#i had a little crisis just now realizing it's been. six fucking years. how im I suppose to cope with that.

[kitty-gray]

Call me Ty Blackthorn the way I've been missing Kit Herondale for longer than I met him.

[randomwriteronline]

AAAA IM GLAD U ENJOEYED i have Not explained some things bc im a forgetful bitch but i can do it now

SO ABOUT THE METRU-MATA THING. its all very nebulous ill admit i havent thought of this part much, but the metru called the mata BECAUSE shit was going down and they realized they couldnt handle it by themselves, esp after Lhikan's death. we're just a bunch of were-teens who are down one mom, we cant possibly save the world! only after actually contacting the mata through their trance did they realize "oh wait these fabled legendary warriors are like Literally Clueless and almost childlike in their ignorance of how to exist and live. ok change of plans lets get them ready to Be People before they end up fucking up" which IN TURN makes the mata think "oooh these must be the Previous Toa, our Proper Predecessors, definitely we are Part Of A Long Line Of Warriors" and becomes the reason why they take the mahri later as novice toa

slight problem is, the mata Dont Fucking Know where the metru did the ritual to call them and were specifically instructed by the metru to focus first on the crisis and only AFTERWARDS go looking for them. the mahri COULD have handled it after the mata had been sent back, which would have happened immediately after fullfilling their duty anyways ala journey to one finale, but they were sort of in the middle of keeping a whole ring shaped city from collapsing with all of its inhabitants and also using every ounce of their elemental powers to turn everybody including themselves amphibious once it became clear that they werent going to be able to avoid being pulled into the fucking sea. they have NO clue how they managed that and frankly they dont care to find out. you dont look a gift horse in the mouth and such

the site the metru were petrified in got buried in the ensuing geological disaster and Krika spent these past few hundreds of years searching desperately for them to no avail bc shes their other mom and her last non-petrified son (jaller) just got slorped by the ocean and also the rest of her family is mad at her for deserting them for a grizzled lesbian n her six teen kids so. shes alone

BACK TO THE MATA GETTING SUCKED INTO THE SKY AGAIN. THAT WAS A VERY UNFORTUNATE WHOOPSIE. bc they thought FUCK the twelve of us are having TROUBLE if only we had our Totally Definitely Veteran Predecessors here. OH WAIT WE CAN ASK THE GREAT SPIRIT TO FREE THEM DUH HES A GOD and so they tried to do that, but the fucking problem. the problem. its that this was interpreted by the forces beyond them at large like a manual reset. it was interpreted as Our Job Is Done Pls Come Pick Us Up. this is also the first time in their millenia of existing and saving okoto that they realized they were going to get their memories erased and tried to fight back to no avail, specifically bc 1) MY FUCKING SIBLINGS and 2) THE MAHRI NEED OUR HELP

im glad Whenua being over the moon about seeing Onua was cute :) btw i omitted the fact that after he realizes the amnesia he starts going down a panicked spiral and thinks for a moment that the other metru fucking died and hes the only survivor :)

i also omitted that Krika jumps them and gives them the worlds most tearful tongue bath when she sees them all again for the first time bc HER CHILDREN HER CHILDREN THEYRE HERE AGAIN

but yeah both them and the mahri will have to catch up. thats what the chronicler's company is here for lol

your idea of the metru talking to the mata in their heads is cool but unfortunately i dont think its feasible literally - but i can see them repeating maybe mantras or knowledge that the metru taught them in their specific fields of expertise but that make little sense for the mata to know otherwise, and it all makes sense much later

uhhhhh thats all i think!! hopefully!!

Hello! This is my main blog! (I'm legend-as-old-as-time.)

So, I've got a favorite. But the other two AUs also fascinate me. I'd love to know what the story is for your G3 of Bionicle? What's the atmosphere like?

BLASTS MY THOUGHTS DIRECTLY INTO YOUR BRAIN TO EXPLAIN THEM FASTER AND POSSIBLY BETTER THAN THROUGH WORDS

as mentioned i have a post in drafts thats meant to be like. a vague skeleton of thoughts and ideas and shit that ive talked about to and with @cantankerouscanuck, mainly introducing the various character groups n the environment slightly, but it does NOT touch on the story much (more the backstory and again only vaguely) so GREAT QUESTION LET ME TELL YOU

thinking of like uhhhh diving this in like. cartoon seasons but old school ones yknow, so LONG ones bc oh boy ADVENTURES

Season 1 starts with that Classic Bionicle Beginning of the toa mata crashlanding on the archipelago of Okoto each on a different island not knowing what the Fuck to do and being welcomed in the villages. like in g2 theyre first tasked with finding some golden relics but instead of being accompanied by the protectors/village elders they go with the local Weird Kids (the chronicler's company) who were the first people they actually met; getting the things lets them reach the island of the mask makers and meet Ekimu (and takua!!!! his apprentice!!!!!!!) and theyre like "so what do we do with these btw" and ekimu looks at the pieces and goes. FUCK

TURNS OUT THOSE RELICS WERE SUPPOSED TO BE GOLDEN MASKS BUT SOME MF JUST BROKE THEM INTO PIECES and wouldnt you fucking believe it it was the Children Of Makuta, the spirit of death and animals and darkness, who live each on one of the islands except spiriah the baby of the family who roams around bothering literally everybody and ofc dont want the toa to reawaken the Great Spirit whom their parent put to sleep, AND SO BEGINS THE FETCH QUEST OF THE OTHER FIVE PIECES OF EACH MASK WHILE FIGHTING OFF THESE FREAKS OF NATURE WHO ARE TRYING TO EAT THEM AND BUILDING CONNECTIONS BETWEEN THEMSELVES & EKIMU & TAKUA N HIS POSSE & THE VILLAGERS AND SLOWLY BECOMING A PROPER TEAM N FAMILY which is why they need to be many episodes. i will fucking recreate almost verbatim the tale of the mask kopaka-pohatu story because its already perfect and you will Fucking See It if i have to Kill For It

closes off with a cliffhanger after getting all the masks: during an ambush by Mutran Gali gets dragged off into the sea between the islands to get crushed by the water pressure but whats this??, the pressure suddenly lifts enough to let her breathe as she loses consciousness while strange silhouettes drive off the child of Makuta and catch her in his stead, sinking deeper...

S2 starts off by quickly catching up to the rest of the toa who are SHITTING THEIR FUCKING SELVES ABOUT THEIR WATER-BREATHING SISTER APPARENTLY DROWNING BEFORE THEM

tahu and pohatu decide to look for her in a ball of tempered glass while kopaka, onua and lewa hurry back to ekimu to tell him what happened. back to gali, she awakens to a bunch of... toa???? who know her and her brothers???? personally, apparently????? three of them are like super mad at them for leaving them during their time of need??????? what the FUCK are you people talking about. who are u. how are you breathing under water. why is tHERE A WHOLE FUCKING CITY UNDER THE WATER-

ENTER: THE TOA MAHRI. as it slowly turns out inbetween rounds of beating the shit out of sapient polyamorous seafood that keeps trying to nibble the villagers and the air bubble domes for their crops, they were TRAINED by the mata a few hundreds years ago and were fighting off the cataclysm that broke the continent of okoto into islands and sunk the city of Iniri into the sea together with them before they just Fucking Left, Apparently - which ofc they didnt do for no reason but they essentially got shoved back into the stars against their will. this rightfully rattles the shit out of the mata because What Do You Mean We Have Been Here Before. What Do You Mean You Had Records Of Us Being Here Even Earlier Than That. How Many Times Have We Done This. How Many Times Have We Discovered Kinship And Affection And Had That Stripped Away From Us. I Think I'm Going To Throw Up

while theyre handling THAT they also fill in the mahri on whats been going on and the mahri go oh shit, the great spirit is in a coma and the children of makuta are against you??? bro those guys are super powerful theyve got Crabs, you cant fight em alone. but also if we try to leave the sea the water pressure Will Fucking Destroy Us, so they figure out a way to get out of there and back up and jaller is super anxious bc his mom might be there but like... based on what they said... she might be evil... he doesnt wanna fight her... shes the only family he still has...

S3 AND WE GO BACK TO SEE WHAT KOPAKA ONUA AND LEWA ARE DOING, and theyre off searching the more ruined parts of the city of the mask makers on takua's suggestion - these are the parts of the city that werent very lucky during the cataclysm and are now sacred ground prowled by Krika, daughter of Makuta

at last they find a strange underground chamber with six breathing statues, which, of course, freaky; they manage to thaw one and out tumbles a toa (?) who immediately recognizes onua and starts talking to him excitedly (??) saying that its so good to see him in person for the first time (???) and asking him about the continent (????) and being genuinely distraught that they dont know who he is. same reactions from the other five toa that also get thawed out. ok something is Clearly Amiss pls explain

its time for LOMN...... 2!!!!!! where we learn from vakama abt how Lhikan, who previously filled in ekimu's position, finds out theres Some Shit going down with the great spirit and makuta and tries to call the mata, who however get stuck due to the aformentioned Some Shit. as such she picks out six lads in the city of the mask makers and bestows masks upon them to make them become toa, but on their way to handle the current problem they get werebeast'd and Krika goes oh? free kids? free kids for me? and Lhikan goes NO but its too late. they already have joint custody of the metru. and might be blossoming a lesbian romance but unfortunately due to lhikan being lhikan i have to kill her to protect vakama, leaving krika with him AND his little brother jaller who will inherit lhikan's mask. the metru figure out the way to get the mata in this case is to attempt to contact them themselves, which they manage to do by entering a trance that however slowly turns them into statues: in this trance they are able to speak and train the mata, who also promise to free them once the whole situation is handled

CONSIDERING THE CATACLYSM HAPPENED AND THEY GOT SHOT BACK IN THE SKY AND GOT AMNESIA YOU CAN UNDERSTAND THAT PROMISE KIND OF WENT TO SHIT

anyways thats A Lot as you can imagine and the time to process it is Not Much bc the other three mata and the mahri are here and (after a round of MASSIVE HUGS for the metru and mahri reuniting and also the metru and Krika) theyve got a plan to beat the shit out of makuta

problem: the children of makuta have realized this is happening and decided to break out The Crabs to beat the shit out of THEM

mahri, metru and krika (and the chronicler's company much to everybody else's heart attacks) hold them off while the mata manage to fight against makuta after being briefly overwhelmed, uniting their powers to uh. Kill Him. which! IS NOT ACTUALLY GOOD. YOU KNOW. BALANCE AND ALL THAT. makuta is saved in the end by The Great Fucking Spirit who wakes up just in time to stop the mata before they murder his brother

the mata awaken before the Great Spirit and after a moment of "where are we? who are you? why didn't you let us kill makuta?" and getting their answers, they realize OH FUCK ARE YOU GOING TO PUT US IN THE STARS AGAIN? AND GIVE US AMNESIA? FUCK YOU YOURE NOT TAKING OUR FRIENDS AND SIBLINGS FROM US

Great Spirit, lovingly: ok :)

and tahu wakes up to ekimu working at the forge and none of his siblings around and he Shits His Pants, but ekimu quickly reassures him that everythings good and its been like, maybe a day or two since they managed to reawaken the Great Spirit. his siblings woke up before him and are probably down at the beach, and Makuta got driven off, all of his children following suit to take care of him, krika included. the mahri and the metru are catching up on the mata's tales from the chronicler's company. things are fine. they wont be like this forever, ekimu tells tahu, but they dont have to live in fear every second of their lives. rest a while. go see your siblings.

and it ends with the mata having a very sweet nap pile on the beach because they FUCKING deserve it after TWO whole generations ending with them not getting to just fucking sleep after EVERYTHING THEY GO THROUGH EVERY TIME

as you can see i have. Enormous Holes in this and theres things i havent explained and stuff (like how i unfortunately had to sacrifice hewkii x macku due to a Very Big age difference but they are still a power pair, just in this case its like older cousin acting as a mentor to the worlds most bloodthirsty weird little girl) but yes. have this. for now. please keep asking questions i love you

[deniigi]

A fic from Boba’s POV as a babysitter seeing Din’s family dynamics isn’t self indulgent it’s indulgent to your readers - fuck, that sounds like the best, most hilarious thing ever?!? (With peppered in bits of Boba’s identity crisis/diaspora feels)

I say you release babysitter boba fic ;) It sounds hilarious

Ask and you shall receive, anons. Beware. It’s like 11k of world building lol.

(I will post here and not on Ao3 because I’m not ready for that level of commitment rn lol)

Title: in the plains of Zeffo

Summary:

“I don’t like him,” Karren told Din.

“Concurred,” Din said.

“Ad’ika,” the Armorer scolded.

“I will not be shamed into liking him, either,” Din asserted.

“Din,” Karren whined.

“I’ll consider coming home if it means there will be no space for Bojzka,” Din said.

(Din’s original finder’s old crush on the Armorer is rekindled after he helps her reunite with Din. He tries to win her favor, but keeps getting tripped up by Din who knows she’s not interested. Boba Fett’s POV.)

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

There was little more entertaining than watching Djarin snap.

Boba ten years ago would have spat at the very idea that such meagre fare would suit his humor, but he was getting old, man. You had to take what you could get, and Djarin’s bared rage was a sight to behold.

Currently, he was locked in combat with Urro Bojzka. The Urro Bojzka. The one who even Boba had heard of, growing up on Kamino.

Dad had had some pointed feelings about Mr. Bojzka. Mainly, they revolved around how it was unfair that everyone called him an opportunistic traitor when Bojzka continued to exist and thrive in the universe at large, but Dad also had more specific feelings about Bojzka that bordered on jealousy.

Urro Bojzka was said to be the ideal Mandalorian man.

He was big. He was strong. He sounded like he’d smoked six different kinds of spice for forty years, and nothing and no one could take him down.

The cherry on top was that he was notorious for rescuing kids. The man had snatched nearly two hundred up out of smoking ruins and battlefields. A good twenty or thirty had become foundlings and then Mandalorians themselves, and counted among their number now, to Bo-Katan’s absolute glee, was their sweet, precious Din Djarin.

They should have known. Din was the epitome of Mandalorian; it figured that Urro Bojzka himself would have picked him up as a child.

Din however, had little appreciation for this fact beyond that which was only polite. He made it very clear that he’d already thanked Bojzka for taking him out of his childhood hellhole. He’d done that bare minimum and so no one could ask anything more of him.

Bojzka had other plans.

It turned out that Urro Bojzka had a thing for Din’s covert’s Armorer. God, did he have a thing. And not only did he have a thing, but he’d had it for decades.

Apparently, a thousand years ago, when Boba and Din and all the others around them had still been rolling around on dirt floors trying to eat beetles and shit, Bojzka had attempted to court Din’s Armorer. He’d gone as far and wide as a young Mando could. He’d tried flowers, perfume, credits, displays of strength and courage. He’d tried gifts of food and offers of travel. He’d even stooped so low as to read a book.

None of it had gone well for him. And that was probably because Din’s Armorer had recently proven herself to be no less than one of the heiresses of the Katzkai clan.

The Renda Bears. Those people were hard-fucking-core.

When Bo-Katan found out that Din’s ‘Goran’ was, in fact, Nomri Katzkai, the second daughter of Lanlee Katzai and the official apprentice of Fii Katzkai, the imperial Armorer himself, she threw up her hands and declared all endeavors hopeless now.

Din was one of them; he just didn’t know it. And his buir, who had removed herself from her family to be even more hardcore than anyone would have thought possible, didn’t seem overly excited to start explaining shit to him anytime soon.

So here they were. With Din about to kill one of the most famous war heroes in recent Mandalorian history over a crush that wouldn’t quit.

Bojzka smiled at him with dark eyes with scars through both of his eyebrows.

“Just a message,” he lobbied. “One letter.”

Boba would’ve fucked him. Yeah, why not? Just look at him.

“She’s busy,” Din said. “You’ll have to submit it to Eegang Quodo. That’s E-e-g-a—”

“Yeah, see. Here’s the thing, kid. This letter’s gonna be kinda personal, if you catch my drift—”

“Q-u-o—”

“—probably not great for the eyes of anyone who ain’t, you know, in on this whole relationship—”

“—d-o. He’s usually busy, too. So you probably should submit it to Paz, instead. He’ll lose it for you forever. That’s P-a-z—”

Fennec hid a razor-sharp grin behind a clenched fist. She flashed it at Boba.

‘I love him’ she mouthed, pointing at Din’s hiked-up shoulders. Even his cape seemed to have gone stiff in Bojzka’s presence.

“Din, honey. Listen to me,” Bojzka crooned. “I know you’re protective of your mama, but—”

“She’s not my mother. Don’t you fucking dare call her that, you hulking piece of—”

“Ah-ah-ah. You’re not listening. Come on. Chin up. Ears open.”

Bojzka tapped at the bottom of Din’s helmet like a CO with a teenage recruit, and Fennec just about screamed when Din went completely still and silent.

Bo-Katan met Boba’s gaze out of the corner of her eye. She mimed a syringe. Boba shook his head. If this fucker got bit, he deserved whatever infection it brought.

“Atta boy,” Bojzka said to Din’s rigid silence. “Here’s how it is: your mama and me go way, way back. And you know, after your touching reunion the other week, she even went and had a drink with me, and we got to talkin’ and started to reconnect, the old folks do. And I could read her body language, Din-Din. She wants a man. And that man’s me. So instead of actin’ like a child over all this, why don’t we—”

“She wanted Naseem,” Din snapped. “But Naseem died. Twenty years ago, he died. You just wear similar boots.”

Get ‘im, Djarin. Get ‘im.

“I—who?” Bojzka snapped.

“Naseem,” Din repeated like he was an idiot. “Traditional, bantha-sized, green armor. He worked all the time to keep all the kids in the covert fed.”

Bojzka processed this.

“Naseem what?” he asked stiffly.

“He’s dead,” Din said. “And Hajka left. So no. Goran needs neither a man or a woman, and especially not you. What she needs is a break and for Karren to stop fighting people on sight.”

Bojzka backtracked like a champ.

“Karren, that’s her youngest, right?” he asked. “Well, I bet Karren could use some sisters. I bet he’s lonely over there on, uh.”

“Zeffo,” Din gritted out. “And no. He’s not. He has three sisters. One of which is still at the covert, terrorizing him left and right.”

Even Bo-Katan could only empathize so much with Bojzka, war hero or nah.

“Why’re you all up in arms, Din? What’d I do to you?” Bojzka finally asked. “Don’t you want your buir to be happy?”

Din’s shoulders finally came down from his helmet.

“Of course, I do,” he said. “Which is why if you set so much as a toe on Zeffo, I’m taking both of your knees with me to Yavin.”

 --

Any parent would have been proud to have Din as their child. He took family honor to a level that even the Katzkai clan would have had a hard time sniffing at.

He had to have learned this from the wayward heiress. Although, if Boba was honest, he didn’t really think that the wayward heiress was all that wayward.

She’d come to visit Din on Tatooine. She was short and stocky and not terribly interested in the court or anyone outside of Din.

She wasn’t nearly as hostile as Bo-Katan expected either. She didn’t appear to love anything that she was looking at, no, but Din had explained that that was mostly because she wasn’t really a fan of him having become Mand’alor to start with.

When she came to visit, anyways, she was far more interested in getting a good fuss in to give herself peace of mind that Din was okay. That way she could then go back to dealing with the apparently endless series of crises at the new covert.

She was a great parent in that way. She even brought along her youngest, so that he could see his big brother.

That kid was fuckin’ adorable. Maybe fourteen or fifteen years old. Barely, barely, barely in armor. He was strapped into his leathers so tight, he looked like he was stuffed with straw.

He had medium-brown skin with yellow undertones and huge, nearly-black eyes. Coarse black hair poured into his face and curled around his ears—and if he thought he was going to stuff all that in a helmet one day, he had another thing coming.

He bopped after his buir when they entered the palace and stopped occasionally to stare up in awe at the palace’s high ceilings. Upon realizing that he’d lost his escort, he scampered along to catch up and did the whole thing again and again until buir had enough and snatched his hand.

He didn’t like that. He was fourteen-fifteen years old. He was too big for hand-holding, buir.

Never too old to be ignored, though.

“Goraaaaaan.”

“Hush,” the Armorer told him. “Keep up.”

He was handed off to Boba outside Din’s personal quarters, mostly because he was making such a fuss at the Armorer that she began contemplating leaving him at the palace forever. Din intervened and the kid latched onto him instead until Din convinced him that he’d be available talk just as soon as he and their buir were done speaking.

The kid’s name was Karren.

He and Boba were now best friends.

“—so Goran said, ‘I’m not having that idiot in my rooms.’ But then Eegang said, ‘we already have Paz in these rooms,’ and you’re not supposed to laugh, Mr. Fett, but we all did because we’re all stupid. So we had to do like, a thousand chores for eavesdropping.”

“So she’s not into him, then?” Fennec clarified. “He’s really into her, you know.”

“Of course, I know,” Karren lamented. “But Goran’s picky and the last person she was all close with was Hajka and we’re not allowed to talk about her anymore or Din’ll make you do two hundred push-ups while he watches.”

Amazing. Say more about Din’s oldest-child syndrome, little one.

“No, I like Din,” Karren sighed. “Now that Digo’s gone, he’s even nicer.”

Oh?

“What happened to Digo?” Boba asked as Bo-Katan joined them in curiosity.

“Digo’s a jerk is what happened,” Karren huffed. “She wanted Goran to give over the forge and join the elders, but Goran isn’t even that old. So when she said ‘no,’ Digo got mad and said that the only foundling Goran respects is Din. Which is bullshit because everyone knows that Goran has always been the nicest with Digo and Nasif—she made all sorts of excuses for them, Mr. Fett, like when they went out and got caught stealing parts like Jawas, she did four whole hunts to raise their bail. When Din gets in trouble, he takes care of it himself. He doesn’t ask Goran to do that kind of thing. And me and Shimmol just don’t get in that kind of trouble to start with—but no. Digo had to be all ‘if you don’t treat us as equals, then we’re gonna leave and start our own forge.’”

“No kidding,” Fennec said. “So they left?”

“Yeah, both of them ‘cause Nasif does anything Digo tells her to,” Karren said, kicking his feet. “And good riddance.”

Too many sisters, this one had. Boba felt for him.

“So Goran’s still recovering from that betrayal, I take it?” he asked.

Karren frowned and chewed a lip.

“I dunno,” he admitted. “No one tells me anything. I think that Goran’s been more worried about Din than them after all that happened. We thought he got crunched by the jedi—or at least I thought he got crunched. Paz says that Jedis compact Mandalorians into cubes of armor and Din’s got the best armor.”

Do not laugh at the child. Do not laugh at the child.

“I don’t think Jedis crunch Mandalorians,” Bo-Katan said generously, having snuck into the bare antechamber while everyone was distracted with the kid’s story.

“Well, I do,” Karren countered, with zero conception of who he was talking to.

Fennec beamed.

“Do you like this Urro guy?” she asked.

“No,” Karren answered immediately. “He’s sent Eegang four messages and they’re all gross.”

Yep.

It was gonna be a late puberty for this one.

“What makes them gross?” Bo-Katan asked.

“The mush,” Karren said expertly. “Bojzka calls Goran ‘Nomri.’ That’s a bad word at home. No one says that word. Goran is ‘Goran.’ The only people who call her anything else are the elders.”

“And you and your siblings, no?” Bo-Katan asked.

Karran cocked his head at her.

“Yeah, and ‘buir’ I guess, if we aren’t in trouble,” he said.

Bless him.

“Are you in trouble a lot?” Bo-Katan asked.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. I got a temper or something.”

“Is Din in trouble?”

“With buir? No, not like me and Shimmol. He’s too old to be in that kind of trouble. His trouble’s like ‘help, I fell a hundred feet off a cliff’ kind of trouble. He gives Goran indigestion, but she can’t make him reflect on falling a million feet out of a ship—Eegang says that’s called ‘rehashing trauma.’”

The covert on Zeffo sounded like it was holding itself together through sheer force of will and that alone.

Where did Boba sign up? It sounded like a fantastic experiment to pass the time.

“Are you a foundling, Karren?” Boba asked.

The kid lit up.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve been with Goran for five years now. Six in a few months. My dad’s a piece of shit. He killed my mom, and Goran got him arrested for that and for what he did to my auntie.”

Well, fuck. That explained a lot.

“And you like it there—on Zeffo?” Bo-Katan asked.

Karren shrugged.

“It’s cold and wet,” he said. “I liked Nevarro better. Din was home more on Nevarro.”

Awww.

“Aren’t you proud of Din for becoming Mand’alor?” Bo-Katan asked as gently as she could manage.

Karren’s frown eased up finally.

“No,” he said. “Din should just come home. He doesn’t need to be Mand’alor or married to some jedi. He should just come home. It’s stupid; his foundling should have stayed with us from the start. We always have room for more foundlings. I dunno why he had to leave with his foundling at all.”

Bo-Katan sat back and sighed.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “If it helps, I think he just wants to come home, too.”

“So let him,” Karren blurted out to her.

Tough tits, kid. That wasn’t how it worked.

“I think we should perhaps focus on one thing at a time,” Bo-Katan said. “What do you think, Fett?”

What did Boba think?

Boba thought that he had a great idea to distract this kid from missing his big brother.

 ---

Karren was perhaps a little too small still to reach the brakes in the crawler, but you know what? So was Fennec sometimes and she did just fine.  

“Gas,” Boba said, pointing. “Neutral. Brake. Park.”

“Gas, neutral, brake, park,” Karren repeated to him with his hands on the wheel and his knobbly wrists peeking out from the gap between his gloves and his leather braces.

Bo-Katan had refused to be present or responsible for this. Fennec had told them to wait while she went and took a shot first. ‘For safety’ she said.

“What’s neutral for?”

“You’re about to tell me,” Boba said, adjusting the rear view mirrors down to kid-height.

The sound of Fennec throwing herself onto the back of the crawler rattled through to their compartment.

“That’s our signal,” Boba said. “You ready to jam?”

“Jam?” Karren asked him.

Hm.

Punch it?

“Punch what?”

The fuck kind of slang did they use at the covert?

“Rock?”

“OH. Yeah, I’m ready.”

There we go. Onward march then.

 ---

An hour later, Din sighed with Karren whining under his arm.

“There is a reason he’s not trained yet, Fett,” Din said as Karren started chomping on the bunched-up flightsuit in his elbow.

The Armorer pressed both palms into the forehead of her helmet.

The crawler had perhaps seen better days. But it had also seen worse days, and Fennec was still going through little loops of cackling at the memory of having to chase after its open tailgate. Boba didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. The kid had done amazingly well for his first time at the wheel.

“I’m leaving all of you,” Karren grated out, trying miserably to escape Din’s elbow-prison. “I want to be Mr. Fett’s foundling.”

Bless him.

“You don’t,” Din told him forcefully. “Fett can’t handle a foundling.”

Ay, Boba would drink to that. He was happy to be a foundling-sitter and borrower, though.

“Buir,” Karren pleaded.

“You make me tired, child,” the Armorer told him. “Say goodbye to vod.”

“NO.”

Din sighed. The Armorer sighed. Karren, in a beautiful 180, latched onto Din’s ribs again.

“Come hooooooome,” he pleaded with Din.

“I caaaaaaan’t,” Din drawled back at him in a delightfully uncharacteristic tone.

“These people don’t need you. We need you. Shimmol took your bed and if you don’t take it back, she’s gonna keep it.”

Din’s shoulders dropped.

“I told Shimmol that she could take my bunk, Karren,” he said. “I’m not using it—”

“BUT YOU COULD BE.”

Boba took it back. He could take on a foundling. Fuck it, why not? This one was great.

“Come here,” Din said, dragging the kid up to his toes. He knocked the front of his helmet against Karren’s forehead with enough force that the bump was noticeable. That made the kid shut up and stand up straight on his own volition again.

“Soon,” Din told him forcefully. “Behave for buir.”

“Promise,” Karren demanded.

“Ehn.”

“Din, promise.”

“I dunno, kid. I’ve got a husband and all these damn kids to worry about.”

“Bring them. All of them.”

“No room,” Din said without missing a beat. “You have no idea how much space the husband needs to thrive.”

“Well, if you don’t come, then Urro’s gonna try to move in,” Karren snapped.

Din actually paused at that. The Armorer shook her helmet.

“Territorialism becomes neither of you,” she said. “If Urro wishes to join our covert, then we will treat him as we treat any other who wishes to.”

Din’s helmet seemed to squint at her. Karren glared outright.

“I don’t like him,” he told Din.

“Concurred,” Din said.

“Ad’ika,” the Armorer scolded.

“I will not be shamed into liking him, either,” Din asserted.

“Din,” Karren whined.

“I’ll consider coming home if it means there will be no space for Bojzka,” Din said.

“Carry on with your work and give my best to the jedi and the child,” the Armorer said with an air of dismissal. “Come, Karren. Thank you three for looking after him. Apologies for the vehicle. Come.”

Boba missed that kid already.

 --------

Bojzka, Boba had to say, really had no shame and he could almost appreciate that. Either that, or Din’s buir was a catch that the rest of them were failing to appreciate.

“How bad can it be?” the guy mused at Din’s stiff, furious hands mere days after the Armorer and Karren’s departure. “It’s a helmet, right? You can take it off with the people who matter, no?”

“We do not take it off,” Din said from between clenched teeth.

“Right, I got that. But there are exceptions for kids and spouses,” Bojzka said. “Or did I misread that part?”

Din was going to start shaking at any minute now. Bo-Katan assigned Boba the task of making sure he didn’t commit War-hero-homicide while she went off to find a calming device. It was only polite. It wasn’t Bojzka’s fault after all that he’d come in right after a tense meeting with a dissident group from Mandalore itself that made even Bo-Katan’s jaw jump.

“I think the rule is more important than the exceptions here,” Boba pointed out on Din’s behalf. “Joining the Children of the Watch isn’t something to take lightly.”

Din pointed at him wordlessly. Bojzka lazily followed the finger and then pointedly ignored Boba.

“What I’m hearing is that if we marry first, nothing changes,” he said.

Din’s index finger curled in with the rest of his knuckles until it was a fist.

“She is not looking to marry,” he said.

“What, so you speak for her now?”

“She is not looking to marry.”

“I can repeat things, too. Wanna see? You don’t speak for Nomri, Din.”

Boba was getting the feeling that Ms. Katzkai sort of did let Din speak for her in these types of situations. He was, after all, her oldest. And it sounded like he was the most loyal of her foundlings, too. If she shared anything personal with anyone besides her second in command, then it was going to be Din. That was just how these things worked.

“Did you call Eegang?” Din asked.

“I did,” Bojzka said. “He’s not especially helpful, I have to say. He keeps sending my missives back to me with grammar corrections.”

No. No. Keep it in, Boba. Keep it stoic.

“Eegang is the second CO at the covert,” Din said. “If you won’t take my word for it, then you’ll take his.”

Bojzka arched a fucked-up eyebrow.

“Eegang, the same guy who is allegedly secretly married to his partner? That Eegang?” he asked.

Din balked. Boba felt like electricity had just rocketed through him.

“Eegang is—” Din started.

“Nomri told me about him,” Bojzka said off-handedly. “She seems to think that he’s bitten off more than he can chew with taking on his last kid.”

“Eegang—”

“Something about baby being blind? Funny, did you not think that she trusted me enough to talk about her people?”

Any more of this and steam would start rising from the lip of Din’s helmet.

Thankfully, Bo-Katan returned with the jedi, AKA the calming device. Skywalker even came equipped with Grogu. They both appeared very confused and innocent, what with Skywalker drowning in his formal robes. They looked like they were going to absorb Grogu at any moment.

A+ distraction work, Kryze. Well done making yourself useful.

“Who’s Eegang?” Skywalker asked.

The line pulled taut across Din’s shoulders began to loosen.

“A comrade,” he said sharply in Bojzka’s direction.

“Is he nice?” Skywalker asked. Grogu chirped at him and resumed trying to dig into his multitude of collars.

“Very nice,” Din confirmed, staring deep into Bojzka’s eyes.

“He’s got foundlings, too?” Skywalker asked.

“Two,” Din confirmed. “Who he adores. Regardless of all challenges.”

Ah. It wasn’t just Eegang Din was protective of. It was the baby. Bojzka had really stuck his foot into that one.

“I’m sure the foundlings are fine,” Bojzka said. “It was just Nomri’s concern that—”

“Stop calling her that in my presence,” Din said. “In fact, let’s drop the whole thing now.”

 --------

Boba wanted to meet secretly-married Eegang. He sounded like he had a rich interior life. Din gave him a strong look and said that if the Armorer had left the covert, Eegang would not. One of them had to be there at all times.

Bo-Katan asked what Eegang’s speciality was.

Surprise, surprise: it was diplomacy.

Kryze was now invested. She followed Din around on his heels and suggested that if the Armorer gave words to Eegang to deliver during a formal meeting with the Mand’alor, then Bojzka might finally get the picture that Katzkai wasn’t interested in him.

Din thought about that.

He asked if this was not just a ploy for Boba and Bo-Katan to rally his covert comrades against him.

And it honestly wasn’t until he phrased it like that.

 -----------

Eegang was tall, sea-green, and in Bojzka’s face without so much as a by-your-leave.

“Three tests,” he threatened Bojzka with a baby on his hip. “One: stop sending transmissions. Two: get Elder Fayrz to approve your presence. Three: make even one of Goran’s foundlings like you. If you pass all three, your admission will be taken into consideration.”

The baby was very pink with curly hair so pale it was almost white. Its blue-gray eyes moved rapidly back and forth as it cuddled into its buir’s teal armor. Bojzka glanced from it to Eegang’s chipped helmet.

“Where did you find him?” he asked.

“Please give confirmation of your understanding,” Eegang said mechanically.

“He’s kinda cute.”

“Please give confirmation of your understanding.”

“Are you a droid or somethin’?”

“Please give—”

“Alright, alright. Fuck. This is confirmation of my understanding.”

“Excellent. This conversation is over,” Eegang said. “It is your responsibility to contact the elder and earn the approval.”

Bojzka jerked.

“Wait, what?” he said. “How am I supposed to do that if y’all won’t even let me through the door?”

Eegang’s helmet tipped so daintily to the side that Boba could have shed a tear.

“That sounds like a you-problem,” Eegang said.

 -----------

Eegang thereafter blocked Bojzka out of his mind and heart. He introduced himself with a dipping motion to Kryze and Boba that probably would have been more dramatic if he’d opted to wear a cape, which he did not. He revealed himself to be exceedingly polite and very fond of Din, though—if the gentle armor tapping and the use of the word ‘little brother’ was anything to go by. Din was usually receptive to gestures like that, Boba had learned, but not this time.

No, no. Din cared not for his ‘big brother.’ He cared only for the attention of Eegang’s baby.

“His name is Mesa,” Eegang explained after Din had kidnapped said baby. He introduced Mesa to Grogu who was stationed nearby, stuffed in the sleepy jedi’s shirt this time. . Grogu waved from Skywalker’s chest, but Mesa didn’t register the motion.

“His grandmother was quite ill, and it was her dying wish to see the child placed into the care of someone trustworthy. I have to admit, though, I may have made the decision a little rashly,” Eegang hummed as he watched Grogu lean as far as he could out of Skywalker’s clothing to try to make contact with his fellow foundling.

“Is he your first?” Bo-Katan asked.

Eegang winced.

“No, uh. I’ve got another,” he said. “She’s a huge fan of certain someones.”

“Me,” Din said without hesitation.

“And Paz,” Eegang said. “Which is a deadly combination.”

“She will be a mighty warrior,” Din informed Mesa and Skywalker. Skywalker twitched awake and didn’t understand anything that was happening. He noticed the baby, cooed, and waved with his gloved hand.

“She’s declared this one goat her nemesis and I cannot—I cannot—get her to just leave it alone,” Eegang said.

“A goat clan in the making,” Din said with approval.

“I’m hearing unnecessary commentary,” Eegang said without looking at him. “Please rephrase or shut up.”

Din seemed to gloat at the scolding. Skywalker glanced between him and his tall, teal comrade. He made his move and carefully came in to extract baby Mesa from Din’s arms to add him to his ever-growing collection. Grogu cooed again, closer now. He offered Mesa a hand, and this time, Mesa perked up and tried to grab at it clumsily.

“You manage the covert in the Armorer’s absence?” Bo-Katan asked Eegang. “You must be very dedicated to the Children of the Watch.”

“Define ‘manage’ and then ‘dedicated,’” Eegang said. “I prefer ‘accidentally charged with responsibility one too many times’ and ‘in too deep to turn back now.’”

“He’s being humble,” Din said. “Eegang has brokered peace between our covert and locals on numerous occasions.”

Eegang’s shoulders started to raise.

“Stop telling people that, they’re going to expect things from me,” he said, then popped back up like flipped switch. “Oh, I totally forgot why I even came. Jedi?”

Skywalker looked up from the conference of baby talk happening in his arms all wide-eyed, as though he’d been caught in the act of stealing imperial property.

“We did not welcome you into our covert,” Eegang said, “You must allow us to present you with a gift of welcome and entry.”

Oho. Very formal. Boba folded his arms and watched Skywalker for his reaction.

“A what?” Skywalker asked.

 -------

Bojzka was somewhat justifiably upset at the double standard going on here.

Skywalker was a jedi and yet welcomed into the covert with open arms and no admission requirements. He was, in fact, measured against his will for a set of armor. This was what Din’s buir had actually been after when she’d sent Eegang along to say hi.

Boba found that he enjoyed the reciprocation of ulterior motives that they were getting from Din’s covert. Kryze had never been happier. This was a game that she knew how to play.

“Wait no, hold up,” Bojzka interrupted. “I deserve a chance. Din, at least give me the name of one of your siblings so I can track them down with the elder.”

Din didn’t want to; there were foundlings happening and another meeting soon, but eventually even he had to give the guy something.

An honorable battle required at least two willing bodies.

 -----------

Din and Karren’s remaining sibling at the covert’s name was Shimmol. According to Din, Bojzka had next to no chance of gaining her favor because she did not leave the forge and therefore Bojzka had no access to her. Eegang corrected Din and said that Shimmol did, in fact, leave the forge, but never on her own volition.

She was preferred the dark. She hated social interaction.

To circumvent that, the Armorer had refused to induct her into the trade until she proved herself able to coexist with others. But Shimmol was eighteen, that fun age where no incentive or punishment was effective and digging your heels in was far more preferable to doing a damn thing your elders mentioned.

She’s announced that very weekend that she was officially becoming a recluse. Her present aspiration in life was apparently now to become a forge spider.

Bojzka, along with everyone else, had no idea how to receive this information. Kyrze took it upon herself to pat Bojzka on the shoulder and tell him to start with the elder. He might actually have some luck that way.

 -------

It took two weeks for Bojzka to re-emerge from whatever hellhole he’d had to walk a tightrope across to locate the covert’s elder Fayrz. He climbed in through Din’s personal quarters’ window and interrupted him and the Jedi in a moment of infrequent intimacy.

The sound of a body being throw over a bannister had a special kind of thud to it. Boba was up on out of his quarters in an instant.

Din flung Bojzka’s helmet after him. Skywalker had the grace to cover Djarin’s face with his shirt and walk him back into the room before anyone caught sight of it, telling Boba and Fennec, who had also emerged from her bed, prepared for drama, that all was fine. There was just a misunderstanding.

His bare torso was covered in scars. Boba found himself somehow surprised and impressed as the jedi unsuccessfully wrangled his furious husband back in the direction of bed.

He and Fennec peeked over the banister to see what had become of Bojzka. He was fine.

Fennec informed Boba that she was claiming part of his bed ‘in case anything else good happened’ since he was closer.

 -----

In the morning, Din was in marginally better spirits. Skywalker was to be found at his side, walking backwards and tripping over his cloak every four paces. He truly knew how to hit all Din’s ‘endeared’ buttons. If not to the earnestness and the near-miss of a disaster on the stairs, it would have looked like manipulation.

Bojzka attempted to rectify the peace by breaking into the court through one of the windows high up on the wall outside the second floor’s conference room.  This time, to ensure that he had Din’s full attention, he removed the jedi from the equation. Or he tried to anyways.

The jedi, in a split second, decided that, all joking aside, today, he would not be moved. His green saber managed to glow even in the sunlight pouring in to the hall.

“Do not touch,” he ordered, with both feet planted and Din and Grogu securely at his back.

Bojzka cocked his head at the saber pointed right at his nose.

“That’s a fun trick,” he said.

“Do not touch,” Skywalker repeated. “Me, him, or the child.”

“I’ll think about it,” Bojzka said. “Stand down before you regret it.”

“Luke,” Din said testily. “He’s not worth it.”

“Make me regret it,” Skywalker said to Bojzka.

Bojzka’s eyes widened slightly in interest. He used the back of his wrist to try to nudge the saber’s tip away and snapped his hand away from the burn.

“Do you expect me to be afraid of you, jedi?” he asked, trying to play it off.

Skywalker’s eyes reflected the light of his saber.

“Ask him what the glove’s for,” Fennec called from the far hall. Bojzka scoffed. Skywalker didn’t move.

“What happened to your hand?” Bojzka asked.

“My father cut it off,” Skywalker said. “But not to worry, I got a new one. Now step back. Sir.”

Bojzka didn’t move for a long time.

“Does it feel good to walk in the presence of these people?” he asked. “Is it a kink for you the way it was for your master?”

Boba had officially lost the plot. These were old politics now. Kryze would know what Bojzka was talking about, if only she deigned to come out from wherever she was hiding, which she wouldn’t. Of course.

“Does it offend you? My presence here?” Skywalker asked back without emotion.

“It doesn’t,” Bojzka said.

“I’m glad. That’s very convenient for me. I’d feel terrible if you bled out on these tiles,” Skywalker said. “So move.”

And goddamn. The mountain finally yielded to the sky.

 -------

Skywalker spent the rest of the day on high alert, with one hand on the hilt of his saber and his full concentration tied up with making fierce eyes into the palace’s corners to keep Bojzka at bay. It was really something to see. Din looked about ready to lay his fingers on his heart and swoon, and that was more than fair. If Boba’s spouse threatened to kill a man for looking at him wrong, he’d be touched too.

Fennec told Boba that she’d protect him from a man the size of a bantha but no larger, and it just didn’t have the same kind of ring.

She apologized and he told her it was fine. It was just in the delivery--and also, he’d murder anyone so blinked at her wrong, too.

She was pleased. Boba was glad they were on the same page.

“Let’s go find Kryze to negotiate,” Fennec said, “I need to know why Old Faithful’s back.”

 --------

Kryze’s commanding voice wrang out of Bojzka the real reason for his presence. The truth of the matter was that, War Hero aside, he was having a hell of a time getting the covert elder to grant him a second look.

Din told him that that was the point. Elder Fayrz was like that all day, every day and he’d change for no body, spiritual or physical. He bothered people when he wanted to bother them, and the rest of the time, he liked to pretend he was senile. He only really ever showed up if someone was buying a round or their life was in the balance.

Skywalker said that he sounded a lot like his late master.

Din agreed and said that Elder Fayrz had dedicated his life to two things: the covert children and fungi. Somehow, he made those two interests overlap. Din recalled being twelve and being taken out on a ‘mission’ by the old man who had informed him that he required his nose.

Elder Fayrz had no sense of smell. For a man with a fungi interest, he called this ‘very dangerous business indeed.’

Kryze demanded to know if all the weirdest Mandalorian elders still living had congregated at Din’s cohort which he quickly confirmed. Bojzka, however, demanded to know what would make this elder look him in the eye.

Din told him to go find a deathbed and lay on it.

He remembered belatedly to add ‘nearby Elder Fayrz’ to that statement.

 ----------

After about a month of this kind of back and forth, the Armorer decided that she’d had enough. She did not come to the Dune Sea. She sent a missive to Din informing him that he was coming home.

‘To talk,’ she said.

Boba vaguely remembered Karren saying something along the lines of ‘Din doesn’t get into trouble anymore,’ and was pleased to find that that was not the case. Din already knew what awaited him at his home covert and anyone with slightly more than a rock for a brain could see that it wasn’t going to be hugs and kisses.

Bojzka volunteered to accompany Din as a guard when the jedi made himself conveniently unavailable. Kryze and Boba flipped a coin while Din resisted stabbing him, and of course Boba won. Kryze flipped it again to be sure, and Boba told her sweetly that he’d send her a postcard.

“Have fun with the schmucks lounging around this place,” he gloated at Bo-Katan’s rolling shoulders.

She gave him two naughty fingers.

Whatever, girl. Sucks to suck. Bye, bye, now. Come on, Fennec. There’s adventure to be had.

 ---------

It was a ways to the new covert on Zeffo. Several hours, in fact, many of which were spent playing ‘I spy’ with Fennec while Bojzka gritted his teeth and asked them if they were always like this.

Fennec got Din to join in at that comment.

Eventually they ran out of white dwarfs and capes to identify and settled down into silence until the ship declared landing to be imminent.

Karren remembered Boba and the second he set foot inside the curiously constructed covert entrance. The kid came hurtling up to tackle him and wrap arms around his middle. It was endearing. Boba checked the doors to see if a guard would notice a kidnapping.

Fennec reminded him of child-based expenses. Her wisdom was invaluable as usual.

Karren scrambled away from Boba and, for a moment, made like he was going to attach himself to Din’s armor, but instead wriggled past Din to go tearing down the hallway. He skidded, crashed, and then clambered into a different room at the dead end of what appeared to be a row of barracks. Seconds later, Eegang exploded from one of the rooms adjacent wearing no armor but his helmet. He flung himself through the same doorway Karren had vanished through.

Din tilted his head.

“It’s fine,” a voice said behind them.

Their small party turned to see a woman wearing a cool purple helmet with only her flakvest on. Eegang’s pale baby was sat on her hip, pawing at her chest, trying to find purchase in the vest.

“Sotra,” Din greeted.

“Welcome back, brat-child,” Sotra said. “We missed you.”

This had to be Eegang’s secret-wife; unless she’d stolen that gurgling foundling in the night or something.

“Electrical?” Din asked, pointing at the far room.

“Loft,” Sotra said. “There’s hay, so of course all the kids have to be in it.”

“Just hay?” Din asked.

“And goats,” Sotra said.

Ah.

“We raise goats now?” Din asked.

“Oh, no, no,” Sotra said, sashaying past him towards the room her husband had abandoned, “It’s either coexistence or war, I’m afraid. The forge is past the hangar, keep going through the kitchens. Voxie knows you’re here—he’s awake, by the way. Welcome home, Din.”

“Thanks,” Din said. “This is my advisor, Boba Fett and our friend Fennec.”

Sotra splayed her whole, tall body into the doorway of her and Eegang’s barracks just as a fearsome battle cry sounded out on the other side.

“Hi,” she said.

“RELEASE ME,” a child in front of her about hip-height with serious bedhead shrieked in Mando’a.

Fennec’s eyebrows launched up to her forehead. Boba felt like he needed to record this so that Kryze understood what she was missing.

“Vod Din is home,” Sotra told the child.

“DIN.”

“Shhhh.”

“RELEASE M—mmf.”

“Shhhhh. It’s quiet time,” Sotra said with her free hand over the child’s mouth. “We’re being quiet.”

Din chuckled.

“Hey, Samo,” he said.

Samo let loose an ear-piercing scream behind her buir’s hand and ducked under Sotra’s legs. She ran at Din like there was a bomb behind her. Din caught her and swung her up to perch on his arm and she kicked relentless at his tassets in excitement.

“Shhh,” Din said. “People are sleeping—”

“YOU’RE THE MAND’ALOR. YOU’RE THE MAND’ALOR. YOU’RE THE—”

Doors started opening all down the line of barracks. A few curious, hazy, and lopsided helmets poked out from some of them, and from others, calls of ‘EYYYYYYY’ and chats ‘ALL HAIL THE MAND’ALOR’ started up, to Din’s immediate mortification.

This, Boba was delighted to realize, was not a cry of honor.

These half-asleep fuckers had been waiting months to embarrass Din. And he’d known that this would happen.

“Be quiet,” Din snapped all around him. “The elders are sleeping, you’re going to—”

“Well, well, well, look who’s finally home,” a taunting voice rang out on top of the rush. “If it isn’t the Mand’alor himself.”

“Paz,” Din sighed. “Not now.”

“When could there possibly be a better time, your liege?” a huge Mandalorian wearing full blue armor despite the early hour drawled from the doorway he’d attempted to casually lean in. Samo’s braids flew as her round cheeks snapped his way.

“Paz, don’t be mean,” she told him from atop Din’s arm. “Or it’ll be to the goats with ya.”

“Fuck me, the goats, what ever will I do?” Paz scoffed.

“BUIR, PAZ SAID A BAD WORD.”

“I heard him,” Sotra said scathingly, right at Paz’s visor.

“To the goats,” Paz’s neighbor hissed at him.

The hissing was taken up just as quickly as the earlier ‘all hails’ had been. Paz told everyone to shut up and mind their own asses. He was publicly booed until Eegang emerged from the loft room with Karren stuffed under an arm and demanded to know why people were congregating in the halls. He reminded everyone that that shit was a fire hazard, and in doing so, his tone changed completely from easy-going to Commanding Officer and the effect was immediate.

People scurried back into their rooms like frightened mice until there wasn’t a single open door left in the whole line.

Eegang huffed and traded Karren to Din for his daughter. Samo happily climbed onto his shoulders and held onto his chin. Karren grinned mischievously up at her, winked, and then thumbed back to the goat loft.

“Not the welcome you deserved, but the one you got. I’m afraid nothing has changed here,” Eegang told Din compassionately, wrapping his fingers around Samo’s ankles. “I see you brought friends.”

“And foe,” Din said, gesturing at Bojzka who beamed.

Eegang’s visor contained a grimace that would otherwise have wracked his whole body.

“You got in,” he deadpanned.

“Sure did,” Bojzka said. “Lovely place you have here.”

And honestly? Yeah. It sort of was. Maybe a little ramshackle, what with all the scaffolding and haphazard support beams thrown into the walls to keep the wet earth above ground from crushing everyone below it, but for all the unsteadiness, it was oozing with comradery. Family.

Behind each of those doors was a little unit like Eegang and Sotra’s or perhaps a tired body, barely extracted from its boots, taking comfort in this honeycomb of tunnels and rooms.

Boba couldn’t help but wonder how he and Dad would have done in a place like this.

“We try,” Eegang said flatly. “I’ll let the Armorer deal with you herself—if she’s awake, I mean. Otherwise, you’re condemned to Shimmol. I’m going back to sleep. Vok is waiting for you, keep going straight through the kitchens, Din.”

“Thank you,” Din said. “Sleep well, Vod.”

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, Monster. No goats for now.”

Samo waved at Boba and Fennec with a smile as bright as the sun. She ducked expertly as Eegang passed through the doorway to their quarters. He closed the door behind them.

 ------

“You don’t see families like that much anymore,” Bojzka hummed as Din led their troop down the hallways, through a series of ladders into a kitchen and then from there into a surprisingly neat, up-to-date hangar with concrete floorings. Six crafts were parked inside, tucked into the tight space like fish in a barrel.

“We have a few,” Din said. “I don’t know how many people are living here now, though.”

Given the size of the place? Maybe fifty or so, if Boba had to take a guess. There had been several sets of boots lining the wall outside the barrack doors.

Din picked his way through the crafts to two tarps covered in piles of spare, rusting, and grease-covered parts. At the end of the aisle between the tarps was a rectangle bordered by wooden benches and to the left of that was a little box that a mechanic presumably operated from. The box, however, had no windows. Its door was slightly ajar.

Din knocked and a snort and a slurp answered him.

“Jus’ a mo,” a thick voice said inside.

Fennec looked at Boba with intrigue.

“Tool gnome,” she said.

No, friend. Just a grease-monkey.

“Tool gnome,” Fennec insisted.

The door opened and a man at least six feet, two inches peered out of it.

“Tool giant,” Fennec amended in a whisper.

“Is that you, Din?” the mechanic asked. His helmet was rusty red and gray. Its visor had a yellow tint to it.

“It is,” Din said. “It’s been a while, Vok. These are my—”

“Forget them. Goran told me what you did to Razor.”

Din cringed.

“I—”

“AH. No. I don’t wanna hear it,” Vok said. “I just—I’m glad you’re safe, but you ain’t touching any more of my children, you hear me, boy?”

Din sunk into his shoulders in shame.

“I hear you,” he said.

“You’re damn right you do,” Vok said. “Man, I had a whole speech written out and shit, and here you are, early as the fuckin’ dawn. Did you miss Paz?”

“We did not,” Din said.

“I tried to have him do an inventory, I did,” Vok said sympathetically. “But he wasn’t havin’ it. Took an IOU and everything.”

Din sighed.

“Thanks for trying,” he said. “Is the forge...?”

“That way,” Vok said, gesturing to the far end of the hangar, where a series of scaffolding led up to a dark hole in the wall. “Mind your step. Stairs are next on my list. Who’re your friends?”

Din introduced them. Vok considered Fennec and after a moment of thought, saluted her. She tipped her jaw to the side and gave him a once-over.

“Din’s got my number if you’re not busy,” Vok said.

“I’ll take it under advisement,” Fennec said.

“I hope you do, my darlin’. You? Boj-whatever? I heard about you. You can go fuck yourself.”

“Thanks, Vok, we’re going now,” Din intervened.

 ----------

Fennec said nothing on the way up the scaffolding. She didn’t need to. Boba applauded her.

 ---------

The forge was the least finished part of the covert, and Boba could respect the Armorer’s dedication to looking after the flock before her own needs. Not that the forge wasn’t a comfortable place. Upon entry, Bojzka whistled at all the equipment inside. There were steel beams crossing in hatches along the ceiling. It appeared as though someone was working on a ventilation mechanism up there. Ropes and pipes hung down from the beams as though a pulley system had been recently removed.

The forge itself was a huge circular structure with a high wall around its exterior. It was built of a slick-looking black material. There were three water troughs set up in a line behind it and two rudimentary wood blocks with anvils set on them. Benches littered with iron tools sat next to the anvils.

Din appeared very at home in this place, despite not having even been in it. He wove around the accoutrements of the room towards a wooden door that had been placed on hinges on the far side like an afterthought.

He knocked.

“We don’ want any,” a sleepy woman’s voice drawled.

Boba jumped as a something brushed his elbow and discovered that Karren had followed them all the way down to the forge. His soft boots had hidden his footsteps, but, like Din, he was now in a place that he knew like the back of his hand. Din grabbed the scruff of his neck as he went for the door with both hands.

“You’re supposed to be in the nursery,” Din told him. “Shoo.”

“Shimmol, Din’s home,” Karren said through the door. “Goran, Din’s home.”

Very cute. Karren wanted to be the one to shared the news. Din pulled him back as shuffling started up on the other side of the wooden door.

It opened to reveal a fluorescent pink helmet with floral patterns painted down the edges in white.

“Din?” the young woman, who could only be Shimmol, asked.

Din’s brain stuttered.

“Uh?” he said.

Shimmol’s flightsuit was once white, but it was burned and smudged to gray all over. Her heavy gloves were half-burnt on both hands, too. She surged forward into Din’s chestplate. Din hugged her back awkwardly.

“Hello, sister,” he said. “This is, uh.”

“Do you like it?” Shimmol asked, pulling away from him to touch the edges of her helmet. “I thought it was cute. Wait til you see the pauldrons. They match.”

“They’re hideous,” Karren said.

“Did anyone ask you?” Shimmol flung at him. “No, I didn’t think so. Get gone, womp-rat.”

Wow. No wonder Karren was desperate for Din’s attention.

“I’m not a womp-rat,” Karren said. “I’m a Tooka. Goran said so.”

“You know, what you actually are is a ‘nuisance,’ so it doesn’t matter what—”

“Children.”

And lo and behold. The lady herself. Gold helmet and everything.

“Din,” the Armorer said, placing a hand on Shimmol’s side to move her. “Welcome home.”

Din accepted the helmet touch with grace.

“Bojzka,” the Armorer said next. “I didn’t expect to see you in my home so soon, or at all.”

Bojzka beamed.

“You’ve grown a beard,” the Armorer noted. “It does not become you.”

Boba coughed into his elbow to hide the bark of laughter screaming to escape his throat. Fennec thumped at his back.

“Let’s move somewhere with more light,” the Armorer said. “Karren, Shimmol. You’re dismissed for the next hour. Go eat breakfast.”

“But—” Shimmol started.

“Up, up, up,” Karren chanted, getting behind her and shoving hands into the small of her back. “It’s people-time.”

“Leave it. I hate people-time,” Shimmol said. “I thrive on darkness. It sustains me better than food.”

Din looked desperately into the Armorer’s helmet. The Armorer ignored him and told Shimmol that she knew this to false and to stop whining. Upstairs, now.  

The kids relented and left the forge. Din pointed after them.

“I know,” the Armorer said. “Let her work through it.”

Din pointed even more insistently.

“No, no. It’s true,” Bojzka said. “Mine went through the same thing.”

 --------

The Armorer sat them all down at a ‘u’ shape of benches on the far side of the forge. She turned on some overhead lights. They lit up the forge and threw its equipment’s shadows harshly against the floor.

“Thank you for coming,” she said lightly. “It takes a long time to get to Zeffo, even in the Outer Rim.”

“It suits you,” Bojzka flirted.

“It does not,” the Armorer countered unrepentantly. “And your flattery remains aggravating.”

Bojzka didn’t seem to process the meaning behind those words, too busy he was with basking in the Armorer’s presence. She ignored him to turn to Din.

“Eegang tells me that you have been aggressive towards Bojzka, ad’ika, is this true?”

Din hunkered down into his shoulders. He didn’t want to answer. The Armorer didn’t make him.

“This is unnecessary,” she said. “Bojzka does not bother me.”

Bojzka rounded a gloating grin at Din.

“He is delusional, but I’m afraid that head trauma does this over time,” the Armorer said lightly. “There is no need to defend my honor—I’ve already had this conversation with Eegang, so know that it is not only you who I’ve spoken to about this. And Bojzka.”

“Yes, dear?” Bojzka hummed.

“I would appreciate it if you ceased in antagonizing my foundling and second.”

“I’m not trying to, Nomri.”

“I know,” the Armorer said. “And that is where I believe this tension arises from. Din, you and your advisor may leave. I’ll handle this. In future, know that it is not your place to speak on these matters in my stead, yes?”

“Yes, Goran,” Din mumbled.

The Armorer waited.

“Buir,” Din corrected.

“Thank you. The last thing I need is the Mand’alor becoming invested in old-standing relationships. You may go.”

Din stood and Boba and Fennec stood with him.

“He is not Naseem,” Din said right at the doorway.

The Armorer’s helmet turned slowly his way.

“No one will ever be Naseem,” she said. “It’s okay. Go.”

 -----------

Boba need the full story on this Naseem guy approximately yesterday, but all he had at his disposal in the kitchens where he, Din, and Fennec had been banished was a collection of foundlings all staring up at their party looking guilty as hell.

In the midst of their group was a ten-year-old holding a glass jug absolutely brimming with frogs.

Boba had never seen this many foundlings together at once before, and he had to say: these traditionalists knew exactly what they were doing. There was nothing quite like a whole mass of youths to shift the mood.

The kids made a break for it.

  Fennec was the fastest of all of them, but even she was not as fast as the bodies that popped their heads out of the rattling back room and launched themselves without warning over the few rows of tables set out in the main space.

Din’s covert collectively looked after the little ones, he explained when one of these bodies returned with the wrist of a shrieking Twi’lek child in their grip. The shrieking cut off when the nurse dropped down into a crouch and flattened both of the child’s hands against their helmet so that they left splotchy prints behind.

Two of the folks who filed back into the room covered in mud did not wear helmets. Din didn’t recognize them until they spoke and said their names. They’d removed their helmets back on Nevarro, apparently, and they had not to put them back on. Now, they wore veils and headscarves—neither of them comfortable with their whole heads and faces on display.

One of these was a woman named Madda. She saw Din’s helmet and froze by one of the long tables.

“Din, I’m so glad you returned,” she said with hitching breath. And then she took her newly-acquired jug of frogs and went tearing back down the hallway towards the covert’s main entrance. Din watched after her, confused.

“Is the transition difficult?” he asked one of the other Mandalorians next to him.

Their helmet showed zero emotion, and yet Boba gleaned from it everything he needed to know. He put a palm on his forehead.

“Djarin, come here,” he said.

 -------------

Din chased after Madda to apologize for fucking up what was probably a years-long infatuation at this point. Fennec watched after him with a sly grin. But the Mandalorian with the flat helmet turned to Boba with far more open shoulders.

“You got through to him like that,” she said, snapping her fingers.

“It’s his secret talent,” Fennec told her.

“What was your name?” the Mandalorian asked.

“Boba Fett,” Boba said. “And yours?”

“Jhuvac.”

“Nice to meet you,” Boba said politely.

“Aren’t you the clone-guy?”

Welp.

“I prefer ‘Fett,’” Boba said.

“Nah, I feel that,” Jhuvac said, tossing her scarf over her shoulder. “Paz calls you the ‘clone-guy’ is all. That shit’s wild, by the way. But you can’t help your dad’s decision now can you?”

What was this? Understanding? From a traditionalist? Kryze would lose her shit.

“I can’t, although everything after that was totally me,” Boba said.

Jhuvac glanced back at him.

“Including the Solo stuff?” she asked.

Boba lifted a brow.

“Is there something you would like to know?” he asked.

“No,” Jhuvac said. “I know everything I need to. But you know what’ll make Vok’s life miserable?”

 ---------

The mechanic was a huge fan of Han Solo, and he had a list of reasons why Boba should cease hunting  the man about as long as one of his lanky arms. He listed them out one by one in his hangar full of metal scrap. Jhuvac was very correct when she said that the mere mention of Solo meeting his maker would cause Vok immense misery. Boba could see how it could be entertaining.

Fennec made it even more entertaining by poking holes in each of Vok’s carefully laid out arguments.

He kept asking her why she was hurting him like this. Was this a domination kink?

Fennec asked him if he wanted it to be.

Vok walked it all back and told her to do her worst.

Jhuvac decided that she suddenly had other things to do and invited Boba to accompany her on these things. Boba assented and left Fennec to her business.

 ----------

In the end, Boba found himself outside in a group huddle with a handful of covert people, two with no helmets, watching the feud between the foundlings and the local wildlife. The covert, he learned, broadly did not like Zeffo. They hated how wet it was. They hated how cold it was. 90% of them had grown up in desert climates, the remaining 10% in ice climates.

Zeffo, as far as they were concerned, was a backwater hellhole that they’d had little choice in selecting.

“It was this or breaking up and forming two coverts,” Sotra explained, removing Mesa’s captured snail from his face area for the third time. She gave the snail to the guy next to her who got up and took it down to the edge of the nearby river. He stooped to set it in the grass, then froze in shock when a fish’s wide mouth erupted from the water and encapsulated his whole glove.

It left the glove wet and empty.

“But you didn’t want to do that?” Boba asked.

“No, if we separated, it would be Eegang at the head of the new covert,” Sotra said. “And that’s just not in the cards for us right now.”

Gotcha.

“The children didn’t want to be separated either,” one of the Mandalorians with no helmet said. “Goran gave them the option, but things were frantic, you know. They cling to each other when they’re young like this.”

More than understandably, in Boba’s humble and correct opinion.

“What do you all think of Bojzka?” Boba asked them.

“Who?”

“The bull with no helmet? Beard?” someone said.

“The one trying to court the Armorer?” Sotra asked.

Everyone clambered back onto the same page in the face of this descriptor.

“He’s supposed to be some kind of hero,” Jhuvac said. “But I dunno, man. He seems a little, uh.”

“Goran’s too good for him,” Sotra interjected simply. “Imagine stooping so low after a life of respect and service.”

“He’s not ugly,” the Mandalorian who’d lost the snail pointed out. “I’d bang him.”

“You’re not a good bar, Ban.”

“I could be.”

“You’re the lowest bar, Ban.”

“Can’t be disappointed if your expectations on the floor.”

“Go bang him for Goran then,” Jhuvac said. “I can’t tell if she thinks he’s kinda cute or if she wants to stab him in the heart.”

“For the good of the covert, I will endure this hardship,” Ban said.

He was unceremoniously yanked back down when he started to stand.

“Din mentioned some guy named ‘Naseem?’” Boba asked.

The name alone sent the group into titters.

“Naseem was so nice.”

“Naseem was great, you have no idea. So respectful.”

“He wanted to take Din on so bad, it was almost heartbreaking. He and Goran were perfect for each other. He was so happy around her; I don’t think he ever talked in front of anyone else.”

“God, when he died, I cried so hard. I cried for days.”

“Same.”

“Same.”

“Same.”

“Kind of a tough reputation to beat, then?” Boba asked.

“Oh definitely,” Jhuvac said. “I mean, there was Hajka after him, but she was just so explosive. Like, she made Goran laugh a lot, I remember that, but she was kinda awkward, too. There was a battle on her home planet and she left everyone here to defend what was left of her people.”

“Goran collects the awkward ones, they’re her favorite,” Sotra said.

“You can’t judge her, you collect Eegangs,” Ban pointed out.

“There is only one Eegang.”

“Girl, we know.”

There was a pause while Sotra handed off her child so that she could beat the shit out of Ban on the lumpy grass. Jhuvac handed Mesa over Boba’s lap to the quiet person at his right. They took the baby without question and laid him on their chest.

“Where did you grow up, Boba?” Jhuvac asked. “Sorry, Fett. Do you like Fett?”

Boba was taken aback. It had been ages since someone had called him by his first name—and a Mandalorian no less.

“Boba is fine. I grew up on Kamino,” he said.

“With a covert?”

No, no covert. No anyone, really. Boba was what people in white coats tended to call ‘under-socialized.’

“That’s sad,” Jhuvac said. “It must have been lonely.”

It was, actually. Especially after Dad had died.

“That’s so sad, I’m gonna cry,” Ban said. “Join our covert.”

All helmets and eyes rounded on Boba and he felt like his collar was suddenly digging into his neck. He shook his head.

“I’m not really a Mandalorian,” he said. “It’s not right—”

“Bullshit.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Jhuvac, let ‘im talk.”

“No, that’s bullshit. Listen, Din has ‘don’t trust people’ syndrome. If he trusts you enough to bring you with him here, then you’re Mandalorian enough for us,” Jhuvac said. “And anyways, being a Mandalorian is about what you do, not who you are. It doesn’t matter if you’re clone-guy so long as you follow the Creed in a more or less northernly direction.”

Boba stared at her and realized that everyone was staring at him again. He cleared his throat but found that he didn’t have any words trapped back there like he’d thought.

“Or easternly,” Ban offered to break the awkwardness.

There were still no words on Boba’s tongue. He struggled to say at least something.

“I—th—that’s kind of you,” he eventually managed. “I don’t think I could cut it here, but that’s really kind of you.”

The Mandalorians exchanged looks and shrugs.

“Know that the offer stands if you feel any pull towards it later,” Sotra said. “We have a number of reformed who converted and who move in and out of our covert. Not recently, but when we were children, there were more. Goran, too, was once a reformed Mandalorian.”

“My buir, too,” Jhuvac added.

“My ba-buir was reformed,” Ban said. “But she might have caused a public riot. Or two. Or three.”

“Speaking of which,” Sotra said. “Elder Fayrz has emerged from his cave.”

“I’ll get him,” Jhuvac sighed.

Boba frowned and looked from them out to the hill the foundlings had selected to gossip on. A Mandalorian in black and white with a green cape was, indeed, now kneeling among them. Every face was turned towards him in wonder.

“I’ve heard of this guy. He looks fun,” he noted.

At least one hand from every body came up to clutch at their face.

“That’s exactly the problem,” Ban said.

 ------

Din rejoined Boba in the midst of Elder Fayrz’s attempt to recruit him into the covert. He somehow knew Dad. That in itself was a little disarming. At first, Boba hadn’t believe that the elder was speaking the truth, but then he started up with alarmingly specific training corp numbers and mentioned off-handedly that he used to work in the corps, training kids from six to fourteen.

It made sense now why, in old age, he was considered the most dangerous person in the covert to have around the foundlings.

Grandpa was a serial spoil-er and mischief-instigator. The children saw in him everything they wanted out of life and were loathe to be separated from their most favorite old man.

Din got between him and Boba and informed the Elder that he’d just gotten married.

The Elder’s attentions went rocketing in the opposite direction. He wanted pictures, he wanted to know all about the reception, he wanted to know why Din hadn’t brought his partner home with him, what color their armor was, where they were presently based—the whole barrel of spotchka.

Boba appreciated the save.

He also appreciated the moment when the Elder fully realized that Din had, in fact, married a real jedi.

“YOU STUPID BOY.”

There it was.

The children bustled and whispered.

“This is what happens when we do not teach them to read—where is your buir? I told her, I told her that you needed more lessons. Always with the dogs, I knew it would have some effect—”

Din couldn’t even argue. He and Kryze had been over the very same deficit about sixty times. If they were lucky, Bo-Katan gave him a day or two off in between scoldings.

While the old man was outraged, Din signaled to Boba that they would be leaving soon.

 --------

Bojzka joined Boba, Din, and Fennec at the ramp of their ship about ten minutes late. The Armorer personally showed him out of the covert and told him to return only if the galaxy began to collapse in on itself. She was at least cordial about it, which, in hindsight, was probably why Bojzka was having a hard time reading the glaring ‘please desist’ sign flickering over her head.

“Be safe,” she told Din while Karren made sad sounds behind her.

“Will do,” Din said. “Next time, I’ll see if Luke will come.”

“We would like to have him,” the Armorer said.

She dipped her helmet to Boba and Fennec and they returned the gesture.

“I hope you were well-received by the others,” she said. “Bojzka, good bye.”

“Talk to you later,” Bojzka hummed.

“We shall not,” the Armorer said.

 ---------

Back in the Dune Sea, Kryze was waiting in one of the conference rooms. Din avoided her and all her probing questions. Boba did not. He was in a sharing sort of mood and Fennec had a ‘thanks for the lay’ message to compose to Mr. Vok.

Kryze crossed her legs and gestured for him to join her at the table.

He did and crossed his legs right back.

“So?” she asked.

“Shocking peaceful,” Boba said. “Violent mostly towards their own members. Tried to recruit me at least three times.”

Kryze’s eyebrows did a little dance.

“Surprising,” she said.

“Not very,” Boba corrected. “Din is one of the more reserved members. He resembles his buir more than I expected.”

“And Bojzka?” Kryze asked.

“Soundly rejected, but somehow optimistic about it,” Boba said. “The good news is that Din’s been forbidden from trying to kill him.”

“That is good news,” Kryze agreed.

There was a long pause.

“Are you thinking about it? Joining, I mean?” Kryze asked.

“No,” Boba said, “But it is nice to occasionally be around Mandalorians who don’t have sticks up their asses.”

“Unicorns,” Kryze said.

“A whole covert of them,” Boba told her with a smirk. “Maybe it’s not them. Maybe it’s you all.”

“I beg to differ,” Kryze said. “If the issue is resolved, then I suppose we’ll have to move back on to official business.”

That was no fun.

“Why is Fennec so smug?”

Oh, that was more fun. Sit back down, Lady. This is going to be a bawdy one.

[descendantofthesparrow]

Shuffle Playlist - Rewrite - Part of Your World - Harry Hook x Reader - Part 14 - Discoveries

=

Evie hung one of the last dresses on the transportation rack, when a knock sounded on her door. She pushed the dresses apart for her to step on the other side and called out; “come in!” Doug entered moments later, a smile on his face.

“Hey! How was the camping trip?” Evie turned to him with furrowed brows.

“C-Camping?” Doug's smile diminished and he looked at her slightly confused.

“yeah?” He tilted his head at Evie “Carlos and Jay said you and the others went on a last-minute camping trip to relax?...is-is that not what you did?” Evie sighed, the questions running through her mind stopping as she realized what had happened.

“oh, um, yeah they lied to you” Doug looked a bit offended “you see, Ben was kidnapped on the isle” now he looked alarmed “let me finish, we saved him and saved Auradon” Doug let out a small sigh of relief and took Evie's hands.

“is everyone okay?” Evie looked off to the side for a moment “you hesitated what happened” She grimaced and shook her head a bit.

“um, well…you know how our parents are kinda pieces of shit?” Doug looked surprised at the swear but nodded “well… Harry's dad is…kinda really bad and…that didn’t turn out well on Harry's side…that’s all I’m saying” she gave a small smile and turned, grabbing some of Dizzy’s accessories that she had brought back with her and sliding some on her arm to carry easier.

“Is he okay now?” Doug asked quietly, stepping to her side and leaning into her field of vision.

“yes” Evie assured him “Mal healed him when we left the isle and he’s with (y/n) now, he should be just fine for cotillion tomorrow~” Doug nodded and gave Evie a small smile.

“that’s good, you had me really worried for a moment there, was anyone else hurt?” Evie thought for a moment then shook her head.

“Mal has a cut on her cheek but that was the worst of our end thankfully.” She gave another smile and looked back down at the accessories “you know…while I was there…I realized something” Doug put his hand on her shoulder “I was lucky enough to be given a chance, and now I need to give someone else a chance too” her mind flashed back to five months ago when Harry had asked Ben to bring Uma over, and maybe after cotillion she could ask about Dizzy?

“My uncle bashful used the say that” Doug switched the topic, sensing Evie was not in the mood to talk about what had happened on the isle with him. Evie smiled, happy with the sudden change and turned to him, her brow raised a bit.

“did he?” Doug nodded, then pursed his lips a bit.

“but, really-really quietly” Evie laughed, spinning around to face the transportation rack and gesturing to it.

“come on, we have dresses to deliver~!” Doug happily obliged to her non-verbal request and moved to the rack, pushing it as Evie pulled it out of the room.

-

Two hours later, after every dress had been delivered, Evie returned to her room and grabbed her last two outfits she had to deliver.

A red rose gown and a red and black suit.

She handed the outfits to Doug and dug into her bag again, finding the red ruby earrings with small crossbones skulls hanging from the top. “perfect” she muttered, carefully holding them in her hand and leading Doug to (y/n)s room.

She knocked on the door, humming as a couple of moments passed by and no response came. She knocked again and sighed when again no response came, she gently opened the door and cooed as she looked inside the room.

On (y/n)s bed was her and Harry, curled up together under her many blankets as soft yellow fairy lights hung above them, the title screen of a movie playing on her tv.

Evie snuck into the room, gesturing Doug to be quiet as she set (y/n)s new earrings on her desk and motioned for Doug to hang hers and Harry's outfits on her closet door.

Evie spotted (y/n)s notepad on her desk and wrote out a small thank you note, pinning it to her corkboard that hung just next to her desk.

She ushered Doug out and turned, smiling at the sleeping couple, and slowly closed the door behind her, shushing it as it shut with a loud click.

“There we go” Evie sighed, turning to Doug and wrapping her arm around his “I’m starving, how about you?”

“Food sounds good” he chuckled, guiding Evie to the cafeteria.

-

Carlos watched from afar as Mal swung her feet just of the gazebo floor, her toes just grazing the cool lake water. He froze as she turned to look at him, her emerald green eyes softening and she invited him closer, turning back to the water as he did so and sat down beside her.

Mal laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, while she and Carlos hadn’t been friends before Auradon, she was glad that she had him by her side now.

“so…you broke up with Ben?” Carlos started, giving Mal a soft smile as she looked up at him. She slowly looked back down at the water as she thought of what to say.

“I…yeah” she sighed, letting her weight fully lean onto Carlos, who lifted his arm and wrapped it around her shoulder. “I’m just…not ready for the relationship he wants…I know I hide my feelings and shit but…I really don’t know how he expected me to just, be good with all of this Auradon lady stuff within six months…I feel like a failure” Carlos let out a low hum, squeezing Mal's shoulder.

“well, you aren’t, you did your best, and your best was good enough, you just found out that that life…isn’t going to work out for you, it goes against your mental wiring, yes maybe you could adjust to it but would you be happy with it?” Mal pursed her lips, Carlos shook her a bit “well?”

“no” Mal muttered, picking at the loose thread on her pants “no I wouldn’t be happy like that…Ben…he said he wanted me…the real me, the isle me-wait…no he wouldn’t want her, she's rude as fuck” Mal smiled at the snort that erupted from Carlos, before it slipped off as she remembered something. Mal stopped Carlos as he was about to speak again “Hey…I did this for Evie but…I wanted to do the same for you” He looked at her confused “I’m sorry for the way I treated you when we were on the isle” he looked off to the side for a moment before he realized what she meant.

“oh! Yeah, it's no biggie” he attempted to brush it off but Mal adamantly shook her head.

“No! it's not “no biggie!” I treated you, Evie, and sometimes Jay, horribly! Even after we became friends! You were and are deserving of kindness, and I’m sorry that I was so fucked up that I was the rottenest little brat to you” Carlos stared at her with wide eyes. “what?”

His shocked look melted into a comforting grin “Thank you Mal” he wrapped his arms around her, pulling into a tight hug that only lasted a moment “sorry, just remembered; you’re not really affectionate” he laughed, grinning wider as Mal giggled along.

“it’s-its fine when it comes from you three” Mal hummed, turning to look back at the lake.

“sooo back to the Ben break up talk?” Carlos tried, smirking as Mal blew a raspberry “come on, you need to talk it out with someone, or else you’re gonna explode keeping it all bottled up.”

“…I’m happy I broke up with him” Mal spilled, not looking at Carlos as his brows shot up “I thought about our future and I realized if I kept doing what I was doing, and we kept going with how we were…neither of us would have been happy…I need to learn to love myself before I can love him properly, because…if (y/n)s forced quote an’ unquote therapy sessions” Carlos laughed at that “taught me anything. It’s that…I rely on someone else's love to measure my self-worth”

Carlos hummed, squeezing Mal's shoulder again “that’s not a good thing”

“no!” Mal huffed, running her hands through her hair and pulling at the roots “it isn’t! I've been trying to earn my mother's love for 16 years, then I just hop to doing so much bullshit to make sure Ben will love me! I dyed my hair blonde, I dressed in those itchy dresses, I dropped my entire personality for all that! And-and it wasn’t good, I felt like I was slipping away Carlos” Mal sobbed, tears trailing down her cheeks as she finally broke “I don’t even remember what I’m supposed to act like without all that because I spent so long doing it I just-I forgot what being ME felt like” Carlos fully wrapped his arms around Mal and pulled her tight to his side.  “I-I know it sounds like I’m being pathetic and having a fucking pity party but I’m just so fucking scared Carlos” Mal whimpered, throwing her arms around Carlos’ torso and pushing her cheek against his shoulder “on the isle my life was commanded by my mother and my identity was pleasing her, and here my life has been being Ben’s girlfriend and pleasing the people of Auradon so they think I’m not some villain whose just after Ben because he’s king…I-I do really like Ben Carlos”

Mal sniffed, pulling back one of her arms and wipe her nose “I do, it's just that…being with him hasn’t helped me move on from my mother bullshit and im-gah!” Mal let out a yell, pulling back from Carlos and burying her face in her hands “I’m having a fucking identity crisis because of my fucking mother! Why can’t she just leave me alone! Why can't all this dumb shit be left behind five months ago! Why do I still have to deal with it?!” Carlos let Mal rant, rubbing her back as she broke down.

“because life is unfair that way” Carlos sighed “Mal I know exactly what you're dealing with right now” Mal peeked out from her fingers, her eyes shining “I still have nightmares from living in my mother’s closet, getting trapped in the bear traps on the ground, or when she would burn me with her cigarette…even ones were she sends dogs at me to kill me…I still hear her voice in my head, telling me I’m worthless, that I’ll never be better than dog chow, my only use was being her servant” Carlos swallowed down the lump in his throat “but I know she's wrong, I’m not anything she says. I’m a tech genius, I've made several computers on the isle just from scraps, I've enhanced my 3D printer to be the best in Auradon, faster than any other and the quality is still top-notch, I've made a tiny little device that was able to make a hole in the barrier, I've gotten offers to work for Tony fucking Stark!” Mal gasped, reaching forward to grab Carlos' shoulders in excitement.

“holy shit what!? When? How? Why?!” Carlos smiled, prying off her grip.

“I knew you all were distracted by something else, especially you, so I didn’t want to make you stressed by my stuff either, it was two months ago. I didn’t take the offer because I want to finish school, but the offer still stands when I graduate in two years” Mal grinned, but it turned to a pout as Carlos gave her a look “Now back to the original topic, I’m not letting you deviate from it, you need to let it all out”

Mal stared at him for a moment before shrugging “I…feel like I already did…Auradon is stressful, my mother is the base of all my mental shit, and I’m not ready to be in a relationship with the dude I love because until I can love myself and learn not to rely on others value of me as my own value I can't be with him in a way that won't hurt him” Carlos slowly grinned “what?” “you said you love Ben~” he teased, laughing as Mal turned red and smacked him.

“I did not!!” she screeched, yelping as Carlos half tackled her and pulled her into an arm lock “Let me go you heathen!”

“you love Ben~ you love Ben~” Carlos sang, laughing as she tried to smack at his face “Come on, pixie! Let's get you back to the dorms, I think you need a nap”

“Don’t call me pixie!”

“How bout gremlin?”

“Carlos!!”

-

Chad carefully pulled the 3D printed copy of the king's crown from the printer and pressed a kiss to the emblem on the front. “Finally,~” He walked over to the mirror that was installed in Jay's standing dresser and carefully perched the crown on his head, smiling as his full cotillion outfit came to light.

He looked like a king~

He tilted the crown down a bit and laughed, posing in the mirror “oh what's that? Why no Audrey, I haven’t chosen my queen yet~” He purred to the fake Audrey in his mind. He turned and started to walk away before spinning back around to pose again “why no Audrey-”

Suddenly his phone rang, and he turned, raising his brow as he walked over to his phone “who could be calling me?”

Caller ID - Audrey <3

Chad let out a high-pitched scream of excitement, dropping his phone to the floor as he gripped his head “ahhAH! Audrey!!!”

“chad!” Carlos groaned, glaring as the other dived to the floor for his phone, and shushed him “Chad! This is my room chad!”

Chad shushed him again, making Carlos roll his eyes. Chad hit the answer button on his phone “Audrey?”

“Hey Chad um, I’m kind of stuck in Sherwood forest, my tire went flat. Could, could you come help me?”

“yeah of course!” Chad covered the mic and turned back to Carlos “she got a flat tire in Sherwood forest and she wants me to come fix it~” Carlos squinted a bit and looked at Chad with an odd look.

“that’s six hours away”

Chad looked at him as if what he said wasn’t a long road trip. “Really? Only six?” he turned back to his phone and put it back to his ear “I’m gonna be there faster than I thought”

“Thanks Chad, I was going to come to cotilli-“ he pulled the phone away and pressed a kiss to the screen, hanging up on Audrey and starting to walk out the door when Carlos stopped him.

“Ah-My printer my crown” Carlos took the crown off Chad's head, who chuckled and gestured back from the printer to the crown before shrugging it off.

“I’m coming Audrey!” he ran down the halls towards his car, leaving a bewildered Carlos in his dorm.

“wow,” Carlos snorted, shaking his head and walking into the room, tossing the crown on Jay's bed. Carlos flopped down on his bed, Dude hopping up next to him moments later “these last two days have been crazy huh?”

“You can say that again” Dude snorted, halfway crawling on Carlos' chest and laying his head down “Nap time?”

“Nap time” Carlos chuckled, pulling his pillow over his face to block out the afternoon sun and sighed.

-end of part 14-

yep, part 14, we’re almost to Cotillion guys! also yep, Doug does not accuse Evie of cheating on him even though he had no reason to do so in the movie and he shows concern over Evie and her friends safety when she tells him about the isle~ what?? no~ this isn't a dig at Doug's awful D2 writing!! how could you accuse me of such a thing~! (Doug had alot of potential but like Mal it got ruined in the second movie and he was pushed as a full on background character in the third) also MORE CARLOS CONTENT~ yes he is smart boi and deserves that recognition and yes, the avengers exist in this universe. hopefully that Mal talk didnt sound like a pity party. 

anyway PERMTAGLLIST

@queer-cosette​ @sephiralorange​

@lunanight2012​ @daughter-of-the-stars11​

@musicarose​ @random-thoughts-003​

@remembered-license​ @rintheemolion​

@thecaptainsgingersnap​ @descendantsobsessed​

@verboetoperee​ @imtryingthisout​

taglist

@thesailbells​ @beccad10x​

[nachotrash]

MORE INCORRECT QUOTES WITH MY MOOTS

ft: @catchmewiddershins @lilikags and @paradise-creator // no haikyuu boys this time

Pauline: No more making fun of me when I misuse dated cultural references, alright? Are we cowabunga on this? Wid, sighing: Fine. We're cowabunga.

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

Pauline: We're having a baby. Shiyu: Oh, congradu- Wid, slamming adoption papers onto teh table: It's you, sign here.

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

Pauline: Why are there little handprints all over the walls? Shiyu, whispering: Why are there little handprints all over the walls? Wid, whispering: Because I have little hands. Shiyu: Because they have little hands.

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

Wid: I was born for politics. I have great hair and I love lying.

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

Lili: Life keeps fucking me and I can't remember the safeword.

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

Wid: Pros and cons of dating me. Wid: Pros. You'll be the cute one. Wid: Cons. Holy shit, where do I begin-

(cons. you're the smart one😔)

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

Shiyu: Sure, you're verified on twitter, but are you verified in the eyes of god?

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

Pauline: Theater kids are just choir kids who joined forces with the band and strings kids.

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

Shiyu: Did you just call me a shrimp, you asshole?! I'm still growing, dammit!

(*lipbites in 166 cm*)

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

Wid: I don't dab. I stab.

(nOw WhEarE HAvE i SeEn ThIs BeFoRe)

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

Shiyu: I scare people a lot because I walk very softly and they don't hear me enter rooms. So when they turn around, I'm just kind of there and their fear fuels me.

(t-pose to assert dominance)

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

Shiyu, as a child, reading their school assignment out loud: I love my library because... Shiyu, mouthing words while writing: I love reading, fuck you.

(lmao baby nacho really be bold)

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

Shiyu: The ‘how the fucks’ and 'why are you so dumbs’ don’t matter. All that matters is that I have a new gun.

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

Lili: It's not ugly, just aesthetically challenged.

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

Pauline: The last time I went to an urgent care clinic, I checked off 'excessive crying' on the symptom list, and then the nurse got really confused and said that was meant for babies.

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

Pauline: All of your existences are confusing. The Squad: How so? Pauline: Your presence is annoying, but the thought of anything bad happening to any of you upsets me.

(we are the squad now)

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

Lili: Blackmail is such an ugly word. I prefer extortion. The X makes it sound cool.

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

Wid: Real life should have a fucking search function, or something. Wid: I need my socks.

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

Pauline: New year, same me. Because I'm perfect.

(yes yes you are how dare you)

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

Shiyu: Yeah I'm LGBT. Shiyu: cuLt leader. Shiyu: God hates me personally. Shiyu: cowBoy hat. Shiyu: *sniffles* Trying my best.

(my asexual ass be like;)

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

Wid: *plays shreksophone* Wid: Woo. Wid: Time to listen to this on loop for all eternity. Shiyu: ...Genius coping mechanism my friend

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

Shiyu: Treat spiders the way you want to be treated. Pauline: Killed without hesitation.

----------

Pauline: The next time I open up to someone, it'll be my autopsy.

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

Pauline: Sometimes, I don’t realize an event was traumatic until I tell it as a funny story and notice everyone is staring at me weird.

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

Pauline: I hate Lili. Shiyu: "Hate' is a strong word. Pauline: I have strong opinions.

(oh no)

----------

Wid: How does that even work? Shiyu, mocking them: hOw dO yOu UsE a cOmPUteR aNd KnOw wHaTS GoiNg oN iT DoEsNt mAke SeNSe?! Wid: Your face doesnt make sense.

(...fair enough)

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

Pauline: Get in, loser, we’re committing vehicular manslaughter!

-----------

Pauline: My stomach growled super loud in French. Pauline: I would like to clarify, my stomach did not speak in French. It growled during French class. Shiyu: Bonjour. Lili: Le growl. Wid: Hon hon hon, feed me a baguette.

(reminds me of the 'ill speak french between your legs' tumblr legend and im wheezing)

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

Shiyu: *tapping fingers on table* Lili: *taps fingers back furiously* Wid: …What’s going on? Pauline: Morse code. They’re talking. Shiyu: -.-- ..- .-. / - …. . / -.-. ..- - . … - Lili: *slams hands on table* YOU TAKE THAT BACK!

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

Shiyu: For self defense reasons, I'm going to pretend to be a burglar and you guys have to act wisely. Wid, Lili, & Pauline: Okay. Shiyu: If you don't want to die, give me all your money. Wid: Bold of you to assume I have money. Lili: Bold of you to assume I don't want to die. Pauline: Bold of you to assume I can die.

(pauline is a goddess. goddesses cant die)

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

Lili: If I punch myself and it hurts, am I weak or strong? Wid: Strong. Shiyu: Weak. Pauline: An idiot, is what your are.

(as long as you dont flinch or scream youre strong. unless you get punched in the gut by someone like ushijima ofc)

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

Shiyu: Those darn tall old people. Wid: Darm em' indeed. Pauline: Don't worry, they'll be gone soon enough. Lili: *sharpening knife* Yes. Dead. The Squad: Lili: Hahaha. Lili: ...Is this self-destructive behaviour?

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

Wid: Oh god, they texted you ‘hi.’’ punctuation only means one thing, Pauline. They're mad at you. Pauline: No, it's Shiyu. They're just being gramatically correct! *meanwhile* Shiyu: And then I used a period so they'd know that I'm mad at them. Lili: A period doesn't say 'I'm mad', it says 'you're dead to me'. Shiyu: I stand by my choice.

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

Wid: What do we think of Shiyu? *pause* Lili: *sighs* Nice pal. Pauline: I think they're gay.

=------------

Wid: Where is Shiyu? Pauline: I'll do you one better, who is Shiyu?? Lili: Here's a better question, why is Shiyu?

(i dont know man. ive been trying to figure it out for the last few years)

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

Wid: On the count of three, what’s your favorite cake? Wid & Lili: One, two, three- Wid & Lili: Chocolate cake, peanutbutter frosting, and chocolate chunks! Shiyu: Our turn, Pauline! One, two, three- Shiyu: Vanilla! Pauline: I’ve never had cake before. What is cake?

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

Pauline: I am darkness. I am an power. I am your worst nightmare. I could kill a man in more ways than you can imagine. I am the night. I am fury, I am a weapon, I am- Wid: A doll. Shiyu: A cinnamon roll. Lili: A sweetheart. Pauline: Pauline: ...stop it.

(cant deny the truth bby)

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

Wid, Pauline & Shiyu: *screaming* Lili: *runs into the room* What's wrong, Shiyu?! Wid: Wait, why are you asking Shiyu that when Pauline and I are also here? Lili: Because Shiyu wouldn't scream unless it's an emergency. You two scream whenever you have the chance.

(i mean... its true )

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

Pauline: What’s wrong? You look 10 seconds away from ripping someone’s throat out. Wid: Fucking Shiyu and Lili were trying to invoke one of the minor gods again last night. I didn't get an ounce of sleep, thanks to their bloody chanting.

(manifests dvalin cause i wanna ride on their back and fall off)

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

Lili: Wake me up- Wid: Before you go go Shiyu: When September ends Pauline: WAKE ME UP INSIDE

(cant wake up- WAKE ME UP INSIDE)

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

Shiyu, watching Pauline & Lili panic : What's going on? Wid: Pauline is having a midlife crisis and Lili is just having a crisis.

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

Lili: *Gasp* Pauline: wHAT?? Lili: What if soy milk is just milk introducing itself in Spanish? Pauline: *inhales* Wid, in another room with Shiyu: Why can I hear screeching?

(shiyu: same shit different day)

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

Shiyu: Christmas is cancelled. Wid: You can't cancel a holiday. Shiyu: Keep it up, Wid, and you'll lose New Year's too. Wid: What does that mean? Shiyu: Lili, take New Year's away from Wid.

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

Pauline: So, are they your friend or... Lili: They’re like Wid, but if Wid was ordered to be around you. Pauline: Oh, so Shiyu. Lili: Precisely!

(if its about how annoyed i always look then you ahve a point)

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

Wid: You’re just being paranoid. Again. Pauline: When have I been paranoid? Wid: Um, when you first met Lili you thought they were an undercover cop…? Pauline: No one has a wart that big, I thought it was a surveillance camera! Wid: And last year you were sure Shiyu was a mermaid! Pauline: They hate wearing shirts! COINCIDENCE?! *Later, when Pauline’s theory is proven wrong* Wid: Do you have anything to say for yourself? Pauline: I still think Shiyu is a mermaid.

(id gladly be one)

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

*Wid drunkenly wanders around the manor and Lili is drunkenly giggling* Shiyu, completely sober: *sighs* Well, looks like it's just me and you against the wold, Pauline. Pauline, going to their room: Nope, just you. *shuts door*

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

Wid: We need to distract these guys. Lili: Leave it to me. Lili: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss. Pauline & Shiyu: *immediately begin arguing*

(*pulls out dictionary*)

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

Police: You’re under arrest for trying to carry three people on a single motorcycle. Shiyu, with Wid and Lili behind them: Wait, what do you mean THREE?! Police: Yes…three. Shiyu: Oh, my God— What the fuck!? Police: Wha- Shiyu: Pauline FUCKING FELL OFF!

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

Wid: What is love? Pauline: An emotional minefield. Shiyu: A neurochemical reaction. Lili: Baby don't hurt me.

(BECAUSE FUCK EMOTIONS)

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

Pauline: I currently have 7 empty notebooks and I have no idea what to put in them. Any suggestions? Wid: Put spaghetti in it. Pauline: I am currently taking suggestions from everyone but you. Lili: Put spaghetti in it. Pauline: I am currently taking suggestions from everyone but you two. Shiyu: Put spaghetti in it. Pauline: I am no longer taking suggestions.

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

Shiyu, pointing to the wall: What color is this? Pauline: Gray. Lili: Grey. Shiyu, turning to Wid: Now tell them what color you think it is. Wid: Dark white.

[maknaesdancersrappers]

on the sixth day of kinkmas, my lover did to me:

[ g a g s ]

>>DOYOUNG

>>warning/s: blindfold, light bondage, quick fellatio, cheating, dirty talking, vulgar language, uhh implied creampie??? and breeding kink bc idk its growing on me im probably having existential crisis

a/n: rj gets carried away pt 2 ft doyoung

-

Kim Doyoung was a powerful man; the CEO of his own company at the age of 26, had multi-million franchises across the globe. He had everything; a mansion on an acre land he owned, vacation houses in each province of the country, the latest models of sportscars parked in his garage, a beautiful wife of 5 years—you would include “loving,” but that was only used for publicity.

When Doyoung had married his wife, he had no say in the matter. It was pre-arranged by their families, a contract made by their grandfathers. He didn’t care at first, it’s not like he was in a former relationship or even wanted one. For the first few months after their wedding, they did try to work things out; actually try to fall in love with one another, but in the end, as he had come to find out, she was only in it for the sake of making her family happy.

They had sex, plenty of it. All vanilla and boring—Doyoung wanted more, but she wouldn’t even let him hold her wrists down for a few goddamn seconds. The sex stopped when he found out about her lover: a high school sweetheart she was forced to leave because she had to marry him. And since that day, they’ve established that their relationship was purely just a piece of paper, that their status of husband and wife is nothing but a title to the public and their families.

You only came to the picture when Doyoung had made a surprise visit to one of his hotels in Busan. He parked his matte black Audi s8 beside a white Jeep Wrangler.

He steps out of his car to stretch his limbs and hears squeaking from behind him. As he turns, he sees you through the rolled down window of the Jeep; panting and sweaty, hair disheveled.

It doesn’t take long for him to realize you were riding someone—and from the look of disdain and annoyance on your face, it wasn’t going to knock your socks off. You notice him and he doesn’t move a muscle, unashamed of being caught watching you. You didn’t even care that he had seen you because the man beneath you was coming—quite loudly and finished with a smile on his face and a scowl on yours.

When you look back up to the man that had been watching you, he was gone. You almost felt embarrassed, only because he had to watch such a pathetic excuse for sex.

“You didn’t have to walk me to the elevator.” You quipped, clicking your heels against the polished floors.

“If I didn’t have to go to this emergency meeting, I’d walk you all the way up to your room.”

You spare him a sarcastic smile, “If it really was an emergency, you would have just dropped me off.” You turn the corner to where the elevators were and found the man from earlier. He has his hands in his pockets and gaze to the floor.

“Can I see you later tonight?”

“Nope.” You snapped, “Beauty rest for the wedding.”

The elevator doors open after a ‘ding’ and you briskly walk inside after the man.

“How about after—”

“I’m driving back to Seoul next morning. I’d rather not.” You swipe your keycard on the sensor and press your floor number.

The man you were with frowns, “Oh, well, then I guess I’ll see you at the wedding.”

You forced a smile at him before the elevator doors close and once they do, you groan, rolling your eyes until they land to the male who had witnessed everything. “Sorry you just had to watch the worst free live porn ever.”

He smirks, shrugging “I can’t say I’ve seen worse. I was wondering why a Seoul city girl like you would be with a Busan boy like him, he must be your partner for this wedding you’ve mentioned.”

“Oh, you know how it goes, single bridesmaids and groomsmen, yada yada, getting lucky and all that—well, he did. I did not, I definitely did not.” You’re reminded of the ache between your legs that you had to deal with back in your suite.

The elevator dings again and it opens to the lobby; no one gets in and you raise a brow at the man. “Aren’t you gonna get off?”

He looks at you, contemplatively.

The doors close and the elevator starts making its way up to bring you to your floor.

“I work for this hotel. I think it’s only right I escort a customer to their floor, especially after such a traumatic encounter that happened within the building, and make sure you have everything you need.”

“To say you work for this hotel is an understatement, Mr. Kim.” You laugh, finally recognizing his face under proper lighting.

“So you know who I am.”

“That handsome face of yours has been on the news a few times, so yes, I do know you.” You hum, warily eyeing him, “Your wife and I went to the same high school. She’s my junior.”

Doyoung scoffs, “Then you must know her lover, they were high school sweethearts.”

You look up at him, wide-eyed. “I-I do… I’m sorry.”

“My wife and I have come to terms that we’re only binded by a marriage contract. We’re just waiting for the right time to file for divorce. There’s no need to appologize.” The elevator doors open and he places a finger against the button to keep it that way, politely smiling at you. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay, Miss…”

You say your name and begin to step out of the lift.

He repeats your name with a slight purr. “If there’s anything else you need, let me know.”

Everything began there; and six months later you don’t regret the encounter. You can still remember how you came undone once from his fingers, another with his mouth, and three consecutive orgasms with his cock. Even though you were completely spent, sensitive and overstimulated, you wanted more.

Doyoung gave you more and more every time you meet. You didn’t need an exchange of words to know what your bodies wanted; he wants complete control while you wanted to be used.

“I don’t understand how the men before me let you go to waste. They’re idiots.” He grumbles, taking off his wristwatch.

You chuckled, the little vibrations from your throat stimulating his cock as you sucked it. He had called you over to his house in Anyang when he found out you had a meeting nearby; that had been cancelled due clashing schedules so here you were, on your knees before him.

“They didn’t let me go. I let them go. They’re idiots for not knowing how to pleasure me even though it’s the simple concept of ‘give and take,’ hmph.” You quietly say after pulling away from his shaft, pumping it with both your hands. “What about your wife? Didn’t she find pleasure in this?”

“I guess it’s different if you’re in love with someone else.” Doyoung tosses the accessory aside as if it didn’t cost a hundred thousand dollars and starts working on untying his tie. “Also, can you stop calling her my wife?”

“She still is, though, until you file for divorce and until then, I’m still technically your mistress.” You push his cock closer to his stomach and lean forward to kiss his balls. “I thought you two had the papers already?”

“Our parents want a grandchild—and while both our grandfathers are still alive, they’re more than eager to hold their great grandchildren before they die.” He groans and you don’t know if it’s because of his dilemma or your mouth playfully nipping at his testes. “And of course they had to mention that when we were about to announce our divorce.”

You kiss his cock one more time before rising to your feet, “I’d offer you help, but I don’t know how aside from letting you use my body as a stress reliever.”

“It’s enough, trust me.” He smiles, tipping your chin with his finger and kissing your forehead, “Open your mouth.”

You look at him incredulously at his request, hesitantly parting your lips.

He jams his rolled up necktie in your mouth, holding you steady by your nape. The sweet smile on his face was now replaced with the expression of what you can only describe as the face of a predator, which meant you were his prey. “Enough talking. Do what you do best, sweetheart, and be a good slut for me.”

He pushes you over the bed and pulls your tight shirt up your body, leaving it around your eyes and kept your arms by your head. You feel him palm your breasts for a moment before the strapless bra you wore came off.

There was a soft sigh before you felt his mouth closing on your left nipple while fingers tweaked the other. You arch yourself towards him when it ended so quickly, his mouth leaving your skin with a pop before you feel him working to get your pants off.

After your slacks came off with your panties, you lay there; waiting with a necktie in your mouth and a shirt above your eyes. You knew what he was doing. He was standing there by the bed, shedding the remainder of his clothing and watching you; daring you to do something he wouldn’t like so he could punish you for it. But tonight you wanted to be rewarded.

He probably hoped you’d grow impatient and shrug your shirt completely off, but instead he watched you spread your legs apart and invited him to stare at your pussy, pink and sopping with anticipation.

You feel a lone finger quickly trail from your entrance to your clit, eliciting a gasp muffled by your gag and your hips lifting upwards to chase the contact.

“If I had you like this everyday, with that tight pussy of yours just waiting to be pounded by my cock, I’d be a father in no time.” He scoffs and you hear an appreciative hum that tells you he brought his finger to his lips.

The mattress by your feet dips down and you feel his hands run along your inner thighs, teasing you as he avoids contact where you wanted it the most.

You whine through your gag but he seems to ignore it, moving your legs so they would be draped over his thighs.

“I’ve always been one to use protection, but I remember the first time we met. You were just begging to be fucked by me, crying about not caring if I had a condom on or not.” His weight shifts on the bed again and then you feel the tip of his member pushing into you. You’re moaning through his necktie, jaw already aching at being jammed open for so long. “I came twice in you that day and you know what, sweetheart?”

He starts to thrust all of a sudden, pounding into you so quickly that your walls struggle to adjust to his girth and are rubbed raw. You feel his fingers digging into your hipbone with a bruising grip as he surges himself into you repeatedly. “It. felt. so. fucking. good.”

You cry as loud as you can through your gag, wanting to move your own hips to meet his thrusts.

“I’ve never thought about kids, [Y/N]. Have you?” He hisses, switching the angle of how his cock enters you and causing you to moan again. With your lack of response, he shakes your hips against him, “Answer me.”

You vehemently shake your head, tempted to take your shirt off so you could look at him, but you kept them overhead and held your forearms. He resumes his actions, letting go of your hips to fondle your chest.

“God, I love your pussy, sweetheart. Always so tight, no matter how much I fuck you. So fucking delicious—always so wet when I see it, always eager to take my cock. Your pussy is just perfect for my cock, don’t you agree, sweetheart?”

You’re breathing heavily through your nose now, almost choking on your saliva when you tried to breathe through your mouth. You shake your head.

“No?”

You mumbled back something, but obviously it was obstructed by the makeshift gag. You do your best to swallow the saliva that’s accumulated in your mouth despite the necktie and repeat yourself. “Yours.”

“Mine?” Doyoung repeats, and in your head you can see the confused expression he tends to make, “Are you trying to say this pussy is mine, sweetheart?”

You nod, writhing under his hold and finally able to meet his thrusts with your own fervent movements.

“Really? This pussy is mine, sweetheart?”

You nod once more and he stills, length halfway inside of you. His hands are no longer on your boobs, but resting back on your hips. Before you can complain about his inactivity, he drives himself back into you with a force strong enough to send your body further up the bed. It’s creaking this time with the headboard hitting the wall and creating the softest thud.

Doyoung brings his thumb over your clit, rubbing furious circles upon it, relentlessly, until you’re crying out loud and struggling.

Unable to keep still, you try to remove your shirt but he catches you, pushing your arms back down above your head.

“If this pussy is mine, sweetheart, I would want nothing more than fill it up with my cum. Is that okay with you?”

You shake your head in agreement.

He groans, continuously thrusting. “And if I get you pregnant, sweetheart? What will you do, huh? Will you keep it?”

You don’t know how but you were able to scream out a discernible and resounding “Yes!”

Without ceasing his movements, he tears your shirt off from your face and limbs, and your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness. When you finally focus on him; with his eyes lustfully glaring down at you, jaw strained, and his entire body tense as he brings you closer to your climax, he asks through gritted teeth, “Do you want me to get you pregnant, [Y/N]?”

He fishes his necktie out of your mouth, disposing the damp thing on the floor, and cluthes your jaw to pull you in for a kiss.

You break off the kiss, placing your hands on his hot skin, “I want you to fuck me until I do.”

Doyoung growls, rolling your bodies until you were on top. “Then go get it for yourself, sweetheart. Chase that chance to have my children.”

Like a maniac, you ride him; gyrating your hips, clenching around him. The beautiful sound of his moans is music to your ears and merely fuels you to move faster. You reach your climax first, throwing your head backwards and jerking erratically above him; which triggers his own, ejaculating deep within you.

Your lower abdomen feels hot as you calm down from your high, still gently moving your hips despite being sensitive to ride his orgasm out, each sporadic squirt of his seed making you flinch.

With his cock still seated comfortably inside of you, you feel yourself fall backwards, making him sit up and guide you gently down the bed and lay between his legs.

“Aren’t you on birth control?” He asks, voice completely raspy and out of breath.

“No.” You confessed, “They make my boobs too sensitive. I just take ‘morning after’ pills after we fuck.”

“Do you plan to take them tomorrow?”

“Do you really want kids?”

He shrugs and you snort, “Doyoung, will you even take responsibility if I get pregnant?”

“Of course I will! What do you take me for?” He exclaims, obviously offended. He smooths his hands over your thighs, “I just don’t have experiences with kids to know how I’ll fare with them. But I do know I’d like an heir to my company.”

You gesture for him to help you sit up, both of you wincing when he does as your bodies are still connected. “I’ll take the pill, only because it feels wrong to try and make a baby when your parents want you to have one with your wife.”

“Again, can you stop calling her that? She doesn’t even call me her husband anymore. Also, I never said they wanted me to have a kid with her. Technically, they never specified who the mother of their grandkids can be—they’re only assuming her because they don’t know what’s really going on between us.”

“So no pill?”

“It’s up to you, really.” He chuckles, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

“Is that why you’re still hard?” You lick your lips at how his dick is throbbing inside of you.

“I’m telling you,” Doyoung sniggers into your ear, “There’s just something about your pussy that makes me want to fill it up.”

[mmjimin]

♡　 they call me nikki, i like to yeehaw and plot romangst. and this here is kwak jimin. as usual i much prefer discord. if u like tumblr im or don’t have a discord that’s okei doki too tho, just message me here. 

feel free to click here for stats, and click here for the biography page and this time i have no connections yet 🤡, not that the other ones were good anyway but.... onto the summary below !!

KWAK JIMIN, TWENTY NINE, currently an obliviator with the ministry of magic, recently promoted up from the maeobsa liaison position. she graduated yosul, house BAEK HO. recently jilted crazy lady who’s a little too good at spell slinging to be this angry and sad. please don’t test her... or do, it’s your life.

there’s this deluge of melancholy about her that pours off of her like rain. reads like a woman with a million thoughts, who’s lived a hundred lives and most of them fucked her over...she’s the emo bich of the family 😔

recently dumped by her boyfriend of like six years who she had planned to marry

so frankly, fuck romance, who needs it....

but also, she’s definitely the type to be someones mistress or have some weird illicit affair right now because, six years of being committed to a serious asshole who dumped her in the end and she wants to make waves, serious mistakes territory.

powerful witch, infamous family, but she’s lacking in a lot of areas and wants to branch out lately. she’s going through midlife crisis tbh

where she wasn’t around before, since her split from the fuckface her ex, she often shows up at pureblood events, rich and elite galas, she does charity work in her time off, and if her sisters have things with yosul open to the public she will attend those.

y’see the fuckface her ex told her she was a frigid bitch who didn’t care abt anyone but herself so now she’s out to prove him wrong. i’d say she’s somewhat pulling it off. it’s a work in progress!

since i didn’t do an actual connections page yet, i’ll put some plot bunnies here to avoid doing nothing. just basic ideas bc she might seem difficult to interact w but i think we can figure something out. and if not, i have @mmseonchan who’s more accessible so, no worries! anyway yea, onto the things.

mentor/mentee. interested in the ministry of magic? in obliviation? or maybe you want the boringest job in the world aka muggle liaison. she will gladly help you.

want help with occulmency? she’s certifiably good and you can find her in a pamphlet in the ministry of magic over it. it’s listed right under her employee picture, so you can pay her to help train your occlumency!

if you know the kwaks that’s a good start for plotting!

meet cutes, accidental interactions, strangers in circumstances, so on and so forth

she obliviated your family or someone you kno RIP. note, even maybe..oblivated YOUR muse??? they might not remember this (unless some weird thing happens) but she does and we can plot something cool with it ok

she works with your parents (for those of you who have rich parents or parents who are aurors, or ministry lackies) and u met her at a weird awkward family friends party???

mistakes were made between u two...maybe, one night stand? if you’re under 23 you ignore this

you went to school with her. she’s only 29 so, this would mean your muse needs to be 23+, or to have a gap year that had them in school early

u did your research and you found her name somehow and want to literally hire her to obliviate someone for you which is certainly against the rules but ur rly trying to sell yourself. she’s potentially listening..

that’s all for now. and as usual here’s her intro about from her application for more context on her and how she reads.

like a lucid dream, she stands at the door, her fingernails dug into the ironed fabric of her slacks staring into the dense open of her apartment. the cardboard boxes that brimmed full of his things jeered at her. how didn’t she know ? her expression a broken assemblage of a mask, meant to be nonpartisan, but it reads like horrifying moment before a person completely snaps. her wand feels heavy. she can hear him, rummaging around inside the bedroom. it used to be their bedroom. her wand is out of her pocket before she realizes it. she thinks of her mothers grace and supreme distance from the situation with their father, with the entirety of the wizarding world laughing at her and her children. jimin wonders if one needs to be able to open a third eye, or have their finger to the pulse of reality in order to brush off betrayal like this. unlucky for her ex boyfriend, she’s the daughter of a true seer. any kind of otherworldly awareness had passed her over. she was just a woman, nothing special about her. there’s an unsettling calm in the room as she raises her wand, the tip engulfed in manifested magic and then she unleashes it on the unsuspecting room without a second thought. a volcanic eruption of shredded cardboard, clothes, knickknacks, whatever the hell had been in the box.

the sound draws him and he spews from her bedroom with an alarm that she had never seen on the features of her usually composed partner. good. she relishes it. her expression compressing into a turbulent hostility. she destroys another box and it’s liberating. it seems he doesn’t know whether to draw his wand, scream or run. she spares him the trouble. “be out when i get back.” she calmly states in a way counter intuitive to her expression or the chaotic fog of destroyed belongings that films the area. and she flicks her wrist to apparate herself away. reappears in the middle of the kwak home, in the living room in front of her siblings with slivers of cardboard and plastics and fabrics in her hair and a melancholic hysteria on her features.

“hey.” she speaks, looks them over and the shake of her shoulders quiets, wand lowers slowly. “i’m home.” she means for now, but it feels appropriately dramatic.

[living-lucid-dream]

Happy 4/13!

It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything Homestuck-related. What better day to change that than today? What I’m trying to say is: here, have some random snippets from a maybe-sequel to Straw Soldiers.

> Vriska: Distress call

arachnidsGrip [AG] began trolling gallowsCalibrator [GC]

AG: Terezi!!!!!!!! AG: Thank fuck you are online 8ecause I am having a serious crisis. AG: I’m talking all hands on deck, all points 8ulletin sort of 8ullshit. AG: Terezi? AG: Come on, will you SAY SOMETHING already? AG: This is an emergency and you are my only chance at keeping everything from going to complete shit. AG: I swear to god I am not exagger8ing when I say that I am fucking dying here!!!!!!!! GC: HUH GC: TH4TS STR4NG3 GC: MY NOS3 DO3S NOT D3T3CT 3V3N TH3 F41NT3ST WH1FF OF D3C4Y1NG FL3SH GC: 1T 1S P1CK1NG UP ON3 H3FTY P1L3 OF M3LODR4M4 THOUGH >:/ AG: OK, OK. So may8e I’m not dying right this second—8ut I will 8e if you don’t do something for me, and I mean pronto. GC: UH-HUH GC: 4ND WH4T 3X4CTLY 1S TH1S 4LL3G3DLY L1F3 S4V1NG M4N3UV3R YOU 3XP3CT M3 TO DO? AG: First, I need you to answer something for me. GC: OK, SHOOT AG: How long have we known each other, exactly? GC: 1 DUNNO GC: F1V3, S1X SW33PS? GC: WHY? AG: Five or six sweeps. Practically our whole lives! AG: I mean, 8y now we’re pretty much o8lig8ed to help each other out in times of dire need and you’ve got to know that I wouldn’t ask for help with anything unless I was really, truly desper8. GC: UGH, TH3 M3LODR4M4 GC: 1T BURNS! AG: Hey, I am 8eing totally serious! AG: Geeeeeeeez, Pyrope. I come here hoping to get a little help from my lifelong 8osom 8uddy and all you can do is give me a 8unch of salty attitude. AG: If that’s the way you’re going to 8e then may8e I won’t 8other to ask you for anything after all. GC: JUST T3LL M3 WH4T YOU W4NT AG: Now that’s the spirit! AG: All right. So the thing I’m going to ask you to do may not sound like much, 8ut 8elieve me it is a very 8ig deal. AG: I need you to talk some sense into Peixes for me. GC: >:? GC: 4BOUT WH4T? AG: Somehow she got it into her pan that it would 8e a good idea to make me go all the fuck 8ack to Alternia and pick up Tav8utt and wonder clown. AG: I’ve tried reasoning with her 8ut she is 8eing a stu88orn 8rat and pulling rank on me. GC: SORRY TO S4Y 1T BUT 1 F41L TO S33 HOW 4NY OF TH4T QU4L1F13S 4S L1F3 4ND D34TH AG: Trust me, it is. GC: HOW SO? AG: 8ecause I will die of 8oredom! AG: Can you even imagine me, stuck on a ship for god knows how long with no8ody 8ut Toreasnore and Gamzee for company? AG: 8oriiiiiiiing! AG: I mean, the two of them don’t have a pair of 8rain cells 8etween them! GC: 1 4M SUR3 YOU W1LL SURV1V3 AG: What? So you’re not going to do anything at all to help me???????? AG: I’ve seen you do some pretty ruthless shit, 8ut releg8ing your good friend to dork squad shuttle service? AG: That’s cold ::::( GC: 1 4M SUR3 1T WONT B3 TH4T B4D GC: B3S1D3S 1 TH1NK 1T W1LL B3 GOOD FOR YOU GC: GR34T FOR BU1LD1NG CH4R4CT3R 4ND 4LL TH4T J4ZZ AG: “8uilding character” my ass. You just want to see me suffer. GC: ME? N3V3R >;] GC: H4V3 4 S4F3 TR1P GC: OH, 4ND DON’T TORM3NT T4VROS TOO MUCH AG: You know I will ::::p

arachnidsGrip [AG] ceased trolling gallowsCalibrator [GC]

  > Future Vriska: Distress call

arachnidsGrip [AG] opened memo EMERGENCY READ NOW!!!!!!!!

arachnidsGrip [AG] invited apocalypseArisen [AA] to memo arachnidsGrip [AG] invited twinArmageddons [TA] to memo arachnidsGrip [AG] invited carcinoGeneticist [CG] to memo arachnidsGrip [AG] invited arsenicCatnip [AC] to memo arachnidsGrip [AG] invited grimAuxiliatrix [GA] to memo arachnidsGrip [AG] invited gallowsCalibrator [GC] to memo arachnidsGrip [AG] invited centaursTesticle [CT] to memo arachnidsGrip [AG] invited caligulasAquarium [CA] to memo arachnidsGrip [AG] invited cuttlefishCuller [CC] to memo

AG: Come on, you useless 8unch of laya8outs! Get your asses in here! AG: Aaauuuuuuuugh! Where is every8ody???????? AG: Is this not getting through to any of you? AG: Fuck it, I can’t tell so I’m doing this regardless. AG: My ship has 8een attacked. AG: There have 8een losses and no, I am not detailing what those losses are right here 8ecause this is humili8ing enough as it is. AG: The long and short of it is: I’m stranded and I have no idea where the hell I am exactly 8ut I do know that I am drifting somewhere 8etween Earth and Alternia. AG: I am pretty sure I can safely classify the situ8ion as “in dire need of a relief shuttle right fucking now.” AG: Hello? AG: Is any8ody getting this???????? AG: Come on, some8ody ANSW8R ME, ALR8DY! AG: G8DDAMN 8T!!!!!!!!

arachnidsGrip [AG] left memo

  > John: Pester Dave

ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

EB: dave! EB: you there, buddy? TG: yo EB: geez, you’ve been mia for like four days now. Where the heck have you been? TG: shit dude TG: ive been laying lower than a teenage mutant ninja turtle chilling in the new york sewer TG: slinking around like the stealth phantom lovechild of batman and solid snake EB: oh. so the paparazzi are after you too, huh? TG: yeah EB: that sucks. TG: eh TG: for a while i was thinking about mooning them just to see how hard they pissed themselves trying to go all national geographic on my ass TG: then i realized that there was like an eighty billion percent certainty that my ass would just end up getting trotted out on fucking tmz or some shit TG: now national enquirer TG: i would be down with seeing my ass on the front page of such a fine publication TG: but tmz TG: no way TG: daytime tv is not ready for the strider ass TG: so me and aradia gave them the slip and they fell for it harder than bambi on ice TG: havent seen one of those fuckers in almost a week now EB: lucky! they’re all over me and karkat. EB: seriously, it’s like a freaking lightning storm every time i open the front door! EB: it was kind of funny at first but now it’s just…ugh. EB: hey, wait a sec! EB: you said you were with aradia? what are you guys doing? TG: we are going full-on magical mystery tour to find all the weird ass dead things the good old usa has to offer TG: we already hit up the mutter museum TG: it was the shit TG: never saw so many dead things in jars all in one place TG: made my collection look like some messy amateur shit TG: like their stuff is triple black diamond pucker up and kiss your ass goodbye caliber and my stuff barely even qualifies as a bunny slope for toddlers TG: oh and aradia and i pooled our cash and adopted a skull because who doesnt want to say that they are the proud daddy of a newborn 200 hundred year-old skull EB: jesus, sometimes i forget how weird you guys are. TG: hey the strider cool cocktail might not go with everything but at least its never boring TG: anyways im pretty sure we are going to be creeping around your neck of the woods in a couple of weeks TG: we should hang if you and karkat are going to be around EB: cool! EB: we’ll be here. EB: unless karkat’s got one of his pt sessions. EB: but then we’ll be back in like two hours, so yes! we’ll be here. TG: speaking of vantas TG: how is shouty mcqueen doing these days TG: that guys been more elusive than a shiny pokemon since you guys got home EB: he’s fine. EB: he just has a hard time with typing. and tying his shoes. and…lots of things, actually. TG: shit TG: i thought they said his hands were fixed EB: depends on the they you’re talking to, i guess. EB: terezi brought him a new phone, though. EB: it has voice-to-text for english and alternian. EB: jade and sollux made it for him, or at least i think that’s what terezi said when she gave it to him. EB: my alternian still sucks so i’m not sure. EB: anyways we’re about to have breakfast now so i should probably go. TG: ok TG: later ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

 > Future John: Pester Dave

ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

EB: dave! EB: are you there, buddy? EB: dave, come on. EB: this isn’t funny. EB: you’re really freaking me out here. EB: dave, please. EB: you need to answer me now! EB: jesus christ.

ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

> Future Karkat: Contact loving matesprit

carcinoGenticist [CG] began trolling gallowsCalibrator [CG]

CG: OK, YOU’VE HAD YOUR FUN. CG: NOW WIPE THAT SHIT-EATING GRIN OFF YOUR FACE AND STOP THIS BULLFUCKERY RIGHT NOW. CG: I KNOW THIS DISTANCE MATESPRITSHIP THING SUCKS HARDER THAN THE MOTHER GRUB’S SLURRY ACCEPTING ORIFICE. CG: BUT IF THIS ISN’T WORKING FOR YOU THEN YOU NEED TO TELL ME INSTEAD OF, YOU KNOW, IGNORING ME FOR TWO WEEKS. CG: JESUS FUCK, TEREZI. CG: I’D EXPECT THAT SORT OF SHIT-RINSING PISSBABY WAY OF HANDLING THINGS FROM PAST ME BECAUSE PAST ME IS A PAIL-SWILLING FUCKWIT WITH THE FANTASTIC ABILITY TO MAGICALLY LOSE HIS GLOBES WHEN SHIT GETS REAL. CG: BUT NOT FROM YOU. CG: I DON’T EVEN KNOW IF YOU OR SOLLUX ARE ALIVE BECAUSE GUESS WHAT? CG: NEITHER ONE OF YOU HAVE DEIGNED TO SEND ME SO MUCH AS A “HI, KARKAT JUST POPPING A SQUAT TO SHIT OUT THIS TURD OF A MESSAGE SO YOU CAN STOP WORRYING THAT WE BOTH DID SOMETHING PAN-NUMBINGLY STUPID LIKE DROWN IN THE LOAD GAPER; TALK TO YOU LATER YOU FART-BRAINED IGNORAMUS.” CG: THERE. CG: SEE? CG: WAS THAT SO HARD? CG: HELPFUL HINT: EVEN THE FART-BRAINED IGNORAMUS WITHOUT FUNCTIONING OPPOSABLE THUMBS MANAGED IT IN A SPHINCTER-RANKLING 60 SECONDS. CG: I GET THAT YOU AND SOLLUX ARE BUSY ON FEFERI’S FREE THE HELMSMEN CRUSADE AND YEAH, IT’S KIND OF A BIG FUCKING DEAL. CG: AND I GET THAT COMPLAINING ABOUT IT MAKES ME LOOK LIKE A SELFISH, BULGE-FLAPPING ASSHOLE. CG: BUT BEING THE PARANOID FUCKTARD WHO SEES SUPER EXCITING TORTURE FUNTIMES WITH CONDESCE AND FRIENDS ON INFINITE REPEAT EVERY FUCKING TIME I CLOSE MY EYES, I’M STARTING TO GET THIS NUB-TICKLING IDEA THAT SOMETHING MIGHT BE WRONG. CG: I KNOW IT’S STUPID AND I’M PROBABLY STOMPING INTO PALE TERRITORY WITH A PAIR OF STEEL TOE COMBAT BOOTS WITH “FUCK YOU CAPTOR” EMBLAZONED ON THE TREADS BY SAYING IT, BUT THERE IT IS. CG: THE STINKING SHIT PELLET OF TRUTH HAS DROPPED AND IT CANNOT RETURN TO THE WASTE CHUTE FROM WHENCE IT WAS PINCHED. CG: TEREZI, PLEASE. CG: JUST TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON.

CarcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling gallowsCalibrator [GC]

 > to be continued...(?)

[bisymmetra]

i. title: détente

ii. fandom: overwatch

iii. characters/ships: jack morrison, ; gen, background ships, might be reaper76 if i make this a thing but rn it’s shipless

iv. warnings: uh, discussion of ptsd/panic attacks/nightmares, but like vaguely? like nothing triggery really but if youre sensitive, brief mention of alcohol, more specific champagne and the pop of it setting off a panic attack

v. tags: dogs, im using forty nine for jack’s age bc the timeline’s all over and i put 45 - 55 in a rng and got forty nine, angela ziegler has #connections, this is five pages and just short of 2k words wtf, tenatively, bonnie the dog, therapy dog, this is jack centered tbh but if i write more hana’s getting a cat, idk if i truly like this

vi. summary: “Uh,” Jack says, the stumble coming out before he can stop it. “That’s a dog.”

“It sure is,” Angela says agreeably, depositing it in his arms and sipping her coffee. “Merry Christmas.”

“It’s June,” he deadpanned, as the wriggling little thing laps at his visor.

vii. notes: i wrote this in an hour and i dont know if i truly like it but bonnie the dog is a thing now. i literally just listened to alberta by eric clapton while writing this. will be on ao3 in half an hour. @snowsheba​ saw these hcs that inspired this first. 

It’s four in the morning the first time he tells Angela about the dreams.

Nightmares, really. The kind that leave him grasping at catching his breath, the sweat on his brow chilly wet and clingy in the Spanish night. The kind that leaves your heart thrumming in his ears. He doesn’t - he doesn’t think this is anything important, really. It should be expected, really. He’s old, now, and he’s been military for forty damn years. He’s seen some shit.

Most people who got up real early to find him already awake didn’t question it - dreams of their own, he guessed, or maybe just expecting career military to be up at the crack of dawn. And they weren’t wholly wrong - years on a farm and years in the military have him waking up earlier than most the base, on the nights where he doesn’t wake up around two or three.

It’s the fourth time that Angela’s woken up at three in the morning to find him awake. The kitchen. this time. The practice range twice before, and once in between that in one of the commons, a book on his lap. (He didn’t much like being there, on one of those nights, but he’d had a nightmare about an incident in Kuwait, and the walls of the room had been suffocating. Hana had also been sitting there, playing some vintage game in the low light. He figured they were there for similar reasons, and didn’t say a word for hours.)

“Jack,” Angela said. The clock on the wall is a bright, neon blue 3:49 AM. Jack, to his credit, manages to look up from his coffee and at her. In the fluorescent kitchen light, her dark circles look more prominent, the mess of her hair tied in a loose not. She has a bottle of water in her hand. She looks exhausted. Momentarily, he wonders how much sleep she’s getting, then feels like a hypocrite.

“Angela,” he musters, swallowing. “Lovely morning.”

“The sun won’t be up for another few hours,” she said. “Why are you up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says, which - it isn’t a lie, really. He couldn’t get back to sleep, after tonight.

“Doesn’t seem like you ever do,” she says, sliding down across from him. “That’s not good for your health.”

“I get a few hours,” he says. Three and a half, tonight. “Could be worse.”

“Jack,” she admonishes. “This isn’t - have you been dreaming?”

“Most people do sometimes,” he says, which - technically correct, but not what she’s asking. There is a beat, which is mostly filled with Angela frowning deeply at him and Jack staring at his coffee. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Except it doesn’t really work, because Angela is phenomenal at seeing through bullshit, and this isn’t the first accident she’s seen. (There was once, with a bottle of champagne, and the noise and laughing sounds like screaming so easily and. Jack had excused himself, mumbling, hands shaking. Angela had followed when everyone was distracted. Angela knows. How could he think he could win at lying to her?)

“There are people who can help with - everything,” she says. “I know a few that are - they’re good.” Jack fixates on everything but Angela’s face, feeling naked without the visor. He instead stares at where her neck meets her shoulder, the marks Fareeha had left. There’s a stain on her shirt’s collar, of what’s chocolate, coffee, or blood. It’s dried brown, almost reddish brown in the light. Out the window, the Gibraltar night is interrupted with crickets.

He wonders what Angela dreams of. People she couldn’t save, his mind fills in. Genji’s corpse-body, when they first brought him in. People she can’t save. Gunshots.

Jack sighs. It’s a gesture that makes him feel older than he is.

“They’re just bad dreams,” he says, voice low and deep. It feels like a confession. “Omnic Crisis. Overwatch. Old things. I’m an old man, Angela, it doesn’t mean anything’s wrong just because it keeps me up.”

“You’re not that old, compared to the average,” she muses absently. “You’re only forty nine.”

“Fifty in a few weeks,” he said, hoping for a diversion. “I’m not a young man anymore, anyway. And I can’t really see a therapist, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“Why not?”

“I’m legally dead, remember?” Angela nods, clearly contemplative. He closes his eyes. “‘s just dreams, either way. Doesn’t matter a bit.”

There’s a long pause. Angela rises from her seat. “Good night, Jack,” she murmurs.

For days, he waits to see if Angela brings it up again, or tells someone, or something. He’s worried about it.

It’s just dreams, and anxiety and - it doesn’t matter. He just doesn’t want people to look at him differently. But no one does and Angela doesn’t say anything. It’s almost as if their early morning conversation is forgotten.

It’s been nine days when he first realizes Angela didn’t forget at all. He’s sitting in a common room, talked into joining most of the other agents. People are mostly in their own groups. Hana and Genji are playing some Mario Kart thing, the engineers at a table discussing - schematics, he thinks, but he’d heard the words Pop Tarts and doubted himself - Jesse and Hanzo and Fareeha talking in soft voices. Lena, Reinhardt and Ana at a table, Wid- Amelie, he corrects himself - Amelie joining them. Sombra and Lucio at a table hollering about the game Hana and Genji are playing. Who had cajoled two thirds of their ex Talon agents and how is lost on him, but he’s almost glad Gabriel wasn’t here, even knowing - this is a talk for another day. Jack is at one of the old, worn seats, an old book in his lap.

“Jack!” Angela’s voice comes in from the hall, and most look up as she pushes the door open with her hip. It takes only a moment to discern why: in one hand is a mug of what is definitely coffee, and the other is a -

“I got you a present, you’re welcome,” Angela says.

“Uh,” Jack says, the stumble coming out before he can stop it. “That’s a dog.”

“It sure is,” Angela says agreeably, depositing it in his arms and sipping her coffee. “Merry Christmas.”

“It’s June,” he deadpanned, as the wriggling little thing laps at his visor.

“Happy early birthday,” she replies. “You turn fifty in two weeks. There.”

The puppy - which, relatively, is pretty big, a St Bernard if he had to guess - laps at his cheek next. “This is a dog,” he repeats. “Where did you get this?”

“Her,” Angela corrects. “She flunked out of being a therapy dog because she liked to lick strangers or something along those lines. She needed a home. Dogs, I’ve been told, lower stress. You’re going to give yourself a stroke or a heart attack at this rate.”

In that moment, he realizes this is about what they discussed but Angela doesn’t want to say it in public. He can appreciate that much. “Can we even keep a-”

Lena is by his side, scooping her up in a second. Her, the dog, not Angela. “Why are you protesting? It’s a dog! Accept it and move on.” The dog licks Lena’s face delightedly, and everyone resumes talking over each other about - well. Jack rises, giving Angela a look. She just grins back, satisfied.

“Fine,” he acquiesces. Arguing isn’t going to do much, anyway. Angela’d kill him if he tried to return her, anyway, even if he hasn’t had a dog since he was a teenager. His family had kept hunting and herding dogs, all of which loved his mother more than anything. She gave them the most scraps. Lena shoves the bundle of fur back into his arms after one last lick, and he stares at her as she returns to licking his face. Her, the dog, that is. Not Lena.

The dog follows him around all the time. When he sits, she sits on his feet, gets comfortable. Angela tells him she’s a six month St. Bernard. They called her Nessie in training, but she never learned the name and really, it just makes him think of conspiracy theories. (Dimly, he remembers Reinhardt rambling about - he really wants to say Bigfoot, but the memory is twenty five years old.)

He mostly just calls her Dog, which outrages an alarming amount of people. Expectedly, Ana, Lena, and Angela are most fond of Dog. Unexpectedly, he’s caught Hanzo giving her scraps four times in three days. When he enters a room that Hanzo and Bonnie are already in, she’s in his lap and he looks like a deer in the headlights. (It’s actually really fucking funny.)

He sets her on the floor before bed, but she’s always curled up next to him when he awakens, like a really furry pillow.

It takes five days for him to really get used to the idea she could provide actual help.

It’s - another bad dream, because of course it is. Jack gasps for breath, kicks off the blanket, brow slick cool with sweat. His heart pounds in his ears. Him kicking the blankets must of woke the Dog, as she bounces up, presses next to him.

She shoves her head and back against his hands, in a way that would be petting if it was his hands moving, not her body. She licks his face tentatively, as if seeing if that helps. Jack can feel his heart start to slow, faster than his normal calm down times. He moves his hands, callouses running against soft fur. Dog takes this as encouragement, licks him more excitedly. Jack closes his eyes.

Normally, he’d get up. He wouldn’t be back asleep regardless, so he may as well get up. But Dog settles in next to him, and petting her evens him out, makes it easier to settle. He lets himself be lulled to sleep.

In the morning, he names her Bonnie. It seems fitting, somehow. She seems like a Bonnie. He’ll talk to Angela about a collar, soon.

In the meantime, he sits down at the cafeteria table, Bonnie by his feet, and pretend he doesn’t see no less than five people feeding her scraps.

He goes on a day long mission on July 3rd. His birthday’s the next day (he’s getting old, he thinks). It’s a short thing, mission wise. Fifteen hours securing a payload in the heart of London and back.

He’s with Lucio, D.Va, Genji, Mei, and Sombra for it, all these young kids making him feel much older than he is. (Mei, Genji, and Sombra are all in their thirties, he remembers. But he’s fifty tomorrow. They’re kids to him, anyway. They all have much more.. zest than he does.)

He gets back late, and he’s a little sad to not have Bonnie at the door when he enters the room. He discards his jacket to the desk and changes fast, glancing at the bed to locate his dog. She’s sleeping in her exact normal spot, with an approximately Jack sized spot next to her. Jack slides in next to her, and she shifts awake, moving to press into him. She licks his face hello, and he calms her by petting her back for a few minutes.

He breathes easy, relaxed. After a few, he glances at the clock. 12:02.

“Happy birthday,” he hums warmly, closing his eyes.

He sleeps well that night.

now on ao3!

[practicepeaceandlove]

the struggle is real.

well, I havent been here in a minute. id like to think thats good, that ive been managing well without needing to write it out, but Idk how true that is. I’ve been using crutches in the forms of food, drinking, pot, and codependency. I’ve got to put an end to that though, and start getting some of this shit out. 

its been an interesting year so far. I lost my cousin to suicide in January. Lost a significant friendship later that month. Lost all hope and trust in a love-interest that I held on to for far too long. I’ve just been feeling used and secondary in a lot of my relationships. and that has left me feeling lonely. like, lonelier than I’ve ever felt. It’s uncomfortable. it actually fucking sucks. but trying to ride the feeling out. 

Despite these losses, I’ve had some amazing things come my way. I got a job with the state. In addiction treatment. In a new town. Working towards my goals. This definitely came at a time where I was becoming desperate to leave my job. Desperate for a change really. 

Mostly, I’m loving my life in Buffalo. I have way more time for me. I’m back at the gym. I’m walking dogs as a part time job. My drinking has decreased TREMENDOUSLY. Like, I drink once a week. And I’m not even crazy about that anymore. Hangovers are awful, and feels incredibly depressing. I think the decrease in drinking is due in large part to working at a rehab. Like, I’m naturally absorbing what we teach clients. I’m staying more present. it’s also been feeling really good to just be raw, and not cloud myself.

Before moving up here, I was so worried about the pay cut. Like I was stressing so much, constantly reworking my budget. Now that I’m here, I realize the dollar goes a lot farther, and im spending way less money on social outings. And I’m still saving, which is incredible. i definitely didn’t think id be able to swing that. 

so its been a mixed bag of ups and downs. the loneliness is the biggest issue. but I’m not rushing to return home, bc in a way, I was lonelier at home. I think when you begin to realize that you’re lonely in a room full of your friends, its really not an environmental thing, but an internal thing. That being said, my friendships are trimming down. And I’m realizing that some maybe wont hold out. I think people are very much just invested in whats in front of them at the moment. and im not in front of anyone really. 

Something my coworker said the other day really kind of resonated with me. He was talking to a client, who is very sociable, outgoing, amusing, demands attention. And my coworker called him out on it. That it wasnt his job to make everyone feel lighthearted and amused. That he’s a human with complex emotions, that sometimes can be ignored to fulfill a role he’s assigned himself. I think it’s really hitting me now that I do that a lot. I present with a bubbly, amusing, entertaining facade, and it takes a lot to pull the dark stuff from me sometimes. & when it gets the point that the dark stuff bubbles over, it’s big, and it’s scary to people who don’t expect it. People like to assign us roles to, and when we don’t fulfill them, we can feel like we’re disappointing people. 

What I’m getting to with that is... I have got to start only taking responsibility for disappointing myself. Fulfilling the roles that meet my values and needs. And if people cant accept it, then I’ll be okay without them because I’m living genuinely. 

This is bothering me tonight because I had such a hard night at work, but I know that it’s been on my mind for awhile. But at work, it just became so clear to me that the desire to be liked and feel validated drives so much of what I do. A patient accused me of being biased and favoring others, and it ripped me in half. I was legit second-guessing myself. And in a way I do though. I didn’t call a patient out on shit because there was a part of me feeling like I would let him down. I think I got so upset because the patient who was upset saw something in me that I try so fucking desperately to ignore. It rattled me. 

I think that for far too long, because I like people, I’ve let them walk all over me. Or not so much all over me, because it’s not personal. Some people are more aggressive about what they want, and attempt to take it. And it doesn’t fly with a lot of people, and they may have been stopped in their tracks. But I let a lot of shit fly. And they learn that their typical tricks will fly with me. 

It comes down to this: I have to fucking start liking myself more than I like other people. I put a lot of energy into others. Into being a good friend. Into trying to be a good girlfriend.  But I don’t think I’ve put much into determining what I really want. What are deal-breakers for me. Or if I do know them, I put little energy into maintaining those boundaries. 

So i’ve got a lot my mind. But I’m going to start working on getting it out. In a closing thought, I’m rewatching Six Feet Under, and for the first time ever, I am relating to David. His loneliness is speaking to me so strongly. Also, he’s going through a bit of an identity crisis during this season, and I’m with that too. But seasons come, and they go.