off your swearing as he releases your throat and begins fastening the collar around your neck, you observe him quietly as he goes through the motions.

He has eyebrows that are thick yet neat with long eyelashes that curl and flutter in a horrifyingly beautiful way, his nose is sharp and his lips are damn-near enticing, with the bottom one being slightly more full than the top. Two sharp antennae jut out from his forehead and seem to curl down towards you as he loops the strap of the collar down. You briefly debate headbutting him in the nose due to your lingering, almost salacious thoughts, but the throbbing in your wrist and nose stops you, your energy is already drained from when they first dragged you to the altar sight.

You’re basically running on fumes at this point.

Maybe if you play your cards right, you’ll eventually find an opening to escape to somewhere far away from here. Away from your treacherous village, away from his bloodsoaked kingdom, and away from him. Until then, you’ll just have to play along.

[velvetvisionsaurora]

Pairing: Hongjoong x reader, Seonghwa x reader, Yunho x reader, Mingi x reader, Wooyoung x reader.

Summary: Five eight-year-old boys aboard the slave ship Crimson Serpent form an unbreakable bond with five-year-old y/n. before she's sold at auction. Despite their failed rescue attempt, they swear a blood oath on her teddy bear to find her.Fifteen years later, now feared pirates leading the ATEEZ

Warnings: Slavery/Human Trafficking, Separation/Loss, Violence, Eventual Smut. SA(not by any main characters) mxm

<<Previous Next>>

Masterlist

Chapter 16

Recovery

Morning sunlight streamed through the large windows of Yeosang's medical suite, casting a warm glow across the polished wooden floors and pristine white linens. Unlike the cramped medical bay aboard the ATEEZ, this space had been designed with both functionality and comfort in mind—high ceilings, ample natural light, and enough room for proper equipment without feeling clinical or sterile.

Y/n paused at the doorway, taking in the scene before her. Mingi was propped up against several pillows on a bed that actually accommodated his tall frame, unlike the narrow treatment table on the ship. His eyes were closed, but his breathing indicated he was merely resting rather than sleeping.

The change in him after just one night in proper accommodations was remarkable. Color had returned to his face, and though bandages still wrapped his torso, the tension of constant pain had eased from his features. Even in repose, he looked more like himself—the quiet strength that defined him evident in his relaxed posture.

"Are you going to stand there all day, or come in?" Mingi asked without opening his eyes, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Y/n smiled, not surprised he'd sensed her presence. "I was wondering if you were asleep."

"Just enjoying the quiet," he replied, opening his eyes to look at her. His gaze was clearer than it had been since the injury, alert and present in a way that relieved her more than she'd expected. "Yeosang doesn't hover as much here. Too many rooms to organize."

She approached the bed, noting the various wooden carvings that had already found their way to his bedside table—likely brought from his workshop by Yunho or one of the others. "You look better."

"Feel better," Mingi agreed with his characteristic economy of words. His eyes followed her as she settled into the chair beside his bed. "You got my ship?"

Y/n reached into her pocket and withdrew the small wooden ATEEZ Yunho had delivered to her the previous day. "It's beautiful. Thank you."

Mingi nodded, satisfaction evident in his expression. "Wanted you to have something. To mark the journey."

"Yunho told me you made it while you were still in the ship's medical bay," she said, running her thumb over the intricate detailing of the tiny vessel. "You shouldn't have been working while injured."

"Needed to." The simple statement contained volumes, his eyes holding hers with quiet intensity.

"I know," Y/n acknowledged, understanding the deeper meaning behind his words. Like Seonghwa with his precise arrangements and Wooyoung with his exuberant cooking, Mingi communicated most authentically through his craft. The wooden ship was more than just a gift—it was a statement, a welcome, a physical manifestation of his feelings that went beyond what words could express.

"Your room," Mingi said after a moment. "Does it suit you?"

The question sounded casual, but Y/n recognized the vulnerability beneath it. Of all the areas in their home, her room had been the one where Mingi's influence was most evident—from the carved animals on every surface to the intricate woodwork on the bed frame and furniture.

"It's perfect," she assured him, reaching out to take his hand. "I've never had a space like that before. Something created just for me, with such thought and care."

"Good," he said, satisfaction evident in his tone. His fingers curled around hers, warm and slightly calloused from years of working with wood and metal. "We built it for you. From the first stone."

The simple statement brought a lump to her throat. "Yunho told me. Five years ago."

Mingi nodded. "Fifteen years searching. Needed somewhere for you to come home to. Even if we never found you."

"But you did find me," she said softly.

"You found us," he corrected, a hint of humor lighting his usually solemn eyes. "At an auction. Very efficient."

Y/n laughed, the sound echoing pleasantly in the sun-filled room. "I suppose I did. After you all spent fifteen years searching, I just walked right into your path."

"Worth every minute," Mingi said, his voice dropping lower as his eyes held hers. The simple statement contained no flourish, no theatrical presentation like Wooyoung might have delivered, no careful phrasing like Seonghwa would have chosen. Just pure, unvarnished truth.

Y/n felt her heart beat faster at the intensity in his gaze. Unlike their interrupted encounter in the medical bay, there was no urgency here—just quiet certainty and a depth of feeling that transcended their fifteen-year separation.

"How's your injury?" she asked, partly to focus on something tangible amid the emotional current flowing between them.

"Healing," Mingi replied, shifting slightly to a more comfortable position. "Slower than I want. Faster than Yeosang expected."

"He mentioned the facilities here would help," Y/n remarked, glancing around at the well-equipped room.

"Better than swaying on a ship," Mingi agreed. "And I can work from here soon. My workshop is close."

The mention of his workshop sparked her curiosity. "Is that part of the house?"

A small smile touched his lips—a rare expression that transformed his solemn features. "No. Better. Come see when I'm stronger. Built it myself. Into the cliff."

"Into the cliff?" Y/n repeated, intrigued by both the concept and the enthusiasm in his usually measured voice.

"Natural cave," Mingi explained. "Expanded it. Perfect workshop. Water access below for testing mechanisms. Privacy for experimental designs."

The description painted a vivid picture—a space carved from living rock, a sanctuary where Mingi could create without constraints or interruptions. A place as unique as the man himself.

"I look forward to seeing it," she said sincerely.

They fell into comfortable silence, the kind that had always existed between them even aboard The Crimson Serpent. Unlike the others, Mingi simply accepted stillness as its own form of communication. It was one of the things that had drawn Y/n to him as a child—his willingness to just be present without demanding speech or performance.

Mingi's thumb traced idle patterns on the back of her hand, his gaze thoughtful as he studied her. "You and Seonghwa," he said finally, no judgment in his tone. "Wooyoung mentioned."

"Yes," Y/n confirmed, not surprised by the directness of his observation. "Does that bother you?"

He considered this for a moment, his expression contemplative rather than troubled. "No," he decided. "Different connections. All important."

The simple assessment cut through what might have been a complex emotional tangle for others. Unlike conventional expectations where such relationships would be seen as competitive or exclusive, Mingi approached the situation with the same straightforward clarity he applied to his mechanical designs—seeing patterns and connections where others might see conflict or contradiction.

"You and Yunho too?" he asked, again without accusation or jealousy.

Y/n felt her cheeks warm slightly, but she met his gaze directly. "Yes, though not in the same way. We... talked. And other things."

Mingi nodded, acceptance rather than resignation in the gesture. "Makes sense. You're the center."

"The center?" she repeated, not quite understanding.

"Of the compass," he explained, making a five-pointed star gesture with his free hand. "Balance."

The imagery struck her forcefully—the same compass design that had become their symbol, the five points representing the five officers arranged protectively around a central point. Mingi saw their current situation not as a romantic complication but as the natural fulfillment of a pattern established fifteen years earlier.

"Is that how you all see it?" she asked, genuinely curious if this perspective was shared among them.

"Don't know," Mingi admitted. "Don't discuss feelings much. But makes sense to me. How we've always been arranged."

His honesty touched her deeply. There was no manipulation in his assessment, no attempt to claim exclusive connection or establish hierarchical importance. Just a recognition of pattern that felt inherently right to him.

"And if I wanted to be with just one of you?" she asked, not because she did, but because she needed to understand the boundaries of his acceptance.

Mingi's dark eyes studied her face for a moment before he answered. "Your choice. Always. Freedom means deciding. Even if it hurts others."

The unconditional nature of his response created unexpected emotion in her chest. After fifteen years where choice had been systematically denied, this simple acknowledgment of her right to decide—even if her decision might cause pain—represented a form of respect deeper than mere desire or affection.

"And if I want to be with all of you, in different ways?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"Then we're fortunate," Mingi replied, his own voice dropping to match hers. "And the compass is complete."

He tugged gently on her hand, drawing her closer to the edge of the bed. Unlike their passionate encounter in the medical bay, this gesture held no urgency—just simple invitation, leaving the choice entirely to her.

Y/n moved from the chair to perch on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb his injured side. This close, she could see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes, the tiny scar above his left eyebrow that had been there even as a child, the subtle lines at the corners of his eyes that spoke of years spent in sun and wind aboard ship.

"I missed you," she whispered, the words containing years of separation. Y/n leaned forward, her lips meeting his in a kiss that held none of the desperate urgency of their interrupted encounter aboard the ATEEZ, but something deeper—recognition, connection, homecoming.

Mingi's hand moved to cradle the back of her neck, his touch gentle despite the strength in his fingers. Mingi kissed her with quiet intensity—present and focused in a way that echoed his approach to everything that mattered to him.

When they finally separated, Y/n remained close, her forehead resting against his. "I should let you rest," she said, though reluctance was evident in her tone.

"Stay," Mingi requested, the single word containing more than mere invitation. "Just talk. Want to hear about you. Years to catch up on."

The request touched her deeply. Unlike potential expectation that might have demanded more physical connection despite his injury, Mingi sought the equally intimate exchange of stories and experiences—connection beyond mere physical presence.

"Where would you like me to start?" she asked, settling more comfortably beside him.

"The beginning," he replied simply. "After the auction."

And so, in the warm morning light of a room designed for healing, Y/n began to share the story she had kept tightly guarded for fifteen years. Not all at once—some chapters would require more time, more trust, more healing before she could speak them aloud. But it was a start—opening doors that captivity had kept firmly locked.

As she spoke, Mingi listened with the same focused attention he gave to everything that mattered to him—present, observant, absorbing each word without judgment or interruption. His hand remained clasped with hers, a physical anchor in the sometimes turbulent waters of memory.

Outside the windows, sunlight danced across the sheltered cove where the ATEEZ rested at anchor. Birds called from the gardens, and distant sounds of activity drifted from other parts of the house—Wooyoung's theatrical exclamations from the kitchen, the rhythmic sound of Seonghwa directing the unloading of supplies, San and Jongho's voices raised in friendly argument about the best way to repair the garden wall.

Life continuing, ordinary and extraordinary all at once, as healing began for both body and spirit in this place that had been created for exactly this purpose—a home where the lost could be found, where the wounded could heal, where the scattered could reunite despite cosmic forces aligned against such possibility.

For Y/n and Mingi, recovery had many meanings beyond the physical mending of injured flesh. And in this sunlit room, the process had truly begun.

"Blackwell kept me for seven years after the auction," Y/n continued, her voice steady despite the weight of the memories. "I was too young to be useful in the way he usually... employed girls. So he decided to train me for domestic service for the time being."

Mingi's hand tightened slightly around hers, a silent acknowledgment of what remained unspoken in that simple statement.

"That's where I met Yeosang," she said, a small smile touching her lips at the memory of her childhood friend. "He was apprenticed to Blackwell's physician. Eight years old and already learning to stitch wounds and set bones."

"You were friends," Mingi observed, not a question but a recognition of a connection he'd noticed aboard the ATEEZ.

"Yes, though we had to be careful about it," Y/n explained. "Blackwell deliberately kept his household isolated from each other. Connection meant resistance, and he couldn't have that."

"But you found ways," Mingi said, understanding flowing beneath the simple statement.

Y/n nodded.

Mingi's expression remained calm, but Y/n could see something shift in his eyes—a deep understanding of what she wasn't explicitly saying. Unlike others who might have pressed for details, Mingi seemed to sense what lay beneath her careful words without requiring her to expose every painful memory.

"The worst part wasn't the work," she continued, needing to explain what had truly damaged her during those years. "It was the constant reinforcement that I was property. Not a person with thoughts or feelings, just an object to be used until I broke or became inconvenient."

"You never broke," Mingi stated with absolute certainty.

"I came close," she admitted, vulnerability flowing without calculation. "Especially after Blackwell sold Yeosang when we were fifteen. He discovered our friendship and decided it was too dangerous to keep us together."

"Seven years you were together," Mingi calculated quickly. "Then separated."

"Yes," Y/n confirmed. "Neither of us knew what happened to the other after that. I was eventually sold to one of his associates and Yeosang..." She hesitated, not wanting to tell Yeosang's story for him. "Well, he had his own journey before joining the ATEEZ."

"He never mentioned knowing you," Mingi said thoughtfully. "Even after two years with us."

"We both learned to keep our histories private," Y/n explained. "Sharing your past makes you vulnerable. And neither of us knew you were looking for me specifically."

Mingi nodded, understanding flowing beneath the simple gesture. "Must have been shock. Recognizing each other aboard the ATEEZ."

"It was," she agreed with a soft laugh. "Though Yeosang hid it better than I did. He always had more control."

"When did you tell each other?" Mingi asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

"When Yunho took me to the medical bay for the first time. We recognized each other immediately, but kept it hidden until we could speak privately." She admitted. 

"Explains some things," Mingi mused. "His extra attention to you. Different from how he treats other rescues."

"We protected each other for seven years," Y/n said simply. "That kind of bond doesn't disappear, even with years of separation."

"Like us," Mingi observed, his dark eyes finding hers. "Different people now. But connection remains."

The parallel struck her forcefully. Despite the different circumstances of their separations, both relationships had survived against impossible odds—bonds formed in childhood proving strong enough to withstand time and distance.

"Yes," she agreed softly. "Like us."

A comfortable silence settled between them, filled with the gentle sounds of morning and the distant activity of the household. Mingi's thumb traced idle patterns on the back of her hand, his expression contemplative as he processed everything she'd shared.

"Not saying everything," he observed after a while, his tone free of accusation or pressure. "Some wounds still private. Understand."

His perception—that he recognized she was holding parts of her story back without demanding she expose them—created a surge of gratitude in her chest. Unlike an approach that might have pressed for complete disclosure or offered false reassurance, Mingi simply acknowledged what he saw without judgment or expectation.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For understanding that some stories take time to tell."

Mingi nodded, his dark eyes holding hers with quiet intensity. "When ready. If ever. Your choice."

The simple acknowledgment of her freedom, touched Y/n deeply. After being denied any choices, this recognition of her right to decide what she shared and when represented connection and respect. 

"Build something for you," he said after a moment, his tone shifting to something lighter. "When I can work again. Something special. For your room."

"You've already made me so many beautiful things," Y/n protested gently, gesturing to the wooden ship in her hand and thinking of the countless carved animals that decorated her new bedroom.

"Different," Mingi insisted. "Something new. To mark new beginning."

His determination brought a smile to her face. "What did you have in mind?"

A rare, full smile transformed his usually solemn features. "Surprise," he declared, an uncharacteristic playfulness in his eyes. "Need to design first. Test ideas."

"Now I'm intrigued," Y/n admitted, charmed by his enthusiasm.

"Good," Mingi replied with obvious satisfaction. "Like when you watched me carve as children. Same curiosity. Same eyes."

The observation—that he recognized something of the child she had been in the woman before him—created a warmth that spread throughout her chest. Unlike potential focus solely on how she had changed, Mingi saw continuity beneath transformation—essential aspects that had survived despite fifteen years of systematic attempts at erasure.

Before she could respond, the medical suite door opened to admit Yeosang, carrying a tray of supplies for changing Mingi's bandages.

"I see my patient is awake and talking," he observed with professional satisfaction. "A significant improvement from yesterday."

"Good company helps," Mingi replied, his gaze remaining on Y/n.

"I can imagine," Yeosang said, his typically composed expression softening as he looked between them. His eyes met Y/n’s with the silent understanding that had characterized their connection since childhood—recognition flowing without requiring words.

"Did he behave himself?" Yeosang asked her, a hint of warmth breaking through his professional demeanor.

"Perfectly," Y/n assured him with a smile. "Though he's making mysterious promises about building me something once he's recovered."

"As long as 'building' doesn't involve getting out of bed before I approve it," Yeosang replied, giving Mingi a pointed look that held equal parts warning and affection.

"Reasonable condition," Mingi conceded with the barest hint of a smile.

Yeosang set his tray on the bedside table, their familiar interaction speaking of the bond they'd formed over the two years Yeosang had served aboard the ATEEZ. Despite their different temperaments—Yeosang's precise formality and Mingi's quiet intensity—there was genuine respect flowing between them.

"I need to change his dressings," Yeosang explained to Y/n, his voice gentler than his typical professional tone. "You're welcome to stay if you'd like, but it might be more comfortable for everyone if you return later."

Where others might have simply ordered her out or made her feel unwelcome, Yeosang created space for her choice while acknowledging practical reality.

"I should let you work," she agreed, rising from her seat. "And I promised Wooyoung I'd visit him in the kitchen once I'd checked on you."

When she leaned down to place a gentle kiss on Mingi's forehead, Yeosang turned away slightly, busying himself with arranging his supplies—a small gesture that offered them privacy without making an obvious show of it. The subtle consideration brought a smile to her lips.

"Come back later?" Mingi asked, his dark eyes holding hers.

"Of course," she promised, giving his hand one final squeeze before releasing it.

As she reached the door, she paused to look back. Yeosang had moved to Mingi's side, his hands already unwrapping the old bandages with practiced efficiency. Despite his professional focus, he glanced up and caught her watching, a small smile softening his features.

"He'll be here when you return," Yeosang assured her, understanding without being told what she needed to hear. "And in slightly better condition, if I have anything to say about it."

"I'm counting on it, Angel," she replied, using the childhood nickname that had once been their secret in Blackwell's household.

Something flashed in Yeosang's eyes—recognition, warmth, shared memory—before he dipped his head in acknowledgment. "I've never let you down before, have I?"

"Not once," she confirmed, the simple truth encompassing seven years of childhood protection and their recent reunion aboard the ATEEZ.

With a final nod that contained promise rather than merely acknowledgment, Y/n slipped through the door, leaving Mingi to Yeosang's capable care.

One conversation, one connection, one day at a time.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Y/n followed the sound of clattering pots and theatrical exclamations to the kitchen. Unlike the cramped galley aboard the ATEEZ, this space was expansive and sun-filled, with large windows overlooking the gardens and multiple workstations designed to accommodate several people cooking at once. Copper pots hung from a rack overhead, and open shelves displayed an impressive collection of herbs and spices arranged in rainbow order rather than alphabetically—Wooyoung's doing, no doubt.

The cook himself stood at the center island, dramatically waving a whisk in one hand while tasting something from a wooden spoon with his other. Three different pots simmered on the massive stove behind him, and the air was filled with the mingled aromas of cinnamon, cardamom, and something citrusy Y/n couldn't immediately identify.

"This," Wooyoung declared to no one in particular, "is an absolute TRAVESTY! How can I be expected to create culinary masterpieces without proper saffron? That shipment from the eastern markets was clearly mislabeled!"

He hadn't noticed her arrival, too caught up in his passionate soliloquy to the spices. Y/n leaned against the doorframe, enjoying the opportunity to watch him unobserved. There was something endearingly authentic about Wooyoung's theatrical nature—unlike the calculated performances she'd witnessed during her years in captivity, his expressiveness flowed naturally, without manipulation or hidden agenda.

"Cinnamon, my faithful friend," he continued, addressing a jar of spice with earnest intensity, "you must bear more of the aromatic burden today. Can I count on you to rise to this momentous occasion?"

Y/n couldn't contain her laughter any longer. "Does the cinnamon usually answer back?" she asked, pushing away from the doorframe and entering the kitchen.

Wooyoung whirled around, surprise quickly giving way to delight. "Little bird! My savior! My muse! The only person in this house who truly appreciates the ARTISTRY required in my domain!" He swept into an elaborate bow, narrowly avoiding knocking over a bowl of what appeared to be cake batter. "And yes, the cinnamon frequently consults on important culinary decisions. Unlike SOME people, it never suggests I'm using too much spice."

"High praise from a jar of bark," Y/n observed, walking closer to inspect the bubbling pots. "What are you making that requires such intense negotiations with your spice collection?"

"Only the most magnificent welcome feast in the history of piracy!" Wooyoung declared, spinning back to his workstation with fluid grace. "Fifteen years of missed celebrations, condensed into one glorious evening of culinary ecstasy!”

His enthusiasm was contagious, bringing a smile to Y/n’s face. "You've been planning a meal for me?"

"Meals are memories made manifest," Wooyoung said, his theatrical delivery not diminishing the genuine sentiment behind his words. "Each dish tells a story—where we've been, what we've seen, how far we've come. And YOUR story, my dear, deserves nothing less than my absolute best."

He handed her a spoon dipped in something golden and fragrant. "Taste. It's honey from the islands where we first started tracking rumors of a girl sold at auction in Halazia."

Y/n accepted the spoon, the sweet flavor blooming on her tongue with unexpected complexity. "It's wonderful," she said, genuine appreciation in her voice. "I've never tasted honey like this."

"The bees feed on flowers that only grow on volcanic soil," Wooyoung explained, a rare moment of straightforward information without theatrical embellishment. Then, just as quickly, his dramatic persona returned. "Now! Since you've graciously offered your assistance, I shall put you to work! These spices need grinding, and I trust no one else with proper measurement."

"I don't recall actually offering—" Y/n began, amusement warming her voice.

"Details, details!" Wooyoung waved dismissively. "You're here, I'm here, CLEARLY the universe has aligned to place you at my culinary disposal!"

As he arranged various spices and a mortar and pestle before her, Y/n noticed something she might have missed in the past—beneath his exuberant exterior, Wooyoung was watching her carefully, gauging her reactions, adjusting his energy to match her comfort level. Unlike the overbearing personalities she'd encountered during captivity, his theatrical nature contained genuine awareness of others—performance with perception rather than merely seeking attention.

They worked side by side for several comfortable minutes, Wooyoung chattering about his garden and the new varieties of herbs he'd planted during their absence, Y/n grinding spices with the careful precision that years of domestic service had ingrained in her. The familiar motions were oddly comforting—similar actions but in an entirely different context, freely chosen rather than compelled.

"You're good at that," Wooyoung observed, momentarily setting aside his dramatic persona as he watched her hands work the pestle. "Your wrist motion is perfect."

"Years of practice," Y/n replied without elaboration. She didn't need to explain; they both understood what those years had entailed.

Wooyoung's expression softened, his usual animation giving way to something more genuine. "I used to imagine finding you in kitchens wherever we went," he admitted. "I'd walk into taverns and merchant houses when we were gathering intelligence, and my eyes would always go to the kitchen staff first. Looking for a girl, then a young woman, with your particular way of moving."

The simple confession—delivered without his usual theatrics—touched something deep within Y/n. Unlike elaborate declarations, this quiet admission revealed the reality of their fifteen-year search—the constant looking, the persistent hope despite repeated disappointment.

"Did you ever come close?" she asked.

"Once," he said, stirring one of his pots with uncharacteristic stillness. "Four years ago, in a northern port. There was a girl with your coloring working in a merchant's kitchen. I watched her for hours, trying to decide if it was you. She had a similar way of breaking bread—always in half before eating."

"What happened?" Y/n asked softly, recognizing the weight of the memory in his unusually subdued tone.

"I finally approached her," Wooyoung continued. "Asked about her past. She'd been born in that port, never traveled south. Had a whole family there—parents, siblings. It wasn't you." He looked up, meeting her eyes with rare seriousness. "I think that was the closest Seonghwa came to giving up. He'd been so sure from my description... the disappointment hit him hardest."

The glimpse into their years of searching—the hope, the disappointment, the persistence despite repeated failure—created an unexpected knot in Y/n’s throat. These men hadn't just made a childhood promise; they had actively pursued it through years of increasing difficulty, refusing to abandon their oath despite every reason to believe it was futile.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"For what?" Wooyoung asked, genuine surprise breaking through his momentary solemnity.

"For all those years of searching. For all those disappointments."

His expression transformed, seriousness giving way to something warmer as he stepped closer. "Don't you understand yet?" he asked, his voice gentler than his usual theatrical delivery. "Finding you now makes every disappointment worth it. Every false lead, every setback, every moment of doubt—they were just parts of the journey that brought us here."

Before she could respond, Wooyoung moved with surprising swiftness, stepping behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. Unlike his usual exaggerated movements, this gesture held a different quality—deliberate rather than impulsive, intentional rather than merely theatrical.

"Besides," he continued, his breath warm against her ear as he rested his chin on her shoulder, "the best stories always have complications before the happy ending. Makes the finale so much more satisfying."

The casual intimacy of his embrace—comfortable yet undeniably purposeful—created a flutter in Y/n’s chest. Unlike the others, Wooyoung's approach carried a playful warmth that somehow made it easier to accept, less weighted with expectation or significance.

"Is this a happy ending, then?" she asked, leaning back slightly into his embrace. "Finding me after fifteen years?"

"Oh no," he replied, his lips brushing against her neck in a touch so light she might have imagined it. "This isn't an ending at all. It's a beginning."

His mouth found her pulse point, pressing a deliberate kiss against the sensitive skin that sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. Y/n’s breath caught, her hands stilling on the mortar and pestle as Wooyoung continued a trail of feather-light kisses along her neck.

"I should warn you," he murmured against her skin, "that unlike our stoic quartermaster or our solemn gunner, I have absolutely no intention of maintaining dignified restraint or composed distance."

Another kiss, this one at the junction of her neck and shoulder, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot in a way that made heat pool low in her belly. "I've spent fifteen years imagining finding you," he continued, one hand leaving her waist to brush her hair aside, exposing more of her neck to his attention. "And in none of those fantasies did I stand politely across the room engaging in profound conversation."

The declaration—playful yet unmistakably sincere—drew a soft laugh from Y/n. Despite the desire building under his touch, there was something refreshingly straightforward about Wooyoung's approach. Where Seonghwa's careful control and Mingi's quiet intensity could feel weighty with significance, Wooyoung's playful directness offered connection without unnecessary complication.

"No profound conversation at all?" she teased, turning in his arms to face him. "Just straight to this?"

"Well," he conceded with an exaggerated thoughtfulness that didn't quite mask the heat in his eyes, "perhaps SOME conversation. I'm quite talented with words, after all. But they'd be considerably less philosophical and significantly more... descriptive."

His hands settled at her waist, thumbs tracing small circles against her ribs as he leaned closer, their faces now inches apart. "For example," he continued, his voice dropping lower, "I could tell you exactly how I've been dreaming of kissing you since you came to us. How I've imagined the taste of your lips, the sound of your breath catching  I—"

Y/n closed the remaining distance between them, cutting off his words with her mouth. Unlike her other encounters aboard the ATEEZ, this time she initiated the contact, choosing rather than responding. The simple act of deciding, of acting on desire rather than calculating advantage, felt like another small reclamation of self after fifteen years of having choices systematically denied.

Wooyoung made a sound of surprise against her lips before immediately responding with enthusiasm, his hands tightening at her waist as he pulled her closer. Where Seonghwa had been precisely controlled and Mingi quietly intense, Wooyoung kissed exactly as one might expect—with theatrical passion that somehow remained genuinely heartfelt, expressive without being overwhelming.

When his tongue traced the seam of her lips, Y/n opened to him without hesitation, her arms winding around his neck as the kiss deepened. He tasted of cinnamon and honey, warmth and spice blending in a combination that seemed perfectly suited to his nature.

Wooyoung backed her slowly toward the massive center island, his hands never leaving her waist as he guided her across the kitchen. When her lower back met the edge of the counter, he lifted her effortlessly to sit on its surface, stepping between her legs without breaking their kiss.

"I should warn you," he murmured against her lips between kisses, "that I have absolutely no intention of stopping unless you tell me to."

His honesty—delivered with characteristic directness despite the playfulness in his tone—gave Y/n a moment of clarity amid building desire. This was her choice, her decision. After fifteen years where such autonomy had been systematically denied, the simple power to say yes or no represented freedom more profound than merely physical pleasure.

"Good," she replied, her fingers threading through his hair as she pulled him back to her. "Because I have absolutely no intention of telling you to stop."

Something flashed in Wooyoung's eyes—heat mingled with something deeper, more significant than mere desire. Then his mouth reclaimed hers with renewed passion, one hand sliding up her back to cradle her head while the other traced the curve of her hip with deliberate appreciation.

Unlike her encounter with Seonghwa, carefully conducted behind closed doors, or her interrupted moment with Mingi in the medical bay, this was happening in the kitchen—the heart of the house, a space anyone might enter at any moment. The thought should have concerned her, yet Y/n found it oddly liberating. After fifteen years of secrecy and calculation, there was something powerful about not hiding, about claiming connection openly rather than in shadows.

Wooyoung seemed to read her thoughts, a smile curving against her lips as he pulled back slightly. "Scandalous, isn't it?" he murmured, eyes dancing with mischief. "The quartermaster would have heart failure at such impropriety."

The mental image of Seonghwa's horrified expression made Y/n laugh despite her quickened breath and flushed cheeks. "Hongjoong would probably just take notes for strategic purposes," she countered, surprising herself with the ease of the teasing.

"And Mingi would watch silently, cataloging every detail for future reference," Wooyoung added, his grin widening. "While Yunho would blush magnificently and try to decide whether to leave or stay."

The shared humor—comfortable despite their intimate position—created another layer of connection beyond physical desire. Unlike calculated seduction meant to achieve specific outcome, this held genuine enjoyment of each other beyond merely physical response.

Wooyoung's expression softened, his theatrical mask slipping to reveal something more vulnerable. "I missed you," he said simply. "Not just these past fifteen years, but these past days when you've been reconnecting with the others. I've been waiting my turn, trying to be patient—not my strongest quality, as you may have noticed."

The admission—delivered without his usual elaborate flourish—touched Y/n deeply. Unlike a manipulative attempt to claim exclusive attention, his honesty acknowledged the complex reality of their situation with straightforward acceptance.

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting," she replied, her hand rising to cup his cheek. "I'm still adjusting to... all of this. To having choices. To being allowed to want."

"Never apologize for taking the time you need," Wooyoung said, turning his head to press a kiss to her palm. "Contrary to my dramatic nature, I can actually be quite patient for things that matter." His smile returned, wicked at the edges. "I just prefer not to be, when there are much more interesting alternatives."

His mouth found hers again, this kiss deeper than the ones before, his hands growing bolder as they explored the curves of her body with appreciative attention. When his fingers found the laces at the front of her bodice, he paused, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes.

"May I?" he asked, theatrical persona giving way to genuine care.

The simple request—acknowledgment of her autonomy in even this small matter—created another surge of warmth in Y/n’s chest. This wasn't the calculated compliance of captivity but authentic choice freely given.

"Yes," she breathed, the single word containing fifteen years of reclaimed agency.

Wooyoung's fingers made quick work of the laces, loosening her bodice with practiced ease that suggested considerable experience. Yet despite his obvious desire, his touch remained attentive rather than demanding, invitation rather than expectation.

As the fabric parted beneath his hands, exposing the thin chemise beneath, Wooyoung drew in a sharp breath. "Even more beautiful than I imagined," he murmured, reverence replacing his usual theatrical delivery. "And believe me, I have a VERY vivid imagination."

His hands moved to her shoulders, thumbs tracing her collarbones with careful appreciation. Unlike potential focus on physical attributes alone, his attention felt like recognition of her entirety—desire for the person rather than merely the body.

"I should tell you," he said, uncharacteristic hesitation entering his voice, "that I've also been imagining this moment for fifteen years. And in my imagination, I was always much smoother and more sophisticated than I'm managing right now."

The confession—vulnerable beneath his typical playfulness—created an unexpected tenderness in Y/n's chest. This wasn't calculated seduction but genuine connection, nerves and all.

"I like you exactly as you are," she assured him, fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "Theatrical and honest all at once."

Something flickered in Wooyoung's eyes—gratitude mixed with deepening desire. Then his mouth found hers again, kissing her with increasing hunger as his hands resumed their exploration of newly exposed skin. When his thumbs brushed the sides of her breasts through the thin fabric of her chemise, Y/n gasped against his lips, her body arching instinctively into his touch.

"Responsive," Wooyoung observed with evident appreciation, his mouth trailing down her neck as his hands grew bolder.

His lips followed the path his fingers had taken, trailing along her collarbone before dipping lower, kisses pressed against the swell of her breasts above her chemise. When his teeth grazed a particularly sensitive spot, Y/n's fingers tightened in his hair, a soft sound escaping her throat that seemed to encourage rather than deter his attentions.

Wooyoung's hand moved to cup her breast through the thin fabric, thumb circling her nipple with deliberate pressure that sent sparks of pleasure through her body. His mouth continued its downward journey, hot kisses trailing along the edge of her chemise until he reached the peak of her breast. Even through fabric, the heat of his breath made her shiver with anticipation.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured against her skin, looking up through his lashes with an intensity that belied his playful nature. "I want to hear you say it."

The request—invitation to express desire rather than merely receive attention—represented another form of freedom after fifteen years where her wants had been systematically disregarded. Choice extended beyond yes or no to include preference, desire, active participation rather than passive receipt.

"I want your mouth," Y/n replied, voice husky with desire as her fingers tightened in his hair. "Here." She guided him to her breast, the word transforming from request to demand as her confidence grew.

A smile of genuine pleasure curved Wooyoung's lips at her directness. "With pleasure," he replied, the theatrical cadence of his usual speech giving way to something more primal as his mouth closed over her nipple through the thin fabric.

The sensation drew a moan from Y/n's throat, louder than she'd intended in the open kitchen. Wooyoung's responding groan vibrated against her sensitive flesh, his hand raising to attend to her other breast as his mouth continued its deliberate attention.

The combination of his clever hands and talented mouth sent waves of heat skittering across Y/n's skin, building a tension that coiled low in her belly and spread outward in pulsing waves. Her back arched, body seeking more contact as her breath came in quickened gasps, every nerve alive with sensation.

When Wooyoung drew back slightly to blow cool air across the damp fabric, her entire body shuddered, a broken sound escaping her lips that held both protest and need. "Already so sensitive," he marveled, voice filled with admiration and something deeper. "I can only imagine when there’s nothing between us."

He raised his head to capture her mouth again, the kiss fierce with shared hunger as his hands slid beneath the loosened bodice to finally touch her skin directly. The absence of barriers heightened every sensation, his touch electric against her bare flesh.

Lost in sensation, neither of them heard the approaching footsteps until a theatrical gasp broke through their absorbed focus.

"Well, WELL, WELL!" San's voice rang through the kitchen, amusement and surprise mingling in his animated tone. "Apparently Jongho owes me twenty gold pieces! I TOLD him you'd claim the kitchen as your domain in EVERY possible way!"

Wooyoung pulled back reluctantly, though his hands remained at Y/n waist in a gesture that managed to be both possessive and supportive. Unlike Seonghwa's mortified reaction to being discovered with Y/n, Wooyoung merely looked over his shoulder with an expression of theatrical annoyance.

"Your timing is ATROCIOUS," he informed San with dignified outrage somewhat undermined by his disheveled appearance and the flush on his cheeks.

San leaned against the doorframe with a grin that matched Wooyoung's usual mischief. "On the contrary," he countered, "my timing is IMPECCABLE. Any later and I'd have been treated to a FAR more comprehensive display of your culinary techniques."

Y/n expected embarrassment to overwhelm her—being discovered in such a compromising position by someone she barely knew should have triggered the protective withdrawal that fifteen years of captivity had ingrained. Instead, she found herself laughing, the absurdity of the situation somehow liberating rather than mortifying.

San's eyebrows rose at her reaction, then he joined in with his own laughter, warm and genuine rather than mocking or judgmental. "I like her," he declared to Wooyoung, approval evident in his tone. "She handles interruptions much better than you do."

"She hasn't had fifteen years of your INFURIATING habit of appearing at precisely the wrong moment," Wooyoung retorted, though there was no real anger in his voice, only fond exasperation.

He turned back to Y/n, helping her retie her bodice with unexpectedly gentle hands. "I apologize for my friend's complete lack of manners," he said loudly enough for San to hear. "He was raised by particularly ill-behaved wolves."

"Wolves with EXCELLENT timing," San corrected cheerfully, making no move to leave despite Wooyoung's pointed glares.

Once Y/n was properly covered again, Wooyoung pressed a kiss to her forehead that managed to be both chaste and deeply intimate. "To be continued," he promised in a whisper meant for her alone. "When we can ensure NO INTERRUPTIONS." This last part was aimed directly at San, who merely grinned wider.

"I look forward to it," Y/n replied, enjoying the flash of heat that returned to Wooyoung's eyes at her directness.

"Now," Wooyoung declared, theatrical persona fully restored as he turned back to his neglected pots, "since you've RUDELY inserted yourself into my kitchen, San, you can make yourself useful. These spices won't grind themselves, and I have a feast to prepare!"

As San pushed away from the doorframe with exaggerated reluctance, Y/n found herself watching the easy camaraderie between the two men with a sense of wonder. This was friendship without calculation, teasing without cruelty, connection without exploitation—the natural flow of relationships built on mutual respect rather than power imbalance.

Another piece of normal life she was gradually reclaiming after fifteen years where such simple human interactions had been systematically denied. Like the private room with its personalized touches, like the freedom to choose intimate connections, like the ability to laugh openly without fear of consequences, these small moments of ordinary happiness accumulated into something extraordinary—a life rebuilt from fragments, a self reclaimed from captivity.

As Wooyoung drew her back into the cooking preparations, his hand occasionally brushing hers in touches that promised more to come, Y/n felt something unfamiliar yet welcome settling in her chest—not merely desire or affection, but genuine belonging. This house, these men, this new reality they were building together—it was becoming home in every sense of the word.

Taglist: @hopeless-lovex0 @frankielou02 @jilxxasu @kur0kki @lezleeferguson-120 @uniquecloudbread @miniverse-zen @symmieangela @monstacheol @ateezswonderland @comicnerd557 @pixie0627 @fumaluvr @princesscallie @green-moon @starryjoong-jeongcheollie @wiccanmetallicrose @atinyapple1117 @sassy-snassy @soulphoenix1618 @wxnderingthoughts @mdurir @awkward-fucking-thing @herpoetryprincess @stickystickyjam @0-beemzy-0 @prettypeachprincesz @thuyting

[djarins-cyare]

Never Look Down

Part 1: Din’s Evening

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Prompt: “I don’t know what’s happening but I love it.”

Summary: Din has been ignoring his crush on Grogu’s babysitter for a while now, with varying degrees of success. But after a misunderstanding leads to some revelations, there’s no denying things any longer. Sometimes you just need to look at things from a different perspective.

Rating: Mature (18+) with a smidge of explicit

Pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character (for his POV scenes) / Din Djarin x Reader (for her POV scenes)

Word count: 5,330

Tags/warnings: alcohol, drunkenness, vomit (no description), numerous references to erections, some swearing, references to sex, non-explicit smutty thots, Din carries OFC a short distance, masturbation (male, semi-explicit, but I don’t think enough to push up the rating), 3rd person POV (part 2 will be 2nd person POV and OFC will become reader/you).

Author’s note: This was originally supposed to be for @beskarandblasters’ Din Djarin Fic Club Drabble Event, although drabble this is not! Kel said there was no word limit, but it grew so long that I couldn’t even call it a one-shot anymore, so I’m uploading it in two parts to make it easier to read and I think that probably disqualifies it from the Drabble Event. But Kel, thank you so much anyway for the prompt – it resulted in me finally pushing through my writer’s block and finishing/uploading something new, so I’m eternally grateful!

READ ON AO3 (author’s preference)

Tumblr version ahead if you prefer…

He’s panicking. It’s stupid, really – he’s been in situations far trickier and more critical than this. But Karga said he needed help urgently, and now his babysitter isn’t answering her comlink.

Should he just go and leave Grogu here? It’s not like he never left him alone on the ship.

Except… something’s changed since the adoption. Din has started to care what others think of his parenting style. He hears people whisper that fatherhood clearly isn’t coming easily to him (he thought he was doing alright). He watches how his babysitter closely monitors every move the kid makes (the Mandalorians never watched him that closely). He listens when people talk about how they raise their own children (he hadn’t realised it was such hard work). And it’s made him feel as if he’s… lacking.

He hates feeling less than adequate in any area of his life, but somehow, failing as a father cuts deep. Perhaps it’s because he grew up without one. Plus, that scolding Peli gave him after she found Grogu alone on the Razor Crest still haunts him.

Although the Mandalorian method of letting them learn from their mistakes has merit (and it never did him any harm), he wants to be there for his son. So, no. He won’t leave Grogu here alone. He can’t risk him waking up and wondering why nobody comes if he calls. The kid has probably had enough of that in his past.

Why isn’t Maia picking up?

Din paces the cabin’s length, listening to the gentle ping of the comlink as it tries to connect with the one he gave her. Even the soothing pulse doesn’t ease his frustration. Diligent parenting is hard.

Just as he’s wondering if he can wake the kid and bring him along, the comlink crackles to life.

“—know what the stinking stang is wrong with it! Ah, frotz! Hello? Is this thing totally borked?”

For a baffling moment, he can’t work out whether he’s shocked or thrilled. She certainly doesn’t use that type of language around the kid, but he’s delighted to hear her voice nonetheless.

“Maia!” He interrupts her frustrated confusion as loud as he dares, lest he wake the sleeping child downstairs.

“Shiny, hi! It works! What’s up, my metal man? It’s late… is this a booty call?”

Once again, Din can’t decide if he’s shocked or thrilled. However, his dick’s instant twitch of interest proves that it, at least, is clearly siding with the latter. Dank farrik, he wishes it were a booty call. “No, Maia, I need—”

“Course it’s not!” she interrupts, giggling inanely. “Sorry, that was ridiculous, ignore me. Go on, you were saying?”

He takes a deep breath and tries to push past the stab of dismay at her labelling the idea of a booty call as ridiculous. At least she sounds in a happy mood.

“I’m sorry to contact you so late, but Karga has some kind of crisis. IG-11 is still with the Anzellans for repairs after the last crisis, so he’s asked for my help. Grogu’s asleep, but I’m gonna need you to come over and wait at the cabin until I return. I’ll pay you double your usual rate. I just don’t wanna leave him here alone.”

“Suuure! I’ll haul my jets over to you now. Five, ten minutes, tops. If you wanna take off now, I know your door code. I’ll check on the li’l bug as soon as I arrive.”

Din breathes a relieved sigh. “Thank you, I owe you. I shouldn’t be long.”

“Happy hunting, Beskar Boy! Or happy dispute settling!” Maia signs off with a melodic laugh that instantly makes him grin beneath his helmet, despite the stupid nickname.

The grin fades as he processes the meaning of the words preceding her addictive laughter, and he sighs. She’s probably right, although he hopes he’ll at least need his blaster for whatever mess the High Magistrate wants him to clean up.

Karga was once able to intimidate the townsfolk, but these days, they see him as purely a leader and captain of industry. They respect his ability to govern and improve the town – he’s more than proven himself capable in those roles. But whipping out a blaster from beneath those ridiculous robes now gains him little more than dubious raised eyebrows. By contrast, Cara was a fearsome and capable law enforcer, and now IG-11 keeps the citizens in line.

Except a reptavian tore off both of IG’s legs a few nights ago. Apparently, whatever the droid equivalent of ‘sick leave’ is, he’s taking it.

Din doesn’t mind helping out when he’s not on jobs for Carson. As long as Karga doesn’t solicit his help too often, it’s an easy way to make a few extra credits. He supposes that kind of makes him a part-time deputy, though he’ll never accept a title or a contract. But if tonight’s job is nothing more than a neighbour dispute, he’ll be a little peeved. His friend is aware of his skillset and wouldn’t contact him unless it required weapons and armour. He hopes.

He checks on Grogu once more, then equips himself with his usual arsenal, making sure to lock the weapons cabinet behind him. For some reason, his blasters fascinate Maia. He’s given her several shooting lessons, and she always asks to hold them whenever the cabinet’s unlocked. Although he doubts she’d handle them without his permission, he’d rather be present if she’s caressing his things.

Truthfully, he’d prefer it if she handled and caressed something else entirely, though he buries that thought for now. He has work to do, and an ill-timed hard-on would be awkward at best, if not downright perverse. He can torture himself later.

Din wraps up the problem in less than an hour. It does require his blaster, in fact, and he does have to shoot someone. Okay, it’s in the shoulder to disarm him, but the guy is only on his drunken vendetta because he’s heartbroken. He doesn’t deserve to die.

A year ago, he would’ve just shot him in the head and gone home. But he’s lived among the citizens of Nevarro for several months now, and he’s almost starting to feel like part of the community. Passing through it to visit the old covert was different. The Mandalorians were a separate (secret) colony, and he was merely a visitor who lived on his ship. Even though his new home is still on the outskirts, Grogu attends the school in town, and he already knows many of the other parents by name. These days, the market stall owners try to chat with him instead of looking away in fear as they used to.

The guy standing on a table in the cantina tonight with a blaster trained on his ex and her new flame is someone Din recognises. He can’t recall from where, but disarming rather than killing him feels like the right thing to do.

Once he has him in binders, he delivers him to Karga and hurries straight home. The lava flats are quiet and peaceful this time of night, free from the nocturnal bustle of the town and lit only by the celestial display above. There’s no sulphur fog tonight, and the air smells fresh.

But as pleasant as it is, he doesn’t dawdle. Just like every other time he’s left Maia in charge, he relishes the chance to walk into his home and see her there. As if she belongs. He finds that image far more dazzling than the constellations sparkling above him. It’s far sweeter than the fresh air he inhales through his helmet filters as he hastens toward his cabin.

He can’t pinpoint when his interest in her changed from professional to passionate. Grogu made it clear that he liked her best out of the several childminders they auditioned, so he gave her the job. At some point between then and now, he became enamoured with her.

But he can’t do anything about it.

His loyalty to his son means he can’t fuck the babysitter, so for now, Maia belongs to the kid, and Din sleeps alone.

Even though he’s had no serious relationships in the past, he imagines he’d be willing to try it with her. But since it’ll never happen, it’s not worth dwelling on. He’s noticed a few locals checking him out, so he can always approach them if he’s looking to get laid. He’s much more used to casual encounters.

But none of that stops Din from thinking his babysitter is beautiful. It doesn’t stop him from wishing he could run his hands over her welcoming body, indulge in her tender touch and heady scent, sink into her depths over and over until she’s crying out his name as they shatter together in ecstasy….

Dank farrik, he’d better quit thinking like that. He has enough trouble controlling his physical urges around her as it is. In fact, it’s starting to become a problem. He’s lost count of how many times he’s had to dash off and furtively rearrange himself so his stomach padding hides his boner. He can’t wear the flight suits with the tight pants around her anymore, so the looser-fitting ones are getting much more use. In fact, he’s wearing his last pair. (That reminds him: he needs to do laundry tomorrow.)

Maia teases him whenever she can, but it’s always friendly, not flirty, and it doesn’t come close to being sexual. He’s never caught her looking anywhere other than directly at his visor. Still, he can’t help feeling embarrassed whenever something she says or does causes his cock to harden. He simply can’t control it.

Din reaches the cabin and punches in the door code, happy to note that his guest has locked it from inside. Her diligence and attention to detail certainly helped him trust her in his home from the outset of her employment.

Stepping across the threshold, he notices all the lights are out except for the one above the kitchen sink, which is unusual. Stranger still, all it illuminates is a near-full cup of water standing in a pool of condensation.

Nonetheless, it’s bright enough for him to survey the rest of the room cast in shadowed shades of grey.

He can’t see Maia.

Instantly, his heart rate rises, although he doesn’t panic. She’s probably just in the refresher or the kid’s bedroom with him. But the amount of moisture surrounding that cup shows it’s been sitting there almost as long as he was gone, which is curious. And there’s no light coming from downstairs either.

The cabin is small, with an open-plan kitchen and living space, and a staircase leading down to two bedrooms and the refresher. Din’s priority is his son, so he creeps down the ferrocrete steps, well-practised at following the route silently. With his night vision on, he can see that Grogu’s door is open a crack, and he pushes it wider. Little purring snores verify that the kid is sleeping soundly, and he slides the door fully closed to ensure he stays that way. Good.

Since his babysitter wasn’t in that room, and she wouldn’t invade his private space without permission, there’s only one other option. He bypasses his own bedroom opposite Grogu’s and heads to the door facing him – the refresher. He can’t pick up any sounds from within, but he’s not about to invade her privacy by listening too intently. The door is fully shut, but there’s a faint glow through the ventilation grill at the bottom, too weak to be the usual lights. A glowrod?

That’s rather odd. He’s grateful that Maia avoided putting on the hall lights while Grogu’s door was ajar, but she could’ve switched on the refresher lights once inside.

For an unsettling moment, Din isn’t sure how to proceed. He really doesn’t want to interrupt her if she’s busy. But… his instincts are telling him something is off, and he wants to know she’s okay.

He’ll give her a little longer. He’d rather be cautious than a perv.

He retreats upstairs again, conducting a thorough check of the living space and kitchen but finding nothing abnormal or suspicious. Nothing besides that abandoned cup of water, at least. Next comes his nightly check of the cabin’s weak points – the windows and entryway. He secures them all, figuring he can escort Maia out when she’s ready. Tipping away the water, he runs a fresh cup, turns his back to the stairs to lift his helmet and drink, and refills it. Finally, he disarms himself of most of his weapons, leaving one blaster in its holster and his vibroblade in his boot. He likes to bring some of his usual arsenal downstairs with him, even though he has multiple spares in a secure cabinet near his bed.

Which is where he’s headed now. Din sets the drink on his nightstand, switches off his night vision, and switches on the dim bedside light. His guest has seen him armourless a few times before, so he begins removing his beskar and the rest of his kit. He’s almost finished – just his armourweave stomach padding to go – when he hears a thump from the refresher.

In seconds, he’s outside it again, listening intently for any further clues. He’s been in the business of handling unconscious bodies for decades, and that sounded like an unconscious body.

“Maia?” he tries, keeping his voice low to ensure he won’t disturb the kid.

Nothing.

He knocks gently, giving it a few moments.

Still nothing.

Okay, now he’s really starting to worry. He returns to his bedroom, grabs his vambrace, and flicks through his visual settings until he’s replaced his night vision with the thermal overlay. He hopes he isn’t crossing a line here, but what else can he do? Walking to his doorway, he takes a deep breath… and directs his visor at the refresher.

Dank farrik, she’s on the fucking floor. Why didn’t he check sooner?

Jabbing off the thermal overlay, Din throws his vambrace on the bed, then rushes to the refresher door. He keeps his voice low in case he wakes Grogu, hoping it reaches her anyway. “Maia, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I hope you’re decent because I’m coming in.”

He gives her five torturous seconds to respond or get decent if she isn’t already, and then he keys in the override code. The door slides open, revealing his unconscious (but blessedly fully clothed) babysitter slumped near the toilet, lit by a glowrod on the floor next to her. He can now hear her breathing heavily, though it doesn’t sound laboured, just a deep state of sleep.

His helmet isn’t sealed, so straight away, he’s able to detect the lingering smell of vomit. A somewhat grim consequence of being both a bounty hunter and a father means Din can also distinguish types of vomit. Although she has flushed, there’s no air filtration with the lights off, and the residual odour tells him that Maia has been drinking alcohol.

It also explains her unconscious state, so his worry dissipates a little, and mild annoyance starts to creep in.

She agreed to look after his son when she’d been drinking?

He kneels down next to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Maia. Wake up.” He shakes her, but she doesn’t stir.

He assumes she slipped from a propped-up position against the toilet, and the thud he heard was her slumping onto the ferrocrete floor. Did she bang her head? If that didn’t wake her… shit.

He tries shaking her again with as much force as he dares, and she groans and curls up even more. She’s fighting it, but he sees consciousness sluggishly returning.

“Maia, it’s Din. Can you sit up?”

“… y’can’t make me sing for the cup….” She’s still half asleep and confused, but that’s not surprising. A few seconds later, she cracks open her eyes, becomes aware of her situation, and slams them shut again. “Oh… fuuuck… no no, m’sorry… so so so s-sorry… please don’t be mad at meee….” She’s tearful and rambling but mostly coherent, even though she’s still curled on the floor with her eyes squeezed closed.

“What happened?” He can’t think of anything else to say until he’s established her culpability. He knows she wouldn’t drink on the job, so she must’ve been drinking earlier this evening. It certainly explains her overzealous response on the comlink. Dank farrik, he should’ve realised. But, no, he was busy revelling in his own drunken high from her joke about it being a booty call. Idiot.

“It was accidet— ac-ci-den-tal,” she continues from her foetal position. “Tried to call you back, but m’comlink’s busted… figured better I’m here drunk than not at all… ’m sorry sorry sorry, kark, pleeease don’t hate me. I jus’ wanted to make sure the li’l man was okay. I didn’t realise how much I’d had till I stood up, n’ it hit me worse on the way over. But Grogu’s fine, I checked. But I’ve grossed up your ’fresher, ’m sorry…”

Din sighs. In the scheme of things, Maia did the right thing. He’d rather she was here puking in his refresher than risk his child waking up alone. And it occurs to him that she achieved a surprising amount while seemingly drunk as a pirate. She secured the cabin, poured herself some water, stomached a few sips, managed to descend the stairs unscathed, and checked on the kid. Then she sealed herself inside the refresher and threw up neatly into the toilet bowl with no spills, even managing to flush before she passed out. And she did all that by the light of a glowrod so she wouldn’t wake Grogu.

In many ways, his babysitter’s actions tonight were more responsible than some of his own questionable choices regarding his son’s safety. He can’t be mad at her.

He tells her so. “I’m not mad, Maia. Thank you for coming over anyway. Can you sit up? I need to know you’re okay.”

Her eyes are still clamped shut, but she cracks them slightly as she tries to push herself off the floor. It doesn’t go well, so Din reaches forward to help, and together, they get her into a stable sitting position. Nevarro’s volcanic environment means the basement maintains a cosy warmth, so he’s not surprised she passed out down here. It’s not exactly soft, but those who grow up in the Outer Rim spend their lives making do. He likes that she’s a survivor. Like him.

“Everything’s s-spinning,” she groans. “N’ my mouth tastes like bantha balls.”

Din suppresses a snort. “Hold on.” He climbs to his feet, retrieves the cup of water from his bedroom, and then passes it to her. “Here, sip.”

After she’s taken a few delicate sips, Maia gives him back the cup. “Don’t wanna puke again.”

“You won’t,” he assures, placing it in her hands again. “Pretty sure you got all the alcohol out of your system already. You gotta rehydrate, or you’ll feel worse.”

Kneeling down next to her again, he watches her try to follow his instruction, pleased she trusts him. He can’t help but admire how adorably dishevelled she is. Her hair is mussed, her clothes are wrinkled, and she keeps pouting between sips… but it’s all so… cute.

Once she’s had half the cup, he accepts it back, though she follows it up with more apologies. “M’so sorry… , m’such a karkin’ idiot… I get it if you don’t want me to look after Grogu anym—”

“Stop,” Din interrupts sharply, unwilling to let her beat herself up. “This is as much on me as it is on you. I didn’t ask you if you were busy. I demanded you come over and bribed you with extra credits. I didn’t question why you sounded different on the comlink. And I didn’t wait for you to arrive. If I’d done any of those things differently, you might not have ended up on my ’fresher floor. So I’m sorry too.��� Maia doesn’t reply besides blinking at him a few times, so he asks, “What was the occasion? For the drinking, I mean.”

“One year of freedom from a terrible relationship,” she states resolutely, and for a moment, she seems a little more sober. “Me n’ Zandi, we were both in deep with some mudscuffers who locked us in when we were too young to know any better. But we got lucky. Marshal Dune caught them dealing spice, and now they’re spending a decade mining the asteroid field at the edge of the system. The Nevarran tribunal sentenced them a year ago today, so we drank to celebrate our freedom.”

Din doesn’t really know how to respond. She’s made some previous passing remarks about the toxic relationships she and her friend escaped from, which he’s always taken as hints of her wish to remain unattached. It’s yet another reason he wouldn’t feel right about making any sort of move on her. He settles on, “You… deserve to celebrate.”

“Thanks, Shiny.” He bristles at the nickname out of habit, but he secretly likes that Maia has numerous nicknames for him. “N’ you deserve a ’fresher without a woman on the floor. I should get outta your way, Beskar Boy.”

She tries pushing herself up but instantly becomes dizzy and topples to the side. Din’s naturally quick reflexes kick in, and he positions himself to catch her, letting her fall into his chest as his arm snakes around her back. Before he can even process what he’s doing, he’s slipping his other arm beneath her knees and lifting her up.

“Whoa!” she exclaims, grabbing onto his flight suit with one hand while the other flies to grasp his neck. He almost shivers from feeling her clutch at him so keenly. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I love it! Thanks for the lift, muscles!”

He’s glad his bold move has amused rather than perturbed her, so he doesn’t answer, too busy willing his cock to remain unreactive to this sudden closeness. His main goal is to get her off the ferrocrete floor and put her down somewhere softer as fast as possible. As he elbows open the door and navigates out of the refresher, he makes a split-second decision. His bed is closer than the couch.

“Shiny! This is your bedroom!” Maia whisper-shouts as he steps through the door. At least she’s lucid enough to keep her voice low in case Grogu hears across the hall.

Din grunts in agreement as he approaches his bed and starts carefully lowering her onto it.

She keeps going in a gleeful whisper. “Is this…? Are we…? Kriff, I never thought I’d actually end up in your bed, metal man! I mean, it’s been a dream, sure, but I figured your creed thing meant, like, no sex or whatever. But holy frotz, I guess tonight really was a booty call! Count me the fuck in!”

He’s already laid her down by the time he fully processes her words.

Dank farrik, he’s a fucking idiot.

He will never have sex with any woman in this state. He’s not that kind of guy. The fact that being with Maia is a dream for him too is meaningless, and so is the possibility that she might actually want him. Because does she really? Maybe this is still the alcohol talking. It has to be. Right?

It doesn’t even matter. All Din needs to do is extract himself from this situation in the least awkward way possible and without having to reject her verbally.

But how?

He points a finger at her. “Stay put.” She bites her bottom lip and acknowledges his order with a sloppy salute.

Damn it, the image of her lip caught between her teeth is now burned into his brain, haunting him with forbidden promise.

He pads back to the refresher in his socks and closes the door, relieving himself, flushing, and then pouring some cleaner down the toilet to sit overnight. He then washes up at the sink as fast as possible and refills the cup of water. Returning to his bedroom, Din places the cup on the nightstand along with the glowrod that belongs to his guest.

Speaking of whom…

In his brief absence, Maia has toed off her shoes, stripped naked and strewn her clothes across the floor, and burrowed under his covers. She’s still bleary from the booze, but he sees fire and lust behind her hopeful gaze as she blinks up at him.

It kills him.

He remembers he never finished removing his armour, so he retrieves the vambrace from where he threw it and places it on its shelf. Then he finally removes his stomach padding and puts that away too, directing his visor anywhere except at the naked woman in his bed. He’s doing everything possible to deny the physical reaction her presence is giving rise to.

When he’s done, Din approaches the bed again, acutely aware that she’s tracking him with a hunger he shares but can do nothing about.

Fuck, this is torture. The blanket has slipped down (or maybe Maia has arranged it) so low that it’s daringly close to exposing her nipples. She’s right there, waiting for him. Wanting him.

But she’s drunk. And she’s his kid’s babysitter. He tries to quell his ache by thinking about how she’s thrown up this evening, which would make kissing gross. It helps for a second, although the idea of kissing her at all ends up eclipsing the negatives, and he hardens even more.

Shit, he cannot think about kissing her. Or how naked she is. Or anything like that. Vomit. He should focus on vomit.

Okay. Din taps off the bedside light and picks up the glowrod, then heads to the door in the dark, stumbling over her clothes strewn on the floor. He can’t activate his helmet’s night vision without his vambrace control, but he won’t put it back on just to navigate his escape. Nor will he switch on the glowrod yet because he doesn’t want to see any dismay or regret in her eyes as he leaves her. He wants to remember the hunger he witnessed there.

Hazardous garments notwithstanding, he finds his way to the exit.

Crossing the darkened doorway’s threshold, he whispers, “Get some rest, Maia.” Then he fumbles for the control and taps the door close button, releasing a sigh as it swishes shut behind him.

Switching on the dim glowrod, he traipses upstairs. It’s going to be so kriffing awkward in the morning. Nonetheless, one thought keeps repeating itself to him above all others, one he can no longer prevent his dick from swelling at the prospect of.

Is she really attracted to him?

He has to know.

Din extracts another blaster from his cabinet, knowing he won’t sleep without one beside him. Then he sits heavily on the couch, thinking about how often he used to sleep in his helmet before this cabin became his home. It’s the first place he’s felt secure enough to remove it at night, so he’s no stranger to sleeping beneath his beskar mask. It’s almost a comfort in a way.

With his face covered in a darkened room lit by nothing but a glowrod while those he cares for slumber downstairs, more memories return…

Sitting in the Crest’s darkened cockpit, fucking his fist by the swirling glow of hyperspace, chasing a release during those first stressful days as a fugitive. In theory, if something had pulled him out of hyperspace, someone could’ve quite literally caught him with his dick in his hand. But the odds of anyone being close enough to peer in through the transparisteel at that very moment and notice his furtive actions were slim. Back then, he was so untethered that in his weaker moments, he desperately sought anything that made him feel good. Fleeting moments when he could pretend his life wasn’t falling apart yet again. The risk was worth it.

Here, too, although he’s locked up the cabin and closed the shutters, there’s a risk of Maia sneaking up the stairs and finding him. But a similar desperation fills him now – the utter frustration of loss. Back then, it was the loss of a stable income, the loss of his covert. Now, it’s his missed chance – the loss of what could’ve been with the woman downstairs. And maybe even the total loss of her in his life. Perhaps she’ll be too embarrassed about this evening’s events and quit. Din couldn’t take that, nor could Grogu. It’s why he tried to avoid this.

Can they get past this? Maybe he ought to find someone else to care for the kid. Would that be best? This is getting too complicated. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

So, right now, he’ll imagine the positive and lose himself in the fantasy, just like he used to. He’ll think about the hunger he saw in her eyes and let himself believe it wasn’t merely the alcohol. Just for tonight, he’ll believe it’s the truth. The risk, once again, is worth it.

He’s already tenting his loose flight suit pants, so he fumbles to expose himself and relaxes against the couch cushions behind him. The wet spot on his underwear displays just how profoundly turned on he is simply by the idea of being with Maia.

After all the temptation it’s endured this evening, his cock is extra sensitive, so he begins with measured, lazy strokes. Whilst he’d love to revel in the fantasy, he knows he won’t last long. As he imagines joining her in his bed, filling his palms with those half-exposed breasts he saw, pressing his naked body against her, his movements begin to speed up and his pressure increases. Very soon, he’s plummeting toward the edge of ecstasy like a podracer pilot with the finish line in sight.

His helmet tips back to stare at the ceiling as he pictures how it would feel to sink into her warm depths, and the notion ignites his fuse, burning rapidly. It only takes a few more strokes before the powder keg within him explodes into a million tiny raptures. His hips stutter, his muscles clench, and his orgasm tears through his body. He comes hard, and a fractured groan far louder than he’d intended escapes through the modulator as he spills forth his pleasure…

Fucking. Bliss.

Din’s mind is blank for some time, just a sense of fulfilment and contentment gently rippling throughout his relaxed form.

As the real world filters back in, he’s able to think clearly, and he now knows what he has to do. He doesn’t like it, but it’s the mature and sensible option. It’s also a fucking daunting prospect, but he’s faced worse. Has he? Yes, he has. He can do it. 

He tucks himself away and finds a cloth to wipe down the mess on his flight suit. That task makes him realise he’ll have to sneak into his bedroom tomorrow without waking Maia to grab his armour and some fresh clothes. And now he really needs to do laundry tomorrow. The only pants he has left are the tighter ones, which he tries to avoid wearing around her. Great, there’s another reason to dread the morning. Although it’s not as if he’s ever caught her checking out his package – she may tease him verbally, but her gaze is always polite.

For now, he’ll enjoy the security of darkness and the lingering swirl of happy chemicals in his brain.

Din lays down on the couch and switches off the glowrod. With a deep sigh, he surrenders to the relaxing state of comfort brought on by his orgasm, letting himself fall into a contented sleep. Before he drifts off, his last thought is of Maia’s beautiful lips… leaning in for a kiss….

If only.

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Part 2 →

Those of you who've read my work before will be familiar with my copious end notes:

As usual, it’s British spellings I’m afraid. Demographic stats say about 60% of you are American, but I can’t help where I was born, so sorry about all the extra ‘u’s and ‘l’s and for using ‘s’ where you would expect ‘z’. However, I’ve channelled my inner linguist and used American language and speech patterns since the show is filmed in the US and Din’s accent is American. All other wording is internationally neutral, including Maia’s dialogue (since the next chapter is written from her POV and I’ll be switching to second person reader insert for that, e.g. you/your pronouns). I’m a little sad I didn’t get to include any Mando’a linguistics in this fic tbh. Maybe another time.

The cabin’s layout is inspired by the concept art by Christian Alzmann that appeared in the closing credits of s3e8, in which there appears to be a staircase leading down to a lower level. That makes sense to me, as Din would need total security to sleep without his armour on, and a windowless underground room seemed appropriate. I also like the parallel that on the Razor Crest he used to sleep on the lower level in a windowless room too.

I know Carl’s absence is going to be felt when we finally get the movie, so I wanted to write something where Karga is still around. If this had been a longer piece, I would’ve had him actually featuring in it instead of being in the background, but in any case, Karga lives forever in the universes I write.

The reference to Din wearing looser pants is, weirdly, Canon. One of the ways you can tell it’s Brendan Wayne in the suit is because he seems to prefer these weird baggy clown pants. Contrast to Pedro who likes them tight (Din Peña?), as does Lateef Crowder, and as did Barry Lowin in season 2. Since Brendan did the majority of season 3, we saw Din in the loose-fitting style a lot more, so I decided to write in a reason for that beyond actor preference.

Though we have no information on Nevarro’s judiciary system, they’re an independent world who have a marshal and a magistrate, so my guess is they’d adopt the New Republic’s system of having a tribunal. Generally, group decision-making is favoured during this era, in contrast to the single-judge system of the Imperial era, so it seems more likely that Karga would encourage citizens to serve on a tribunal rather than unilaterally passing judgments himself.

Apologies to @the-mandawhor1an for using the name of your longtime established OC – it was coincidental, I promise! I chose it after looking up the most common female names in the world, one of which is Maria, and I settled on the variant Maia because it sounded like a more Star Wars-y version (and for another reason which you’ll see in part 2). I only realised when you reblogged my WIP Wednesday snippet, and it was a bit late to change it by then. I guess it’s a common name in the SWU too! But I’m sorry and I hope you don’t feel like I’m muscling in on your domain. Your Maia is of course the original Maia 💖

I made the GIF myself. Sorry it’s a bit blurry, I’m not very good at making them yet. I tried to use Tumblr’s GIF-making function, but it wouldn’t let me crop out Grogu’s ears, so this was my alternative attempt. It’ll have to do.

Definitions: Comlinks are those little cylinder comms they all use. Glowrod is a catch-all term for anything portable that produces light. All the swears/insults (stinking stang, frotz, borked, kriff, kark) are from the Legends list of phrases and slang this time (it’s longer than Canon). Nevarran reptavians are the ones that Grogu saved Karga from in s1e7 and that the Mandalorians were roasting in s3e7. Ferrocrete is a compound building material (Canon and Legends) made from concrete and iron, used in roads, reinforced bunkers and building foundations. I figured Din would only be happy with something strong and defensible, so Karga had the cabin built with it. Transparisteel is used for windows and ship viewports, as well as helmet visors.

Part 2 is written and will be uploaded next weekend once proofing/editing is complete. What do we think? Is Din gonna be dumb and tell her she can’t babysit Grogu anymore? Deny himself what he wants for Maia’s own good?

Tags requested…

@aheadfullofsteverogers @alltheotps @axolotllover225 @burntheedges @copperhalfcent

@foomoosworld @jude77 @secretelephanttattoo @stagerightlauren @the-mandawhor1an

Those tagged below showed interest in my masterlist and WIP snippets (comments/reblogs), so I thought I’d sneak in some extra tags. Apologies if it’s too forward, if you’d prefer I didn’t tag you in part 2 just let me know…

@604to647 @cheekychaos28 @djarinmuse @gingerlurk

@joelalorian @kyberblade @readingupsidedown @sunflowersunlight7-blog

@thefrogdalorian @whataenginerd @wrathkitty

[dangan-stuck]

We're here, dammit. This is DanganStuck, and these are the V3 character casts!

SPOILER ALERT. This whole thing contains major spoilers for V3! 

So, this all started when we found a dead body in the Lab… 

Sorry, it’s an inside joke!

Hello, I guess? I don’t know what I’m doing, but here I am, telling you about the Danganronpa x Homestuck AU crossover.

I’m developing this project (?) with [ @happy6machine , @julia-bunncat ] and with the help of some other cool guys as a support team. Lots of headcanon material has accumulated, and progress in the development of the au has simply... stalled, and I thought I’d try to share it >_< because I haven’t seen anyone else doing something like this so extensively!

I’ll start with V3 (my current fandom fixation) and castes, I guess!! The choice for some characters was pretty obvious and straightforward (ex: olive cast for Ryoma and Tenko, purple for Kokichi, indigo for Gonta and etc.), others were more unusual options (violet for Kaito, whaat?), but I swear I have an explanation behind them :Ъ

But first, I’d like to make a small remark: We hadn’t set a specific lore for the whole thing. Sometimes we experimented with transforming characters into trolls during gameplay to see how it would work, leaving the game plot, killings, interactions and so on untouched. Other times, we made up certain plot snippets and events as if they all lived on Alternia. Occasionally, we’ve stayed in the session area (which we’ll discuss further), prescribing classpects, castes, quadrants, and so forth—all these options were considered.

Now back to the castes, let's go in order:

• Himiko is the weakest, slowest, and laziest member of the V3 cast. She isn't very bright, or at least she's too caught up in fantasies. She's also, well, red. I didn't see the point in making up something special for her, so I just put her in the rust caste. It also makes the dynamic between her and some of the other characters very intriguing, which I'll discuss later. Her desire to perform tricks can be interpreted as 'service/entertainment for the people', literally a jester for the public, which suits the lower castes. But what are the tricks? Well, rust and psychic powers, right? :D So Himiko has psychic powers, though not very powerful ones... And still calls it magic, of course.

• Kaede was a… difficult case. OK, my excuse: I wanted to include a representative of every caste (except Fuchsia) at least once, and Kaede got caught in the hot seat. But she's bronze for more than just that reason!  There's a joke that I'll tell you about some other time, because I want to hold its punch for a while. As it is, we're hooked on the scene in the first chapter where Kaede immediately falls on her knees in front of Miu (instinct of subordination??). Also, the music is associated with birds, and all animals are associated with the bronze caste. Of course, Kaede is extremely... feisty and enthusiastic for such a caste, but luckily she has many highblood friends—including Kaito, who stood up for her in-game, and if they were trolls, it would work perfectly ;)

• /heavy sigh/ Keebo.

I originally drew this art [link] when my friends and I were just starting to get through V3, and I just liked the sort of black dynamic between the three of them. I didn't think much about the castes at the time, but ironically they haven't changed.

There are some problems with Keebo, because he's obviously a robot, and I want to keep him as a robot in this AU. The most realistic option is that Keebo is a prototype for a new kind of drone to be used on spaceships. After all, he is an advanced AI imitating a troll, so it makes sense to give him some blood color. Gold blood is often associated with the "trolls are used as batteries on ships” theme, and Keebo was literally created to maintain ships. It's... a bit of a stretch, really, but that's all we have for now. I think the lore will be expanded upon in the future.

• Korekiyo. Giving him gold blood was sort of a joke at first, playing on the fact that Korekiyo, like Sollux, has a point that grants him duality—his sister. However, as we fleshed out the lore, the choice felt increasingly fitting. I'll be writing separate posts, probably more than one, to outline his lore because, folks, this is FIRE. I never particularly liked Kork in the game, but now- hell, I LOVE him. Have pity on the poor boi; he's suffered a lot.

• Ryoma and Tenko. Since they both get the olive caste on the same principle, I will combine them. Guys, It's literally a catboy and a catgirl; what other questions could there be?

Okay, technically, Tenko also receives olive blood because she is combative and strong, which are characteristics of this caste. She generally looks like a cat herself ([EN] we’re referring to her fangs and headband with ears in the beta design, her collar with the bell and some of her facial expressions on the sprites), and her temper matches her caste. I'm not sure how to adapt her hatred of men to Homestuck... yet. Maybe she'll hate highbloods instead? That's something to think about.

Ryoma, for his part, with his whole cat theme (his Lusus is a cat, of course), the resemblance of cat ears on his hat, and his tendency to stare into space—he's a good fit too. And despite his small size, he is quite strong.

• Maki. And that's where the problems and doubts begin to unfold. We were deciding whether to make her olive or maybe jade, given her backstory. After all, she disguises herself as a caretaker in canon, and you wouldn't expect a girl from an orphanage to turn out to be a professional assassin. On the other hand, you might expect that from an olive caste troll. Actually, there are indeed olive assassins. But several factors convinced me to give her this particular caste:

- Maki herself is like a wild cat. Her killer stare, mouth shape, quick reactions, strength, agility, grace.

- raising jade trolls as ''assassins'' sounds not only ideologically dubious (after all, the jade caste has a special place in troll society), but also illogical. Jade's killing instinct is probably suppressed, otherwise there would be complete bloodbath in the brooding caves, they wouldn't get along with each other, they wouldn't be able to take care of wigglers.

- yeah, we've sort of canonised Maki being raised by a group of trolls to be an assassin. And raising an olive for that purpose is a perfectly reasonable idea, given their natural abilities.

- the idea for the jade caste came from the fact that children are attracted to Maki. However, Maki gets surprised by this fact every time. She calls it silly, paradoxical, and strange. Well, it wouldn't be strange at all if wigglers were attracted to a jade blood troll; that's natural. But the fact that they are attracted to an olive one should come as a surprise, even to Maki herself.

• Kirumi. Wasn’t overthinking it. The caste is given to her at the same time because of the method of exclusion (others don't really fit) and because of her calmness, composure, and desire to care for others. Kirumi can also be very, very dangerous, just like the jades in canon ;)

• Rantaro. Anybody ordered male jade? I love them personally, despite knowing they're very rare. Well, that choice is pretty obvious: Rantaro is filled with the desire to care for and protect his younger siblings. Where else could he end up but in the jade caste? He's also just a handsome guy with the cutest face, and he's GREEN, dammit! I made my choice immediately. And there's already a story about him! It's small, but we're definitely going to expand it.

• Shuichi. Do I have to explain anything??? Well, in case someone doesn't know, teal caste and detective work are two sides of the same (hee hee) coin, there was simply no other way.

• Angie. Blue caste. Uuuh, yeah, the elimination method again, I suppose? At first, I considered gold blood to maintain the original palette, but Angie has a blue caste psycho vibe to me. Damn, she's brainwashed half the class at some point! What else could it be but minor mind control? Also, Angie is quite bossy, feels at ease, and has the markings of a dominant personality (oh, the Love Hotel scene...). Blue caste suits her.

• Tsumugi. So, okay, given all her statements about her being "plain" and "nonexistent," it would seem that she should have been given low blood. But listen to this: she BULLIES MIU!

...okay, this might not be entirely obvious, but Tsumugi often makes all sorts of sarcastic comments about the other characters, most of which you can only notice if you replay V3 with knowledge of the plot. Her tweaks towards Miu are more noticeable, though, and considering that Miu herself is an indigo blood, it goes down well. Tsumugi is high-blooded enough to tease the indigo troll, saying things like, "Hey, why is it that as soon as someone starts talking back to you, you immediately turn into such a wimp?" She's also high-blooded enough to ignore Kaede when she tries to talk to her at the beginning of the game. Her blue caste might be the reason the killing game worked out at all, considering how many mistakes Tsumugi made. Who knows, maybe she also created Flashback Lights with her psychic powers...

And... eh. I confess. I wanted to keep her in blue colors, in addition to all the above reasons, so I didn't really consider any other castes.

• Miu. Indigo caste, wow! Well, considering her behavior and the fact that no one had ever punched her through the entire game, it’s CLEARLY obvious. Only a high-blooded troll, a really high-blooded troll, could afford to be so rude to those much lower down. The funny thing is that she targeted low and mid-bloods more often: Kaede, Shuichi, sometimes Himiko, Korekiyo, and Keebo. She didn’t bother, or almost didn’t, with Gonta, Kaito, and even COOPERATED with Kokichi—as if she had to, as if she were afraid of crossing the paths of those above her in caste. Also, Miu said she liked it when Kaede and Shuichi knelt before her...

You might ask—why not purple caste? Still, Miu’s strange behavior is a bit like that of a purple-blooded schizo, isn't it? Well... Firstly, there's nothing to suggest that Miu belongs to this weird purple cult. Secondly, Miu’s odd behavior when someone insults her gives us an interesting, almost Equius-like, God forgive me, “I'm superior to you, but I want to obey; it's SO WRONG but so arousing” conflict.

• Gonta. There was no reason to even try. I did have a stray thought, due to Gonta's nature and his connection to bugs, to place him in the bronze caste, but...no. Given his immense power and his lack of insanity like that of the purple-blooded trolls, you can't put him anywhere other than the indigo caste. Plus, he's from a noble family himself. And this ALSO creates a cool dynamic and adds interesting lore aspects to Homestuck!Gonta that I like VERY much and will definitely cover in other posts!!!!

• Kokichi. Oooh reeeally, who'd have thought? Of course he's purple-blooded! It's not that simple, though. Kokichi is definitely not a crazy purple cultist like most members of the purple caste. We are going to be talking about that separately, and believe me, I will give this guy a lot of lore, because I freaking love him. There isn't much else to say–no other blood color suits him better.

• AND HERE WE ARE: VIOLET-BLOODED KAITO, WAT???? Okay, let me explain!

1. I have a headcanon that violet-bloods are not as obsessed with the hemospectrum as land trolls. This is due to the fact that they are mostly isolated, living in the sea. In that environment, there are only fuchsia caste above them, and no one below them Occasionally, rare purple-bloods get caught on the shores, but EVEN then, their status isn't significantly lower. They don't live in a society where lower-bloods are constantly stigmatized and killed for no reason. They simply don't have any possibilities to "grow" those oppressive, rigid attitudes. Eridan shows this well: no matter how much he talks about hating land dwellers, he always interacts with other trolls on almost equal footing—for example, by hitting on everyone and asking Karkat for advice.

2. Kaito has strong leadership skills and a desire to guide, mentor, and support others. He stands up for Kaede, takes Shuichi under his wing, and protects Maki. This demonstrates the attitude of a strong leader willing to take responsibility. It seems very reasonable for an intelligent, thoughtful violet who knows that he is in a position of authority and must be relied upon. He can't afford to appear weak. No wonder he hasn't told anyone about his illness...

3. He conquered the sea... AND CAME TO LAND!!! All these stories about Kaito in Homestuck could become TRUE if he really is a troll with access to EVERYTHING. Fight a pirate king? Hell yeah! And he WANTS to go into space! Maybe not to enslave worlds, but to get off the planet and pilot a ship—why not? He has nothing to fear, unlike many other trolls, as he'd literally be in charge, with only the Empress above him. But back to his travels: tired of his life at sea, Kaito could just go and explore the land, and nothing can stop him. No other troll but a sea troll could afford to do that (although land trolls shouldn't go to sea).

4. Kaito is daring. And combative. He is pretty much the only one in the class who has no problem expressing his displeasure to Kokichi (a purple blood!) regularly and hitting him. Kaito is generally capable of aggression (I shudder to think how Shuichi must have felt when he was punched—minus another protagonist?) and emotion, which is also characteristic of the highblood. Even when he tries to stop Kokichi at the end, he's probably the only one who can do so after Gonta and Miu was killed.

5. COLOUR SCHEME. Let's just leave him with a beautiful violet. Especially as a highblood, he has every right to dress up. Even a star coat :з

Aaand yeah that's it! It has been a bit of a journey, hasn't it? Gosh, I'm really embarrassed. If you made it to the end, I love you guys so much!!!! I hope you enjoyed it!!! I'll develop this thread if there's minimal feedback and people are interested. And, uh, if you have any questions or anything, go for it. Questions help develop this whole thing.

TRANSLATION PREPARED BY MY FAVORITE WONDERFUL FRIENDS SUNSHINES I LOVE YOU WITHOUT YOU THIS WOULD NOT BE POSSIBLE THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU <33333

[cornfowercowboy]

When can I be free? -

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The Bad Batch x Outlaw!reader/OC

Warning: Mention of blaster wounds, blood, swearing, toxin relationship, slavery, death, Reader has Poliosis ( has natural streaks of white hair.)yelling, threatening, manipulation. Lots of Angst, like a LOT

Word count : 5850

Summary : You and your boyfriend are outlaw bounty hunters. You and your boyfriend are trying to disappear from the galaxy and both live a normal life together. But will happen when a few rebels stop both of you from delivering a package to the Empire ?

A/n: Hi! This is my very first fanfic, I have never wrote before and this is my first series I’m doing sooo I’m so nervous about posting this. I have no idea if I’m going to continue this but I really hope you enjoy it! Please excuse any grammar errors I made, I’m dyslexic so I’m so sorry if scenes or sentences don’t make sense :’) anyway, enjoy my very first post!!

Also check me out on AO3 !!! :D

(Also Readers outlaw name is Star! Star is not her real name :pp)

———————————————————————

Being an outlaw was hard in the big galaxy, but being an outlaw bounty hunter made it 10 times harder.

It’s been months since the republic had fallen and the empire had risen. Coruscant had changed a lot since, but that didn't change how you worked.

You and your boyfriend Michael have been on Coruscant for a little more than a month, laying low and waiting for big bounty hunters jobs opportunity to come up. While you waiting for a new mission to come in, your job (for now) is to work as a waitress at a bar.

And that’s where you are now.

“[ Y/n ]” you hear someone call your name. you turn around in your seat and find Michael there, walking towards you with a smile on his handsome face. You smile back at him feeling a warm heat coming from your chest.

“ Michael, sweetie..” you say, getting up from your seat and giving him a long warm hug. Michael was your everything, you knew each other your whole lifes. He was there when you needed him most..He loved you.

“How was work?” Michael asks you, as he gives you a small kiss on your cheek.

”Oh..you know..same thing every day Michael..” you say to him as you cup his cheek with your hand. Although how sweet the moment was, it quickly ended. Michael glances up at your hair and the smile on his face fades away into a disgusted expression.

“[ Y/n ] your hair!” He angrily whispered to you, looking around the room to see if anyone was watching. You panic at his words and pull a strand of your hair to find…white hair. ‘Shit’ you thought.

Ever since you and Michael started to become Bounty hunter’s he started to be..overprotected..at least..that's what you thought.

“I thought I told you to cover..THAT up…!” Michael said angrily to you, he pushed you towards the back where the changing rooms are. “I- I did- I just..-” you try explaining to him but he just cuts you off and sighs.

“ I don't care. Just-” he paused as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “ Just get ready and go to the ship. We have a job to do, AND don't take long” he said to you lastly and left.

You sigh angrily and start walking towards the employee changing rooms. That's when you paused and looked to your right. One of your coworkers was leaning against the wall with a sorry expression on her face.

“He’s still rough on you eh?..” she said to you, you smirked at her.

“When is he not sugar?” You say back to her, as you resume your walking. “You know…you tell me if things get bad..right?” she said back to you, making you look back at her. A Concerned and worried expression wash over her face, your eyebrows scrunch as you thought deep for a moment. You look back up at her with a reassuring smile.

”I promise, sugar”

—---------------------------------------------------

When you got back to the ship you immediately headed to the refresher so you could take a nice shower. The water was warm and inviting, the soap made your skin feel soft and warm. Something you needed after the day you had on Coruscant. When you got out, you quickly dried and dressed yourself.

Your outfit was simple for a bounty hunter, you wore a white button up shirt covered by a chest plate armor and topped with a worn down brown jacket. Your pants were black under some brown chaps, with some beat down brown square cowboy boots. You check yourself out in the mirror, man.

you looked good.

You smile to yourself as you tie a yellow bandana around your neck, before someone calls out your name.

“Star!” You hear Michael yell your name from the cockpit. “Yeah?”

“Get your ass up here, we're coming out of Hyperspace”

He yelled back at you, you sigh and turned to walk out of the refresher before you stopped and looked back at the mirror. You looked at yourself for the last time.

A strand of your [ H/C ] mixed with a little of your white hair was out of place. You stare at yourself deep in your thoughts. ‘It's just you.’ you thought for a moment. You snap out of your deep thoughts before pulling the strand of hair back in place, finally walking out of the refresher towards the cockpit.

“So what is our mission?” You say as you walk in the cockpit, Michael was sitting in the pilot seat pressing buttons on the control panel. “We're just picking up and delivering a package” He said as he pressed another button.

“A package?” you asked in confusion as you sat down in the passenger seat. “Honey we’re Bounty hunter’s, not some delivery guys..” you told him, Michael glanced back at you for a moment.

“ It's a special order,” He turned in his chair so he could face you. “From the Empire” Your eyes wide and your heart drops at the sudden news.

“The Empire!? Michael, are you trying to get us caught?” Michael only smirked at you before turning away. “Relax babe, all they said was go in and get the job done. No questions asked.”

“That doesn't mean we're safe from the law, Micheal!”

Micheal looked at you with an annoyed expression on his face, he rolled his eyes at you. “Star, you're overreacting. This is our chance to be free and live a normal life, without running away from the law.” He said to you as the ship jumped out of hyperspace. An uncomfortable silence swallows the ship whole, you sit there thinking in your thoughts.

Soon the ship landed, Micheal pressed a few more buttons before getting up from his seat. You sat there staring at him angrily, wondering why the kriff he’s so difficult to work with today. Micheal started reloading his blaster and packing more supplies in his bag. After staring daggers against his head for a good minute, you soon sigh in defeat as you stand up and start reloading your own blasters. As you put both of your two blasters in your holder, you look at the table next to you.

It’s your cowboy hat.

You stare at it, before picking it up. You smile, feeling the rough material on your hands. Suddenly a loud noise snaps you out of your thoughts, you turn around to see the ship door has lowered. Micheal stared at you with an annoyed expression on his face. “Come on star, we don’t have all day..” He said before turning around and started exiting the ship. You sigh at him as you put on your hat, before exiting the ship after him.

You take a deep breath of the fresh air around you, looking around the scenery. The trees surrounding you were bright green and fresh. You looked over at Micheal, he started to put a blue bandana over his nose and mouth covering the half of his face before looking at you.

“Just like I said Star, in and out. Just as easy as that babe.” You can't see his face but you can just tell he’s smiling under his mask.

You close your eyes in defeat, before opening them. You sigh as you take your yellow bandana around your neck and put it over your nose and mouth.

“This doesn’t mean that we’re done with our conversation Hun.” You say as you begin walking on a dirt path with Micheal trailing behind you.

“There should be a dealer meeting up with us to drop off the package just a few clicks from here.” He said behind you.

A few clicks had passed by, you and Micheal finally met up with a dealer. The dealer was loading out a big metal crate on a cart from the ship, about as tall as you and Micheal. The dealer had noticed both of you approaching him, he turned to face both you and Micheal.

“You must be Micheal and Star. You guys are here to pick up the package?” He said to both of you. His voice was rough, like he smoked for a living. It was disgusting.

“Yes sir we are,” You say as you observe the metal crate, before looking at the dealer and Micheal. “This is a bigger package than we expected..what’s in it sugar?”

“Eh, just some pet or somethin the empire wants.” The dealer answered back to you.

“Well whatever it is, it’s very valuable to the empire.” Micheal said as he got on the cart with the metal crate.

“Be sure to deliver this package with no damages, they said it needs to be alive when it gets delivered.”

The dealer nods at both of you before getting on his ship and flying off. You kept on looking at the metal crate while Michael was pressing buttons on the control panel, preparing to take the metal crate back to the ship. As you look closer at the crate you realize that there’s holes on the sides, breathing holes.

‘Hm..must actually be a pet then..’ You thought in your mind. ‘But..why would this pet be so valuable to the empire-‘

*SNAP!*

The sound of a tree twig snapping draws both yours and Micheal’s attention, Drawing both of your weapons up towards the source of the sound. Only to find a man in full clone armor.

“Maker dammit…” you mumble under your breath.

“Give us that crate. And no one gets hurt.” The man demanded, raising up his own blaster as 4 more armor men walked in with their own weapons in hand. All of them being different heights.

Rebels..

“Unless you're the escorting back up, we’re not giving you nothin sugar.” You say back to him coldly, both of your and Micheal’s blaster are pointing at them.

“Listen, just give us back the kid and we’ll be on our way.” The leader asked you, his voice was very demanding and smoky.

“A kid? There- there’s no kid here,” Micheal said with a bit of a trembling voice. Your eyes frown a little bit as you glance at Micheal, he notices your concern in your eyes.

“Oh come on babe, don’t believe this Rebel. He’s lying, let's kill these rebels and be on our way.” He said with a bit of an annoyed expression. Suddenly, a loud noise came from inside the metal crate that drew your attention away from the threat in front of you.

The loud noises sounded like banging noise, like...someone banging on the inside of the crate.

Panic started creeping in your chest as you glanced back at the crate.

“Don’t listen to him Star! He's making crap up so we could open it and let our bounty get away.” Micheal said to you as he kept his gaze trained on the five men. His voice sounded panicky.

The banging on the metal crate doesn’t calm you down, glancing at Michael then the 5 armor men before slowly turning around and walking closer to the lock of the door. Your hands tremble in more panic as you start unlocking it.

“Star- Star!” His voice sounded like he was panicking. He tried telling you to stop but it was too late.

You finally unlock the door. Your hands were up against it, keeping it in place. You started to feel that same bad feeling you had before. You take a deep breath, before opening it up slowly. The door was now wide open, and inside that big metal crate was…

A little girl with blonde hair..

With a shock collar around her neck.

A shock collar.

A Zygerrian Slavers shock collar.

The same slave collar you Ẅ̶̧̱͕̝͒͘̕̚o̷͖̻̘̬͖͑r̷̲̭͈̻̣̄è̴̱̔̚͝ ̵͓͕͑͑̐͗a̷̬̔͊̅͐̒s̵̠̝̊͗̂̚͝ ̵͍̮͎̳̋á̵͈̯̂͊̊́ C̵̛͓̘̪̪̓̿̓͂ḧ̶̬͇͙̭͉̠̲́̈͋í̷͇̮̥̪̹͕̻́̃̃͒l̵̨̨̥̠̲̳͙̦̩̈́d̴̮̣͓̖̠͈͉͈̦̯͖͐͜…

The world around you began to spin, you felt sick to your stomach. Your hands began to shake, and you realized you were breathing hard. When did you start struggling to breathe? Your body began to tremble as you slowly began to step back, away from the little girl. She looked so scared out of her mind.

“Star…”

You quickly turned around and saw Micheal, his bandana was not covering his face anymore. His face had a neutral expression, not shocked, not scared, nothing. You take a deep breath before talking.

“Did..did you know?”

“What?”

“Did you know!?” Your voice sounded more demanding and trembling. Micheal didn’t say anything back at you, he just kept quiet.

He did know.

He didn’t tell you because he knew you would have done something.

He knew there was a little girl inside and did nothing just for money.

“Let the kid go,” The leader of the rebels asked again. You stare at Micheal waiting for him to say something but he just stands there, doing nothing. You stand there thinking in your own thoughts, your heart is shattering to pieces by the minute.

“Why are you trembling, Star?” Micheal pauses before talking again

.”If we continue this mission, I- we! we..would be free. Together. Come on babe, Do the right thing!” He said back to you as his voice became louder and angrier.

Your eyebrows scrunched up and frown, your hands ball up in a fist in anger. Stepping away from him. “Sometimes doing the right thing is better than being free, Micheal.” You turned away from him, walking back towards the little girl. You hear Micheal sigh in disappointment.

“You never did listen to me, Star.” You hear Micheal press a button on the control panel and suddenly the cart turns on, making you stop walking. You turned to face him and tell him to stop.

“Micheal, what are yo-“

*BANG!*

…

The world moved too fast for you.

Your brain doesn’t even register what just happened.

You close your eyes as you feel painful pressure push onto your stomach, you feel the dirt ground on your back . Putting your hand on the lower side of your stomach you feel hot liquid touch your fingers. Blood, lots of blood.

You were shot.

Who the hell shot you?

Horrible pain settled on your stomach as your ears started ringing, your head was pounding. Over the loud ringing you heard yelling, blaster shots, and running footsteps. You didn’t want to open your eyes, until you heard a loud muffled talking over you.

You opened your eyes and looked up, the sky was now covered in gray and black clouds. You try your best to look towards the talking. It was the rebel squad.

They seem to be yelling at each other. As you look closer, you realize the cart that had Micheal and the girl was gone. Panic settles in your chest, only making it harder to breathe as you try to talk.

“T-The..girl..” You groaned in pain, catching the rebels squads attention. The leader of the squad squats down at your level, gently putting a hand on your shoulder. You can hear his muffle voice over the ringing sound in your ear, he sounded like he was asking you a question. You didn’t know what question he asked so you said the most logical thing.

“The ship..,” you pause as you take a deep breath before talking again. “Just..a few clicks away from here.. south…”

The leader nodded then quickly stood up and turned to his squad. The muffle voices seemed like he was commanding them, you closed your eyes and groaned in pain as you put more pressure on your wound. The ringing in your ears finally fades away, as you hear multiple footsteps fade away into the distance.

They must be going after Micheal…

The footsteps slowly go far away from you, you finally relax your body in relief. You sigh painfully before trying to get up from your laying down position, when suddenly a hand pushes your shoulder back down on the ground gently. Your heart dropped, your eyes shot open and you began to struggle to breathe again.

Did one of them stay behind to finish you off?

“Take it easy.” A calm voice said to you. You look over at the voice, a man in full clone armor with orange goggles was kneeling beside you. “Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. you're already hurt enough.” he said that last part under his breath, but was loud enough for you to hear.

“Why are you…” You stop talking when he takes off his helmet. His face was tan color, he had a firm expression like he was serious all the time.

“ Just calm down, don't waste your energy.”

He said putting his flesh hand on your wound, you whine in pain as he puts pressure on it. “I apologize for putting more pressure on your wound, but this will only take a minute to try and stop the bleeding. Please sit up”

You do as he asked, with another whine leaves your mouth in the process. He then gets out some fresh bandages, gently wrapping it around your stomach and your bleeding wound.

Slowly but surely patching you up. You look at him as he keeps wrapping the bandages around you. He was so focused on patching you up he didn't realize you were staring at him.

“Why are you..helping me?”

you said as your voice was muffled by your bandanna.Your voice snaps him out of his focused state, he locks eyes with you. He thought for a moment, his eyes softened as he looked at you. He opened his mouth to speak but shut it when a voice suddenly came through his helmet.

“Tech? Come in Tech! Where are you, we need you now!” This man who is named ‘Tech' quickly puts on his helmet back on a comms back.

“Just finishing up right now, we’ll be there in a few clicks” Tech said standing back up on his feet.“Here, let me help you up.” He then puts his arm under your armpit and helps you stand up on your two feet. You whine in pain again, feeling the blood rush back to your head.

“You are surprisingly taking this very well, have you been shot before?” Tech ask you

Your eyes frown in anger. “Multiple times, from Rebels like you.” You say as you pushed him away. Suddenly without his support your body feels way heavier than you realize, Gravity hits you down and you almost fall right back down onto the ground but was saved by Tech. Tech puts his arm back under your arm and you put your arm over his shoulder.

“I would not do that if I were you, you are still in a rough condition as of right now.” he said to you, you scoff back at him.

“Yeah no shit I'm not..” You say to him as you groan under your mask, you need to get out of here. You look up at him, his face close to yours. You just stare at him, his eyes had a concerned expression. Pity, Pity from a Rebel that tried killing you. How funny.

Tech comms went off again. “Tech we could really need you!” the voice said though.

“We are on our way” Tech said as he started walking you back to the ship. Suddenly you feel water roll down your head, it starts raining.

“Kriff! just my luck..” you say angrily, your blood was boiling by the moment. A few clicks went by and you started getting tired and drowsy, you both were really close. You couldn't give up right then and there. You feel techs eyes on you, he stays silent before saying something.

“Back there where I ask you, have you been shot before. what did you mean by ‘Rebels like you’ ?” you both stop walking, turning to look at him. Your eyes scrunch down.

“ Are you serious??” you looked at him in disbelief, you searched in his face to see if was joking.

He wasn't.

“Yes, I am very serious” he said back to you, he was genuinely curious. It makes your blood boil. You scoff at him again, before talking again.

“You guys shot me, you try killing me! Are you really that dumb!?” You started walking again dragging tech with you, his eyes widened at you outburst before scrunching down in confusion.

“ We didn’t not shoot you.” Tech said bluntly, you laughed loudly. He was seriously trying to lie to you?

“Heh yeah right, Rebel. Try lying to me again I might just put a blaster bolt in your head..” you said threatening him, though he was unphased about it and still had a serious expression on his face.

”We didn’t shoot you, It was your partner that shot you,” Tech said back to you.

You frost in your place before turning to him. “what did you just say..?” Your heart stops, time seems to stop for a click. Did you hear him correctly?

“Your partner, he was the one that shot you.”

“No..no! he didn't he just-”

“Yes he did, he shot you then took the girl without you. Which..is concerning since..you both looked really close.” he said back to you before walking again. Your mind was going everywhere and your heart was racing.

Did..Michael really shoot you..Just like that?

Leaving you to die by the Rebels?

Tech noticed your quietness, but said nothing. The only sound that was keeping you both company was just the sound of the rain and the faint blaster noises up ahead of you.

Tech kept on glancing at you, like he wanted to say something and he did. “I’m sorry for what has happened to you.” Tech said to you. You didn’t know if it made you more angry or sad than you already are, you just felt..

“I don’t need your pity from a Rebel like you.” You said bitterly. Tech just nodded and kept walking with you.

You and Tech both stopped walking in front of a forest of trees. Just beyond those trees was the real fight, a fight you didn’t want to face. The faint blaster was loud now.

Tech carefully sat you down at the bottom of a tree trunk all of a sudden, he stood up and ran towards the blaster sounds.

“Wait where are you-“

“Stay here, I’ll try to be fast” Then he was gone, running into the other side of the forest. Leaving you with your thoughts and the sound of yelling.

Your mind was all over that place, you felt so many emotions you just couldn’t keep up. You feel angry, sad, bitter, betrayed, and you just can’t think anymore. You swallowed down a bubble that was forming in your throat, you wanted to cry.

But you can’t.

You can’t cry now.

That little girl is in danger.

Because you failed.

You failed and were left to die.

Your blood was boiling.

You need to face this fight.

You need to face Michael.

You need to make him pay for what he has done.

Your hand slowly moves up the tree, grabbing the side and slowly pulling yourself up on your feet. You groan as you feel pain shoot up your body, you lean against the tree taking a click to breathe before you start walking. You grip the side of your stomach in more aching pain, making you limp as you walk.

As you walk through the many trees in front of you, you start hearing a familiar voice yelling really loud. The sound of Michael yelling. As you got closer, all you saw was the Rebel squad cornering Micheal with all their blasters pointing at him. In Micheal's hand was a blaster, and in his other hand he was holding on the blonde little girl's arm next to a cliff.

Your eyes frown down in anger and without a warning your body started moving on its own.

“Michael!” Your voice was loud and angry when you called out his name. Your presence shocked the rebel squad, and Michael himself.

“[ Y-Y/n ]” Michael’s face had a horrifying expression on it, his eyes were wide open like if you just came back from the dead.

“You…you left me to die!” You said as you limped over to him. “You shot me..!” The rain falls down on both of your faces.

“My dear…” Michael said as he hesitantly slowly walked over to you. “You're alive..” his try getting close you back away from him.

“You shot me!”

“W-what? My dear, I would NEVER do that to you! I love you so much..” Michael said to you, you glance over at the Rebel squad and your eyes find Techs. His eyes were narrowing down, but then they softened when he found yours.

You got the feeling he was trying to tell you not to believe in Micheal’s words.

“I don’t know what them Rebels told you, But they're trying to make you against me!” You look back at Micheal, give him your full attention.

“Believe me, My dear. Then after we kill ALL of them and take the kid, we both can be free and have a family together..” Micheal said, smiling sweetly to you. Days before this day, you would have believed him, tell him how much you loved him and how you loved to have a family together.

But that was back then.

“Okay..I believe you, My love..” you said softly as you limp over to stand beside him. Micheal sighs in relief before laughing and pointing his blaster back at Tech and his squad mates.

“See…everything is going to plan..” Micheal said as you take one of your blasters from your holder and your other hand still holding onto your blaster wound. You point up your blaster at Techs squad. Your eyes find Tech's eyes again, his eyes were filled with hurt and pain at your choice.

“After we deliver this little brat to the empire, we'll disappear without a trace!! Free from the law and live our own lifes!!” Michael laughed out loud in a psycho way. You stare at tech, before you wink at him. His eyes frown in confusion before realizing what you were going to do.

“I don’t think so.”

You pointed your blaster at Micheal and pulled the trigger. You shot him right in the back. Michael yelped in pain , letting go of the little girl in the process but quickly recovered as He pointed his own blaster at you and tried shooting you. You dodged the bolt and quickly tackled him.

As you tackled him, he began to fall down the steep hill but not without taking you with him. You both tumbled down the hill but quickly stopped as you fell onto the muddy wet ground.

You are now laying down on your stomach, your bandana and cowboy hat was now off of you, probably fell somewhere around where you landed. Your body was so weak and you felt your nose begin bleeding as you felt the rain hit your back. The bolt wound was hurting 10 times worse now.

You can't give up now.

Without another thought you feel someone standing over you, hands gripping your back and harshly flipping you over. Micheal was standing over you with a big smile on his face, his hand gripped around your neck, and he squeezed tightly. Your hands gripped his hand, trying to pull them off of you, you began to struggle to breathe.

“You kriffing whore..trying to kill me eh..? Will that’s too bad you bitch, you're stuck with me!” You desperately gasp for air, your body starts thrashing around. You started losing consciousness, the world around you began to fade to black when suddenly..

*BANG!*

The pressure around your throat was gone, you breathed in desperately before quickly punching Micheal in the face. Michael fell back on the ground, he held onto his nose as he groaned in pain.

You quickly got on your feet, taking more time to breathe feeling the blood rush to your head. You glanced over at the hill and saw one of tech’s squad members with a sniper had shot Micheal in the back.

You silently thank him, but quickly turn your attention back to Micheal. He was quick to recover from his sudden attack, quickly he took out another blaster from his holder and pointed at you.

Micheal was about to pull the trigger but you were faster than him, you quickly kicked his blaster out of his hand and delivered another punch to his face more harder than before.

Michael groaned in pain, he held onto his face. While Micheal was trying to recover, you slowly but surely picked up the blaster you kicked out of his hand and stood over him. You breathe in and out trying to control your adrenaline. Holding on to your side as the pain get worse.

When Michael regains his sense of reality, he looks up at you. He tries to get up, but you slowly point up the blaster at him.

Micheal looks up at the blaster pointed at him, his lips curling into a smirk. His face is bloodied and battered as he slowly scoot away from you.

“You know, I should have killed you the day we killed my pathetic father! But no, I didn’t because I felt pity for you being a pathetic slave!” Micheal said, venom in his voice. You don’t react to his words, but your face is twisted into a grimace of anger and pain as you just stare back at him and walk closer.

“ And here you are, being all tough and brave thinking you have the guts to kill me. Well you don’t, I still own you!” He said with a smug look on his face, despite his current situation as he keeps backing away.

“You're nothing but a pathetic whore, You hear me!? A PATHETIC WHORE-“

*BANG!*

….

Your ears ring as you stare at Micheal’s lifeless body fully laying down on the ground now. You slowly bring the blaster down, you look at it before throwing it at the ground.

You feel tears in your eyes, the pain on your stomach was unbearable now, you bring your hand that’s was holding your stomach up to your face and see fresh red blood on it. You looked down at your shirt, only to find it soaked with your blood.

Your adrenaline you once had was now fading away, so was your consciousness. Your body couldn’t hold up anymore, you fell to your knees. In the distance, you hear someone calling out to you slowly getting closer. You soon fall flat down on to the ground, you feel so tired.

“Hey! Stay with me! Just stay awake for me!” You hear a voice beside you. You try listening to the voice, but your eyes grow heavy to the opposite. You can’t open them any more.

“Don't close your eyes, just stay awake!…”

The voice was fading away and soon, everything stopped and went…..black.

…..

You hear a child crying, Crying out for their mother.

“Momma!”

You see a little girl with [ H/c ] and bits of white hair crying beside her mother's lifeless body.

“Please Momma, stay awake!”

The mother of the girl slowly brings up her hand to her daughter's face and cups it. The daughter holds tightly onto her mothers hand.

“Momma…please…stay with me a little longer…please…”

The mother's hand slowly goes limp in her daughter's hand. The girl slowly put down her mother’s lifeless hand on the ground.

“Momma…please don’t leave me…”

……

“Momma..….I’m scared…”

You shot up from your nightmare with eyes wide open, but quickly closed them from the bright light that was above you. You open your eyes, taking a click for them to adjust to the light. When your eyes fully adjusted you looked around, the room was white with a few cabinets and tables around it.

On the stroller table beside you had some medical supplies on it, you realized where you were.

This was a medbay.

Who’s? You didn’t know, you don’t want to know.

You sat up fully, but instantly regretted the sudden movement as you groaned in pain. You look down at your stomach and realize there’s bandages around it, you also realize you're not in your clothes you were wearing before. Now you were in some really big oversized blacks garments. That was clearly not yours.

“You're awake!”

You shot up from your sitting position at the sudden voice, you stood up in horror as you looked around the room to find where that voice came from. In the process you backed up to a side of the stroller table harshly, making some of the medical supplies drop to the floor. Your heart was pounding all over the places.

“Woah! Calm down, It’s okay…”

You finally found where that voice came from and to your surprise, it was the little girl with blonde hair. Your eyes widened at her but not before you quickly closed them as you groaned in pain again, this time much worse.

The girl quickly brought you down to the cot, you gripped your stomach as you scoot away from her.

“Shhh..it’s okay..take it easy.” The little girl said to you, trying to calm you down.

“Just take a deep breath, like this!” The little girl breath in and then out slowly, you stare at her before you close your eyes and follow her steps.

Breath in…breath out…

Your heart rate soon went down, you slowly opened your eyes and found the little girl already staring at you.

“Better?” You nod at her not trusting your voice, she just smiles brightly at you before continuing talking.

“Anyway, my name is Omeg-“

“Omega!”

A voice of a man snaps yours and Omega's attention away from each other, you both looked over at the door. A man with long brown hair and a red bandana was standing in front of the door, his face had a skull tattoo on it. Right behind him was another man, his skin was pale and had mechanic parts, as if he was part-droid.

“I thought we told you to tell us if she wakes up.” The man with the red bandana and skull tattoo said his voice was smoky. He fully walked in the medbay, the pale man behind him did the same.

“I was! She just woke up now.” Omega said, walking over to the two men. Both of them sigh tiredly, before pointing their attention to you. None of them said anything, they just stared at you. It made you feel weak under the gaze, the tension in the room got so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“So…got a name, outlaw?” The man with the red bandana said to you, his brown eyes were piercing at you like a knife. You sign in defeat, you know you can’t be the bigger person right now. You have to talk.

“[ Y/n ], My name is [ Y/n ]”



[beyond-far-horizons]

Halfway impressions on Stormlight 5 Wind and Truth. Minor spoilers but no major giveways...

Jeez I read all the preview chapters before the release and have been reading like crazy and I'm still only halfway through. That's 656 pages, folks, this book is a BEAST!

Overall all really enjoying it. Pace is breakneck, revelations, especially cosmere ones, are coming thick and fast. Alot of Shardic action, just how I like it!

Pros

Kaladin and Szeth's extremely awkward to the point of hilariousness, occasionally heartbreaking buddy cop pilgrimage.

Dalinar and Navani uncovering major secrets...

Shallan also undercovering major secrets whilst attaining major growth, thirdwheeling the cosmere's cutest ship and yes I'm sorry I can't help myself shipping her with Mraize (and Kaladin and yes before you ask her actual husband).

Need a prequel for the Heralds because damn. Also Taln is not only nice to animals, but has balls of steel. I'm surprised Odium didn't let him out early just because he was a badass.

Every Interlude so far has been great, which is a first.

Shards!

I don't want to speak for these communities, but I feel Brando's rep for neurodiverse and lgbt+ folks has really increased. I'm proud of him considering he started from a very prejudiced place and has really worked to inform himself in recent years.

We got a sweet, teeny-weeny love scene that also wasn't explicit or cringe. Go you, Brandon!

Cons

The use of modern American slang seems to be increasing and it takes me completely out of story every time. I know people will say 'it's translated' and 'it makes the story accessible', but to me (IMO) it feels lazy and is inconsistent, therefore severely undermines his characterisation and worldbuilding when we also get made-up words and customs, suffixes and other registers to build verisimilitude. Eg: 'Dating' (when they used 'courting' before) 'rookie mistake', 'it is what it is', 'I'm game'. And don't get me started on the sudden use of swearing...

The silly humour is still there at times and it's still eyerolling. It's gotten a bit better, but mileage will vary. I did love a certain character's armour though (if you know, you know.)

I know he says his prose is workman-like and he doesn't want to fake it, but I'd love more description. Brandon can create some beautiful turns of phrases when he wants too, so I'd like to see a little more of that.

Pacing is full-on, but you'll often wish to stay with a particular POV and then you'll get a quick change. All adds to the Sanderlanche, but I haven't been able to stop myself flicking ahead occasionally to my peril!

No offense to the shippers, but I feel Brando is def pushing Kal towards a particular ship that makes me feel uncomfortable. Not Szeth, someone else (no spoilers).

Very excited to continue, but I know it's going to break my heart!

[last-herondale]

Almost pt. 4

Bucky Barnes x femreader!

/ Steve Rogers x femreader!

Angst, heartbreak, fluff

Warnings: bit of swearing

AN: helloooo next part is out! I’m excited to see where this series goes!!! Honestly I love Bucky and Steve so this is fun 😆

Enjoy 🤘🏼

The physical pain took a couple of weeks to heal. Steve was a steady nurse, changing out your bandages every few hours until the cuts seemed healed. Whatever the poison was, it had done deep damage to your body. It took you a week to regain the use of your muscles. Sam checked in now and again as Steve helped you recover. He was keeping recon on the Hydra base, watching for any new movements since your blunder with the trap, but since then there had been nothing new to report. They both agreed that the mission would be on standby until you were back to full health. Steve had nearly had you shipped out back to New York to recover, but a frantic panic of yours seemed to change his mind.

While you were confined to the safehouse, Steve hardly left your side. It was nice to be taken care of for a change. It was something you weren’t used to. Something you didn’t know how to process. He was patient and kind, even though you felt that you didn’t deserve it. You had fucked up. Big time. Nearly blew the mission with your recklessness and now it was being pushed back to accommodate you. While you would have been content to wallow in your pity, Steve would not allow it.

He pushed you to do your physical therapy everyday, cooked for you, helped you in and out of the shower in the most respectful way he possibly could. He made sure you took your medicine when you needed to. He was attentive to your every need.

When you were finally able to speak clear and full sentences again, one day while he was changing out your bandages you felt a sudden burst of emotion escape your lips.

“Why are you doing this?”

Steve ignored you for a moment, finishing off the last bandage on your left arm before he finally looked up at you with an unimpressed look.

“Because you’re injured and need help, now hold still while I-“

You snatched the bandages out of his hands with your other arm and glared at him defiantly.

“Why. Are. You. Doing. This?” You asked again, your voice becoming stern.

“Doing what exactly?” Steve asked, just as irritated, “Making sure you don’t die?”

“Why are you being so… nice to me? I’ve been on missions with you before, and whenever other people get injured-“

“Are you saying I don’t help my team?” Steve challenged.

You looked him square in the eyes and set your jaw tightly. “Not like this.”

There was a flicker of movement in Steve’s mouth. You knew you had hit a nerve there. While Steve was a great leader, the best probably this world would ever see, he never was this attentive to his injured teammates. When Barton had his side blown off during Ultron’s attack, he did not play bedside nurse for him until he was better. So why here? Why now?

He must have seen that you weren’t going to give up so easily. He sighed.

“I’m doing this because of Bucky.”

You felt your chest go cold.

“He told you to—“

“He hasn’t told me to do anything.” Steve interjected quickly, almost to save himself from saying the wrong thing, “He doesn’t even know what’s happened here, no one but Tony does. No, I’m doing this because of what you did for him.”

“Then why–”

“If you’d just keep quiet for a second, I will explain!” he said, oddly flustered. You had never seen Steve Rogers, fucking Captain America, get flustered. You sat back, crossing your arms and mimicking locking your mouth. He sighed again and drew on hand through his hair.

“Look, I’m not clueless, okay? I was there when Bucky and Nat broke up. I know what he went through after that… what he turned into once she walked out of his life. And I know you and Nat are friends, and I know you might take her side on the matter, but Bucky is my best friend, okay? So I saw what went on behind the scenes too from the other side.

“Neither of them were good for each other. What they had wasn’t healthy. It was toxic and strained and fueled by lust. When that fizzled out it was bound to fall apart.”

You were surprised by the information that Steve knew. Not that you thought that he was clueless, but you didn’t think that Bucky had shared that information with him. It made you feel a bit stupid. Of course he would tell his best friend. Maybe the idea of being the only one Bucky confided in had made you feel special, but now your ego deflated a bit.

“I tried to be there for him at first. Admittedly, I know very little about relationships and breakups. I didn’t know how to be there for him, and he wasn’t going to be truthful with his feelings because that’s just Bucky, stubborn as always. So it was easy for me to tell myself that he was okay, and let him handle things the way he needed to. He has been through so much already, who was I to tell him how to live his life?

“But then you started to show up more and more and he began to get better. I couldn’t explain how or why. I thought maybe that you two had been… together as his rebound, which I now know is not the case!” Steve said a bit sheepishly.

“I didn’t do anything,” You mumbled, “I just hung out with the two of you on the weekends.”

“Cut the shit. I know you stayed with him whenever I would tap out early. I know you would go babysit him whenever he got too drunk and in his feelings to distinguish what was real or fake. You were there for him when I wasn’t. You cared for him when he wouldn’t have the decency to care for himself, and you never belittled him for it. You cannot sit there and tell me that was nothing.”

You drew your mouth into a hard line. You remained silent, and Steve just sighed again and continued on.

“Just answer me this, and answer me honestly. Do you think Bucky is a broken man?”

You froze. That was something Bucky had said that night on the balcony. “She is broken, like me.” There were a lot of words that came to mind when you thought about Bucky, but broken was never one of them.

“No,” you whispered, “He is not broken. He is hurting, and he is stupid, and he is so irritably stubborn that it drives me insane… but he isn’t broken. He thinks that there is some part of him that is irredeemable. That he doesn’t deserve good things to happen to him in his life and it breaks my heart…”

You were crying again, but you didn’t care. Trying to hold back everything you felt for so long had taken all the strength you had. And now you were the weakest you had ever been. You looked to Steve, wondering if he saw you as a crying mumbling mess, but instead he pulled you in for a gentle hug. His large muscled arms comforted you in an embrace that seemed to warm you down to your bones.

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered, “I see how much you love him, how much you care for him. I feared that he would push that love away, that he would hurt you during his time of pain. I wish I could make him see just how special you are.”

Steve’s words hit the tender nerves of your soul and you sobbed against his shoulder. He caressed your hair and held you tighter as you shuddered and cried against him. You felt ridiculous, crying like a helpless baby, but Steve just murmured comforting words and held you securely in place.

“It hurts… I don’t know what to do anymore. I’ve lost myself in him… and he doesn’t want me. It’s stupid, it's so stupid… I feel so…empty. I shouldn’t have come on this mission. I’m so…sorry Steve. I’m sorry.”

Raw emotion cut through you as you were a blubbering mess. Steve just held you through it, not judging you or reprimanding you. He was calm, he was gentle, and he was patient. He kept telling you how good you were, how big your heart was. It was strange to be in this position. To be the one being reassured, to be the one being built back up. His words calmed your soul. You don’t remember falling asleep in his arms, but you woke up with him on the couch, his arms still wrapped around you as his head was tilted back on the couch.

You watched him a bit as he slept, not daring to move or stir him awake. You felt warm and safe in his arms. It was nice. He was beautiful, that you could not deny. His features were soft and gentle in his sleep. The rising and falling of his chest was even and steady. You slowly placed your head on his chest, listening to the even beating of his heart as you let yourself fall back asleep. For the first night since you had left New York, you did not dream of James Buchanan Barnes.

~

The next morning you were up, making sure to carefully untangle yourself from Steve’s embrace. He was still asleep when you started making breakfast. It wasn’t until the bacon started sizzling in the pan that you heard him grumble from the couch and pick his head up.

“Good morning,” you greeted, a soft smile on your face.

“Morning,” Steve said as he rubbed his face, “You look better.”

“I feel great, honestly.”

You fixed him a plate of bacon, eggs, toast, and a cup of coffee as he came to sit down at the small wooden table. He gave you an awkward smile as he took a sip of his coffee. You sat down next to him, a cup of coffee in front of you and a slice of toast. The medicine that you were on made you have a low appetite, but you didn’t mind making breakfast for Steve. You thought that it was the least you could do after everything he did for you.

The two of you chatted a bit while he ate his breakfast. He updated you on the situation with Hydra. Sam was able to infiltrate the base on his own, undetected, in the middle of the night. He stole their plans to ship out large quantities of the poison that had afflicted you. The shipment was planned to ship out to the states in a months time. Steve relayed this mission to Tony who suggested sending his own bots in to take care of it. Meaning you would be going home soon.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Steve,” you said softly as he finished his meal. He gave you a soft smile and just shrugged a bit.

You took up his plate and put them in the sink and tidied the kitchen as he went to take a shower. You packed your things, folding up your gear and clothes into your small pack. Steve had done your laundry for you while you had been indisposed. You smiled. It was such a small thing, but so many small things that Steve had done for you over the past few weeks had seemed to heal you in ways that you never thought you would heal from.

You felt a warm sensation in your chest.

You heard him come out of the bathroom. He was shirtless, with a towel draped around his neck as his blonde hair still dripped. “Showers open,” he said as he stepped into the room.

You faced him, gazing at him as you watched a few drops of water fall down his chest. You felt your face grow hot, and stumbled a bit as you tried to step past him. He caught you by the elbow and pulled you up, holding you a bit close to him as he chuckled.

“How many times am I going to have to catch you before we—“

You don’t know what came over you. What made you think that this was okay? All you know is that you leaned forward and kissed Steve gently on the mouth. His eyes widened in surprise, and the shock of it made you immediately pull back.

“I’m sorry— I shouldn’t have—“

But he had put his hand under your chin. His blue eyes searched yours a moment, in an incredibly soft and tender way. It made your stomach jump the way he looked at you now. As he leaned in again, slowly, allowing you to push away at any moment you wanted, you could smell the scent of his shampoo as his lips returned to yours.

He was soft and gentle. His hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you a bit closer to him. He broke off for a second, his eyelids were half closed as he searched your face.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, “If you don’t want… if this isn’t something you are comfortable with…”

You raised up on your toes to reach his level and kissed him again. You let your hands wrap around his neck and tangle into his wet hair. Steve let out a pleased sound, and his strong hands lifted you from your waist and held you closer to him.

You thought that this would feel wrong. That kissing Steve would ruin everything between you. You thought maybe he would be angry with you, for kissing him after confessing your love for Bucky just the night before. But here he was, kissing you, murmuring your name as he carried you over to the bed in the room.

Had he really done all he did this week for bucky's sake? Or was there something else? Some other reason why he had been so keen on taking care of you? Your mind tried to process these questions, but the feel of Steve’s mouth on your neck quickly shoved those thoughts away.

He broke apart long enough to lock eyes with you. He was over you on the bed, his eyes a bit wild as he looked at you. Your chests heaved together, his bare and shiny from the water.

“Are you sure?” Steve asked.

The only response you gave, was a gentle nod of your head as you let your hand gently scrape down his bare chest. He gave a shaky breath and shook his head.

“You will be the death of me, you know that?”

All other conversation fell away. All other feelings and thoughts and memories disappeared. There was only you and him. And for the first time in a while, you felt whole.

Part 5

[layton-heritage-posts]

i cant fucking believe wall is losing the poll. this is bullshit

Fr like I swear this is just one of those things where it's blatantly obvious that no one actually pays attention to the character arc that happened in the first few frames of eternal diva.

Like, the way that the wall was completely coaxed in darkness the first four frames? That was art. It told us, the viewer, that hint coints are everywhere if we just know where to look for them. Also, the way that the walls facial features don't move at all was really good foreshadowing for it's amazing character arc later in the movie when it has to choose which Don Paolo to shoot when he was fighting with his clone, and it shot them both!!! That was raw as hell and you all just ignored it because the "Flora kills a man" arc happened right after it. And yeah, obviously, that arc was amazing in every way, but it really bothers me how everyone says that the movie peaked there when there are so many other good moments. Like the moment Descole accidentally walked into his reflection because he changed so much after the burned strawberry incident that he couldn't recognize himself anymore? Poetic. That moment where Luke accidentally talked to the nefarious pikaratfish who described to him the secret to achieving Godhood? Superb. And of course, since this post was originally about my top Blorbo of all time, the wall, that moment at frame 13 where the light reaches it and we see Laytons shadow projected onto it????? Holy shit man when I told you, I almost cried. The symbolism of Layton bringing the light into the walls live is, admittedly, VERY heavy-handed. But the symbolism in the scene where Randall smokes a fat blunt was just as heavy-handed, and no one cared about it there. Anyway the way the light both reached the wall through Layton but also the way he blocks some of it off? Ough. My heart. And yeah, people will use this as justification to say, "See, without Layton, there would be no wall character arc. That proves he's the better character! WRONG, Layton is just a tool for telling the story of the wall. He's a part of it, yes, but the main focus is very much the wall itself. You just pay more attention to him because you ship him with Randall, and your fandompilled brain has already forgotten the ability to observe media beyond it's shipping aspects.

Let me make this clear now, btw, since I know I'm gonna have a bunch of annoying anti-wall people in my inbox later who are gonna be like:

"How can you enjoy the wall as a character??? Don't you know the wall is really problematic due to it's history In Germany from 1961 - 1989???"

To those people, a quick info. I'm literally german, so stop accusing me of "history-bending-wall-favoritism" or whatever you wanna call it. Liking the wall as a character is not harming anyone. It's literally fine.

[wheneclipsefalls]

Persuasion

A Ma Neteyam Drabble

Pairing: aged up omega Neteyam x Male alpha oc

Important: the events of this drabble take place after the completed Ma Neteyam first book.

Summary: Neteyam still has a lot to learn when it comes to persuading his protective alpha.

A/N: I woke up this morning and this little scene was stuck in my head, demanding to be written. Kind of random but I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: aged up Neteyam, abo universe, sub/dom dynamic, power imbalance, sexual themes, protective alpha, male x male, swearing

“Please paskalin!” Neteyam practically whined.

“Sweet words aren’t going to change my mind, Neteyam.” Kxolo countered and Neteyam knew that was true based on the lack of pet name tacked on to the response. Still, looking behind him he found Vamai giving a gesture that urged him to continue. This was a rare opportunity after all, it wasn’t every day that a new abandoned hovercraft was found in the forest. The omega was more than surprised that Lo’ak and him had ever missed it during their adventures as children. They had scoured anywhere near the battlefield for hours, without their parents’ knowledge of course, and gleefully took in every piece of Sky People technology with wonder and delight. 

Vamai seemed to share the same curiosity as she kept sending him pleading looks. The common consensus appeared to be that this negotiation was up to him. 

“It’s been abandoned for years. Most likely one of the ships that went down during the first war.” Neteyam grabbed at the alpha’s battle band, forcing him to stop walking and face him once more. One look at those pleading eyes and Kxolo was already letting out a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Neteyam then let his boldness come through, slipping a few fingers underneath the bands of his loincloth straps and using that to shuffle the taller man closer.

“I’m not sending the two of you out there alone-”

“We won’t be alone. Lo’ak will be there.” Vamai chimed in, although her ears dropped back when she realized she had cut the Olo’eyktan off.

“That’s not making quite the argument you think it is.” Kxolo muttered, almost too low for them to pick up on. 

“Please yawnetu. We would be so careful.” Neteyam’s whispered words cut through the tension with grace. The alpha’s expression softened as he looked down at the pouting male, and for a moment it appeared that the battle had been won. However, Kxolo was carefully prying the omega’s hands away from his loincloth straps. His long fingers wrapped around them easily before bringing them towards his lips for a gentle kiss. 

“Baby boy,” Neteyam allows himself to get lost in the pools of affection draping from his mate’s lips. “You know I just want to keep you safe.” Kxolo rubbed his cheek tenderly along the inside of Neteyam’s wrist, effectively scent marking his little mate. The omega’s tail however was already lowering in disappointment. He knew where the conversation was heading.  

“These abandoned war sites are no place for my sweet omega.” His tone dripped like honey and Neteyam could already feel himself shuffling closer in response. “Even your father has said so.” 

Kxolo softly ran his thumb over the omega’s bottom lip but Neteyam’s nose was already scrunched and eyes slitted into daggers. 

“He says that about everything!” He ripped himself from the embrace, almost staggering over the curving roots along the ground. “You two always choose the most annoying shit to agree on.” 

From behind he could hear Vamai’s footsteps racing over, preparing to do some damage control but it was too late. 

“Neteyam!” Kxolo’s tone cut through the air like a knife and unfortunately the omega was all too familiar with interpreting the threats woven into one word. 

“I think what Neteyam is trying to say-”

“This Sky Demon technology can be dangerous and unpredictable. Eywa only knows what it is-”

“No you just don’t know what it is. I do. Like I said it’s a hovercraft that crashed-”

“It does not matter what it is.” Kxolo's voice was slowly rising to follow Neteyam’s own. “Your father already explained about the tracking…capabilities of these machines.” 

This made Neteyam’s eyebrows furrow for a moment. It was always an interesting conversation when discussing technology with Kxolo who had very limited knowledge or experience with such things. 

“Are you talking about trackers? Like tracking chips?”

“They could find you. Snatch you away…”

Kxolo’s words droned on in the background that Neteyam could no longer hear over the blood rushing in his ears. Of course his father would opt to tell his mate only about the worst parts of these ships. It seemed that the only times the two of them appeared to be getting along was when they were rambling on about the omega’s safety and the dangers present out there. Naturally, his father seemed to have realized that painting technology in a certain light to Kxolo would keep the boy from wandering into forbidden territory without Jake even raising a finger. 

It was genius. 

And it made Neteyam’s hands clench into fists. 

“You don’t even know what you are talking about!” Neteyam screeched and Vamai was already pulling his shoulder back. 

“Nete” She whispered in a pleading warning. Things were already spiraling out of control but so was his mood. It was taking a downward drop that was far from being able to rectify itself. 

“The answer is no, Neteyam.” 

Kxolo continued down the path and Vamai was already running after him, ready to make her own case and clean up Neteyam’s mess. 

“Fine, I don’t need your permission anyways.” His words came out as hardly more than a whisper but Kxolo’s tail flicked to attention. Within an instant the alpha had turned on his heel and stomped over toward his mate. 

“Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan if you go out there without my permission, you and I will have a problem! A big problem! And I don’t just mean a little swat on the bum. Do you understand?!” The alpha’s deep voice boomed across the forest. The noise was enough to flit several swarms of birds to the sky. Neteyam couldn’t help but curl in on himself as his mate’s large frame created a looming shadow over him. 

“That goes for you too.” The Olo’eyktan sternly pointed at Vamai who was already raising her hands in surrender. 

“Neteyam.” Kxolo pressed for an answer once more.

“Yes alpha.” The omega weakly whispered, unable to lift his gaze away from the muddy forest floor. He watched as his mate’s feet came into his line of view. He bit his lip in anticipation. Anger had swiftly scrambled away and now all that remained was the pressing desire to submit and cry all rolled into one. 

A flat nose traced along the edge of his cheek but the omega still refused to meet those golden eyes. He kept his focus firmly planted on the ground, even bothering to shut his eyes when Kxolo had stooped to bring them nose to nose. 

“Yawntutsyìp, look at me.” Kxolo’s large hands bracketed either side of Neteyam’s face. It brought a warmth that always settled low in the omega’s gut. “Come on.” 

He reluctantly obeyed, trying to push back the gathering tears. 

“Come now, baby boy. Please don’t cry.” Kxolo whispered against his lips then placed a kiss there. And another. And another. Neteyam’s own lips were slow to respond but that didn’t sway the alpha away. “I know you are upset…” He sighed but Neteyam wasn’t sure if that was the correct word for his feelings. More than anything, he felt overwhelmed, bubbling up a desire to be held and comforted. “But I promise to make it up to you.”

Neteyam allowed his eyes to close this time when their lips met in a passionate but languid kiss. He seeped into the male’s arms and took every bit of physical connection possible. It slowly eased his tears away. Subconsciously he chased after the male’s lips when they finally pulled away. 

“I promise.” Kxolo’s hips smoothly sealed against his own. Heat coiled at the pit of Neteyam’s stomach. Truly he knew that the alpha had a plethora of creative ways to make it up to him, ways that had his nerves tingling in anticipation. 

Out of the corner of his eye Neteyam could just barely make out Vamai’s small form, her arms crossed and hip popped. Even with that one look he could practically hear her voice say, “We need to work on your negotiation skills.”

Taglist: @kayjaydee17 @neteyamssyulang @theunfortunateplace @4ashes-stuff @perfectprofessorloverapricot @creepytoes88 @namjooncrabs @young5643-blog

[runicmagitek]

I am giving you Ashe 👀

HELL YEAH AND THANK YOU 🥰

How I feel about this character.

LOVE LOVE LOVE!!!! Definitely one of my favorite ladies in the series. I love how unapologetic she is in her anger and quest for revenge. I love how determined she is to succeed, even if it means doing a bad. I love how so many people try to manipulate her and she keeps marching on. I love how SHE'S the one the gods essentially pick as their chosen one and she just flips them off to carve her own path. I love that she's allowed to be messy and wrong AND right all at the same time. I just love Ashe!! She's awesome!

All the people I ship romantically with this character.

My biggest ship for her is with Basch, but honestly I can swing so many ways with her lol especially with how many dudes keep showing up to her defense or try to woo her. I do remember some silly video back in the day that summed up a bunch of things in XII and it highlighted the "romance", but just kept playing clips of like, every instance some dude was standing next to Ashe while playing the chorus of White Flag by Dido and it always cracked me up. BUT ANYHOW yeah I really love her with Basch. Their complicated history is spicy alone, but I really love his loyalty to her, despite Ashe wanting him to jump off a cliff. And the fact he never corrects her or even speaks up during that slap in the face scene is just sooooo *clenches fist* I swear if Ashe had actually gone the "let's blow up the Empire" plan, Basch would've followed her to the bitter end and I dig that. And also I'm here for the bittersweet "we can never be together bc we're both too committed to our duties" endgame scenario for them. Also the ending FMV when she's trying to keep it together while Balthier is not responding and Basch just puts a hand on her shoulder..... Square did that for me personally (ok I'll stop rambling sorry I Just Think They're Neat)

My non-romantic OTP for this character.

I dunno like, everyone?? She's got some great interactions with the whole cast and I love seeing everyone support her! Ashe & People Supporting Her Cause is a great platonic vibe.

My unpopular opinion about this character.

I'd say her outfit, but I don't think that's remotely unpopular lol. Tho now that I'm thinking about it (and I'm gonna date myself hard here) I remember when her initial character portrait was revealed and there was some... backlash, I think?? I can't 100%, but I DO remember she was changed and her face looked less cutesy in the final game. There were a handful of people who were upset at that, but I'm honestly glad they went with the final look. It suits her!

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

We see bitty!Ashe with a pet chocobo in the ending illustrations and MAN I would've loved if they leaned into that within the main narrative!! I wanna know more about Ashe and her love for chocobos 😭 this is the important lore I'm here for.

[consumerofsoup]

alrighty dear readers (those of you on tumblr at least), I gotta take a break writing for the foreseeable future (which I hope just means a few weeks??). I was doing a bit better since February, enough to get the first chapter of my robovenom fic out, then depression hit me like a ton of bricks. I've started new meds buuuut they haven't worked yet (low dose to start), and I literally cannot write for the life of me. I tried the other day and it sucked all energy outta me to write two sentences T~T. my mind can conjure up all the shit but my body and brain just can't right now. I'm hoping the meds will start working soon, but until then my brain is not functioning properly. I felt it would be good to inform yall just so you'd know

in return, I will list some of the fics I plan to write in the future :3

-anon who sent me an ask have no fear, once I have the energy to edit, I'll post the first chapter of the character reaction to royalblue fic!! I was able to finish the first chapter before my mental hit the fan, and I have two additional chapters planned focused on Dizzy and Leo. I might do more in the future if I feel like writing others too?? so anyone is welcomed to request a character they'd like and I'll try my best for you once I'm feeling better :3

-ROBOVENOM FIC. I don't think I'm going to change anything about it atm (aaaaa seeing as Venom and Robo-Ky are in strive and also Venom is batman now??), so basically they are going to cater and talk to people where they cater. Romeo and Delilah and Sin will become friends basically along with other interactions. also in the epilogue there will be Anji and Baiken propaganda because they are cute

-SPEAKING OF ANJI AND BAIKEN: I honestly have only vague ideas at this point. also I don't know their ship name, but I will find out when I tag this post. and also them coparenting Delilah. maybe them reminiscing and also kissing?? these thoughts can and will be fleshed out at some point

-a billion million royalblue chaosdaryl fics. they are the one thing keeping me sane right now I swear

-royalblue fic 1: fantasy(?) au in which Chaos is a eldritch monster and Daryl is a human. fake sacrifices happen every year, Daryl wants to stop them, goes and confronts the monster and then whoopsies!! he accidentally figures out Chaos doesn't actually kill anyone he's just in it for drama and they fall in love yay. also they go travel together

-royalblue fic 2: it's just Daryl asking for a hug early in their relationship. writing is a method of revealing yourself or something blablabla I just want to write them being sappy okay?? okay

-royalblue fic 3: a loose collection of love confession prompts that inspired me because I think love confessions are my favorite scene to write?? the prompt was a batch of 20 different types of love confessions, as of now I have ideas for 9 of them (I have a really cute idea for one of the prompts in which Chaos writes Daryl anonymous love letters, then Daryl finds out and writes one back :3)

-a lot of other idea rattling around. one being an asuraven and lovepotion double date (lovepotion is Elphelt x I-No, they are my guilty pleasure ship). another being asuraven building a rube goldberg machine that drops a bowling ball on Raven's skull. that one is a joke. another vague idea of a lovepotion fic.

ANYWAY there ya go, I really hope I'll get better quick so I can get back to doing super fun things like writing for yall!! I can't properly express how much I appreciate the people who read my fics. this little community (especially with royalblue) means a lot to me and it boggles my mind that people read my work and like it!! I never thought I'd share any of it, but I'm super glad I decided to. you people mean the world to me, so I want to get better and show my appreciation through my writing

[m4rs-ex3]

ra.h ooga rbroobgarahahrhhagit. ä

so at first i was like "PHEW the shadowpaw's with them" and then i was like "the shadowpaw's...... still..... with them" so pray for my baby

i am SO pumped for this side quest line-up. also i love how corvus is just like " tf??? "

what a beautiful kiss! happy pride month amiright!! we're in danger!!!

eeheehee this is from 6x01

now this. this is interesting. i suppose claudia got over her lil fit and just came back to terry like "ok yea hey baby i can barely walk 😞" which is admittedly very funny to me. it's like a child "running away" for like 20 minutes. also admittedly i was quite glad that terry was getting tf outta there but yk him just brushing her hair (n i swear i can see a cute lil smile) is absolutely adorable so i'm gonna just let y'all do ur thing (although claudia i do have my eye on you.) on another note i see claudia's fit hung up so OH MY GOD i'm getting hyped for an outfit change.

yeah this gets its own post

i know exactly (okay i'm like 99.9999% sure) what's going on here but idk are we still pretending the secret scene is still secret? i'll just say that @raayllum you were spot on in a certain fic

the most interesting thing to me here is the moon collar, but as it has been pointed out you can see the frozen ship in some shots so i'm hoping that this is just a quick skirmish before the starscraper

ok the perspective here is fucking with me. cuz that's definitely a tiny lil callum and rayla in the center their, but the dynamics with the shadows and the dimensions of this room..... the math ain't mathin. now i am trying my damnedest to not connect every size-dubious thing to "i swallowed her" but i cannot help it

so we're just playing monkey in the middle with the thing now?? anyway ASTRID MY GIRL i love her sm already. now i should prolly be at least a little scared here but stella's chillin and i trust stella therefore i'm choosing to trust astrid. please do not let me down

shes fine

ok can we talk about this? because what the literal fuck is going on. we're in a burning wooden building and rayla's doing backflips to get to the coins which are just. hanging from a string????

ok i'm sorry this is absolutely hilarious. it's giving "viren's body slip sliding off of the raft" in the sense that it's violence that is just peak comedy to me and me only and for no reason.

oh brother THIS GUY STINKS

at least they made karim look goofy as shit

she sun on my seed til i

well this has been fun

[childotkw]

hi!! i really, really, REALLY love your writing I'm not kidding when I say I'm utterly in love with your style (and your mind because you're brilliant! YOU HAVE GALAXY BRAIN!!) I wouldn't say I'm a picky reader exactly but..well let's just say that I can love a story but it's rare for me to read something and then instead of just loving the story, I fall in love with the writing itself too! I swear when I first discovered you it felt like I found a whole new world! after reading everything you posted on ao3, I camped here for days reading everything else regardless of ships/no ship/plot. It's been years since then haha I still go here XD I was that CAPTIVATED. MESMERIZED. IN AWE. STILL AM.

With THAT SAID, before I get way too emotional and forget my second reason for this ask hahahshs I'm not sure if someone has already asked this before but do you have something like an outline/thoughts process of any of your published works? or just the general idea of your writing process! I'm genuinely interested in how you plan and sort things out! If that's alright of course >_< I would love to learn a thing or two!

Hello hello!! Thank you so much for your kind words - it's great to hear you've enjoyed my stuff! 🥰

I have a whole bunch of posts in this tag (#writing tips) where I talk about my writing process / plans, if you want to have a look at those as well!

For me, every story honestly has a different approach. Some pop up nearly fully formed (e.g., Consuming Shadows), while others change and morph depending on the day and the phase of the moon (e.g., ybtm(ibty)).

I suppose I'm lucky in that I've never really struggled with coming up with ideas. If anything I have far too much fun letting my imagination get away from me 😅

But I always try and have the overarching plot line mapped out before I commit to writing a story. I always sit down and map out a general storyline (different acts, if you will, or what the main character growth moments will be), so that I have a rough outline to starting working towards.

For example, when I first sat down to start working on all your secrets (all my lies) last week, the first thing I did was establish a timeline.

I mapped out from the day Regulus' consciousness comes back in time (1 August 1976, for those interested), all the way to two years in the future (currently at May 1978), and wrote down, month by month, what events would take place. It's not necessarily set in stone, but by having a timeline written out, it gives me an idea of where the peaks and troughs in my story would be. It gave me a solid understanding of how my pacing might need to change, or how certain events need to be added / rearranged so that there are never any significant months of inaction for the characters.

By having this timeline in hand, I can now start filling in the smaller moments (how I get from Point A to Point B in the story), which gives me a way to start plotting out my chapters and what will happen in individual scenes.

Hope that gives you an idea of how my brain works? If you have any other specific questions, feel free to ask!

[dontyoufinditstrange]

From Under The Cork Tree Lyrics That Alter My Brain Chemistry

Our Lawyer Made Us Change The Name Of This Song So We Wouldn't Get Sued

"the ribbon on my wrist says 'do not open before christmas'" "we're only liars, but we're the best" "its just past 8 and i'm feeling young and reckless"

Of All The Gin Joints In All The World

"i used to waste my time dreaming of being alive, now i only waste it dreaming of you" "we're sleeping through all the memories"

Dance, Dance

"tonight it's 'it can't get much worse' versus ' no one should ever feel like'" "i'm two quarters and a heart down" "and i don't wanna forget how your voice sounds" "these words are all i have so i'll write them so you need them just to get by" "this is the way they'd love if they knew how misery loves me"

Sugar, We're Going Down

"i'm just a notch in your bedpost, but you're just a line in a song" "a loaded god complex, cock it and pull it" "isn't it messed up how i'm just dying to be him?"

Nobody Puts Baby In The Corner

"i keep my jealousy close cause its all mine" "hand behind this pen relives a failure every day" "so wear me like a locket around your throat, i'll wear you down, i'll watch you choke"

I've Got A Dark Alley And A Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth (Summer Song)

"we're the kids who feel like dead ends" "and the poets are just kids who didnt make it and never had it at all" "force our smiles, baby, half dead, from comparing myself to everyone else around me" "please put the doctor on the phone cause i'm not making any sense" "blame everyone but me for this mess" "and my back has been breaking from this heavy heart" "i'm hopelessly hopeful you're just hopeless enough"

7 Minutes In Heaven (Atavan Halen)

"i keep tellin myself, i keep tellin myself i'm not the desperate type, but you've got me looking through blinds" "trying to forget everything that isn't you" "i'm not going home alone, cause i dont do too well on my own"

Sophomore Slump Or Comeback Of The Year

"cause i swear i'd burn the city down to show you the light" "no matter what they say, don't believe a word" "cause i'll keep singing this lie if you keep believing it" "take our tears, put em on ice" "ashamed of the way the songs and the words own the beating of our hearts" "got a sunset in my veins" "i need to take a pill to make this town feel okay" "i need to keep you like this in my mind"

Champagne For My Real Friends, Real Pain For My Sham Friends

"you are a getaway car, rush of blood to the head" "we only do it for the scars and stories, but not the fame" "at least everyone is trying, everyone is shining, everyone deserves the flames, but its such a shame" "the sounds of this small town make my ears hurt" "the tide's out, the ship's run aground, we drown traitors in shallow water"

I Slept With Someone In Fall Out Boy And All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me

"you're the only place that feels like home" "i'm the first kid to write of hearts, lies, and friends" "i am sorry my conscience called in sick again" "i've got arrogance down to a science" "they call kids like us vicious and carved out of stone" "but for what we've become we just feel more alone" "so progress report: i am missing you to death"

A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More "Touch Me"

"you're just the girl all the boys wanna dance with and i'm just the boy who's had too many chances" "i don't blame you for being you, but you can't blame me for hating it" "write me off, give up on me, cause darling what did you expect?"

Get Busy Living Or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part To Save The Scene And Stop Going To Shows)

"we never stood a chance and i'm not sure if it matters" "i'm mailing letters to addresses in a ghost town" "i know this hurts, it was meant to" "it's mind over you don't, don't matter" "it must be said again that all us boys are just screaming into microphones for attention because we're just so bored" "we never knew that you would pick it apart" "i'm falling apart to songs about hips and hearts"

XO

"i left my conscience pressed between the pages of the bible in the drawer" "love never wanted me, but i took it anyway" "choose love or sympathy" "loose lips sink ships"

[peskyvinot]

sometimes I think about how random and thus insanely cool our fav duo/trios formed. like

scar/grian/mumbo. you can't even really pinpoint the moment they became The trio. the mumscarian agenda. mumbo just picked up that random fresh-out-of-problematic-highschool-series creatieve mode Player out of NOWHERE and became besties with him, later seeing him join hermitcraft and change the server forever

scar and grian had almost no interactions up to the build off in s6. then the magic of s7 happened. newfound besties.

then s8 happened and well. found family doesn't spare Anyone. and it's like- sure scar and grian got closer in s9 when mumbo wasn't that active but then the reunion happened (that one mumbo video. OHHH that one mumbo video) where you don't even QUESTION that yes. they are THE trio of best buds

but then we dig deeper. rendoc???? (btw yes um using ship names as a placeholder) been on the same server for YEARS had some chemistry chemistry s5 and that one hippie/area77 storyline but then almost out of nowhere BOOM the most iconic duo of s8 and onwards. like. I'm not stupid it's all in the behind the scenes and becoming friends that lead to such iconic videos BUT LIKE.

can I talk about ethubs. I'll admit I didn't watch mindcrack in full I have no idea what went down there but every time I Watch early mindcrack/ooge/etc clips I'm like "OK this shouldn't have worked. but why it do. WHY IT DO"

xb and keralis. if they were separate content creators that never interacted you would never in a billion years guess they would click. but knowing what we do in that universe of ours, I will argue they're one of the most iconic duos.

impulse gem and pearl. the soup group. once again the s9 magic happened. it was an rng roll that put those 3 together in the first episode. and it worked SO WELL and I STILL can't really put into words why

giggs. I don't think anyone would ever argue with me abiut how iconic they are. but thinking about how I remember the first ever gigs streams before they even adopted the fandom "gigs" name. I kid you not grian&scar interacted with skizz like thrice before that. and yet they clicked INSTANTLY. I think it's the power of getting to know "new" people (I would argue even grimpulse didn't Know each other that well before phasmo. I know. the 4 pre-s9 gripulse enjoyers put down your forks) with your besties by your side. imp&skizz and desert duo get bonded over the horror game yeah tell THAT to a pre gigs fan. and YET. (also the way gem is so awesome she fit RIGHT IN. ANF I WOYLD ARGUE BY PURE CHANCE TOO. she was one of those "teaching _how to play phasmo" one off guests. but she was so awesome she stayed)

jimmy and tango. it is truly a mystery to me specifically. the only thing I woyld say was the string connecting them before dl was the silliness meter. period. but then again 2 different worlds that collided so hard the universe exploded. if the plate up streams have a say in this

boat boys. when the first dl episodes came out I didn't even Regester their duo (maybe it was because I didn't really watxh etho and deffenetely haven't watched joel before that). now tell me why their soulmate pair is THE most iconic duo for me in dl huh. and how smoothly it went on. etho and Joel. THINK ABOUT BOAT BOYS PRE DL. YEAH? YEAH. NEVER IN A BILLION YEARS WOULD I THINK. double life literally changed this fandom forever

honorable mentions: cleo and scar (+ bdubs) I can't recall a Single interaction of them pre s9 and pre limited life clockers. but BOY am I glad we have them now.

skizz and tango specifically in the whole zits polucule (/j). those 2 in particular are the funniest duo to ever duo. and s10 stapled and glued and sawn this into truition. also once again shout out to the plate up streams

P.E.T CREW??? I swear I remember the season 10 start and them basing together and starting the mail service like it was YESTERDAY. the decked out royalty my beloved. I love you. I love you.

scar and bdubs. the vibes are immaculate. can't for the life of my imagaine beau-era bdubs and scar from-this-point-in-timeline in the same voice call. their s9 & s10 thou is smth akin to magic

like ik in the bigger picture is not surprising. buy I still. I still like to think about it

[georgies-ftts]

my thoughts and opinions on this weeks episode as someone who didn’t have time to watch last weeks episode, has never watched live american telly before and has discovered a new found hatred for your adverts. Also i swear a lot.

let’s begin

(spoilers obviously don’t be a knob)

1. he cannae be captain he’s only got two stripes on his epilette why are we focusing so much on this man

2. Bobby eyeing up that gun I like that (the acting)

3. this guy is giving me uncanny valley and i don’t like it

4. hehe dongle

5. i mean fair enough… in and out just like he said

6. Hen love of my life where the hell have you been loca

7. “and you won’t be anymore either” that’s actually dead funny to me

8. husbands that saw together survive trauma together <3

9. “everyone survived” i know foreshadowing when i see it

10. there’s a lot of drunk driver hatred (as deserved) somethings gonna occurr

11. oh he’s dead… lol karma fuckhead

12. Hen, i love you but why can noone on telly give me actual realistic CPR… break them ribs girl

13. christ these american adverts are weird

14. let me tell you advertising prescription medicine isn’t actually a normal thing to do

15. I don’t know boss man am no a dr but that’s an awful lot of blood are you sure you should still be breathing????

16. “Are you happy” “Yeah, Yeah I am” i have a feeling that’s all about to change buddy

17. just me or can anyone else not see a fucking thing that’s going on this episode why’s everyone in the dark for?

18. moving on from that i love the lighting in the office scene… chefs kiss

19. EXCUSE ME SHE WAS DOING HER JOB, NEXT YOU’LL SUSPEND HER FOR CODLING THE DRUNK DRIVER AND GIVING HIM TEA AND CHEEK KISSES PISS OFFFFF

20. Why do American comm’s systems always fail whenever you actually need them

21. They were axed to pieces. I will let you off -_- this time…

22. “I didn’t shoot him” honestly… same i hope you get yer pay out boss

23. Athena please for the love of god pop a paracetamol or a codeine and chill the fuck out

24. cause it has never been hard enough for them you just had to add a bastard bomb

25. ITS BEEN 5 MINUTES WHY MORE ADVERTS

26. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU ADVERTISING TO YOUR CITIZENS

27. The Rookie ad i love it carry on

28. If he wasn’t under the influence then he was just being a cunt and hen had every right to react as such thankyou very much

29. Oh my fuck what is happening - don’t tear them apart i’ll start crying

30. Bitch you’re taking on water stop being a pussy and help

31. “Don’t test me.” Queen, you rag his arse

32. “port stabilisers are gone” surely you should be tilting like a bitch right now or did i miss a frame

33. MORE FUCKING ADVERTS????

34. why’s that lizard from london?

35. WHY ARE YOU ADVERTISING DEMENTIA MEDICATION THAT IS LITERALLY ADVERTISED ALSO AS A DEATH PILL WHAT DO YOU MEAN COMA AND DEATH THATS NOT HELPING

36. “i didn’t save him either” he quite literally refused your help despite being detained

37. didn’t get that SS Menow reference… try the Mayflower next time

38. “Saving the ship” “course she is” GIVE THEM ONE MOMENT OF PEACE PLEASE I AM BEGGING YOU

39. okay good they are tilting like a bitch i will shut my mouth

40. NO STOP TILTING LIKE A BITCH I DONT CARE ABOUT REALISM I TAKE IT BACK NO

41. HOW MANY MORE ADVERTS DO YOU NEED

42. i don’t know but all your meds just seem to be doing the opposite of.. you know… keeping you alive.

43. woah therapy flash back get me one of those

44. you forgot to mention imminent death in your therapy session Mr Sir

45. “We did what we had to do” YOU’RE ALLOWED TO LIVE TOO.

46. “I couldn’t save my first family and I can’t save you either” and what if that was my last straw Robert Nash

47. ABC you can tone down the writing now i’m fucking sobbing

48. FUCK YOU AUSTRALIAN MAN I WAS CRYING MY EYES OUT

49. glad the us also have those Haribo ads

50. first time in my almost 20 years of life where i’ve seen an ADVERT for ANTIDEPRESSANTS that also actively make you MORE DEPRESSED

51. Hen i knew you were slaying you’ve never not slayed <3

52. no need for it was there mr boss man? no didn’t think so

53. You have no jurisdiction past the Gulf of Mexico??? ummmm??? distressed cruise ship full of your citizens???? idk??? do something????

54. oh. welp. no surviving that one, have fun with poseidon my loves

55. i don’t know about you but once i’ve been capsized like that in anything bigger than a kayak im giving up…