#but ofc childe is eternal

[chattematsu]

[4.0 archon quest spoilers]

[starscourgc]

miquella being cursed with eternal childhood meaning he also lacks some mental development and is eternally naive and not understanding of how some of his actions will affect people >

[arolesbianism]

Things I realized I forgot to post part 200 billion (this one's from september wow)

[lurveinn]

AWWWWW

I re-read "it runs in the blood" and am now absolutely obsessed with the Bella/Rodolphus and Sirius dynamic. I definitely need Rodolphus' perspective on Sirius and Bella's relationship. How he would come to Lestrange Manor as a little boy just for Bella. Somehow, it feels like Rodolphus was a very distant older brother/role model (anti-role model) for mini-Sirius. If the age difference between Sirius and Bella/Rodolphus was bigger, they would really be like a very dysfunctional family (they do, but there is still a sibling relationship system there)

Not exactly what you asked for, but here is a little funny something:

----

As soon as he enters the manor, he hears loud, shrill laughter over the blaring music.

Rodolphus already has a headache, he doesn’t need this on top of it.

He makes his way towards one of the living rooms, the noise getting louder with each step, irritating him.

“Control your temper,” Orion just told him after the Wizengamot session that took forever, testing Rodolphus’ patience. “You are no longer a child.”

His brother is a child, however, a fifteen-year-old fool, and when Rodolphus peeks through the partially open door, he sees Walden’s sister perched on Rabastan’s knee, bottles of alcohol all around them.

Other little fools are drinking and dancing all around, and-

Fuck it, Rodolphus thinks, deciding against going inside and scolding them.

Fuck it. He’s tired of attempting to guard Evelyn’s virtue, or the Macnair’s good name, when clearly no one in that family bothers to do the same.

What a disgrace. The only girl in a gathering of boys, sitting there on his brother’s lap.

Bella used to be the only girl in-

Yes, but Bellatrix never behaved like this. Oh, she’d sit in a room full of men, but she commanded respect, with her back straight, her eyes narrowed, and she was interested in talking politics, not climbing into boys’ laps.

With a shrug, he decides not to waste his breath anymore, and he turns around and heads upstairs.

It’s already close to midnight, the session took hours, boring old farts loving to hear themselves talk, arguing over nothing. Even Lucius looked half asleep at Abraxas’ side by the end of it.

He heads to Bella’s room, instead of his. He rarely uses his own room, Rodolphus hasn’t stepped inside it for at least a few months, since the wedding.

Blissfully silent few months, with his brother at Hogwarts. Rabastan has only returned home for three days and already Rodolphus wants to strangle him.

He discards his annoyances, replaced with the anticipation of sneaking into Bella’s bed and holding her close.

Perhaps if she hasn’t fallen asleep, they could engage in more pleasurable activities.

Alas, when he carefully opens the door, and the room is shrouded in darkness, he doesn’t feel disappointed.

Just holding her close as he drifts asleep is a pleasure he still can’t believe he has the right to.

He walks to her dresser, where half of his clothes are, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. He discards his clothes, decides against searching for a sleeping shirt, and heads to the bed.

Bella’s sleeping form, her back turned to him, her hair all over the pillow, already makes him smile.

Until he gets close enough to see she’s not alone in bed.

On her other side, snuggled into her-

“Fucking Blacks!”

Bella blinks awake, shifts her head, though her arms remain around her cousin.

This was sweet, two years ago, when Rodolphus would risk his head, and sneak into her room in her father’s manor, only to find her there with Sirius in her bed. It was sweet. He was a child, and it filled Rodolphus with longing, imagining what a good mother Bellatrix will one day make to their own child.

But Sirius is no longer a child.

He’s grown a lot since the wedding, it seems. When he pulls the sheets of them, Sirius looks closer to a man than a child, long limbs intertwined with Bella’s, twice as thick at her, his jaw, nestled into her neck, is sharper now, had lost all pretence of a boyish form.

At least he’s dressed.

Bella smiles at him, and half of his anger melts. Well, all of his anger melts, but the annoyance doesn’t.

“He’s a grown man!” he snarls, and Bella shushes him, as if her cousin truly is a baby, not to be disturbed from his precious sleep.

“He’s thirteen!” she argues, in a whisper.

“He’s as tall as you are!”

“Shh!” Sirius stirs, but doesn’t wake, only tightens his hold on Bella.

My Bella.

This is worse than Evelyn in Rabastan’s lap! This is a married woman in bed with another man. Man-child, fine, but Sirius and Bella walk around calling each other soulmates.

That was sweet, too, years ago, when he only came up to her bellybutton.

“I haven’t seen him in months,” Bella whispers, with a pout. “I missed my sweet boy!”

“I didn’t!”

“Shh!”

“Stop shushing me!” he demands, but to his embarrassment, he does so in a whisper, too.

“Climb in,” she offers, carefully extracting an arm out of Sirius’ hold, patting the mattress behind her.

“I’m not-! Kick him out!”

“He’s drunk. Your brother let him drink half a bottle of fire whiskey!”

“So what?”

Rodolphus cannot believe he’s made to whisper in his own house, so as not to wake the boy in his wife’s bed.

“What if he throws up in his sleep?”

“Are you kidding me?!”

“Shh! Come on, climb in!”

“I’m not sharing your bed with him!”

She shrugs. “Then leave and let me sleep.”

Unbelievable.

Rodolphus stomps out- though he takes care to do it silently. Oh, how he’d love to slam the door behind him, but…he doesn’t.

He sulks, once inside his own room. His bed looks cold and uninviting.

Perhaps he should go downstairs and yell at his brother. It’s his fault Sirius is in Bella’s bed, after all, if he got the boy drunk.

What he should do, is hunt Orion down and drag him here, to get his son.

But Orion is also probably in a bed he shouldn’t be in, and he wouldn’t be best pleased with the interruption.

He lectured Rodolphus enough in the past few hours, no need to expose himself to that cold glare of his for more than it is needed.

Twenty minutes later, Rodolphus carefully climbs into Bella’s bed.

He’ll just have to pretend it’s like two years ago, and that Sirius is still small and cute, and not this horrible tempered teenager he’s turning into.

He was never cute, he remembers. Always a little shit. But it was easier to suffer him back then.

Bella giggles when Rodolphus settles at her back. “You’re such a baby,” she whispers. “Men never grow up, it seems.”

“Shh,” Rodolphus admonishes, mockingly, and she only giggles harder. “When will he be gone?”

“He leaves for Greece in two days.”

Thank the gods. Now Rodolphus has to find a way to get rid of his brother as well, send him to visit some of their relatives in France, maybe, and he can have his wife and his manor and his peace back.

His irritation is gone, however. If he doesn’t think too hard about it, it’s as if Sirius isn’t there at all.

He rests his head against Bella’s shoulder, and he falls asleep relatively fast.

In the morning, he wakes with Sirius grinning above him. “You snore,” he informs Rodolphus, and before Rodolphus can throw him out of the bed, Bella comes out of the bathroom and gives him a warning glare.

[echo-s-land]

Could you please draw France family?

Sure! It'll take a while since there's a lot (and I'll have to design (is it the right verb? whatever) most of them—) but I'll do it :]

I have things to do today and tomorrow, so I'll start the days after that

[anotheroceanid]

Shit - Athenide AU with Perse ACTUALLY forming from the fountain as a baby would be so much messier. Not just because she wouldn't be able to advocate for herself, but because of Hera.

The goddess of Motherhood has never once had a child born as a baby that STAYED a baby. Hepheastus got chucked, sure, but he grew up fast once he 'landed'. Which parent chucked him also depends on the version. Hera is Zeus' 6th or maybe 7th wife, as well, and technically, of all of Zeus' kids not with her...only Athena isn't a bastard. She's Zeus' first true-born child, the first princess of Olympus.

For Athena, the stepdaughter she cannot even truly hate, the sworn virgin, to have an infant daughter (So small, so perfect and sweet, brilliant eyes like mother Rhea and downy dark curls; the infant the Fates declared as Perseleia, goddess of Loyalty) must burn.

If Zeus threw Hepheastus, her son, for being less than perfect, can you imagine the unholy trio of Athena, Demeter and Hera all fighting and clawing to have Perse on Olympus? Demeter wants to avoid Athena losing Perse as she did Persephone. Athena wants to keep her precious Owlet close. Hera, who tolerates Athena at time, is now THROWING herself into the role of stepmother, and like The Pit is she letting her new granddaughter be dragged to the sea!

Im not even joking about it: if Perse sprouted as a baby, Athena would’ve caught her in a second and dragged as far as possible not only from Poseidon but all Olympus 😭

Like, Demeter would have a full existencial crisis because like, Athena is the mother but Poseidon is the one who’s been stolen from his kid.

And ofc, Hera would not let it slide. Like the fuck you mean the eternal virgin got a baby and she didn’t??,

[alexa-yukiyu]

Hey! Hey! Hey! 😝 I'm back

Anyways can I request a whitebeard pirates x fem child reader? (Maybe 5 years old?)

Reader is half bunny and she's always shy and a bit of a coward and her ears are always down like this

She's always with whitebeard (on his lap, beside him, or on his shoulders)

The crew gives her nicknames like buns, baby bun, bun bun, Cottontail

Oh and the crew is a little protective over reader because she's the smallest crew member on board 🥺

Maybe like the crew is trying to connect with reader? They thought that Marco would be the first one to connect with her (besides pops ofc) because he's quiet and calm but ironically she connect with ace first

Anyways don't forget to eat, sleep, and drink! Thank you~ ✨

Birds of a bunny ( Whitebeard pirates x F!rabbit!child!reader)

A/N okay okay lets ignore than its been an eternity and get straight into saying that despite me ABSOLUTELY COOKING HERE I kinda butchered the request din’t I ? I kind alet myself go but I just really wanted to get to one of your request at the least cosmo

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for Reader in japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

Whitebeard hums, swishing around his drink and gulping a considerable amount

“They’re looking for you again,” he states, glancing at a small furry ball on his shoulders

She unfurls herself from her position, moving her drooping ears to uncover her face

“I know:..”

“They’re trying.”

“I know, I know that they are good people, but… they are so rowdy.”

He snickers at that, glancing away from her

“I think you should talk to them.”

She shakes her head at that

“Don’t be a brat. You have to talk to your brothers eventually, and if this is how it will be, then I Will have that be now, Boys.”

She looks at Whitebeard, her eyes widening as she shakes her head vigorously, not liking where this was headed

She squeaks as she jumps off his shoulder. As he reaches for her, hopping her way through the deck, attempting to get away from the crew as they all lunge to try to take hold of the bunny girl

She quickly made her way up to one of the lower crow nests, tucking herself small in the corner of it, ignoring the calls of the males down below

She is not alone for long as Ace, ever the nimble one, makes his way up into the crow’s nest, followed quickly by a half-transformed Marco who perches on the crow’s nest, their entrance being received by sobs from the kit

Ace sighs at the sight, swiftly picking her up

“No! Papaw! Papaw!” She cries, trying to get out of Ace’s hold to run back to the now retreating Captain as he heads for his quarters

“Hey, Hey, it’s okay,” he soothes

“Dokucha, It’s okay, take deep breaths for me.” Marco follows only to wince at his suggestion and was met by higher wails

“No! No! I want Papaw!”

He hums, dipping her

She shrieks as she suddenly finds herself upside down, giggling when he pulls her back up, her ears bouncing as she did

“Heard a laugh.”

She shakes her head, digging it into his shoulder

“No?” He questions, dipping her once again, grinning when her laughter followed on the way back up

“Well, I’m glad you are feeling better, Baby bun,” smiles Marco

Dokucha turned her attention towards the man, staring at him for a moment, her eyes glancing towards her limbs, his arms currently transformed into a pair of wings, his legs turned into two sharp, very sharp talons that gripped into the wood of the nest

“Bright aren-

He stops his words as she begins wailing again, turning her head away from him and trying to dig herself into Ace

“Hey, Hey, what’s wrong? It’s just Marco, I know he looks weird-

He receives an unimpressed glance from the phoenix at that

But he won’t hurt you.”

“No!!” She hollers

“He’s going to eat me,” she bellows

He stills at that, glancing down and back up to his brother; quickly understanding the situation, he stifles a snicker as he gestures toward Marco

“Baby bun, look at me.”

“No! I don’t taste good,” she wails

“Just look for a second.” her sobs continue as she dares to take a glance, her sobs lessening at the sight of a now fully human Marco standing in front of her

“See? Just a normal person, that was just my devil fruit,” he explains, reaching for her only to sigh as she scooched back

“Baby bun, come on, I swear I'm not going to hurt you,” Marco stated once they had returned back to the Deck of the ship; much to the surprise of the rest, she had decided to remain with Ace rather than anyone else despite all the warm and more peaceful greetings everyone offered.

“Marco, you’re terrible,” Haruta muttered

“I didn’t think you were the type to scare little girls,” Vista piped in

An irk mark began to grow on his forehead at the jabs his crewmates threw at him

“Shut up,” he grumbled

“Man, I had the wrong impression of you, Commander Marco,” Saber added in

“I always thought you were a good human, but I guess my first impression of you couldn’t be farther from the truth,” Kutatsu commented

“The next one to make a comment will see what kind of man I am,” he snapped, brows furrowed

“Gee, see that Cottontail? Now he wants to eat us. Don’t worry, I’ll protect you!” laughed Thatcher as he looked at the girl in Ace’s arms while pointing at Marco

She glances at the chef, her lips beginning to tremble once again

“Hah?! What’s wrong, Cotton tail?!”

“You’re going to eat me!”

“What?! What gave you that idea, Cottontail!?” He questions a devastated look on his face as she repeated the words he mocked Marco for no longer than a minute ago

Izou chuckles at the scene unfolding

“You have something to share, Izou?!” Thatch asked, glaring at the sniper, tears prickling in his eyes

“I believe she is referring to your… extravagant hairdo.”

“…”

“Cottontail! I'm not a bird, I swear! It’s hair! It’s hair,” he wailed, trying to hug the girl, only for tears to cascade down his face comically as she backed away from him, digging herself closer into Ace’s Embrace

Marco gives a pat on the man crying on his knees

“It’s alright, Thatch; I will protect her,” he mocks

“Shut up, you damn chicken” he wails

He grits his teeth at that, a sharp smile on his face

“You’re on cleaning duty for a month.”

“What the hell, man?! I'm a commander; you can’t do that,” he wails

Okay im going to do school assigment and im going to write another request hopefully!!

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

[i2rizz]

i love your “turning into kids” posts!! if you don’t mind, would you be open to writing a third part with karasu and barou? hope your day is going well 🖤

Awh thank you love :)

And ofc i can! Tho i saw someone asking if their memories are intact- yep they still have them but, they also now have that childish mentality yk?

Bllk Boys Turned Into Children Pt.3

Baby!Barou Shoei

You hear growling from your kitchen. Not animalistic—human. Menacing. You turn the corner to see a tiny figure glaring up at your fridge.

“I know you’re hiding the meat in there”

It’s Barou. Except… like two feet tall. His little arms are crossed, hair somehow still styled, and he’s standing on a chair he clearly dragged over himself.

You gasp. “What the—Barou!?”

“I don’t need help,” he snaps, puffing out his cheeks. “I just need steak”

When you pick him up, he protests violently. “Put me down! I am the KING! You cannot carry royalty like this!” But the moment his sock slips on the tile and he almost faceplants, he clings to your hoodie and mutters, “Don’t tell anyone…”

Later, he insists on brushing your hair because “kings know grooming” Then he wraps a blanket around himself and your cat and proclaims: “This is my kingdom now. You may enter. Bring snacks”

Also? He wears your pink slippers like they're armor. Declares your cat his "sidekick" Names it Deathlord.

Baby!Karasu Tabito

There’s glitter on the floor. And on your counters. And in the toaster?

Karasu sprints into the room wearing your sunglasses upside down and a towel as a cape.

“TOO LATE TO STOP ME, WOMAN—I’M A SUPERSTAR”

“…Karasu?”

He flashes finger guns. “You know it”

He proceeds to climb onto the table and reenact his greatest goals using orange slices and marshmallows. He narrates it all, commentating with the drama of a telenovela.

“Karasu... did you drink my iced coffee?”

“I NEEDED THE ENERGY. This is my prime”

You try to sit him down, but the moment he sees your TV remote, he yells, “THIS ACTIVATES THE LAUNCH SEQUENCE!” and starts mashing buttons.

Later, he crash-lands into your laundry basket and passes out mid-sentence: “I could’ve been president of—” snores

•Bonus-At one point he asks, "If I eat five marshmallows in under a minute, can I evolve into a dragon?"

You blink.

"Watch me" he whispers.

Spoiler: he throws up.

Baby!Otoya Eita

When you find him, he's standing in front of your mirror, shirt half-buttoned, striking poses.

“Oh?” he turns around. “So you’re the angel I fell for”

“Otoya,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’re literally five”

He winks. “Age is temporary. Charm is eternal”

You try to ignore him as he follows you around the house with a flower crown he made from weeds. He keeps placing it gently on your head like he’s proposing.

“I’d build you a pink palace if I was taller” he mumbles during snack time, looking up at you like you hung the stars.

When it’s nap time, he pulls your hoodie sleeve. “You’ll stay with me, right? Princes can’t sleep alone”

Cue you tearing up while he snores into your arm.

Baby!Oliver Aiku

He's weirdly chill. Like... suspiciously chill.

"Yo," he says, staring up at you from the floor with sleepy eyes and tousled hair. "You got juice?"

You're about to ask what's going on, but he's already made himself a blanket fort on the couch, watching Netflix with your dog curled up next to him.

“Yo,” he repeats lazily, blinking at you. “You always look this good?”

You pause. “Aiku?”

“Yeah?” he grins. “Want snacks?”

He’s weirdly calm for a kid. Until he discovers your phone camera and starts taking dramatic selfies while lounging under throw blankets like he’s on a yacht.

He keeps asking about your skincare routine, tells you your perfume is “luxury-tier” and lowkey flirts in the most child-safe, ridiculous way.

“You’re prettier than any princess in storybooks” he says, holding up a crayon drawing of you with an oversized crown.

Then he yawns and curls up on the sofa, hoodie over his head, and says, “You’re my favorite person. Don’t tell the others”

You melt on the spot.

[pinkslipxox]

Can u write something related to ur tender touches fic where reader and Billie make a bet that Billie can’t go one week without touching readers boobs in any way and it’s like the day before the last and Billie is just begging for readers boobs saying she lost the bet and doesn’t care.

ofc, ofc! Hope you like it, cariño 🥰🙈 (Tender Touches)

——————————————————————————

Six days.

That’s how long since it’s been since Billie’s touched your boobs. She’s been counting the days, hours, minutes. Yet, for her, this week has felt like an eternity.

It all started when you made a bet with her that she couldn’t touch your boobs in anyway for a whole week. At first, Billie was confident in her ability to restrain herself. That was, until, you would purposely go bra-less, wear the tightest, revealing clothing that would accentuate your cleavage that would leave Billie drooling, and walk around the house topless wearing nothing but Billie’s favorite panties— the lacy black pair with little bows she bought you from Tokyo— just to spite her. And today is no different.

As you’re perched comfortably on the couch, topless, wearing Billie’s favorite pair of panties, Billie is staring at you with the most possessive and longing look in her eyes. She bites her lip at the sight of your plump breasts, her mouth watering as she imagines sucking your rosy bud, gripping your soft flesh in her hands. As Billie continues to fantasize about all the things she could do to your breasts— correction, her breasts— she can’t help but ask why the fuck she agreed to do this in the first place. To describe the whole ordeal as torturous is hardly enough. To Billie, it’s cruelty.

She wants your boobs— and she wants them now.

“Y/N,” Billie strides her way over to you, not caring how desperate or pathetic sounds as she kneels before you. She’s inches away from your chest, your breasts staring right back at her, and Billie forces herself to look at you in the eyes. “Baby, please, I can’t fucking do this anymore.”

“Do what, my love?” you tease as you sit up straighter, purposefully pushing your breasts forward, and Billie whines like a small child.

“This!” Billie huffs in frustration as she gestures widely to herself and you. “You’re torturing me, Y/N! It’s not funny!”

“My poor baby,” you coo with feigned concern with an exaggerated pout of your lower lip. “You should have thought this through before you said yes, Bills.”

And Billie snaps.

Billie practically pounces on you, pinning you down on the couch, her strong hands forcing your arms so that they’re above your head, and Billie wastes no time in swallowing your breast in her mouth. Relief, mixed with the powerful need to fulfill her desires, consumes Billie as she greedily sucks on your flesh. Her name is moaned in between the soft gasps and whimpers that escape from your lips, the sound like music to her ears, and it only fuels Billie’s feral instincts.

“God, Billie,” you gasp, squirming underneath her, and Billie releases one of her hands from your wrist and gives your other breast a hearty squeeze, coaxing a loud moan from you.

Billie is too drunk off your breast to even think straight. She wraps her lips around your nipple, her teeth lightly grazing over your hardened bud, and she can’t help the smirk that spreads in her lips at the surprised yelp you let out. Billie takes her sweet time, savoring the taste of your breast, coating it with her saliva, marking her territory on the curve of your breast before she moves on to the other one. God, she could do this all day. There’s no way in hell she’s letting this happen again.

“Happy now, baby?” you purr, breathless yet satisfied, and Billie chuckles as she presses gentle kisses your chest, along your collarbone, up your neck, and finally your lips.

“Very,” she murmurs, her voice low and warm as she brushes her lips against yours. Then, with a smirk tugging at her lips, she hooks her fingers over your panties and slowly slides them down. “But there’s another thing I want to taste now.”

“Oh, my God…” you whimper as you throw your head back as Billie slowly kisses along your inner thigh, teasing you just as you teased her.

Let’s just say you never challenged Billie ever again.

[andy-15-07]

Are your requests open??

I would love to see you where the reader/OFC is a concubine of Paul Atreides. She doesn’t get much attention from him but when she goes in to labor there is a complication and she becomes scared. Paul as the Emperor shows up to help her through the labor and starts developing a positive relationship with her and his child postpartum.

Thank you!! Please keep writing things you have passion for!! ❤️

Bonds Beyond Blood

masterlist ! pairing: Paul Atreides x reader

Dune Masterlist

Y/n lay on the ornate bed, her hand clutching the bedsheets tightly as pain wracked through her body. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her breathing shallow and labored. The midwives moved around her with practiced efficiency, but their words seemed distant, muffled by the intensity of her fear.

Paul Atreides, the Emperor, stood by the doorway, his expression a mask of concern. He had never been one to show much interest in Y/n, his concubine, beyond the duties of his station. But now, as he watched her struggle, something stirred within him.

"Is she going to be alright?" Paul asked the head midwife, his voice betraying a hint of anxiety.

The midwife glanced at him briefly before returning her attention to Y/n. "We are doing everything we can, Your Majesty. But there are complications. The baby's position is not ideal, and Y/n is exhausted."

Paul nodded, his jaw clenched. He couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness that washed over him. This was one situation he couldn't control with his political power or military might.

Y/n's cries filled the room, echoing off the walls of the chamber. Paul felt a pang of guilt deep within him. He had neglected her, taken her presence for granted. But now, seeing her in such agony, he couldn't ignore the bond they shared, however distant it had been.

Without a word, Paul crossed the room and took Y/n's hand in his own. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear and pain.

"Paul..." she gasped, her voice barely a whisper.

"I'm here, Y/n," Paul said softly, his tone soothing. "I won't leave your side."

Y/n squeezed his hand tightly, drawing strength from his presence. Despite their past indifference, she found solace in his touch, in the warmth of his hand against hers.

Minutes stretched into hours as Y/n endured the agonizing pain of labor. Paul remained by her side, offering words of encouragement and support. With each contraction, he whispered words of reassurance, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of her fear.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the sound of a baby's cry filled the room. Tears of relief streamed down Y/n's cheeks as she held her newborn child in her arms.

Paul watched, his heart swelling with emotion, as Y/n cradled their child against her chest. In that moment, he felt a connection unlike any he had ever known before. It wasn't just the bond of blood that tied him to this child, but something deeper, something more profound.

"I never knew..." Paul began, his voice faltering as he struggled to find the right words.

Y/n looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears. "Neither did I," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the soft cries of their child.

In the days that followed, Paul remained by Y/n's side, helping her adjust to motherhood and caring for their newborn child. With each passing day, their bond grew stronger, forged in the fires of adversity and nurtured by the love they shared for their child.

As they sat together in the quiet moments of the night, watching over their sleeping infant, Paul found himself opening up to Y/n in a way he never thought possible. He shared his fears, his hopes, his dreams for the future, laying bare his soul before her.

And in turn, Y/n shared her own hopes and dreams, her fears and insecurities, trusting Paul with her most intimate thoughts and feelings.

In the weeks and months that followed, Paul and Y/n's relationship blossomed into something beautiful and profound. They may have started as mere strangers, bound together by duty and circumstance, but now they were so much more than that.

They were partners, allies, confidants. And as they watched their child grow and thrive, they knew that no matter what the future held, they would face it together, united in love and devotion.

For in the end, it wasn't power or prestige that defined them, but the simple yet profound bond of family. And in that bond, they found the true meaning of happiness and fulfillment.

[nottsim]

— ᴡʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ʙᴀɢ 𝒽𝑜𝑔𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓈 𝒹𝓇 ᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ

⊹ ࣪ ˖ my dr consists of a mix of old and new. it’s got parchment for the vibes and a phone for when the vibes are too slow.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

୨୧ bag alert: strictly post class essentials ୨୧

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐦𝐲 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐞 - 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐠

before we start let’s not forget to give credit where credit is due: to my partner in crime and my lover (don’t tell Theo). my shoulder bag aka..me in bag form — scratched, worn and somehow holding way more than it should. it’s a love child made with leather and chanel and ofc much love from its doting mother.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 - 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐝

my sturdy willow wand is the overachieving intern who’s carrying the whole operation..literally. it’s the ultimate multitool. works as a weapon, light source, impromptu back scratcher and occasional toothpick..just kidding kids.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨’𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 - 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐬

magically enchanted to stay flawless even after inhaling a concerning amount of pumpkin pasties. priorities, right? making out with Theo? never heard of it. anyway...nude is my everyday go to, gucci to line and chanel to make for very expensive kisses.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 - 𝐜𝐢𝐠𝐬 & 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫

ciggy wiggies and a lighter — strictly for aesthetic purposes, like dramatically flicking the lighter open while contemplating the meaning of life..aka Theo’s. he stashed them in my bag and i left them there because i value my sanity more than i value lecturing him on lung health. pick your battles ladies. the lighter is engraved with “𝒯.𝒩“ because subtlety is for peasants and gold is prettier. it was a gift for Theo but he insisted on stashing it in my bag, convinced it’d be safer there than in his pocket. too fancy for his usual chaos but somehow its always within his reach. his fingers are always on it, flicking it open and closed. moan.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 - 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫

mirror, mirror..expensive? yes. worth it? also yes. tiny but mighty, just like me and makes you feel like you have your life together..sigh #this mirror gets me

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐠��𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐜𝐤 - 𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐦 + 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐢𝐝

a polaroid of Theo? essential, because yes i’m that person who stares at it after five minutes apart (guilty). a reminder that i’m dating peak perfection while barely holding it together…just kidding, i’m the hot one in this relationship. my pink digicam? it’s my way of making sure i don’t forget a single second basically. from the snowflakes on my ravenclaw scarf to that one time Pansy accidentally poured her entire drink over Blaise. my digicam’s practically my personal time machine, making sure i never forget how perfect it all is. it’s the sound of footsteps echoing in the corridors, the flicker of candlelight in the common room, the faint scent of parchment and ink…but then, Theo’s laughing with Mattheo and just like that I’m reminded. yeah, this is real :’)

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 - 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐬

for when i’m trying to focus in the library but instead, quill in hand, i’m scribbling random thoughts on my parchment (definitely not taking notes). the wooden chairs creak in that oddly comforting way and the soft whispers of students pretending to study fill the air. but instead of getting anything done i’m blasting my playlist..productivity? who is she?

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 - 𝐠𝐮𝐦

for when Theo’s around and i need to make sure i don’t smell like a snack before i become one. the fear of bad breath is a lifelong battle that follows me into this reality too like an eternal nemesis. i scripted fresh breath but don’t mind me..chewing on my minty armor like i’m preparing for battle. #toungefight..what?

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐦𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 - “𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞”

the magical artifact of modern sorcery: my phone. it’s the muggle relic of my bag, my emergency lifeline per se. texting? sure. calling? if absolutely necessary. it’s a modern day crystal ball, except it only predicts when i’m about to run out of battery..right. social media? it exists, just somehow tucked away from muggles. don’t ask me how it works, i just curated my instagram.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

that’s it. nothing too wild…unless you count the 20 receipts, a handful of bobby pins and enough hair ties to start a collection. but yk? aesthetic.

from the bottom of my bag, 𝐣𝐚𝐬 “𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐢” ୨୧

[prythianpages]

Take Her To The Moon | Cassian

cassian x love witch reader | summary: Curious over what it'd be like to watch Velaris from above like the stars do every night, you ask Cassian to take you flying.

warnings: fluff

word count: a little under 2K

a/n: I already had a flying fic planned for this au and when I saw that Day 1 of @cassianappreciationweek was flying, I thought why not join? This is my first time participating in a character week! and ofc it's last minute, I promise I'll be more prepared next time.

A canvas of shimmering stars were stretched infinitely above you. Cassian sat beside you, on the rooftop of your shop, his membranous wings folded neatly behind him. Your legs dangled over the edge, the pale moonlight reflecting off your shiny, pink boots. Your eyes were bright as they traced the constellations.

Our child. Our beloved.

Cassian’s head turned to glance at you. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“The voices.” Cassian replied, a faint furrow appearing on his forehead. Was he going mad? He was sure he had heard them–a distant echo of ancient voices. Yet, you continued to sit beside him, completely unfazed.

So beautiful.

“Oh!” Your eyebrows lifted in realization. Your fingers reached up to brush the earrings you wore, delicate pieces made from the dust shooting stars emitted. “It’s my earrings. They were made from the stars and sometimes speak to me.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What do they say?"

“They whisper compliments, mostly. Such as the way I'm as radiant as the cosmos, as beautiful as the night sky…”

Yes. Yes.

You tilted your head in amusement, your eyes reflecting the stars above as if they took residence there. A beauty from the cosmos, indeed. Cassian let out a small chuckle, his ears now being able to distinguish those ancient whispers. You grinned at him, leaning back on the palm of your hands, your hair falling gracefully off your shoulders. 

“They also whisper other things.” You added. “The stars, they see things we don’t. They’re always there, patient and watching. They know our secrets, our deepest desires. They hear our pleas, you know.”

Cassian’s head tilted upwards, lifting his gaze from you and toward the night sky. The moon was full and beautiful. The stars, eternal and steadfast, winking at him, sharp and bright. A sweet fondness had the corner of his lips tugging up. 

“I know.”

A blissful silence enveloped the two of you, both lost in deep thought. Memories of that lonely night swirled in Cassian’s mind—the night he had stood under these very stars, heart full of longing and soul overcome with loneliness. He yearned for someone to gaze up at the stars with, and pleaded with them to send him someone.

A soft sigh escaped you and his wings fluttered in response, grounding him back to the present moment. Perhaps, his pleas had been answered. Because he was gazing up at the stars this very moment with you by his side.

You. Such a bright and beautiful soul. Like a fallen star reborn through the magic of love, and though he hasn’t known you for long, your presence was already illuminating his life in a way he had never imagined.

Take her to the moon.

Cassian's heart skipped a beat, head turning back to you. But you were still fixated on the sky, eyes full of longing, as if you hadn’t heard the whispers of the stars. He wondered what had you so deep in thought and the question was tumbling from his lips.

You blinked, the constellations gracing your cheeks enough for him to see the blush that had settled there. His eyes narrowed briefly. In the the time he’s known you, you have never shown an ounce of shyness.

“The stars are lovely tonight.” You said, dancing around the question. Sensing his gaze on you, you met his eyes, and something lit up in those sparkling eyes of yours. “Want to make a bet?”

“A bet?”

You nodded your head, a bit too eagerly, making him suspicious. Surely, you were plotting something. He could only hope it did not involve any of those pesky little lovebugs you’ve been talking about, another blind date or any more of your love altars. 

One day when he had visited your shop, you had suggested for him to light one of the candles to the altar that spoke to him the most and ask for its blessing. He had meant to light one at the altar dedicated to romantic love but Honey, your cat, had brushed against his leg and startled him. He accidentally lit one of the candles from the altar of erotic love.

It would’ve been fine, really. An honest mistake that could’ve gone unnoticed...if it hadn’t been for the old fae woman who had chosen to light a candle at that altar not even a heartbeat before him.

“By The Cauldron, I’ve been blessed!” The woman, who could have easily been his great grandmother, had exclaimed as she threw her arms around him. You had to save him, sweetly coaxing the woman and sending her off with a sleeping potion that’d make her dream of her late husband.

You always meant well with your plans, carefully and thoughtfully scheming to bring Cassian closer to what he desired most—true love. But it seemed fate had a different plan, weaving its own tricks into your efforts. Despite your best intentions, your schemes often ended in failure, leading him back to you.

“If I can accurately guess how many stars are shining in the sky tonight, you have to take me flying.”

A small breath of relief escaped from Cassian. Flying was his territory, his expertise. But the stars…He eyed your earrings, gaze narrowing in on them. “That sounds like a bet you won’t lose.”

He caught the way your gaze lingered on his wings, a hint of longing still shimmering within your eyes. Realization dawned on him then. Is that why you had been sneaking glances at his wings earlier?

“Sweetheart,” he chuckled. “If you want me to take you flying, you could just ask, you know.”

“I can't just ask that! I'm shy!"

“You? Shy?” Cassian laughed again, finding the small glare you sent his way amusing. He shook his head in disbelief. There was a moment of silence and then: “So…are you going to ask me or not?”

You took a deep breath, and Cassian took pleasure in the sheepish look on your face, his wings twitching in anticipation. He watched as your mouth parted before shutting again and raised an eyebrow at you.

Then, finally, you said. “Will you take me flying?... Please."

Cassian stared at you, as if considering your words, even though he had already decided on his answer before you could ask the question. You’ve already done so much for him. He would do anything in return for you. He just wanted to tease you further for a bit but the longer he stared at you, the more he began to lose his resolve.

And when you batted your eyelashes at him, inadvertently striking him with your effortless charm, he was a goner. It was now him feeling bashful. Did you have to be so beautiful?

He barely managed to choke out a “yes” before standing. He could’ve sworn he heard raspy sounds coming from your earrings—like a snicker, almost.

˗ˏˋ ★ ★ ˏˋ˗ 

Cassian’s wings spread out magnificently behind him. He felt the blood rush to his neck at the way you regarded them in awe, stepping forward to admire them more closely. “Beautiful,” you murmured, the stars at your ears whispering in agreement and his wings shuddered at the compliment. “They’re so big. I’m envious.”

“Envious?” Cassian echoed. His chest swelled with pride. You had called them big.

You stepped back, leaving Cassian unsure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. He had anticipated the usual temptation many non-Illyrians succumb to—reaching out to touch his wings. But you hadn’t. 

“I always wondered what it’d be like to fly among the clouds and stars, to feel the wind rushing past and see the world from above. That's what I was thinking about earlier...and you can do it so easily with those.”

“It is nice,” Cassian commented thoughtfully. 

His wings, though scarred from countless battles and injuries, were one of the things he cherished the most. Each scar told a story of resilience, and he took immense pride in them and in their ability to let him soar through the skies.

And he loved flying. The joy, the exhilarating thrill that coursed through his veins. Flying connected him to his Illyrian heritage but also brought a profound sense of liberation. A way to escape and transcend the limits imposed by the ground and a way to be closer to the stars.

Take her to the moon. He heard those very stars whisper again.

He looked at you, the soft fabric of your ruffled blush top swaying gently in the night breeze. You were patient, hands clasped behind your back.

So with a smile, he said, “Well, what are we waiting for?”

Your eyes sparkled with excitement, and when he gestured for you to come closer, you approached without a word. His hazel eyes, tender and soft, lingered on you, silently asking for your permission. With a nod from you, he bent down slightly. One arm went beneath your knees the other behind your back and then he scooped you into his strong arms.

As you wrapped your arms around his neck, he felt the rapid, eager beat of your heart—a rhythm that matched his own. But his also carried an undercurrent of something deeper, more intense, spurred on by the feeling of you in his arms.

Standing at the edge of the rooftop, he glanced down at you, searching your face for any hint of hesitation or fear. “Ready?” 

“Yes.” You replied and he found nothing but your enthusiasm reflected back at him.

His smile widened and he made a show of his wings. They unfurled further behind him in a graceful manner, a sound reminiscent of a sail watching the wind, resonating in the air. 

“Hold on tight, sweetheart.”

Your arms tightened around him and then you two were taking off, the ground disappearing beneath you.

˗ˏˋ ★ ★ ˏˋ˗ 

Your eyes were wide with wonder, the cool night air ruffling your hair as you gazed out at the world below. Moonlight wove silver patterns across the rooftops, and the Sidra River shimmered up at you. As the clouds drifted by, you reached out with a hand, pink magic fluttering from your fingertips. A gasp of delight escaped you as you felt the misty tendrils of the clouds brushing against your skin.

From this height, every scent was vivid—the fresh, earthy aroma of the forest below mingled with the sandalwood warmth enveloping you. It was all a sensory overload that left you breathless, but in the best way possible.

“This is incredible!”

Cassian chuckled but he couldn’t agree more. He was happy to share this joy with you, the powerful rhythm of his wings beating steadily as you soared through the night sky. The world stretched out in every direction, a vast expanse of shadow and light.

It felt as if you were the only two people in existence, suspended between the earth and the stars…and the stars…

The stars seemed so close that you could almost touch them, and your laughter rang out, pure and joyous. Cassian watched you, mesmerized by the radiant joy on your face, pink stardust fluttering around you both. As he flew higher, the moonlight bathed you in a soft glow that made you look as celestial as the stars themselves...

What if you had been that shimmering star he wished upon?

A strange and startling shift occurred within him, causing his wings to falter for a brief moment. You were too absorbed in your wonder to notice, but Cassian’s arms tightened around you, pulling you closer. 

He savored the sensation of having you so close, wishing this moment could stretch on forever as the stars did. 

a/n: The star earrings were inspired from Aquamarine's starfish earrings! I'm saving the fic of where Love witch meets the IC as part of my 2K celebration so the next part might be kind of an angsty one, depending on which comes first. If you asked to be on the tag list and don't see your name, please let me know!

series masterlist

series taglist: @mrsjna , @shadowsingercassia, @acourtofbatboydreams, @rcarbo1, @mvidaaaa ,

@stuff-i-found-while-crying , @lipstickmarks, @yamisukehoe , @mp-littlebit , @thecraziestcrayon, @talesofadragon, @ceoofyearning, @anuttellaa

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human, @mrsjna

[unproduciblesmackdown]

shake your hand in character ft. flashback joe iconis, cyril von miserthorpe, krampus, the fancy tree, mister macabee, quince, little evalina, debra neezer jolie, flashback joe jr., flashback mama, poinsettia, hot candy, clouds, santa, aunt lorette, rufus?

[valeron99]

After all, they decided to spent their first Yule in New Asgard. Loki felt safe and comfortable, so he chose his frost giant form.

They spent all the time at fairs and festivals, tried every flavor of ale and different traditional sweets.

Shared their knowledge about Mistletoe.

(And kissed a lot, ofc)

Loki supported Mobius at the skating rink, cause it was his first time. In Loki's opinion, he did a great job.

And Mobius was able to find Loki the perfect gift: a toy made in the likeness of old toys, exactly like the one Frigga gave him when he was a child.

They spent all their time together as well as all future eternity.

They deserved it.

[ihaveforgortoomany]

Reverse 1999 and child soldiers (just rambling) (global friendly)

It doesn't take long for anyone to realise most of the cast (excluding awakened, entities like Voyager and AlienT, and people like Eternity) are young: ranging from most being 17-16 with adults around their 20s and Shamane currently being the oldest (excluding the above) at around 40. (Edit hes 45 thanks for clarifying)

Alright you say, this is a gacha game ofc the characters would be around these ranges and we hope every patch to get character that is above 40 (wdym someone like Tooth Fairy isn't 30? Same for Kakania and Isolde, how are they 19 and 18 respectively?For example). Hey I would like more older characters too, but I think the ages are partially intentional if we look into lore on a thematic level.

Ok. We already know the Foundation, Laplace and now Zeno (though it was ofc from Lilya) they produce child soldiers, workers and scientists:

Vertin is the Timekeeper at 12

Sonetto probably became a field investigator around 14-16 at best (correct me if we have a better frame of reference)

Ms Moission in her character profile apparently was a field investigator at 14. (I spelt her name wrong I think)

Mesmer Jr started working at the age of 12

As of the release of the Zeno anecdote we know Lilya around 14 was already in field missions and has seen the state of war.

(Probably could include X, Horrorpedia here but I don't have much info)

What am I getting at? Characters being young in their fields of work is completely intentional, one due to the Storm in the case of the Foundation as the first had taken nearly the entire workforce (plus Child Labour Laws) so in desperation to maintain numbers and order the age to become investigators, soldiers and scientists became much lower. I don't know if the SPDM existed before the Storm but the way it functions primarily serves to replenish those lost workforce.

And two: the perception of arcanists and the importance placed on the manifestation of their arcane skill as young as possible.

We see this in the case of Mesmer and Isolde/Trista.

Mesmer Jr once she was tested to see if she had her arcane skill immediately was set to manage mentally unstable patients at the age of 12. (She alongside Vertin probably needs the most therapy)

For Trista this was the seance her mother brought to at the age of 3, dying as a result and leading to her mother with Isolde to delay by 3 years. (Acting as if that was a mercy which it really is not)

There is an emphasis on an arcane families and arcanists maintaining their societal status/ relevance through children developing their arcane skills as soon as possible plus the idea of childhood and working is flipped on its head with the presence of arcanum.

Ok idk if worded that bit correctly but in short: our idea of when a child should be working (which is never) or the time someone should be in teaching before they get into a profession (TF, Kakania and Madam Z) is warped and absent in R1999. For Kakania, shes 19 but I would argue this is because of how she had dropped out and decided to be an unlicensed doctor. Most characters being younger is the result of arcanum being present in the world.

Moreover there is a general theme of lost childhoods/ forced to grow up fast in the younger cast. Exclude characters like Ezra, Matilda (so far) and Spathodea since they are relatively fine/ not deeply traumatised. Everyone else, Vertin, Sonetto, Mesmer Jr and characters like Eagle, Monlicht, Oliver Fog were forced to grow up fast despite their young age.

Summary: characters being in younger age ranges either being literal child soldiers or certain adults being relatively young is the result of the devastation of the Storm alongside the different perception of age in the arcanum world, there the manifestation of your arcane skill seems to be used as a sign of maturity and readiness to be thrown into work (Mesmer and Isolde being put om their respective career paths at a very early age) (or your Constantine celebrating the erasure of Child Labour Laws)

[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…

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@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…

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