#despite being known as forest daddy

[antisocialpanda]

(combining my two current obsessions 😏)

TBOSAS Characters as Hozier Tweets

Coriolanus Snow:

Lucy Gray Baird:

Sejanus Plinth:

Dr Gaul:

[shewrites444]

secrets [xavier thorpe x reader smut]

written by me & me only!!! enjoy ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

word count - 2.4k

[summary: the reader and xavier have been hooking up since the semester started, but when he suddenly goes ghost after awhile, the reader learns that his feelings for her venture far more than what lies on the surface.]

[warnings: rough sex, car sex, choking, spitting, daddy kink, dirty talk, dominant male]

-

xavier thorpe wasn't the most sought out guy at nevermore, surprisingly, but when his ex girlfriend, bianca, sent me a text that read, i'm going to tell everyone your secret, i quickly realized that he may be more well-known than what i thought. the fact they dated last year slipped my mind, but i was also a transfer student, so its not like i knew every piece of drama this school had.

we had been hooking up since the beginning of this semester, originally starting as just a one time thing after the rave'n that eventually lead into basically anytime we saw each other. i never found myself in the time or place for a relationship, and he said he felt the same way, so having sex really meant nothing other than a good time. sure, we'd hang out after, maybe go paint in his art studio or go to his dorm, but it really wasn't that big of a deal.

except for tonight.

xavier was being really weird and had been for about the past week, barely answering my texts and when he did, it was just one or two word answers. i was genuinely concerned about him, and that maybe that text from bianca was something he knew about, so he possibly wanted to keep his distance from me. either way, i would prefer him to just tell me to my face that this was over with, so despite how nervous i was, i planned on sneaking out to his art studio tonight because if he wasn't at his dorm, that's where he'd be.

glancing at my phone, i watched as the clock finally hit midnight and i got out of bed, grabbing my black sweatshirt and slipping it on over my top. i walked quietly out of my dorm and down the stairs, opening one of the windows and made my way to his studio through the foggy and damp forest.

glancing through the windows, i noticed all the lights were out, but i opened the doors anyway, shutting them slowly behind me and turning on the light. most of his paintings were visions he had through his dreams, so pretty creepy stuff, but nothing i couldn't handle. i looked around, accidently tripping on a long sheet covering a relatively large canvas. it dropped to the floor and i quickly leaned down to pick it up if he for some reason were to come inside.

looking up, i saw a painting that was definitely not a vision. my eyes widened and my cheeks reddened as i scanned the drying canvas up and down to see a rather explicit drawing of no one other than myself. it was genuinely indescribable to say the least, but also incredible artwork at the same time. before i could even process it, i heard the door open and i gasped, turning to see a very embarrassed xavier.

he walked over rather quickly and grabbed the sheet from me, hanging it back over the painting and grabbed my hand, clearly frustrated.

"what the hell, [y/n]! you were never supposed to see that, like, ever.. why are you in here? a text would have been nice, you know.."

"i-i just wanted to talk to you, i don't know!" i stammer, looking down at the floor and avoiding eye contact as much as i could. "not like you would have answered my text anyway." i mutter and i cross my arms, shaking my head in confusion. "i'm not judging you, but like.. why would you draw that if you don't even want me in your life anymore? you've like full-blown ghosted me this entire week. did i do something?"

xavier ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head and sighing heavily. "no, [y/n], you did nothing wrong, you never have.."

i raise my brow and glance up to him and his flushed expression, "then why are you acting like this? did someone find out what was going on between us?"

"i know about what bianca said, [y/n], but she isn't going to hurt either of us. she just wants to start drama." xavier explained, scratching the back of his head as he built up the courage to say what he was trying to say. "it's just too complicated to explain, i don't want to talk about it."

i frown in frustration and turn the other way, walking out of the art shed when xavier frantically follows behind me as i walk through the sprinkling rain and towards nevermore. there was no sense in standing around if the conversation, and our friendship, was not going to go anywhere. the entire situation would hurt less if i just went to my dorm and to sleep.

"woah, what are you doing? you're really just going to leave, and walk all the way back in the rain?" xavier shouts, walking behind me with a fast pace to keep up as i trudge through the muddy woods.

i nod, pulling my hood over my head. "yep! since you can't even give me any explanation, i don't want to waste my time."

i feel xavier grab the top of my arm and drag me a few feet down to a parked car, which was his, and open the back door, pushing me in and shutting it behind me. i sit there with widened eyes, watching him get in next to me and shut the door behind him. my brow raises and i lean against the door, one hand resting on it to open it, unless he finally told me what was going on.

"fine, [y/n]. if you want the truth, it's that i like you, and that is going to ruin everything going on between us. i've liked you for awhile now, and yeah, i push it to the back of my head the best i can when i'm with you, but the more i'm with you, the worse this all gets."

i take my hand away from the door and sympathetically look up to a vulnerable xavier, reaching over to take his hand and hold it gently. "you know you could have just told me instead of ignore me over text, and in class. this kind of thing happens all the time in a friends with benefits kind of situation. we work it out together, and you can't expect me to express my own feelings about it when you don't even ask me."

xavier pulls away from my hand and rubs his forehead with both hands, looking down in frustration with himself and the situation. "but you don't understand. yeah, i wanted to tell you this earlier, but it's all so confusing, and frankly, kind of dark.. i have a lot of romantic feelings for you, but the more i like you, the more i want to do things to you.. like.. things that are way more intense than what we do now.."

i grin, tucking my hair behind my ears and leaning closer, our faces inches apart, the heat between our breaths grazing against each other's lips. "tell me what you want to do to me."

he bites his bottom lip, shaking his head with a smirk and looking down. "i think i'd rather just do it to you, then tell you. but you need to tell me how you feel first. about everything. i want you to be sure."

"i like you too." i admit, smiling softly to him. "so fuck me, or whatever this fantasy of yours entails, and we can go from there."

he reaches over to cup my cheeks, slamming his soft lips against mine as we begin to kiss, my hands venturing down to his waist as i slide his sweatpants down, grazing against his hardening dick that strained in his underwear, then making the fabric the next thing i took off. i took his dick in one hand and began to jerk him off, earning a few months from his lips as we continued to make out. i feel xavier push his weight on me, making me sink into the seat below me as he breaks our kiss and motions his body to where my hand slides off him.

xavier grabs my sweatshirt and pulls it off, along with my top, pulling my bra down to attach his lips to one of my nipples, using one hand to hold my own, as the other reaches down to my own pants, sliding them down with my help as i wiggle out of them. i feel him slide my panties to the side as well, pumping one finger inside of me.

i moan, moving one hand to hold the back of his head, grabbing his hair and sliding my fingers through it. i close my eyes and spread my legs to allow him in further as he slides another finger in.

he pulls himself away from my nipple and looks up to me to peck my lips. "you like that, baby? do you want me to fuck you yet?"

"y-yes.." i nod, looking up to meet his eyes in the darkened light as he pulls his fingers out of me and sits up, taking his top off. i lean down to pull my underwear off before he stops me, taking my hand and pushing it back to my side. he moves himself to grab me by the hips, helping me sit up and turn me to face the center console of his car, leaning my body down and positioning himself behind me. i feel him press his dick against my folds, slowly sliding the tip in before starting a rhythm.

he leans down to kiss my cheek, licking the side before nibbling on my ear and motioning one hand to wrap around the back of my neck. his fingers grip my skin as his roughness begins to build up, his other hand now placed on my clit as he begins to rub in a circular motion, earning a heavy gasp on my end while he stimulates me.

"you feel so good, [y/n]... you gonna come for me, hm?" xavier asked softly as i nod. he then moves his hand from my throat to my ass, slapping it harshly as i yip in surprise. "you don't cum until i say so, or this is going to go on for way longer than what you can handle."

i giggle, turning my head to glance to him. "you're funny. you know i like a fuckton of stimulation."

xavier clicked his tongue at my remark, grabbing me by the waist and pulling my body towards him as he sits on the seat, slamming me down on him and i gasp, shock sending through my body as he length pushes itself into me. he continues to rub my clit, and wraps one arm around my waist, holding my tightly.

"go on and bounce on daddy's dick, if you wanna say shit like that." he scoffs, holding me tightly as i begin to ride him, my feet planted against the seat while i take each and every inch of him. i feel him grunt with every thrust, our moans mixing together as we pleasure each other.

"i didn't know you were so dominant, xav..." i mutter, both my hands on his knees as i move. "it's really hot, to be honest.."

xavier grinned, grabbing my hair with his hand after moving it off my waist. "oh really? if you think so, then why don't you let me take it a step further."

"whatever you want, daddy."

and with my permission, he helped to turn my around to face him, leaning me down on the seat once again, locking our lips as he repositions himself inside me. he begins to thrust again, this time a bit softer than what he was doing before. i feel him take my hands and hold them both above my head. he looks down to me and smirks, tilting his head.

"open your mouth."

i do so almost instantly and feel his spit hit the back of my throat and i swallow, our eyes locked through each and every stroke, and breath we take. he bites his top lip, picking up his pace to the point my head hits the car door a bit, but i barely even notice from the amount of stimulation coming from his thrusts. i close my eyes and hang my mouth open, moans filling the silence other than the slaps between our skin.

he moves his free hand to hold my throat once again, but from the front of my neck. just when i thought he couldn't go any harder, xavier lets go of my wrists and moves his hand to cover my mouth as he slams himself into my walls, making me yelp underneath his palm.

my entire body was shaking from the shock it was receiving from such immense pleasure, and pain. i move my arms to wrap around his waist, pulling him closer down to me as he continuously thrusts completely in and out of me, his balls slapping against my sweating skin, which was quickly filled with my own cum, dripping against his dick and balls while he continued.

just as xavier grew close, he pulled out of me, adjusting his body to line his dick up with my mouth and shoves it down my throat, gasping as i take him immediately, despite how caught off guard i was. he groaned, looking down as he fucked my face, both of his hands sliding down to hold my cheeks.

"this is so hot, fuck, [y/n].." he moans, looking down to me. "i've never wanted anyone more in my life than you. you're so hot.. you take my dick so good, baby..."

i shove my head up after his words, his dick balls deep down my throat as he gasps, cumming immediately upon my actions. he pulls out after a few seconds and sits back on the seat, leaning his body to the side.

i sit up, wiping my mouth with a red-stained face as i scoot towards him. i pick his lips, leaning down to rest my head on his shoulder. i feel his arm wrap around me and his free hand take my own, playing with my fingers while he catches his breath, and i do the same.

"i hope i didn't hurt you."

"maybe a little, but i liked it." i admit, laughing at my confession before glancing back up to him. "i didn't know your feelings for me went so deep as to fucking me to the point i can feel like, every nerve in my body."

xavier blushed, shrugging lightly and kissing me once again. "guess there is more to me than what you know."

"so no more secrets?" i grin, intertwining our fingers. "promise me you'll be honest about your feelings from now on, sexual or not."

"promise." xavier nodded, hugging me with his arm that was around me. "no more secrets."

[princesskenny1998]

Hey! ^.^

I was wondering if you would write about a muggleborn fem!Ravenclaw!reader with Draco based on the Taylor Swift song, “But Daddy I Love Him”?

I thought it would be fun and I think Draco is a perfect fit for the main man of this song? Possibly because muggle parents heard about the powerful and slightly dangerous Malfoys?

Thank you if you do, and take care! 🤍

Hello <3 So, this is absolutely not my music bubble but I think I managed, hope you like it!

Harry Potter | Draco Malfoy x muggleborn!f!ravenclaw!reader ~ "But Daddy, I love him!"

The rain drizzled steadily against the windowpane, casting shadows across your open book, but you couldn’t focus on the text. The words blurred together, and you turned another page without reading it, your thoughts drifting back to the same place they always did when you were alone—back to Draco.

It had been a stormy and unexpected beginning, the kind of whirlwind that your parents would call a “bad influence” if they only knew half the truth. You were a Muggleborn Ravenclaw—a daughter of a family who, before Hogwarts, had only known the mundane world of academics and structured expectations. Your parents were good people, but they were grounded in a strict, almost suffocating sense of normalcy.

To them, the Wizarding World was a barely-understood mystery, something that they could accept on a superficial level but never truly comprehend. And when they heard whispers of the Malfoy family—of their history, their blood ties to the dark, ancient magic that had once gripped the wizarding world in fear—their acceptance turned to suspicion. They warned you, tried to cage you in with rules and boundaries even though they couldn’t set foot in the world you were growing into. They didn’t understand.

But you did. Or at least, you understood that Draco Malfoy, despite everything they’d heard, had become more than just the boy from the infamous family. He was chaos, he was raw emotion and jagged edges, and he made you feel alive in a way that studying, excelling, and being the perfect daughter never could.

The first time you kissed, it had been under the shadow of the Forbidden Forest.

It was your fifth year, and you’d stumbled across him in a rare, vulnerable moment, leaning against the base of a massive oak tree with his hair disheveled and a tired, haunted look in his eyes. You hadn’t meant to stay, but something in the way he looked at you—like you were the last person in the world he wanted to see, but also the only one he needed—kept your feet planted firmly in the cool, dewy grass. You didn’t know who moved first, but the moment his lips brushed yours, it was like a spark ignited, and suddenly you were drowning in a fire you didn’t want to escape.

From there, it was a flurry of stolen moments and whispered secrets, hands brushing under the table in the library, secret smiles shared across the Great Hall when no one else was looking. The world outside didn’t matter when it was just the two of you, and he wasn’t the cold, arrogant Slytherin heir—he was just Draco, and you were his girl.

It wasn’t long before you fell in love with his contradictions. The way he could be cruel and indifferent to everyone else, but soft and careful when it came to you. How he kissed you like he was starving, like he needed you more than he needed air. You knew he had his demons, and that he kept secrets even from you, but you didn’t care. He was wild, unpredictable, and imperfect, and you didn’t want anyone else.

But things changed before your seventh year, when the tension that had been simmering beneath the surface for years finally came to a head. You hadn't been able to return to Hogwarts, with your blood status it was prohibited and way too dangerous. Instead you had stayed hidden, blending in in the muggle world until the fateful day Draco had found you and told you that Voldemort was finally gone.

The war was over, but the scars remained, and Draco was still struggling to shed the weight of his family’s dark legacy. Your parents had heard too much, asked too many questions, and when they learned that the boy you were sneaking off to see was a Malfoy, they had reacted with horror.

You remembered that conversation vividly. Your father’s face had turned a deep, angry red as he slammed the Daily Prophet down on the kitchen table, a recent article about the Malfoy trial spread across the pages. “He’s dangerous,” your father had said, his voice shaking with barely restrained fury. “He and his family—they were on the wrong side. They were Death Eaters. How can you even think of being with him?”

Your mother, usually the more lenient of the two, had been equally resolute, her eyes hard and disapproving. “You can’t see him anymore,” she had declared. “We’ve let you live in that magical world, but this is too much. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

They couldn’t understand. They didn’t know the way he held you when you were falling apart, or how he’d open up in rare, unguarded moments when he thought no one could see him. They hadn’t seen the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, or the way his hands shook when he thought you were angry at him. They only knew his last name, and the darkness that it carried, and they refused to look past it.

But you had never been one to follow the rules you thought didn't make sense.

So you continued to sneak away, seeing Draco in secret, the thrill of the forbidden heightening every touch, every stolen kiss. It was reckless, you knew, and every time you returned home, your parents’ questions grew more pointed, their suspicion turning into bitter arguments. They couldn’t understand why you refused to talk about your life, why you looked away when they mentioned the Malfoys, why you were no longer the dutiful, predictable daughter they had raised.

You lied to them, skillfully and effortlessly, until the lies became second nature. You buried the truth so deeply that even you began to lose track of where the deception ended and the reality began. They tried to pull you back, to anchor you to the safe, Muggle life they had planned, but Hogwarts had changed you. Draco had changed you.

Back at school, the tension only grew, a knot tightening around your heart. You and Draco were spiraling, caught in a cycle of passionate fights and desperate reconciliations. He was different this year—quieter, more withdrawn, as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Sometimes you’d catch glimpses of the darkness in his gaze, and it would scare you, but you never turned away. You were in too deep, and you had never been very good at letting go of the things you loved.

One rainy evening in mid-October, you sat alone in the Ravenclaw common room, staring into the fire, your parents’ words echoing in your mind. They had written you another letter—one of many—begging you to come home for good, to leave the “dangerous and untrustworthy” boy who had stolen your heart. You’d torn the letter to pieces and thrown it into the fire, watching the edges curl and blacken until nothing remained but ashes.

But you couldn’t burn away the doubts. They lingered, coiling in the back of your mind like smoke, and it was getting harder and harder to breathe.

“Maybe they’re right,” Draco said one night, his voice low and rough.

You were sitting together by the Black Lake, hidden under the cover of the trees, his arms wrapped around you as the moon cast silver light over the rippling water. He looked down at you, his eyes shadowed and weary, and you saw the fear there—the fear that he would lose you, that he was dragging you down into the darkness that had swallowed his family whole.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be with me,” he continued, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Maybe you deserve better.”

You pulled back, your heart breaking at the emptiness in his eyes. “Don’t say that,” you said fiercely, cupping his face in your hands. “You’re not dangerous. You’re not your family, Draco. I don’t care what they say—I’m not leaving you.”

He stared at you, his eyes searching yours, and for a moment you thought he was going to argue. But then his expression crumpled, and he kissed you—hard and desperate, like he was drowning and you were the only thing keeping him afloat. You kissed him back, pouring all of your defiance and love into that single moment, feeling the rush of rebellion and freedom wash over you like a tidal wave.

The storm finally broke over Christmas break.

You had come home for the holidays, reluctantly answering your parents’ demands that you spend time with them, but every conversation had been tense and stilted. They pressed you about school, about Draco, about the things you wouldn’t tell them, and you had retreated behind walls of silence and half-truths, your patience fraying with every passing day.

It was on Christmas Eve that the argument exploded, a blistering confrontation that left you breathless and furious. Your father had found one of the letters Draco had written to you—tucked away in your room, a place you thought was safe—and he had read every word, his face growing redder and redder with each line.

“He’s using you!” your father had shouted, his voice cracking with emotion. “Can’t you see that? He’s dragging you down, pulling you into his mess—”

“But, Daddy, I love him!” you had shouted back, your own voice hoarse with rage. “You don’t know him! You’ve never even met him, and you never will, because you don’t want to understand. You just want me to be the person you think I should be!”

Your mother had tried to step in, her face pale and drawn, but you had pushed past her, running out of the house and into the cold, biting winter night. You ran until your lungs burned, until your tears froze on your cheeks, and when you stopped, it was only because you had nowhere else to go.

That was when you made your choice.

You didn’t return home after Christmas. Instead, you sent an owl to Hogwarts, arranging to stay at the castle over the break, and you disappeared from your parents lives. The letters they sent went unanswered, unopened, left to pile up in a dusty corner of your dormitory where you pretended they didn’t exist. You were done playing the perfect daughter. You were done hiding who you were.

The spring of your seventh year was a blur of emotions and defiance, of laughter and tears and all the messy, beautiful chaos that defined your relationship with Draco. You were reckless together, daring the world to stop you, and every time you thought you were about to fall apart, he was there to catch you.

The day of your graduation Draco had pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly you could barely breathe, then you had felt something inside you settle. This was your choice, your life, and you would fight for it until the end.

Years later, the scandal had faded, and the once judgmental eyes of your friends and families had turned to other stories. Your parents, though still wary, had begun to accept your decision, realizing that you were determined to build a life that they couldn’t dictate with or without them.

There were scars left behind, but they no longer hurt the way they once did. Draco was still unpredictable, still complicated and infuriating, but he was yours, and the life you had built together was more than you ever dreamed it could be.

The past, with all its secrets and shadows, no longer mattered.

All that mattered was that you had chosen him, and you would never look back.

[knightofhylia]

Adding Spiritual Elements to TOTK/BOTW Gameplay

Sadly, despite being a pretty religion focused game there is not a lot of options to actually show devotion. Here are a few ways I bond with the Hyrulean spirits while playing!

*Always crouch before praying at the altar. I generally crouch, pray, leave offerings in that order so I don't accidentally pick up offerings. It's a small show of respect!

Various offerings at Hylia statues|Silent Princess' on Zelda's pedestal

*Leave offerings at goddess statues. Once you max out your hearts and stamina the statues don't get as much attention. Other great offering locations: Satori Mountain, The Leviathan Skeletons/Dark Skeletons, Temple of Time ground +Sky

*Cleanse yourself in springs, pools found in shrines, also great fairy pools. The Sacred Springs are a top choice but I also go to the depths at the Secret Spring of Revival. This can be a little bit more eloquently done in totk than botw, but jumping in none the less is good enough.

*Clothing is important! Hyrule is known for incredible fashion and lots of symbolism in their clothing. be intentional with the ingredients you use to dye your outfits. I dye my white outfits for the depths with silent princess to purify the clothes and to protect me in the depths (not an actual buff). I dye my sheikah outfit purple with muddlebuds to magically imbue their confusing properties with my sneaky outfit. etc I like to match the vibes of where I'm going with my outfits.

Red hair for Dinraal, Purple for Sheikah/Hylia, White for Nadyra/Satori combo

*Disarm in public spaces. It makes it a bit more authentic feeling when you aren't sitting in the middle of town strapped to the teeth. I usually only keep my bow equipped.

*Have some areas be no hunting zones such as forests around the Temples of Time or other sacred areas. Or do the opposite and pick specific sites for animal or monster sacrifice

*Spend time with the dragons. In botw you can leave offerings at their spawn sites, make pilgrimages to see them come up and go down. in totk you can ride on them and use that as bonding time. It's a good time to meditate and listen to the music. When I am farming for dragon parts or need a dragon to appear, I usually go to their spring and leave an offering.

Me needing Naydra fangs for armor

*Feed the animals! horses, sheep, goats, dogs, even stalhorse will eat apples or meat if you hold or drop the food. Dondons as well can be fed luminous stones, which are known to have connection to spirits.

*Use Shrine cutscenes as moment to recenter and meditate for a moment (aka don't skip the cutscene). I usually skip the cutscenes but sometimes I use the moments to realign myself especially if the shrine was really frustrating.

*Make your house into a shrine! With the gallery options you are able to post pictures on the wall. Usually I have pictures of the dragons or goddess statues, Sonia's grave, or geoglyphs. And you can change it anytime!

Mommy and Daddy Hyrule and Restored Mother Statue

May the Goddess smile upon your save file!

[creepy-friday]

Do you have any head cannons for slenderman? I love the way you portrait him

The Slenderman Headcanons

Summary: daddy issues

Here is a link if you want to hear a short dribble of his past: here

He's much taller and eerie looking than portrayed in drawings.He needs to bend down a lot to fit into any normal room,that's why the last floor has ridiculously high ceilings.

Despite his devoid of features white face,he can form different expression while deforming his face-much like clay.In different lighting you can clearly see an expression.

While in hunting he can deform his face so much to form a monstrous looking mouth.

His tendrils leave marks.On the walls,the chairs,ceiling,floor and human skin.It's very hard to heal a mark left by them.They feel slimy and surprisingly warm.

The Operator doesn't recruit everyone and anyone,no matter how good of a fighter they are.What he's looking for in a potential minion is the undertone of revenge attached to them.

His office consists of countless books. Some ancient and some modern new ones. He has collections of tales made for children,occult books, psychology and war.

An eternal being whose essence serve little to no meaning in this world.

His mission is to eliminate anyone who would make his presence known to the world. A lot of close calls were made during proxy mistakes that lead to police teams coming in the forest.

The line between care and ignorance for the creeps is thin,the roots of his past never leaving him and sometimes the faces of the children he was meant to protect forms on his murderous residents.

Depending on his relationship with the reader,his behavior towards them drastically change.

[redwolf17]

Hozier and romanticizing Ireland, or why the “bog man” shtick should be dropped back into the bog from whence it came

So after a slapdash, frustrated post about the politics of Hozier's music went batshit yesterday, I wanna do a quick follow up about the whole bog man thing, which multiple people mentioned in the reblogs and tags.

Artists are usually known by their names, either the one they got at birth or the one they picked for their career. Beyoncé Knowles Carter goes by Beyoncé, Stefani Germanotta goes by Lady Gaga, Taylor Swift goes by Taylor Swift, etc.

Andrew Hozier-Byrne goes by the stage name Hozier. When talking about him online, most people just call him Hozier, or sometimes Andrew for emphasis or to be silly. Then you have the people who call him stuff like this:

Yeahhhhhhhh, that's just some of what I found in like a 5 minute search. If you search tumblr for "bog man" or "forest daddy" it's almost all posts about Hozier; there's a lot more (and weirder) if you go look on TikTok.

People from other countries romanticizing Ireland isn't new, but that doesn't make it acceptable. Ireland is very much a modern country with modern problems, despite media (mostly American) which prefers to focus on Ireland as an exotic, idealized land, a postcard from the past where everyone lives in cottages and dresses in green and only speaks in mysterious rhyming couplets. Heck, only 3 in 10 Irish people live in rural areas. The other 7 in 10 live in urban or suburban areas, including Hozier. He lives in County Wicklow, which is quite close to Dublin, a city of over 500,000 people and also Ireland's capital.

Like, I'm not saying anyone is The Devil for making a couple "bog man" cracks. God knows I made a few of them back in 2019; one of my old posts makes me cringe because I joked about Hozier and fairy mounds. And you can find old examples of Hozier humoring the gag here and there, whether because he found it funny at the time or because he was just playing along.

Lately, though? When the bogfather/fae king stuff comes up in interviews, Hozier seems uncomfortable with it, even though he stays polite:

Like. Hozier is just a guy. A dude named Andrew who sings and plays guitar and writes songs and is a fallible human being. Artists can't completely control their image, but if you're a fan of someone's music, you should try to treat them as a person, not a mythical creature or a bundle of stereotypes about their country or a flawless statue to be stuck up on a pedestal.

All of us (including me!) fuck up sometimes. But once we know better, we should choose to do better.

[tamurilofrivendell]

Beauty and the Beast | Chapter 20

Previous Chapters [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19] Read on AO3 [x]

Pairing: Thranduil/Fem. Reader Summary: A Beauty and the Beast inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking and a human reader from a nearby village Taglist: @captainchrisstan @rebleforkicks @yjrevolution @majahu @honey-wine @accio-boys @achromaticerebus @solomonssimp @tired-ass-show-girl @dreamlessnight @daddy-long-legolas​ @sleepyamygdala​ @coopsgirl​

Legolas was beyond intrigued at the situation he had walked back in on. He hadn’t expected you and his father to be quite as close as you looked when he returned from patrol. He wondered just how much he had missed and found himself almost wishing he could have been here to witness such a miracle as his father befriending the human he had been so utterly annoyed to see Legolas doing the same with.

It was most amusing, as was your expression, as he watched you squirm under his gaze while you stumbled over your words, telling him how his father had explained some things and invited you to spend time with him and such. You left out a few details, not wanting to let go of every one of your little moments with Thranduil, like some of the things that he had said in the queen’s garden or the way he had looked when he showed you his burns again. Some things were just for you and he alone, as much as you weren’t fully sure yet just why you wanted to hold these moments so close.

Legolas listened with rapt attention, stealing some of the lunch that was still sitting out on the table waiting for the room to empty so the servants could clean up. He couldn’t help feeling just the slightest bit smug about the whole thing. He had known that if his father just gave it a chance, he would see that there was so much more to you and that there was so much more to the world beyond their borders that was not all bad. There was good out there that could shine brighter than even the intensity with which his father focused on the evil. It was not as black and white as the king always seemed to believe.

“I daresay you have been busy.” He chuckled, watching your face flush once more. “I should thank you. I feel your company has distracted my father from what would have been a terrible amount of strain due to my late return.” He chose his words carefully because he knew his fear for Legolas’ safety would have come out as anger and Valar help the poor servants who would have found themselves on the end of that.

You smiled a little, shrugging in response as you set your now empty cup back down on the table. “I do not need such gratitude, my prince. As I was told not so long ago... the king is not quite as bad as he might appear.”

Legolas smiled back, a playful glint in his eyes. “If you are able to call said king by his given name, I must insist that you do the same for me.”

You spent the rest of the day wandering the halls, much more aquainted with the winding corridors of the Woodland Realm than you had been when you first arrived. You loved the architecture of the place, it was absolutely beautiful. As much as you missed roaming free outside, not being confined to one space was manageable and you were starting to feel as if you could deal with it. As if you could see out the rest of your days here as well as could be expected.

A moment later, you saw Tauriel walking towards you from her room, having rested enough to feel able to resume her daily activities. She would be expected later to go to the king and give him an update of the conditions in the forest but he was currently in a meeting and she had some time. She made a beeline for you when she noticed you, smiling, and you returned it. You liked Tauriel. Despite not having spent quite as much time with her as you had others, she had been nothing but kind.

“Not in the library today?” She inquired, falling into step beside you.

You shook your head, smirking just slightly as it seemed that was now what you were known for. You had always been that girl with the books but it felt a lot better here than it had in your village. There was no derision in anybody’s eyes here when they looked at you or brought it up. “I will be later, don’t worry.” You chuckled. “I just felt like a walk.”

“Do you mind if I join for a little?” Tauriel asked and you shook your head quickly because of course you didn’t.

Truthfully, you had never really had many friends before. Maybe one or two girls back in your village but it never lasted for very long. The whispering about you would always prove too much for them sooner or later. Being associated with you as a friend didn’t seem to be a good thing and so you would always find yourself alone. Well, not alone, not truly. You had your books, after all. And your father. But still... somehow here, in this place where you had started out nothing but a prisoner, you felt that you had friends. Myleth felt like a friend, Legolas felt like a friend. Even Thranduil himself was now starting to feel like a friend.

Tauriel walked with you for a while, talking happily. She thought back to Legolas and his excitement at the way you had talked back to his father and she couldn’t help the amusement that tugged at her from within. He seemed so intent on pushing all of the king’s buttons but she knew a lot of it was because he cared. She was pulled out of her thoughts by you asking about her and Legolas, heat rushing to the tips of her ears as you wondered whether they were together.

“The prince and I are good friends, my lady.” She insisted, though you could see her practically squirming. “We work well together, that is all... besides...” A soft frown found its way onto her expression that did not escape your notice. “The king would never allow...”

It was your turn to frown at that, the implication of her words not lost on you. “What do you mean?!” You exclaimed, unable to help yourself. “Why not?!” You couldn’t fathom any reason at all. Tauriel was beautiful and kind and courageous. The king would be lucky if she and Legolas became more than just friends.

“I am just a Silvan elf.” She said, turning to you and seeing the confusion in your eyes. “I am low born.” Tauriel explained. “I am not of royal blood or good breeding. I am not suitable.”

“But...” You shook your head, frowning. “You have a respected position here. Thranduil likes you. You are so important to the realm. You are high enough, surely, and you and Legolas... get on very well.”

Tauriel shrugged, though a little stunned that you had addressed the king by name. “It does not matter. It is just not how things are. I am not a suitable match.”

You stopped walking. “Should a suitable match not depend entirely upon feelings?” Surely the king had loved his own wife and gotten to choose her for himself so why should his son be any different?

Tauriel turned to you, watching you curiously as she wondered why you appeared to be so upset about this. She shrugged, resigned to it by now. “It is alright.”

But you would not be so easily quelled as you shook your head, frowning. “No, it isn’t.” You had always been quite the hopeless romantic. Your father said it came from your books, the way you devoured tales of lovers coming together to beat whatever odds were stacked against them, but you knew it also came from the way he had always spoken about your mother. You believed in love and thought it was one of the most precious and powerful things on Middle Earth. To deny it for any reason, especially one so silly, was such a foreign concept to you. It simply felt wrong.

“Do not trouble your mind about it.” Tauriel said kindly, reaching out to pat your arm with a small smile. She could tell something about it was upsetting you, though she could not fully understand. “I must get to work. I will see you later.”

When Thranduil found himself finally free of bothersome meetings and paperwork, he found his feet leading him in the direction of the library again. It wasn’t an entirely conscious decision as his legs seemed to lead him there of their own accord but he did not spend a great deal of time dwelling on it.

When he came to the door, he pushed inside, finding you curled up in a corner. However, he immediately sensed a tension as he moved into the room, curiousity as to the cause stirring in him.

You were frowning at the pages of the book that you had not been able to concentrate on all evening, your frustration only growing with each passing moment, however you had no idea why you were so unfocused. You could not piece together why your mind was so distracted and why you were feeling so irritable when you had been practically on cloud nine after lunch.

Thranduil moved to seat himself in one of the chairs, watching you for a moment as he plucked a book from the shelf next to him. “Enjoying your book?” He asked a moment later, thoughts of asking you how the rest of your day had gone disappearing as your frown seemed to deepen under his gaze.

“Not particularly.” Was all you said, shrugging. You didn’t look up at him and he found himself frowning at that fact, though immediately dismissing any thoughts about why it bothered him.

He eyed you for a moment, thinking that perhaps you were once more having a difficult time with being trapped here. He knew it probably would not just... disappear, though he hoped that you would come to feel more at home here. “Perhaps you wish to join me on a walk? The fresh air may do you some good.”

“I do not think you need to trouble yourself with what might do me good, my king.” You stated, standing up as he blinked back at you in bewilderment. “If you will excuse me, I am tired.” And you turned and walked from the room, leaving Thranduil staring after you in confusion, trying to understand what had caused this upset in such a short few hours.

Your footsteps carried you through the winding hallways back to your room. Your prison, you thought bitterly, though you reminded yourself that not that long ago you had started to change your view on that. You wanted nothing more than to go back into the library and apologise because, truly, you did not really know what had come over you. You had been in a strange mood since your conversation with Tauriel but you had not stopped to allow yourself time to properly think it over, to figure out what about it had actually set you off on such a spiral.

You pushed the door to your room open and stepped inside, feeling your heart sink into your shoes as you wondered if Thranduil would now punish you for your insolence. Sighing, you turned to go and change out of your day clothes, ready to just pass out and forget this whole evening, but paused when you spotted something from the corner of your eye.

Sitting on your bed, a package was waiting for you. Moving over, you sat down and unwrapped it. Your nimble fingers pulled back the covering and revealed a book beneath, but not just any old book. It was beautiful, a stunningly embellished cover binding the pages together. It was gorgeous, perhaps the most beautiful copy of any book you had ever seen in your life. It looked expensive. When you investigated further, you could have sworn your heart was about to beat right out of your chest.

It was, unmistakably, the story of Beren and Lúthien.

Your favourite tale. The one Vermund had completely ruined. The one you hadn’t been able to get another copy of since. The one you thought you might never read again for the rest of your days. The one you had told Thranduil about only two days ago during lunch.

Tears began to blur your vision as the realisation of what you were beginning to feel started to descend upon you. If Tauriel was so lowly and beneath Thranduil for his son despite all of her overwhelming, positive qualities... what must he think of you?

Thranduil had left the library not too long after you had, stalking his way through the halls towards his chamber. He found himself irritated by your sudden foul mood and he could not fathom what had caused it. Undoubtedly him but he could not think of a single thing that he had done. Had he not treated you with kindness? Been generous? Allowed you freedoms he probably should not have? Indulged you in ways he would not have indulged many others? He was annoyed because he had grown to enjoy your company and to be left in such a manner irked him when all he had wanted after the long meetings and droll paperworks was to spend time with you. What could have changed in the hours since lunch? He had not even been around to do or say anything wrong!

Legolas was walking to his own chamber at the same time, catching sight of his father as he rounded the corner. His smile vanished when he saw the look on Thranduil’s face and he wondered what had happened. He had heard no talk of orc scouts or new spider nests so he did not think it was related to border patrols this time around. As much as he wished to slip into his room and hide from whatever might have drawn his father’s ire this time, he stood firm and waited for the king to reach him.

“Something the matter, adar?” He wondered, watching Thranduil look up as if he had only just noticed his presence.

“I am fine.” Thranduil growled in return, sweeping past his son in search of his wine.

“How utterly convincing...” Legolas muttered to himself, though there was no doubt his father had heard him if the look he gave his son when Legolas followed him into his chamber was anything to go by.

“Father.” He said again, softer this time, and watched Thranduil’s shoulders sag just slightly in response to his pleading tone.

“It is that girl.” Thranduil muttered darkly. Legolas frowned at the tone and the way he was back to not calling you by name. Mere hours ago, the two of you had looked to be the best of friends and he was confused by the sudden turnaround but, as he studied his father’s expression, Legolas realised that he too was confused. He was hiding it, of course, but Legolas could see it. Legolas could always see it.

“What happened?” He asked, deciding to tread this road with caution and care, wishing that he could peek into his father’s mind.

“I do not know.” Thranduil stated, staring at the wall with a deep frown as he turned his bemusement over in his mind.

Legolas opened his mouth but then closed it, unsure what to say because he didn’t quite know what his father meant. “What do you mean you do not know?”

“I mean that I do not know!” Thranduil barked, rolling his eyes in frustration. Though his irritation was not really directed at his son, more so at the situation as a whole. At the fact that he could not figure out what he had done this time to upset you... and over the fact that this seemed to even matter to him at all.

Thranduil sighed, softening just a little as he downed the wine he had poured himself and set the goblet back down on the table. “I have obviously done something to upset her but I do not know what that could possibly be.”

Legolas blinked, staring at his father for a long moment before he spoke again. “And you... did not think to ask her?”

Thranduil turned his gaze upon his son, an incredulous expression spreading across his features. “Ask her?” He asked, staring at Legolas as though he had suddenly started speaking Dwarvish.

Legolas fought very hard not to let the tiniest hint of amusement crack his expression. His father’s face was an absolute picture. For all his wisdom, the thought had not even crossed his mind. “Yes, ada. Simply ask her if you have done something to upset her... and if you have, I am sure you can find a way to remedy it.” He offered Thranduil a soft smile. “I will see you in the morning.” He bowed his head and turned, leaving his father to his thoughts.

Thranduil watched his son go, a frown on his face. He thought back to the way you had left the library without so much as a glance at him, making it obvious that you had no desire to be around him and that he must have done something to upset you. It had not crossed his mind to follow you and ask what he had done. He had simply stormed away to drown himself in his own anger as he always did.

He stayed standing there for a long while, lost in thought, before he sighed heavily and turned to sweep out of the room and back down the hallway. He would never find rest if he did not figure this out.

You didn’t know why this had upset you so much. It wasn’t like you had... feelings for him! So why would it matter to you if he thought Tauriel too lowly for his son? If he thought you just a lowly human?

Staring at the book you were still holding, you couldn’t help the warmth spreading through you at the thought of him remembering this was your favourite story, of him seeing your upset at Vermund ruining your only copy, and of him seeking this obviously expensive edition out and gifting it to you. That meant he saw you as a friend, right? That he valued your company? That he listened to you? That he... cared?

You felt guilt tug at you as you realised that you had probably completely overreacted to nothing and lost the one thing that started to mean something to you in this dark and lonely, albeit beautiful, place.

Just as you thought this, the sound of a knock at the door caused you to jump. You heard your name from the other side of the closed door, in the distinctive baritone of Thranduil’s voice.

A brief spark of fear shot through your veins as your mind jumped immediately to the thought that he might be here to dole out a punishment or something, the tone of his voice being quite firm... he sounded detached.

“Come in.” You found yourself saying despite any fear, watching the door as it opened and Thranduil came strolling into the room.

He was silent for a long moment, moving over to the window and standing there, staring out into the night. When he turned back to you, you couldn’t decipher the look on his face. He still did not speak just yet, simply stared at you for another few suffocating seconds.

It was a few seconds too long as you couldn’t take it anymore. “I am sorry.” You said quickly, lowering your gaze to the book with a little sigh,.

Thranduil followed your gaze, his own softening just slightly as he recalled the day you had told him about the book. He sighed. “I thought perhaps it was me who should be apologising to you.”

Your head snapped up to look at him as you frowned, shaking your head. “Why?” You wondered, confused.

Thranduil merely shrugged in response. “Well, I was rather hoping that you would tell me.” He scanned your face, trying to read you like one would so easily read a book. “There must be some reason for your hasty departure from the library this evening.” From me, the words sat unspoken in his mind.

You realised that he thought that he had done something to upset you and you frowned. Had he? He had not said the words about Tauriel to you himself, you had not even asked him about any of it. You had gone around asking questions and if you did not like the answers, was it really his fault?

“No...” You shook your head, sighing again as you looked up at him. “I apologise, truly. It was nothing, you have done nothing. I was simply in a foul mood... some days I find myself tiring of the same hallways and the same rooms. It is nothing, I promise. I overreacted.” Telling him the truth might prompt him to question why you were so upset about it and you still genuinely could not fully come up with any words that could explain why it did.

Thranduil was quiet for a minute before he nodded slightly. “I see.” He moved away from the window towards you and for a moment you thought he might be about to reach for your hand but he didn’t. He looked at the book on the bed beside you and then back up at your face.

“Tomorrow we shall take lunch with a different view.” He told you, deciding it would help to get you out properly, not just in one of the enclosed gardens or his private dining hall.

Thranduil offered you a small smile and then he turned and pushed back out of the room, leaving you staring after him as he so often seemed to do.

[writer-room]

I know this is just beating a dead horse at this point but good god Warriors really does have so many opportunities to write all kinds of different complex tales and relationships, even just as shorts, and it makes me so so sad. Even just the smaller things, the ones that almost hilariously ignore the bigger plot going on around them.

We all know Breezepelt, but I personally wanna know about his kids! I want to know what kind of father he is to four whole daughters. He’s the guy known for having daddy issues, is he a terrible father? Is he just an okay one? Is he genuinely trying really hard to be good? I want to know!

What about the aftermath of Brokenstar’s reign? What happened to the apprenticed kits who survived the ordeal? Did they remain as paws but had an extended training time? Were they put back in the nursery and expected to just go on knowing what the outside world looked like until moons later? What about the apprentices named before they were adults, were they changed back to paws? What kind of generational trauma did ShadowClan carry from Brokenstar, from all the children who died and all the ones who grew up much too fast?

Dawnpelt was known for mainly one thing: the cat who believed, wholeheartedly, that Jayfeather killed Flametail. She is now also the mother of Sleekwhisker, a Darktail obsessed villain, Juniperclaw, who briefly joined Darktail, poisoned prey, and is now dead and guarding the border between StarClan and the Dark Forest. And then there’s Strikestone, who joined Darktail for a bit but then didn’t do much else except also die. Thats two children dead, one who is denied redemption despite his willingness to, and a third child whos very murderous. Does that not fuck someone up, at least a little?

Pouncestep is my personal favorite simply because she has become the background character in a family of main characters. Lightleap is slowly getting a little bit of spotlight thanks to Blazefire, but Pouncestep is just...there. Literally what is her life even like, watching all her important family members deal with the worst thing ever five times a week. Is she minding her own business. I hope she’s just vibing. I want a calm short with her ignoring all the plot.

Moonkitti brought this up already, but she was so right for it, cause...what about all the cats named in honor of the dead? Hollytuft? Sorrelstripe? Fernsong? Even new Bristlekit and Stemkit, and so many more---does that not mess with a cat? We know it messed with Nightheart, and while being named after and related to Firestar I’m sure does some things to a dude, we have other cats who do look eerily similar to who they’re named after. Lets not even start with Cinderheart. With this naming tradition becoming more and more common, one has to wonder if ThunderClan is gonna be filled to the brim with cats that have some INSANE identity issues.

[scourge-lover]

An Old Friend

Part of my next chapter. Still working on it but this part is done!

Sapphire reunites with a dear friend from her childhood.

Adalger frantically stumbled through the brambles and branches of the thick unnatural forest. Despite his desperation, He was not fast enough to evade Arthas. Violent magic yanked Adalger within reach of Arthas. He dragged the man into a very large clearing in Thros. Sapphire followed behind, panting from keeping up with her father's larger stride.

The Huntsman was shoved to the ground. Before he could react, Arthas took one of his simple swords and thrust it through the man's thigh. Adalger screamed in agony. To Sapphire's awe, she realized the femoral artery had been skillfully avoided.

"We had a deal!" Adalger snarled defiantly.

Arthas stood triumphantly over the pathetic man, a sadistic smile on his face.

"Perhaps you should have done a little research into my history. If you had, you would have known that betrayal is very typical of me."

Nonchalantly, Arthas brushed off some of the bile and sap from killing wicker creatures. He then tried to wipe some off Sapphire, but she pulled away from him. When he shrugged and turned his attention back to the man, Sapphire wiped off the stuff herself. It still felt too awkward for her whenever Arthas showed parental care.

Arthas demanded. "Where is Ethan?"

Sapphire opened her mouth, but Adalger interrupted with a pained laugh.

"I'm not going to tell you. You think I've so easily broken?"

Before Arthas could start a more thorough interrogation, Sapphire tugged at his cloak.

"We don't need to ask him. Bolfr taught me a spell for finding. I only need fresh blood."

Arthas looked impressed. "Well why didn't you say so earlier?"

He did not waste any time pulling out a knife and grabbing Adalger's arm. One quick slash produced the fresh blood needed, to the Huntsman's increased discomfort. Sapphire soaked her fingers in blood and scrawled out the simple spell in the ground. Bolfr had been an excellent teacher.

"Think of Ethan and press your hand to the spell circle," Sapphire spoke clearly and decisively.

Arthas gestured to Adalger.

"You'll be alright here?"

After she nodded confidently, Arthas did as he was directly. The spell glowed cobalt blue and black. It condensed into a bloody orb that floated up a few feet up. It soon zipped off to where Ethan was.

As Arthas left, Adalger seemed to figure out what was going on. And this time, his amusement laugh rang throughout the woods.

"He's leaving me to you? The little brat? What are you going to do, little Kalma? Bite my ankles? Tell me what a bully I am?"

Sapphire casually clasped her hands behind her back, standing up straighter.

Her lips twitched into a smile. "Oh, me? I won't do anything to you."

Thud. Thud.

Adalger did not notice at first. He still was high from his misguided arrogance.

"Aww, are you going to forgive me like you forgave your daddy? Here, I'll say sorry even. I'm so sorry for being so mean to you," He chuckled darkly.

Thud. Thud.

Now he looked confused as he heard and even felt it. Sapphire bounced up and down with anticipation.

Thud. Thud.

"You see, I had to ask the new Lich King for a favor. Took him a little convincing but I really have missed my friend. He needed to be unthawed though, and that's why it took him so long to get here. I was afraid he wouldn't fit in the portal to Thros you made!"

Thud. Thud.

Sapphire did not need to see her friend appear from the mists behind her. She only needed to see the look on Adalger's face. The light drained from his eyes as he looked upon an incomprehensible horror. His mouth gaped. His very skin became a sickly pale green.

"Tiny Saphi! Where you been? Missed you! Patchwerk want to play!"

Sapphire turned and looked up at her towering friend with a genuine smile. The loose intestines hanging out of the abominations guts, and the pus stained stitchwork never bothered her. She was never deterred from Patchwerk's appearance.

"I've missed you too, Patch! Why don't we play with this man?"

The abomination's mouth widened into a greasy smile.

[thisuserislilsilly]

These series of Tales come from the farthest locations of The North; where once the House of the Vanreyk served as a vassal to the Stark Household in the time known as "House of Dragons". This series will be updated whenever this humble bartender can find more texts about them; for now please do enjoy:

Brothers despite all

"I have never hurt anyone. Yes, I’ve killed and I’ve damaged but those are things that you can overcome. Mentally, however, I’ve harmed no one but myself.”

He paused and took a sip of the whiskey in his glass. The room was quiet and it smelled faintly of old books and aged paper. He was surrounded by a circle of old men in comfortable chairs, all with similar glasses in their hands. They looked at each other whispering their own opinions on the matter but waiting for him to continue.

He was the youngest man in the circle, if you could call him a man. He was barely 20 years old and already was being faced with the decision that would shape the rest of his rule over Highburn Fortress and the lands around it.

Rud moved his cup gently with two fingers, spinning it in place as his mind wondered in what to do. His older brother Gorald had just sacked an entire small village leaving only one man alive, who had arrived at the Fortress a couple of days later, bloody and out of breath; the news had quickly spread through the nobles and the common folk alike. All eyes were eagerly placed on the new ruler, Rud, as to what his reaction would be.

In turn, Rud had called upon his advisors, a group of old men, all experts in their field, for a meeting.

He took another sip of the whiskey and looked up at them, one by one. They were loyal and had known him since he was a child, first obeying his father for then later doing the same with the son; every man present knew the difficulty of the decision Rud was having trouble to express, Gorald despite being the oldest had been shunned from the Vanreyk's home when the kid was old enough to understand the why's and the how's of that expulsion and old enough too to understand the injustice that had fell upon him and that benefited Rud, his new brother.

But now Rud was in charge and he needed to react to Gorald's actions.

A man coughed and brought Rud back to reality. He placed his empty glass on a nearby table and stood up, cleared his throat and inhaled deeply, the first words that came out of his lips were shaky

"Prepare the saddle on my horse. Today I shall join my army and lead them" In total silence, Rud walked down the steps of his throne and left the room, fighting the tears that had gathered in his eyes

●●●

The sun shone brightly and the day was warm. The smell of burned flesh was carried by the wind and reached his nostrils, a shiver went through his spine. He saw the charred bodies of men, women, and children scattered across the ground, black smoke rose from some of them. The land was seemingly deserted and abandoned, but Rud knew his brother wasn't too far away from there; the scouts had spoken about a nearby camp that had stayed in the forest for a couple of days now that perfectly matched the timeline of events with his advance. Gorald was smart, perhaps even more so than Rud in terms of warfare and psychological warfare; the attack on the village had been calculated and cold-blooded, it wasn't the first time the man had done something like this, and it wasn't going to be the last.

On top of a nearby hill the figure of Gorald was made visible after a few minutes, sitting on a rock and drinking a cup of ale, in such a casual manner that bordered being disrespectful.

"So! My little brother finally decided to stop hiding amongst the walls of daddy's home!" Gorald deep voice echoed through the landscape.

Rud frowned, unsheathed his blade and lifted it until it was pointing at the traitor "For the blood that binds us, if you surrender I shall see your life spared!"

The ruler only received a long, exaggerated laugh in return "The only thing we will share, brother, is the battlefield where we'll die on!"

As Gorald's words hung in the air, tension crackled between the brothers like electricity before a storm. Gorald rose from his seat, his eyes glinting with a mixture of defiance and determination. The wind picked up, carrying with it the scent of impending conflict.

Without another word, Gorald drew his own axe, a wickedly sharp blade that seemed to reflect the very darkness in his soul. The two brothers stood facing each other, the weight of their shared past and diverging paths heavy between them.

The first clash of steel rang out like a thunderclap, setting the stage for the rest of their forces to violently clash with one another. Rud's movements were precise and calculated, a reflection of his disciplined training, while Gorald fought with a wild, almost feral ferocity that spoke of years spent surviving in the harsh wilderness.

Their blades danced in a deadly duet, each strike and parry a testament to the matched skills of each Vanreyk and the resilience that coursed through their veins. The clash of metal, the grunts of exertion, and the occasional roar of defiance filled the air, drowning out all other sounds.

As the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows over the battlefield, the fate of their duel was still not clear, both armies were now suffering the effects of fatigue , and neither had the upper hand yet.

It happened slowly, but suddenly, the fight became obvious. Both parties had been fighting all day and they had lost count of the number of deaths, wounds, and injuries inflicted by the opposing armies. Both sides began to slow down, exhaustion catching up with them and now the living were collapsing to the ground, some of them witnessing the still n-going duel of the Vanreyks.

After one decisive slash at his stomach Gorald's face contorted in pain, his hand loosened the grip on the handle of his axe, causing the weapon to slip from his hand and fall to the grass with a thunk. His breathing grew erratic and labored, his body shaking from the effort, but he continued standing with vigor. Rud was pretty much in the same situation, his breathing grew harder, faster and his grip on his sword began to falter.

When his opponent raised his axe once again, he couldn't take anymore, he collapsed to his knees. Rud watched as Gorald laid on the ground looking up at his younger brother, a tiny smirk formed in his lips

"Come on...finish it-" He mumbled, gasping for air.

As Rud stood before his fallen brother, he couldn't bring himself to deliver the final blow. Anguish clouded his eyes as he gazed down at Gorald, the one who shared his blood, the one that had played with him in the short amount of childhood they had shared.

The battle had taken its toll, not just physically, but emotionally as well.

Gorald's gaze met Rud's, a mixture of pain and shock in his eyes. "Why?" he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely above a breath. "Why spare me?!? I will kill you if you do this, I'll keep going until you see all of what you love burned into the ground! I WILL-!"

Rud's grip on his sword tightened, the weight of his decision heavy upon his shoulders. "Because you're my brother," he whispered, sheathing his sword much to the shock for every soldier present

The raiders under Gorald command that could still walk quickly picked him off from the ground, defensively holding their weapons high if any soldier of the ruler had any ideas of chasing them down. Gorald eyes were still staring at his younger brother as he was dragged away. Rud sighed relieved and tired, turning back to see his men

"Now...we go home" He ordered, refusing to explain anything to anyone throughout the whole journey back to Highburn Fortress.

Gorald raids on Highburn stopped for the next following years, only robbing and ambushing caravans to survive and keep his warband well maintained. Rud words would come to him in those long nights on watch duty, and the scar on his stomach a reminder of that battle forever.

[crystalirises]

Phil is a famous and powerful Vampire Hunter with three sons, Wilbur, Tommy and Techno. One night Wilbur gets kidnapped by a vampire, he gets turned into a vampire but for years he has hope his father or twin would come to save him. His family never comes, he eventually gives up on hope and around this time he falls in love with another Vampire named George. They want to have a kid but they can't make one themself, so they surprise adopt Fundy. One of the vampire hunters SBI comes to help and everything goes downhill from here.

also thanks for the great writing

Y O U

I don't know who you are, but I love this prompt so much. Like, I want to confess right now that I actually have like... four (???) vampire AUs that all concern Georgebur + Sondy. I just haven't written them cause well, I just talked about them with a friend and 'm lazy to write XD.

But this prompt. YESSSSSSSSSSSS.

It literally just has everything. Wilbur's daddy issues and abandonment issues. Georgebur. Fundy. Surprise Adoption (Kidnapping). Vampires.

Love it.

Anyway, warnings: Blood, Violence, General Vampire Warnings, Possible Kidnapping, Mentions of Death, Abandonment Issues, Grief, and Suicidal Themes

Hope you like this!

“Eret? W-wha…? It’s the middle of the fucking night, man!”

Wilbur rubbed at his eyes, his friend’s hunched silhouette illuminated by the window.

They didn’t respond, and Wilbur could hear alarm bells ringing in the back of his mind.

He climbed out of bed, taking quick notice of the empty bed on the other side of the room. Techno and Phil must be out. Wilbur tried not to let it hurt him as much, his attention focused on his best friend who hadn’t made a single twitch or move ever since they’d climbed through his bedroom window. Worry settled in his gut, a heavy weight settling over his throat, making it hard to breathe. He stepped closer, the faint scent of metal piercing through the air. Wilbur nearly gagged, pressing a hand to his mouth and nose. Blood. He glanced down at the carpeted floor, goosebumps running down his skin as he gazed at the dark pool that was forming beneath Eret.

“ERET!” Wilbur gripped his friend by the shoulders, “What happened?!”

“Wil…?” Eret practically collapsed against him, hands clinging to the back of his shirt like their life depended on it. Underneath the darkness of the room, Wilbur could hardly look Eret in the eyes. Eret shook within his hold, almost like they were struggling against some force. “N-n-no!”

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?! Who did this?!” Wilbur pulled Eret away, but their head was leaned against his shoulder, their breath cold against his neck. It was difficult to see, but after a moment, he found the source of Eret’s pain. There was a dagger lodged against their back, just a few inches off Eret’s heart. He felt a panic course through him. Should he fucking pull it out?! He wasn’t a fucking healer, what the fuck was he supposed to do?! “Shit, shit, shit, fuck, um… I…”

His fingers grasped at the leather hilt, his mind screaming at him to do something, anything! Wilbur took a moment to listen to Eret’s breathing, their shallow breaths were mere puffs against his skin. He could feel Eret’s blood between his fingers, somehow, the blade hadn’t stopped the bleeding. Wilbur made a choice. He wouldn’t let his best friend bleed out. “I’m so sorry, Eret.”

Wilbur pulled the blade, wincing at the squelch of flesh and blood that resonated through the room. It was easy to ignore, since Eret let out the most unholy screech that Wilbur had ever heard in his life. He shuddered at the scream, the pain within its shriek. He swore that it sounded like— Eret collapsed against him, unconscious, but their breath had regained normalcy. Wilbur hesitantly held onto them, attention turning to the blade that he’d pulled from his best friend. Their village wasn’t the safest place, but one could usually walk around without being stabbed.

He held the dagger, blood still sticky against the skin of his palm. Wilbur brought the blade closer, eyes narrowing. It was a blade made of pure silver, the hilt dyed pink with a pink ribbon tied to one end. A chill ran down his spine. He adjusted the dagger, looking at the bottom of the hilt. A silver crow stared back at him. It was his dad’s symbol, but it was Techno’s blade.

He dropped the blade just as a searing pain tore through his throat.

He screamed, sharp teeth biting deeper into his skin.

Jagged claws gripped at the back of his shirt, an inhumane growl tearing through the air as Eret suddenly pushed him to the ground, holding him still as they continued to feed on his blood.

His mind turned to fog, but he could hear the slam of a door in the distance… 

“WILBUR!” Someone screamed. But he was dragged away. And then there was nothing.

---

“I’m sorry…”

It was the first thing Eret had told him once he’d woken up, and they’d been saying it ever since.

“Sorry doesn’t change me back, Eret. Sorry doesn’t make me any less of a monster than you!”

“I didn’t mean to, Wilbur!” Eret wrapped their arms around themself, “I was tired and injured.”

“Of course you were fucking injured!” He hissed out, “You deserved to be!”

“I know.” Eret hung their head, “I know, Wilbur. I’ve known that all my life.”

“Then you should have given yourself the mercy of death the moment you first turned!”

“You don’t think I tried?!” They both took a breath. They stood in one of the many great halls of Eret’s home, a castle hidden deep within the forest, far from the prying gaze of any mortal. Eret gestured to the portraits of vampires before them, vampires that were absent from the castle. Wilbur and Eret were the only ones in the castle, and in the past few months, Wilbur wondered where Eret’s servants were. Where were the butlers? The maids? The human bloodbanks? “I’m not ancient, but I might as well be. I come from a long ancestry of vampires, but it wasn’t by choice, Wilbur. My… sire… he was cruel, but he cared for me too much to let me go and die.”

“Where’s your sire now?”

“I don’t know.” Shame danced across Eret’s face, “But I know that I fear death to try again.”

“So you’d rather drink the blood of the innocent? You’d rather be a monster?!”

“It’s been so long, Wilbur. I don’t recall what it is even like to be human.” It was an odd confession, one filled with so much heart that if Wilbur didn’t know that vampires didn’t have beating hearts, he might have fallen for the trick. He scowled instead, disgust ripping throughout his whole being. To think they’d been his closest friend. Instead, they’d turned and betrayed him by turning him into a parasite like them. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. But I get so hungry—”

“Then fucking control it!” It was unreasonable, and they both knew that. Wilbur should know, in the first few days since he’s turning, he kept attacking Eret since his new stomach needed his sire’s blood. He’d gotten better control… but sometimes the hunger would take over him again. Eret never complained. Not like they had any right to, after all, this mess was their fucking fault.

“My dad will come for me.” Wilbur spoke softly, “And when he does, I hope he kills us both.”

“I hope not.” Eret shuddered, “In truth, Wilbur. I don’t want to die.” Wilbur didn’t care.

---

“You’re new. Intriguing, but a bit too humanlike for my taste.”

He groaned, burying his head in his hands. Eret had apologized, but for the evening they were meant to host a gathering for the renowned vampire families within the continent. Wilbur had been forced to wear a yellow suit that had a collar that scratched and irritated his neck. After an hour of being gazed and prodded at, he’d had enough of the gathering and had snuck away to a secluded balcony. Fuck Eret’s reputation. Unfortunately, a nuisance had followed after him.

“What, and humans are as good as livestock for you?”

“What of you? Do you understand that not all vampires kill those that they feed upon?”

“Doesn’t change that you’re all bloodsucking leeches.” He huffed, turning away to gaze into the distance. In the forest, one could see the stars of the night, but the only lights Wilbur wanted to see were of a village far, far away. It’s been years. Phil wasn’t coming for him. Neither was Techno. He rubbed at his wrists, the silence felt nice… but he knew the other vampire hadn’t left.

“That’s your issue. You still act human when you’re no longer one. Haven’t you understood that you’re trapped just like the rest of us… well, the rest of them?” The stranger moved to stand next to him, placing their arms against the cold stone banister. Wilbur took a moment to glance over, his breath catching in his throat. A pair of warm chocolate eyes stared up at him curiously. The stranger wore a light blue suit, and despite Wilbur’s assumption that all vampires were tall, this stranger was short… shorter than Wilbur. He was dressed finely, carrying himself with a strong elegance that only years of nobility could give. The only oddity was the goggles around his neck.

“...what do you mean?”

“I’ve been alive for centuries.” The stranger sighed, “I’m one of the ancients.”

“So you’ve turned many innocents into monsters.” The stranger let out a low laugh, mirthless and tired. It sounded like they’ve been told the same accusation before. Wilbur squirmed right where he stood. In truth, the stranger was far from what he expected an Ancient Vampire to be. Phil had told them that Ancient Vampires were powerful, and that they barely even looked human at all. His dad had never been wrong… and he would never lie. “But you look… normal.”

“Humans and exaggerations.” The stranger rolled his eyes, arching a brow at Wilbur. “Why do you cling to human beliefs? In the end they are inferior… and some are monsters themselves.”

“That’s not true.”

“What? Do you believe that all human misery stems from the existence of vampires?”

The stranger sighed, casting his gaze to the heavens. “Think. Aren’t we all monsters in our own ways?” He paused, catching Wilbur’s eye. “Vampires, humans… we all are monsters. A vampire who kills for the sake of killing and a father who abandons his son to die… both monsters, hm?”

He stayed silent for a long while, letting his heart finally crack under the truth. “I’m Wilbur.”

The stranger scoffed, a smile playing on his lips. “I’m George Lore. A pleasure to meet you.”

---

“He’s an actual angel.”

Wilbur watched his husband cradle the human boy that they had taken from a nearby village, the poor baby looked pale, his breath coming out in short huffs. George had wrapped an orange ribbon around their son’s neck, concealing the bite marks that would begin their son’s transformation. He had wanted to turn the boy himself, but George had intervened. Wilbur had only been a vampire for ten years, he wouldn’t have the self-control to simply bite and not feed.

“He bumped into me.” Wilbur chuckled, “I just knew he was perfect.”

‘It had been odd. His father had stated once before that vampires couldn’t walk underneath the sunlight, but that had been a terrible misconception, one that Eret and George had both laughed at. The idea had stemmed from - actually, they were an ancestor of Eret - a vampire who had had a very dramatic reaction to the sun after decades of being chained inside an underground vault.

Wilbur laughed mirthlessly. Another lie. Maybe vampire hunters were just full of shit.

He walked through the bustling streets of the city, his pace slow and relaxed. He’d gone with Eret to procure a few fruits from the village market, but while Eret’s back was turned, Wilbur snuck away to have a morning stroll around the wooden buildings and through the small alleyways.

Wilbur had slipped into an alleyway when a bright orange blur bumped right onto him. If he had been human, he would have continued on, slightly irritated but unaware of the crime that had just been committed. But he hadn’t been human for so long, and the world to him was a swirl of motion and color. Slow, the present quickly melting into the past. He gripped the hand that had snuck into his pocket, his vice-like grip nearly bruising as he pulled the orange blur to face him. A pained whine escaped the thief, small and so childlike that Wilbur had nearly let them go then and there. He kept his mercy at bay, eyes narrowed dangerously at the cretin who had dared to—

Wide brown eyes flecked with gold stared up at him in fear. The child had collapsed completely in Wilbur’s hold, practically hanging against the hand that was curled around his wrist. Wilbur adjusted his grasp, easing up so as not to hurt the poor child. But he’d been a bit too late. A river of tears cascaded down the child’s cheeks, small whimpers piercing through the quiet air.

“I’m sorry!” The child continued to cry, “Please don’t hurt me! I just… I was so hungry…”

“You were hungry?” The question only made them cry even louder. “Oh no, it’s alright. Shhhh.”

He kneeled so that he was at face-level with the child. “What’s your name, champ?”

“F-Fundy…” The boy sniffed, wiping his nose on the tattered sleeve of his black jacket. Wilbur took in the child’s clothes, the dirt that clung to pale skin… Wilbur didn’t need to ask to know. He gently let go of the child, careful to keep a hand on the child’s back so that he wouldn’t immediately try to run away. Fundy didn’t move, his bottom lip trembling. Wilbur continued to shush him, moving the child so that he was closer to him, enough for Wilbur to catch him in case he tried to run away. Fundy was hungry. Wilbur knew a thing or two about hunger. The boy was still staring at him. He made a quick decision. Wilbur smiled. He and George did want a kid…’

“He was hungry. I couldn’t just leave him, love.”

Wilbur approached George, his husband had placed Fundy back on the huge bed that seemed to swallow him. He was so small. He ran a hand through their son’s curly hair, catching George’s eye as his husband bit into his wrist. Newly made vampires needed their sire’s blood to survive.

“Well,” George placed his wrist above Fundy’s lips. “He won’t go hungry now that we’re here.”

---

Techno sharpened his dagger.

The glow of the fire illuminated the monster’s face, the dark blood that pooled against their pale skin a constant reminder that the person before him was nothing more than a bloodsucking leech upon humanity. He sheathed his dagger, a part of him eager to pierce through the vampire’s skin and tear out their heart. He couldn’t, not yet. They were bait for the Ancient. His actual target.

“He won’t come,” the vampire muttered. “Not for me. We aren’t kin… o-or are you—?”

“I’m here for Lore.” Techno huffed, “Not Brine.”

The beast raised their gaze, the warm fire somehow weaker against the light of their pure white eyes. It was the mark of the Brine Vampire Clan, powerful ancient vampires that once brought chaos upon the world. But to Techno, this particular vampire was more damning than any other vampire in existence. He knew their face, he knew their name. Wilbur had trusted them once, and look where that had gotten him. Mutilated somewhere, a decomposing corpse that would never find its way back home. “You haven’t killed me yet. I would have thought that you…”

“I wish I’d killed you those years ago.” He had been so close. A few inches off the heart. If only his aim hadn’t been so shaky back then, then maybe Wilbur would still be… “I wish I did.”

Tommy had hated him for being late. Their relationship had never recovered after that fateful night. If Techno hadn’t hesitated. If Techno hadn’t froze the moment he realized where the vampire had run off to. If Techno had run just a bit faster. By the time he reached their house, Tommy had collapsed by his and Wilbur’s bedroom door, skin so pale that Techno worried that the vampire had gotten him too. He’d taken one look at the empty bedroom, the white curtains billowing as the night air came from the open window, dark blood left to dry on the carpet. He’d known. He’d known back then. His twin was gone. Devoured by a beast that he’d failed to kill.

“Techno, I am sorry. I can’t help what I am. You injured me, I was injured, bleeding, and scared. My instincts took over. I never meant to hurt anyone. I never meant to hurt Wil.” His hand clenched against the hilt of his blade. He would not listen to such lies. Twenty years. Twenty years since the monster before him took away his twin brother. Twenty years of blaming himself for failing. Phil never blamed him, of course his dad would never blame him. But on bad days, Phil would confuse him for Wilbur finally come back to them. That’s why he’d dyed his hair.

“Senseless apologies do not bring the dead back to life. It does not mend the frayed relationships of a broken family. It does not erase the years of guilt and sorrow. It does not erase the hurt that you caused. You took away a life, and I should take away yours. Wilbur wouldn’t have wanted me to. He was our family’s poet, the one who could see the beauty of the world despite the monsters that lurked within it. I should kill you for the pain you’ve caused my family.” Techno’s hand trembled. The beast stared at him through the orange flame, a perplexed look crossing their face. Of course, they wouldn’t understand human grief. “I’ll have your head after I have Lore’s.”

He took a deep breath. If there had been any other vampire that could bait the Ancient, then Techno would have gladly used them instead. Being around this particular vampire brought forth emotions that he’d buried years ago. There was still a question that was poised at the tip of his tongue, an urge to ask what Eret had done to his twin’s corpse. Had they buried him? Or had they left Wilbur to rot until nature consumed every piece of his body? He wanted to know, but he feared that the vampire would mock him. So, he kept his question unasked. Ignorance was bliss.

---

“Techno.” He froze, hands poised over the silver-lined ropes that kept Eret’s hands tied behind their back. Wilbur had snuck closer into the empty camp, ears desperately trying to catch every little noise, but the fire had rendered his efforts useless. Techno had used the crackle of wood to disguise his footsteps, using it to sneak behind Wilbur, a familiar blade pressed to the side of his neck. The dagger wavered, but it stayed where it was. He took a chance to look behind him.

It was like looking at a mirror, except he didn’t have pink hair. “Wilbur…?”

A flicker of disbelief danced in those emotionless eyes, it surprised him. A part of him looked at his twin, and he could almost feel his old human heart beat inside his chest. He wanted to reach out, pull his brother into a tight embrace. Techno had grown up… and Wilbur knew he was the same age he was when he’d been turned. He was happy to see Techno again, but… the blade lowered from his neck. Yet Techno hesitated. Suddenly, all the bitterness and pain came surging back. Techno didn’t care for him. To his twin brother, he was nothing but another beast to slay.

He gripped the hilt of the dagger, twisting it away from his brother’s grasp before Techno could even fight back. His family had left him for dead. And now Techno was here to kill Eret and George, maybe he’d end up harming Fundy too. Wilbur can’t have that. He won’t lose his family.

Wilbur bared his fangs, “I’ll kill you. Take a single step, Technoblade, and I will tear you open.”

=============================================================

I didn’t mean to... but like, midway while I was writing this I suddenly decided “nah, don’t make the vampires so one-dimensional.” So yeah, a lot of misconceptions on the side of vampire hunters regarding vampires but some vampires still do kill people and most still see themselves as superior to humans. 

Also, yes. Eret is the vampire who took Wilbur because I wanted a bit of angst and I was like: “Hey, make Eret’s betrayal here be the fact that he and Wil are best friends but turns out Eret is a vampire.” Eret never meant to turn Wilbur, but it ended up happening anyway.

Now... about Fundy’s turning... I will leave that ambiguous. While he is in fact an orphan and lives in the streets, it was never mentioned here whether or not he agreed to being turned into a vampire.

Also also, I wasn’t gonna add Techno’s pov but like... “I Didn’t Say Goodbye” from The Mad Ones started playing and I was just: okay, Techno angst time.

I apologize for not adding Tommy but I didn’t know where to put him XD

So yeah, hope you guys liked this!

[vennilavee]

starry eyes

pairing: levi x reader (moon/stars universe) ft kaiya and rina!! summary: some moments through your pregnancy with baby Peach. warnings: pregnancy, cursing, details of a difficult pregnancy, c-section delivery, blood mention a/n: for this drabble prompt req “give me more picking out baby names, painting nurseries, and cradling their children. For moon and stars please”. but it ended up being 2.6k. i didn’t include the part about painting nurseries bc i want that to be it’s own drabble/part of another part of the story!

“Do you think we should have Peach share a room with Kaiya when she’s old enough?” You muse, “We only have our bedroom and Kaiya’s…”

Levi hums and scratches his chin. He absently places a hand over your growing belly- you’ve only started showing in the last week or two.

“Kaiya will be five years older than Peach,” Levi says, “She will need her own space.”

“Then we need more space,” You say with a raise of your eyebrow, “We only have two bedrooms, baby.”

“What shitty timing,” Levi sighs, throwing his head back against the headboard of the bed, “Is this a good time to move into another house? We haven’t even started looking-”

“We can either do it now or when Peach is a few months old,” You say, leaning your head on his shoulder, “You and Erwin spent so much time decorating Kaiya’s room and painting the walls…”

“We can do that at the new house,” Levi says, “And Kai can do it with us.” He kisses your forehead and continues rubbing your belly absently.

“Are we making this decision too quickly? Shouldn’t we think about it more,” You wonder out loud.

“We need more space,” Levi says simply, “We got a baby coming. Or did you forget?”

“How could I forget?” You roll your eyes, “You knocked me up. Again.”

“Shut up,” Levi rolls his eyes and pulls you in for a kiss. And then flicks your forehead.

House hunting was a much quicker affair than you had anticipated it to be- Levi had a sixth sense for this type of thing (and it had long begun to rub off on you, too). You had been looking at houses with Kaiya for about two months now, without any luck of a space that you could truly see yourself living in with your family.

Kaiya dutifully holds your hand as she explores the new kitchen, peering into the glossy, light green cabinets and giggling when she sees her reflection in a small mirror.

She gasps when she sees the size of the backyard, bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly. “Mommy, look ousside,” She whispers, “Pwetty.”

“It is, isn’t it?” You reply, giving her a smile.

Levi has a mental checklist of questions to ask, and you do too, but he can see you falling in love with the house already. It’s cute and has charm- he can tell you’re already envisioning where Kaiya and the currently unnamed baby would play in the living room, where you’d set up your sewing materials…

Because he’s thinking about the same. He’s thinking about what Kaiya might want to paint her walls and how to set up the new baby’s room, about where his wine collection might go and his favorite leather chair.

Sometimes when you know, you just know. He has a good feeling about this place and the more the real estate agent tells you both, the more you subtly fall in love with the house. You feel like you’re a character in a small fairytale when you climb the staircase and get a view of the yard from the bedroom.

“Honey,��� You say softly, tugging on his sleeve.

“Hmm,” He says and scoops Kaiya in his arms when she lifts her arms up.

“Daddy, mommy say she like it,” Kaiya whispers. Or attempts to.

“Oh, is that what mommy said?” Levi says, eyes lit up with amusement.

“Kiki, tell daddy that mommy loves the house very much.”

“Daddy, mommy say-”

“Daddy likes the house, too,” Levi says and you beam at him.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Really!” Kaiya exclaims, her arms outstretched.

And that’s that.

Moving and settling the paperwork had taken another month despite Levi’s attempts on speeding up the process. You had insisted on helping with the physical labor of moving, despite Erwin, Hange, Eren, Jean, Armin, Connie, Sasha and Mikasa volunteering to help you and Levi move.

Kaiya sat on one of the boxes that Jean and Eren carried out of the current apartment with a yellow hard hat on her head, directing them outside of the apartment to stack the boxes by the elevator.

“Baby,” You mumble, tugging Levi’s hand, “A house. We bought a house together.”

“Yeah,” Levi says, “Guess I’m stuck with you now, huh?”

You ignore him and peck his cheek. Your eyes have been watering on and off all day, memories of this apartment and of the initial stages of your relationship blossoming hidden in the spaces between the walls, between each shelf and cabinet.

“We fell in love here,” You say thickly, “We created love here.”

“We did,” Levi says softly, rolling his thumb over your hand, “Kaiya started walking right over there-” He points to the empty space of the living room, “You broke a wine glass over here-” He points to the space where the small dining table used to be, “And Kaiya’s birthdays were here…”

“Stop,” You complain, “I’m gonna cry again.”

Levi lets out a soft chuckle, “The new house is gonna have all of that and more. With this kid.” Levi palms your belly and kisses your temple.

Your second trimester, as it was with Kaiya, is relatively easy in comparison to the first trimester. You and Levi take the ease that comes with the second trimester to plan out what the nursery in the new house will look like when the baby is old enough to sleep alone. 

The new house is a cozy four bedroom house (complete with a guest room) and plenty of room for play and relaxation. You had converted one of the rooms on the first floor into a small office for Levi, as he was able to work from home more often than you were.

Kaiya had demanded that her room be space themed. So you and Levi had painted her bedroom a pretty pale blue, decorated with glow in the dark stars and planets across her ceiling and the walls. A grey full moon hangs on one of the walls, along with frames of the planets, galaxies and Kaiya’s own drawings of the solar system (and really whatever else she wants). 

She had even painted some stars on the side of the wall where her bed is, with Erwin’s help. Her bedding is navy blue with gold stars printed on it and of course, she has her stuffed elephant, her stuffed sun and her stuffed moon on her bed. A galaxy projector sits on her nightstand, and she loves to turn it on when Levi reads her a bedtime story.

Seeing her reaction made you cry, too.

Now was the hard part. Determining what to paint the walls for the growing peach in your belly. You and Levi go back and forth on muted yellow, olive green, and pale green-

“Do you want Peach to think they’re in a forest?”

“But green is such a calming color!”

“So is yellow, yellow is happy-”

“You think a newborn baby will know that?”

“We should create an atmosphere of relaxation and happiness-”

In the end you and Levi decide on a yellow and green theme, with accents of grey. Compromise. You both decide to hold off on painting the walls, until Peach is a little older to decide on what they want to accent the walls. Kaiya’s old crib sits in your bedroom for when Peach arrives, which somehow feels like it’s creeping up on you but still so far away.

Your second trimester is when you can’t get enough of Levi- every small action he does, whether it’s cooking dinner, putting things away from unpacked boxes or giving you a foot rub- makes you want to jump his bones every chance you get.

You’re glad your man can keep up with you. And Levi makes it well known how much he loves you and loves your body. He always has a hand on your hips, your waist, your chest whenever he can.

You bask in the attention. Your skin glows, your hair is healthy and your nails full.

And then the third trimester comes, and it’s possibly the most difficult experience you’ve ever had to stomach. The third trimester is complete with backaches, frequent heartburn, varicose veins and mood swings that give Levi whiplash.

Your mood swings weren’t this intense with Kaiya. But he knows every pregnancy is different. You’re uncomfortable in your own skin and distressed and so tired in the last few months.

In the last few months, you and Levi settle on a name- you’d found out that Peach was in fact a baby girl, and Kaiya was upset that she wouldn’t be able to refer to her baby sister as Peach any longer-

“Let’s name my sissy ‘Berry’ then.”

“That’s not any better than Peach, honey.”

In the end, after a few weeks of deliberating, you decide on Rina Ackerman. You had tossed around the idea of naming her after Levi’s mother, Kuchel, but Levi shot it down. He didn’t want his kids to have the burden of living up to a legacy that they knew nothing about.

You could understand that.

Levi and Kaiya help where they can. Levi holds you when you cry and he rubs your belly and your back when it gets to be too much. You tell him that this baby feels different, that you’re scared. So when you start having contractions about four weeks too early, you’re not surprised. 

You scream and you cry, terrified that something’s gone wrong when you spot blood pooling on the bed. Levi looks at you with wide eyes before jumping into action quickly.

He holds your hand tightly, grateful that Kaiya is with his mom and Kenny for the day.

Once you reach the hospital, you’re a mess, almost refusing to let the doctors look at you. You’re terrified that something awful and terrible has happened, and Levi looks you in the eye with your hands tight in his-

“You can do this. You have to do this. For Rina. She needs you.”

“She’s too early, Levi, I can’t-”

“She’s strong. Like her mother.”

In the end, Rina is delivered via an emergency C-section. Levi only sees and holds her impossibly tiny body for a moment before she starts to cry and she’s whisked away by the nurses and doctors. You’re still sedated in the hospital bed.

He sits in the blue plastic chair in your room and holds his head in his hands. 

It’s hard for Levi to believe that that melancholy morning in the hospital was a little over two years ago. When he sees his youngest little girl, strong and quick on her feet, being chased by her older sister, he can’t believe that she came out into the world in such a difficult manner.

You like to joke and say that Rina is a troublemaker and she liked causing a scene right from the first breath of air she took.

Levi feels like his heart stops whenever he sees Rina fall or nearly injure herself. It’s different than it was with Kaiya- maybe because he was the only one who saw her struggle to breathe during her first moments. It’s hard for him to lose the overprotectiveness he has with Rina that didn’t necessarily exist with Kaiya. Of course, he was protective over his oldest, but it just feels different.

He doesn’t want Kaiya to feel like Levi has favoritism over his two best girls. But he can’t shake this feeling.

You recognize it in his eyes even if he says nothing. You see it in the shine of his grey irises, the way they’re panicked only for a millisecond when he hears Rina’s first cry whenever she falls.

The Ackerman family is currently in the backyard, on a nice summer evening. You’re sitting on a picnic blanket with your legs outstretched and a small smile on your face as you watch your babies run around and chase each other. Rina is still clumsy on her feet, almost waddling after Kaiya before she gets distracted by a patch of grass. She immediately plops down and pats the grass under her and pulls at the grass as hard as she can, throwing the pieces up in the air and squealing happily.

“Kaiya!” Rina exclaims, “Kaiya!”

Kaiya sits across from her with a beaming smile and her hands outstretched and Rina gently places the pieces of grass in her hands. 

“Hey, thanks, ‘Ina,” Kaiya smiles and Rina bashfully hides her face. She crawls to her big sister and sits in her lap, playing with the flowers and pointing to the small garden that Kaiya and you had been working on.

“Let’s go to the flowers,” Kaiya says and holds her hand as they both waddle to the garden patch.

“Mommy’s growin’ fruits and veggies here,” Kaiya says, pointing at cucumbers and okra, “I pretend like I don’t like them, but I do.”

Kaiya laughs and Rina giggles, too. Rina watches Kaiya with identical eyes, wide and grey and full of wonder. She catches sight of her daddy and lets go of Kaiya’s hand to waddle to Levi.

You nudge Levi’s foot and he stretches his arms out for her. Rina concentrates on Levi, smiling as he gets closer and closer as she walks towards him. But she’s small and she’s clumsy, so she lands on her fresh overalls, knees in the dirt.

Levi is about to jump to his feet but you stop him with a hand to his chest. Rina only stands up with wobbly legs before resuming her walk to Levi.

She nearly jumps into his lap and bounces in his arms when he holds her close. Levi adjusts her sparkly purple headband and Rina just beams at him, standing on her feet and tugging the strands of hair that fall into his eyes. 

“Daddy,” Rina whispers and reaches into her pocket. She pulls out a few pieces of grass and shoves it in his face. “For you, daddy.”

Her fingers are dirty, coated in soil and dirt and Levi winces. But how can he focus on that when his baby is offering him the gift of the earth?

“Thank you, Rina,” Levi says quietly and kisses her forehead. Rina smiles, satisfied, before settling in his lap and giggling when you pull funny faces at her.

Levi hugs his youngest close, gesturing for Kaiya to come join him. She immediately plops down next to him and Levi wraps an arm around her shoulder.

“You’re getting too tall,” Levi says to Kaiya, who takes it as a compliment.

“My teacher says I’m tallest,” Kaiya beams at him. He pats her head affectionately.

“Come here, mommy,” Kaiya calls. Not like you were too far, anyway. Rina is busy playing with Levi’s long fingers and clutching them in her chubby hands. She gasps when she sees you approaching, outstretching her arms for your attention. You come bearing freshly cut fruit and juice before sitting down next to Levi and pecking his cheek.

“Mommy has melons,” You chirp and Levi snorts. 

“Yeah, she does,” Levi says with an upturn of his lips. Only you catch the teasing bite of his tone.

“Mello!” Rina chirps happily, eyeing the watermelon in your plate.

“It’s for you Rina,” You say, and cut up the piece into smaller pieces.

Levi lives for quiet summer nights like this- nights with his girls with the setting sun and a light breeze. Nights with you in a cute sundress, Kaiya and Rina smiling and laughing. 

He doesn’t think he can ever get used to how his girls’ laugh makes his heart swell.

tags: @simpingmaize​ @captainchrisstan​ @kentobean​ @alrightberries​ @puredivinity​ @regalillegal​ @castellandiangelo​

[cornerofhell]

TW!: Mention of assualt, child death, and murder “Hey look, it’s cornerofhell ranting again, what Child’s Play thing is it this time-” This is actually about... The Nightmare on Elm Street remake, and how I would have... made it better? Then again I’m not a script writer so... 

Keep Freddy innocent, Keep the characters, and take out the child-touching and ‘kids ratting him out’. Hear me out:

What if the vengeful parents... Killed the wrong man? Freddy Krueger is a wonderful father to his daughter and wonderful husband, and is well known around the neighborhood as the 'friendly dad' The one that asked if you were OK if ya skinned your knee, and waited with you at the car rider line until your parent or guardian picked you up. Unfortunately, for Freddy, that would be the cause of his demise. For when the children of Elm Street beginn to go missing, and no suspects were being found, people begin to turn on each other. That meant turning on Freddy too. He was far too sweet too the children. He must be evil. Police do a check of his home and find some old gardening tools that his wife owned for her vegetable garden in their backyard. And seeing how corrupt the justice system is, Krueger is arrested just with that. While in jail, he tries to comfort his family, telling the everything is going to be OK. The trial comes up, and... Freddy is declared innocent. There's not enough evidence, he has alibis, and with that, he's set free. He even goes out with with his wife and kid to celebrate. The parents are furious and mortified. They still believe that Freddy is a killer, despite everything. In their minds, he murdered their babies, and that was that. So a few nights after the trial, when Freddy is getting ready to go home in a shack beside the factory (it's hot as hell in the changing rooms, can you blame him?) a small mob of parents, led by Lieutenant Donald and Marge Thompson, who had lost their daughter, Bethany. Now all they had was their toddler, Nancy. And they are furious. As Freddy is getting ready, he doesn't see the parents outside.... Pouring gasoline on the shack. He's just smiling as he holds the picture of his baby girl... until a glass bottle breaks through the window, and splatters all over the shack, including himself. Krueger is confused, and horrified. He rushes to the window, only to see the parents of Elm street, screaming and calling him a murderer. And with that, Marge lights her cigarette... and drops it to the gasoline filled ground. The building goes up in flames in an instant, and in doing so... so does Freddy. He screams for anyone. Anything. His foster mother. His caretaker. His wife. His daughter-. She was going to grow up without her daddy. She couldn't- Within minutes, the building is up in flames, and Krueger is dead, burnt to a crisp. The parents what's left of his body, and bury it, as well as their sins... well... so they think. A man is later arrested. The bodies of the children had been buried in his back yard. He is clearly mentally insane, and is sent to a mental institution for the rest of his life. The parents finally get to bury their babies... And yet, they are pale as sheets. Some begin to move away. Some commit suicide out of guilt. Some stay and fight... But they still don't tell a soul what they've done. Meanwhile, Mrs Krueger is in mourning with her daughter. It had been "CONFIRMED" by the police that Freddy was dead, killed by a spark from a forest fire nearby. The woman's heart is utterly broken, but she knows she has to be there for her daughter as Freddy used to be. Years pass. 15, to be exact. Elm Street is calm now.... Until that one fateful night. Tina Gray is killed, somehow, sliced up right in front of her boyfriend Rod, and her mortified parents.  Rod is arrested, but when his parents and friends are visiting, he is hung... Nancy Thompson, the daughter of Ron and Marge, is getting suspicious. Everytime that she dreams, there's always a man, burnt badly, wearing finger knives and a dirty sweater, and apparently, her friends saw the same thing... What could this mean? Keep it modern! Make the story Freddy’s revenge over losing time with his daughter so he decided to take the kids back from the parents that kept him from her. Actually show the corruption of the police! Anything but whatever the fuck the remake was. 

[needleanddead]

thats it, that’s it, that’s all of them i promise! meme for constance and lucas, many more notes about them both under the cut because i see a chance to infodump and i am beholden to follow the urge. (template by slashesotron as always!)

-

Constance Violet Perrault is a spoilt 22 year old who lost her daddy (a prominent plastic surgeon) a few years ago, leaving her with a very sizeable inheritance and a nice house with surgery rooms built in. She wears sweet lolita fashion, likes macaroons and tea, and collects dolls. She used to customise dolls too, but now her father has passed away she has a new customisation hobby and prefers to work on something a little bigger. Amateur cosmetic surgeon obsessed with the pursuit of beauty; she sees someone she thinks she could make perfect and who would look adorable dressed up next to her in a frilly dress and she simply can’t resist taking them home. As long as her most beloved captive darling is amenable to all of the improvements Constance can make and is suitably adoring and grateful, Constance would never hurt them. One of the rooms in Constance’s home has a permanent occupant in the form of her former maid and first love Alice, who - despite being a testament to Constance’s failures - she can simply not bring herself to do anything about. 

‘Friends’ (although ‘frenemies’ is a better term) with Cass after her father tried to set her up with him when she was younger, thinking a title and an estate would be nice for her. Neither of them are one another’s type, but they both see the world in an unusual way and they’re both artists, of a kind. 

-

Lucas (surname unknown, his dog tags suggest it begins with an ‘S’) is a grizzled military veteran (again, exact branch of military unknown; he would really prefer not to talk about it) who has paid his dues and would much rather live in the woods in a house he built himself and raise chickens then be surrounded by people. He goes into town when he needs to, he’s not a complete hermit - he’s got a weakness for country music and good whiskey - but as a whole he stays away and he kills anyone who comes too close because . . . well. In his career he has had to rely on some unusual sustenance to keep himself from dying and he’s developed a particular fondness for human flesh. He does get lonely, sometimes, out there on his own; he can’t help but want someone warm and soft to cuddle up to on a night. To help him cook. To keep his little house neat. Maybe even to start a family with, if they’re capable of it (and if they’re not, he’s pretty sure he could acquire a kid somehow--). Traditional. Wants to be the breadwinner, wants to take care of you, will fall in love very easily but has a hair-trigger temper if he thinks his ‘kindness’ is being taken advantage of. Delusional yandere type; he will convince himself you’re in love with him and that this is better for you. He’s protecting you. 

Lives in one of the forests under Van’s protection. Lucas is polite and mostly hunts human meat (’what did deer ever do to me?’) so the two of them get on. Van has been known to guide mortal travellers towards Lucas’ turf if they annoy him. Inhuman murder is fun, but there’s something too to be said for watching another mortal be the one to deliver the killing blow. 

-

[jq37]

The Report Card – Fantasy High: The Seven Ep 6

Bitches Be Shopping

What is up y’all. A little late but let’s jump in with episode six of The Seven where our girls have just received a LOT of information, Sam most of all who got put into a little vision coma that she’s just now waking up from.

She explains the vision to her friends (as she interprets it, the other Eidolons didn’t die, just became part of the natural forces of the world) and then the bear that Penny made on a whim last episode (who is Russian, named Koda, and somehow a trained circus bear) gets into a fight with Katja with their friends buffing the two to make things more interesting because these are still idiot teens, life or death situation or no. Yelle decides to be the adult and tells them to knock it off and get back on mission.

That means Katja needs to call her dad since he’s knows the guy who’s the best lead to getting to TK ( Talcidimir Tallbreeze who I’ll call Tal). She actually manages to get her dad this time who is inside a giant snake on his hell mission. Katja asks what he knows about TK and he says she’s a sorcerer but also has a spell book so maybe she’s multiclassed. Sam and Ant desperately want to know if they boned and Katja absolutely is not interested in that knowledge. Yelle decides to just ask which makes her dad a little annoyed since he’s kind of in the middle of something (literally) and that annoys Ant, Ost, and Sam who--respectively, accuse him of gaslighting Kat, cast Command on him, and cast Bane on him to aid the Command spell. 

Mr. Cleaver fails the save and Ost commands him to tell Katja the truth. He admits that he did hook up with TK and he regrets it (note: it wasn’t like he cheated. It was just a casual hookup that wasn’t fulfilling it seems). Ost demands he apologize for not being there for Kat and Sam berates him for being at the top of the world and not lifting up his daughter too. For his part, Kat’s dad seems genuinely apologetic and promises to do better. 

“You don’t need to be the best father, you just need to be there,” Katja says, making her dad break down crying. 

Yelle, who has no daddy issues, is a bit less aggro and says that everyone makes mistakes and he can start making it up right now by helping with the Tal situation. She also gives them the tip that a cold spell will probably get them out of the snake lickety split.  She is on the money with the snake tip and Mr. Cleaver gets them all invites to a masquerade ball Tal is hosting. It’s being held on the Rumbosa which is this city-sized leisure ship. Mr. Cleaver says he’ll be back as soon as he can and, in the meantime, she should take care of her friends, “even the first 2 that were terrifying to me.”

The girls give Katja the axe they took as a birthday present (it was apparently her birthday the day before which Rekha just decided and Ost/Izzy refuses to accept without a fight because she *knows* Kat’s bday) which is identified as the Axe of Sundering (it can shatter objects, people, and sometimes concepts like halving movement). The two unnamed potions Yelle found are also ID’d as a Potion of Fly and a Potion of Gaseous Form. She distributes the Heath Potions to people without heals. Ant’s new arrows bypass some resistances and let her treat whatever she hits with the first one like it’s her favored enemy. 

According to their invites, the ship they need is docking in the city of Gravalvia soon (a very old city in the Baronies) so they need to figure out a plan. They have some downtime, during which:

Zelda tries to hype up the team.

Zelda tries to see if Ost is OK wrt dad stuff and Ost has a Full Breakdown after badly pretending she’s fine. 

While Zelda, Ost, and Penny are being Emotional and Sam is trying to literally cool them down with her powers, Ant and Yelle keep watch and experience emotional stability as the Adults Of The Party 

Anyway, after a night of rest, they head to the golden city of Gravalvia which is this very cool, very pretty city with mosaics and fountains and I assume columns. They get there and there’s a dramatic fight happening in the square which is halted when one of the fighters realizes that the country he’s fighting for doesn’t exist anymore. And now, it’s time for what we’ve all been waiting for. Shopping Montage! Let’s go girl by girl.

Katja and Ost

Kat asks for help from Ost with getting fancy for this gala since she’s never really done anything dressy before (and she had no mom to help--Kaaaat) and Ost is happy to oblige, dressing them both like “Jersey trash”. Kat, of course, still wears her Khakis underneath.

Antiope

Ant decides to get a vibe for what people here wear and picks something that will blend in but be forgettable so she can be stealthy. Classy blue dress and mask.

Penny

Penny...OK, I absolutely cannot describe what happens here in any way that will do justice to the scene. I am going to tell you what matters to the plot. You have to watch this yourself if you want to see the entire table have a collective breakdown. 

While looking for a costume, Penny runs into a halfling who is a member of the Society of Shadows--Laertes. He wants to know why she hasn’t responded to their invitation yet. She says she’s really eager to join, she just wasn’t sure how to respond (and also, she’s kind of in the middle of something). He says she can join by just messaging back and then her loved ones just have to sign waivers to have their memories wiped of her and she’s good to go. Say what now? asks Penny. She didn’t realize this was like a full Men in Black situation. 

He says it’s ultimately her decision and leaves.

Of course, I left out the parts where he ate a handful of Candy Heart’s remains, became violently ill, almost projectile vomited into Penny’s mouth, and she tried to kiss him despite him being a full adult. It’s A Lot, ok?

Also, we don’t find out until later but Penny picks a sexy duck costume for reasons that make more sense if you watch the scene but not *much* more sense. She also burns one of the healing potions on this dude as he is bar

Danielle

Danielle tries to get some info on the guests at the party and gets the names Lawrence LaDuc, Princess Autumn, and Duston who is the playboy cousin of Tal. She also hears some dude saying some colonize and plunder the earth BS and casts Heat Metal on him, fully mercing the dude. Ice cold. 

She tries to play it off like it’s the Curse of the Forest and when that doesn’t work and people start coming for her, she wildshapes into a dragon wyrmling and starts roasting people, killing 1 and dropping 2 to zero. 

Unfortunately, one of her party members is a known dragon hater and uses her new arrows to snipe her right out of the sky. Ant is horrified once she realizes what she’s done but Yelle says it’s all good. It’s NOT all good, says Ant, I STABBED YOU. You’re allowed to be mad! Yelle says she’s just really good at compartmentalizing but what Ant’s getting here is that Yelle doesn’t really believe that her feelings matter which echo the fears of her moms. 

Sam

Sam uses a combination of Mantle of Inspiration, glamour magic, performance, and good old flirting to get herself some killer clothes and also start a spontaneous musical number Giselle style.  

Brennan says she looks resplendent and, honestly, when does she not?

They reconvene, Zelda in a classic hoop skirt. Yelle realizes she never got a costume and just whips out a Met Gala level, autumn themed, Queen Mab-esque costume with Druidcraft which she could have done this whole time so I guess that’s why she was cool spending her shopping time getting gossip and playing Poison Ivy. 

They get to the ship and the way this works, everyone has to make an entrance and the really rich people (including Tal) are on a dais up top watching everyone come in. They all have to give fake names for the night since it’s a masquerade and they have to do Performance or Persuasion checks to see how impressive they look going in. 

Before they go in, they plan a little. Penny wants to look for TK. Sam wants to find Dunston. Ost wants to talk to the bouncers. Yelle wants to see if there are plants she can manipulate (there are btw) and for any exits. 

A quick rundown of how these all go:

Katja aka Mere (which means both mom and horse): 16 

Ant aka Midnight Huntress: 18 

Penny aka Penny Duckstone: 13

Zelda aka Madame Goodparty: 2 (Poor Zelda)

Sam aka Songbird: 22 (but she takes a hit to entrance save Zelda from totally flaming out)

Ost aka Stanley Gucci: 13

And Danielle, who never hogs the spotlight and is embarrassed to admit that maybe she does want to be the center of attention for once in her life with a Natural 20, gets a 29, absolutely bringing down the house as Empress Anima. As she walks forward she feels a voice say to her, “You got this. I love the name. You wear it well.”

Tal seems very impressed by her and a lady in a rabbit mask (Coeliabranca who I’ll call Coel if she comes up more) comes down to bring her up to the top with the high rollers. As she leaves, Sam casts Fly on her, just in case and holds the Concentration. 

Ost and Kat go talk to the bouncers and Kat decides to pretend to be her mom to get access to the area Yelle is. She rolls low and is told, “Hey, aren’t you already up there?” Kat is like, fuck and Ost saves her by using her charm earrings to get an entourage of guards who will let them through and do what she says. Once up there, Kat doesn’t see her mom which I can imagine she has mixed feelings about. 

Sam finds Dunston who is talking about Fantasy Bitcoin and seems like a real “Step on me mommy” type you know? Like, I feel like he’s into findom. Anyway, Sam charms him and his hangers on and learns about a procedure called a Phlebectomy that involves something going into their nose and then they feel better. Sam is rightfully horrified because, as I said, she is Most Likely To Survive A Horror Movie and can sense BS when she sees is. It’s apparently all the rage with the rich people here which is, como de dice, concerning seeing as they’re surrounded by them but we’ll get to that. Sam takes advantage of Dunston’s proclivities and gets him alone, knocks him out, steals him clothes, and pretends to be him (a *very* good scene by Sephie). 

Penny sees a gnome gnome boy (Lysander Higgins) shining shoes and finds out from him that there is a copper earth genasi woman here. In a very Cinderella move, she asks what shoes she was wearing. Then, she makes out with him which like, sure. At least it’s not a grown adult man this time. Before she gets her kisses in, she does tell the group what she learned. 

Up with the rich people, Yelle is introduced to Tal’s friend who is into Eidolons because of the name she chose. Between the shoes and her knowledge, they confirm that it’s TK! Yelle asks what she knows about Eidolons and she says that 7 is a very powerful number.

We cut to Ant who is patrolling the room as the sun sets and she suddenly hears a little beeping. It’s coming from a small crystal that was in Preston’s shirt (which she still has on her because???). Guests start dripping goo from their noses and transforming into monsters. Ant realizes that some kind of spell is happening triggered by midnight and this beeping. Hope these costumes are battle ready cause it’s fight time baybee!

Superlatives 

Danielle: Most Likely to Be on The News for Murdering Fantasy Jeff Bezos

I cannot imagine what was running through Yelle’s head when she decided that, having just rolled into a foreign country, her next move was to start using lethal force on anti-environmentalist colonizing capitalists. Like, she’s not *wrong* per se but she is wild--in all senses of the word.  

Random Thoughts

Kat keeps saying yesterday was her birthday which Ost/Izzy (and the rest of the group to a less vocal degree) are simply not having because maybe her dad would forget her birthday but her girls absolutely would not.

“You’re great because you stayed,” is the other killshot Kat line to her dad.

At a certain point Sam says, “This is so unhealthy,” to I think Yelle and like, if SAM is telling you your coping mechanisms are unhealthy, get thee to therapy.

OK, so someone, presumably Anima’s spirit, talks to Yelle as she makes her grand entrance which seems like info they should get to Talura ASAP, right? Cause that’s evidence they’re not dead-dead, just changed in form. But also Anima, girl. Don’t talk to Yelle. Talk to your rampaging sister!

"That's my secret, I stay in initiative."

Just a process note, notes are taken for the next ep and I am working on getting that recap up ASAP. As a battle ep, it will be in the abbreviated style that I did for last battle ep. 

In this episode, Penny rolls a Nat 1 (which she rerolls) and one of Brennan’s NPCs rolls a Nat 1. Ant rolls 2 Nat 20s, Yelle rolls 1, and Brennan says that one of his NPCs gets a 20 which sweeps him entirely into Sam’s dance number. 

[hearts-hunger]

aay’han mar’eyce (bittersweet discovery): chapter four || din djarin x reader

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

chapter one || chapter two || chapter three

Series Summary: In search of the Jedi you’ve been tasked to find, you and Din wrestle with the bittersweet discovery of your little one’s past and destined future. || Part Three of Jate’kara (Lucky Stars)

Chapter Summary: Grogu shows Ahsoka his powers, and Din makes a decision that rocks your little family.

Pairings: Din Djarin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff | Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical violence, pregnant reader, brief morning sickness

A/N: Hello!!! Bet y’all wondered if I’d ever come back to this series! Of course, I could never abandon Mr. and Mrs. Djarin - I merely needed to let my muse gather her thoughts. I’m very excited to be writing for this series again, and I hope it’s worth the wait!

Kriff, you’d forgotten how uncomfortable it was to sleep on the ground.

Your little one seemed no worse for wear; after a last snuggle in the cradle of your arms, he toddled off of your lap and happily chased a lizard across the ground. 

You and Din indulged in a few minutes of commiseration as you set to making a simple breakfast of portion bread, sharing a few bites with your little one whenever he could be coaxed away from chasing the critters he found. Din sat next to you, lifting the bottom of his helmet to eat; it was too risky to take it off when he wasn’t absolutely assured it was only you and your baby watching. 

“You don’t ever sleep with your helmet on anymore,” you observed. You knew he must have many times while on a hunt, but most nights found him asleep in your bunk with no armor on.

“No, thank the Maker,” he agreed. His morning voice was impossibly deep through his vocoder. “It’s fine to have on during the day, but it’s a little annoying to sleep in. It’s like sleeping with your boots on.”

You stroked your fingers over the shiny beskar; it would be smudged with dust by the time you got back to the Crest, and it would need a good polishing.

“At least your morning voice is even deeper,” you teased.

He chuckled, and the sound was so gravelly that you flushed. 

“You like it, hm?” he asked, knowing full well the effect he had on you. You gave his shoulder a light shove, and he laughed; you drank in the sound of it and the feel of him next to you.

“Ad’ika,” Din called when your baby had wandered a little too far. Grogu responded to the nickname as easily as he had his own name the night before, and you felt a bit of relief and comfort that he was just as familiar with your name for him as his given name.

“Come back over here,” Din said, crooking a finger. “You know better than to wander off.”

With a slightly disgruntled coo, your baby came back closer to you and contented himself with collecting as many little rocks and pebbles as he could fit in his tiny hands. One would tumble out as soon as he found another one, and you smiled at his diligence in collecting them.

Din stood, stretching a little as he did, a soft groan coming through the modulator. "I’m too old for this.”

He offered his hand and helped you to your feet, and you suddenly felt a twinge of morning sickness. 

“I’m too pregnant for this,” you said with a weak laugh.

Din’s whole demeanor changed as he stepped closer and hovered around you. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

You huffed a laugh and closed your eyes. “I’m fine, honey,” you said patiently. You would never have characterized your husband as a nervous man, but this pregnancy had brought out a fair bit of anxiety in him, and he fussed at every little thing.

“Morning sickness?” he asked, offering you his arm to lean on.

You nodded and steadied yourself against him. “It’ll pass.”

“Hey,” he said suddenly. You heard him rifle through something, probably the pocket on his belt. “I have some of those Kismet biscuits you liked on Nevarro. Would that help?”

You opened your eyes to see a slightly crumpled packet of honey-colored cookies in his outstretched hand.

“You... you got more of those?” you asked. Cara and Greef had given you the grand tour of the city, and you’d had morning sickness then too - at Cara’s suggestion, you got Kismet biscuits and nibbled on them until your rocky stomach settled. 

Din shrugged. “I thought they might be good to keep handy. I talked to a nurse droid at the school, and she said there wasn’t much you could do for morning sickness, but maybe these will help.”

You softened. “You talked to a nurse droid for me?”

He cocked his head. “Yeah.” He seemed to think it was a little thing, but it wasn’t a little thing to you. You knew how uneasy it must have made him to talk to a droid, even a nurse droid, but he’d done it for you. He’d also cared enough to pay attention to what helped and what didn’t, and to keep it on hand. You could just imagine your tough Mandalorian husband double-checking everything before you left the Crest - rifle, blaster, vibroblade, cookies for his wife’s morning sickness. You smiled at the thought.

“What?” he asked, amused.

You shook your head. “Nothing.” You took the packet from his outstretched hand and gave him an intentional smile. “Thank you for getting these for me, love.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.”

“You know what else would make me feel better?” you asked.

You could almost see his smile. “What’s that?”

You tapped your forehead. “A kiss, please.”

He chuckled and obliged you, resting his helm against your head for a moment. The beskar was nice and cool against your skin and helped ease your headache.

“Take it easy for a bit, ok?” he said when he pulled back from you. “I’m going to try and find Ahsoka and ask her what kind of tests she has in mind.”

He sounded a little uneasy at the thought, and you didn’t blame him. You weren’t sure what kinds of tests would be necessary to determine the extent of your son’s powers or previous training, and you resolutely refused to let him do anything that would hurt him.

But, it was early yet, and you were determined to make the best of this. You gave Din’s chest plate a comforting pat before you fished out one of the Kismet biscuits and broke off a piece of it, popping it in your mouth.

“Is that helping at all?” he asked.

Actually, it was - the sharp, bittersweet taste made the morning sickness fade to a dull racket.

“Yeah, it is,” you said. “And they’re good, too. Thank you again.”

He chuckled. “You’re welcome, again.” He touched a few fingers to your cheek in parting as he stepped around you to hunker down to your son’s level. Grogu abandoned his collection of rocks and gave his daddy uppy arms, cooing happily.

“Hi, buddy,” Din said sweetly, and you could hear his smile. He took Grogu in his arms and stood. “Be good for mama, ok? I’ll be back in a little bit with the nice lady, and then you can show her your powers.”

Grogu’s ears perked up, and he babbled a response.

“I know, it’s exciting,” Din said. “You need to be on your best behavior, and mind your manners.”

You smiled. That was your husband’s go-to philosophy for raising kids - before anything else, teach them to be respectful and to mind their manners. You liked it, and the admonition had become part of your parenting vocabulary as soon as Grogu came to be with you.

Your little one gave an affirmative coo, and Din gently rubbed the tip of your baby’s ear between his gloved fingers.

“Okay. Go see mama.” Din handed your baby to you. “Be right back, cyare.”

You and Grogu waved to him as he left; even though Din would be back shortly, your baby always waved bye if someone put so much as two feet of distance between them. Din secretly loved it, and always made a point to wave back whether he was really leaving or not.

You sat on a fallen tree trunk and held your baby in your lap, and he gave a happy babble when you took another cookie from the packet for him. You put the rest in your pocket, hoping you wouldn’t need them later; you were feeling better with the cool breeze on your face. Most of the smog from the city was cleared away this far into the woods, and the forest was a little greener too; you wished you could have seen it in all its glory, before the magistrate had ordered it destroyed.

Grogu looked up at you, giving a soft chirp as he cocked his head. You smiled.

“Hi, my love,” you cooed. “You like your cookie?”

He held up his treat and grinned; you gave an affectionate laugh and brushed your fingers over his ear.

“I love you, Grogu,” you said. “And daddy loves you. And no matter what happens with these tests, your daddy and I are so proud of you.”

You hoped he understood you; if he didn’t understand the words, you hoped the tone of your voice told him how much you loved him. Ashoka wanted to test his powers, to see how much he remembered of his Jedi training - would she be disappointed if he didn’t know enough? You knew your little one was never more upset than when you or Din expressed disappointment when he got into mischief or disobeyed. It was especially noticeable with Din: your husband could scold from sunup to sundown and it wouldn’t really make a difference to your baby, but as soon as Grogu heard that shift from frustrated to disappointed in Din’s voice, he was immediately chastised and apologetic, and wanted assurances that Din loved him. 

Your husband would scoop your little one up and remind him he was loved despite the trouble he’d gotten into. Din had told you that his father had dealt with him the same way when he was a youngling, and he had always been thankful for the compassion that accompanied the chastisement. You never got the chance to meet Din’s Mandalorian father; he died before you knew Din, but Din spoke of him with great affection and respect and often said he would have loved you and the baby. You wished you could have known him and told him how proud you were of the man he’d raised.

You knew Din would be crushed when your baby left. Being a father was everything to him, and he was so good at it - he loved Grogu more than anything, and even among Mandalorians he was known for the lengths he’d gone to in order to keep his child safe. Din would let Grogu go with Ahsoka if that was what was best for him, you knew that without a doubt; he would never stand in the way of what his son needed and deserved. 

And yet, the pain of losing him would be unbearable for both of you, a gap that nothing would be able to fill. Your new baby was a blessing and an incredible joy to both of you already, but you sometimes wondered if that joy would be overshadowed by the grief of losing Grogu, or if you would feel guilty loving your new baby when you missed your first so badly.

You brushed crumbs from Grogu’s shirtfront and touched a few fingers to his cheek.

“You’re gonna do great, ad’ika,” you said, trying to infuse your voice with confidence and excitement even if you felt more like crying. “Just... show Ahsoka what you know. Daddy and I are excited to see what you learned at Jedi school.”

He waved his hand in front of him.

“Yeah, that’s right,” you said with a gentle laugh. “The magic hand thing, just like Uncle Greef said.”

He looked pleased that he’d made you laugh and cooed up at you. He babbled something for a moment before he turned and looked towards the direction of Ahsoka’s camp; you’d heard footsteps too, and you saw the telltale shine of beskar through the dense trees.

“Alright,” you said quietly, holding him close as you stood. “Don’t be nervous, okay?”

He looked up at you with an expression that made you question if that reminder had been more for you or for him, and you kissed his head.

“Fine, I’ll try not to be nervous either.”

You followed Din and Ahsoka as they came through the trees and cut through to a raised portion of the clearing. A verdant carpet of moss covered the ground and crept up the stones, springy against the soles of your boots; Din went first up the rise and offered you a hand up.

Ahsoka turned to you and offered you a smile, genuine if not a little crooked, like she hadn’t had occasion to smile in a long time. You returned it and felt a little more at ease, angling Grogu towards her as she came closer.

“Let’s see what knowledge is lurking inside that little mind,” she said, tapping your baby’s nose. He cooed at her and her smile grew wider; your little one had always had the talent of drawing out smiles from people who’d long since forgotten how it felt.

She gestured to a small, flat stone and stepped a few paces from it. You set Grogu down, giving him a little pat of reassurance, and came to stand beside your husband. Both of you were nervous, jittery; Din hid it better than you did, and took your hand in his own to try and steady you with the gentle pressure.

Ahsoka picked a stone from the ground and held it out to Grogu. You watched in fascination as the stone drifted from her palm towards him, landing in his outstretched paws.

“Now return the stone to me, Grogu,” she said, and you were surprised at how gentle she was. He didn’t make a move to send the stone back, though, and you suppressed the urge to say something.

Your husband couldn’t help it. “He doesn’t understand.”

“He does,” she corrected. She looked back at your little one.

“It’s ok,” she said. “The stone, Grogu.”

You bit your lip and waited for your baby to do as she said, wondering if he was nervous, hoping he wasn’t intimidated. Din tilted his head towards Ahsoka in encouragement.

Grogu let the stone fall from his hands, and he looked so discouraged that you knew he hadn’t done it to spite anyone. You hated trying to perform under pressure and always ended up doing a worse job than you would have if no one had been watching you, and you couldn’t help but think your son was feeling the same way. You were all circled around him, after all, watching in silence for him to do something amazing; the pressure had to be uncomfortable, and you wished there was something you could do to ease it. 

You watched as Ahsoka knelt in front of him, taking his little hand in hers. He didn’t meet her eyes.

“I sense much fear in you,” she said softly. A thread of worry pulled taut in you. What was your little one afraid of?

He did look up at her then, and realization flickered across Ahsoka’s face as they communicated in the way only they could understand. You wished you didn’t feel so jealous.

“He’s hidden his abilities to survive over the years,” Ahsoka said, looking up at you and Din. She stood and paced a few steps, thinking; you offered your little one an encouraging smile, hoping to ease whatever fear he felt.

“Let’s try something else,” she said. “Come over here.”

Din nodded towards Ahsoka again, urging your little one to do as she said; when he didn’t, Din shook his head.

“He’s stubborn,” Din said, and you were a little surprised at the hint of affection and amusement in his voice. While disobedience wasn’t a Mandalorian trait, stubbornness most certainly was, and it seemed your husband walked a fine line when it came to your little one’s unwillingness to comply.

 Your little one was like his dad in a lot of ways; he’d picked up certain traits of Din’s, like the questioning tilt of his head, and was very attuned to Din’s moods in a way he wasn’t with yours. You didn’t mind how close they were - in fact, it was one of the things you liked best, seeing how much Grogu loved his dad and wanted to be like him.

Ahsoka seemed to see the bond between them; she looked from Din to his son, reading the communication of fondness and gentle exasperation from one to the other.

“Not him,” she told Din. “You. I want to see if he’ll listen to you.”

Din seemed to close in on himself, suddenly nervous and hesitant.

“That would be a first,” he said, and you knew him well enough to hear the edge of defensiveness and warning to his voice. Din was open and warm and comfortable with you and your baby, but it was very hard for him to be vulnerable around others, and you knew he felt nervous at the thought of his bond with Grogu being the center of attention.

He did as she said, though, and stepped over to her. Ahsoka gave him a soft smile. 

“I like firsts,” she said. “Good or bad, they’re always memorable.”

You watched as she placed the stone in his hand.

“Now hold the stone out in the palm of your hand,” she said. “Tell him to lift it up.”

Din’s body language spoke of his discomfort, and he shifted his weight onto the other foot.

“Alright, kid,” he said. “Lift the stone.” His tone was oddly detached even considering his nervousness, and you felt wanted to tell Ahsoka this wasn’t how Din talked to him normally, to explain that Din was never this uncomfortable with affection. She seemed to understand, and a touch of sympathy softened her expression.

“Grogu,” she reminded him, knowing he knew his baby’s name but hoping to coax out that affection she’d seen earlier. Din set his shoulders and held the stone out again.

“Grogu,” he said, and your little one’s ears perked up. “Come on, take the stone.”

Again, your baby made no move to take it; the set of Din’s shoulders was taut with frustration and something a little like fear.

“You see?” he said to Ahsoka, tossing the stone to the ground. “I told you, he’s stubborn.”

There was no pride or amusement in his voice that time, and you realized with a wave of sympathy that it was more than just Din’s natural shyness that was making this so hard for him. Din knew as well as you did that if your little one did well enough with these tests, Ahsoka might decide to train him.

“Try to connect with him,” she said, and you knew Din would rather do anything else. To have his connection with his son be the very thing that could bring about their separation - you knew it was painful for him, and he was desperate to control it, somehow, even if that meant closing himself off.

“Din,” you said, before you could stop yourself. He looked over at you, tilting his head in question, undoubtedly studying your face. You searched for something to say to encourage him, to offer him comfort in a way that stayed between the two of you.

“Ne chaabar, cyare,” you said. Your Mando’a was rusty as best, but you knew that phrase from how often he’d said it to you - do not be afraid, beloved. You hoped he knew everything you were trying to tell him: I’m sorry, I love you, I’m worried too. It’s okay.

The set of his shoulders relaxed. He didn’t respond to you verbally, but his body language spoke volumes, as it always did: he looked more steady, less hesitant. He sighed as he looked back to your son, both of them tilting their heads at each other.

Din reached into the pocket of his belt and pulled out the gear shift handle, the thing tiny in his big hands. You softened and felt the strangest sort of ache in your chest. Din knew his little boy, and you knew Grogu would finally do as he was told if it meant getting to play with his dad.

“Grogu,” Din said, much gentler and more playful than he had before. He hunkered down and held the ball between two fingers. “Do you want this?”

Your baby’s expression was completely transformed, his eyes wide with wonder and excitement, his ears perked all the way up. He made grabby hands towards the ball, and you couldn’t help a smile.

“Well, go ahead,” Din encouraged. “That’s right, take it. Come on.”

Grogu looked curiously at Din, perhaps trying to puzzle out why he was able to have it now when he hadn’t been allowed to before.

“You can have it,” Din assured him. “Come on.”

So quickly you almost missed it, your baby used his powers to pull the ball from Din’s hand and catch it in his own.  

“Good job!” Din said, genuine excitement and pride in his voice. “Good job, kid!”

He stood and looked over at you. “You see that?”

You nodded and gave him a glowing smile. You were happy, but Din was ecstatic; he was so proud of his little boy, and Grogu beamed when Din knelt in front of him.

“That’s right,” Din said, taking the ball when Grogu offered it to him. “I knew you could do it. Very good.”

Your baby held onto his dad’s finger and cooed happily at him, and you knew Din was smiling under the helm.

You glanced at Ahsoka; she seemed hesitant, of all things, and you felt a sting of worry.

“He’s formed a strong attachment to you,” she said, her tone unreadable. Then, after a moment, “I cannot train him.”

You and Din spoke at the same time. “What?”

Din stood and approached Ahsoka as you moved to pick your baby up, a thousand emotions running through you at what she’d said. I cannot train him. A bigger part of you than you wanted to admit had been hoping for that very answer.

“Why not?” Din demanded. His tone was tight with frustration and confusion, vastly different from his earlier expression of happiness; Grogu read the change easily and gave a quiet, distressed coo.

“Shh, ad’ika,” you said softly. “Daddy’s not angry with you.”

“You’ve seen what he can do,” Din said to Ahsoka, gesturing to his son. Grogu cuddled closer to you.

“His attachment to you makes him vulnerable to his fears,” Ahsoka said firmly. “His anger.”

Nothing could have been more distinct from the Mandalorian way of life, where family bonds were a source of strength. Though you could tell it had taken Din off guard too, he merely shook his head, unwilling to argue.

“All the more reason to train him,” he insisted.

“No,” Ahsoka said, her expression wide with unease and hurt like a wounded thing. “I’ve seen what such feelings can do to a fully trained Jedi knight. To the best of us.”

Her pain was raw, but your sympathy struggled to overcome the concern her words elicited in you. What feelings? Affection? Love? You balked at the idea of sending your son to train with people who considered a child’s bond with their parent to be dangerous, something that inevitably led to ruin and loss.

“I will not start this child down that path,” she said, and despite everything, you felt it was out of some curious sense of concern for Grogu’s well-being. You wondered if she ever questioned Jedi teaching. “Better to let his abilities fade.”

You wanted to protest, to challenge her supposed responsibility to her vow - didn’t Jedi take care of their own? And yet, you knew nothing of the Jedi way of life; your notions about honor and accountability came from your own upbringing and the Mandalorian Way. She may not be bound to help your little one at all.

Besides, you didn’t want her to train him. You’d known from the moment you set foot on this planet that you didn’t want him taken from you to train, and this new understanding of the Jedi way rooted that even more deeply in your heart.

“I’ve delayed too long,” she said, cutting off any further debate. “I must get back to the village.”

She walked to the edge of the  rise, intending to leave without another word; your baby gave a sad coo as he watched her go. You looked over to your husband, wordlessly asking what you should do.

He looked to Ahsoka. “The Magistrate sent me to kill you.”

Your eyes widened and Ahsoka stilled, his words having the intended effect. He stepped towards her. 

“I didn’t agree to anything,” he said as she turned to face him. “And I’ll help you with your problem, if you see to it that Grogu is properly trained.”

You flushed with surprise and anger.

“Din,” you said sharply. He kept his gaze on her but held a hand out your way, and you couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be placating or silencing. Either way, you had to bite your tongue from yelling every curse you knew in Basic and Mando’a at your husband.

Ahsoka looked from Din to you, undoubtedly reading the tension between you.

“Very well,” she said after a moment, her need for assistance outweighing her apprehension in training your son. “I cannot train him. I will not. But, in exchange for your help, I will try and find someone who will.”

“Thank you,” Din said, and you couldn’t believe how relieved he sounded. “We’ll need to return to my ship. I need supplies, and I’m not taking my wife and child back into that city.”

Any other day you might have thought his protectiveness was endearing, but all you felt at the moment was the distinct, infuriating sense of being completely ignored. It was so unlike Din that you were almost concerned, but anger and incredulity outweighed any other feeling. You would have bet your life you and Din had come to the same conclusion about letting your son train with the Jedi after hearing her refusal and the reason behind it. That you hadn’t - obviously - left you reeling.

No matter. Ahsoka and Din would have to go through you to get Grogu and ship him off to train with the Jedi, and if nothing else brought them pause, surely that would.

Ahsoka nodded. “Lead the way.”

Din looked to you then, his body language clearly hesitant. Good, you thought bitterly. Let him fear the worst about what was going on in your head. You certainly weren’t of any mind to ease his discomfort, not when he’d so blatantly ignored you earlier. You weren’t going to confront him, at least not now - the last thing you wanted was to have a fight with your husband in front of Ahsoka, and both of you made it a point not to argue in front of your baby.

“Let’s go,” you said curtly.

A quiet sigh slipped through his modulator, and you could just imagine the downward pull of his brow as he frowned. He started in the direction of the Crest, and Ahsoka quickly followed.

As you walked, you kept some distance between you and your husband as Ahsoka drew him into a conversation of strategy for their attack on the city. Despite yourself, you missed his steady presence beside you; not even your anger with him could erase your desire to have him near. You held Grogu close and drew in on yourself, bitter and hurt, tuning out most of what they said as your own thoughts gnawed at you.

How could Din want your son to train with her, or with any other Jedi? How could he offer to risk his life to secure it? If your son’s powers came at the cost of his ability and freedom to love, you’d gladly let them fade. You couldn’t believe Din thought otherwise. Even more than your anger with him was your confusion, a desperate need to ask him what in the galaxy he could be thinking. 

Your husband wasn’t a foolish man. He had never been given to thoughtless, reckless decisions, and in your marriage, he had never made a habit of making decisions without asking for your input. That he had now, especially about something as important as your son’s future and his own life, was a stunning blow. You were hurt and dismayed at how disconnected you felt from him; by his own actions, he’d separated himself from you, and you had rarely felt a deeper wound.

So consumed were you with your own thoughts that you didn’t notice Din had stopped walking until you nearly crashed into him. You instinctively put a hand to his back to steady yourself; when he looked back at you, you snatched your hand back like you’d been burned.

“Don’t underestimate the Magistrate either,” Ahsoka was saying. You’d failed to follow the first part of their conversation and couldn’t say you were sorry to have missed it.

Din tore his gaze from you and looked back at Ahsoka. “Who is she? She offered me a staff of pure beskar to kill you.”

Ahsoka crossed her arms over her chest, an almost smug expression crossing her features at the high death-price she warranted. 

“Morgan Elsbeth,” she said. “During the Clone Wars, her people were massacred. She survived and let her anger fuel an industry which helped build the Imperial Starfleet. She plundered worlds, destroying them in the process.”

Din looked around you at the barren forest. “Yeah, it looks like she’s still in business.”

Ahsoka fixed Din with a questioning gaze. “When you were in the city, did you see any prisoners?”

Din nodded. “We saw three villagers strung up just outside the inner gate.”

Despite your own turmoil, you shuddered at the memory and held Grogu closer.

“We must find a way to free them,” Ahsoka said. You knew it had already occurred to your husband that those prisoners needed to be saved; he had probably already planned out how they should do it.

All three of you stood in silence for a moment, thinking about the upcoming attack on the city.

“A Mandalorian and a Jedi?” Din mused. “They’ll never see it coming.”

You resisted the urge to say something childish along the lines of No, how could they? Not even your own wife could have seen it coming. You still had a long way to go before you reached the Crest, and you weren’t keen to make the tension in your party any more difficult to bear than it already was. 

You dutifully trudged along behind them as they started fine-tuning their strategy, the steady rhythm of your walking eventually lulling your baby to sleep. You had to accept Din’s help every so often as the terrain grew unwieldy; as soon as you were steady again, he let you go. Part of you was glad his touch didn’t linger. The other part of you wanted him to keep your hand in his even when you didn’t need his help; maybe then you could have been a way of being close to you, loving you, instead of just being a responsibility he felt obliged to uphold.

You felt as though the forest threatened to swallow you without your husband by your side, and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so terribly lonely.

Read chapter five!

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