#cobb schedule

[carry-on-big-bang]

Hey all!!! Its almost 2025!!!!!!

Just wanted to let you know that COBB signed up will open on the 1st of January!

Just a reminder of the FAQ and rules if you are unfamiliar with this event before signing up!

Schedule of dates will be posted in a few days!

Looking forward to seeing you all sign up!

[gilverrwrites]

Hello, dear! Could you please write something about 2022 Oz with a reader who is insecure about her torso and often chooses to keep her shirt on when they are being intimate? She is particularly shy about her breasts (I don't know if you need this information, but they are kinda large and she doesn't like the shape of them). Doesn't have to be smut, just fluffy comfort! Thank you so much and no pressure at all! ♥️

The Gift

2022!Penguin/Fem!Reader ≈800 words

AN: Thank you for the request, I hope you enjoy the fic, and have a wonderful rest of your day. ♥️

Oz comforts you have you confide him that you don't like the most recent gift he bought you. Rated: M

CWs: Body dysmorphia, petnames: doll, implied sexual relationship.

Please remember: You are beautiful, as you are.

The fabric is unbelievably soft between your fingers. A deep regal purple with fine black embroidery, a cute heart-shaped gem set in gold dangles from the cleavage of the bra. It was such a beautiful set, and Oz had looked so chuffed when you’d opened it. So excited to see you in his gift. 

But as you sat at your vanity, preparing for your celebratory night, you just couldn’t bring yourself to put it on. Couldn’t bear the idea of how you would look in it, so exposed. Underwear this delicate wasn’t meant for bodies like yours, at least in your opinion. 

The worst part was knowing Ozzie was waiting for you, eager for a glimpse, and he’d be disappointed either by your refusal to wear it or by the unsightly image he’d have to look at if you did. 

So wrapped in your thoughts, you don’t notice Ozwald entering or the sound of his uneven footsteps, not until you catch the sight of him in the mirror’s reflection. 

“What’s wrong doll?” He asked, concern furrowing his brow. His eyes scan your face before falling to the lingerie clutched in your hands. “You don’t like my gift?” 

“No, I do, they’re beautiful.” You reassure him, you’d always admired his taste. But… “I just don’t think I can wear it.”

“Why not?” He squints his eyes and tilts his head, puzzled, but laughing, trying to lighten the tense mood. “Did I get the wrong size or somethin’?” 

“Not it’s not that either.” You look down, unable to face him, unsure how to approach the conversation from here. The sight of the underwear isn’t helping, so gently place it back in the gift bag. 

“Then what is it?” He leans down, baring his weight on your shoulder for support as he places a kiss to the back of your head. Trying to comfort you as best he can without knowing what is wrong. “Don’t keep me in the dark here, you got me worryin’.” 

“I just…” You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for your confession. It’s hard; to admit your insecurities aloud, especially knowing you’re likely to disappoint Oz in the process. But the alternative feels impossible. “It’ll show too much, I know I won’t feel good in it.” 

“Is that it? That’s why you never wanna take your clothes off when we’re doin' it?” He shakes his head, dismissively, more to himself than you. With a sigh he turns from you, making his way over to the bed. Seated, with the pressure off his bad leg, he looks relieved, until he looks at you. His face turns sombre. He purses his lips, mulling over what he’ll say next. “Look, I ain’t exactly one to judge, you know?” 

He gestures to his scarred lip before patting his plump belly. You hate the implication, that he might be lesser because of his weight, or his scars. Hypocritical, as is human nature. You open your mouth to object, but he stops you, holding his hand up briefly as he begins to talk. 

“I ain’t done. This ain’t about me.” He has a knack for commandeering a conversation without making you feel small or unheard. “If it isn’t obvious, I think you’re beautiful, all of you, flaws an everythin’.” 

He gestures towards you, finally offering you a smile. Your body grows warm, you can’t help but smile, after all this time he still makes you feel coy under his gaze. His words won't heal everything, but they make you feel at ease in the moment. 

“Come sit with me.” He pats his good leg, and you make your way over, wrapping your arms around his neck as you settle on his thigh. A strong hand settles in the curve of your back, keeping you up straight. 

“I didn’t pick those out 'cause I thought they’d make you look good; I think you look good all the time.” Up close you can feel the warmth of his brandy steeped breath on your neck, he presses a kiss to your skin before placing his free hand under your chin, directing you to look at him as he continues. “Drives me crazy, tryin’ to get work done and you’re just there, lookin’ like sex on legs no matter what you’re wearin’.” 

“But if it means that much to ya, we can take ‘em back, you can pick out somethin’ that makes you feel your best.” He leans in, pressing a greedy kiss to your lips. You sigh into him, embracing the familiar feel and taste of him as he slips his hand up to your cheek, using it to guide your face closer. When you eventually pull away, he runs the back of a thick, ringed finger against your skin and asks; “How does that sound?” 

Request Info || Masterlist || Ko-Fi 

[staranon95]

Schedule

The DinCobb Mini Big Bang will run from August 13 to November 17.

Writer/Artist Sign Ups Open: 8/13

Writers/Artists Sign Ups Close: 8/20

First Check In: 9/1

Informal. Non-mandatory. Authors should have a good idea as to what the fic should be about and have some sort of start on it.

Second Check In: 9/15

Mandatory. Authors should have a solid idea of what the fic is about. Ideally the fic is 50% complete. If authors do not check-in within 48 hours, it will be assumed they have dropped.

Drop Out Date: 9/30

Participants are free to drop without question at any time before this date. It is heavily encouraged to reach out to a mod after this date so that a pitch hitter can be found. Extensions can also be made after this date.

Artist Claims: 10/1

Mandatory. The claim form will pair artists with authors by letting artists read the summaries of the fics currently being worked on. If artists do not respond within 48 hours, it will be assumed they have dropped.

First Group Check In: 10/15

Mandatory. Everyone should be in contact with their partners.

Second Group Check in: 11/1

Mandatory. Artists should have started working on their contributions. Authors should be about 75% done with their fic. If someone needs a beta, ask a mod before this date to be paired with someone.

Final Drafts/Art Due: 11/15

Typically, both artists and authors should be finished their contribution. If an extension is needed, please reach out to a mod.

Posting Starts: 11/17

By now the collection will be opened and participants can add their work to it.

[willowsnook]

Devils Bachelor

Heyyy can I get roast beef and thousand island on sourdough? from @wusyanamegirlfriend

luke hughes x childhoodbsf!reader

I wanted it to be you

It was a warm late-spring day as you walked back from the grocery store, a quick stop after work to pick up ingredients for your usual Tuesday night with Luke. Tonight’s menu was a salmon Cobb salad you’d perfected last week. These evenings were the highlight of your week, and the fact that Luke always made time for you, despite his busy schedule, meant more than you could say.

You’d been best friends since childhood, but you assumed that life — especially his NHL career — might eventually pull you in different directions. Yet a year after he was drafted, he’d practically begged you to find work in New Jersey. You’d landed a position in a biology lab, and the rest was history.

Letting yourself in, you found Luke and his brother, Jack, locked in a chaotic video game match. Luke glanced over and flashed you his usual sweet smile.

“Staying for dinner, Jack?” you asked, unloading the groceries.

“If you’ll have me. Don’t want to intrude on date night,” he teased, laughing as Luke shoved him back onto the couch.

If only, you thought wistfully.

Dinner was filled with laughter and chatter about work, the boys listening intently as you shared your day.

“Has Luke told you about his new media obligation?” Jack asked, smirking.

“No, what is it?”

“They want me to be the ‘Devils Bachelor,’” Luke explained casually, rolling his eyes. “Basically, they’ll set me up with influencers and other women until I find ‘the one.’”

You froze, unable to keep the irritation from your voice. “Is that so?”

Jack snickered, but Luke, oblivious as always, simply nodded. “Yeah, actually. Do you think you could help me pick something to wear?” At this, Jack burst out laughing, and Luke shot him a confused look, “What?”

“Nothing, man,” Jack said, slapping him on the back and shooting you a wink.

Jack left after dinner, and you sat on the couch, half paying attention to the movie Luke had put on, swirling your wine in the glass mindlessly. 

“You okay?” Luke asked, watching you closely.

Forcing a smile, you nodded. “Just tired. I think I’ll head home.”

He frowned; you never left early on Tuesdays. Walking you to the door, he pulled you into a hug, his arms warm and familiar.

“See you later, yeah? I’ll have to tell you how the dates go.” Your heart ached, but you pushed it aside, knowing he truly was clueless.

“Great,” you mumbled, stepping away. You wished you could be brave enough to tell him how you felt — but vulnerability was hard.

-------------------------------

You tried to busy yourself the next day to avoid thinking about Luke going out with other girls, but it was hard. It had never really occurred to you that he goes on dates, as he hadn’t since he had lived here. The two of you were so domestic together that it literally felt like he was cheating on you even though he really wasn’t. 

Lost in thought, you nearly bumped into Jack, who was waiting outside of your building.

“Jack! What are you doing here?”

“Thought you could use a drink,” he said, giving you a warm grin. You appreciated his care and agreed, following him to a quiet bar nearby.

Settling into a booth, you sipped your drink as Jack spoke. “I told him not to tell you about the dates,” he said, looking you in the eye.

You groaned. “He’s going to think something’s up!”

“Y/N, he already thinks something’s up,” Jack deadpanned, explaining that Luke was worried you were mad at him. “I told him it was ‘complicated,’” Jack added with a smirk.

“Jack…” you groaned, putting your head in your hands.

“Speak of the devil, he just texted me about the date.”

Your head snapped up, “what did he say?” 

“He said it went alright, but he was annoyed that the girl didn’t want to order two entrees and share both,” he read off, and you laughed. Luke always insisted that you do that when the two of you ate somewhere, but you didn’t mind. 

Jack smirked at you before typing something quickly. 

“What’d you say?”

“I said, ‘you mean like y/n does?’”

“Jack!” You hissed. Jack put his phone down and looked at you. 

“Why are we doing this y/n?” Why won’t you just tell him? He’s in love with you even if he doesn’t realize it,” Jack said softly and you sighed, looking away. 

“That’s the thing, even if it’s true and he doesn’t realize it, what would happen if I confessed?” 

“Maybe it would be the push he needs,” Jack countered and you smiled sadly. 

“I can’t risk our friendship on a maybe.” 

Luke’s POV

“What’s with you today?” Jack asked, watching Luke take a break from his set. They were at the training facility to get a workout in, but Luke had been off all morning.

“Y/N’s been avoiding me since last week,” he muttered. “She just won’t talk to me.”

Jack gave him an amused look, thinking about how literally anyone could put two and two together. Maybe he just needed a little push. 

“How are the dates going?” he asked, changing the subject.

Luke shrugged. “A waste of time, honestly. None of them are really meshing.” To Jack's clear amusement, he went on about one who didn’t like sports and another who had never heard of Happy Gilmore.

“So let me get this straight,” Jack said, barely holding back a laugh. “The reasons none of them worked were… they wouldn’t split food with you, didn’t like sports, or hadn’t seen Happy Gilmore? Unlike Y/N, who does all that?”

Luke’s brows knit together. “Huh… that is kinda weird.”

Jack threw his hands up. “I love you, man, but sometimes you are so clueless.”

-------------------------------------

After you had destroyed the Taco Bell you had ordered, you were just about to settle in and keep watching Drive to Survive when you heard banging on your door. You debated not answering, as it was 9pm and you were wearing sweats and just a sports bra, but this person persisted, so you got up. 

You sighed and opened it, expecting a neighbor. Instead, Luke stood there in a suit, looking a little disheveled.

“Can I come in?” he asked, and you stepped aside, letting him through.

He paced in your living room, running a hand through his curls. “You know where I’m supposed to be right now?” he asked, and you shook your head.

“I was supposed to be at that Italian place by the water. The big finale date for the whole ‘Bachelor’ thing.” He stopped, his gaze intense.

“Why aren’t you there?” you asked softly.

“I got there… and saw her waiting… and all I could think was how badly I wanted it to be you. I wanted to have dinner with you by the water, order shrimp scampi and lasagna, split both dishes. I wanted you there, telling me about some crazy future you put on the college football championship. I wanted you because you’re the one who gets me. I just… I just wanted it to be you.”

Luke’s breathing was heavy as he finished, and you stood there, speechless.

For a moment, you just stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. All the little moments between you two flashed through your mind—every Tuesday night dinner, every laugh, every secret look you’d tried to brush aside. You’d waited so long to hear these words, but now that they were out in the open, you felt almost paralyzed by the intensity of it.

Luke took a step closer, his eyes searching yours. “I know I’m slow, okay? I know I’ve probably missed a thousand signs and chances. But standing there tonight… all I wanted was you.”

The vulnerability in his gaze melted any hesitation you still had. Gathering your courage, you took a breath and whispered, “It’s always been you, Luke. I just… I didn’t want to risk losing you if you didn’t feel the same.”

He reached out, brushing a stray hair behind your ear, his hand lingering at your cheek. “I’d never let that happen. You’re my best friend. But more than that…” He trailed off, his thumb grazing your cheek. “You’re everything.”

With his face inches from yours, you could barely breathe, but your heart answered for you. You leaned up and closed the gap, feeling his lips meet yours in a soft, unhurried kiss that spoke of all the moments you’d both been too afraid to admit. It was warm, familiar, and electric all at once, as though something that had been waiting years to begin had finally, perfectly, fallen into place.

When you pulled back, he kept his forehead resting against yours, eyes closed as he took a steadying breath. A small, slightly nervous smile crept onto his face. “Guess we’re going to have to relabel Tuesday as the official date night, huh?”

[something-tofightfor]

Locked Down Part 22: The Decision

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Female Reader

Word Count: 10,921

Rating: There's nothing graphic, but we'll go with M because I mention a couple things briefly.

Summary: Being home for the holidays for the first time since the pandemic began is a definite change for you. While Dieter can't be there for Thanksgiving, the promise of his Christmas arrival means that it's time to begin publicly appearing together. It's definitely something that you want, but that doesn't mean it's easy.

Along with navigating an official relationship with Dieter, there's also plenty of other life - and career - choices to consider.  

Author’s note:

Two full years later, here's another chapter. Is anyone still interested? Was anyone waiting to find out what happens next for these two? I hope so. This chapter has been halfway done for about a year, I just got super sidetracked... but not anymore.

I've missed writing for Dieter, so it was nice to get back to this story.

Catch up on the other parts here: Locked Down Masterlist

Settling into life in Georgia after getting back from Vancouver was more difficult than you thought it would be. Your flight was smooth, and your apartment was just as you’d left it, but from the moment you landed, you felt like you were on the go. 

You scheduled your meeting with Carmen for the Monday after the holiday, which meant that you had plenty of time to prepare yourself for it. In the email confirmation, she included a single extra line of text - It seems like we have a lot more than the job offer to talk about  - but didn’t elaborate, and even reading through it, you couldn’t stop smiling. 

Whatever happened in the future with Dieter, she was partially responsible for it - and you knew that she wouldn’t ever let you forget it. 

When your third COVID test came back negative the Tuesday after you got home, you sent a quick text to Dieter that morning letting him know that you’d be unavailable for part of the day. That done, you headed for your parents’ new place, grocery list in hand. 

Your mother added to it, and without talking about anything in detail, you headed for the store, determined to get in and out as fast as possible so that you could start baking. There won’t be too many people this year, but we still need a ton of food. 

You navigated the aisles with relative ease, thankful for the fact that the mask you wore hid your annoyed expression. But you froze when you got to the checkout line, your eyes locked on one of the tabloids displayed on the endcap. 

Dieter Bravo’s Dating Dilemma was the headline. 

Beneath it was a picture taken in Vancouver - and after you’d left, if his haircut was any indication - of him talking on the phone as he walked down the street.

It was a smaller blurb next to his picture that really caught your attention, though. Instagram posts say one thing, but past behavior says another! And below that was an inset picture of the two of you taken from a distance at the airport - along with two photos of Dieter and other women. Christen and Tina. 

You knew that it was a bad idea. But you still reached for the magazine and tossed it into the cart, fighting back the urge to open it and flip to the article while you waited in line. But that would be weird. 

So you forced yourself to wait until you’d paid for your groceries and were sitting in the parking lot, grabbing for the magazine and finding the correct pages. 

As you read them, you couldn’t contain your laughter. The “article” was little more than a few paragraphs picking apart Dieter’s social media posts, as well as Tina’s, and then pictures next to brief mentions of multiple other women he’d been linked to in the past - including Jennifer Pearson, Carol Cobb and Mara. You - like Christen - were simply listed as a “mystery woman”, and by the time you finished reading, you were upset that you’d shelled out the money to buy it. 

Then, you did the only thing you could think of and held the magazine up next to your face, grinning as you raised your phone and took a selfie. Attaching it to a text message, you sent it to Dieter, along with one sentence: Baby’s first tabloid cover! 

Still laughing as you put the car into drive, you wondered if anything would come of the cover as it related to your social media or privacy. It’s not like some people don’t know who I am, I’ve been on TV for years. 

Just as you pulled into your parents’ driveway, your phone rang, Dieter’s face on the screen. “Hey.” Answering it through your car’s Bluetooth, you put the car back into park, leaning against your seat. “You didn’t need to call.”

“Yeah, I did. I didn’t even know that issue was going to print those. I usually get a heads up.”

“Dieter, it’s fine.” Rubbing at your temple, you grinned. “I’m actually kind of annoyed that I’m listed as a mystery woman. These people must not watch Informal Eats, or know how to use Instagram, because -” 

“You could start tagging yourself in pictures.” He laughed and then you did, too. “The one you sent me would be kind of funny.” You hadn’t even considered that, but if Dieter was suggesting it, it was at least worth a thought. 

“Wouldn’t that be an official confirmation, though? I thought we weren’t doing that.” He sighed, and you heard the honking of a horn on his end of the call. Shit, I didn’t even think about where he might be. “Dieter? Are you busy? I don’t want to keep you.” 

“I’m walking to get coffee.” He cleared his throat. “We’ve got a night shoot tonight and then we’re taking a couple days off for the holiday. They don’t celebrate it up here, but a lot of the cast and crew are American, so…” 

“Who are you spending Thanksgiving with?” Chewing on your lower lip, you waited for his answer. 

“Michael and Jenna. He came in on Monday, and they invited me over for dinner.” Good. “Maybe next year we can spend it together.” His voice was quiet but you heard it nonetheless - his apprehension clear, even over the phone. Does he think I wouldn’t want to? 

“We should see how Christmas and New Year’s go, first.” Trying to decrease the tension, you nodded, eyes on the front door. “You might not like my family, and your friends might not like me.”

“I don’t have any real friends.” He laughed, saying your name again. “I made damn sure of that over the last couple years.” Oh, Dieter. You hadn’t really considered that - you’d seen pictures of him with people, heard stories of the time he spent hanging out with them while he was in LA between jobs. But are they really friends? Or is it just … “That’s the thing. When you’re not on the hard shit all the time, it gives you time to think.”

“Dieter, I -” He cut you off, though, his tone not unkind. 

“No, it’s alright.” The sound of a bell came through the speaker and you knew that the conversation was about to get cut short. “It’s the truth. I have people I can call friends, but it’s not … shit, I’m closer to Jenna and Michael than any of them, and I’ve gotta pay her to -”

“You do not.” Laughing, you sighed. “I mean, yeah you do pay her, but she’d still care about you even if you didn’t. These last few years have been weird for everyone, Dieter. Once you’re home for a while, you’ll see.” I hope I’m right. “I’m helping my mom cook for a while, and then I’m going home, so if you want to give me a call later, you can.” 

“I won’t be done tonight until at least 3, so that would be what, 6 am your time? I’m not going you call you that early.” He scoffed. “Too fuckin’ early.” 

“That’s one thing we can agree on.” Getting out of the car, you popped the trunk open, pausing next to it. “But seriously, call me whenever. I like hearing your voice.” He didn’t reply for a few seconds, and then Dieter said your name, waiting a couple breaths to continue. 

“I’m really sorry that they printed that picture. It’s been a week, and I didn’t think they would.”

“Dieter, you kissed me for a solid two minutes out in the open.” Laughing, you tilted your head back, the memory of his lips on yours widening your smile. “I’m surprised they didn’t post a better one.” He snorted at that, but you didn’t give him a chance to reply. “I’m not going to tag anything or post anything. I’m sure some people have already done it for me, but I have everything on silent except for alerts from people I follow, so if it’s up, I haven’t seen it.” 

“Alright.” He cleared his throat. “What are you making today?”

“Pies.” Pulling the trunk all the way open, you eyed the bags. “And we’re brining the turkey. And I’m sure I’ll have to prep at least one or two other sides, even though we’re only having a couple people over. There’s always way too much food.” 

“I’m sorry I won’t be there to help eat any of it. Or to answer questions.” He meant it - you could tell. And I appreciate it. “I should be.”

“No, you’ll be here for Christmas, and there will be way more people there to explain things to.” Tilting your head to the side to trap your phone between it and your shoulder, you paused. “Sorry, Dieter.” 

“I’m not.” You laughed again, fingers closing around the bag handles. “I’m looking forward to it.” So am I. 

—

By Monday morning, you were exhausted, despite the fact that you hadn’t done anything all weekend aside from eat and shop. 

You’d had to explain more than a few things to your relatives - a younger cousin in disbelief that you’d actually worked with Krystal Kris, and one of your aunts loudly questioning why, if you were seeing Dieter, he wasn’t there for the holidays. But aside from that, there hadn’t been much in the way of unexpected conversation, or prying from your family. 

It’s just having so much to do around so many people after so long of … Groaning as you tightened your hold on the steering wheel, you shook your head. “Too much socialization.” 

Once your family left after dinner and a few rounds of cards, you’d called Dieter, video chatting with the three of them for a few minutes and telling him to call you when he was back at his rented apartment. And when he’d done that, it had taken a while to rehash the conversations you’d had with your relatives - and the reactions you’d gotten. It would have been easier if you’d been together, but unexpectedly, just telling him about it had helped ease your stress level over how it had gone. And that’s a good thing.

After so much time spent secluded from the majority of the people around you, the holiday season getting started in full swing had been a shock. The stores were busy, the roadways were busy, and people - including some of your family members - were already unpleasant, even though it was still only November. 

And now I’ve got this meeting with Carmen. Pulling into the parking lot, you searched it for her car and parked next to it. You were a few minutes early, but you wanted to get things over with - because you wanted to know whether or not you’d still have a job in the coming months. Or if I’ll be starting over from scratch.

As you walked toward the doors, your phone rang, the sound pulling you from your thoughts. There was a familiar picture on the screen, and you couldn’t keep the smile off your face as you answered. “Dieter, you’re calling early. Why are -”

“It is really fucking early, but I wanted to wish you good luck.” He sounded half asleep and you could picture him, stretched out on his side and still under the blankets - hair wild and lines marking his skin from pressing his face against his wrinkled pillowcase. “I’m going back to sleep as soon as we hang up, but -”

“Thank you.” Leaning back against the low wall, you nodded. “I’m happy to hear from you.” 

“They’d be stupid not to agree to let you move somewhere and keep working.” He was mumbling, obviously still half asleep. “But even if they don’t, I’ll take care of you until you find something. Want to.” What? You froze at the words, unsure of whether or not Dieter even realized he’d said them, but when he continued, you knew that he had. “Won’t be able to afford you using Uber Copter every day, but…” 

A loud burst of laughter broke the tension and moments later he joined in, the sound low and rumbling. I miss you so much, Dieter. “Go back to bed. You won’t need to take care of me. Promise.” 

“I love you.” You didn’t say it every time you hung up, or at the end of every text conversation, so hearing the words from Dieter still hit just as hard as they had the first time. Who am I kidding? They always will. 

“I love you too, Bravo. Now go back to sleep. Can’t have you looking like a raccoon on set today.” 

You hung up moments later, and after giving yourself a few seconds to compose yourself - and to remind yourself to bring up Dieter’s offer to take care of you at a later date - you headed inside the building and straight for the elevator. One thing at a time, though. 

Carmen was waiting for you in her office, her desktop covered with folders and a few stacks of paper. “It’s good to see you again.” She looked up at you, gesturing for you to sit. “Have a good weekend?”

“I did. This is the first real holiday I’ve spent at home since before the pandemic.” Sinking into the chair across from hers, you scooted it in, resting your elbows on the desk’s edge. “It’s weird to get things back to almost normal, though.” She agreed, her smile understanding. “How about yours?” 

“It was great. Just the two of us.” She sighed. “I cooked and we just watched movies, and it was amazing to turn off my phone and laptop for a couple days.” She sighed, flipping through the papers directly in front of her. “Now I just have to get through everything for the next couple weeks, and then Nate and I are going to be in Rome for the holidays.” Oh, I didn’t know that. 

“Well, then…” Licking your lips, you took a deep breath. “Let’s not waste any time.” The glint in her eyes told you that she’d been waiting for you to start speaking, and so you didn’t disappoint. “I’m…” Glancing down at your hands for a few seconds and then reaching up to touch the pendant you wore, you steeled yourself for what was coming next. “Carmen, Dieter and I are together. We pretty much have been since… well since Christmas last year, but we just made it official when I was in Texas.” 

“Congratulations.” Her smile grew, the woman reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. “That’s got to be the worst kept secret in the world, but…” Both of you laughed, Carmen pulling her hand back and picking up one of the folders before holding it out to you. “You seem happier.” 

“I am.” Taking the folder, you flipped it open, eyeing the same contract that she’d already emailed to you. “But the reason that I wanted to meet with you in person was because I have a couple things that I’d like to talk with you about before I sign anything.” You tapped the papers. “There’s not really much in here about -”

“Are you quitting?” She leaned in, frowning. “Informal Eats wouldn’t be -” 

“I don’t want to quit, no.” Head shaking back and forth, you blew out a breath. “I just … I guess the only way to say it is to say it.” Here goes nothing. “I’m thinking about moving out of Atlanta, Carmen. Either to New York City or to Los Angeles, and I … I guess I’m wondering if it would be possible for me to keep doing what I’ve been doing, but not live here.” You paused, trying to gauge her reaction, but the Carmen’s face was impassive. “You’re based in Atlanta, and I know that won’t change, but …” 

She said your name, the look in her eyes changing to one of amusement. “Are you moving in with Dieter?” Well that was blunt. 

“I’m thinking about it.” You covered your face with both hands, the folder dropping to the desktop. “He’s got a house in LA and an apartment in New York, and he offered me either of them if I could work something out with you. I know there’s offices in -”

“Congratulations.” Carmen leaned back, tilting her head to one side. “There wouldn’t be any relocation assistance or anything, but …” She shrugged, wrinkling her nose. “Just because I’m based out of Atlanta, that doesn’t mean that you need to be.” She gestured at the paperwork on her desk. “Why would you even think that it would be a problem?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.” You frowned. “I guess because I’ve always lived here, and this is where I signed the first contract, and I started out … here, so…” So I just assumed I had to stay. “I will be honest with you, though, Carmen. At some point, I’m going to want to do something else, and I have been actively looking into more projects like the one I worked on in England.” You held up the folder again. “But according my agent, the way this is structured, it’d be easy for me to find something in the months that I’m not shooting the show, if I wanted to.” 

She nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. “We can amend the contract.” The woman took a deep breath, pressing her lips together. “I can have it rewritten, so it’s only one season at a time instead of two. The number of episodes per season will be the same, and we can make it so that you just have to electronically sign the -” 

“No.” You made the decision almost immediately, leaning forward and resting your hand atop the document. “No, I’ll commit to two more seasons. Sixteen total episodes.” Flipping through the pages, you ran your finger down the outline. “Starting in February and running through until next January?” She nodded when you glanced up. “I can do that. I want to do that. I love the show and I love working with you and the crew, but I also… I love him, and being so far away all the time is…” 

“I know.” She smiled, opening her desk drawer and reaching inside for a pen. “The one good thing this pandemic did was show us that we can do most of this shit remotely. Hell, you could move to Minnesota and you’d still be able to keep your job, as long as you could check in when we needed you to.” She grinned, holding out the pen. “Here.” 

“It can’t be this easy.” You took the pen, though, drawing in a deep breath and holding it, meeting her eyes. “Carmen?” 

“It is this easy. The only thing that would change is the airport you fly out of and back into at the end of your trips.” Her smile widened. “There is one thing, though.” Of course there is. “I want to meet him. I am the one that got you the job on Cliff Beasts, and I think I deserve to -” 

Your laughter drowned out her speech, and as you leaned forward, putting the tip of the pen to the paper, she laughed, too. “Yeah, you do, Carmen.” Finishing your signature and adding the date, you dropped the pen and stood, waiting for Carmen to do the same. “He’s coming here for Christmas. I know you’re going to Rome, but if he’s here before you leave, you can meet him then.” 

“Good.” She stepped around the desk and toward you, the woman holding her arms out. “Congratulations on your contract renewal.” Yeah. You were surprised at how much relief you felt at the realization that you were gainfully employed for another year - and that you hadn’t had to sacrifice either your job or the potential to be closer to Dieter to accept the position. “And congratulations on Dieter, too.”

When you hugged her, it was a tight one, the embrace similar to the ones you’d shared before - after meeting for the first time, after filming your pilot, after signing your other contracts - and you were thrilled that it felt just as good that time, too. 

The two of you separated and when you met her eyes again, you were smiling - and so was Carmen. “I’d ask you to come out and grab a drink with me, but…” You glanced at the clock. “It’s barely 10 in the morning, so…”

“Yeah, I’ve got a bunch of stuff to get through today anyway.” She pushed you away gently, her gaze still focused on you. “Plus, from what it sounds like, you need to start figuring out where you’ll be living a couple months from now.” At that, you froze, both eyes going wide. 

Yeah… I guess I do. 

— 

The closer it got to the holidays, the more nervous you were. 

It wasn’t that you were worried about seeing Dieter again, because you knew that he was just as excited as you were. It wasn’t even that you were worried about him meeting your family and some of your friends, because he’d told you that he looked forward to it. 

You were afraid that when Dieter saw how you lived, he’d change his mind about everything. You’d only known each other in temporary housing; rooms designed for short-term use, and the idea of Dieter in your space - using your bathroom and making coffee in your kitchen and sleeping in your bed - was overwhelming. Because we’re used to different things.

You decorated before he got there; stringing brightly colored lights around your windows and on the branches of your tree. Ornaments joined them, and so did a few garlands strategically placed throughout the main rooms of your place. And when you were done, everything felt homey, the soft glow of the tiny lights casting warmth throughout the space and making you feel better. I didn’t realize how much I missed decorating last year.

In the days leading up to Dieter’s arrival, you got some shopping done. Not only did you restock your fridge and cupboards, but you bought gifts, too, figuring that you wouldn’t want to go out to too many places with him there. It wasn’t because you wanted to hide Dieter. You wanted him to feel comfortable no matter where he was, and stores and malls would be busy so close to the holidays. And I don’t want to put him on the spot if anyone recognizes him. 

You were checking things over in the few minutes before you had to leave to pick Dieter up from the airport when you heard someone knock. I’m not expecting anyone. Frowning, you made your way from your bedroom to the front door, peeking through the peephole before opening it. 

All you saw were flowers - a large bouquet, from the looks of it, and so you sighed, pulling the door open. “Hello? Can I -”

“Special delivery.” You froze at the sound of the voice, eyes going wide as you watched the flowers move to one side to give you a glimpse at the man carrying them. “Thought I’d bring them to you myself instead of having ‘em delivered.” His smile widened but you couldn’t move, instead just staring. Dieter’s here. I was supposed to pick him up, and - 

“You’re here. But I was just getting ready to … how? How are you …” 

“Took an earlier flight.” He bit down on the inside of his lower lip, the look in his eyes shifting to one of disbelief. “I wanted to surprise you.” 

“You did.” You finally moved, reaching out and taking the flowers from him before turning to put them on top of the table against the wall. “Dieter, this is the best fucking surprise ever.” Once both of your hands were free, you reached for him and twisted your fingers in the material of his jacket, pulling him into your apartment. “Come here, Bravo.” 

Dieter reached behind him and grabbed the handle of his suitcase, dragging it after him and over the sill, only letting it go to pull on the knob to close the door behind him. Then he reached for you. 

When his arms wound around you, you sighed deeply, turning your head so that you could press your cheek against the front of his shoulder. Closing your eyes, you just held him, focusing on the way that even though he’d just come from an airport - and a cross country flight - he still smelled like Dieter, and you knew that within a night or two, so would your bed and your blankets. He’s in my apartment. He’s here. “I’m happy to see you, too.” He murmured the words, one hand moving up the center of your back and coming to rest between your shoulders. “You scared me for a second there.” 

“I did?” You stepped backwards without letting him go. “I didn’t mean to. I was just … shit. I guess I was in airport mode.”

“That’s one of the reasons I did what I did.” He moved his hands to your arms and slid them down, squeezing your hands before he let go. “Didn’t want you to have to go anywhere near that goddamn place so close to Christmas.” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “No, seriously. I know it’s a fucking nightmare. I filmed a movie here a while ago, and it was bad, and that was on a regular day.” 

He toed his shoes off, and you watched as he looked around, eyes narrowed and his tongue visible where it poked into his cheek. He hates it. It’s too small. “How was your flight?” You were nervous, and you knew that it was irrational. You and Dieter had been through plenty together, and had gone much longer between visits before. Do I really feel like this because of my apartment? “Did -”

“Can I tell you something?” He turned to face you, putting one hand on his hip. “I’ve seen pictures of this place, and I’ve seen it when we FaceTime and …” He wet his lips. “I knew what it looked like, but …” Dieter moved closer, both of his hands rising so that he could hold your jaw between his palms. “It’s even better than I thought.” 

“What?” You were confused, even as his thumbs swept over your skin. “Better? It’s just an apartment.” 

“Yeah, but it belongs to you.” He leaned closer, your foreheads touching. “And you invited me to see it and to meet your family, and …” He hummed, lips moving against yours. “And I still can’t fuckin’ believe it.” Believe it, Dieter. You wanted to laugh at that, but he didn’t let you, the gentle press of his mouth turning more insistent as he kissed you for the first time since Vancouver. “Love you.” He paused long enough to speak, nodding twice as he said it. “I’m so goddamn excited to be here with you.” 

“Yeah.” You kissed him one last time and then pushed him away with one hand. “But we’re going to be busy, Dieter. We have a couple parties and the actual holiday, and -”

“We’re not busy tonight though, right?” No, we’re not. “Because I’m pretty sure that I saved us a couple hours by getting here early.” His smile widened, and Dieter’s gaze dropped from your face to your body and then rose, the look in his eyes changing to a heated one that you knew well. “And that means we have extra time now.” 

“Do you have something in mind?” You had an idea where he was going, but giving him shit was something that you enjoyed. “Do you want a tour of my place? Or need to take a nap? Or want to - “

“Tour later.” He stepped forward and you backed up, heartbeat thumping. “And I’ll sleep tonight. But right now…” He sucked air through his teeth, hands moving down and to your hips. “I’ve been thinking about you since I dropped you off at that airport, and I wanna do something about it.” He slipped his fingertips beneath the top elastic of your leggings, the warmth of his skin making you gasp. “If that’s alright with you.” 

“The bedroom is -” He shook his head, cutting you off. “Ok, the couch -”

“No.” Dieter chuckled, more of his fingers pushing between the material and your skin and then pushing downward. “No, you’ve got a counter right behind you, and if you sit on it, you’re the perfect height.” You gasped again and felt your stomach lurch, but instead of letting him continue to remove your pants, you grabbed for him, one hand making its way to the tangle of curls on his head and the fingers of the other curling around his arm and gripping him tightly. That was accompanied by a bruising kiss, Dieter meeting you in the middle with his lips already parted, his tongue peeking through. 

It was shocking to you how much you’d missed him, and how much missing him was amplified by having him right in front of you - and in your arms again. The kiss went on, turning sloppier by the second, and you felt the elastic snap back into place when Dieter moved his hands up, sliding them along your sides and pushing your shirt up with them. 

You didn’t want to let go of his hair, but you did, raising your arms above your head so that when he pulled away to breathe, breaking the kiss, he was able to remove it completely. He touched you greedily, fingers stroking over your bared skin, and when he ducked his head down so that his mouth could trek across your upper chest, you tilted your head back and sighed, one hand gripping the edge of the counter and the other once again tangled in his hair. 

“Missed you,” he mumbled without backing off. “Missed you so goddamn much.” You agreed, looking down again, and when Dieter straightened up all the way, you saw that his eyes were shining. “Never missed anybody as much as I miss you.” Oh, Dieter. 

It was a shocking admission - and entirely unexpected coming from Dieter, but it was genuine, his jaw clenching as you absorbed the words. “I love you too, Dieter. And I was going to wait to tell you until later, but …” Biting your lip, you took a deep breath. “But if it’s alright with you, when I come out for New Year’s, I think I might stay a while, so you won’t have to miss me.” 

He hadn’t been expecting those words from you, either, but his reaction was immediate. Dieter encircled you with his arms, laughing as he pulled you against his chest. “Alright with me? Fuck, there’s nothing that would make me happier.” His voice was shaky, and even though you knew it was because he was just happy, it made you sniffle, too, as you closed your eyes and hugged him tightly. “Bring your whole fucking apartment if you want.” 

“I mean, I won’t have time to pack it all with you here, but…” You laughed again, meeting his eyes and reaching up to swipe away a tear from one of them. “My lease is up in February, and I really don’t want to sign another one, so…” 

“Yeah, I know.” He rolled his eyes and turned his head so that he could kiss the heel of your hand. “I’m just saying.” The two of you stared at each other in silence for a few seconds, and then it was Dieter that spoke, brows knit together in thought. “You mean it? You want to come stay with me?” 

“I do.” Twisting a curl near his temple around one finger, you nodded. “We’ve only been official for a little while, but it’s been … I’ve… we’ve …” 

“We coulda been together before I left England.” He shrugged. “I was just following your lead.” You groaned when he winked, but Dieter went on. “I get it. I want you there, too.” He tilted his head to the side, not breaking eye contact. “But I’m not easy to live with.” 

That made you laugh, and you waved him off, looking away briefly and then back at him. “I think if we made it through quarantine and not being allowed to leave each other’s presence for more than a few hours at a time, we can handle living in the same house and having options, Dieter. We’ll be fine. Besides,” you leaned closer, releasing your hold on his hair and gently tapping his cheek with your palm. “You’ve got a guesthouse, right?” 

That got a bigger laugh out of him, and Dieter lowered his head as he agreed with you, his hold on your hips tightening just enough that you could feel it. “I do.” When he looked up, all signs of amusement were gone from his features and he instead looked serious, his attention focused. “Now how about you get up on that counter and let me show you exactly what one of the benefits of living with me will be.” 

“Pants on or off?” Your desire for him grew again, warmth filling your belly and spreading. You’d never tire of Dieter looking at you the way he was that night, and part of you knew that he knew it, too. He needs to know it. 

“Off.” He nodded, stepping backwards. “All the way off.” You did as he asked without question, which left you only in your bra. You were quiet while he grabbed for one of your chairs and dragged it closer to you, but you gasped in shock when he sat down backwards on it, leaning forward and pressing his chest against the tall back, both of his hands reaching out to settle on your calves. “Get comfortable, because you’re gonna be here a while.” He arched a brow, locking eyes with you before he dropped his gaze to your waist and then lower while pulling your legs apart. “Fuck.” 

You pressed your lips together and then inched forward, hooking your legs over his shoulders and using both hands to brace yourself on the countertop. “That’s fine by me, Dieter.” The chair scooted forward a few more inches, which brought him closer, too, and when Dieter nodded, turning his head to the right and licking the inside of your thigh, you tensed, fingers curling against the laminate. Oh, that feels incredible… I missed him so much. 

“Mmmmhmm.” He turned his head the other way, and repeated the motion on your other thigh, his hands sliding up your bare legs and to your hips, pulling you even closer. “Fucking perfect.” 

— 

You hadn’t wanted to go, but Dieter insisted that the two of you head out to a get together one of your friends was hosting a few days before Christmas. 

It was at a local restaurant, and the text message you’d received explained that the entire upper floor was reserved for your group. The sentiment was nice, and you had gotten along well with her for a while, but you knew exactly why she’d reached out after so long. 

“Meg wants to meet you, Dieter.” You were getting ready in the bathroom while he got dressed in your bedroom, both of you fresh out of the shower. “She wants to use it as an opportunity to network, and I’ll bet you $100 that she flirts with you right in front of me within the first fifteen minutes of being introduced.” 

He poked his head in a few seconds later, and you caught his frown as a reflection in the mirror. “How does she know I’m here?” 

“I don’t know, maybe because of the pictures you posted the other day from the Coke museum and the aquarium?” Arching a brow at him, you tilted your head to the side. “Or the caption that very specifically said ‘a much different world of Coke than I’m used to’ with the emoji that’s laughing so hard it’s -”

“Ok, yeah, that might have been what did it.” He fully entered the room, and you took a few seconds to watch as he wrinkled his nose, raising both hands to drag them through his hair and push it into even more disarray. “I still think we should go, though.” 

“We’re going, Dieter. You said you wanted to, and that’s fine, I’m just telling you what to expect. This isn’t LA or New York, and the people I know here aren’t exactly drowning in celebrities, so … just be prepared for people to be a little overeager to impress you.” 

It would be the first real test of your relationship, and the first time Dieter met anyone in your life. And the fact that we’ve known each other for so long at this point makes that feel… fuck. It’s strange. You’d existed in a bubble of sorts for almost the entirety of your relationship, and with him visiting you, that was coming to an end in a very final way. 

“‘I’ll be fine.” He stepped up behind you, one hand on your shoulder and the other arm winding around your body to pull you back against his chest. “And so will you.” Dieter spoke into your ear, his voice quiet. “And if she flirts, I’ll shut that shit down right away, because -”

“No.” You bit your lip, turning toward him. “Don’t.” He was confused, but you didn’t let him stay that way. “I think it might be funny to watch her try to handle you.” 

“Handle me?” He scoffed. “You can barely handle me and you’ve known me for over a year.” That made you laugh, and you used one hand to pat Dieter’s chest gently. “What?”

“I learned a long time ago that handling you is impossible.” You blinked slowly, trying to school your expression into nonchalance. “I tolerate you.” It took about three seconds for Dieter to respond, and when he did you caught the roll of his eyes before he leaned in, mouth meeting yours. 

“That’s what you call it now?” He mumbled between kisses, his hands roaming over you. “Tolerating me?” You nodded, winding your arms around his neck and laughing against his lips. “Fucking unbelievable.” 

Having Dieter in Atlanta was better than you could have ever hoped for, and it seemed like he was enjoying himself, too. You’d spent plenty of time alone together, but he’d also wanted to go out and explore, asking you to show him the parts of the city and suburbs you liked most. It was easy to blend into the larger than usual holiday crowds in public places, and when Dieter wore a hat pulled down low over his ears and slipped on a pair of glasses, it disguised him almost completely. 

He wasn’t doing it on purpose, either, and that was what made it better. 

You hoped that you were able to settle into LA just as easily, though you didn’t think it would happen quite so fast. We’ll see. You pulled back with a sigh, closing your eyes. “As much as I’d love to stand here and do this all night, if you want to go to this thing, I need to finish getting ready.” You looked down and then gestured to your robe and slippers. “I don’t think I pull off this look as well as you do.”

“No.” He backed away, arms dropping from you before he raised one ringed finger and pointed it at you. “You pull it off much better.” It was a joke, but at the same time, you understood that it meant that Dieter truly didn’t care what you wore or how you looked, and if you chose to actually go out in public wearing the robe, he wouldn’t have batted an eye. “But I should probably put on a shirt to go into a restaurant, so I’ll stop annoying you now and go do that.” 

He winked and then turned away from you. As he made it to the doorway, you called out his name, waiting until he’d turned back in your direction to say anything else. “I never want you to stop annoying me.” 

— 

You’d barely taken a step into the room, and you were already ready to leave. But we’d have to wait for another Uber, and it’s surge pricing and … It wasn’t that it was loud in the room, because it wasn’t, or that it was overly crowded, because it was still early and people were filtering in - it was just that you knew exactly what you’d be dealing with for the following few hours. 

Dieter was beside you when you headed over to the bar, and after you both ordered, you carried your drinks over to a small, raised table with a good vantage point. You spent a few minutes pointing people out to Dieter, but after the third “I met them in college,” you stopped, shaking your head. “Are you even going to remember any of these names if you talk to them? It’s pointless, you won’t ever see them again after tonight.”

“I will.” He sipped his drink, angling his body toward you and resting his elbow on the table. “It’s just like memorizing lines.” That made sense to you, and you were somewhat irritated that you hadn’t made the same connection. 

“This feels kind of like that first Thanksgiving after high school where everyone’s home from college and pretending they didn’t just see each other a few weeks earlier.” He drank again, watching you from over the rim of his glass. 

“Or like a fucking Hollywood circlejerk where everyone’s too fucking excited to tell everyone else that they know someone and can get them in touch with -” You snorted, reaching up to cover your mouth to hide your laugh. 

“It’s so good to see you!” A cheerful voice interrupted Dieter, and when you looked toward the source, you saw Meg approaching the table, a necklace of blinking Christmas lights resting against her chest and highlighting the low-cut top she wore. “I’m glad you made it.” You caught the way her gaze moved from you to Dieter and barely stopped the roll of your eyes at how obvious it was. “And you, too. It -”

“Dieter Bravo.” He held his hand out, smiling. “Are you the one that organized this?” The smile stayed on his face, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Nice to meet you. Meg?” She took his hand and shook it, her giggle audible even over the music playing through the speakers. 

“That’s me.” She bit her lip and tossed her hair over one shoulder. “I’ve met you before though. When you filmed here? We were eating dinner at the same restaurant, and I sent a drink over to your table.” She cleared her throat, leaning in, and for a few seconds, you were horrified at the thought that she was going to remind him of something happening between them. That would ruin everything, even though it was so long ago. “You came over and talked for a few minutes, and -”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t remember that.” He pulled his hand back, lifting his drink to sip from it. “That was a while ago, and I probably had a lot going on.” You watched her recoil slightly, Meg’s eyes dropping and then rising again to meet Dieter’s as he reached over to put his arm around you. “Thanks for the drink, though.” 

It shocked you how dismissive he was being, because you’d never seen Dieter act that way before. Not even with David. “I… you’re welcome.” Meg took a long drink from her wine glass, and you could tell she was nervous - and a little surprised at his reaction. “How long are you in town for?” She looked at you then, wetting her lips. “Are you back for good? You’ve been busy; it feels like you haven’t been home since before the pandemic.” I didn’t know you kept tabs on my travels.

“I’m back for a little while.” You finally spoke, shifting your feet and shrugging your shoulders. “I just signed a new contract for the show, so I’ll be working on that starting next February.” But I won’t be doing it from here. “And Dieter’s just here for Christmas. He wanted to meet my family and couldn’t make it out last month.” 

“I was filming.” He grinned again, wiggling his eyebrows. “TV show.” You knew what he was doing - trying to throw Meg off balance by flipping between being aloof and almost too friendly within the same conversation. I think it’s working. “But we’re going to LA for New Year’s, so I won’t be out here for too long.” He laughed, his fingers circling slowly against your lower back. “And between the three of us? I hope she likes LA enough to consider staying.” 

His words surprised you almost as much as they surprised Meg, and you knew with certainty that that was exactly what Dieter had hoped for. Sneaky little shit. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” You turned your head and Dieter did the same, meeting your gaze. I see you, Bravo. “But we’ll see.” 

He smirked for a second and then closed the distance between you, lips soft when they met yours. “We will.” He spoke so that only you could hear, and when you looked back at Meg a few moments later, you saw that her eyes were wide. That just confirmed everything even more than anything we’ve said here. “You married, Meg? Or dating anyone?” 

It took all of your self control to keep from laughing at Dieter’s abrupt change in topic, but when she spluttered out a response and then pointed back over her shoulder, you followed the gesture, moving in your seat to see who she was pointing at. “I hope it’s not weird, but I’m here with Sam, and -” 

You froze at her words, and suddenly it all made sense. Dieter stiffened beside you, and when you reached for your drink, your heart was pounding. Sam as in… fuck. It made sense - you’d all known each other for years, but no part of you had realized that Meg and Sam had kept in touch. Or that they liked each other enough to date. He told me last month that … what the fuck. 

She excused herself to go and get him, and once she walked away, Dieter pivoted toward you, concern written all over his face. “You alright? That went from zero to fucking 60 in -”

“I’m fine.” You paused. “It’s going to be a little weird for you to meet the last guy I was with, but … it just took me by surprise.” Dieter’s other hand rose, fingers bent, and he trailed his knuckles against your cheek. “And she was flirting with you, just like I said she would.” 

“She was, but do you blame her?” He fluttered his eyelashes, the genuine smile back on his face. “It’s me after all.” That made you laugh, some of the tension leaving your body. “And it won’t be weird. I promise.” He shrugged and then leaned in so that he could speak directly into your ear. “Think about how fucking weird it’s going to be for him to meet me, though.” 

You hadn’t considered that - but he was right. It will so much weirder for Sam. Dieter kissed the space just in front of your ear before straightening up and scanning the room. You did the same, eyeing the buffet table set up a few feet away and frowning. I wish we’d stopped to grab snacks. “What was that, by the way? I’ve never seen you act that way with anyone, and I’m surprised you were so quick to pull the I’m not into this card.” 

“She fucked herself over.” He sniffed and finished his drink, tossing the last swallow back before sucking an ice cube between his teeth. “Flirting is one thing but being fucking rude to you and bringing up sending over that drink? Fuck that. It’s a game to her, and that’s not what you are to me.” 

His words hit hard. Dieter’s playfulness was one of the things that drew you to him, as was his sense of humor and his ability to read a situation and play off of it. But with you, from almost the beginning, he’d been honest with you, speaking his mind and giving things to you straight. He’d never led you on or made your friendship the butt of a joke, and while you hadn’t thought he would do it regarding your relationship, either, that night was proof. I needed that. I needed to know. 

“Thank you, Dieter.” You reached out to take his hand, linking your fingers with his and rubbing your thumb over the ring you’d borrowed. “That means a lot.” He squeezed your hand and then lifted both of them, bringing the back of yours up so that he could kiss it. You were no stranger to Dieter’s tiny moments of intimacy, but after keeping yourselves hidden for so long, them happening in public took you by surprise. 

Movement out of the corner of your eye caught your attention, and you sighed as you watched Sam and Meg heading toward you, their shoulders touching as they walked side by side. You wondered how long they’d been dating, or if they’d talk about it, and then you wondered if it was strange for you to ask. But she said she was here with him, not that they were dating. Maybe I jumped to conclusions. 

Sam spoke first, saying hello to you and then sticking his hand out to Dieter as he made an introduction. Dieter moved smoothly, keeping your fingers linked as he reached out to shake Sam’s with his free one. “It’s nice to meet you, Dieter.” He retracted his hand and then leaned against the table, nodding before he looked over at you. “And it’s good to see you again, too. Sorry I haven’t had a chance to get ahold of you, the holidays are just…” He rolled his eyes. “You know.” 

“I do.” You exhaled slowly, giving him a wary smile before you turned your attention to Meg. “We were supposed to meet for lunch, and we just … haven’t.” She seemed surprised, her lips parting as her eyes flicked to Dieter. He doesn’t care, but nice try. “I didn’t know the two of you were still in touch.” You arched a brow and sipped your drink as your attention returned to your ex. “You didn’t say anything about it when we last talked. How’d this happen?”

“We did a lot of Zoom game nights.” Sam reached up and ran his fingers through his hair. “We couldn’t do bar trivia because everything was closed, so…” He shrugged. “Kept in touch that way for a while, and then a couple weeks ago...” Sam trailed off, and even though he looked slightly uncomfortable, he didn’t try and overexplain anything.

“We had our first few conversations over a balcony wall.” Dieter rolled his eyes. “Well, after we met in the hotel lobby, anyway. We weren’t allowed to leave our rooms for two weeks before we started working on the movie, and she was in the room next door.” 

“You make it sound like you settled for talking to me, Dieter.” Nudging him with your shoulder, you laughed. “Ouch.” 

“You were quarantined with him?” Meg leaned in, her attention fully on you. “Oh, I didn’t know that.” 

“It’s all going to be talked about in the documentary.” You scratched the side of your neck. “I can’t really go into it now, but yeah. I only got the job working for Cliff Beasts because I got sick filming my show, and got stuck in the hotel. So I actually ended my quarantine just as the cast got there to start theirs, and it all worked out.” 

“I’d sit on my balcony and watch her walking around the hotel property.” Dieter let go of your hand and put both of his on the table. “She was the only one that wasn’t hotel staff that wasn’t stuck in their damn room. It was fucking depressing.” 

“We got through it, though.” You finished your drink, too, and then pushed the empty glass to the center of the table. “And now we’re here.” Sam nodded, eyeing you and then looking over at Dieter. What are you thinking about? 

“Is it weird for you, Dieter?” He smiled, nose wrinkling. “To be standing here, talking to -”

“No.” There was no gestation on Dieter’s part when he answered, the hand that had been holding yours moving to your back. “Not at all. I’ve heard a lot about you, and I figured we’d meet at some point.” That surprised Sam - and Meg, too, the woman sucking in a breath as she straightened up. “And since we’re out of here in a couple days, now’s as good a time as any.” 

“She’s going to Los Angeles for New Year’s.” Meg reached over and touched Sam’s arm. “And maybe for longer.” Well shit. You hadn’t counted on her bringing it up again so quickly - or having to explain yourself to your ex. But I’m going to have to tell my family so fuck it, I guess. 

But as silence hung between the four of you, you felt yourself sway, anxiety building in your chest. It’s too much. It’s happening too fast. 

“Well, this whole thing is weird for me, to be perfectly honest.” You reached for your glass again, picking it up and then staring down into it, like your wish for a refill would make one appear. “But yes. Meg’s right. Christmas in Georgia. New Year’s and beyond in California.” You set the glass down and then backed up, lifting both hands. “Right now, though? I’m going to get another drink.” 

You left the table without saying anything else, heart pounding in your chest while you headed for the bar. What the fuck was that? You’d gone from being totally at ease and joking around with Dieter to being overwhelmed in seconds, even though you had no real reason to be. 

It wasn’t that telling Sam bothered you. It wasn’t even that the two men were face to face. So what is it then? Why do I feel this way? You ordered your drink and then waited patiently, fingertips tapping on the bartop. 

“Are you Dieter Bravo?” A woman’s high-pitched voice reached your ears, and when you turned toward the sound, drink in hand, you saw that one of the other party guests was gaping at Dieter, who stood a few feet away, one hand in his pocket. “I loved you in -”

“Yes. I am. Thanks.” He flashed her a quick smile, and then pointed at you. “I’m just trying to get to my girlfriend, though.” It was the first time he’d referred to you in that way, and even though the crowd was loud, you heard him clearly. He called me his … 

Your unease faded as Dieter approached you, concern in his eyes. “Dieter, I -” 

“Come on.” He reached out, taking your hand and leading you away from the bar. “Come with me.” He opened a door that you hadn’t noticed that led out  into a back hallway. Once the door shut behind you, he backed away and leaned against the wall, loosely crossing his arms. “I’m not going to ask if you’re alright, but I’m going to ask if this is better.” 

“Yes.” You closed your eyes and nodded. It is. “Yeah, Dieter, I don’t … I don’t know what happened in there. It -”

“I know exactly what happened.” He said your name, waiting until you opened your eyes to say anything more. “You got ambushed. And you had to answer questions you weren’t expecting because you shouldn’t  have expected ‘em five minutes after you walked into a Christmas party.” He moved closer to you, reaching for the drink you held and taking it from you. “It wasn’t what you answered that fucked you up, it was that you felt like you had to tell them anything in the first place.” He took a drink and then handed it back to you, waiting. 

“I didn’t have to answer. I could have changed the subject. I should have. But when she said she was here with Sam, it threw me off, and I felt like I should say something back.” You couldn’t even pinpoint why, exactly, but it was the truth. “Dieter, what if this happens in California? These are just people I know. Out there, it’ll be people you’ve worked with or might work with in the -”

“I don’t care.” He reached for you, putting one hand on each shoulder and squeezing. “I won’t care. Say whatever the fuck you want. That’s what I’ve done for my entire career.”

“But I’m not you.” You felt tears welling up in your eyes. “And if this is what happens to me at a party like this with people I know, LA is going to … fuck, Dieter. What if I fuck it all up? I’m going to embarrass you.” That’s it. This… this makes it real, and when it’s real, it might fail, and I don’t want that failure to be my fault.

“It takes a hell of a lot to embarrass me.” Leaning in, he pressed his forehead to yours and shook his head slowly. “I almost fucking died in front of you, and you’re worried about saying too much or the wrong thing to someone you may never see again? Fuck that. And fuck anyone that makes you feel like that.” Dieter’s hands slid from your shoulders to your biceps, the motion soothing. “Sam congratulated us, by the way. And I think it surprised Meg that he’s cool with it, but they still walked away together, so… who knows.” 

That made you laugh, and after you took a deep breath to steady yourself, you cleared your throat. “Maybe she thought that I’d get jealous seeing them together, and it would leave you free.” He widened his eyes and then made a face. What, is she not your type? “I heard what you called me by the bar, Dieter. I … I didn’t realize how much I’d like hearing that.”

“After telling you I love you, calling you my girlfriend seems pretty damn inadequate, but…” He lifted and then dropped his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “For now, it’s the truth.” For now? What does that mean? “It’s going to be fine. All of it. I don’t care if every single one of those people out there fucking hates me. I’m here for you and for your family. They’re the important ones.” 

Dieter wet his lips and then pulled the lower one back between his teeth, frowning as he eyed you. “What?” You took a small drink, swallowing and then taking a deep breath. “What’s that look for, Dieter?” 

“I knew what coming out here meant.” He gestured at the door behind you with one hand, his rings catching the light, silver flashing as his hand moved. “I knew that being here unannounced and ‘unplanned’ was going to get people talking. I can handle it, because I’m used to it, but I didn’t… fuck, I didn’t think about you not being used to it or the attention or the questions. I’m fucking sorry. I should have. I’ve been deflecting bullshit for years, and it’s like breathing for me, but you … shit.” 

“Dieter, no, it’s fine. I’m… I’m going to have to get used to it, right?” You rubbed at the bridge of your nose with two fingers, sighing. “There’s a public aspect that comes along with being with you, and even though some people are familiar with me, if I go places or to premieres or events with you, I’m going to get asked questions, and -”

“If?” He scoffed, his smile returning as he stepped closer. “You’re not gonna be able to get rid of me that easy. As far as I’m concerned, you’re coming to everything with me.” What? Is he serious? “So get ready for it.” 

That made you laugh, and as the sound escaped your lips, you realized that you actually felt better. You were calmer and more collected, your heartbeat almost back to normal. “I love you, Dieter. I didn’t mean to … I don’t know. It’s just a lot.” 

“It is.” He slid one arm around your waist, the other going around your shoulders as he pulled you in for a hug. “And I’ve got a secret to tell you.” He kissed your cheek before turning his head, his stubbled cheek rubbing against yours as his lips moved to hover just over your ear. “I’ve never cared so much about whether or not something goes well in my entire life.” He paused, and despite the muffled noise of the party just beyond the hallway, you heard that his inhale was shaky. “So you’re not gonna fuck this up. That’s not even an option.” 

“If you say so.” His words stunned you, but you believed them, and could feel the sincerity pouring off of Dieter as he held you close. “Thank you. I know this isn’t how you wanted to spend tonight, so…” You nuzzled against his cheek, tightening your arms and being careful not to spill your drink down his back. “I appreciate it.” 

When you separated a few seconds later, the two of you took deep breaths, but it was Dieter who spoke first. “Do you want to leave?” He shrugged. “We can stop on the way home for food, or just go back and order something.” He paused, cocking his head to the side and then grinning at you. “Or, do you want to stay and spend the next couple hours listening to me come up with new bullshit stories about making movies and filming TV shows and being friends with half of Hollywood?” 

He was giving you an out - two of them, if you were truthful. Because if you left, you’d both have a relaxing night in your apartment doing what you were already so comfortable with. And if you stayed, he’d volunteered to do the heavy lifting for you with the party crowd, turning on the charm and keeping them occupied. It took a lot out of him - and you both knew it - but you also knew that Dieter wouldn’t have made the offer if he hadn’t wanted to. He’d do that for me. 

“How about this.” You flattened one hand on his chest, and then used two fingers to undo another button on his shirt. “We go back out there and get something to eat and mingle for a little while.” He nodded slowly, eyes locked with yours. “And then, when you’re ready to leave, you tell me it’s time, and I’ll walk out of here with no questions asked.” 

“You sure?”

“I am.” Sliding your fingertips under his shirt, you rested them over his heart. “I just needed a minute, Dieter. It got real all of a sudden, and I wasn’t expecting it to.” 

He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. “I know.” He nodded twice. “I’ve been there.” When he backed up, you let your hand drop from his body. But Dieter didn’t let it fall all the way, catching it and linking your fingers together. “But the difference is that I didn’t have someone like me to step in.” 

He didn’t say anything more, but he did turn and head for the door without letting go. His words hit you hard; it was always the little things that he added as almost an afterthought that impacted you the most. He revealed the most about himself in small doses - Dieter’s admissions giving you a more thorough picture of exactly what his younger years had been like. And he trusts me enough to tell me the truth. 

You’d need his help navigating the new - and much more public - lifestyle that being with him would bring, and you both knew it. Nights like that one and other firsts would be difficult for you, but as you re-entered the party, the music and sounds of people talking growing louder, you understood that it wouldn’t always be that way. 

The two of you joined the small crowd around the buffet table, and Dieter finally let go of your hand to reach for a plate, handing it over to you before taking one of his own. You watched him fill it with finger foods and dips, turning his head and making an offhand comment to the man next to him, both of them laughing as they reached for pretzels. 

He fits in here. It was the final thing you needed to calm yourself entirely, and when he looked over at you, his smile wide, and winked, you laughed too. He can do this, and so can I. It would take time and effort to make your relationship work, but it was worth it. No question there. 

And the more comfortable you became with things, the more both of you would be able to relax and just enjoy being together - as you had in the months you’d spent getting to know each other. Once all of the formalities - and introductions - were done, it would be easier to focus on the future, whatever that entailed.

And you might not have had anyone before, Dieter … but now you do.

—

[prettygoododds]

2024 Roundup

Thank you @rimeswithpurple and @nausikaaa for the tag!

I've been looking at everyone's 2024 roundup and I'm blown away by how hard this fandom works. So many pieces of art, baked goods, and words written all in the name of one horny vamp and a devil-tailed muppet.

That being said, I didn't do near as much as you all have done. But here it was I accomplished this year:

Was surprised to see that I wrote 91,875 words this year. I can get very dialogue heavy and I'm really trying to work on my descriptions and such. I think the word count points to progress.

I finished one fic. Started another. and completed the COC Countdown this year.

FIC COMPLETED

Sugar We're Going Down Swinin' (Explicit, 32k, hockey fic)

I started this for 2023 COBB and I wanted to finish it before I needed to delve into 2024 COBB. This fic is one I'm really proud of.

FIC I STARTED

Picket Fence is Sharp As Knives ( Explicit, 15k, unfinished AU)

This was my 2024 COBB submission. I'm still working on it, but got stalled and then COC happened and I put it on hold. I now have a good outline for the rest and should finish that up here soon. Maybe before COBB 2025 starts....

COC 2024

As Seen On TV (mature 44k)

believe this was my 4th year participating in the COC and as always it's one of my favorite things to do in this fandom. The pressure, the prompts, ,the pressure.... oh wait I said that. And I truly can't believe that this year 's countdown had me writing my longest fic to date.

In none SnoBaz news, I a took up another hobby. I started crocheting in October when my work ran a 4 week workshop for beginners. I've basically been alternating between one night crocheting , one night writing since then. I'm currently making my cat a couch (don't judge, I promise she deserves it) Here are my creations:

Goals for next year.... hmmmmm.....

I know I need to carve more time in my schedule for writing. I'm bad at it. I seem to think that I only need to write when I have a solid idea, but I know that's not true. Just sit down, stare at the computer for an hour. You can always rewrite it if it's crap, but at least it's something.

I also want to get better at responding to comments. I long... no yearn for those comments. They get me though some really tough mental times. But man, I suck at letting you all know how much they mean to me. I'll work on it. I promise.

I hope to be able to take part in some more challenges this year. I've stuck to COBB and COC but maybe it's time to branch out. Throw some at me!

Either way, this fandom is the best. Here's to 2024 and may 2025 bring us more great content and friendships!

I tag: @ic3-que3n @dohrnaira @thewholelemon @facewithoutheart @artsyunderstudy @imagineacoolusername

@shemakesmeforget @ivelovedhimthroughworse @wellbelesbian @aristocratic-otter @cutestkilla @blackberrysummerblog

@supercutedinosaurs @nightimedreamersworld @valeffelees @iamamythologicalcreature @shrekgogurt

@ileadacharmedlife @martsonmars @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @hushed-chorus @roomwithanopenfire

@youarenevertooold @noblecorgi @bookish-bogwitch @talentpiper11 @monbons

[movietimegirl]

Things I want to in The Mandalorian S4 and The Mandalorian and Grogu movie:

More Helmentless Din and Grogu get to see his face. I feel like it's been a second since we seen Din's handsome face. Just want Grogu to touch his face again. But it all depends on Pedro's availability and working around his super busy schedule. I'm sure they can work something out.

Grogu's first words.🥺

More Grogu flashbacks after Order 66. What has happened to Kelleran Beq? Is he still alive.

Father and son bonding, of course!❤️

Bring Cobb back! We haven't seen him since the end credit of TBOBF. It's been so long.

While we're on that topic, can we see how Boba and Fennec are doing.

Seeing Mandolore after S3.

Bo Katan, The Armoer, Axe, Koska Reeves makes an appearance.

Ezra possible appearance.

Grogu gets more armor.

R5 is still around.

See their house on the inside, I want that so badly

Thrawn tease

Father and son kicking empire butt!

Grogu has new clothes! Get him out of that potato sack!

Din flashbacks, too. We need more background info on him!

More Grandpa Greef.

Peli Motto!!!

Another look in the New Republic

And that it. I'm just happy to see my favorite duo back and on the big screen.

[blackberrysummerblog]

Oh my goddd how is it already Sunday?! I’m leaving for a really big trip on Tuesday and so naturally my house is not ready for the dog-sitters to stay over, and I am not packed. No worries, I’m sure I’ve got this covered 😒

Thank you so much to everyone who’s been tagging me! There’s so much good reading out there, and the art this week for Simon’s birthday—I’m blown away by the talent in this fandom.

I haven’t done as MUCH writing as I would like—I’m at that stage in my life where I no longer handily remember huge swathes of my “internal” writing, so if I don’t get it down right away or get called off to do something in the middle, it’s lost, and that has been my entire week, folks. I did get some done though! Here’s a little bit from my COBB that I fully expect to get some blowback over, because…well. You’ll see:

I bend down to admire some perfectly iced cinnamon buns, and above me hear someone chuckle. “You’re a Pitch, aren’t you?”

I glance up. And up. I rise to my full height and…I’m still looking up. It’s not often that I find myself craning my neck to look someone in the face, but the cheerful-looking man behind the counter must stand 6’5”, at least. He has short dark hair, square-shaped glasses, and a curious glint in his deep brown eyes. There’s nothing unusual about him other than his height, and yet I find myself staring. After a moment, I realise he’d asked me a question. “I am,” I say, keeping my voice even.

He smiles, and something feels like it’s cracked inside me. “Yeah, well, I’m Adam,” Adam says, extending a floury paw. “Adam Price. Your ancestor relieved mine of a herd of goats 500 years ago.”

Long enough ago that a grudge isn’t worth bearing, but then again, this is Watford. I ignore his hand. “If your ancestor had paid mine her due, perhaps he wouldn’t have been so wracked with guilt that he thoughtlessly left his pen open one night. Goats are wont to wandering.”

“…wont to wandering…” Adam repeats, tilting his head as his hand drops reluctantly back to his apron. He narrows his eyes. “Your family raises goats now, doesn’t it?”

“They’re hardly 500 years old,” I scoff, then pause. “The goats or my aunts.”

So yeah, there’s that 🤣 By the way, the art for this fic is SO gorgeous—my partner has been absolutely amazing and I can’t wait for everyone to see it when we post!

This snippet is from the one where Simon cleans up the room after blowing up Baz’s bed, and meanwhile has to sleep on the floor. For the first couple of days, anyway. Ahem:

“Snow.” I’m standing in the middle of the room in my pyjamas, waving my arms. He drives me up a wall. “Take the bed. You’re walking like you’re a hundred and three.” I’ve been spelling the floor soft for him every night after he goes to sleep, but it doesn’t seem to have helped.

Simon is in his school-issued pyjama bottoms and a thin cotton t-shirt, standing mere inches in front of me on top of his blanket heap. He presses his lips together and shakes his head. The motion apparently triggers a crick in his neck, making him wince in pain. “The bed is big enough for two,” he allows.

Absolutely not. “Absolutely not,” I tell him firmly.

“It is!” he objects, misunderstanding.

“Snow.”

“If you don’t want to share, then it’s all yours,” he says stubbornly, sticking his chin up at me. He always has to look up at me. “Is it because you’re a vampire? I won’t stake you,” he adds.

Crowley below. I can’t think too much about that statement, but it’s the last straw. “Sleep on the floor, then. The hard, cold, stone floor.”

And that’s it! I may not be heard from for a couple of weeks, other than posting COBB should the schedule place us on early. I will be traipsing around Scotland, then Paris, and I think it’s going to be a pretty good time! I hope all of you have good things happening for you too. No pressure tags to:

@palimpsessed @rimeswithpurple @valeffelees @cutestkilla @artsyunderstudy @thewholelemon @youarenevertooold @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @bookish-bogwitch @orange-peony @j-nipper-95 @letraspal @roomwithanopenfire @asocialpessimist @aristocratic-otter @aceumbrellaheroes @drowninginships @thehoneyedhufflepuff @monbons @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @forabeatofadrum @c0nsumemy5oul @nausikaaa @alexalexinii @ileadacharmedlife @iamamythologicalcreature @tender-ministrations @fiend-for-culture @larkral @arthurkko @skee3000 @stitchy-queerista @ic3-que3n @raenestee @facewithoutheart @supercutedinosaurs @beastmonstertitan @mooncello @cows4247 @harrie-leithillustration @prettygoododds @sailorblossoms and anyone else with things to share!

[lothcat-lothcat-lothwolf-run]

Star Wars military writing promts

many of these (like the list of names) I wrote with the clones in mind, but you can use these for whatever you want. Here are som situations in which they might be applicable:

Stormtrooper daily life

a deep dive into Clone culture

Rebel base antics

and much more!

Dialogue 

 “I didn’t wanna be friendly with new recruits because seeing them killed…just tore me up”

“The older guys, they were like hero’s to us”

“I didn’t wanna get re-assigned to another unit” 

.“don’t be sorry, just grab your gun andget moving.”

“I like (insert planet here)!”

After making out with a civvie “let’s move, _____. We have work to do”

“Say goodbye to (whatever planet they’re on), I don’t think we’re coming back.”

“Sleeping outside is for suckers”

“This could be a life or death situation!!!!”*continues walking slowly*

Names

Bull (bullseye)

Heff (hefty)

___man

Easy 

Shifty

Webs

Lefty

pinup

Babe

Cobb

Smokey

Bugs 

Dice

Gamble

Pike

Arm

Hurricane 

Lanky

Anymore (always asking for seconds at meals?)

Quip

Flip

Breaker

Dips

Walker

Spades

Hammer

Meloorun (ate a meloorun for lunch 5 days in a row)

Pretzel (got hit in the head with a pretzel during a food fight)

Treeman (walked into a tree, went unconscious) 

Concepts/scenarios

“Dear John” letters 

Going back to a front line after a different assignment 

Paratroopers

Hate former commander/trainer

Getting shot in the ass

They love the motorbikes, envy the other troopers who get to be on them 

Sargents/commanders/captians are like teachers

Mud

Eating food they found in nearby house

Sabacc symbols on side of helmet

Wildflower fields being rolled over by tanks

A burning, flower/vine covered gazebo

Cap or ‘mander or sarge as a nickname

Barracks culture

Curfews

troopers coming back late and having to sneak into their bunks

Trying to make the commanding officers forget about lights off

Lights off/no taking policy being enforced irregularly

That one person who just won’t shut up at 3am

Group debriefing before bed

Sneaking food and drinks in (especially if there is a no tolerance policy)

shore leave being used to bring back contraband

Having lists of requests for food items

Trading and owing food/drinks

Reluctantly sharing supplies

Some commanders turn a blind eye to sneaking outside food in, some ignore it in exchange for goods, others report it immediately

Waking up late

Officers get semi-private quarters 

Messy bunks vs clean bunks

Using blaring music to wake up others

Bathroom lines!

Scheduled showers and break times

Chore sheets

Weekly job rotations

Changing barracks/not staying in the same room as your squad members is common

[veradragonjedi]

Gooooooood morning folks!

BBB CH 26 IS OUT!

^ there's the link :)

Hello readers! I have returned. I apologise for my absence, but moreso for the lack of an interesting tale! See, there was no writer's curse; I am not plagued, nor am I dying! But exams came before mental health, and mental health was already coming before BBB.

That being said, the next FIVE CHAPTERS are already written, meaning that they should be (fingers crossed 🤞) coming out in a more regular schedule!

And, that's not even to mention that — after these chapters — aaaaall our waiting will pay off. That's right, readers! An end is in sight (or, at least, an end to the denial.)

That's not to say that it will be smooth sailing from here, but it is to say THANK YOU for being so patient

@airlocksandaviaries @positivityjediprince @surfing-on-a-soundwave @materassassino @vanishedangels @idkbishsss @jspookywolf @pebblish @thechaoticfanartist @doublechocolate @insertmeaningfulusername @funkyphonophorae @proftree @bison-appreciation-club @justanothercatastrophe @purple-goo-writes @iamscoby (tagging you just cos it's been a huuge while omg)

(tell me if you'd like to be added or removed!)

Tags and other shizz under the cut!

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: The Mandalorian (TV)

Relationships: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin & Cara Dune & Boba Fett & Fennec Shand, Luke Skywalker & Han Solo, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker & Han Solo

Characters:

Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin, Grogu, Leia Organa, Han Solo, Boba Fett, Fennec Shand, Cobb Vanth, Cara Dune, R2-D2, Ahsoka Tano, Ben Solo

Additional Tags:

Human/Vampire Relationship, Jedi Master Luke Skywalker, Luke Skywalker Needs A Hug, Good Parent Din Djarin, Soft Din Djarin, Alternate Ending, Grogu | Baby Yoda Ships Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Luke trains Din with the Darksaber, Vampire Luke, Post-The Mandalorian (TV) Season/Series 02, R2-D2 hates Din Djarin, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Whump, Mutual Pining, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Blood and Injury, Blood Drinking, Squick, Canon-Typical Violence, violence in general, Falling In Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Suicide Attempt, Friends To Lovers, Hurt No Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, BAMF Luke Skywalker, Only like half the time though, The other half is, Sad Luke Skywalker, Luke Skywalker has PTSD, Luke Skywalker Has ADHD, Autistic Din Djarin, Asexual Din Djarin, Asexual Luke Skywalker, Well theyre both aspec- itll be clearer in the future i swear (Din is demi Luke is grey), Touch-Starved Luke Skywalker, WHOOOOOO, Co-parents To Lovers

Language: English

Words: 138,419 Chapters:26/?

[carry-on-big-bang]

COBB 2025 Sign-ups are open!

Artist Sign up form right here!

Writer Sign-Up Form right here!

Just a reminder of the FAQ and rules if you are unfamiliar with this event before signing up! And here is the schedule.

[tailschannel]

Here's a complete recap of everything featured in this year's Sonic Central presentation

New collaborations with LEGO, an upcoming Sonic Frontiers DLC update, and a first look at Part 2 of Sonic Prime were among the major highlights in this year's Sonic Central presentation.

Here's everything you need to know.

Sonic Frontiers

Details on the second major content update for Sonic Frontiers was revealed in the Sonic Central. Titled "Sonic's Birthday Bash", it's scheduled for a release on 23 June 2023.

Sonic's Birthday: Celebrate Sonic's birthday in Sonic Frontiers with a new birthday theme, including a festive HUD, environment objects, a new birthday skin, and more!

Open Zone Challenges: Explore the Open Zone with all new challanges scattered throughout.

Spindash: The iconic Sonic move makes a return in Sonic Frontiers!

New Kocos: Some Kocos seem to dawn new outfits and some do seem a bit bigger than usual.

New Game Plus.

Sonic Superstars

A new teaser was shown promoting the new Sonic Superstars and LEGO collaboration, featuring LEGO Eggman as a pre-order bonus.

Following the presentation, SEGA dropped new renders and descriptions for all the characters featured in the upcoming game.

Trip: Not much is known yet about Trip, the mysterious girl first encountered by Fang on the Northstar Islands. While a bit clumsy, Trip is heavily armored and has been enlisted by Fang and Dr. Eggman to protect and guide them around the wonders of this uncharted region.

Fang the Hunter (formerly Fang the Sniper): Fang is a springy jerboa that is light on his feet and is always looking for the next big score. A bounty hunter by trade, Fang the Hunter has been known by many different names over the years, likely due to his “WANTED” status with the authorities. Always trying to stay one step ahead, he’s constantly modifying and upgrading his primary mode of transportation, the Marvelous Queen.

You can check out the rest of the descriptions for Sonic, Amy, Tails, Knuckles and Eggman here.

The official Sonic the Hedgehog YouTube channel also uploaded a new 3-minute video featuring Superstars producer Naoto Ohshima and Sonic Studio creative officer Takashi Iizuka.

They "talk in-depth about Superstars, including inspirations, challenges, and what it's like to create a new character."

Sonic Symphony World Tour

Here are the official tour dates for the Sonic Symphony from 2023 to 2024:

Sept 16, 2023 - London, Barbican Hall

Sept 22, 2023 - Paris, Le Grand Rex

Sept 30, 2023 - Los Angeles, Dolby Theatre

Oct 14-15, 2023 - São Paulo, Brasil Game Show

Oct 21, 2023 - Boston, Emerson Colonial Theatre

Oct 28, 2023 - Chicago, Auditorium Theatre

Nov 17, 2023 - Düsseldorf, Mitsubishi Electric Halle

Dec 15, 2023 - San Antonio, Majestic Theatre

Dec 29, 2023 - Atlanta, Cobb Energy P.A.C.

Jan 05, 2024 - Seattle, Paramount Theatre

Jan 06, 2024 - San Francisco, Davies Symphony Hall

Jan 20, 2024 - Washington DC, Warner Theater

Jan 27, 2024 - Kansas City, Kansas City Music Hall

Feb 11, 2024 - Tokyo, LINE CUBE SHIBUYA

Feb 17, 2024 - Toronto, Meridian Hall

Mar 24, 2024 - Montreal, Wilfrid-Pelletier Theater

Mar 29, 2024 - Portland, Schnitzer Auditorium

For more information such as ticket pricing and availability, check out the above links.

Sonic Prime

A new extended clip of the upcoming second content drop of Sonic Prime was previewed. It's scheduled to make its debut on Netflix in 13 July.

With the help of his ragtag group of Shatterverse allies, Sonic battles the Chaos Council for control of the powerful Paradox Prism, one Shard at a time.

Sonic Dash and Speed Battle

A new Classic Super Sonic skin will be joining SEGA HARDlight's flagship titles Speed Battle and Dash soon.

Other things of note, as reported last week:

To coincide with the release of the 2nd season of Sonic Prime, characters from Prime will be playable in Dash, including Boscage Sonic, Rusty Rose, and Tails Nine.

Alongside the Prime characters, Super Silver and an all new Dragon Hunter Lancelot will make their debut in Dash and Speed Battle later this month.

San Diego Comic-Con 2023

With Comic-Con coming this summer, a new pop-up restaurant featuring the blue blur will open near the show floor.

More details will be announced in the weeks ahead.

Merchandise

New Death Egg Set from Jakks Pacific: Based on the Sonic 4 Episode 2 final boss, fight The Egg Heart in the new Death Egg set.

Streetwear brand Hypland announced their collaboration with Sonic the Hedgehog: The limited edition collection features an assortment of graphic tees and hoodies featuring Sonic and his friends meshed into contemporary streetwear designs.

S-Fire Sonic Statue: Pre-order the new Sonic & Shadow statue today with augmented reality compatibility.

Sonic has officially announced a collaboration with the popular shoe brand Crocs. As reported back in late May: it's available in adult and kids sizes, for $49.99 USD and $44.99 USD respectively. Besides the shoes themselves, Crocs will be offering Jibbitz charms. They will be coming in a pack of 5 with Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, Amy, and Shadow, offered at $19.99 USD.

Other things of note: a Sonic-themed Playmate cooler from Igloo, a themed guitar from ESP Guitars, and Sonic and Shadow Cable Guy figures.

Sonic Origins Plus

With Origins Plus out, SEGA released a new launch trailer.

With more content than ever before, and a new premium physical version, Sonic Origins Plus is the definitive way to play 16 classic Sonic games in one timeless collection.

LEGO

SEGA officially previewed the Death Egg Robot set, now scheduled for a release in August.

As reported via a leak earlier this month, it contains a Sonic mini figure accompanied with his speed sphere mechanism and the launcher to it; and the Death Egg Robot piloted by Eggman, and Cubot.

Samba de Amigo: Party Central

As reported, the upcoming Samba De Amigo: Party Central will be featuring the world's famous hedgehog as a guest character.

The game will feature two iconic Sonic tunes, Escape From the City and Fist Bump, alongside the City Escape stage itself.

IDW Sonic the Hedgehog

Today's Central presentation made a brief mention of IDW Publishing's upcoming one-shot issue for the Sonic the Hedgehog comic book series: Amy Rose's 30th Anniversary.

You can read more details in our report from earlier today.

Sonic Speed Simulator

Despite the developer's controversies, the officially-licenced Speed Simulator got a mention in the Central presentation.

Users can celebrate Sonic's birthday in style with the new Tuxedo Classic Sonic skin, out now.

Lastly...

TailsTube got a shoutout, and voice actor Mike Pollock dropped some fire bars in the LEGO collaboration video.

...and that's all! For news and updates anytime, be sure to follow @TailsChannel where you are on social media.

(Files contributed by the Tails' Channel Newsfeed.)

[handspunyarns]

You Were Marked: Day Twenty-One.

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C     

word count: 9.9K  

chapter summary:  Marathel explains it all.  

author's note: This is the chapter where Marathel finally tells the whole story of her upbringing in the Hold, as well as what she learned about herself from the Reconstructionists. This chapter is very dark, full of descriptions of triggering events, as well as deliberate and liberal use of the c-word. The warnings are under the cut. If you have been keeping up with this story, you should have a feel for where this chapter is going to go. If you find warnings potentially triggering, please don’t continue. 

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. ***   

warnings:  angst, violence to women, violence to animals, aftermath of ritual abuse, aftermath of ritual sexual abuse, aftermath of torture, mental illness, degradation of women, rape, rape aftermath, non-con sexual situations, sexual situations, suicide ideation, suicide attempt aftermath, miscarriage by violence, allusion to drug use, description of ritual sexual abuse, description of child sexual abuse, past child abuse, sexual abuse by children, deep misogynistic entrenchment, mention of incest and infertility, mention of medical issues, English and Mando’a cursing  

You Were Marked: Masterlist

You Were Marked: <- Previous Chapter

Din sat in the cockpit of the Crest, listening to the engines scream their way through hyperspace. Up until three weeks ago, he believed he had enjoyed a relative sameness to his days.  Any other bounty trip, he would be lounging in his seat, in the galley drinking caf, taking a nap, preparing for the hunt.  The addition of Grogu changed these options very little; Din now had a companion for these activities — although Din drew the line at giving Grogu caf.  The kid had once sneaked half a cup while Din was taking a leak and the boy practically vibrated for the next three hours. 

Now, Din was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees as he watched the striations of hyperspace, willing his ship to move faster.  What is Marathel thinking? Going back to Unmanarall?   She’d better get that thought out of her head, because there is no way I’m going to let that happen!  I’m just now getting used to the concept of her being a part of my life!  Of Grogu’s life!  I didn’t get my head smashed in, nearly burn out my ship’s engines, break my feet, and get smacked with a … fucking giant dildo just for her to go running back to that … pit of degradation!  To those men, who did their best to destroy her! 

Nope, not gonna happen. 

Earlier, Din had received a message from Cobb, who let him know that the women were due in Mos Eisley a few hours after Din and Grogu were scheduled to get back to Mos Espa.  Din offered to get them from the spaceport, but Cobb said that he had it under control.  Din then said he and Grogu would run over to Mos Eisley on a speeder, meet them there, be there for when Marathel returned, but Cobb suggested that Din and Grogu just wait for them at the palace.  Din, irritated, then sent Boba a string of messages, essentially to bitch that Cobb was being an asshole, telling him that Cobb didn’t have the right to tell him what to do, nor should Cobb do what he perceived as keeping Marathel away from him, especially since he suspected Cobb had been a bit fresh with Marathel.  Boba sent a single response: 

BF: Chill the fuck out Din 

Boba must have forwarded Fennec the string of messages, for she had sent Din a new holo of Marathel, sitting on the padded bench, her feet up, her lap covered with a blanket that Din had not seen before.  She was in profile as she stared out the large window of the carriage, gazing at the same striations of hyperspace as he.  Her face was calm, but hard, as if she were wearing invisible armor.  Din focused on Marathel’s eyes, which were steadfast, almost stern, like she had made a definitive decision — and he was sure she intended to give him the brush-off for reasons he did not know or understand.   

Mesh’la, he thought.  Don’t make me let you go.  Just look at me and tell me what has hardened your heart. 

Marathel had finally uncurled herself from her protective ball, and was lounging on the padded bench, her new-to-her blanket over her lap.  The light show outside the window was fascinating to her.  This was the first time she was cognizant of her traveling through space, a concept that was still so strange.  Her whole life, she had only known the Hold, and now she knew that merely was tiny patch of land on a little ball that was floating in darkness with many balls, little and big, very similar or vastly different from the one she knew.  There is so much that I don’t know, thought Marathel.  At least I know that I know nothing.   

As she continued to gaze out the window, Marathel noticed a dark shape moving within the moving stripes of light.  It was large — it had to be huge — certainly larger than this ship that Marathel was currently sitting in. Whatever it was, it was moving at the same speed as the ship she was on but undulating as it moved.  Occasionally, some part of it pierced the light striations, sending sparks behind it.   

Marathel rolled up to her knees and moved to the window to get a better look.  Fennec, who had been reading the blind copy of Din’s irritated ramblings to Boba, noticed her movement.  She looked up to see Marathel kneeling next to the window, hands on the perspex shield, looking with wonder at the hyperspace lights outside.  Curious, Fennec captured a quick holo of Marathel — she looked quite pretty, with her face full of amazement — and stood to look out the window herself.  

“Can you see it, Fennec?  What is it?” 

“That’s a Purrgil.  A Purrgil Ultra, I would guess, by its size.” 

Marathel scoffed.  “Yes, of course, a Purrgil.  I should have known.  But what is it?” 

Fennec chuckled.  “It’s a space whale.” 

“A whale?  I don’t know what that is.” 

Fennec, amused, replied, “No whales on your planet?” 

“Not that I’m aware of.” 

“You have fish, though, right?” 

“Fish, yes, but nothing that large.” 

“Well, most whales are mammals, not fish … but anyway, these whales, instead of swimming in water, they follow the slipstreams of hyperspace.  Sometimes they collide with ships, and ships will often shoot at them to get them to leave.” 

“What a terrible thing to do.  I think they are beautiful creatures.” 

“They can be dangerous,” said Fennec with a shrug. 

“She’s not dangerous,” said Marathel.  “She’s only keeping us company.”  Marathel continued to kneel at the window, watching the Purrgil.  Fennec went back to her holopad and her conversation with Boba about what a pain Din was at the moment.  Fennec had just shot off the message Din’s just being a lovesick jackwagon, and I recall voicing my concerns about Cobb and you blew me off when Marathel gasped; the Purrgil had come closer to the ship and appeared to be looking back at Marathel with her enormous eye.   

“Hello,” whispered Marathel.  I see you, and I think you see me.  What a magnificent thing you are!  The Purrgil’s eye was the deepest blue-green of the lagoon below the cliff on Unmanarall, the one she … her thought was interrupted by the piercing whistle of a red laser blast hitting the giant Purrgil.  The Purrgil shrieked, the sound reverberating into the ship, rattling the window and vibrating through Marathel’s soul.  “NO!” screamed Marathel, beating her hands on the window.  “She wasn’t hurting anyone!”  Marathel felt Fennec’s hands on her shoulders, pulling her away from the perspex.  The Purrgil was hit with more laser blasts, and Marathel could feel the vibrations of the Purrgil wailing.  Marathel began to wail as well.  “WHY?  Why are they hurting her? Why do they always have to hurt everything?”  Marathel crumpled down to the floor and sobbed into her hands.  “It never stops!  It never changes!  They always hurt us, they only ever want to kill us, and it NEVER STOPS!” 

The door of the carriage slid open, and a conductor entered, saying, “Ladies!  You’re disturbing the other passengers!” 

Fennec stood and faced the conductor.  “I’m trying — but she’s not well!”  Marathel continued to sob.  “Give her some time, she will calm down … she was a torture victim!  She’s just upset!” 

The conductor backed up and called into his wrist communicator: “send the medi-droid to suite X-1138 immediately.”  Fennec stepped forward, and the conductor put his hands up.  “You brought an unstable woman aboard?  She will need to be tranquilized for the remainder of the journey.” 

Fennec turned back to Marathel, saying, “Marathel, please, you need to quiet down, you need to calm yourself, or they’re going to tranq you.” 

“I don’t want to be CALM!  I don’t want to be STILL!   I don’t want to be quiet anymore!  I want to be angry!  Why am I not allowed to be ANGRY?” 

Fennec took Marathel’s hands.  “You can be angry all you want, but what you’re doing isn’t going to help you or the Purrgil.”  Fennec put her hands on Marathel’s shoulders, giving her a little shake and hissing, “You’re drawing too much attention.  Now get up off the floor.” 

A medical droid appeared in the doorway, and Marathel looked at it in panic before she shut her eyes and worked to calm her breathing.  Fennec helped Marathel back to the padded bench, giving her back the blanket, and sat next to her, taking Marathel’s hand, which was knotted into a fist.  The conductor grunted and tapped a report into his holopad.  After a short time, the conductor snapped, “Arm,” holding out his hand.  Marathel gave the conductor a baleful look but dutifully lifted her arm.  The conductor scanned the chip.    “Refugee from Jakuu,” muttered the conductor.   

“Yes,” replied Marathel. 

“Name?” 

“Marathel ap Unmapeth.” 

The conductor looked at Marathel.  “From Jakuu?  With a name like that?  Only ever heard a surname of that sort from Lew’el before.”  The conductor harrumphed and went back to tapping on the holopad.  “Spice addict?” 

“No,” snapped Fennec.   “A … slave, a torture victim, like I said.  Badly injured and still recovering.”   

The conductor scowled.  “A belligerent and combative patient still requires tranquilizers and a medical permit.” 

Fennec took a deep breath, attempting to control herself before she began whaling on this jerk’s ass.  “She had never seen a Purrgil, and was upset when the ship began firing on it.  She has been greatly traumatized recently.  Have some damn compassion.” 

The conductor snorted.  “I need to get back to First Class.  Keep her quiet,” he snapped as he and the medi-droid left the cabin, shutting the door behind them.   

Fennec grumbled under her breath.  That went well.  And as much as she’d just like to slap the woman and tell her to get it the fuck together, Fennec knew she couldn’t — not just because Marathel had had enough of that kind of treatment, but because Din would lose his everloving shit. Forget a Life Day rom-com holovid, these two are a walking Naboo tragic opera, for kriffing out loud. Fennec also believed that Marathel was working towards the Death Star explosion of all meltdowns soon, and she did not want to be within range of that.   

Marathel put her face in her hands. “I’m sorry, Fennec, you’re right, I’m behaving … foolishly.” She roughly swiped her tears away.  “I’ll be quiet from now on.” She leaned back and looked out the window again.  “She’s gone.  I hope she wasn’t badly hurt.  Or killed.” 

Fennec took Marathel’s hand again and gently squeezed it.  “Purrgils are tough.  They have to be, to live out there.  One that size could have destroyed this whole ship, even accidentally.” 

Marathel sniffed.  “Well, maybe this ship shouldn’t be where they are.  Even I know enough to stay out of the water where the Great Godynferth is.”  Marathel looked thoughtful.  “I keep forgetting to tell Grogu that story.” 

“Will I get to hear it?”  Fennec asked with a chuckle.  “Will Din get to hear it?” 

“I don’t believe he’ll want to, after he hears what I must tell him.” 

“Marathel … I think you really underestimate Din Djarin.” 

Marathel sighed.  No, Fennec, I don’t think I do.  Din Djarin is still a man, and men don’t like to hear certain things.  Certain truths.  She continued to hold Fennec’s hand, and both women watched the hyperspace go by.   

It was several hours later when the transport touched down at Mos Eisley spaceport.  Marathel and Fennec passed through customs easily, as they had only a small bag for luggage, and they both had chips.  The spaceport was large and noisy, making Marathel nervous, so she stuck close to Fennec.  Fennec saw Cobb waiting on the other side of the security barrier and waved.  He waved back, a single flick of his hand, and waited for the women to clear security, gazing at Marathel. 

She looks so beautiful, and still so sad.  They may have healed her wounds, but her heart looks irreparably broken, thought Cobb, and he sighed.  And Din, of course, thinks he needs to fix her.  And if what I think is true … then … I just hope he’s still willing to try.  

The women finally made it out of security after a final scan of their chips.  Marathel was rubbing her arm where the chip was, and apparently had been doing so for some time, as her arm was red, and Fennec pulled her hand away.  Cobb came forward, intending to pull Marathel into a hug, but she deftly sidestepped him.  Instead, Cobb took the bag she was wearing over her shoulder, and he took hold of her hand so she could not rub her arm any longer.  Marathel looked up at Cobb, thinking about protesting, but deciding not to bother. 

“You look a lot better, honey.  Din will be very happy to see you.”  Marathel shrugged, and Cobb put his other arm around her, leading both of them out of the spaceport to a speeder parked nearby.   

“I’m so tired,” said Marathel.  “Is it far to the palace?” 

“A couple – three hours, unfortunately.  But you can curl up in the back and take a nap, if you like.  Riding shotgun, Fennec?” 

Fennec yawned.  “If I have to.  I hope you don’t want company, Cobb.  I’ll probably doze off myself.” 

“If I’m tired, you must be exhausted, Fennec,” mused Marathel.  “Not only have you had to run from station to planet and back again, but you’ve also had to put up with me -- and my bad moods -- this whole time.   All I’ve had to do was just sit there.” 

Fennec, surprised to hear some light-heartedness coming from Marathel, replied, “Well, that’s as maybe, but I didn’t get genetically modified over the past couple of days.”  She squeezed Marathel’s free hand.  “Are you ready?”  Marathel looked at Fennec, and in Fennec’s eyes she could see the unasked question: are you ready to face Din? 

Marathel nodded, and let Cobb help her into the back of the speeder.  Once they were on their way, Marathel was unable to keep her eyes open, so she wrapped herself in her blanket, lay down on the bench seat, and fell asleep. 

Din and Grogu had landed back at the palace and were waiting.  Grogu was doing a much better job of being patient.  He had wrangled a second dinner out of Silnima, and had eaten so slow Din wondered briefly if the boy were sick again.  Din kept looking into the kitchen corridor, listening for any commotion that seemed like someone was returning to the palace. Each time, Grogu would coo or bleat, any kind of noise that would draw Din’s attention back to him.  Eventually, Din twigged to what the boy was doing, and he was grateful.  “How’d you get so smart, little guy?”  He dipped his head to press his forehead to Grogu’s.   

Boba poked his head into the kitchen.  “There you are.  They just hit Mos Epsa,” he said, and Din leapt to his feet, snatching Grogu off the table, who squawked angrily at his food being left behind.  Din followed Boba down the maze of corridors, silently seething at what he perceived as Boba’s deliberate slowness.  By the time they made it to the landing tunnel, Cobb had just brought the speeder in. Din could see Cobb, and Fennec beside him, but Marathel was nowhere to be seen.  Din pushed past Boba, panicking, wondering where she was. He came up alongside the speeder and saw what could only be Marathel: a familiar-looking rounded lump under a blanket, her long hair flowing out and hanging down on the floorboards.  He reached over and gently shook her by the ankle, whispering, “Marathel?  Mesh’la?” 

Cobb shouted, “Wake up, Mar’, we’re at Grandpa’s!” which sent Fennec — who was overtired and punchy — into peals of laughter, and Marathel’s head popped up from under the blanket.   

Grogu jumped out of Din’s arms and landed on Marathel’s legs. Marathel grunted, still squinting against the light in the tunnel, looking so soft and sleep-warm Din thought momentarily of crawling under the blanket to cuddle her.  She blinked at Grogu, finally realizing he was there, and joy spread across her face.  “My little Godynferth!” she cried, pulling him against her in a tight hug.  “My love, my sweet,” Marathel continued to coo at the boy while he shouted Mama over and over. 

Fennec and Cobb shared an exasperated look before they climbed out of the speeder.  Boba was already there to assist Fennec, and he gave her a quick surreptitious hug before taking Marathel’s bag and asking, “Marathel?  Do you need help?” 

Din grunted and reached over the side of the speeder, saying, “Let me take Grogu…” 

Marathel shook her head.  “I’ve got him, just help me up, please,” she said, reaching out with her hand.   

Din took her hand in his, feeling her splinted fingers, wrapped in metal coils through the leather of his glove. Oh, mesh’la, you’re here, you’re finally here.  “You look much better, ma’mwsh ha’laa.  So much stronger.”  He gently pulled her up to a standing position, then wrapped his free arm around her to lift her out of the speeder.  She allowed his arm to remain around her waist as they followed the others back into the palace.  Grogu continued to clutch at her, softly saying Mama. Marathel smiled sadly and stroked his fuzzy head.  Putting his hand over hers on Grogu’s back, Din asked, “Are you feeling all right?  Are you tired?” 

Marathel nodded.  “I am tired, but also … it’s hard to say.  Twitchy? Jumpy?” 

“I know the feeling.  Exhausted, but unable to relax.”  He squeezed her hand.  “Let’s get you back to your room,” he said, inwardly grimacing, hoping she wouldn’t misunderstand.  “... So you can go back to sleep,” he added. 

“No, I …” Marathel stopped walking.  She turned and looked straight into Din’s visor.  “We need to speak to each other, sooner than later. There are things I must tell you.” 

Din lifted his hand to cup her cheek.  “Can it not wait until you’ve rested?  You’ve been through so much the past few days.”  He could finally see her face fully, straight-on, not hidden by hair.  She looked exhausted; her eyes puffy.  The gash down her face still looked very red and angry, and she appeared to have abraded skin near her temples, possibly burn-marks from sensors.  Her lips were dry.  He wanted to kiss her so much, scoop her up in his arms, lay her down on a soft bed and hold her until she fell asleep. 

“Perhaps, but … I don’t feel I can rest until I have said what I need to say.”  Marathel looked down at Grogu, who was snuggled into her bosom and falling asleep.  “We should put him to bed, and then I need a few minutes to collect my thoughts.”  Please let me put Grogu to bed, Bounty Hunter, this may be my last opportunity to do so. 

Din closed his eyes, dreading whatever she was going to tell him, but he nodded.  “Okay,” he said quietly.  But when she made a move to begin walking again, he stopped her, holding her close, pressing his forehead to hers.  “What I said, what I told you, before you left … I meant it.  I love you, Marathel.  I love you.” 

Marathel pulled back, and looked sadly into his visor, putting her hand on his helmet where she thought his mouth would be.  “I believe you.”  She sighed, and a fat tear rolled down her cheek. “I believe you think that.”  Marathel turned, slipping out of his grasp, and continued down the corridor.  Din remained a step behind her as they walked by the kitchen, where they could hear Silnima, Cobb, Fennec, and Boba talking in low voices.   

For no reason at all, Marathel chose that very moment to stop walking and say to Din, “I don’t know where your room is.”  It was an odd moment for Din, who felt the eyes of not only Marathel but her four new champions who were about to watch him leading her to his room, even though she was carrying Grogu as a mother would her child.  Because that is who she is, thought Din, as he gently placed his hand on her lower back again, wordlessly leading her further down the corridor.  The four people in the kitchen continued their chat. 

Din led Marathel into his room, a room that was nearly identical to hers.  She sat on the bed, rolling Grogu from her arms, who giggled.  “My sweet boy, I missed you so.”  Marathel looked up at Din.  “May I sing to him?  The proper part of the only song?”  Din nodded, silent, waiting.  Marathel began humming the tune Din now knew so well.  She settled Grogu in the bed.  Stroking the child’s ears, she sang: 

“Anar’mae'n amser, ch’si gysgu,  Gorffwys nawr unwff bychsgu,  Buth Frith yn mynd aro’lr ffwrs’wych,  Llonyddwch, llonyddwch, a’gor llyrs’wych.” 

“For your benefit, little one – and for your father as well – what I said was ...  It is time to sleep, little one, it is time to rest – Frith will watch over you while you sleep, be still, be still, be quiet until morning.”  Smiling at the sleeping boy, Marathel carefully got up and waited while Din recited his traditional Mando’a words.  When he was finished, Marathel leaned over to Grogu’s ear and whispered, “Rwy'n di’rugar.” 

As she stood, Din suddenly captured her in his arms, pulling her close, his forehead to hers, her body fully against his.  They stood this way in the darkened room for some time.  “Say that to me.  Please,” he whispered. 

Marathel, her forehead still pressed against his, shook her head.  “I can’t.  Not to you.”   

“Why not?” 

“Because you are not a baby.  Those words are only said to babies.  Not to men.” 

“You did before.”  His hand slid down her back, coming to a rest just above the swell of her backside.  “Just not in your Oldtalk.” 

“I thought … that was the last time I would speak to you.” 

Din’s other hand went into her hair, tangling his fingers in it, caressing her skull. He felt anger bubbling. “Did you lie about that?” Great Frith, he was getting hard in his pants, and she knew it, and she gasped, startled.   Haar’chak, no, please don’t start acting out one of your dreams, Djarin! 

Marathel took a step back, Din letting go of her immediately.  “Please, just give me a few minutes.  I’ll be in my room.”  She stepped out and headed back towards the kitchen.   

Din felt great shame at expressing lust for her when she had so recently been abused.   

Marathel felt horrified that she had felt a response within her, she, who was a monster undeserving of such a feeling. 

Marathel fetched herself a mug of tea, and she received a warm welcome back from Silnima.  Now that her back was properly healing, she felt more comfortable being hugged by the Headwoman.  The others were still in the kitchen, and they had gone silent when Marathel had entered.  Boba and Fennec looked at each other, while Cobb considered her with a face that was somehow both sad and hopeful.  Marathel said her goodnights, and went off to her room, Boba and Fennec right behind her, but they continued down the corridor and out of sight. 

It was a good quarter-hour before Cobb heard Din’s footsteps coming towards them.  He was walking with purpose, but not rushing.  He looked momentarily into the kitchen as he passed it, catching Cobb’s worried look.  What does he know? wondered Din. 

Coming to her opened door, Din tapped on it, quietly calling, “Marathel?” 

“Come in,” replied Marathel.  Din entered and began to close the door.  “No, please, leave the door open.” 

Din straightened. He would have thought that she’d want privacy for this conversation.  He wondered if she didn’t feel safe, alone with him.  The room was only lit by the bedside lamp, which cast a dim glow.  Marathel had the shutters open, and she was sitting on the deep windowsill, looking out at the night sky, about four feet from the floor of the room, but about ten feet to the hard-packed ground of the courtyard below.   

“Marathel, I don’t like you sitting up there.” 

“Don’t worry.  I don’t plan to jump.  Besides, it’s not high enough.  I’d only cripple myself and become a burden after all.” 

Din found himself quite unable to respond to that.  “Should I sit?” 

Marathel looked at him.  “I would.”  Din pulled the chair into her line of sight.  He sat, placed his hands on his thighs, and waited. Marathel took a deep breath, and said, “I have been feeling quite guilty, these days since I awoke on this planet.  Guilty of lying to you, or at the very least omitting knowledge that I refused to share with you.  My guilt is compounded by my ignorance.  I learned a great many things about myself wherever I was, with the Reconstructionists. Things I never heard of before, things I never considered. Please … just listen to me.  Let me say what I must. 

“When I was born, the Bishop was filled with joy, I was told.  My skin was the palest of white, my eyes the brightest and lightest blue, my body already long and tall.  As I grew, my hair turned silver and my eyes darkened to match.  My skin remained clear, free of any marks or dark spots to mar its perfection, and I was tall and straight like a gorugelly tree, the perfection that the Bishop was seeking to be his Whyn, to bring the next ap Bishops to the Hold.  I was the exalted and presumed Bishop’s Whyn, his Whyn and only his.” 

Marathel took a breath and closed her eyes, drawing strength to finally answer Din’s most-asked question of her.  “The word Whyn means cunt.  A Whyn is a cunt, and that’s all.  The whole point of a Whyn is to be fucked and impregnated.   The cunt is nothing but a cum vessel, to be filled in all her holes with cum.  Breed her with the next generation of cunts.  And the generations come quickly when the cunt is getting fucked every single day.  Maybe a break for your cycle, but more than likely the cunt would be beaten for not catching pregnant, the stupid whore.”  Marathel laughed derisively, harshly.  Din felt his heart drop, wanting to stop her, tell her he’d heard enough.  But he hadn’t, not by a long shot.  Dank ferrik, he needed to hear it all. 

“Now, a Diwhyn is an old cunt.  Useless anymore for breeding, too dried out to fuck.  Good for only cleaning and cooking and raising the new cunts.  Getting beaten for being old and useless.  Getting hit by the little boys because that’s all they learn, how to hit and how to fuck and how to kick at the girl trying to tie their shoes.”  Marathel sobbed for a moment.  Then, crying, she said, “The boys — the ones who haven’t changed yet — try fucking the little girls because they’re little and they won’t fight back, and they need to overpower anybody because they’re male and that’s what males do, and they get to do whatever they want.”  Marathel continued to cry.  Din stood, handing her a clean cloth from his pocket, and then sitting back down, his hands clenching into fists.  He wanted to look anywhere but back at her, but she continued to hold his gaze. 

Marathel wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and was quiet for a few minutes before she could continue.  “Then there’s me.  A Belwhyn.  You already know the end part is cunt, so what kind of cunt is a Belwhyn?  It’s shameful, it’s a punishment to be made one, so what in the name of Frith is such a terrible deed that what was done to me is an appropriate response?  A Belwhyn is a … whore cunt.  A whore, isn’t that funny?”  Marathel laughed again.  “Here we are, cunts getting fucked in every way imaginable, but what’s important is whose cock is fucking that cunt.  And unfortunately for me, you were the wrong … never mind that I forced myself on you.”  Marathel swallowed and looked directly into his visor.  Whispering, she said, “I’m so sorry I did that to you. You were the first man who has ever been kind to me, and I do that to you.  And then, I mistake your kindness for affection on top of it.”  Marathel sighed.  “Bigger fool me. 

“You were right, it’s a brand on my leg.  It’s my earliest memory, that hot metal on my inner thigh.  I was fully naked, that Bishop drooling over me, a tiny little girl, being reprehensibly burned in a place that anyone who tried to fuck me would see.   The next thing I remember was kneeling on a cushion with the Bishop’s cock down my throat.  I was choking because I was still so little, I didn’t know how to suck a cock yet, and I didn’t know about be still yet either.” 

Please, Maker, no. Not as a little girl.  Not as her first memory. Din closed his eyes, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat. 

“Be still, be still,” Marathel said with a long sigh.  “It’s so useful to be still when a cock is in your mouth or up your ass, because then your mind stops thinking and time passes quickly.  The Diwhyns teach be still, be pliant, don’t fight, don’t struggle, the pain will pass, the bleeding will stop, that endless only song, over and over and over.  I only have to hear the words be still and my mind stops spinning.  I still say it to myself!  Be still, be still, you stupid woman!” 

Marathel was quiet for a few moments, and Din was hoping she was done speaking about her first time being brutalized by the Bishop.  But then she continued, “Anyway, I was crying with the Bishop’s cock in my mouth and I couldn’t breathe with my runny nose, and I couldn’t open my mouth any wider than I already had, because I was still a little girl, remember.  I pulled my head back to breathe and the Bishop came on my face, and then I was hit because I pulled away and I didn’t let him come in my mouth, that I didn’t swallow the first cum of my intended cock like a good girl should.  Olba had been holding me upright so the Bishop could fuck my little-girl face, and she began crying too, crying so much that she was beaten, and a baby was beaten right out of her.  It was almost a full baby too, I could see that it was a boy, they made me watch her lose that baby as punishment for her crying over me, a little not-yet-cunt.  And then they beat her harder because she’d lost a boy.”   

Marathel closed her eyes, and her voice filled with disgust.  “I was so happy the baby died, because it was a boy baby, and the boy babies grew up to be little boys that kick you when you tie their shoes and older boys that try to fuck the little girls — even though they really can’t physically do that because they haven’t changed yet — and then boys become Cyiloggs, and …” Marathel frowned.  “It’s odd … there’s not really a word in Newtalk for a Cyilogg.  In Oldtalk it literally means cock.  A male chook.  When the boys get old enough to be able to fuck, that’s what they get called.  It probably started as a joke and became proper, I don’t know.  It’s about as funny as whore cunt.” 

Stop it, please stop it, please stop talking, Din cried out in his head.  You can tell me to be still through this bite mark, I should be able to tell you as well, please, mesh’la, please be still. 

Marathel, however, carried on speaking like a bartender rattling off drink specials.  She took a sip of her tea.  “Of course, a Cyilogg can’t just fuck anybody.  The Cyiloggs are supposed to learn to fuck by using the Diwhyns.  They can’t have babies anymore, so it’s safe.   The Brwddyrs, on the other hand, they can fuck the Whyns, for the most part of.  It’s okay for them, they are breeders, that’s what Brwddyrs means.  They are chosen because they are close enough to the ideal that a baby would be acceptable. 

“Me, of course, my cunt was supposed to be fucked by the Bishop and the Bishop only.  He had been fucking my face, my hands, my ass — not too often there, though, he didn’t want to wear my ass out, he said — ever since he branded me, calling me his good girl, his perfect girl, his sweet girl.  Little girl, good girl, sweet girl.  Over and over and over and over.  My cunt was sacred, not even the Bishop would fuck it yet.  Wasn’t proper.  Not until I was bleeding regularly, which ... never actually happened.” 

Din, unable to look at her any longer, stared at his knees and waited for her to continue.   

“My cycles were never right, or regular, and they’d never be on schedule.  Most of us had our cycles at the same time.  But me, I’d bleed horribly one moon cycle, and then not again for many moon cycles.  I’d practically hemorrhage every single cycle I had, passing so many blood clots.  I’d bleed until I’d pass out in the kitchen.  Until I’d faint with the Bishop’s cock in my mouth.  That happened once.  He was fucking my face while I was on my cycle, and I fainted dead away and bit him in the process.  I was beaten good and proper for that, as you can imagine.  Many jars of that smelly unguent you hate so much were used on all my bruises in my lifetime.” 

Marathel went silent for a while.  Din looked up at her; she had pulled up her knees, and she was hugging them with her elbows.  Finally, she said, “The Dahls and their eggs, I can’t quite remember how all that started.  I’ve been hit in the head so many times, I think my brain has been addled.  I remember cleaning the weapons in the Round building and listening to the men talk.  That’s the good thing about be still, you learn how to move but be still at the same time, so they don’t notice you too much.   It’s always best not to be noticed too much.  Cover your head and feet with the blanket, look as shapeless as possible, don’t make eye contact, hide your hands.  If they can’t notice you, then they can’t hurt you. 

“Dahls even have their own version of be still.  The dam barks at her kits if there’s danger.  But I hear it as be still!  Be still! in my head, and my mind slows down, just as it should. Sometimes I’ve been watching the kits run in the meadows and I can see the vytur birds overhead, looking for a moving kit to snatch, and I shout be still! Be still! to the kits, and they can hear me.  I can scream it in my head and the Dahls will stop running, freeze, not move until I release them. “ 

So, I was right, thought Din.  She marked me like a female Dahl marks her mate.  She can tell me to be still.  Am I bound to her, this way?  Is she now trying to let me go? 

“Where was I?  Oh yes, the Dahl eggs.  Somewhere in something called the Records was the story of the Dahls.  Creatures with a certain mind, that would bond with a human willing to listen to them.  The bonding made the Dahl yours forever.  What a wonderful idea, to control not only all the women but creatures as well.  

“The Dahls had been on the other side of the mountain for a long time, but for some reason, they were moving back closer to the Hold.  So, the Cyiloggs started bringing eggs in for hatching.  The Elders were supposed to bond with the hatchlings, but the hatchlings rejected them.  The hatchlings rejected all the men.  But then I suppose a Whyn bonded with a Dahl accidentally.  At first, I’m sure that the Elders were furious beyond belief.  How dare she!  How dare a cunt have control over anything!  But knowing what I know now … I'm guessing that the Elders found themselves delighted at cunts becoming fuck-animals at mating season. 

“But the Dahls … they hated being in the Hold, hated all the men.  The Whyns couldn’t control them.  The Cyiloggs would chain them, and the Dahls would break their own necks to get away, tear each other to pieces, rip the throats out of the Whyns who had bonded with them in desperation to escape. 

“Then I had to come along and hear all the Dahls.  Usually, the cunt only heard the Dahl hatchling she had bonded with, but I could even hear Dahls in the egg.  Why, no one could say.  Maybe it’s in that thing called the Record.  Olba remembered an old Diwhyn who told her as a young child of another woman who could hear all the Dahls.  Olba never told me what happened to her, but it was important enough to Olba to get me out of the Hold, and now I understand why.  I was still changing, not officially ready to fuck, not a real cunt yet.  My cycles weren’t regular, remember, even though I was head and shoulders above the other girls.  If I was in the Hold when the Dahls rose to mate, trying to madly fuck while not a full Whyn, well, that would upset the order of things, wouldn’t it?   I was meant for the Bishop alone, and under the spell of the Dahls, I would not be discerning of whom I fucked.  How dare I do such a thing! 

“But then I guess the Captain and the Duke thought it was wrong for me to be out of the Hold for so long.  Perhaps they wanted to experience the all-hearing all-fucking Dahl-cunt-woman for themselves, I don’t know.  They were the ones who were the most insistent about getting me back into the Hold.”   

Marathel looked at Din and was not surprised that he could no longer look at her.  He probably wants me to stop talking, she thought.  Well, too late now.  You wanted to know, Bounty Hunter, and I want to tell you.  “I wonder how they sent out the message that brought you.  There are things in the Hold that I have never seen — no woman has.  But you came along, and of course you know how that ended.” 

Marathel took a deep breath and rubbed her face with her hands.  “Yes, I knew what was going to happen to me.  I knew from the moment I came back to myself against that post, still with you inside me.  I knew my life was over.  I also knew I couldn’t tell you because you would stop it from happening.  But when you told me about those coins and what their worth could be to you, I had to make sure you got those coins.   I was already ruined because I made you fuck me against that post. I’m nothing.  I’m weak, fat, and stupid.  I didn’t bear the children I was meant to; I had ruined myself for the one man I was supposed to serve as Whyn … even though I hated him and the idea of being touched by him and the things he did to me and the things he did to Olba.  She’d lost the baby boy, and he beat three more babies out of her when she’d try to protect me from whatever he was desiring to do to me at the time.  She was ap Captain, how dare she interfere with an ap Bishop!  Everything I had ever done was wrong for everyone, and I wanted one thing that I could make right. 

“So, I made you take me to the Hold without your weapons. I told you to be still.  Did you hear me, screaming at you to be still inside my head? I thought you might have, because you didn’t move at all.  It worked better than I ever dreamed it could.  I have no idea why that occurred, but then I know next to nothing.  Stupid me. I made sure you got the coins, and I believed you had left. 

“You had told me any affection you had for me was less than your devotion to your Creed.  You’re a man, that’s your right of course, you can say or do anything you please.  I was less than, always had been, that’s the way of things.  My heart was broken because I loved you so much — or at least I thought I did, who am I to know at all what love is?  Children are one thing, but a man?  But I believed you didn’t care for me, which made it all the easier to hand myself over, I suppose.   You got the coins.  I had done something right. 

“After I went into the Hold, I was taken up to the second floor.  That’s where the Platform is.  I had been in there many times to clean, but I had never been on the Platform before, of course, because I wasn’t officially a cunt.  The first thing the Bishop did was carve my face.  I was tied down, and he cut me, saying that I was a whore cunt, and I should have a cunt right on my face, to show everyone what a whore I was, that I wear a cunt as my face.  How dare I betray him; how dare I be a cunt for someone else.  Especially under the spell of the Dahls, where I was the one who demanded to be fucked.  I dared to shove it in the Bishop’s face that I took you. How dare a woman, a cunt, do such a thing.” 

Marathel’s voice grew weak.  “How dare I do that ...” She swallowed and looked directly at Din to deliver her next statement.  

“How dare I do that to my father.” 

Din audibly gasped, his head snapping up to look at Marathel.  She wished she could see his face, to read the utter shock, the disbelief, and the resulting disgust.  “You hadn’t figured that out?  How surprising.  Of course, the Bishop is my father.  One of my sisters was my mother.  I have no idea who, though.  I suppose it doesn’t matter.  Cunts are all pretty much the same, aren’t they?  I pretended Olba was my real mother even though I knew it wasn’t so.  You saw all of us there in the Hold; it isn’t just the colors we wear that separate our houses.  All the Bishops are pale with light or silver hair.  The Captains are dark-complected with black, curly hair.  The Dukes and the Hunters look similar, but the Dukes tend to be blonde-haired and shorter, while the Hunters are taller with brown hair.  I always thought the Hunters were pretty to look at ... tall like trees, with brown hair and brown eyes.”   

Marathel smiled, looking wistful.  “When you told me you had brown eyes, I was so happy.  I do like brown eyes so much.   And then I saw your brown hair when you were puking in the grass.  I could just see the top of your head.  You have lovely hair.” 

Din dropped his head again, face warm, embarrassed by how much of himself he had revealed to her, accidentally or otherwise.  

Marathel rolled her eyes at his reaction and sighed again. “So, not only did I now know that you look more like a Hunter, but then … I was sure you wouldn’t look like a Bishop, no matter what my nightmares told me. 

“Bishops are supposed to fuck only Bishops, Captains are supposed to fuck only Captains, and so on.  Each house must remain pure.  If there is a cross between houses, which happened sometimes, then the mixed-girl-baby is killed, along with the whore cunt.  A boy baby?  They get placed in the house they most resemble, and life goes on. The Brwddyr who had fucked the wrong cunt?  A reprimand, maybe.  A reminder that only the correct cunts have a baby fucked into them.  That’s what Diwhyns are for, remember? 

“And now there’s a whore cunt like me to be made, tied down to the Platform.  If a cunt is going to act like a whore, then by Frith, she will be fucked like one, in every hole she has, over and over.  If she fights, if she screams, that makes it more fun.  If she’s quiet, if she’s still, beat her, bite her, shove something horrible in her holes until she screams again.   With me the Bishop went first, of course, then it became a free-for-all.  Wagers taken to see who would make me bleed from where first, how many times I’d scream, what they could draw on my skin with their knives and their whips, and their cum and piss and shit.  And they made all the children watch.  They always watch when a Belwhyn’s being made.  The boys on one side, the girls on the other.  Teach them all a lesson.  The little boys all got to take a turn on me, too.  Some would pretend like they were fucking me, but mostly they’d just poke me with sharpened sticks. Or kick me. Or bite me. Everywhere.  Little shits with their sharp teeth.  Then they made the little girls clean me off so they could do it all over again, marking the whore cunt as a lesson to the girls: This is what happens to you if you don’t obey.  Be still! Be still!  Don’t react, don’t scream, don’t cry, you be quiet and still and you watch, you future cunts!”  Marathel burst into tears.   

Din pleaded, “Stop, Marathel, for the love of Frith, please, stop ...” 

“NO!  You wanted to know, you need to hear this, and I need to tell it!  I need to not be still any longer!” cried Marathel.  She sobbed for a few minutes, Din watching her in misery.  When she finally felt she had control again, she said, “No, the Bishop is my sire, that’s what ap Bishop means, it means of Bishop.  My sole purpose as Whyn ap Bishop was to produce more Bishops by the man who brought me to life.  And I was so perfect, wouldn’t our children be even more perfect?  The epitome of ap Bishop into another generation, of course that was how it was supposed to be.  My high-ranking brothers were allowed to impregnate my sisters — their sisters, and odds are that some of my brothers impregnated their own mothers as well as their daughters.  Like it mattered.  A cunt is a cunt is a cunt, just so long as that cunt is in the right family. 

“And that’s how I thought things were supposed to be.  That’s the way it always was.  That was the way.  What other way could there possibly be?  There wasn’t anywhere or anything else to compare it to … not that I knew about. 

“Imagine ... imagine how I felt when I learned that everything, everything I knew was wrong.  It’s wrong to be sucking cock when you’re a little child.  It’s wrong to be impregnated by your father, to bear his children so he can impregnate them later when they’re ready.  It’s wrong to be known only as a cunt, wrong to be tied down to a platform, carved up, whipped senseless, to be fucked by every man in the Hold several times over in every hole you have, to have a sharp-studded metal cylinder shoved up inside you because you broke the promise you had no choice in making.  

“I didn’t know that. 

“I didn’t know that I’m an inbred, incestuous, whore cunt freak with chronic generational congenital hemophilia. That’s the phrase, one of several Eliadu taught me about myself.  Another is primary impaired fecundity.   That means that I am completely infertile.  I was never ever able to bear children, the one thing I was ever supposed to do, the only thing I wanted to do.  My insides don’t work right.  Neither does my mind … all the beatings and my injuries have taken their toll. Traumatic brain damage.  Anoxic brain damage – caused by acute hypoxia. Lack of oxygen to the brain, too many times, probably from when you were bringing me here, I guess. I suppose I’m lucky I’m not insane.  Perhaps I am.  To fix the bleeding, the Reconstructionists had to burn part of my brain and reattach it to some other part of my brain. I don’t know how it all worked; I couldn’t understand.  I just know that some parts were fixed but other parts are too ... frayed to go back together.” 

Marathel sighed.  “All I ever wanted was something more than I apparently deserved.  And I had that, for just a few days, with you and Grogu ... “ Marathel smiled again at Din.  “… the happiest of my life … and I just wanted to die with your memory foremost in my mind, to sleep in peace, at least imagining — pretending — that you cared for me in some way instead of just as another … I don’t know … object for you to play with as you wished because I threw myself at you that first time. 

“This, this — this body that you said was mine and only mine to grant consent to you to touch? It’s not mine, it’s never been mine. But even then, still … This is all I have.  I was willing for you to have it, but … I just wanted to be … not less than the man I was willing to have touch me.  The man who made me laugh and brought me gorugellys and made me feel I was at least somewhat desirable as a woman and not just a cunt.  But you ... you get to sit there, protected by your armor and helmet and weapons, and your Creed.  I got to feel your arms and hands on me, which I assume is allowable for you and your Creed. I got to feel you fuck me, you’re a man, I’m a cunt, that’s your right. I got to see your hair, which I’m certain is not allowable by your Creed.  I’m not sorry I got to see it, even if it does break your Creed.  I don’t give a shit about your Creed.  But me … all I had was everything I was born with, which is nothing at all.   Just a cunt.” 

For the first time since Marathel began speaking, Din felt a rage flare inside him.  And it was not to rail against the indignities done to her, but instead against her.  To hear Marathel say she didn’t give a shit about his Creed angered him greatly.  How dare she?  How dare she attack the core of who I am?  

He no longer wanted to listen to her.  But she kept on. 

“Did you know I have one of those chip things now?  They made me -- wherever I was when I was with the Reconstructionists.  Before I could leave, the Imps put a chip in me.  They made me take a name, a … surname, a family name, I couldn’t just travel with the only name I’ve had my whole life, that wasn’t enough for them!  I thought I should just take the surname Belwhyn, that would be perfectly descriptive, but instead I told them my name should be ap Unmapeth.  I have no idea how it’s spelled, obviously.  I can’t read, why does a cunt need to know how to read?  But I was not, not ever, going to be an ap Bishop.   

“Unmapeth means nothing.   

“Marathel Nothing from Nowhere, the Belwhyn. 

“That’s me. 

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.  I can’t possibly be a part of polite society, even on a shithole planet like this one.  I hate it so much here.  This sand, this dust, everywhere!  Digging into my skin, my hair, suffocating me.  I’m a monster, disgusting, untouchable, spreading my filth and disease and madness to anyone who comes near me.  Where else should I be but the planet that created me?  At least there I can live, endure … without interfering in anyone else’s life.  Especially not your life, not Grogu’s life.  

“I think I told you I threw myself off a cliff because I was under the spell of the Dahl’s mating; that’s not quite true.  Yes, they were rising to mate, and I still couldn’t bear it by myself, I felt as if I were going mad.  I had already broken free of the ropes holding me to the post — it is so difficult to tie yourself up — and I had already tried pressing stones against myself, wrapping my legs around the post, and nothing was helping and I was so desperate that I just ran, ran in a straight line, thinking maybe I could find something, anything that could help me, and I was terrified because I had considered going to the Hold and throwing myself at the Bishop.  So, I ran the opposite way, away from the Hold, and I knew the cliffs were before me.  I knew there were rocks just under the surface of the water that would kill me, bash my head in, break all my bones, and there was coral that would shred me to ribbons so that I would become food for the great Godynferth and it finally will all be over.   

“I ran straight for that edge as fast as I could -- I'm a good runner, you know that, you’ve seen me run — and I heard the Dahls screaming at me to BE STILL! but I ignored them all as I leapt off that cliff, and I turned myself over so I would land directly on my back, and I watched the sky above me as I fell and I begged the women that had gone before me that were watching me from above, let me be with you and I will watch over the little girls that come after me and protect them even though I had brought forth none of my own, and I hit that water with the most exquisite pain I had ever felt.  But … I had run so hard and so fast I missed the rocks completely.  I fell into deep water.  I tried then to drown, but I couldn’t, the water kept pushing me up and out, and away from the coral. 

“I can’t even kill myself right, how pathetic is that?   My only injury was to my back from hitting the water, and my back turned black, just like it did when you knocked me down to the floor when I was so desperate to fuck you when the Dahls were mating.   

“It just occurred to me -- you fought me harder than I thought you would, especially since you had agreed to be there with me. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be amused or upset by that.  But I suppose you only ever learned how to fight, just like I only ever learned how to be fucked.  Cobb was right, we are very alike, you and me.” 

We are nothing alike, thought Din.  And I resent you discussing this with him.  What else did you discuss?  What else did you do with him, Marathel?  With my friend? 

“By the time I got back to the hut, my back was so bruised, it took weeks for the blood to reabsorb.  Olba came out to find me because I hadn’t been up to the Hold for supplies.  I was so swollen with blood that she had to cut slashes on my back to drain it out; the unguent wouldn’t help.  I’m sure she received beatings for staying with me instead of being in the Hold. 

“You know, I don’t remember how I got out of the water, or how I got back to the hut.  Maybe the Dahls came to rescue me?  Doubtful.  The Dahls loved me, but they had more important things to do.  Even for the Dahls, fucking was more important than a woman. 

“They — the Reconstructionists — told me my people are doomed to die out.  Fewer and fewer women will be able to bear children.  I’ve already seen that in my own lifetime … the girls getting pregnant are younger and younger, women become Diwhyns earlier, more mothers die giving birth.  How much longer can that be carried on before there’s no one left?  Perhaps, if Frith wills it so, the Mist will just come when we don’t expect it and burn us all away, burn us down to ashes. 

“You, Bounty Hunter, you earned 167 Aurodium coins to bring me to the Hold.  But you took me away with you.  And then, you kept the coins instead of giving them to your covert, I don’t know why, but I suppose that’s none of my business.  Again, I’m only a cunt, you’re a man, that just how it is.  Fennec told me your covert wouldn’t accept them.  I don’t know if that’s true; I’m not a Mandalorian, that is your way, not mine.  However, it seems to me you didn’t do the job you got paid for, so you owe me a trip back, Bounty Hunter.  When do we leave?” 

You Were Marked: Next Chapter ->

[usafphantom2]

The electric countermeasures that were in the SR 71 were able to blind North Vietnam’s radar.

THE SR-71 PLAYED A MAJOR PART IN LINEBACKER II

The bombing of the supply channels of Vietnam, which led to the ending of the war (Jan. 1973) Linebacker II, an SR 71, was flying with the B-52 shielding them with their electric countermeasures.. ⭐️by blinding the North Vietnamese radar.⭐️

The following story was sent to me by Chris Cobb, who is my neighbor and went to high school with me, about his father, Colonel Darrel Cobb, and Reg Blackwell, “My Dad passed away four years ago. . . .but boy, did we hear some of the stories in the latter years. For example, in this mission, my Dad said that he was watching the SAMs coming toward him and took his eye off the speed. He checked with Reg, the RSO, what speed he showed, and he replied 2150 KTAS (which translates to 2474 MPR).”

Essentially, this mission blinded the North Vietnamese radar by the SR ECM. And within one month, the Paris peace talks were held, and the was over.

An hour before midnight on 27 December 1972, Giant Scale mission GS663 got underway when SR-71 975 lifted off Kadena runway on what would prove to be the only Habu night sortie of the entire Vietnam War.

Col. Darrel Cobb and RSO Capt Reggie Blackwell's mission objective was to conduct a coordinated EMR/HRR sortie to determine if the North Vietnamese had acquired new equipment or employed updated procedures for the SA-2s that were responsible for generating such high B-52 losses. To achieve this, the SR-71’s arrival over the Haiphong/Hanoi areas was timed at precisely the exact moment that 60 B-52s were to begin dropping their bombs on the rail yards at Lang Dang, Duc Noi, and Trung Quant, the Van Dien supply center, and three missile sites.

With the North's defensive radar systems running at full stretch to cope with the raid, intelligence planners reasoned that this would be an ideal time for such a sortie. In addition, the SR-71, with its unmatched ECM suite, would provide additional electronic support for the bombers.

As they arrived at the collection area on schedule, Cobb and Blackwell observed numerous SA-2 firings. During the fleeting moments when they were crossing the immediate target area, they were able to radiate a blinding ECM blanket. During the raid, only one Guam-based B-52 was lost. Darrel and Reggie landed back at Kadena at 0239 hours. The next day they learned that their mission had produced a wealth of intelligence data.

The two 60-bomber raids launched on the final two nights of Linebacker II saw all B-52s arrive back at their bases safely. Following the action on the night of 29/30 December, the North Vietnamese government expressed a willingness to return to the negotiating table.

The Habus had faithfully recorded a record of Linebacker's enormous level of destruction. The conflict in Vietnam ended for the United States when the Paris Agreement was enacted on 27 January 1973.

Lockheed Blackbird: Beyond the Secret Missions by Paul Crickmore

Post~Linda Sheffield

Thank you, Chris Cobb

@Habubrats71 via X

[milosometimeswrites]

Writeblr - ReIntroduction

Howdy howdy! I figured I'd type one of these out again because I'm trying to be more active on here, and also pushing myself to indulge in my passion for writing again... this helped last time, so I may as well give it another shot.

My name is Milo (he/xe) and I'm an aspiring author. I've always loved writing, and there's never been a point in my life where I didn't want to write in some capacity. It's easy for me to succumb to writer's block, but writing makes me happy and I want to be able to share what I create.

About Me

I'm a 22 year old (very gay) transman from Canada, and I want so badly to be able to travel to other parts of the world one day.

I'm a D&D nerd. When I struggle with a writing project, I often fall back on expanding my D&D worlds/characters. It's my safety net.

My career is in film. I work in the Art Department, mainly in props, and am working towards maybe becoming a Production Designer one day. I also dabble in Special Effects. Film work is a competing passion of mine, and you'll definitely find posts of me talking about work.

Like most other authors, I love weird shit, and you'll find a lot of weird stuff in my writing. Weird Fantasy is my favourite kind of genre.

In my writing you'll find themes of 2SLGTBQIA+, found family, fighting destiny, struggling under mega-corps/capitalism, nature vs nurture, self-discovery, different kinds of love, slightly unsettling surroundings, and weird lil monsters/freaky dudes.

My Current Projects

I have two writing projects going on right now. One I had to put on the backburner because I had written myself into a corner. The story wasn't progressing or flowing the way I had envisioned/planned, and I ended up getting more stressed than excited to write it. The other is one more laid-back for me to write. (Keep in mind, these short descriptions may be subject to change in the future)

The Strings of Willis Manor: Thistle Willis is sick. Her condition leaves her confined to the property of Willis Manor; a sprawling estate with lush gardens, dusty corridors, and horrifying secrets. At her attendance is Clementine (an automaton handmaid), Andromeda Marrow (Thistle's best friend) and her ever-energetic little sister Tourmaline. When Father doesn't return from a business trip to the South, Thistle begins to fear the worst. Mama – the Mistress of the manor – hires an unknown Healer from an unknown land to find a cure for Thistle. But this cloaked Healer isn't who they say they are, and Thistle begins to uncover what really may be going on in the house she thought she could call home.

(Backburner) - Beneath Tattered Flesh: In the hissing, polluted, Magic, and bronze city of Ritec, Caesar Dampton is trying to move forward. He's trying to get over a bad break-up, make ends meet, and help his best friend - Emersyn Riley - find her place in the world. Between running away from his ex, and trying to figure out what he wants to do with his life, Caesar is stuck in a downward spiral. Newt Gourdeau got the chance of a lifetime; a full scholarship to Verne Cobb University. Leaving their small town behind, they carved out a life for themself in the city of opportunities. They're trying to bury their problems in mystery novels, university studies, and attempting to find a scientific reason as to why some people in this world have Magic, while others don't. Their obsessions leave them in solitude for days. But when the unlikely pair see similar tragic events happen at the same time, but in different parts of the city, they stumble into each other's lives. Manipulation and death follow the two at every step, but they're both determined to get to the bottom of a gruesome mystery unfolding in the city... or die trying.

What I'm Looking For

As you could probably already tell, I'm not awesome at keeping myself "on schedule", which is code for "I sometimes let my life/anxiety/career/whatever eat away at my passion for writing and I'll abandon it for several months a time". Having a place to post updates, or even just little rambles, really helps me out.

So in all honesty, if you're interested in what you see, then feel free to stick around! I'd love to chat, do fun word tags, and just be in a community of like-minded people.

Thanks for reading!

[prettygoododds]

Thank you @youarenevertooold @roomwithanopenfire @ic3-que3n @artsyunderstudy @blackberrysummerblog & @nausikaaa for the tags today!

I have a cool month before I have to travel for teenage Odds ever revolving sport schedule. I'm going to try to make the best of it!

Here's a teaser for my COBB piece this year:

He keeps the house unbearably warm though. I don’t know how he can stand it, walking around in proper trousers and a button up long sleeve shirt. It’s just spring, so the mornings are a bit chilled but by late afternoon I’ve shucked off my shirt because I’ve sweat through it.  Yesterday, as I was leaving, I ran straight into Baz as he was coming out of a room and I was walking down the hallway looking anywhere but in front of me. I’d yet to put my shirt back on, and I definitely left a Simon sized sweat mark on his fancy shirt. He ran off in a hurry. Probably to get some stain remover on it.

Since I'm late to the game today I won't tag anyone, but feel free to pretend I did and share your stuff!