#i wasn’t in the mood to draw armor so it doesn’t look especially good

[gaiah]

The first meeting

—

Reference below the cut:

[novasintheroom]

Tournament - Prince Vash x Reader

A hot day for a tournament. The sun beats down on the backs and necks of attendees, flies buzzing through the air, drawn to the scent of horses and sweat. Fans try to wave away the heat, but people are growing sluggish and red.

You sit under the set-up awning for the royal family and higher nobles. The fan in your hand swats at the air and insects around your face. Drops of sweat streak down your back under your dress. Not for the first time (or the fifth), you wish the tournament would end early. At least then you could return to the relative coolness of the castle.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Highness?” Meryl asks at your side. Bless her, she must notice your slowly deteriorating mood.

“Well enough,” you say. Then, leaning toward her, you whisper, “Prince Vash will make an appearance soon, correct?”

The smile she gives you has you blushing. “Eager to see our prince in action?”

You wave the fan once, twice. “More eager to get out of this heat.”

Meryl hums in agreement, fluttering her own fan for a breeze. Before you, a clattering of armor and weapons. The four combatants wail on each other mercilessly. One goes down with a kick, then the other is hit in the back, a ringing gong as they also fall. The final two warriors circle each other. The first charges, catching the other in a defensive move before throwing them down to the ground. The crowd cheers and whoops, and Millie takes off her helmet to raise it high in triumph. Sweat glistens on her brow, her hair sticking to her face where it has fallen lose of the ponytail she had it in.

You and Meryl cheer loudly for her. You especially ignore the look Nai gives you on the side. Let him disapprove. You would cheer for your new friend if you wanted.

Millie is handed a white rose, and she grins. She hurries over to the sidelines and presents it to Wolfwood, his priest regalia hot under the blazing sun. Nicholas tenses at the presentation but regains his usual smirk, tipping his head in thanks. Millie leans forward with her cheek, and Nicholas presses a quick peck to it – the usual ceremony of being chosen as a tournament victor’s man or lady.

“The prince usually picks a new girl every year to present his rose to,” Meryl comments idly, clapping as Wolfwood pins the rose to his vest. It looks good on him. “I have no doubt he’ll be presenting the rose to you this year, my lady.”

But of course. Even as your stomach clenches in nerves, you know it’s the only proper thing for a husband to do for his wife – unless he has a public mistress. Which, you think, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t…Yet, looking at all the eager young ladies both in the booth and surrounding the grounds, you can’t help but wonder. He certainly has his pick of the bunch if he chooses.

The announcer climbs to his stand again. “We will now begin the archery tournament! First, Lord Hircine of the Red Marshes!” Crowds cheer and girls titter as the first young lord stepped up, fits his bow, and fires at the targets.

So it went for the next twenty minutes. It wasn’t until the very last combatant that the announcer proclaimed: “Prince Vash, of the Kingdom of JuLai!” A ruckus of roars goes up from the attendees, and you straighten your back. Vash steps forward, waving at the crowd and smiling. He looks radiant. This is his place, his people.

A surprise comes out in the form of a horse. Your brows twitch downward. “Ah,” Meryl says, waving a hand, “his trick this year. He’s been talking about how he wants to ‘wow the crowd.’”

“Is that allowed?” You ask.

Meryl shrugs and sighs. “The prince often does what he wants. Besides, riding a horse while shooting in archery makes it harder for him, not easier, so I see no reason not to allow it.”

The crowds murmur as Vash mounts the horse, then kicks it into a trot, then a canter, then a full-blown run around the field. With his bow, he draws back, and fires at the first target. Bullseye. He fires at the second and hits the middle again. People cheer and clap their hands, whooping at Vash as he goes by.

Then, he does something dangerous. He takes his leg over the saddle and rides on the side of the horse, pulling back the short bow and firing a trick shot into the air. Amazing how it lands perfectly centered in the target. He does this again, and again, switching sides on the horse with acrobatic precision when a target gets close. The crowds lose their minds. Even the other combatants shout encouragement at the prince, awed by both his archery and horse-riding skills combined.

You can’t help but stand to watch, leaning against the railing and watching this man, your husband, ride by. The grin on your cheeks hurts. Vash sees you and throws you a salute and grin, even slowing the horse down to blow a quick kiss at you. Cheeky, you think. With a thwack, the final arrow hits the last target. You and Meryl clap vigorously with the people, cheering the show on, even calling out encores.

Vash finishes with a deft dismount in front of the announcer. He gives a low bow to the crowd, who continue to yell and scream out his name. The announcer pats the prince on the back, murmuring something to him. Vash laughs. Taking the prince’s hand, the announcer raises it and says, “With an amazing score of twenty out of twenty targets hit in the center, I pronounce Prince Vash of the kingdom of JuLai this year’s archery winner!”

Everyone cheers. The only person who stays in his seat is Nai, who only claps. Vash is presented with the white rose of a victor, and your stomach clenches in nerves again. He looks around at the crowd, the girls lining the fence and waving him over with kerchiefs and hands. But his gaze lands on you, still standing on the low stage for royalty. His smile is warm, and he trots over to the fence, vaulting it and coming to a stop just a few inches below you.

He hands you the white rose. It is beautiful, and simple, and smells lovely. You give him your shyest smile. Vash grins, and tilts his face, tapping his cheek. Cheeky, you think again, and a rush of defiance overcomes you. You take hold of his chin and press your lips quickly to his – just quick enough to catch him off-guard.

Not quickly enough, though - he still manages to press his lips back, automatic and eager, even if he doesn't realize it. The crowd oohs and cheers. You break the kiss and turn before you can look at him too long; even the girls laugh at the look of shock on their prince’s face.

You head back and sit down in your chair. Vash is still leaning over the railing, eyes wide and cheeks red. You raise your brows. What are you waiting for? Go on. When he doesn't move, Nai clears his throat loudly. Vash shakes himself after a moment and gives you his own shy smile. It turns into a full-blown grin as he turns and shakes his hands in the air for the crowd. They cheer and wave back and call out to him as he makes his way out of the tournament grounds.

Meryl leans over. “Well, now you’ve done it. The crowd will expect that every year from now on.”

Your brows raise again. “Is that not customary here?”

“To kiss your husband publicly? No.” She smiles. “But it may become customary now!”

You feel your own blush crawl up your cheeks. You didn’t expect to break custom with that one action; you just wanted to humble Vash a bit. Nai is full-on glaring at you now. But you hold your head high, taking the scrutinizing gaze of your new people with dignity. You even see a few people shyly kiss their significant other on the lips as they trail away from the fences.

Carefully, you pin the rose to your bodice, right above your heart, and think about your second kiss with your husband. His lips were soft, a bit chapped.  You had a long way to go before you did that again. But it still felt nice to break from tradition for a moment.

[voiceless-terror]

I mean, I don’t believe in the predictive power of dreams, obviously, but still, it’s a deeply unsettling thing to find. I had Tim look into it, as I don’t entirely trust the others not to have written it as a practical joke and slipped it into the archives. - Episode 11, Dreamer

Jon stares down at the paper in his hands.

He’s had many an unkind thought towards Gertrude, his predecessor, the woman responsible for this mess and the current bane of his existence. She’s been the topic of most of his grumbling as he sorts through piles of nonsense and decaying cardboard boxes. He’s got no love lost for her, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy she’s dead. Or, specifically, to have a statement apparently predicting it through the medium of some prophetic dream. Ridiculous. He wants to feel detached, unaffected, but he can’t help the sickly sense of dread that creeps up his spine and lingers in his throat. 

It was your face and the expression upon it was far more fearful than any I had seen in eight years of wandering this twilight city.

Jon doesn’t know Antonio Blake and has no reason to believe him. But he’s known something’s wrong for a long time now.

He’s never admitted it aloud, never within his assistant’s hearing range, but he can feel it, as foolish as that sounds. This miasma of wrong, of being watched, of becoming...something else, that happens every time he records a statement. Despite the academic detachment he aspires to, he does attempt to empathize with each statement-giver and get into their mindset. But what he’s doing here...it’s different. He can visualize it so perfectly, the terror in their words sticking in his throat and setting his own heart pounding, as if he were the one experiencing it and not just regurgitating it to an ancient recorder. He’s always had an ‘overactive imagination,’ as his grandmother would say, but this is relentless in its manifestation. The fear is real, not imagined. Each statement draws him further and further away from the safety he used to cling to, where the only real cases were few and far between and the most sinister things lurking out there in the world were books and the monsters within them.

And as much as he wants to linger on the false accounts and take comfort in tearing them apart, his hands automatically seek the real ones, the right ones. It’s frightening, the ease with which he finds them nowadays. Perhaps he’s a better archivist than he thinks. 

She died and you’ll be next, something whispers to him. He’s being dramatic, as he’s wont to do, but it feels true. Every statement that doesn’t record correctly, every follow-up he has to qualify with an ‘I would dismiss this, but-’ is starting to add up. His nights have become restless. He often lies awake regretting that he ever took this job, that he left the relative safety of research for a position he’s not sure how to fill, his only reassurance Elias’s occasional emails that he’s ‘moving in the right direction,’ whatever that means.

Jon assumed he’d be more removed from the dangerous aspects of the job that research entailed- following up, going to locations, field work. And it’s true, he has assistants to do that for him now. Dependable, for the most part. And while he should feel safe in his tiny office with nothing but dust and paper and cobwebs (good lord, the cobwebs) he feels more unsettled and exposed than ever. He once joked he’d die of old age before getting the archives in order. But now a stroke sounds much more pleasant than whatever happened to Gertrude. If it’s true.

Perhaps it’s a joke, he thinks. Planted by one of the others, designed specifically to unsettle him. Well, it worked. 

It wouldn’t be surprising. He’s...not had the best start. The promotion was a surprise, but not wholly unexpected; he knew he’d been on Elias’s radar, though he wasn’t expecting it quite so soon. He’s young and unfortunately, it shows. The way he stutters through department meetings, talking about digitization while the others, all of whom have at least a decade on him, shoot pitying looks. He stays later and later, the desire to show some sort of progress even as he discovers more mess by the day. The permanent scowl that now graces his features becomes his armor as he walks the halls and feels himself becoming the uptight, unlikable curmudgeon everyone believes him to be. The one time I measure up to expectations, he can’t help thinking.

A joke. There’s a comfort in that. At least it’s familiar.

But it didn’t record to the laptop, his traitorous mind supplies. It's a bit sad he would prefer it to be a mundane attempt at bullying rather than a real expression of the supernatural, but he supposes it’s par for the course. There were many nights as a child he wished for the same thing, for that boy to go back to taking his lunch money and the occasional beating or two instead of…still, he dismisses it from his mind. You don’t know there’s a correlation. Follow up. Disprove it. 

He’s interrupted from his musings by a knock on the door and the vague outline of Martin through the frosted glass. “Come in,” he calls, attempting to inject some irritation in his voice to cover up the shakiness. “Did you need something?”

“Ah, I finished my write up for the Herbert case, was wondering if you had anything else for me?”

His hand hovers over the statement on his desk. He opens his mouth but then closes it, thinking better.

“Can you send Tim in, actually?”

______

“Sorry boss, I couldn’t find anything on this Antonio Blake fellow- well, at least with the details he provided, which were next to none. Proper spooky, though.”

Of his assistants, he trusts Tim the most with this sort of thing. 

On a surface level, it wouldn’t make sense to some. Tim can be loud and gregarious: the typical, charming extrovert. But he’s not unkind and he’s a hell of a researcher, especially when something grabs his interest. He digs into statements and doesn’t let go- not unlike Sasha, though he’s a bit better at empathizing and handling things...sensitively. Easily attuned to Jon’s moods, Tim’s always been willing to lend an ear whenever he gets too in his head about cases, helping him talk things through or on several memorable occasions, go down the rabbit hole with him. He’d taken the statement from his hands with an easy smile, though his face grew serious with the nervous look Jon shot him.

And if Tim couldn’t find anything, well. Maybe it was a prank after all.

He sort of wanted it to be true, frightening as the implications were. Because then it would mean this terrible, heavy feeling on his shoulders was real, and not just the byproduct of his own mediocrity. He doesn’t want to be scared, he doesn’t want to be in danger, but at least it would provide a real reason for panic, and not just his own inability to measure up.  He doesn’t want to prove them all right, collapsing under the stress of a job poorly done and so easily crumbling at a stupid, made-up statement, targeted as it may be. 

“A joke, then.” Jon says, rubbing a hand at his temples, trying not to let the hurt seep into his voice. Tim makes a commiserating noise.

“You know how people are, the institute isn’t exactly popular. You remember last Halloween, when-”

“Yes, I don’t need a reminder.” Jon sighs. He’d rather not relive that day, stressful as it was. “But that wasn’t quite what I was thinking.”

Tim stares at him for a moment, uncomprehending. Jon continues, attempting to make his hands busy as he pointlessly shuffles papers.

“It’s rather pointed, isn’t it? I doubt someone off the street would create such a detailed account of the death of an...archivist as opposed to the usual ghostly drivel.”

A look of pity flickers in Tim’s eyes and Jon has to turn away. “I don’t really think anyone here would-”

“Really? You don’t?” Jon lets out a mirthless laugh, rubbing a hand across his face as he stares down at his desk. “I’m not blind. Or deaf.” The derisive snorts if he goes off on ‘needless tangents,’ how Rosie pretends to be busy whenever he approaches Elias’s office, the way his name badge still reads ‘researcher’ after months of asking for a new one. He’s basically become a pariah.

“Jon, did someone say something to you?” The words are carefully chosen and he’s leaning forward now, making as if to stand up and god forbid, do something comforting. It’s not that Jon doesn’t want the comfort; he craves it more than anything. But he’s gone without for so long he doesn’t trust himself not to break at the gentlest of touches. Being on the receiving end of Tim’s protective streak is nothing new, but he shouldn’t need his assistant looking out for him like he’s some sort of helpless infant. 

He snorts derisively instead, covering up the insecurity and hurt with a sardonic, self-effacing smile. The kind he knows Tim hates. “They don’t need to. I’ve walked in on conversations, I’ve seen the way people go quiet, the looks they give me-”

“Hey,” Tim’s voice is low, like he’s dealing with a frightened animal. Jon wonders how he looks, if Tim’s going this soft. “Don’t listen to them, alright? You inherited a mess, we all did- but we’re doing our best, yeah? Study and record, like Elias said.” Jon doesn’t dodge the hand that finally lands on shoulder, and he’ll deny to anyone that he leaned into it. 

“Study and record.” He repeats listlessly, slumping back down into his seat. He’s let himself get too worked up, acting like a child instead of a boss. He’s not sure when he started wearing his heart on his sleeve, but Tim’s always been good at reading him. Though he’d rather people think him an arrogant ass than the seething mess of insecurity he truly is. 

“Atta boy.” The pat to his shoulder is purposefully light, devoid of Tim’s usually friendly force that sends him stumbling forward. “Now get out of here at a normal time, alright? We can grab lunch tomorrow. Just the two of us, if you like.”

Jon makes a noncommittal grunt, though the thought is nice.  He entertains the idea for just a moment, remembering their occasional outings back in research. Tomorrow he’ll make his excuses. He hasn’t been much of a friend as of late, and he’s not sure he deserves the kindness of company.

“And if there’s anyone that needs a stern talking to from me, I-” Tim wags a finger and Jon rolls his eyes, ignoring the pang of warmth the words send through his chest.

“Don’t, please. It’s fine.” It isn’t. “But...thank you, Tim.”

“Course.” A wink and a sloppy salute to lighten the mood, and Jon feels the tension in his posture ease minutely as Tim shuts the door behind him. 

He lets out a breath and reaches for the tape recorder. He’s wasted too much time already.  

Be careful. There is something coming for you and I don’t know what it is, but it is so much worse than anything I can imagine. At the very least, you should look into appointing a successor.

Good luck.

He fights a shiver as the man’s voice leaves him and the last vestiges of that twilight world fade back to his dimly-lit office. In his follow up, he tries to play it off as a joke. A bit of hazing for the new boss. And yet the uneasiness still creeps into his voice, and he ends another tape on a stilted, half-believed note.

If this is genuine…

Jon prays that it isn’t. 

And like most of his prayers, it goes unheard and unanswered.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32165071

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[sithsecrets]

rumors | din djarin x reader

A bit of gossip gets under your skin, but Din shows you that it's all a bunch of lies.

---

4k words

mentions: VERY EXPLICIT SMUT, fem!reader, a bit of harassment at the beginning, self-doubt, establishing a relationship, discussions about relationship dynamics, din tells reader his name

---

You know you’re in for trouble the minute two Guild Members sidle up next to you at the bar, shit-eating grins plastered on both of their faces.

They greet you and the baby with a kind of fake friendliness that makes your skin crawl, and not for the first time do you wonder what’s taking Mando and Greef so fucking long. The two men usually do business in under ten minutes, five if Mando can manage it, but of course today is the one day they decide to shoot the shit and pal around like old friends.

“So you’re Mando’s crew member, huh?” asks one of the bounty hunters, light eyes glinting mischievously as he leans in. “What’s he paying you these days anyway? Because I’d be happy to double his rate if it meant getting to have something as pretty as you around me all the time.”

“Ten percent,” you answer, choosing to ignore that last little comment, “and I’m perfectly okay with that.”

“That’s not bad,” Blue Eyes’ friend answers, brushing back a lock of his greasy hair with a smirk. “But what does that fee cover? You just a nanny for whatever the fuck that is,” he gestures to the Child in your lap, “or do you provide Mando with other services as well?”

On your left, Blue Eyes lets out a snicker, and Stringy Hair seems pleased with himself. You huff and roll your eyes, not at all in the mood for this shit.

“I take care of the baby and the ship, and I pilot the Crest from time to time.”

“You hear that, man? She’s a pilot and a maid!”

“Three guesses as to what she gives a good spit shine every night,” and then the two of them are absolutely cracking up, snickering behind their glasses as they toss back a round. They’re just mocking you now, so desperately trying to get a reaction, and you’re horrified by how it’s almost working. You don’t want to give them the satisfaction, but if they so much as—

“Everything alright over here?”

Mando’s voice is like a bucket of cold water down your back, startling you so badly that you almost fall off your barstool. The baby lets out a shriek of surprise, and you rush to make sure he’s secure in your arms before you turn around.

“Just fine,” you lie, rushing to get up. “We were just talking about your latest bounty.”

Stringy Hair and Blue Eyes don’t move to correct you, much more subdued now that Mando’s arrived on the scene. They greet him with respect, but he hardly gives the two dickheads a passing glance.

“We need to get back,” Mando tells you, and you’ve never been so glad to hear those words.

You nod, and then the three of you are trekking back to the Crest in silence. Mando goes up the cockpit immediately once you arrive, off to punch in the coordinates for his next quarry. Apparently Greef’s given him some kind of special assignment, so they journey to the next planet will be a long one.

The Crest lurches into hyperspace within minutes of takeoff, and you try to settle in for the evening, putting the baby down for the night, getting ready for bed yourself. The Child sleeps like a rock, but you aren’t so fortunate, tossing and turning in your little bed. It’s the conversation with those two assholes from earlier that’s got you so restless, their words playing over and over again in your head on loop. You don’t know why what they said bothers you, but it does. It bothers you a lot, in fact, mostly because they weren’t entirely wrong.

Everything you told Blue Eyes and Stringy Hair is true— Mando cuts you in ten percent on his bounties, and in exchange, you take care of the baby, maintain the ship (its living spaces and its mechanics, thank you very much), and you pilot the Crest from time to time when asked. But… But you’ve also fucked Mando before. Twice. Three times if you count the blowjob you gave him last week, but you’re not entirely sure that fits under the definition of “fucking.” Regardless of the details, you’ve had sexual contact with the Mandalorian— this is a fact. Mando’s never directly offered you money in return for sex, but it’s not like he didn’t just pay you your cut of his bounty less than an hour ago. And if those two pigs from the cantina could peg you at fifty yards, Maker knows what everybody else is thinking. Greef, Cara, even Peli on Tatooine— all of them must think you’re just Mando’s whore, right along with the rest of the Guild.

The idea of this weighs heavy on your mind, two parts of you waging an internal war. Your rational side says that you shouldn’t care what other people think of you— you’re a grown woman approaching thirty, and what you do with your body and your time is no one’s business but your own. The side of you that yearns to be accepted, however, worries that everyone’s secretly laughing at your behind your back, that they all think very little of you because of what you’ve done. And how could you blame them? You’ve let your employer fuck you twice, and all without him showing you an ounce of affection otherwise. Just thinking about it makes you feel remorseful, anxiety twisting in your stomach as you toss and turn in bed. And to make things worse, a third voice emerges in your mind, one that’s small and timid and raw. This little part of you wonders what Mando thinks of all this— it wonders what Mando thinks of you. You feel sick the minute it occurs to you, the notion that Mando could think nothing of you as well. Everyone else can say whatever they want, you suppose, if Mando still respects you at the end of the day. If he still cares for you at the end of the day…

After a whole hour, you decide that you won’t be sleeping until you get all of this sorted out. You’re almost shaking with anxiety as you approach the ladder, but you climb up to the cockpit anyway, calling out Mando’s name with a wavering voice. He says you can come in, and so you do, padding into the little space on socked feet.

“Everything okay?” Mando asks, vaguely distracted as he looks through holoimages on the display before him. You catch snatches of the same alien being in each one— Mando’s next quarry, no doubt.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “The baby’s asleep. He went down well tonight.”

Mando hums. “Good.”

“I, um. I’m having trouble sleeping, though, and I was hoping we could talk.”

Mando doesn’t look away from the holoimages as he speaks to you. “What about?”

You balk for a moment, gathering courage. “Us.”

Finally, it would seem you have Mando’s full attention. He shuts off the display and turns his chair until it faces you, the blue light of hyperspace reflecting off his armor and helmet. You grow shy under Mando’s gaze as you so often do, but you force yourself to be brave anyway. You can’t go on like this— you have to know.

“Us?” Mando echoes, titling his helmet just the slightest bit forward. You nod, and he straightens up again, regarding you. “What about us?”

“The sex,” you say slowly, “or, more specifically, why we had sex in the first place.”

“We had sex because we wanted to,” Mando says at once, and you just want to scream. He won’t make this easy on you, will he?

“Right, of course, but… but what made you want to come at me like that? Do you just like my body and how I look, or is it because you pay me—?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mando cuts, losing all semblance of cool indifference in one fell swoop, “you don’t— Please don’t tell me that you think having sex with me is part of your job.”

“I don’t, I don’t!” you declare, rushing to prevent a miscommunication before it happens. “I just— I just wasn’t sure why you wanted me of all people, and I met some people today that thought you hired me just so you could fuck me or whatever. They—”

“Was it those two fuckheads from the cantina?” Mando asks, tone absolutely murderous, and all you can do is nod. “What exactly did they say?”

“They asked me about my pay and about what’s ‘included in my fee,’” you reply, face burning at the thought of what Stringy Hair and Blue Eyes said at the bar. “They said you were probably paying me for sex the way you pay me to take care of the ship and the baby. It just… It made me self-conscious because we have had sex, and I wasn’t sure what that meant. I know they’re just assholes, but now I’m afraid everybody thinks that of me, especially Cara and Greef and your other friends.”

Mando lets out a long, heavy sigh. “Come here,” he says, beckoning you over with an outstretched hand. You hesitate to move, shocked by the gesture, and the Mandalorian repeats himself. “Come here, cyar’ika, please.”

The beskar is cold against the back of your thighs, but you settle in Mando’s lap anyway, sure you must be dreaming at this point. He fingers the hem of your long, baggy sleepshirt, one arm holding you securely.

“None of my friends think you’re fucking me for money,” Mando begins, “I promise. Those guys from the Guild you met today, they’re assholes just like you said. They might treat their women that way, but that’s not me. It never will be. Understand?”

You nod shyly, relishing in the way Mando begins drawing little circles at the base of your spine.

“Good. Now to answer your question… I had sex with you because I wanted to, yes, but it wasn’t just to get off. The baby likes you, and you do a good job taking care of the ship. People like you wherever we go… Ilike being around you.”

You’re smart enough to know that that’s a big statement coming from a man like Mando, and you reward him for this display of vulnerability with a soft smile.

“I like being around you too, Mando.”

The helmet tilts just the slightest bit, and you wonder what his expression looks like under the beskar.

“I like being around you,” Mando repeats, speaking slowly, “and… and I’m sorry. For starting like that, I mean.”

Your brows draw together. “What are you talking about?”

Mando readjusts his grip on your, and the way his hand settles over the curve of your thigh is enough to make you shiver. “I should have taken my time with you. Fucking you against the wall, bending you over those crates in the back— that’s fine sometimes, but you deserve more.”

“If that’s how you like it, I don’t—”

He cuts you off then, a gloved thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

“I don’t care about me right now,” Mando says evenly, the tone of his voice picking at something deep in your stomach. “What do you want?”

It dawns on you then that this is foreplay— Mando’s decided he wants to fuck you again— and that makes your face hotter than fire itself. You know he’s waiting for an answer, so you decide to speak freely, the consequences of your words be damned.

“I want you to fuck me in bed,” you say slowly, whispering more than you’re talking. “With your gloves off. That’s not against the rules, right? You took them off the other day in front of me and Cara—”

“It’s not, mesh’la,” Mando affirms, the strange word dripping off his tongue like honey. You wonder what it means, though you don’t have the nerve to ask. “Go down to the hull and make us a space on the floor. I’ll be there in a minute.”

---

The darkness is disorienting, the blackness so black that you couldn’t see your own hand if it was two inches in front of your face. That’s by design, though, because none of this would be okay if you couldsee.

You had exactly two conditions earlier in the cockpit: in bed, no gloves. But it would seem that Mando had so much more in mind when he told you to come down here, and it’s anything beyond what you could have ever dreamed of. You’ve imagined this situation before, thought about what it might be like to know Mando this way, but to have it happen…

The beskar clangs softly as Mando lays it down, the sound letting you know that he’s somewhere off to your right. You’re sure he’s having no trouble seeing in the dark, given how many settings there on in his visor, but you can’t see a fucking thing. Not him, not his discarded armor, not even your own hand in front of you face. Under any other circumstance, you’d be afraid of the dark, but not now. No, now you simply tremble with anxiety, naked skin prickling with chills as you wait for Mando to undress himself. He stripped you first, of course, when the lights were still on, took his time and peeled your clothes off of you almost with reverence. You wish you could do the same to him, but something about that would be wrong you think— it would be crossing a line.

“Are you sure this is allowed?” you ask, almost whispering. The baby’s upstairs in the cockpit, dead to the world and tucked safely in his pram, and yet you still feel like you’re being too loud. Hyperspace is always so quiet, and the silence sets your teeth on edge even after all this time.

“Can you see me?” Mando asks, voice still filtered and staticky.

“I can’t even see myself,” you counter.

“Then it’s allowed.”

No more words pass between either of you for a moment, the space filled with the sound of clothes rustling. You hear a belt buckle and a zipper, can trace out the sounds of pants being kicked to the floor… Three short, bare footsteps, and then you aren’t alone on your little pallet anymore, Mando presence warm and undeniable close on the other side of the cushions.

“Cyar’ika.”

You aren’t sure if it’s the circumstances, or the fact that Mando speaks to you with a raw, unfiltered voice, but this one word picks at something inside you, gets you hot and needy where it counts. How many people has he laid down with like this? How many of them have heard Mando’s voice, his real voice, if any at all? You don’t know the answer to either of those questions, but you also don’t care, not right now.

“Can I touch you?” you ask softly, mustering all your strength and bravery. Mando doesn’t response, doesn’t so much as let out a breath, and so you jump when you feel his hand on your own. He guides you across the blankets, pulling you in closer, laying your palm on the warm, solid expanse of his forearm. Your fingers curl around it, squeezing the muscle, admiring the way Mando simply feels under your hands. He’s had so much of you— practically your whole body— and yet all you’ve been blessed with until tonight is the warmth of his hands, the feeling of his cock in you and on you. To feel his bare skin like this is strange, the fact that Mando is really and truly human coming into sharp focus as your fingers run along a scar, the hair on his arms…

“You’re handsome,” you declare, awed by feeling of Mando under your palms. He shudders when you lay your hand on the side of his face, the movement almost flinch-like in nature, but you’re quick to soothe his nerves with a gentle stroke of your thumb. You can’t imagine what this is like for Mando, can’t fathom what it must feel like to be touched when you hide yourself from everyone all the time. It’s in this moment that you realize he knows nothing of the sun or the wind, and your heart breaks for him.

“You wouldn’t say that if the lights were on.”

Mando sounds vaguely nervous now himself, voice more subdued than it was before. You have so much you want to say, want to shout out that you love everything about him and his body and your life together, but you that would be too much. No, doing something like that could ruin all of this in one fell swoop, and so you swallow those words down, replacing them with something else instead.

“If I ever get to see you one day,” you tell him, “I know for a fact that I’ll say the same thing. I promise.”

There’s a strange weight in that, a certain trust and understanding that you can’t put your finger on, but the pressure isn’t uncomfortable as it settles in the atmosphere, pressing you and Mando even closer. He pulls you under him without a word, holding you, twining your arms and legs and hands together until you aren’t sure where yours end and his begin. His kisses are tentative and unpracticed, but you feel the passion regardless, sighing as the press of Mando’s mouth tells you all the things he can’t say out loud. You don’t know how you ever got things twisted, aren’t sure how you could have possibly thought that Mando didn’t care for you because these aren’t the kisses and caresses of a man who sees you as little more than something to fuck. No, this is something else entirely, something better than you ever could have hoped for, and the rush of endorphins as your head swimming.

Your entire body arches when Mando begins to crawl down your body, his lips trailing over your neck and chest, your stomach and even the curve of your hip. “Mesh’la,” he says to you, murmuring into the spaces between your fingers. Mando’s paying particular attention to your hands now, kissing them delicately. “Listen to me, please.”

“Yes?” you say, half moaning as he drops your hand in favor of propping your legs open. The anticipation has you dizzy, brain fogged over completely as you wait, as you feel him line up your bodies—

Mando doesn’t say anything, not for several seconds, too distracted by the feel of you to speak. You’re fine with that, already too far gone to care after what, two, three thrusts? You couldn’t keep count if you wanted to, the haze in your brain too thick for any tedious mental activity to penetrate. Still, you try to listen like he asked, try to understand the words coming out of his mouth.

Mando’s voice is strained and low, but you catch everything regardless. “My name is Din,” he says to you, groaning shortly when you wind your fingers in his hair. “You can’t— You can’t say that in front of anyone, only to me and the baby. But that’s my name. I want you to call me by my name.”

“Anything you want, Din,” you say at once, and Maker does that have him swearing. Din does something with your body— opens your legs or lifts up your hips, something— and you see stars, whining brokenly. Not for the first time do you wish you could see his face or the plane of his back as he fucks you, but you have to admit that you’re glad that Din’s blind in all of this as well. You don’t even want to think about what you look like, how ruined and desperate your face must be. The pace is relentless now, and you find yourself struggling to keep up, keening and moaning and taking it until Din’s talking to you again.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, and you don’t understand.

“What?” you ask, breathless yourself. He hasn’t let up once since the two of you began, and even though you haven’t cum once, you already feel like you’re on another plane of existence.

“I’m sorry I never—” Din groans, adjusting his grip on your body. “I’m sorry I’m so bad at all of this shit. Talking and letting go and all the other stuff normal people do. I shouldn’t— You deserve more than that. I’m so sorry, cyar’ika.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” you tell him, holding fast to his shoulders, his arms, anything you can get your hands on. You don’t know how to tell him that all this is more than enough to make up for everything, that there’s hardly anything to make up for as it is.

“Yes, there is,” Din presses, and you know he wants to say more, but you cut him off before he can continue.

“Make me cum and kiss me while you do it,” you say to him, “and we’ll call it even.”

And Din seems more than happy to accept the deal, his fingers on your clit not three seconds after you’re done talking. You cum almost too fast, blindsided by your orgasm despite the fact that it’s been building for what feels like years now. Din’s not far behind you, asking whether or not he can cum inside you, and you tell him no, not this time. You have a long-term implant, but you it hasn’t been looked at by a medic in well over a year. It’s probably fine, but you’d rather be safe than sorry. And anyway, it’s not like the feeling of Din’s cum painting your stomach and chest isn’t incredibly hot, so you’re by no means complaining as you lie there and listen to him jerk himself off, your name falling from his lips.

“Stay here,” Din tells you, speaking gently even as he works to catch his breath. You miss him the second he’s gone, your ears straining to track his movements in the dark. Careful footsteps, the shuffling of blankets, the click of the light in the ‘fresher— you can’t see Din, not from this angle, but the idea that he even trusts you enough to cut a light on at a time like this has your heart pounding. He’s completely exposed in there, helmet still sitting next to his armor across the hull, and you almost close your eyes on reflex as you listen to the water run. But it’s all for nothing because Din tells you to do it anyway, turning off the faucet and stepping out into the hull again after you say that you’ve done as he asked.

The washcloth Din cleans you with is warm, a fact that’s not lost on you as you lie there in the semi-darkness. He’s quiet, but the delicate, precise nature of Din’s work speaks volumes. You want to ask him if this is something he does for everyone he sleeps with, but you keep your mouth shut, thinking a question like that might ruin the mood. He goes away from you again once your stomach’s clean, cutting off the light in the ‘fresher and discarding the rag all while you keep your eyes closed. It’s not until Din’s back in bed beside you that you dare to so much as crack them open, afraid you might glimpse too much if you move any sooner.

“Thank you,” you murmur. You’re not sure if you’re thanking Din for the sex or for cleaning you up, but it’s probably a bit of both.

“You’re welcome, cyar’ika,” he replies, pulling you in close. “Are you tired?”

You don’t speak for a moment, thinking of how hard it is to keep your eyes open now, how your thighs ache and your body yearns for rest. “Yeah.”

“Sleep, then,” Din tells you, and you almost feel pathetic for clinging to him like a child. Almost.

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

You aren’t sure why you’re asking— it’s not like Din has anywhere else to go— but his answer is important to you regardless.

“Right here, mesh’la,” he tells you, sounding tired now himself. “I promise.”

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

promise me that you’ll start where i end

A/N: 3rd Life SMP but i make it more dramatic. also i made the mistake of listening to drivers license by olivia rodrigo while writing this and cried. i'd say enjoy but i don't think that's the correct emotion to experience while reading this. (title is from Boreas by The Oh Hellos)

Summary: An argument before Scott's world- one of color, light, and love- falls to pieces and turns dark. And the friend who tries to collect those pieces and bring back a little light to him.

Warnings: minor violence, talk of death, arguing, hugs, crying, canonical character death, grief/mourning, bittersweet ending

-

Scott leaned against the potions table with a sigh. There were too many close calls today. Each brush with Dogwarts nearly cost either him or Jimmy their lives, not to mention that Cleo lost one of her lives trying to escape the Red King and his men. Then there was the whole issue with Joel, his attempt on Scott’s life, and their wall- he wasn’t looking forward to rebuilding it, especially just out of cobblestone or some other stone. A small smile was brought to his face as he remembered how Jimmy instantly wanted to go after Joel, even though the other man was already long gone. It should have been concerning, how fast Jimmy could seemingly switch between being a lost puppy or a feral wolf on his red life. Instead, it was actually sort of endearing. It would be more endearing if it didn’t give Scott a near heart attack every time his husband tried to rush forward into danger. Scott squeezed his eyes shut at the sudden onslaught of memories- Jimmy running through lava for a prize, his eagerness to pick up a piece of tnt and the resulting destruction it caused, Jimmy staring Ren down as he burned the Dogwarts flag (and then himself), Jimmy drawing his bow when Scott was trying to de-escalate a situation and just ask if Dogwarts had anything to do with their wall burning- Scott wasn’t sure if he was proud of or angry at Jimmy’s recklessness. There was one thing Scott knew for certain- he would never be able to erase the memories of Jimmy’s deaths from his mind, and everything he did was to make sure that Jimmy would survive. And himself too, of course, but Jimmy was the one with no lives left.

“Scott?” a voice asked, causing his eyes to snap open. He looked over to see Jimmy stepping through the nether portal. He looked a little shy, and Scott smiled in spite of himself at his husband being in his “lost puppy” mode.

“I’m just working on some potions. Y’know, for future encounters. What’s up?” Scott asked. Jimmy fidgeted for a moment or two, not quite meeting Scott’s gaze.

“Just wanted to check in on you, after uh… everything,” he asked sheepishly, finally looking up at Scott’s eyes.

“Could be better, could be worse. There were a couple of close calls, but that’s why I’m working on potions,” he replied with a shrug. Jimmy’s brow knit in concern, and he reached out to Scott for half a moment, but quickly dropped his hands with a frown.

“It was too close today,” Jimmy muttered under his breath. Scott huffed out a laugh, shaking his head.

“It was, you’re on your last life- you’ve gotta be more careful,” he reprimanded. Jimmy’s sheepish gaze snapped defiantly to Scott’s, and he jumped a bit in surprise at the fire in his husband’s eyes.

“I was talking about you! Martyn’s arrows nearly took you out!” Jimmy shouted, hands gesturing wildly.

“Jimmy, my armor’s better than yours, and I have all my lives left. I would have been fine- you wouldn’t have,” Scott said, a little taken aback at Jimmy’s sudden ferocity.

“Just because you have all your lives doesn’t mean you can throw them away, Scott!” Jimmy protested. Scott gave Jimmy an incredulous look.

“I’m not throwing my lives away, Jimmy. I have good gear, I negotiate and build alliances with other factions, I’m making potions- if anyone’s throwing away their lives around here, it’s you!” Scott shot back, voice coming out more frustrated than he meant it to. A hurt expression crossed Jimmy’s face, and part of Scott wanted to take back what he said, but most of him didn’t regret it at all. Didn’t Jimmy understand what was at stake here? Scott tried his best to look out for him, but each and every time he rushed forward into things he shouldn’t have.

“Scott, I know I’ve messed up. You don’t need to keep reminding me. But I can’t just stay put and do nothing like you!” Jimmy shouted.

“What do you mean, doing nothing?! I’m trying to build up our defences-”

“Going on the offensive is the only thing Dogwarts will understand-”

“I’m just trying to protect you!” both Scott and Jimmy exclaimed at the same time. Both of them blinked in surprise, and all at once things started clicking into place.

“Scott, I’m no strategist like you. I’m not even as good in combat. But I’m on red- I’m the fighter here. So let me fight for you,” Jimmy said softly. Scott made a sound that was half laugh, half scoff.

“Jimmy-”

“I can’t stand the thought of letting you die, Scott,” Jimmy said, refusing to meet his gaze. A bittersweet smile came to Scott’s face, and he took a step closer to Jimmy, tilting his head to try and meet Jimmy’s eyes.

“Jimmy, I’ve seen you die twice. Don’t you think that I can’t stand the thought of letting you die either?” Scott asked. Jimmy finally looked up at Scott, eyes watering. Scott let out a fond little scoff, reaching out to wipe at Jimmy’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Jimmy said wetly. Scott didn’t answer at first, instead reaching out to pull Jimmy into a hug.

“Don’t be. And don’t cry you idiot, you’ll just disintegrate faster,” Scott teased fondly, relieved when Jimmy let out a laugh in response. Jimmy pulled away, wiping at his eyes and smiling. Scott couldn’t help but smile back, happy to see his husband in a marginally better mood.

“We’ll be okay, right Scott?” Jimmy asked, still soft and as timid as before. 

“I’m working on potions, we’ve got allies, and we’ve got each other. We’ll be alright,” Scott said, voice soft but no less determined. Jimmy gave his usual dazzling smile, filling Scott with warmth and light at the sight of it.

-

It was dark when Scott made his way down the hill from Jimmy’s grave. He wasn’t even there when Jimmy had died, he had told Jimmy that they would be alright and they both weren’t. Scott was on yellow now, the gleam in his eyes and the gold shimmering in his hair making that absolutely certain. Scott’s preparedness hadn’t even saved either of them! His potions certainly didn’t do much good as Scott died early on in the battle. Maybe he and Jimmy shouldn’t have allied with anyone. Maybe they should have stayed within their walls and retired, like Scott wanted to. Maybe Jimmy would be alive now. But there was no use dwelling on the “what-ifs”- all Scott had was the now. And the now was crushingly lonely and dim.

Scott jumped at the cackle of a witch, narrowly avoiding a thrown potion. He drew his sword and cut her down without a second thought. She poofed into ash, leaving Scott to stumble forward into the dirt. He drove his sword into the ground with a cry of rage and sorrow.

“I can’t even mourn?!” he cried, shouting at the universe for what he had lost and what he had endured. Scott wasn’t sure how long he had knelt there in the grass, a white-knuckled grip on the hilt of his sword and a hand over his mouth to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape. It wasn’t until the growls and skittering of other mobs approaching that Scott finally picked himself up, yanking his sword from the ground and feet moving on autopilot. 

He soon stumbled through the nether portal to the cave behind it, shaking hands reaching for a book tucked away on one of the shelves. He opened it carefully despite his trembling hands, not wanting to damage what was inside. Between the pages laid a collection of pressed flowers, one of them being the poppy that Jimmy had given him when they first met. Scott finally allowed himself to crumble, falling to the floor and sobbing with the book of pressed flowers cradled in his arms.

“Scott?” a voice asked. His head snapped up and he looked to the cave entrance, heart skipping a beat at a flash of blond and red- but then saw the brightly colored wings and deflated at the realization that it was just Grian. Scott quickly wiped at his eyes, gently closing the book before holding it tight against his chest and standing up.

“Um. Hi,” Scott said, unsure of what to say. Grian didn’t look like he knew what to say either, feathers rustling slightly before he cleared his throat.

“I just wanted to uh. Check in on you,” Grian said. Scott let out a shaky sigh. How many times had Jimmy come in, asking the same thing? Checking in on Scott, making sure he wasn’t overworking himself- sometimes checking in on him wasn’t even for Scott’s own benefit. Jimmy would need reassurance, and Scott would joke and tease to cheer him up. What Scott wouldn’t give to hear Jimmy’s laugh one last time.

“I think you can see how well I’m doing,” Scott said, tone coming off a bit more brusquely than he meant it to. Scott winced as soon as the words escaped his mouth. Grian didn’t deserve to have his grief taken out on him, but frankly Scott wasn’t sure how else he was supposed to respond to that. His friend’s expression twisted in sympathy.

“Sorry. We did avenge him, at least,” Grian said softly. Scott let out a humorless laugh.

“Yeah. I just thought I’d feel some sort of satisfaction from it, or that it would make losing Jimmy hurt less,” Scott replied, voice as hollow as he felt. Silence hung between them for a few moments, before Grian stepped a bit closer. He cautiously reached out to put a hand on Scott’s shoulder, and Scott peered up slightly at the touch.

“It probably won’t help much, in fact not at all, but what if we put a stop to Dogwarts? For all the things we’ve lost- and for Jimmy,” Grian offered. A small, weak smile crept onto Scott’s face. He wouldn’t let Jimmy’s death be in vain- he believed in a world without Dogwarts, a world where he and Scott could live out their days in peace. And even if Jimmy wasn’t able to live it with him, Scott knew that Jimmy would want him to move forward, to the life they had wanted.

“For Jimmy,” Scott said, warmth in his tone for the first time since Jimmy had died. For a brief moment, he thought he felt a hand ghost across his, paired with a reassuring touch on his back and a breath at his ear. The moment was there and gone, and Scott desperately wanted to curl his fingers around familiar ones he swore he had just felt- but it left Scott’s smile a bit brighter all the same.

-

MCYT Taglist (ask to be added/removed!): @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @space-ace123

[prionguy-old]

hello enderwalk arg people

so i saw a cool thread from @/ranbeans on twitter and it inspired me. so naturally i spent five hours straight analyzing ranboo’s lore playlist

basically i think it’s a timeline of c!ranboo’s life, and it fits kind of eerily

everything’s below the cut (and it’s a lot) :]

prologue from starkid 

 - more clock references. it’s literally just an instrumental of a clock ticking

 - instantly you think of the ender text in that pic he tweeted. like that, this could relate to dream’s clock, or foolish’s clock (reading 10:33 always iirc) 

 - note that butler in tales from the smp: masquerade kept staring at a clock

 - it could also mean a theme of running out of time, or fighting with time

 - in the thread i linked, the person also points out that there are 23 clock ticks in prologue, and angel number 23 means that you are meant to be a servant

 - this would be his beginning

introduction to the snow by miracle musical

 - the first of many songs from the hawaii: part ii album on this playlist

 - i’ve seen that album described as an arg and i find it funny if ranboo just went no. my arg now 

 - introduction to the snow only has one verse, and the rest is instrumental

 - the whole hawaii album has themes of loneliness and death, especially loneliness for this song

 - it talks about feeling isolated, which gives hints about his childhood maybe?

 - the “you’ll live forever tonight” lyric also gives off a hopeful vibe, like that of a child

dream sweet in sea major by miracle musical

 - starts with a changed reprise of introduction to the snow

 - "Rather than trying to “live forever”, it seems that the time has come for something else" from the analysis of the first part in genius

 - odd because this song is meant as a finale to the album, but it's towards the beginning of the playlist (could mean that there was almost an ending of sorts early on for c!ranboo, like a near death experience?)

turn the lights off by tally hall

 - okay this one confused me when i was first going through, but when the timeline started coming together it made more sense

 - about adolescence, and being uncomfortable with growing up, so it fits with the timeline playlist theory 

 - also about phobias and stuff like that in a way?? hm

the mind electric by miracle musical

 - the song starts out in reverse, then plays the stuff from the beginning normally

 - feels like a rls honestly i wish he could use this song

 - it's about someone put in an infirmary and condemned to electroshock therapy because they're insane. fun

 - this is where the timeline started to come together in a way. as soon as i saw the mood get darker i remembered ranboo’s line from the festival i think? “don’t let it happen again” or something like that

 - because of this, if the timeline theory is true, at some point before he joined the dream smp he did something which caused him to be condemned

 - also this

 - the mind electric isn’t the only song where the narrator glorifies themself in a way, we’ll get into this later

 - also the rejecting fanatical views,, i am thinking about that theory that endermen are servants to the ender dragon. if c!ranboo rejected that, the consequences could have been awful

live and let die by paul mccartney

 - if i wasn’t sold on the timeline theory before, i am now. after the mind electric, the mood changes drastically in terms of ideology and theme

 - this specifically made me say “holy shit” because like. that verse means that when you’re young, you’re open minded and say “live and let live” which resembles the optimistic but lonely attitude of the beginning of the playlist

 - but then when the world fucks you over, you begin to say “live and let die.”

 - “live and let die” i take to mean as him no longer caring about the people around him. how before, he wanted to help others, but then the mind electric happened, and he just. stopped caring

 - fun right!! /s

ruler of everything by tally hall

 - there are so many clock and time references in this. we get it

 - "mechanical hands" when it says “mechanical hands are the ruler of everything” refer to hands on a clock, saying how time rules over everything

 - the narrator is talking back and forth with time itself in this, which is interesting because i believe he joins the dream smp in the next song

 - the narrator appears very insecure and looking for a quick way to appeal to everyone (like how c!ranboo at the beginning was trying to be everyone's friend)

 - this is the second song with the narrator glorifying themself out of insecurity. what are you trying to tell us about your character buddy

 - also we can’t ignore this shit

 -  i don’t need to explain why this scared me right. right

merry go round of life from howl’s moving castle

 - this is a change huh

 - god i haven’t seen this movie in years, but i saw looking it up that it plays at the beginning introducing the main character, sophie

 - this is before everything changed for her

 - maybe this is when he joins dream smp? and ruler of everything is him talking to dream prior?

 - or maybe im reaching who the fuck knows

 - but him joining dream smp to this song would make sense. it feels like a clean slate and starting over, which would match with how he doesn’t. y’know. remember things

 - which begs the question: if ranboo forgot everything from before this song in the timeline, and after that i’m assuming his memory issues started,, what happened to cause this?

 - i’d say the mind electric could have caused this, but it was awhile back in the playlist. so whoever he’s talking to in ruler of everything, which could very well be dream, i believe messed with his memory somehow.

killer queen by queen

 - c!ranboo girlboss arc canon??

 - i got lost here ngl. it has a very specific vibe that doesn’t match well with what i know of c!ranboo im sorry

 - but two songs later, i get a hint kind of which makes me believe this could be him burning george’s house with tommy

 - also this song is a banger and i’m pretty sure he put it on there to scare the crown arg people because of the “baroness” line /j

mr. bad guy by freddie mercury

 - literally just more funky villain vibes. i love this

 - no more angst only girlboss

 - since cc!ranboo has said he doesn't want to do a villain arc, i take this to maybe be how he sees himself?? credit to the crown arg discord for that idea they’re smart and cool

 - if that is true, i’d say this would be another song for the “glorifying oneself out of insecurity” list because the narrator is like. seeing himself as cool and The Bad Guy, even if he might not be

 - possibly the butcher army if the next song is what i think it is

ain’t no rest for the wicked by cage the elephant

 - i have been informed someone saw ranboo listening to and grabbing songs for this off of a playlist called "my villain arc" king i hate you /lh

 - in seriousness: the song is about how the world forces people into wicked roles for money. i am getting live and let die vibes, like how both blame the world for making them not care/do bad things

 - c!ranboo take responsibility for your actions challenge /j

 - this definitely reminds me of how when he gave techno his armor, he blamed it on peer pressure. if this aligns with that event, the last two would be burning george’s house and butcher army i think

i can’t decide by the scissor sisters

 - this is probably about enderwalk

 - i really hope it's about enderwalk

 - did mr ranboo commit murder?? manslaughter?? sir

 - i really feel like this is enderwalk or ive forgotten something

stardust crusaders from jjba 

 - thank god for jjba fans, i know nothing about this

 - apparently this is the main theme for jotaro, who's power i think?? is like moving faster than time

 - and his main villain thing is dio, who's power is stopping the flow of time

 - and we're back with the fuckin time references

 - this is pure speculation at this point, but maybe it’s like. him fighting against time in a way, which would draw back to ruler of everything

a mask of my own face by lemon demon

 - the song is about not wanting to take responsibility for their actions again

 - c!ranboo i am begging

 -  specifically this lyric

 - also this lyric draws back to the bidding, in which the singer wanted to be enough for someone and showed almost narcissism as a sort of "mask"

 - also just. mask can be correlated with dream or the masquerade, where the butler stared at the clocks

stranded lullaby by miracle musical

 - been awhile since we had a hawaii album song huh

 - and,, a memory reference.

 - that lyric is talking about forgetting things

 - the rest of the song is,, im not saying time traveler ranboo but time traveler ranboo (look at this post about that theory by my friend pspspspsp)

 - he's talking to a "you" this whole time, and i have no idea who it is lmao

 - there are mentions of dreams and stuff throughout, so i almost want to associate it with the prison visit, but then i think the next song is after the festival so i guess not?

 - might also be him losing the memory book

hidden in the sand by tally hall

 - this is, lyrics wise, a song about a man whose girlfriend left him for someone else and he's upset

 - but if you look at the music video, it shows a cruise ship, on which people are friendly with each other at first, but when it starts to sink, they turn on each other trying to escape

 - i am feeling a connection to c!ranboo's views on "choose people not sides" somehow

 - i feel like he's called people selfish in lore, but my friends and i are all ranboo kinnies so we cant fuckin remember. if he has, then yeaH this definitely correlates

now i’m here by queen

 - there's a very optimistic and nostalgic tone to this

 - this one’s barely annotated on genius so i don’t have a lot for it, but i feel like it's after the dream voice disappeared or something? timeline's gettin a little funky

 - it could also be right before the festival, as he used optimism as a shield there

& by tally hall

 - this. yeah. & deals with opposites, especially good and evil. the singer talks about how everyone sees the world from their own perspective and doesn't look from another

 - and that definitely ties back to how ranboo wanted l’manburg people, like tubbo, to see from techno’s perspective

 - i feel like this is right after the festival. it resembles a lot of ranboo's speech from then, where he basically told everyone “sides dumb. just vibe”

 - and then the outro changes tone, almost like a warning?? which. yeah. a warning to choose people not sides before doomsday, or else they won’t be able to stop l’manburg from being blown up

i’m gonna win by rob cantor

 - this song is about someone fighting their inner demons

 - sounds familiar!! looks directly at dream voice

 - specifically, the singer is optimistic about winning their fight with the inner demons

 - it seems kind of chilling to me though, but it's also late at night when i’m doing these notes so it may just be me

 - if the timeline theory is true, this is where c!ranboo is mentally atm, which tracks honestly

=), an unplayable track

 - ranboo why do you hate us

tl;dr: ranboo’s songs that he would use for lore playlist might very well be a timeline of c!ranboo’s life, from even before dream smp and that’d be super cool

if you read all the way through this just know i would die for you

anyways feel free to drop your interpretations of the songs in the notes :0

[rbbalmung]

Pokemon SwSh GPL AU: Get to know ______ P3

It’s time for THE BOYS. My biggest conclusion from putting this together is that while Raihan enjoys pushing everyone else’s buttons, Leon is the only person that can fluster the hell out of him. Please enjoy. 

Get to Know: Leon x Raihan (TrueRivalShipping)

1: Who spends almost all their money on the other? Leon. He feels like the type of person whose love language is gift giving (ex. giving Hop Wooloo and Grookey, giving Gloria Scorbunny, Yamper, and Charmander, ect.). That being said, he’s terrible at getting gifts. He can tell exactly what type of Pokemon a person would want and catch it, but presents? He once got Raihan a charmander watch made for kids without even considering it wouldn’t fit him. 

2: Who sleeps in the other’s lap? Leon. They’re both tall, but Lee’s the smaller of the two. 

3: Who walks around the house half-naked and who yells at them to put on some clothes? Raihan would definitely strut around just to get a reaction out of Leon. Half the time his intentions are to get him into bed, but the other half? Embarrass Leon when he’s on Rotom calls with his mum (don’t worry, he wears pants for those instances). 

4: Which one tells the other not to stay up all night and which one stays up all night anyway? They’re both night owls. They stay up either playing video games or watching Netflix (or whatever the pokemon equivalent to that is). They had to invest in a bigger couch due to how often they have passed out on it. (When I say bigger couch, I definitely mean a futon. They just straight up by the closest thing they can to another bed). 

5: Which one tries to make food for the other but burns it all by accident and which one tells them that it’s okay and makes them both cookies? Hop inherited their mum’s cooking skills. Since Leon spent most of his young adult life as a champion who never really had time to stay at home and cook a real meal, it is up to Raihan to provide. Lee was permanently designated to cleanup duty after nearly burning the apartment down. 

6: Which one reads OTP prompts and says “Oh that’s us!” and which one goes “Eh, not really”? Leon would say,” Oh, that’s us!” and Raihan would say,” Eh, not really?” just to spite him. There is a lot of teasing and playful banter in their relationship. 

7: Which one constantly wears the other’s clothes? Raihan, but only because he would literally murder Leon if he borrowed one of his designer sweatshirts. There’s also the added benefit that Lee’s clothes are a lot comfier. 

8: Which one spends all day running errands and which one says “You remembered [thing], right?” Leon isn’t allowed to run errands by himself because he’d get lost, so Raihan is usually the grocery-getter. Raihan will be in the checkout line and almost always get a last minute text from Leon asking for one more item. It drives Raihan bonkers. 

9: Which one drives the car and which one gives them directions? Leon is the driver, and Raihan is the “direction giver” (let’s be real, he’s more focused on what song they play next than getting them to their destination). If it’s a group road trip, neither of them are allowed in the front because they’ll just end up getting everyone lost. 

10: Which one does the posing while the other one draws? Ok, so I don’t really think one of them would draw the other. They’re much more of an “active, sporty couple” than an “artsy couple”. That doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened, though. During one of their dates, they decided to doodle each other on their napkins to help pass the time. They were both terrible and it got really heated when the waitress chose Leon’s drawing as “slightly less worse”.  

11: If they were about to rob a museum, which one does backflips through lasers and which one is strolling behind with a bag of chips? Are you kidding? They’d both try to out-do each other. Both backflippers. 

12: Which one of your OTP overdoes it on the alcohol and which one makes the other stop drinking? I feel like even though Leon has more body mass than Raihan, he’d be the lightweight of the two. Both have been in the League since they were in their late teens, but Leon’s public image had a lot more specifications than Raihan’s. That meant Raihan got to go to a lot more college parties on his nights off and build up his tolerance. Leon’s public relations manager didn’t let him even look at alcohol until he stepped down as champion. He had to “set a good example for his young fans”. (Sufficed to say, Gloria quickly got a new PR manager when she filled his role). 

14: Which one keeps accidentally using the other’s last name instead of their own? Raihan learned that if he used Leon’s last name, he could get special treatment. It’s an abuse of power! Especially when they’re having dinner at the Hoffman house and Raihan casually slips in that he’s planning on taking Lee’s last name once they marry. Leon’s convinced his grandparents like Raihan better than they like him at this point.  

15: Which one screams about the spider and which one brings the spider outside? Raihan, though he’ll go to an early grave before admitting that. He just doesn’t want them getting webbing on his new shoes! Yeah...that’s it. 

16: Which one gives the other their jacket? Leon. It was mentioned above, but Raihan has to be in a really good mood in order to let Leon borrow his stuff. It isn’t that big of a deal, thankfully: The Hoffman boys are like personal heaters.  

17: Who keeps getting threatened by the other’s overprotective older sibling? Ok, ok, ok: Raihan is slightly intimidated by Hop. He just wants the best for his big bro! If that means calling Raihan out of his shit from time to time to keep him in line, so be it. Raihan can’t fight back either, because that’s his boyfriend’s little brother! One of the only things Leon gets testy over is people bullying Hop, so Raihan has to do it when he isn’t around. 

18: Who’s the first one to admit they have feelings for the other? Leon. It wasn’t one of those things where they’ve always liked each other, but after being friends for so long, their feelings blossomed into something new. Lee is a big flirt and never officially came out, so Raihan just figured he didn’t mean it whenever he complimented him. Leon literally confessed to Raihan at least five time before it sank in that he was serious. 

19: How good would your OTP be at parenting? I think they’d actually be pretty good! Leon helped raise Hop and he definitely has the dad act down, so adopting children would be something he’d be super interested in. Raihan may struggle a little bit at first (especially with where the line of what he could and couldn’t post on social media was), but he has a big heart. They would always be there for their kids. If Gloria and Hop are the cool parents, Leon and Raihan are the embarrassing ones. Would tease their kid lovingly. 

20: Which one types with perfect grammar and which one types using numbers as letters? Leon has sent a lot of professional texts because of his former position as champion, so he’d win by default. If they’re texting each other, it is all in numbers, emojis, and abbreviations. Sonia, Piers, and Nessa hate being in group chats with them. 

21: Who gets attacked by a bully and who protects them? Lee is the more protective of the two, especially when it comes to people bullying Raihan online. Raihan tries to tell him that he doesn't have to do it, but he’s secretly very flattered.  

22: Who makes the bad puns and who makes a pained smile every time the other makes a pun? Leon makes the worst dad jokes in the world. Sometimes he does it just to embarrass Raihan. 

23: Who comes home from work to see that the other one bought a puppy? They take turns. Raihan will catch a Hakamo-o to beat Lee’s Aegislash, only for Lee to catch an Azumarill from the Isle of Armor a week later. It’s a never ending game of trying to one up the other. 

24: Which one gives the other a piggyback ride when they’re tired? Leon. He’s pretty buff, so carrying Raihan around is nothing. He usually does it without asking if his boyfriend looks tired and flusters the heck out of him. 

25: Which one competes in some sort of activity and which one does the overzealous cheering? Ever since Leon left he league, he makes it a priority to go to every one of Raihan’s matches. He often dons ridiculous disguises in order to not get recognised, but he always gets recognised. There is an online forum just made up of pictures of him in different, weird attire. He might’ve even been able to slip by public notice if not for the fact that he tries to make AS MUCH NOISE AS POSSIBLE to cheer his boyfriend on.   

26: Who takes a selfie when the other one falls asleep on their shoulder? Is there even a possible different answer than Raihan? The man takes selfies as a living. You better believe he has 8 different folders of pictures of Leon. 

27: Which one would give the other a makeover if they asked? Raihan. Leon is so close to having style, but then he’ll throw on his signature snapback and a cape and ruin everything. You know the cape isn’t even a requirement for the champion to wear? Yeah, Lee just chose to wear it. He counts it as a small victory whenever Leon decides to buy something at one of Rai’s favourite stores.  

28: Which one owns a pet that the other is absolutely terrified of? Raihan tries not to get between Leon and Charizard. It’s a similar situation to the Hop one: Charizard is Lee’s baby, which means Raihan isn’t allowed to tease them.  

29: Which one holds the umbrella over both of them when it rains? Raihan, but he purposely will move the umbrella out from above Leon to get him soaked. It’s payback for all the other stuff he does. 

30: If your OTP went on vacation, where would they go and what would they do? Who would take the pictures? Like Gloria and Hop, I think they’d travel to all the regions. They’d have to do it on off seasons and couldn't stay long due to their duties in Galar, but they like seeing the new types of pokemon. Once again, Rai would take millions of pictures. He has a photo album per vacation, not just vacation in general.  

[fenristheorem]

My OC, Fenris

... and the Eldarya AU that she’s in, because I just can’t see her in the original Origins storyline with her differences from Guardienne/Erika. And I think my AU has some pretty interesting ideas. I’ll explain it after I introduce her.

Yea, I know, Fenris Theorem, Fenris, it all connects, huh? Hehe. I like the name, that’s all.

(This page is informational, so it’s written in a bit more of a note-taking fashion rather than a story fashion. It’s written in a very choppy manner but it’s comprehensible despite not having any stress on having it beautifully written.) 

This page just introduces you to my OC. I decided to create a page on her for the poll (now ended) because I think some people will really like small excerpts on her story with Lance, but obviously you need to know about her before deciding that for sure. You’ll notice that some theories I may have posted on Lance in the past are a part of this AU - these theories have been in my mind and I posted them only because I thought they could exist in the actual plotline (it’s where a lot of my theories come from, and then some ideas fit into the AU, and then some ideas could exist in the actual plotline as well based on what I observe), so this is where some of those theories come from.

For the poll - if anything, I would recommend reading the paragraph titled “*Her story in Origins (where many things are explained in moderation, because if I went in-depth I wouldn’t need to write stories on this):” above all else because that describes what I will be writing if the poll results shows that that’s wanted. Everything else is just extra information for you to know my OC and the AU better. The paragraph is at the bottom of the post.

Above all else, this is an AU, and a fantasy world. I like to try to give rationality and logic to a lot of things, so you’ll read a lot of me explaining things, but at the end of the day it’s all fantasy and can be perceived - and therefore approved or unapproved of - in a multitude of ways. If you like my AU but find it illogical in some ways, that’s no problem! Just enjoy reading about it if you enjoy the ideas within it. 😊

~ This is long so continue below the cut ~

A lot of this information can be a bit vague at first but it comes together when I explain the basic plot.

Her basics: She goes by Fenris but her actual name is Dakota. However, people usually call her Kota, or occasionally Ko (Fen is used later for Fenris, first by Ashkore / Lance, but later when she was discovered by the guard as well). She was 18 when she came to Eldarya via mushroom circle (like Guardienne/Erika). The guard test placed her in the Obsidian guard - she’s very happy with that outcome. Was in a relationship with Valkyon before leaving him for Lance (*explained later).

Physical Appearance: Unfortunately I don’t have a picture of her and nothing in Eldarya describes her and her clothing very well, so you’ll just need to imagine the physical features that I describe on Eldarya’s Guardienne sprite. Also, she’s pretty flexible with how she styles her hair and dresses, so I don’t think a single picture of her would describe her well.

Fair and light in skin tone, perhaps a slight tan-ish tone. Thin, but broad shouldered. She’s well-muscled (later on, less so when she first arrived), which gives her a bit of thickness, but not too much. Nicely curved. About 5 ft. 5 in. (167.64 cm). Dark hair, but not exactly black, with brown-hazel eyes. Her hair is medium-length and is usually braided in a multitude of styles. Her eyes occasionally glow a brilliant gold (explained under ‘abilities and genetics’ and ‘her story in Origins’).

Usually wears dark, ancient / tribal-like clothes (think Norse Vikings) with thin, form-fitting but strong armor around her forearms, lower legs (below the thigh starting from knees) and chest/midriff. She wears a good amount of red, blue, gold, silver or dark green clothing and accents with the black base for color. Usually nothing over-the-top, she likes to have her own unique style and express herself but doesn't like to draw unnecessary attention. Doesn't like most faux fur as it doesn't look nice in her opinion, but may wear some that she likes occasionally. Is more likely to wear real fur from hunted animals, but doesn't wear it too often. She wears a sword on her hip, and has a few semi-concealed daggers placed on her body (thigh, boot, torso) for quick use if needed.

Personality: She has a wide spectrum of how she acts depending on people, situations, what she knows, and her current mood. She's typically quite calm, and doesn't seek for trouble or drama, however, she does like to hear the recent news/gossip from around the guard; to stay updated on things, know what may effect her, try to think ahead and just for the sake of knowing. She's very curious and typically observes the situation around her, but in a very subtle way. Is a planner and likes to think ahead, and usually knows how to react to anything because of her observations and forward thinking. Around friends, she's very kind and welcoming. They can talk about anything to her and she'll keep her mouth shut - she has a good loyalty streak (but it does have a limit). However, she doesn't have any friends that are like family to her, but on the day she does find friends like that her loyalty will truly be endless. It's ride or die, and she'll always stand by their side. She has a major independent streak and can’t be around people for too long, otherwise she’ll crack and get a bit irritated more easily. She likes her alone time. In general, she's very cordial with people. Again, she doesn't like to cause unnecessary trouble or drama - she's had a rough past (discussed under ‘history’) and quickly shuts down anyone doing so in a professional but aggressive, don’t-argue-with-me sort of way. She can be harsh, cold and withholding - especially with people she genuinely dislikes - but doesn't like to act this way. On the note of people she dislikes- it's hard to get her to truly dislike someone, but it can be a bit easy as well. In general rule, as long as someone is conscious of the reality of the world around them and doesn't seek to cause issues, she's fine with them, but the instant someone starts continually spreading rumors that are clearly false, or acts (especially in a way that hurts others) solely in their selfish interests, or takes part in willful ignorance (purposely ignoring an issue that you know shouldn’t be ignored), she keeps note of that person and reminds herself to be wary of them in the future. They could be a source of trouble or misinformation that may need to be stopped, and she won’t be very forgiving. However, this is just a general rule, it doesn't always apply - remember she can change based on the situation and what she knows. She recognizes that sometimes people dislike things that are good for them, or like harmful things, and sometimes the villain is actually the hero, history and set rules are created by the winners and anyone against it is considered the villain, and sometimes you need to be cruel to be merciful. She's fully aware that sometimes the bad of life is good, and may defend that, but she's always sure to think long and hard about it before giving a decision like that. A lot of terrible things have happened to her, so she tries to avoid being a source of those terrible things for the world. She feels emotions very deeply and can be a bit impulsive, but fortunately she’s not typically hurt or gets others hurt due to her impulsivity. Again, she is very curious and observes things a lot, so she can usually get a good read on anything new she comes across and work from there, or she can use other information she knows and apply it to the situation. That being said, she won’t drag her friends or anyone else into her occasionally dangerous impulsive decisions. She’ll offer it if they’d like to join her, but she won’t pressure them. Their safety is their decision, and she’ll do her best to protect them although she can’t truly guarantee it. Being in the Obsidian guard, she can’t really condone anyone to risk their safety for fun, especially if it’s her idea. She has a good sense of responsibility when she works for what she believes in, and will sacrifice some of her comfort and fun making sure that she follows her responsibilities if needed. On the topic of her guard - when she first came to Eldarya and joined the Obsidian guard, she wasn’t too bad of a fighter upon basic training, but it was when she started training with Ashkore / Lance where her skills greatly improved until she was perhaps the best fighter in the guard, rivaled only by a few other warriors - including Valkyon. She’s not against helping others improve, but she’s very careful with what she tells the guard - if anyone knew her skills were due to Ashkore, she’d be in massive trouble and may be treated as a complete accomplice. She doesn’t like to lie unless truly necessary, so she’ll usually withhold lots of damning information, and she thoroughly thinks over everything she says, any possible answers to theoretical questions, how her words can connect with other things, and how it might be taken from someone else’s perspective, before revealing any information. Did I mention she’s very cunning and smart, especially after knowing Lance? She has prior knowledge in how to utilize sarcasm and wit, but that’s also improved after meeting Lance. 

She changes in time to be quite a bit more harsh and unforgiving when she starts working with Lance.

(For media reference, think of Lagertha from Vikings and Octavia from Netflix’s The 100. She’s a bit of a combination between the two, both in personality and appearance, although Octavia represents her a bit better in appearance.)

Abilities and Genetics: When she first came to Eldarya, she had no idea of her faery genetics. She never felt as though she belonged with humans and always felt that something was off, but she truly thought she was human genetically - until the guard had her take a test and realized she apparently had some faery blood in her (like what actually happened in the original plotline). She went a good while not knowing about what her genetics were, until Lance told her she was a dragon. She learned her abilities under his mentorship, and found that - to be more specific - she’s a shadow dragon. Her shadows appear usually like a pitch black fog, but can be manipulated into almost any form; hard or soft, thin or thick, curved or straight. It has a bit of a cold feel, but she can’t actually control the temperature of her shadows. She can adjust the color of her shadows along a grey-scale until it looks like any grey or silver, even looking like normal fog, but she can’t make it lighter than silver. She can also make pre-existing shadows darker or lighter depending on what she wants. Being a dragon, she also has a dragon form and can shift into a half-transformed body (like what’s seen with Tia). She has premonitions and prophecies as well. This ability typically manifests in dreams and can come to her the night before it manifests in reality, or even sometimes years in advance - there’s really no way to know. She struggles a lot trying to learn this - and to learn the difference between a premonition dream and just a normal dream - and has some basic understanding of it’s rules. She has absolutely no control over when she has these dreams, but she can occasionally put herself in a bit of a calm, meditative state where she can observe her surroundings enough to faintly feel energies, and from there she can receive some premonitions. When she receives premonitions or prophecies while awake, her eyes glow a brilliant gold - this stems from a more spiritual side of her genetics (*explained later). This ability to very hard to control, though, and can rarely be done despite her persistence in it. 

History: She... didn’t have a very peaceful life. Since her birth, her parents had basically been at war with each other. She grew up under a distinct combination of good influences and bad influences from both parents, but for the most part her mother was her major support as her father failed to be there for her. Neither extended family had much impact, but her father’s family knew of the terrible things he did and didn’t do anything. She continues to hold a grudge against many humans for being forced to live an endangered upbringing when she and her mother were so clearly crying for help. However, she’s aware that this is also what drives her some days, as she didn’t live through all of that just to die shamefully with an unlived life. In time, her grudge against humans has calmed, but it flares back up whenever she’s reminded or learned about something terrible that humans have caused or do currently - it’s a continuous battle and she has a hard time giving an honest opinion on humanity due to her complex emotions. She came to Eldarya when she was 18 (like Guardienne/Erika) and the rest is history (*and is explained below).

Relationships: Miiko is... alright. It’s a bit of a love hate relationship sometimes, but Fenris is usually quite cordial with her. Nevra and Ezarel were irritating at first, but Nevra’s lovableness and Ezarel’s humor slowly grew on her. She liked Valkyon when she first arrived and somewhat quickly pursued a relationship with him. She didn’t mind Leiftan - he was always very kind and left her alone while being cordial (remember, she’s not an angel in this so Leiftan wouldn’t be into her like how he was with Guardienne/Erika). Karuto is like the good father she never had, but she puts her foot down with him on occasion - she doesn’t like to be told what to do, scolded, treated like a child or anything. This is only because she views him in a bit of a fatherly way, and doesn’t want a repeat of her original father. She makes sure he knows that she truly appreciates him, though. Jamon is a bit of a brother if anything, but he’s really just a close friend / colleague that she likes a lot. She appreciates his gentleness and protectiveness for everyone. Ewelein is basically a second mom, she reminds Fenris a lot of her mom back on Earth and has a deep respect for the Elf. Chrome is a bit like an irritating little brother, but she also has a sisterly affection for him. Ykhar and Kero are the panic colleagues; she has a hard time seeing them doing anything else than panicking. She worries a bit for their health as long-term stress is destructive and tries to be as comforting and as nice as possible with them without betraying her personality and morals. Karenn and Alajea are close friends, almost sisterly, but not exactly so. She’s a bit closer with Karenn than she is with Alajea. Cameria is similar to Karenn in the way that she has a bit of a sisterly relationship with Fenris, but in more of a battle partner way. They have a tendency to train together a lot, and they heavily trust each other to have their back in war. Huang Hua is a bit of a friend / leader - she respects the phoenix a lot and has a bit of a close friendly relationship with her. Feng Zifu is a bit of a father figure in the manner that she respects him a lot. She likes to listen to his advice and appreciates his formality.

The AU: So before I explain the plot of the AU, I need to explain a few basics of how I set up the world. In this AU, the crystal breaking could destroy Eldarya, but if it’s shattered in a certain way with certain spells and chants, it’ll release the spirits of the dragons (who sacrificed to create the crystal) and allow them to retain a sort of half-living form - basically they’re alive but... not? It’s weird to  explain. Why does the crystal breaking in this way not destroy Eldarya? The sacrifice allowed a release of energy that originally created the world and then primarily manifested into the shape of the crystal that maintains that world, so this ritual that would be preformed upon it’s shattering would basically allow the energy of the dragons to maintain the world while allowing them to roam around in a different form - hence why they’d be half alive in a way. They’d be physical, but they have additions and limits on what they can and can’t do because they’re still technically dead. However, this isn’t common knowledge (because the guard protects the crystal, they’re the ‘only’ source of ‘accurate’ information on the crystal and both Yonuki Kaze and Miiko have stated that if the crystal breaks Eldarya will fall), only Lance has figured this out (and many of his mercenaries believe him or are working with him because of his destructive habits), so due to this, his ambitions are sort of split in two; destroy the crystal to revive the dragons, and destroy anyone who may try to stop him. In terms of history, Lance in this AU witnessed Miiko (and Nevra - there’s a history behind that that I won’t go into right now) sacrificing dragons to the crystal when he was a part of the guard to try and maintain balance and confronted her about it, only for her to threaten him (in basic; she was convinced sacrificing was the only way to keep balance, and that’s because Yonuki Kaze influenced her into thinking that, so from her perspective Lance coming along and saying it was wrong and had to stop was basically him saying to let the world die) to not tell anyone and stay out of it. Lance then spent a while researching and devising an idea on how to actually balance the world and this included destroying the crystal in a specific way to release the energy (technically there are two ways; the sacrifice was supposed to happen with dragons AND angels, so the ritual was devised to work with the two, but a ritual originally for two races used only with one is basically a ritual preformed improperly, and therefore bound to yield improper results - hence the infertility of the world and shiftiness of it. Undoing the ritual would allow the world to stay while “canceling out the sacrificial imbalance”, but if an angel or demon were to willingly sacrifice - preferably alongside a dragon at the same time - then it would be solved in that way as well). Lance tried to explain this to Miiko later, only to barely get past “I have another idea” before being shut down again. He kept quiet because he feared for himself and his brother (and the only reason Lance could have known that dragons were being sacrificed - without being a dragon himself - is that Miiko said it during the sacrifice he saw, so he didn’t want to raise suspicion onto him and his brother). Later on, Lance is sent to lead an army in a foreign land and is nearly killed, but he saw a chance to escape the guard and took it. From there he’s been Ashkore.

Basically this AU - instead of being “oh no, he’s trying to destroy the world because he’s angry and hurt” - is actually more like “if you had listened the world could be stabilized and also a powerful race could be revived.” It takes the trope of hero and villain and twists it, so the villain is actually a bit of an underdog, villainous hero while the hero’s are - in a way - villains who are heroes because their damning stories haven’t been revealed in a wide-spread manner. Overall, it’s supposed to blur the lines of good and bad, and right and wrong - showing that both sides have good and bad within them, and which side is ‘good’ can depend solely on perception and one’s life anecdote.

*Her story in Origins (where many things are explained in moderation, because if I went in-depth I wouldn’t need to write stories on this): Dakota came to Eldarya by accident via mushroom circle and was placed into the Obsidian guard. She adjusted in time (and willingly took the potion in episode 13 to ease her family / mother of pain and worry) until she got used to things and entered into a romantic relationship with Valkyon. She was sent on basic missions and such and met Ashkore a few times in war (and around the guard), and then she met him accidentally while alone later on outside of the guard. He offered to train her (more like threatened if she didn’t?) and she accepted in time. They trained at night, which was a bit of an issue as she now shared a room with Valkyon and, therefore, had to sneak around. Her skills quickly improved, and her relationship with Valkyon began to decline as he began to become a bit confused / suspicious about her sudden and seemingly random upturn in skills. There were feelings of neglect as well. This carried on for many months and Dakota learned more about Ashkore as well as herself. He eventually admits that she’s a dragon and that he’s investing some of himself into her because of that, and she does her best to explore her abilities with him after that. Eventually she accidentally discovers his actual identity, but keeps quiet about it. As they grow closer, she begins to ask more about him and his reasoning, and he explains his motives for going after the crystal while brushing on the topic of why he’s ruthless to some, but leaves others alone. As she discovers the truth about the dragons and Lance, she realizes that her feelings to the guard were based on lies and false implications, and she begins to grow mentally and emotionally closer with Lance. She becomes less empathetic / sympathetic with Valkyon and eventually sleeps with Lance. This happens a few more times and they enter a sort of limbo where they don’t talk about their relationship with each other but know there’s something heavy going on. Back in the guard, she’s still with Valkyon, and she begins an internal war on what exactly her plan is knowing that she’s sleeping with two guys on the opposite side of a war and that it can’t continue. Her and Valkyon break up in time and she invests her full time into training with Lance, expressing interest in joining his cause. They begin to work together and he gifts her with a specific outfit / armor (that can alternate between identity concealing and revealing for her comfort and safety) so she can go on missions with him. They develop an elaborate scheme to allow her to go on long-term missions with him without suspicion from the guard. She’s eventually sent on a mission and it’s on that mission that she discovers her relation to an ancient dragon named Fenris, and then expresses her interest in taking that name to Lance and the rest of his allies that she’s met (from then on she’s known as Fenris with Lance and Dakota in the guard). Back at the guard, she continues training with Lance and maintaining some sort of odd relationship with himin secret. She’s found elaborate ways to get out of the guard without their suspicion so she can spend many days at a time alone with Lance in a cabin he has hidden in the forest. Over the span of many months / years, she goes on missions with the guard to foreign towns / establishments that are attacked by Ashkore - whether she knows that prior or not - so as she trains she also has actual encounters where she needs to truly fight Lance without actually hurting him while looking as though she’s truly trying to hurt him. When she’s allegedly away on some missions from the guard, she wears the armor that Lance gave her to campaign with him and this occasionally leads to her fighting against the guard if they’re around. In this time and when they’re alone, Lance and allies calls her Fenris as she’s requested them to do. Eventually they go to Memoria together and find out that they have a deeper connection than they think - Fenris (who was an ancient dragon that Dakota took the name of due to her relation with him) and Tia actually knew each other and had a complex history that carried forward to Lance and Dakota / Fenris, and there’s a prophecy of sorts surrounding them. Their relationship after that is still complex, but is more stable as they confirm an attachment to each other. Lance’s identity is eventually revealed to the guard, and sometimes later Fenris is revealed as well, and Lance - in very short, important seconds - offers her to join him completely outside the guard’s walls. She accepts and they flee the guard for a while and plot. Eventually they attack the guard in a final push and get to the crystal, successfully breaking it with... some losses. From there is the skip to ANE, but New Era is... complicated. I haven’t yet thought how she fits into ANE, as many things would be different. Maybe I won’t put pressure on creating her story in it, but if I do I might list it here. Her story in ANE would need to be based off of her story I have here in Origins.

If I write excerpts of this, there may also be many more adventure scenarios that are written but aren’t mentioned here (Lance offering to “help” the guard bring down another greater threat and then turning his forces on them in the midst of war for his own gain, sending them on a wild goose chase, the guard tracking them through rough, unforgiving landscapes trying to catch them, etc.) depending on how the details of her story manifest.

I apologize; that’s a lot to read but I can be very specific and this AU has a lot of important detail that separates it from the original Origins storyline. And this talks over my OC’s details and an AU, which is a lot since there’s not a lot of referencing because I’ve never talked about either before... However, if you’ve read all the way through this post - congrats, and I hope you’re interested in it!

Again, writing excerpts about my OC and her storyline in this AU is an option you can vote on in my writing poll that determines what I’ll write now so I can post later when I can’t access my Tumblr for a few weeks, so if you’re interested in reading about this then please read the info I have about the poll here and feel free to vote!

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Cosmic love, parts 6-10

Summary: Saved by Jasper, Aurora trusts him to take her to safety during the storm, not realizing she would soon meet his entire family. Things get complicated when Paul comes looking for her, starting an altercation which reveals their secrets before an unsuspecting Aurora.  Warnings: Sexual references, drinking, depression, anxiety, angst, fluff, swearing, blood, an attack

                                               - Masterlist -

Part 6: What if this storm ends

"You can't buy me!" Aurora throws a glass his way, her nostrils flared and her eyes fixed on his, disappointment glistening in them as he ducks just in time.

"Why not? What makes you so special?" He snarls, slamming his fist on the table beside him and she swallows thickly, holding her breath not to flinch at his angry outburst. She knows better than to let him or anyone else see weakness.

"Don't try me, you devil." Her voice is calm and even, unlike her thunderous heart that's struggling to keep up with the adrenaline pumping through the coronary arteries supplying it. "Don't forget I know your secrets and I am not afraid to tell the authorities."

Smirking, she winks smugly before turning her back on the man known as the kind of a man you never leave.

"You will regret this. I promise you, Vanderbilt. Daddy won't always be there to protect you."

Gasping, I feel the cold surrounding me. My body is numb, freezing. Coughing up water, I turn my head to the side and find a helping hand pulling my hair back and another running alongside my spine, attempting to soothe my initial panic.

"Shhh", I hear the whisper, "You're going to be alright", the voice says and it's hard not to recognize it as a man's voice.

The tone truly does soothe me, or perhaps it's the icy touch rubbing my back, but I am calm, more than I should be considering I've almost died and ended up in hell. There's no other explanation for it, or that man wouldn't have been in my final thoughts. I was going to hell and he would be the devil there as well.

The man is grimacing, his hand gently tucking a strand of my hair behind me ear and my vision clears, if only for a moment. He is so blond. His hair brings memories of golden wheat fields I ran through as a child, of those many hued stems that danced in the autumn light, whispering gentle songs into the wind. His jantar eyes are fixed on me, as if he's deciding if he did the right thing.

"Th-thank you", I manage, still breathless from the shock of what seemed like inevitable death.

His arms tighten around me and his lips part and I smile, mesmerized by his beauty. I've never seen a man I could call perfect but he is - angelic perfection.

"You're a hero. Truly. Like an angel, showing up just in the nick of time." Raising a hand, I place it on his cheek with a tremble revealing just how shaken I am - not just by the near-death experience, but him.

"I'm no hero, mam'." His accent was such a playful tune, as if he were the star of his own movie. I could have sat there all day simply to listen and smile.

"I'm not a mam', Cowboy, but you're definitely my hero." Winking I grin as he pulls me up to my feet, a smile of his own appearing and my heart stops. That smile is the prettiest thing I've seen in a while, for it extends to his golden hues and deep into his soul despite the inkling of nervousness that amplifies my interest in him.

Once I'm standing, his arms leave me and the wind blowing makes me shiver. The sky cracks open above us and rain pours down, but I'm already wet and so is he. Staring at each other with faint smirks, I realize I don't even know his name. "I'm Aurora"" I shout, hoping he hears me as thunder reminds me once again how insane this situation is. I'm almost naked in a storm on the beach with a stranger who manages to captivate me with his existence.

"Jasper." He answers and I can't help the smile upon my lips as I nod, acknowledging it.

"I like it! Though I wouldn't have minded calling you Cowboy a while longer." Shrugging, I turn to gather my belongings. Something inside me stirs, telling me not to turn my back on him. Intuition, perhaps, but I do it anyway. Licking the raindrops from my lips, I taste the salty ocean lingering in the crevices drawn by God himself on my rosy lips. I wonder if lips are as unique as fingerprints.

Holding my breath, I turn instantly at the sensation of a stronger wind blowing at my back and I find myself faced with Jasper. Wide eyed, he's staring intently, his lips pressed together as if he's waging an inner war even he's surprised he's winning.

"Are you alright?" I frown, tilting my head to the right as he nods, robotically so. He's tense, not saying a word but I notice him swallowing thickly. "We should get out of this weather before lighting strikes one of us", I joke, trying to relax him. Truth be told, I'd do anything to see him smile again. He looked ethereal, a divine gift so much so I wondered if I did die and this was my heaven.

"I know where we can go." Jasper's face remains impassive. He's not even blinking, eyes focused on mine. Normally I'd find it odd, but I find myself staring back at him, challenging him. I'm not one to back down from anything, not even a staring contest. And he's standing so close, close enough to kiss him if I dare move a half a step toward him and a part of me yearns for his lips, but another part of me is questioning the attraction I feel.

"Lead the way", I offer him a half smile as he steps away and I wrap a towel around me. It does nothing to warm me, but at least I'm not as exposed as I was.

In a blink of an eye, I exhale and lose the ground beneath my feet. When I open my eyes and inhale, I'm standing in front of a small house in the middle of the forest. "How?", I stumble. Furrowing my eyebrows, I grasp my head as if it's about to fall of my shoulders and look around wildly. The trees provide a cover from the rain, but it's not as helpful with a downpour. The house looks like it had seen better days, the vines around it growing against the walls like it does in fairytales.

"You fainted and I carried you here." Jasper explains, his arms raised in mock surrender, "I couldn't leave you there and you just started coming to a minute before we got here."

Blinking fast, I try to comprehend his reasoning and while it would have been smarter if he called an ambulance instead of bringing me to the middle of nowhere, I did find myself unusually calm. If it had been anyone else, I'd probably run and call the police, but Jasper is different. I can't walk away from him. He's alluring. Inhuman in some way I can't quite pinpoint. Maybe it's the golden locks or the unusual eye mutation, but I want to embrace what life has to offer and he's here, right before me in all his perfection. I can't deny destiny has put him on my path and if this is my second chance at life, I'm not going to waste it.

"Hope I wasn't too heavy", I chuckle nervously. My legs are still wobbly as I step toward him and he's quick to catch me before I fall. Taking me into his arms once more, Jasper chuckles and I realize this is what life is supposed to be about - living long enough to find someone who will make your heart flutter with nothing but a chuckle.

"As light as a feather", he draws out with a smile remaining on his lips.

"See?" I let out a soft sigh, my palm finding its way to his cold cheek. He raises an eyebrow, pausing before opening the door and I lean my head on his shoulder with a small smile forming on my face. "You are my hero."

3rd person POV

"Where is she?!" Kicking Aurora's suitcase, Paul dents the wall. Jared sighs, leaning on the doorframe with a raised eyebrow.

"I doubt you'll get any information out of a suitcase." He shrugs, adding for good measure, "Especially one you tortured."

Paul whips around, the vein on his forehead visible and Jared can tell he's not in the mood for his smart-ass. "This isn't a fucking joke, Jared." Running his fingers through his hair, Paul shakes his head. Plopping down on the couch, he closes his eyes and inhales the lingering smell of her perfume he found himself addicted to. "She's not just anyone to me, okay?"

"What do you mean? You didn't imprint on her, right? I mean, you can't imprint twice." Jared sits beside him, his hands interlocked and in his lap as he furrows his eyebrows.

Sitting back, Paul rolls his eyes and glares at Jared. "No, I didn't fucking imprint on her but I finally found someone worth putting my heart on the line for." Sighing, Paul leans his head back and stares up at the ceiling. "I never thought I'd find anyone after Rachel. I didn't want to." Chuckling in disbelief, Paul licks his lips. "Aurora changed my mind in a single night."

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you really fucked up when you left with Rachel then." Jared leans his elbows on his knees, hoping to hide how glad he is he's got his imprint with him. If he lost Kim in any form, he'd never recover. "Aurora doesn't seem like the type you can screw over and still be in her life."

"I know." Paul groans, standing up with resolve. "Which is why I need to explain myself and why I need to find her. Where the fuck would she go in this weather?"

Shrugging, Jared stands too. "She mentioned she likes the beach on the drive here, so maybe she went to clear her head and found shelter when the storm started."

"I should phase and find her before she gets hurt", Paul frowns, remembering the promise he made himself but he never seems to keep it. He wanted to grow old with his friends and family. He wanted to stop phasing, but he can't seem to stop. It's why he's still so young and all his friends are aging already.

"And show up like her knight in shining armor? Smart!" Jared holds up a hand for a high five only to get Paul's eye roll as his response. "C'mon. Don't leave me hanging", Jared glances at his hand before wiggling his eyebrows at Paul.

"Not gonna happen", Paul walks away, not even looking back at Jared who looked like a kicked puppy. "I'll be back in five!" Paul shouts and in moments, a ripping sound comes as the front door opens and Jared knows Paul phased already. He's much better at controlling it now, but his temper is still difficult to deal with and it always leads to him making the same mistake - phasing.

Paul trudged through the forest, following her nearly faded scent. It's extremely difficult to follow a scent after it has rained, washing away all traces, but Paul still senses her. He needs to find her and the trail leads him straight to the beach, just as Jared suspected.

Pushing aside the annoying jealousy the thought of Jared knowing this spiked, Paul steps onto the sand with care. It's risky to walk onto the beach in his wolf form in the middle of the day, despite the rainstorm, but he's desperate. He needs her to believe in him. She's the only one that does. With her by his side, Paul feels like he can become the man he always wanted. Maybe it's selfish, but he needs Aurora in his life.

However, in the first step, Paul smells it and snarls. The sickly sweet smell is familiar, difficult to ignore.

'A vampire on our territory?' Embry joins the wolf connection and Paul is grateful for it. If it weren't for Embry, he's be going in blind for blood, but he can't. He needs permission from the alpha. Ridiculous really, especially when the alpha hasn't phased in years.

'A Cullen. The blonde male.' Paul specifies, remembering the smell so clearly. He was never fond of them, especially of the blondes. One was disrespectful, the other too bloodthirsty. 'His scent is mixed with Aurora's', Paul growls, turning back to run to Sam. He has to report this and while he's blinded with his own emotions, he'd still react the same if it weren't Aurora.

'You think Jasper would hurt Aurora?' Embry questions, running to Sam who sent him after hearing from Jared.

Paul shakes the graphic thought out of his mind as he sees Sam's house on the horizon. 'They're vampires. They're killers. It's what they do.'

Part 7: A gentleman

Teeth chattering, I cling to Jasper despite his skin being freezing as mine. It's counterproductive, yet I can't seem to let him go, but I have to. The poor guy can say I'm light as a feather as much as he wants but I don't want to abuse his kindness. After all, he needs to put me down eventually, so I tap his shoulder lightly and he takes the hint.

"I'm sorry", carefully, Jasper places me on the sofa and I shake my head with a tight lipped smile.

"I'm not."

Licking his lips, Jasper grants me a dazzling smile once more and I physically restrain myself from squealing like a schoolgirl with a crush. This can't be healthy, but he makes me feel so...light? It's as if the darkness was never there to begin with and I can't explain it, I mean, I hardly know him.

"I should set up the fireplace while you can go and get some clothes from the bedroom." Jasper glances at the doorway behind him and I nod, heading straight toward it. I could definitely use some dry clothes that are less revealing and warm.

The room is quite simple, the bed in the middle with a closet beside it. The entire room is bathed in rich honey colors, very homey and comforting. I wonder if this is his favorite color.

Prepared for a dozen cowboy outfits, I open the closet in hopes of finding something that fits me remotely enough to be comfortable only to find a rather large collection of dresses and female clothes. "What the actual fuck?" I go through them, noticing all of them are from brands that most would kill for and my eyes widen as I pause.

The hair on the back of my neck stands as I realize Jasper might have broken into the house. Maybe he knew where the key is because he stole them from someone. What if this was premeditated? He seems familiar enough, so what if he's been following me with a plan of taking me here? I don't even know where here is!

"Are you alright, darlin'?"

Gasping, I whip around and swallow thickly before deciding honesty is the best policy. "You're not a criminal, are you?"

"What?" A breathless chuckle fills the room, relaxing me. "Why would you think that?" Amused, Jasper leans on the door and I draw a shuddered breath.

"Because you have a dozen high fashion dresses here and unless you're married, it feels like you either broke in or prepared this for place for a really weird hostage situation." I fold my arms and raise an eyebrow to his cocky smirk. If he thinks I'm amusing, he should see me with my claws out. Might erase that confident smirk right off his face.

"It's my brother's cabin. His wife is very into fashion." Jasper explains and I furrow my eyebrows, wishing the earth would open and swallow me whole. "But if you want to role play, I'm not gonna put up a fight."

I'm not sure how he manages to make me feel so at ease with him, but I'm definitely feeling silly for questioning his motives. "Might take you up on that, Cowboy." I wink, watching his lopsided grin with a smirk of my own. He's a flirt. A fairly good one. Maybe some other girl would jump his bones, but my specialty is not fire. It's ice.

"I should change my clothes then." Nodding toward the door, I smile, "Unless you want to stay for the show?"

He meets my gaze not with shyness but with a blunt refusal to avert his gaze first. "Don't tempt me, darlin'." His voice is warm and rich; my heart beats faster than it's design specs should allow. Then it's silent for a moment, as if he's waiting for a response but I could hardly focus. As I blush, his look of bafflement becomes a shy smile.

"I'll leave you to it." With a curt nod, Jasper leaves the room and I exhale loudly, unaware I was holding my breath this entire time. I'm really giving my lungs a workout today.

Managing to find a suitable outfit, I join Jasper in the living room. The entire cabin is tiny, just enough for lovers to live in yet I'm baffled by a crib covered in the corner. Maybe his brother had a kid. Leaning on the doorway, I watch Jasper intently. Is he a man who would get along with kids? Would he want to have some?

"I can feel you starin', sweetheart."

Biting my lower lip to prevent a smile, I step forward. "I think I prefer darling."

He sits in a chair in front of the fire, some distance back, his long legs in front of him. Glancing over his shoulder, I notice a silent half-grin on his face. "I'll make sure to remember that."

Scratching my cheek nervously, I avert my gaze to the ground and press my lips together to avoid a smile. If I keep smiling and giggling, he'll surely think I've gone mad. It's a wonder he didn't think so by now.

Walking toward him, I pause once I'm a step away from his chair. He's changed his clothes already and the glorious muscles no longer show under his jumper. His thighs are accentuated by the jeans, making me wonder if it would be too improper to sit on his lap and lean back on his chest. The back of my head would rest on his shoulder, my lips pressing devout kisses along his jaw and his arms would wrap around me, holding me closer as if he's terrified of letting go.

"If you want my seat, I'll happily let you have it." Jasper breaks me out of my fantasy and I realize I've spent this whole time staring at him. If he didn't find me odd before, he must think I am mental now.

"No need. I'll sit here", I shuffle over to the sofa, tucking my hair behind my ears as I look at the fire. "I always loved fireplaces. They're kind of romantic." Closing my eyes, mentally face-palming, I wonder why I'm like this. I'm usually poised, always know what the right thing to say is, yet I can't seem to string a single sentence together without sounding weird since Jasper pulled me out of the ocean.

"I agree." Jasper speaks softly, glancing at me. "The way the light illuminates your lips, the way the flames dance in your eyes - it's breathtakingly beautiful."

Blinking slow, I remind myself to breathe as I find myself getting lost in his golden eyes. "Your eyes are like liquid fire. I fear the burn but I cannot look away." I admit, shamelessly so. Luckily for me, Jasper doesn't seem too disturbed by it.

"What's your favorite color?" I question, hoping to know more about the mystery man.

"My favorite color?" Jasper chuckles in disbelief, glancing at the fire before focusing on me once more. "No one's ever asked me that."

For a moment I frown, wondering how that could be true, yet something tells me he's telling the truth. His eyes are filled with obvious pain and hidden trauma glistened in the tiny haze of light that radiated off the small flickering flame of the fireplace.

"It's black. Like your hair. Like your eyes." His lips twitch, suppressing a smile. Oh, I wish I could tell him how much I enjoy his smile, how he should never hide it from me. "I'd guess yours is red?"

"Blue", I correct him, happy he finally got something wrong. "Like the sky...like freedom. Everchanging shades of blue that make up every part of our lives."

"What about the season?" Jasper notices me falter, asking me another question and I cannot help but smile at his kindness.

"Spring. New beginnings, nature coming back to life." Shrugging, I tilt my head and await his answer.

"I like autumn. It's colorful." Jasper pauses as thunder rumbles, reminding us there's a storm and a whole world outside this cabin.

Jasper has been nothing but sweet and hospitable, despite his flirting, I notice he's distant. There's something off about him I can't put my finger on. He's too perfect, it goes against laws of nature.

"You should probably get some rest." Jasper speaks up as if he can sense I'm growing suspicious and a little uneasy with the silence.

"Yeah", I breathe out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, "When will you rest?"

"Soon."

"I hope you're not a blanket hog", I chuckle, standing up. My smile falls as I realize he's not sure what I'm talking about. "You'll be joining me, right?"

Jasper smiles, more with his eyes than his lips and I lick mine to hide the unseemly thoughts his lips provoke. "I'm good on the sofa."

"I don't mind. The bed is large enough for both of us." Placing my hands on my hips, I purse my lips in hopes of him accepting, but he shakes his head. His hair is dry, golden curls frame his sharp jaw and I sigh. "You saved my life. The least I can do is let you have the bed."

"That's alright, darlin', I'll be fine out here. Wouldn't be a very good host if I took up all the space and hogged the covers, would I?" The reassuring smile lights up his face and I stare in awe. He isn't human, is he? I never saw such beauty before with so little effort. What seems mundane to him is the epitome of heavenly to me.

"Don't be afraid to join me if you change your mind", I sigh, walking behind his chair only to feel his hand wrap around my wrist as I nearly pass him by. His touch is icy, cold enough to make me gasp.

Pulling my hand up, his lips press a tender kiss upon the back of it and I'm stunned, praying my legs don't fail me. Perhaps this is what is meant by a gentleman, not one of weakness or trite politeness, but one of great spirit and noble ways. What he is, what is beautiful about him, comes from deep within; it makes me want to feel how his lips move in a kiss, how his hands follow the curves of my body.

"Sweet dreams", he whispers, releasing my hand and I reluctantly pull back.

Biting my lower lip, I wrack my brain for a suitable word to say, but I can't even think properly. He has distorted my train of thought entirely.

"Goodnight, my hero." I walk toward the bedroom, painfully aware of his eyes on me.

"I thought I was a Cowboy." Jasper teases and I turn halfway around, chuckling.

"You are. A Cowboy gentleman."

Jasper's POV

As soon as Aurora is out of view, Jasper flees the cabin. It doesn't take him long to get back to the house, finding Carlisle at the door.

"You did good, my son." Carlisle pats him on the back, but Jasper is still out of it. He's terrified to draw a proper breath, aware her scent might cling to him. If he feels her, would he go back?

"He needs to hunt. Soon." Edward appears beside them, an understanding look upon in his eyes. "I'll help you. We all will."

"If I hurt her", Jasper begins, but Edward stops him.

"You won't."

"There's no guarantee", Jasper all but growls, his eyes black as the gold dwindles away and he can feel himself losing control.

"The fact that you saved her, more than once, means you are in control. You're doing better than I did with Bella." Edward reminds him and Jasper nods, calming down slightly. He's still tense, but Edward rushing off to Alaska when he met Bella definitely felt more unhinged than anything he did when he met Aurora.

But he doubts himself. "I almost killed her at the beach. When I pulled her out and the ocean stopped masking her scent...I almost killed her. The call of her blood is....intoxicating." Shaking his head, Jasper looks to Carlisle. "I brought her to the woods planning to drain her of her blood. I ran with her, prepared to do it, but when she opened her eyes I just...I couldn't."

"She's your blood singer, Jasper. It's normal to feel that way." Emmett steps out on the porch, a dark look passing his features. "I killed mine on sight. Aurora is lucky it's you, not me."

There are times Jasper wished he couldn't feel emotions, that he could easily block them, especially when Emmett remembers his kills and regret washes over him. Despite the bitter taste of remorse in his mouth, Jasper alleviates the suffering of his brother.

"I don't want to be around her." Jasper states, looking to Edward. "Just because your blood signer was your mate doesn't mean she's mine."

"Alice said", Emmett begins, pushing Jasper further than he should. He's already on edge, it's easy for him to snap.

"I know what Alice said", Jasper remarks, narrowing his eyes at his brother, "She can't be the one. No human can survive me."

"Aurora did. So far, she survived you and you're here looking for ways to keep her alive." Carlisle reasons, a reassuring smile on his lips. He's always believed in his sons more than they believed in themselves. Especially Jasper. He's much stronger than he gives himself credit for.

"Carlisle is right. You should feed and return to her. If Alice is right, do you really want to lose your mate because you're too afraid to try?" Edward pipes in, understanding him better than anyone. Not only can he hear the inner turmoil in Jasper, but he can sense he is drawn to the girl just as Edward was drawn to Bella. It's an unbreakable bond and even if he leaves, he will suffer greatly for it. They both will.

"I can protect her from anything, but", Jasper pauses, glancing at the direction he came from, "How can I keep her safe from myself? Every time I touched her, I was scared of breaking her bones or somehow drawing blood that would make me lose control."

"Practice." Carlisle explains, "A lot of practice." Edward adds with a pensive smile.

Part 8: Golden eyed family

Heaven only knows how I found myself drawn to another so fast after Paul. Something about Jasper reminds me of the old fashioned gentlemen who'd dance with their girl to nothing but a hum of their own making. I'm not sure if it's the near death experience that reminded me of the short life expectancy humans have, but I felt an instant connection with him. It can't be a coincidence, can it?

I wondered if I'd be alright after Paul, but I am. I'm still disappointed and angry at how things turned out between us, but he's barely an afterthought since yesterday. Paul and I had such chemistry, but he's complicated. Too complicated for a woman that ran from the same back home. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be.

With a sigh, I slip off my shirt, deciding to put on my clothes back. Whoever Jasper's sister in law is, she'd probably like her clothes back eventually. I know I would.

"Darlin', wo-", the voice stops and I turn with a gasp, frightened by his sudden appearance at the door. I'll admit I hoped to wake up by his side, but he really stayed on the couch. If it were anyone else, they'd join me but not Jasper.

"Morning, Cowboy." I wink, attempting to play it off. I'm praying my cheeks haven't reacted with a crimson telltale I'm embarrassed of his eyes on my body. It's ridiculous, isn't it? I've been almost naked in his arms less than twenty four hours ago, yet I'm self-conscious of my body now as I stand there in my bra.

He's quick to turn away and I swallow thickly, wondering if he's repulsed by me. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you're changing."

"It's fine. Not like you haven't seen me yesterday." I laugh it off, swiftly putting my clothes on to reduce the uncomfortable tension in the room. It's suffocating. "I'd tell you it's no biggie if you wanna sneak a peak, but I have a feeling the gentleman in you would adamantly refuse and probably be appalled by the suggestion."

A breathless chuckle escapes him and I smile, unable to resist the stupid grin that seems to appear every time he laughs or indicated he's enjoying my company. "I actually came to invite you to the main house for breakfast if you have the time."

"Main house?" I raise an eyebrow, tapping his shoulder with my left index finger. He turns on his head and we find each other face to face. I meet his gaze and hold my breath, in awe of the emotions swirling in his golden eyes. Suffering, loneliness, longing, desire; his eyes hold deep seated emotions and an inkling of hope he's trying his hardest to hold close.

"Yes. My family would love to meet you."

It's hard to tell, but I'm not really doing well. I've been looking for someone who'd see the same emotions in my eyes my whole life and with Jasper, I feel he does. For the first time ever, I feel understood. I pause, noticing the power behind those breathtaking eyes. The power that's as reckless as a tornado. His eyes flash. For a moment they look golden with warmth... and as dangerous as hell.

So why does it make me feel safer? I should run. I've seen that look in other men and all of them brought me to the point of nearly drowning in the ocean. But Jasper pulled me out. Maybe that's why I want to stay this time around.

"Are you sure they'd like a stranger barging into their house. I don't wanna impose." Tucking a strand of hair behind my left ear, I exhale and cast my gaze to his chest. The intensity of his gaze can be quite exhausting, intimidating.

Placing the tip of his cold index finger just under my chin, Jasper tilts my head up to look into my dark eyes. A soft smile on his lips gives me relief. "Not at all. They'd love to meet you and I'd love to spend more time with you."

With a subtle nod, I return his smile. "I hope you put something warmer on", I raise an eyebrow and glance at his hand as it drops, "Your hands are cold."

"They're always this cold." Jasper turns away, the smile on his face still present as he begins to walk out and I follow, barely catching up with his strides.

It didn't take us long to arrive, the walk mostly filled with Jasper's talk about the trees and flowers around us. I never realized how interesting biology can be when someone handsome speaks of it.

"I should warn you." Jasper pauses, folding his hands behind his back as he leans down, "My family is very..." He trails off, trying to find the right words before continuing, "Intrusive. They might ask a lot of questions you don't need to answer."

"I have nothing to hide", shrugging I continue forth and glance back at Jasper. "Are you coming?"

Smiling, Jasper nods, "Lead the way."

"You're not nervous, are you?" Jasper questions as I pause at the steps, gulping.

"Maybe a little." I lick my lips, staring at the door intently as Jasper walks up the few stairs and opens the door.

"Don't worry, we're all trained not to bite our guests...at least not without asking for permission first." Jasper smirks and I giggle, finding his statement odd. It's the first sexual innuendo he's made and I can honestly say I'd like to hear more. There's something about angelic looking men who have a little of the devil in their words.

"Welcome", a woman in her thirties walks out and my eyes widen. Not only is she drop dead gorgeous, but her eyes are golden like Jasper's too. "I hope you like waffles." She smiles and my heart pounds against my ribcage like an animal trapped with no way out.

"You must be Jasper's sister", I smile politely, walking up to the door on wobbly legs. I can't stop staring at her perfection.

"Mother, but you flatter me. My name is Esme Cullen." She goes in for the hug and I stiffen as her cold arms wrap around me shortly after.

What kind of a genepool is this? Cold, pale, angelic beauty with golden eyes?

"I see my wife has already welcomed you", another blonde man approaches us from the left. His kind smile is inviting, but now I realize where Jasper got his looks from. His eyes are golden as well. They must be wearing contacts, right?

"I'm Carlisle", he outstretches a hand as Esme releases me from her hug and I take it, giving it a slight squeeze. Glancing at Jasper, I notice his pensive gaze as he stands beside me - close enough to make me feel protected, but too far for me to reach for his hand for comfort.

"I believe Jasper explained we already ate, but there's plenty for you to eat." Carlisle makes eye contact with Jasper and I swallow thickly, licking my lips.

"He did not."

"I assume you'd decline if I did." Jasper speaks up and I narrow my eyes at him and the cocky smirk he flashes in return.

"I'm grateful for the invitation." I smile at Mr. and Mrs. Cullen as they both seem like quite literally the angel spawn on Earth.

"Wonderful. You can leave your coat with Jasper and he'll take you to the kitchen when you're ready." Esme and Carlisle give Jasper a fleeting glance before leaving us alone and I finally let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

"We'll see how grateful after you've met all my siblings." Jasper speaks lowly with a drawl, bringing back the accent he tries hard to hide. Sometimes it's gone entirely, yet it creeps back in every time he lowers his tone or speaks faster.

"How many are we talking?" I raise an eyebrow as I place my coat on the rack.

"A lot. We were adopted, in case you're questioning Esme and Carlisle's age."

"I was going to question the plastic surgeon they might be sharing." I chuckle, covering my mouth instantly. I didn't want someone to hear and take it the wrong way.

"Well, if you survive my sister Rosalie, you'll survive the rest of 'em." Jasper places a hand at the small of my back and my breath hitches in my throat. It's electrifying, breathtaking and addictive - his touch is like an adrenaline rush.

It would have soothed me if I wasn't already a nervous wreck. Being around Jasper helps, but I'm drowning in anxious thoughts and I cannot help but wonder if him bringing me over is just his gentleman side coming out or if it's a sign he'd like to keep me in his life longer than a single night.

I hope it's the latter.

"Oh, what did you tell the poor girl! She looks terrified!" A teasing voice comes from my side and I turn left, noticing a large man with an equally teasing smirk. He winks and I muster an awkward smile, giving him a small wave.

"I'm Emmett", he steps closer, leaning until Jasper holds out an arm before me like a barrier. "The handsome brother", but he doesn't seem affected by Jasper's actions as I do. His brother is close enough for me to note his ethereal beauty and golden hues and I'm not sure why I'm surprised, but I'm certain they're all wearing contacts now. It's a little enough to answer some of the questions I've had.

Glancing up at Jasper, I notice his face had darkened. His jaw is clenched and his eyes are fixed on Emmett. His body is tense, enough for me to worry too.

"I'm Aurora", introducing myself with a confidence I'm mostly faking now, I turn to the table and notice a lot more of gorgeous people with golden eyes staring at me. Giving them a small, awkward wave, I step closer to them only to feel Jasper's hand move to my hip.

Letting out a shuddered breath, I clear my throat, "Thank you for the gracious invitation."

"Jasper insisted." A blonde from the far end of the table speaks up with a near scowl on her flawless, perfectly sculpted face and I frown, swallowing my spit before I choke on it.

"Oh", I have never felt as uncomfortable as I do now and I've had my share of awfully uncomfortable luncheons.

"Don't listen to Rosalie, she was just as intimidating when I first came to the house", another one joins the table and I glance at her appearance. Her clothing choices are sophisticated, much like the ones I've seen in the closet back at the cabin I slept in last night. She's a timeless beauty with her long, brown hair falling effortlessly down her back with her pale skin contrasting it. She wears a sympathetic smile, perfectly paired with a comforting, supportive look in her jantar eyes. "She's all bark and no bite."

"Besides, we're more than happy to have you here." Esme adds to lessen the tension and I let out a short exhale.

Jasper moves toward the table, his hand abandoning my hip and I feel my heart physically sink with the loss of his cold touch. It's weird, I've never been a fan of anything cold, but I'd like nothing more than to feel his icy fingers dance along my skin.

Coughing, the quiet one next to the brunette widens his eyes as our gazes meet and I'm not sure why, but I could have sworn he knew where my mind went.

"I'm Bella and this is my husband Edward." The brunette waves me over, to the seats available beside her and I oblige. Jasper is quick to take the seat closest to Bella, making sure I know it by pulling out the chair right beside the one he clearly intended for himself.

"Thanks." Allowing him to seat me at the edge of the table, alone, I lick my lips and glance at the picture perfect family. I really should get some beauty tips from them. If New York gossip sites love me now, imagine how they'd be if I looked like that.

Everyone's staring at me, watching every move I make and while I'd usually write it off as paranoia, none of them are even blinking. "Do you want any toppings?" Jasper questions and I flinch, not even realizing how quiet it got. The only audible sound is my heart beating and my inner screams.

The one besides Bella, Edward, flinches and I furrow my eyebrows, pursing my lips. I swear he's the oddest of them all.

"Aurora?" Jasper tilts his head forward, blocking my view of Edward and I blink fast, hoping Jasper doesn't think I like his brother or something.

"Yes!" My voice is high and pitchy, making me pause as I chuckle and so does Emmett. "I'd love some maple syrup." I exclaim as Rosalie chuckles dryly.

"Someone needs to go get it out of the pantry. We have a guest to entertain."

"I'll go." Emmett volunteers and Jasper nods, subtly enough I'd have missed it if I wasn't already focused on him.

Leaning forward, Carlisle is kind enough to carry the conversation, "So, Aurora, where are you from?"

Raising both eyebrows, I swallow the food, "New York. I'm here strictly on business." I add for good measure. I'd rather not have Jasper or anyone else know I was foolish enough to think my heart took me here. It was nothing but an overly romanticized moment and it is over faster than I thought possible.

"And how long do you plan on staying?" The blonde, Rosalie, perks up, seemingly happy with the prospect of my quick departure. She smiles for the first time ever as Emmett walks into the room and I realize he's probably the only one capable of turning the intimidating glare she pierces me with into a gentle gaze.

"Here you have it." Emmett winks, placing the maple syrup before me. The bottle isn't open, the price tag still attached.

"Thank you, Emmett."

Emmett nods in response, moving to Rosalie's side and I smile, envious of the way he naturally gravitates to her. His hands clasp her shoulders, his lips press a quick peck to her temple and they're both smiling, both incredibly in love with one another and I cannot help but feel saddened. It's something I've always wanted - someone to love and someone who loves me back. Simple yet unattainable for people like me.

"I'm not sure when I'm leaving." I remember Rosalie asking, "I'm in the process of finding a place to stay, actually."

"You should stay here." A light, girly voice chimes in and I turn to the source only to find a dainty girl in a stunning black dress. Her hair is short and dark, only accentuating her perfectly chiseled cheekbones. Her eyes are molten gold as well, probably a sibling too. Adoptive sibling. Her smile is as light as her tone, matching the gentle gaze she set upon me.

"I'm Alice and I have a feeling we're going to be great friends."

Raising my eyebrows, I clear my throat and grab a napkin to wipe my mouth. "Nice to meet you Alice." Turning to the rest of them, "All of you, but I really should be going. I'm grateful for the offer, but I cannot accept it."

"Why?" Jasper speaks up and my heart races, as if the sound of Jasper's voice alone is enough to render me powerless. For that reason alone, I must leave.

There were far too many men who could make me feel powerless. I don't want another one on my hands. I want a man that makes me feel powerful. Paul gave me that feeling, if only for twenty four hours or so.

"Because I have plenty of money not to inconvenience anyone and I'd rather be closer to the city." Well, it's not a complete lie.

"Well, if you can stay for a lemonade, we'd appreciate it." Bella stands and I draw a deep breath, licking my bottom lip while contemplating. I mean, what's one drink, right? It's not very polite to dine and dash.

"One drink can't hurt." Edward tilts his head to avoid Jasper's, making brief eye contact with me.

Narrowing my eyes at him ever so slightly, I purse my lips and nod. "Sure. One glass."

Cullen's POV

"She's definitely special." Emmett raises an eyebrow while Aurora and Bella talk in the backyard, turning to Edward. "Did she figure out I had to speed to the store for the syrup?"

"She questioned why the bottle was new and had a price tag, but nothing else." Edward responds. "She does like to scream a lot." He turns to Jasper with an exasperated look on his face. "A lot."

Chuckling, Jasper raises an eyebrow, "I felt your pain."

"She likes you." Edward sighs, "A little too much. She's worried about it and wants to run for the hills."

"Worried how?" Jasper folds his arms, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Your presence affects her. She fears you make her powerless and she hates that feeling. She's infatuated, but fighting it with every fiber of her being. She's also wondering what plastic surgeon we go to."

"We gotta write that one down", Emmett cackles, running off to find his little joke book with all the accumulated comments he's heard humans make on his family's impressive looks.

"Anything else? Maybe something that will help me keep her around." Jasper's annoyance is easily detectable, even without mind reading abilities. His eyes follow Aurora and her frail looking body. She's incredibly beautiful, like a flower in the eye of the hurricane. If he makes one wrong move, just adds a little more pressure than necessary, she'd break under his touch and Jasper doesn't know if it's something he'd be able to live with.

In all his years, he never believed he'd be friendly with a human, let alone crave one in every possible way. Draining her would be the easy way out. Her blood calls to him like a siren's song, drawing him in, but the essence of her being is calling out to whatever is left of his heart and soul.

Alice said he'd find her, his real mate and he didn't understand it then. If anything, Jasper always believed Alice was his mate, but this feeling? This all-consuming need to protect Aurora, to hold her close? The desire to have her whisper sweet nothings in his ear as he kisses her pretty lips? It felt vastly different than it did with Alice.

Jasper owes Alice his gratitude. He owes her his life. He loves her with all his heart, he's just not in love with her.

"Aurora had some...colorful thoughts of you two", Edward clears his throat, visibly uncomfortable as Jasper turns to him in confusion, a ghost of a smile upon his lips as he realizes what Edward is hinting to.

"Oh."

"Yeah. My thoughts exactly." A breathless chuckle escapes Edward, but soon, his face hardens and his eyes look toward Bella.

"We have company." Edward appears beside Bella in seconds.

Jasper's hand slides over Aurora's lower back, safely pulling her behind him so quickly she loses her breath in fright.

"What are you doing?" Aurora gasps, turning to Jasper only to find him standing firm with his back to her face.

"Where is she?!" A growl-like voice echoes through the backyard and Aurora frowns, recognizing it instantly.

"Paul?" Her frown deepens, tilting her head so she sees around Jasper's protective stance.

"Aurora? Thank God." Paul smiles, rushing toward her when the rest of the Cullens step forth and she realizes something weird is happening.

"Not another step." Jasper warns, his hands forming fists at his sides as he strides forward and Aurora's heart sinks with the sight.

"She's with me." Paul growls, "You took her from our land."

"I think it's better if we head inside", Esme tries but I shake my head.

"I saved her life." Jasper rolls his shoulders back, taking a step closer to Paul who seems ready to get physical and Aurora can't help it.

"Can we just calm down and talk like people, please?" She speaks up, loudly enough to make sure they hear her over their macho displays of power.

"Come here." Paul turns his gaze to her, outstretching an arm with his palm open in anticipation.

Jasper slaps his arm away, getting into his face, "She's not going anywhere."

"You gonna stop me? Huh?" Paul's lips form a cold smile, one forged in anger.

"I think there's been a misunderstanding. Just calm down and we can talk it out." Aurora's voice is shaky, unable to hide her true emotions. She's scared of what might happen and she's confused about the reason why.

"I will not let you take her." Jasper stands his ground and that's when it happens. In a fraction of a second, Paul's inability to keep control finally breaks to the surface and while Aurora wasn't close to be in danger, especially not with Jasper speeding toward her to act as a shield, she was close enough to see it happen.

Shifting can be traumatic for humans and while she always believed she's stronger than most humans, her mind saw Paul - the man she truly liked, had turned into an oversized wolf in a blink of an eye. She smiles, almost in disbelief, but before a single word passes her lips, she finds herself slipping straight into Jasper's arms, darkness overtaking her sight.

"Shit." Emmett raises an eyebrow, "Really would have bet on her kicking all our asses instead of fainting."

"Her mind couldn't take it. It's a normal, human reaction." Carlisle explains.

"Bella didn't faint." Jacob and Renesmee walk out of the woods, Jacob winking at Bella.

"I already knew about vampires. What's one more weird, unexplainable thing?" She shrugs it off, looking toward the woods.

"Paul, you should really call the pack here and shift to humans. The poor girl has had enough of a shock. We'll have a barbecue and talk as she suggested." Carlisle steps in, realizing he has to diffuse the situation. The last time the wolves came, they were fighting for their lives. This time, most of them are already in human form, only a few still shift.

"What am I supposed to tell her when she opens her eyes?" Jasper's gaze is fixed on Aurora's pale face, holding her weightless body close to him with as much gentleness he could muster. Even without her being conscious, he can sense the panic inside.

Pushing some of it out, Jasper entices positive emotions within, hoping it lessens the shock.

"I think you'll figure it out. You're already doing good by her." Alice taps his shoulder lightly, reeling in her usual affections. Her vision came true, once again. If she was honest, she hoped she'd have more time to get used to the idea of Jasper loving someone other than her, but he found his mate. She'll find hers eventually as well.

"What if she hates me?" Jasper whispers, fearful of losing her.

Alice smiles knowingly. She can see some of the struggles they'll face in the future. The road ahead is filled with pain and still, she saw a lot of happiness too. "She won't."

Part 9: While she slept

Paul paces in front of the house, his paws already aching. It's a common misconception that they're indestructible, that they don't feel pain or that they don't get tired. He may be mythical, but a part of his is still human and the human inside is dreading every tick of the clock Aurora is unconscious.

"You need to calm down." Jared hisses under his breath, coming closer to his longtime best friend with a wary expression on his usually smiley face. "You're making them and us nervous. Everyone shifted back already."

Noticing Paul stop and look up where he could see Jasper standing at the window of the room they laid her down, Jared shakes his head.

"I'm pretty sure he's not gonna kill her, okay? You have to shift back before she wakes up and you still have paws instead of hands."

Huffing, Paul sits and gives Jared a pointed look. If it were that easy, Paul would never shift again. If he could, he'd cast that part of him away and take back the reigns. Unfortunately for Paul, no matter how hard he tries, his temper overpowers him and he wished he could chuck it off to his shapeshifting ability, but it's something he's had since he was little. There was always anger he couldn't control within, ever since his parents divorced when he was barely seven years old.

He has lost a lot because of it. Paul hoped he wouldn't lose Aurora too.

"He crossed to our land!"

Sighing, Jared pinches the bridge of his nose as he hears the argument start in the backyard between Embry and Emmett most likely. Paul glances their way, but refuses to move. He'll never be able to calm down enough to shift back this way.

"If he didn't, she'd be dead!" Rosalie's voice snaps Paul's head in their direction again, finding it odd the blonde would involve herself and not Emmett as Paul assumed as well as Jared. "Jasper saved her life and he protected her when you couldn't!"

"And how many times did he wish he could stick his fangs in her?!" Paul questions in his mind, still uneasy with Jasper's presence around Aurora. He blames himself for it, but he cannot allow his guilt to throw him off. For her.

"Does it matter when she's unharmed?" Edward speaks up in response to Paul's thinking, making Bella frown.

"Why does he even care? He has an imprint."

Jacob runs a hand through his hair, biting his lower lip. "Yeah, uhhh...That didn't quite work out."

"How? Aren't they soulmates or something?" Bella presses, earning herself a low growl from Paul who'd rather be as far away as possible.

"No. Imprints aren't romantic. Nessie and I aren't." Jacob reminds her and she nods, tilting her head to cast a fleeting glance at Paul who draws deep breaths.

When he's triggered, it is so very hard to have self control. He is doing the actions, it is his behavior but feels as if the gas pedal got stuck down and in that acceleration, in that momentum, the steering wheel gets all jammed up too. It's all fight or fight and it's so disappointingly primitive but Paul can't override it unless he has a friend to help him, to guide, to release that emotional pressure so that he can take back the steering and make good choices. Without someone to love and be loved, Paul loses control and he's incapable of finding peace.

For Paul, Aurora felt like peace. She felt like a sliver of control he's been looking to cling to and in that hope, he thought there was finally a solution- he'd be able to stop shifting, grow older with his friends and family, have a normal life. Losing her before he can even say she was his to hold made him so much worse off than he was when Rachel decided she wanted to be with someone else.

Jasper stood at the window with his hands folded behind his back. His eyes are downcast, focused on the wolf who is drowning in guilt and anger and neither seem to relent. It would be so much easier if he could help him and thus help himself, but some emotions need to be felt. Perhaps Paul would benefit from them in time.

There is a storm within Jasper just as strong as in Paul, but his emotions aren't of guilt nor anger, but fear and worry. He's afraid and worried of the consequences of both losing Aurora and having her. The first he'd live with, she'd at least be alive and somewhere in the white world, changing it into a better place than it would be without her. And if she stayed and allowed him to love her as a vampire would love a mate, she'd be in constant danger - not by some unpredictable element, but him and his family. Any moment, one of them could snap and kill her. He wouldn't be able to live with that.

Turning to her, Jasper could have sworn his stone heart cracked. She's so beautiful. He doesn't really know her, yet he feels knows so much about her that he can't tear his eyes away.

There are as many kinds of beauty as there are leaves in the autumnal forest. Her emotions were not easily hidden on her innocent face. Her pain was evident in the crease of her lovely brow and the down-curve of her lips. But her eyes, her dark eyes showed her soul. They were a dark heaven, an ocean of hopeless grief. As Jasper first looked into her eyes he knew, all the beauty of the universe could not even hope to compete with this simple thing: passion. Passion turned her eyes into orbs of the brightest fire, and in them he read clearly that she would fight to the very last breath for her life. She would not let the world break her. Sure she would cry in the confines of her room, but she would never let them take her true self from her. She clung to it with passion. Passion that made her beautiful.

She's confident on the outside, but Jasper saw her insecurities too. He could see she's defiant, witty, incredibly sensual and while he never thought it would happen, she proved to him that time can stand still - even for a vampire. He knows she's the girl Alice told him would be the one. She will change the way he looks at life and love.

"Paul has agreed to keep his cool." Jacob leans on the doorframe, eyeing Jasper with a raised eyebrow. "As long as she's not missing a single hair from her head."

"She'll never come to harm by my hand, Jacob." Jasper glances at the young wolf with a solemn look in his eyes. "I'd rather be ripped apart by Paul himself than hurt her."

"You can't swear by it. If she were to bleed, you'd lose control." Paul's voice is low, dark. It's enough for Aurora's mind to grasp to reality.

"Not when it's her." Jasper stands firm, truly believing it. If there is something he'd never allow, it's to be the reason behind her demise. "She means everything."

"You don't even know her." Paul snarls, "I", planting the palm of his right hand on his chest, Paul continues, "Do! I know her. I've felt her, held her, kissed every inch of her skin!" Smirking as he notices Jasper's eyes harden, Paul steps closer, "I had her putty in the palm of my hands and she loved it. So you can hop off whatever fantasy you have about being with Aurora, because she is mine."

Holding his tongue, Jasper narrows his eyes at Paul and the possessive words he spilled so carelessly. He speaks of Aurora as if she's his property, as if he could bend her to his will - break her like a horse, as they used to say in his hometown. It irks him in the worst possible way, the inner desires to act on his instinct fighting its way to the surface.

"Do tell her that. And let me watch when you do." Jasper winks, grinning. Then he lowers his voice and leans closer, "She's not a thing to own. Regardless of what you believe, she is free to choose what's best for her and I don't think either of us fit the box."

"That's why I'll show her I am the choice she should make." Paul shrugs, turning to her. "She may be important to you, but she's my saving grace."

"She's my mate. I believe that trumps whatever misogynistic claim you think you have on her." Jasper cracks, raising voice and in that instant, Aurora gasps.

Frightened and aware they've heard her, she opens her eyes and sits back against the headboard.

"It's alright", Jacob steps toward her with arms up and open to prove he's not a threat. Her heart hammering inside her chest drew everyone's attention, aware she's awake.

"The show is starting." Rosalie chuckles, sitting back in her chair.

"That's not okay." Seth speaks up, sending Rosalie a judgmental look before looking to Carlisle.

"Seth is right. Either support Jasper or don't say anything at all."

Happy with Carlisle's words, Seth's cheeky grin appears and Rosalie can't help but glower at him.

"I'm actually rooting for them." Emmett pipes in.

Bella chuckles, "You always had a weak spot for humans."

"Just the cool ones." Emmett winks. High-fiving Bella, they both decide to go upstairs, hoping to diffuse the situation.

It's not easy to deal with the supernatural, Bella knows that. Even she struggled with it to a degree, but she knew Aurora might have a harder time accepting the world she entered. Most humans cannot fathom the existence of vampires and shapeshifters, but Bella knew Aurora would eventually acclimatize. Adjusting may be hard, but there is a reason she was seen in Alice's visions and there is a reason she drew the attention of both species. After everything she survived, Bella trusts Alice and her visions.

"We won't harm you", Jacob reaches for Aurora's hand but she recoils.

Pure terror surged through her veins, icy daggers straight to the heart. The fear she'd felt in the ocean was nothing compared to how she feels now. Now she feels as if she's being held underwater, gasping for air but not being able to do a damn thing about it. She can't help but think that maybe it would be better if she drowned. At least then the nightmare would be over. But this, whatever it is, it's real and she's surrounded by people that aren't really people.

"It's going to be alright", Jasper's warm tone brings her attention to him, his lips. She never quite figured out if the beauty of his lips was more their softness or the association with the words he spoke. Either way, his lips and voice eased her fears.

"Don't fucking control her!" Paul growls, glaring at Jasper. Jacob jumps between the two, leaving open a path.

Noticing it, Aurora flings herself toward the door, narrowly missing Emmett and Bella who frown, sharing a confused look.

"Umm, is she supposed to be running away?" Bella questions, seeing all three of them stop and turn to her with wide eyes while Emmett chuckles,

"Shit!"

Part 10: Run

I liked running as a teenager. Running was a vent, a way to overcome all emotions I had been forced to push under the surface. When I'd run, when my soles felt the earth and gained their own rhythm, my thoughts became lyrics - my own original track had the chance to play for its audience of one. It became an escape from reality, from the cruelty of life and all I was supposedly blessed with. But this isn't running.

Tears blind me and I turn, running as quickly as my short legs can carry me, bolting through the unmarked forest trail, quickening my pace to an all out sprint. The crunching noise of my bare feet against the leaves is drowned out by an echo that matched my heart throbbing inside my chest with the thick fear I feel as I run. I feel the screaming of my lungs and the will of my muscles to go far beyond what exercise could ever demand. This is the body and brain on full survival mode and it is nothing but pain.

With each footfall a jarring pain shoots ankle to knee, ankle to knee. My heart beats frantically, it's all or nothing. Fail and my whole body will pay the price. They know the area better than I, they're fast and I don't even know what else beyond their ability to somehow become giant wolves. So, I run. I run faster and faster. Twigs scraped past my face, entangling themselves into my hair. My feet slip and I almost tumble over, more time I cannot afford.

All at once my foot ceases to travel forwards and the scenery starts to blur like a poorly shot action photograph. The colors swirl and blend as my head becomes tilted toward the forest floor. I can't open my voice to scream, fear, paralyzing my body.

"Ugh", I grumble, wheezing as my burning lungs gasp for air. My legs feel numb and unsteady, painfully sore. My throat feels dry, so uncomfortably dry. Turning on my back, I feel a burning sensation on my leg. Swiping my palm across my thigh, I raise it up to my face only to see crimson - I'm bleeding.

Heaving, I close my eyes for a moment. I'm not sure what I'm running from, but I'm sure I miss being bored in my big apartments, drinking champagne all day while spending my father's money online.

"Hello there."

A sudden, strange voice jolts me back to reality and I gasp, sitting up instantly. I kick my legs out and push myself away from the man as he stares at me with a Cheshire grin. It's unsettling how his eyes seem to rack over my body, pausing at my injured thigh with interest. He licks his lips, slowly, before stepping closer to me.

"Stay back!" I shout, pushing myself further from him until I hit an obstacle. Quickly glancing at it, I realize I'm backed against a tree trunk, my legs still feeling as if they would fall off from the unexpected sprinting. I'm not even sure if I could stand if I have to run again.

"Why would I do that, little sheep?" The man chuckles, amused with me. He cocks his head to the side, approaching me.

"It's enough." I hold out a hand, palm open toward him. It's stupid really, as if my hand would stop him. He's tall, burly and from the unsettling vibes he's giving, I'm convinced he has no good intentions.

"You're a rare sight, do you know that? A legend, really." The man purses his lips, crouching to eye level and my eyes widen as I finally see his red eyes. "I've heard of it, but to see it? To smell it?" He smirks, leaning in with a malicious glint in the blood pools his eyes are made of.

"What the fuck are you talking about?!" Defensive, I pull my legs up to my chest as he reaches out to touch my bleeding wound.

"Your blood, of course."

In a blink of an eye, his hand is wrapped around my neck and I'm gasping for air. A choked cry for help forced itself up my throat, and I feel a drop run down my cheek. Grabbing onto his hand, I try to sink my nails into his skin, to hurt him enough for the pressure to let up and allow me to take a proper breath, but it doesn't work. My heart is hammering, helplessly screaming for oxygen as adrenaline forces it to go faster, quicker, to supply my brain with blood it needs to survive.

As my vision blurs, I feel relief. The hand is gone, I'm wheezing in a failed attempt to catch my breath. Gripping my throat, I feel as I fall to my side, coughing uncontrollably as a hand sets on my back. It's warm, running up and down my spine as I blindly reach for something to hold on.

I hear muffled voices, drowned out by the pulsating in my ears from the panic that's been tormenting my body. And as I heave, a cold hand rests upon mine. It's familiar, enough to remind me of the initial reason why I was running, but I'm not scared. If anything, I'm feeling safer.

"She'll be fine son. Leave." I hear Carlisle's voice and flinch, trying to crawl away but the warm hand on my back becomes a pair of arms meant to cage me.

I'm picked off the ground and held close to someone's chest. "It's alright, I'll help you."

Blinking my eyes open, I gulp as I realize my vision is blurred. I notice a faint glow of golden hair and shapes of what must be really large dogs, but my conscience is slipping. My eyelids are heavy, swallowing is becoming increasingly difficult.

"Carlisle, she might be crashing!" A panicked voice startles me and still, I can't fight. Not anymore.

"Get her back to the house."

Momentarily, my vision clears, enough to know I'm among Cullens and Paul's friends again. I'm back where I was running from.

"She's struggling to breathe."

I need time to make some sense of all I've seen, to try and justify it as a latent hallucination from nearly drowning. It must be it, right? Supernatural doesn't exist. It can't be real.

"Her throat is swelling", Carlisle's voice is soothing. I sigh, closing my eyes in resignation.

"Go Jacob!" The familiar southern accent makes my heart jump and I try to open my eyes to see him again, but to no avail. Everything is fuzzy, I see nothing at all. My consciousness is floating through an empty space filled with a thick static. My heartbeats pound loudly, echoing in my ears, alongside fading pleas for help. Feeling in my body drains away until finally all is black.

3rd person POV

Arms folded on his chest, Jasper remained leaned against the tree where Aurora was found. He cannot make himself go to her, anywhere close to her while she's bleeding and in pain. Jasper needed her to be safe and she is safe with his family, but he doesn't feel she's safe with him around.

He's staring at the blood spilled from her veins beneath his feet, the sweet smell addictive and inviting. A part of him is tearing to the surface in hope of tasting, just a single drop, but another part of him is just as feral but for a good cause. That part of him wants to feel the burn of his desire to feed until he remembers that losing her would be a far worse pain.

"You should be there with her." Edward speaks, arriving to comfort Jasper who could comfort anyone but himself. What a curse his gift is. He had fallen farther than Edward ever saw him fall before. There is no light in his black eyes, his grief is evident and his thoughts are heavy enough to make anyone depressed.

"She's going to want you there." Edward tries, but Jasper scoffs.

"I'm the reason she's in this mess." Fixing his rage on Edward, Jasper turns to him. "I am why she ran! I felt her fear and I felt the terror in her when we found her! I should have just left her on the beach and ran!"

"Didn't she choose to come with you?" Edward challenges, "Isn't a choice all we can truly offer them?" Not too long ago, Edward only had a choice to offer to his own mate and he knows the difficulties of a mate bond with a human and still, it was worth it in the end. Edward had no doubt about it.

"She wouldn't choose it if she knew what she chose." Jasper groans, punching a hole in the tree he was leaning on.

"We need to find a way to cover her scent. Even I'm having a hard time with it." Edward looks to the blood infusing the ground with weary eyes and a somber mood. Perhaps it's coming from Jasper, unintentionally sharing his own emotions.

Growling under his breath, Jasper steps closer to Edward, making him scoff.

"I'm not planning on repaying the favor for Bella." Furrowing his eyebrows, he looks at his brother relaxing a little with the statement. It was meant to be a joke, but Jasper clearly doesn't feel up for any jokes.

"Where is Paul?" Jasper leans down, thinking how to rid of the blood too.

"Beside her. Holding her hand. Carlisle injected her with corticosteroids to reduce the inflammation, something for the pain and dressed the wound."

Nodding, Jasper digs his hand in the ground, pulling out the dirt stained with her blood. "Maybe he would be good for her...If he doesn't phase and kill her first." Shaking his head, he pauses. He never felt weaker, more human than he did when he saw her paling, choking under the nomad's hand. He was enjoying torturing her to her last breath. Jasper regrets killing him so quickly, he should have suffered. "He's too dangerous for her. Out of all of them, she had to go and take the most temperamental one?"

"You can't force anything on her. I tried with Jacob and it backfired. Take it one day at a time, one problem at a time. Like this blood." Edward grabs some of the dirt with his hands too, "Let's toss it in the ocean and hide her scent. If other vampires smell it, they'll come looking for her and we can't let that happen."

"I'll help", Emmett joins, already digging out soil, "She's family as far as I'm concerned."

"It's been a day", Rosalie appears, digging her hands into the dirt as well - reluctantly. "Edward had the decency of spending a month with Bella before imposing her on us."

"A mate is a mate", Bella stops beside Jasper, a sympathetic smile on her lips. "And yours will be just fine. She's a fighter."

"She'll be fine." Alice comes too, giving Jasper reassurance he needed.

Nodding, he looks around at his family holding hands full of dirt soaked in blood and none of them are even flinching. He's not flinching either. They did this once with Bella, they're more prepared now and if they are so willing to protect Aurora, to keep her around, Jasper is too. He knows he can't just push her away and hope everything turns out fine. It doesn't work that way - it didn't work that way for Bella and Edward. He can't fight it, he doesn't want to.

But Paul has decided the same, unbeknownst to Jasper. He could care less about mate bonds and what that might entail. Aurora and he share a connection he never shared with anyone but his imprint and that wasn't his choice. Aurora is more than a one night stand or a rich benefactor willing to help the school in La Push. She's worth the fight.

"You managed to shift for her." Jacob notes, not hiding his surprise.

"It's not a big deal." Paul grumbles, keeping his hand in hers. He hoped she could feel his warmth. Maybe it would comfort her.

"It's a huge deal." Jacob shrugs, "But you can pretend otherwise. You've never been able to shift in these situations, yet you're here with her."

Rolling his eyes, Paul turns sideways to throw Jacob a glare. "It's been ten years, Jacob. I'm not the angry teenager I used to be."

"No, but you are the only one who still can't control his phasing. You and I both know that you managed to control it to be in this room, to be there when she wakes up. You care about her." Jacob walks closer, holding out a beer for Paul. "Rachel couldn't help you calm down enough and she was your imprint. So, this brings up questions."

"Rachel couldn't help me because she never gave a fuck about me." Paul snaps, spitting as his disgust fuels his words. "I was willing to do anything for her and she still cheated and left me for another. Aurora was willing to do everything for me and I fucked up because my imprint decided to be jealous for the night and pull me away."

"I'm not saying what she did wasn't fucked up, but you chose to leave without explanations. Aurora was deeply hurt because you chose to hurt her." Jacob retorts as he takes a seat beside Paul. They never saw eye to eye, but Jacob will always see Paul as his brother. He could never leave him when he's suffering.

"I know, but how does one tell a girl of wolves and vampires and an imprint I will always have to prioritize?"

"Well, cat's out of the bag now, so you might as well explain everything to her. If you don't, Jasper will fill all those pesky holes in the story and you might end up on the short end of the stick." Jacob turns to the door, making sure no one's there. "You have to be honest and ask for forgiveness."

"And if it doesn't work?"

Licking his lips, Jacob lifts his eyebrows, "Jasper will win."

"He'll kill her." Paul frowns, trying to keep himself calm because the thought of his Aurora ever being touched by that vampire made his blood boil. She's his.

"Worse. He'll turn her into one of them."

Pressing his lips in a thin line, Paul exhales loudly through his nose. "I won't let him."

[flowerfan2]

A story about a reunion, and everything that happens afterwards.

Chapter 16/20 - Read on A03 here.

Patrick reads the email over again, just to make sure, then he runs out into the living room to tell David.

“I did it.”

David looks up from his spot on the couch, his black-framed glasses perched on his nose.  They’ve had a very sleepy Sunday morning, followed by a big breakfast of bacon and omelets, and David still hasn’t gotten around to putting in his contacts.  Patrick loves him like this.

“What did you do?”  David rises up from the couch, all grace and designer loungewear, and comes over to Patrick.

“I got a job.”  Patrick isn’t sure if what he is feeling is relief, excitement, or equal parts of both, but it feels amazing.

David smiles at him and pecks him on the cheek.  “Of course you did.”  He sits down on the couch and pats the cushion next to him.  “Sit down and tell me about it.”

“It’s just a consulting position, bookkeeping mostly, but for a company that works with start-ups and young entrepreneurs.  And it’s decent pay, more than I was expecting for this kind of thing.”

“That’s great,” David says.  “When do you start?”

“They want me right away.”  Patrick can feel his smile stretching his cheeks.  It’s the first time he’s felt anything but useless in so long, the way the people at this firm seemed to understand what he could bring to the table.  Patrick accepts another kiss from David, and then pops back up off the couch.  “I’m gonna call my parents.”

He goes into the bedroom and talks to his mom, then his dad, and then the conversation somehow gets derailed into a debate on whether buying new furniture for the lanai right now is a good idea or if they should stick with what they have for the time being.  Patrick kind of likes the idea of making David go shopping for patio furniture with him, so he’s voting for the former.  Finally they circle back to his job, his parents congratulate him again, and he gets off the phone.

He’s headed back to the living room, but pauses when he sees David in the guest room.  David has a black leather bag open on the bed and his sweaters folded in careful piles next to it.  Patrick’s stomach drops.

“David?  What – what are you doing?”  

David looks up.  He’s dressed in his favorite armor, glasses discarded in favor of contacts, a fuzzy black sweater over the black jeans with the rips in the knees.  “You said you were starting right away.  You didn’t say where, but I’m assuming Toronto-”

“Toronto?  Why would you assume Toronto?”

David’s face shutters further, and he turns back to his bag.  “I know I said I’d go anywhere with you, but I thought you might at least give me a heads up, discuss it a little bit, especially if it’s not Toronto.  I do have to deal with my apartment there at some point.”  David turns towards him, a hand on his hip.  “Do you even still want me to come with you?”

Patrick doesn’t know how this could have gone so horribly wrong, and he crosses to David, grabbing him by the shoulders.  “Stop packing.”

“You don’t want me to come with you?”  David’s voice is rising, and Patrick shakes his head.

“I’m not going anywhere.  We’re not going anywhere, not until we both decide we want to.”

“What on earth do you mean?”

“David, we’re not going anywhere.  I don’t have to <i>go</i> anywhere.  It’s a remote job.”

David stares at Patrick, and Patrick watches as he mentally replays the conversation they’ve had so far.  “You aren’t leaving?”

“No.”  Patrick sits down on the bed, David frowning at him as he knocks over a pile of sweaters, but sits down next to him anyway.  “It’s remote, part-time.  A consulting gig.  Varied schedule, but they think it’ll be about 20-25 hours a week, depending in part on how much their clients like me, and how well I can add value.  I may need to go to the Toronto office a few times a year, for meetings or something.  But I’m doing the job from home – from here, or wherever.”

David turns away, picking up his off-white hoodie and pretending to refold it, even though Patrick can tell he just needs something to do with his hands.  “You should have told me that,” David says, embarrassed.

“I know.  I’m sorry, I just got so excited.”  Patrick leans into David, rubbing a hand on his back.  “I’m sorry,” he says again, letting it sink in, letting David get his balance.  “I wouldn’t make any plans for us without talking it over with you.  I promise I wouldn’t.  My plans wouldn’t be any good without you.”

David’s eyes flicker to his and away, his hands still wrapped in the halfway folded sweater.  

“It’s true, David.”  Patrick puts his free hand on top of David’s, calming their restless movement.  “I don’t want any plans without you in them.  I haven’t even accepted the offer yet.”

“You haven’t?”  David turns back, searching his face.

“Nope.  I told them I had to talk it over with my boyfriend.”  Patrick’s taking a risk, throwing that word out there.  But David had done it first last time, and he doesn’t think there’s really any question that it applies.  He’s sort of glad that he hasn’t used it yet; there’s more of an impact now, when David clearly needs it.

David’s eyes go wide.  “You did?”

“I did.  So – what do you think?”

David shifts, and his demeanor softens, his walls coming back down.  “I think your <i>boyfriend</i> needs to know more.”  There’s a smile hidden in his cheek, an agreement.  Patrick wants to cheer.  David holds his gaze, and his smile escapes, mirroring Patrick’s own.  “And then you probably need to ask for more money.  There’s nothing wrong with asking for what you deserve.”

“You don’t even know what they offered me.”

“Whatever they offered, you’re worth more.”

******

Patrick gets up earlier than normal a few days later and shaves carefully, examining his face closely in the mirror.  He doesn’t look like someone who hasn’t worked in months.  He just looks like himself.  And when he presents himself to David for approval, David’s smile courses through his lips and into his cheeks, his hands dancing to Patrick’s shoulders, smoothing down the thin fabric of his favorite purple dress shirt.  He’s ready.

They set up an office of sorts for Patrick in the guest bedroom, shifting the bed to one side, moving a dresser out of the room and into the hallway, and arranging a table by the window.  Patrick decides that one of the dining table chairs will work for the time being, and David fusses with the curtains, concerned that the glare will make it hard to see his laptop screen.

Finally Patrick ushers David out of the guest room and logs in to a Zoom meeting for orientation.  It’s boring as hell, but he doesn’t complain.

It’s not as if he thought he was unemployable, it’s just that after his last job imploded so strangely, he wasn’t sure what it would be like to be an employee again.  And didn’t know if anyone would give him a chance to find out.  Turns out, Alexis was not only good at papering over his employment blips, she was awesome at pep talks and interview practice.  He makes a note to himself to call her soon and thank her.

That night they make sandwiches and eat them on the lanai.  It’s a little cool for it, but it still feels nice to be outside.  Patrick had his parents send him down some more clothes, but David scoffed at the idea of wearing a jacket.  Instead he’s got a throw blanket draped around his shoulders, a giant turquoise fleece wrap that clashes terribly with his otherwise neutral palette.

They get a series of texts from Stevie, photos of the house she’s buying in Schitt’s Creek.  It’s a three-bedroom ranch on a decent sized lot.  The interior looks like it hasn’t been updated in decades, with a pink bathroom and horrendous wallpaper in the bedrooms, but Stevie’s had plenty of experience updating décor at this point.

David teases her for a few minutes, riffing on how unbelievable it is that she’s adult enough to be a homeowner, but his heart doesn’t seem in it.  Patrick doesn’t tell him how Stevie has been saving for years, every bonus and raise going into an account for a down-payment.  

After their chat with Stevie, David seems out of sorts, and Patrick isn’t sure what to do about it.  After they’ve cleaned up from dinner, he suggests they play a game.

David gives him a frowny look, and Patrick immediately knows what he’s thinking.  Neither of them are in the mood for sex.  “Not that kind of game.  A card game, or a board game.”

David perks up at this, then deflates.  “We don’t have the right number of people for a board game.”

“I bet we can find something the two of us can play.  My parents have a pile of games in the hall closet.”

They pull down the basket of games from the shelf above the laundry machine, and David peers inside.  “Did they get these from a yard sale or something?”

There’s a worn box that contains a checkerboard, with both checkers and chess inside, a Connect Four game, a few decks of cards, and Uno.

“I think my aunt sent them down.”  Patrick takes out the Uno deck.  “How about this?”

David takes the whole basket into the living room and sets it on the coffee table.  He takes out the Connect Four game and pulls out the plastic frame, dropping a round tile into it.  “I had this game,” he says thoughtfully.

“I think everyone had that game.”

David dumps out the rest of the pieces, and a greeting card falls out.  It’s got a drawing of a bouquet of flowers on the front, with “Get Well Soon” in big letters.  “What’s this?”  David opens it and reads out loud.  “Marcy – hope this brings a little bit of fun to your day.  You’re in our prayers.  Love Susie and Pete.”

Patrick takes the card and reads it, his mind flashing back to last spring, flying down to see his parents.  His dad breaking down in tears on the car ride from the airport.  His mother telling him not to worry.

“Patrick?  Patrick, honey, what’s going on?”

David has his arm around him, and he’s pressed close to him on the couch.  Patrick brushes away the wetness on his cheeks, and David pulls him into a hug.  “Patrick, tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s nothing.”

David glares at him.

“I mean, it turned out to be nothing.”  Patrick shakes himself and clears his throat.  “My mom had a cancer scare last spring.  They found a tumor in her breast.  But it was benign.”

“<i>This</i> doesn’t sound like it was benign.”  David waves the card at him.  “People don’t say <i>you’re in our prayers</I> when it’s benign.”

“She had a bad reaction to one of the drugs, during the surgery, and took a little while to recover.  She was laid up for a while, and pretty miserable.  But it wasn’t cancer.”

David’s eyes are wet, and he looks like he’s going to cry, too.  “She’s okay now?”

“She’s okay.”  Patrick leans against David, snuggling into his arms, and they both breathe together for a long moment.  “Oh god, I think that’s why I freaked out in the doctor’s office.”

David shifts to look at him.  “What do you mean?”

“As soon as I heard, I flew down here.  I went with my mom and dad to the doctor’s visits before her surgery.  I couldn’t stay long afterwards, I had to get back to work, but…” Patrick’s throat gets tight, remembering.  “It was awful.  We were all so frightened.”

David presses Patrick’s head against his own, his large hand against Patrick’s scalp warm and comforting.  Patrick can feel David’s chest rising and falling.  David’s taking deep breaths, he can tell, trying to stay calm.

“You said this happened last spring?” David says quietly.

“Yeah.”

“When things started to go wrong for you at work.”

Patrick tenses.  “My mom was in the hospital.  I think it’s understandable that I was having trouble focusing.”

“No, honey, of course.  That’s not what I meant.  Of course it is.  It’s just – you didn’t mention that before.  That being worried about your mom is what started to get you down.”

Patrick feels like he’s a cartoon character with a light bulb flashing over his head.  Could it be that simple?  Was worrying about his mom’s health, on top of his general dissatisfaction with where he had ended up in life, what pushed him over the edge into depression?  

David tightens his arm around Patrick’s shoulder.  “I’m so sorry, Patrick.  That that happened to your family.  It must have been a very scary thing to deal with.”

“It really was.”

“I’m so glad she’s okay.”

Patrick turns and buries his face in David’s neck.  “Me too.”

That night, after David falls asleep, Patrick turns to the internet.  He hadn’t wanted to do this before.  He’s not sure why, although he thinks it has a lot to do with denial.  But he can’t stop thinking about his mom, and how hard it had hit him when she was sick.  Gritting his teeth, he starts googling causes of depression.  Upsetting or stressful life events.  Death or illness in the family.  Job-related worries.  Huh.  Maybe he had good reason to feel like things were falling apart.  Maybe that’s why he lost the ability to care about his job.  Maybe he’s not doomed to fail at his new one, too.

Patrick scrolls to the email from the therapist he’s been talking to.  So far, it’s just been a few emails and a brief phone call, an introduction, to see if she seemed like a good fit.  She’s based out of Toronto, but has many patients that she counsels remotely, on Facetime or Zoom, and comes highly recommended.  With shaking hands, he types out a message, suggesting that they schedule a session soon.  “I think it started last spring…”

[salty-sith-bitch]

Sweet Child O’ Mine

Chapter 1

Words: 5k

Pairings: Din Djarin X Orla Fett (Boba Fett’s daughter), Boba Fett & Daughter 

Genre: Fluff, humor, angst, romance

Warnings: cursing, canon typical violence, eventual smut, more to come?

Summary:  Orla Fett is reunited with her long-lost father five years after his presumed death and welcomed into his palace. Hired as one of his best bounty hunters, Orla struggles with finding her place in the galaxy and if she wants to stay a bounty hunter. Her new companion, The king of Mandalore - Din Djarin - may end up helping her make up her mind.

“I’m just a simple woman trying to find her way in the galaxy, like my father before me ”

That’s what Orla told herself every morning when she woke. She was just a simple woman trying to survive and make her way in the galaxy, catching one bounty at a time as her father did. It was her only job - staying alive and filling her father’s spot.

When her father passed five years prior Bib Fortuna hired her as his main mercenary and provided her with more than enough jobs to support herself. Orla didn’t particularly love it but it’s what she had. Her father had made sure that if anything were to ever happen to him that she had a large and appreciated skill set, making it easier for her to find work. She was thankful for that. Thankful her father prepared her for the worst like his father before him.

There were still days she missed her father. Days where it became hard to get out of bed and put her armor on. She missed the Slave I too. Not because it was a great ship or that it was supposed to be passed to her at the fall of her father, but because of the memories she made with her father there.

Laying in her cramped quarters Orla stared at the ceiling, brushing her fingers through her hair gently as she recalled one of her earliest memories - her first hunt with her father.

The smell of rain and metal dripping from her father's armor made her slightly queasy, reminding her of blood. She could almost taste the iron in her mouth if she thought about it too much. She wasn’t used to it but her father said it would become less noticeable over time. Nodding silently she watched her father drag the bounty away and towards the carbonator. She could hear the hissing and screams of the bounty and it sent a cold shiver through her body. She tried to instead focus on detangling the soaked braid on her head.

Growling in frustration Orla dropped her hands and stomped her foot. Her body ached with exhaustion and she was uncomfortable. Letting a sniffle escape she leaned her head against the wall of the ship and cried.

"Ad'ika," her father called softly.

When she didn't respond he approached her and set a hand on her shoulder. "Orla, my princess. What is wrong?"

Orla rubbed her eyes and took in a hiccuping breath before speaking. "My hair is tangled, papa."

Smiling sweetly, her father patted her cheek. "Come, daughter. I'll fix it for you."

Orla found herself being scooped up and cradled into her father's chest. He carried her to the makeshift cot he made for her and set her down, letting his fingers gently pull apart the tangles.

"You did good today my child."

Humming Orla let her eyes drift shut as she leaned back into her father.

Sighing heavily Orla raised a shaky hand to her cheek and wiped away the tears. A full-grown woman and highly respected bounty hunter, crying in the sleeping quarters of her little hut long before the suns had even risen. She laughed at herself. If her father was here now he would sternly tell her to get herself together and then gently pat her cheek lovingly.

Steadying herself Orla wiped the last few tears and sat up in bed. Throwing the covers off she made her way across her hut and started to assemble her armor.

***

Orla sat in the Cantina of some outer rim planet stressed and annoyed. She had been on this mission for nearly a week and still couldn’t find her bounty. She had even asked the locals and none of them could give her information on the bounty.  Clutching the glass in her hand Orla watched as foam swirled as she chewed on the inside of her cheek. She was ready to give up, head back to Tatooine and tell Fortuna he could just shove it up his ass. The thought brought a smirk to her face but she knew she couldn’t do that.

Sighing heavily Orla poured herself another glass of mead and brought it to her lips. Throwing her head back Orla downed the entire glass and slammed it on the table. Wiping her mouth she raised an eyebrow as she made eye contact with the new visitor.

The woman, small and sleek with a braid down her back, eyed Orla back. Her eyes were piercing and it made Orla unsettled. It wasn't often that she felt uneasy about someone but for some reason, this woman in front of her made her uncomfortable.

“I’m not really in the mood for company at the moment. So unless you have info about my bounty I would appreciate it if you left.” Leaning back in her chair Orla reached for the pitcher of mead.

Her new, unwelcomed visitor was quicker though, swiftly grabbing the pitcher and her glass to fill for herself. Lips pressed into a thin line Orla continued to lean back, letting her hand slowly brush over her thigh and towards her blaster.

“I’m not here to keep you company or to give you info about your bounty. And there's no use in trying to shoot me. I know all your tricks. You’re just like your father.” Smirking, the woman lifted the glass of mead and downed the entire glass much like Orla had just a moment prior. “I’m here to take you back to Tatooine. Your presence has been requested at the Hutt Castle."

Orla scoffed. She was starting to grow unsettled but refused to let it show. No one openly talked to her about her father, especially so forward. Yet here was this woman she knew nothing about and seemed to know almost everything about her.

"I'm on a hunt. I'm not just abandoning. They know where I am. If it was so important they could comm me."

"It's under new management now. This hunt isn't important. What is, is that you come back with me to Tatooine and do just as I say."

"Dank Farrik," Orla cursed under her breath.

Her mind was racing with hundreds of questions and thoughts. New management was never good. It meant Fortuna was most certainly dead leaving her without work. The new owner could very well be demanding she come back to the castle to give her a new position… or to simply kill her off. It would all depend on just who killed Fortuna and where the Fett Clan stood with them.

Orla couldn't think of anyone who would be seeking her demise but her father told her to always assume someone would be after her. She thought about escaping. Trying to find a way out of the cramped cantina and find a new home elsewhere, or maker, even change her name and lay low in a village or dinner caves. But then her thoughts turned into what if she just listened to the woman in front of her and went back to Tatooine. This woman wasn't trying to fight her or take her as her own personal bounty as far as she could tell, and if she listened maybe they would see that as her committing her skills to them and hire her on a permanent mercenary.

"Listen," the woman spoke up. "I can see you thinking. This isn't a trap and you're not gonna die. You're more than welcome to just leave now, forget about the bounty you are on, and start a new life but I think you'll want to see what happens at the castle."

Chewing her cheek again, Orla stared into the woman's eyes, looking for any hint of a lie. When she couldn't find anything Orla leaned forward and grabbed the pitcher and glass, pouring herself the last serving and gulping it.

"Fine. I'll go. But what about my ship? And how can I trust you? I don't know who you're working for and I doubt you'll tell me, so can I at least get your name?"

"Your ship doesn't matter anymore. You'll be given a new one. We can stop and collect anything you may need from it for now but if you wish to come back and get it in the future then do as you will."

The woman stood and Orla followed, trailing after her out of the cantina and to the ship docks.

"And my name," the woman said as she looked over her shoulder, "is Fennec Shand."

***

The ride to Tatooine was spent in silence. Orla didn't mind, she was never one for conversations with people outside her close ring and Fennec didn't seem like much of a talker either. Orla spent most of the flight napping in the passenger seat, hand lingering over her blaster just in case Fennec tried to do anything funny. The trip was long and Orla's body cried for rest. Relaxing into her seat she let sleep eventually consume her. When the ship started its descent she woke and stretched her stiff limbs as the dunes came into view.

Even walking to the castle was spent in silence. Orla started to worry less and less about Fennec trying to harm or kill her but she still couldn't shake the feeling that something big was about to happen. The universe felt off, heavier, and almost foggy like a dream. Shaking the feeling off Orla continued to walk until she reached the castle, stopping just outside the entrance to the lower level.

 Fennec didn't bother stopping calling out to her as she continued to go down. "You don't want to keep him waiting."

Shutting her eyes and taking one last steadying breath Orla walked down the stairs and down into the throne room.

The silence that welcomed her was terrifying. She had never seen the palace empty and was prepared for someone to jump out and attach her. Turning around in circles she searched for Fennec but couldn't find the woman anywhere. The only thing that greeted her was the echoing sound of her footsteps bouncing off the palace walls. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She felt the tension in the air, like electricity wrapping it around her and coursing through her veins.

Down the hallway, a new set of footsteps echoed off the palace walls. Orla turned slowly to see who it was, her hand inching towards her blaster prepared to draw and start shooting if anyone tried attacking. Before she could reach her blaster though she froze. Every muscle in her body locked up and she felt her lungs screaming at her to breathe.

Brain screaming, Orla tried to calm herself but she found it nearly impossible as she stared at the bounty hunter before her. Finally able to breathe again Orla dropped her hand away from her blaster, only for her brain to start screaming more, telling her this could still be a trap. She felt like she was going in circles. She couldn't process what she was seeing.

Finally getting herself to relax enough Orla took in a couple of steadying breaths before collecting her thoughts and speaking.

"Dad," she questioned, brows knitting together. Her knees started to shake as she continued to eye the man.

Giving a small tilt of his head the bounty hunter started to take cautious steps forward. Shaking her head in disbelief, Orla walked backward until her back was pressed against the wall.

Confused and on the verge of tears Orla reached for her blaster and drew it quickly. She knew this was an imposter, her father was dead. Killed many years ago by the Sarlac, leaving her to take care of herself and forge her own path in the world of bounty hunting. The only other explanation she could find was that she was also dead. That she had gone with Fennec and was killed in her sleep and as some cruel joke, the maker chose her and her father's resting place as Jabba's palace - the last place she had seen her father. 

Continuing to watch the man slowly approach, she studied the freshly painted armor. It didn't fit the man like it did her father, being a little tight in the gut, but the dent on the helmet told her it was indeed at least her father’s beskar. That dent had been there as long as you could remember. Orla had heard rumors not long after her father's death of his ghost walking around in the far parts of the planet but refused to believe it. Then she heard about how it was just a marshal who had found the beskar, using it for his own advantage. She pondered if this was that man, but couldn't think of any reason why he would be here and why he would have killed Fortuna.

Shaking her head Orla switched the safety off on her gun and lifted it, aiming at the man in front of her. No matter who this was it was not her father and she wasn't willing to let anyone take her life or get her father's armor.

"Take one more step and I'll shoot," she snarled through clenched teeth; her hand shaking just slightly from the adrenaline.

Stopping, the man raised his hands in surrender, letting them drift slowly to the helmet as if going to take it off.

Trembling, Orla clenched her jaw, unable to speak any further as she watched the man lift the helmet from his head. Time ticked by slowly, almost painfully as she waited for the man to reveal himself. When the helmet was completely removed and tucked under the man's arm Orla felt as if the wind was knocked out of her.

"My child," Boba whispered. He studied Orla, wide-eyed as he took in her face. "You've grown so much, little one."

Dropping her blaster Orla lifted a shaking hand to her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut; hot tears sliding down her face. The world started to spin as she continued to shake, her breathing becoming heavy and labored.

“This, this can’t be happening. Y- you were dead!” Snapping her head up she pointed a finger at her father. “You left me! You left me to fend for myself and promised you’d be back!” Taking the last couple steps towards Boba she pushed against his chest with both of her trembling hands, the sound of flesh hitting beskar echoing in the empty room.

Stumbling back Boba threw his free hand up in defense, allowing her a minute to process and sob.

Orla was so full of rage and anger she couldn’t tell if she was still shaking from the shock of seeing the man she thought was dead or because she was so furious he was alive all this time and didn’t come to find her.

Furious Orla gave out a shriek and started swinging at her father. Boba was quicker though, quickly stepping back to avoid her fist colliding with his face.

“Verd’ika…” Boba pleaded his own desperation and hurt seeping through.

Letting her fists fall to her sides Orla hung her head and sobbed. She had almost forgotten what her father's voice sounded like after all the years he was gone. The sounds of her nicknames rolling off his tongue were like a spear through the heart. It sent her body limp and every nerve on edge. But the desire for nothing more than to hug her father and beheld was stronger than her anger.

Rushing forward Orla threw her arms around her father, almost knocking him over. Dropping his helmet Boba threw his own arms around her, lifting her from the ground and burying his face into the padding on her shoulder as dust flitted around. The smell of her father overwhelmed her causing her to cry harder. Trying to inhale and catch her breath Orla clung closer to her father like she did when she would have a nightmare and he would be there to protect her.

Maybe that's all this was, she thought. A bad dream and she was just now waking up.

“My little girl,” Boba wept. “I’m so sorry. I should have come back sooner. Should have told you."

"Papa," Orla cried. "I'm just happy to see you. I can't believe you're here."

Setting Orla back down Boba took a step back and rested a hand on her shoulder.

"I was so scared, Orla. When I was tumbling down into the pit  I-I thought about nothing besides you and how I had failed you." Boba's lip trembled as he tried to hold back another sob, determined to be strong for his little girl.

Boba was a fierce man. Anyone could tell you that. He was a little rough around the edges and seldom let outsiders into his life - Fennec, Din, and Orla's mother's being the exceptions. When it came to his daughter though he would go to the ends of the galaxy for her. She was his entire life from the moment she arrived. A piece of him and a piece of the woman he once - and even now still- loved. She reminded him so much of himself when she was younger and when he was falling to his death he couldn't help but think about how he was leaving her, just like his father did. Since the day of the Sarlacc pit, the idea of leaving his daughter haunted home.

Reaching up Orla gently wiped the tears from her father's scarred cheeks. "But you're here now Papa. And I'm here. We're ok. It's gonna be ok."

Giving a wet and loving chuckle Boba pulled his daughter into another hug.

They stood there for a couple of minutes holding each other until their crying died. Father and daughter reunited again and both were determined to keep it that way.

"Sorry to break up family time," Fennec said from the hallway. "But Mando is back and I don't think it will do him good if he sees you crying from your little reunion."

Sighing heavily, Boba stepped back from Orla, giving her a smile and a soft pat on the cheek.

"Buir," Orla groaned playfully. "You haven't done that since I was a child."

"And every day I was away from you I wished I could do it again." Scoping up his helmet Boba set it back on his head. "Now come child, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

***

Meeting the Mandalorian was… interesting. When introduced to him by her father he gave a curt nod and nothing more. The rest of their meeting went with little talking. Her father gave him the credits he earned for his bounty, told him where to find his next one, and asked him how he was doing.

At her father's last question the Mandalorian hesitated before answering, his helmet turning to her for a brief moment before responding with a quiet "fine."

When the Mandalorian left the room Orla stood and looked down at her father.

"Seems like some great company. Reminds me of a certain someone." She said cheekily.

Sighing heavily Boba stood and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"You'll warm up to him while we are all here. The man's just been through a lot."

Frowning slightly Orlla raised her eyebrow. "While we are all here? What does that mean?"

"You work for me now little one. And you'll be staying here in the castle with all of us."

Scoffing, Orla brushed her father's hand away. "Working for you?"

"What, you think just because your father shows back up you don't have to work?"

Shaking her head Orlla leaned against the wall. "Well, I didn't ask to be a bounty hunter papa. There are other things I want to do in life. And I have my own home."

A low growl cake from Boba. "What do you possibly want to do in this life ad'ika?" His tone was sharp as he spoke. "You're a fantastic hunter from what I have heard and just because you are my child doesn't mean I'm gonna give that up."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Orla glared at her father. "I'm a great hunter because I had to be. Without you, it's all I had. It's not what I wanted at all. I want to be able to be me. Do things you never got to do properly and I know you longed forward. Like having a real family! To fall in love and not worry about losing them or my children! And you just came back! And you're gonna send me out on hunts? You of all people should know how dangerous that is!"

"Sorry to burst your bubble Orlla, but that's not how our lives work!" Boba's voice continued to rise in volume, causing Orlla to flinch away from him. "We'll never be the type of people to settle down and just enjoy the mundane things in life. I tried, and look at how that turned out for your mother! So if you want a family then you're gonna have a damn struggle of a time keeping them safe. And maker above, if that day ever comes I hope you're prepared to be fighting for the rest of your life, and whoever the bastard is that touches my daughter - so help me Orlla, it will not go well!" Sighing again Boba took a moment to try and cool himself. "As for the missions I know it's dangerous and the risks I'm running by sending you out there. That's why you're going with Mando."

"What?!" Orla yelled, throwing herself from the wall and storming towards her father. "If you wanna send me out then Ita best to tell you now, I work alone. I trust no one. Not even you right now. You taught me that! I'm an adult! I don't need some sort of babysitter! Or you telling me what I can and can't do with people!"

Lowering his head Boba stared at his daughter through the visor of his helm. "You're my daughter! My only family left Orla! I'm just trying to protect you! In and out of bounty hunting! And I've changed my opinion. At least when it comes to mando. So you're going with him on missions and that's final!"

Grinding her teeth together Orla set her piercing gaze on her father's helmeted face. She couldn't see it but she knew underneath his face was twisted with worry for her. "Fine. I get it. I won't argue. For now. Right now I'm tired physically, emotionally, and mentally. I haven't slept in a bed in I don't know how long. I haven't eaten anything today and I'm still trying to process everything. Let's talk more about this later?" Relaxing her gaze on her father softened, telling him she was done fighting.

Nodding his head in agreement, Boba looked towards Fennec in the doorway. "Show Orla to one of the rooms please so she may rest."

Turning, Fennec left down the hallway, leaving Orla to wander behind.

***

Sleeping was impossible. Tossing and turning in the unusual bed Orla replayed the events of her day in her head. The fact her father was alive and well - despite some gnarly scars and possibly some emotional damage - overwhelmed her. Everything she had known over the last five years was abruptly coming to a halt and she couldn't help the gut feeling that the actions of today were going to drastically change her life. She wasn't sure how but she knew they would.

The argument with her father wasn't how she wanted to say goodnight to her father but it was fitting. Before he left the last time she saw him they would constantly argue before he left for every mission. She didn't like it and it was stupid but it seemed to be their way of communicating with each other. It worked needlessly to say. They always heard the other out and usually came up with a middle ground where they could meet each other's requests. But this argument was different. Orla, much like her father, was not an open book. She didn't share her truest desires or feelings but seeing her father today set her emotions over the edge.

Groaning, Orla tossed over in bed looking at the chronometer on the wall.

4:34 am

"No use in sleeping," Orla grumbled.

Throwing the sheets off she climbed out of the bed and pulled on her slacks. Running her fingers through her hair yelping when she hit a knot, accidentally tugging on it. Giving up on her hair before even really trying to fix it she tucked her long unruly into the collar of her shirt, keeping it out of the way.

Shuffling her way down to the dining room the smell of freshly brewed caff welcomes her, pulling her towards her destination. Wondering if her father was already up by some miracle or perhaps he couldn't sleep either - neither of them were morning people - she rounded the corner into the dining area and was met with a surprising sight.

Standing at the counter pouring coffee was a man with luscious deep brown hair and soft tanned skin. He wore a gray old short sleeve and what appeared to be his flight suit pants. She couldn't see his face straight on but the tiniest bit of facial hair could be seen.

Gasping louder than she meant Orla realized it was the Mandalorian from earlier. Looking over to the table she saw his gleaming silver helmet staring back at her.

"Hi."

The single word filtered into her ears softly, causing her to whip her head back to the man.

Gawking she restudied the man. His eyes were gorgeous. A warm earthy brown that made it feel like summer was swimming around her. Ans his lips… she watched as he brought the mug up to his mouth, his lush lips kissing the rim as he drank.

"H-hi," she croaked.

Lowering the mug mando licked his lips before speaking. "I wasn't expecting anyone else to be up for a while."

"I couldn't sleep," she said sheepishly.

Nodding in understanding, Mando moved from the counter and sat at the table in the middle of the room.

Making her way across the dining room Orla grabbed her own mug and poured herself a cup of caff. She could feel the Mandalorian's gaze burning into her back as she rummaged around I'm she cupboards, trying to find the object she was looking for.

"If you're gonna stare can I at least get a name to address you besides Mando?" Reaching behind some cans of food she found want she was looking for. Standing she uncorked the bottle and dumped the contents into her coffee.

Turning to lean against the counter she looked at Mando who was still eyeing her.

"Isn't it a bit early to start drinking?

Rolling her eyes Orla took a drink of her caff; the hot liquid and burning of the alcohol warming her insides and helping her relax. "Not in this family. It's never too early. More like too late by the time you find the alcohol." Taking another drink she rolled her shoulders, leaning further into the counter. "So do I not get to know your name? I'd like to know something about the man I am going to be spending most of my time with."

"Din."

Curling her lip Orla gave a soft 'hmm'.

Looking away from Orla, Din stared down into his mug. "I get the impression you don't like me very much. Any particular reason? Or do I just have to go off of the information I heard between you and your father earlier?"

Flushing, Orla's gaze burned into the side of Din's face. "That's none of your business. And now that I know your eavesdropping on my conversations it just gives me reason not to trust you even more."

"Not really eavesdropping when the two of you shout at the top of your lungs," he mumbled under his breath.

Seething, and knuckles white from gripping the mug so tight Orla let out an annoyed snicker.

"I'm just saying," Din said with a shrug as he turned to look back at Orla. "Your dad is just trying to protect you. He's scared of losing you again."

"And how would you know that?" She snapped back. "You've been part of my father's life, what, maybe a week?"

"I know what it's like. To lose a child," Din admitted heavily.

"Oh." Relaxing Orla made her way to the table and sat across from Din. "I-I’m so sorry. I didn't realize you were a father."

Sighing, Din gave a weak smile. "It's ok. He was a foundling I saved from the empire. He's with his people now. If it wasn't for your father I don't know what would have happened to the kid."

Looking down into her mug Orla fought the tears that tried to spring from her eyes. Of course, after everything her father had been through with her grandpa, and thinking he lost his own daughter he would help another man save his child. Again, her father was tough but when it came to children the poor man turned into a softy.

"I'm glad your kids safe," she whispered. "However," she raised her eyes back up to look at him, "that still doesn't mean I fully trust you."

"Who says I don't trust you either?"

Smirking Orla brought her mug up to her lips once again with a smirk and a twinkle in her eye. "Touché."

Din and Orla sat in silence for the next hour, sipping coffee and spacing out. It wasn't until they heard footsteps down the hallway they perked up and looked at who it was.

"My own daughter, up before me?" Boba chucked before ruffling her hair.

"Couldn't sleep. Fresh caff is brewing. Alcohol is in the cabinet."

Smiling Boba made his way to the counter, coming back a moment later with a steaming cup of spiked caff.

"Taking It you couldn't sleep either mando?"

Shaking his head Din finished the last of his coffee.

"Well, sorry to say but we've all got work to do today."

Groaning, Orla stood from her seat, downing the last of her coffee. "I'll go get ready then."

Before she could leave the room though she felt a tug on her hair; pulling it free from the collar of her shirt.

"Ad'ika… what is this? Please don't tell me you let your hair be like this all the time while I was gone." Boba scolded.

Orla smiled sheepishly at her father. "I never learned to braid after you left. So I just put it in a ponytail or bun. But when it's down it gets tangled so easily. It's just so thick.

"Orla," Boba chided.

"Papa! I didn't have the energy to learn when you left! And I was gonna cut it off but I couldn't bring myself to do it…"

"You're just like your mother. And if I ever find out you cut off your hair it might be the actual death of me." Chuckling Boba guided his daughter back to her chair. "Now sit."

Groaning Orla plopped herself down into her seat, letting her father pull apart the tangles in her hair. 

"Your so dramatic buir."

"And you're not?"

Both chuckling Boba continued to gently separate her hair into strands, braiding them together and picking up pieces as he went.

Across from them, Din went unnoticed as he watched intently; learning how to braid.

*******************************************************************************************

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[snk-oc-guide]

ehhh hi i hope you do not mind reviewing my snk oc! I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes or something, English is not my first language.. thank you in advance~

Basics Name: Ida Hoffmann Age: 16 Years Birthday: May 8th, 834 Birthplace: Wall Maria; Shiganshina District Species: Human Gender: Female

Affiliation: Scouting Legion Grad. Rank: 18 Kill Count: 3 [ 2 Solo, 1 assisted]

Appearance Ida is a short girl standing at 151cm and weighing 50kg. She has short, brown hair which she always wears in a high ponytail. She has dark green eyes and slightly tanned skin.

rowan: okay, she has short hair but wears it in a high ponytail. i know some short hair can be pulled back (like ymir's) but i don't think a high pony tail would work, unless it's at least medium-length.

a small critique, but it would bother me if i didn't point it out lol

Personality Ida is a compassionate person and cares for other people much, up to that point that she tends to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong so she can keep a close eye on others. She also always tries to cheer up those who might be upset about something and does everything in her possibilities to make them bright up. She treats everyone as nice as she can and always wears a smile on her face. Ida is overconfident with her actions, thinks she can do a certain something but actually can’t in the end. If someone asks Ida for an opinion, she clearly shows how indecisive she is, which is her biggest problem. The reason for that is what happened in Shiganshina, the happenings put her in a state where she’s very unsure about her decisions, which also shows that she isn’t a good leader person. She is also not stubborn and easily gives in if other people want something from her. Her actions are unpredictable, she often surprises others with the things she says or does, and a quite annoying habit of hers is to make (stupid) jokes.

She is superficial and shortsighted, and doesn't pay enough attention to the details of something, which in the end makes her judge situations too quickly. That is why she notices too late if, for example, her comrades need her help. But since she cares deeply about her comrades she'd always attempt to save them. Having made terrible decisions during the battles of Trost, which almost got her comrades killed, this slowly starts to take a toll on her emotional health, that's why she always keeps a smile on her face, to hide how guilty she feels.

Likes: Drawing, she did that ever since she was a little child, her brother brought her to it. Sleeping in. Since her constant training doesn't give her quite many chances to sleep, and she really loves to sleep, she takes every chance she has to sleep, even going to sleep sooner than all the other cadets. She likes to gossip, a lot. She can't stay quiet and always is blabbering about something (even though it might not make much sense).

rowan: i find it peculiar she enjoys "gossiping" since that involves talking about other people and their personal affairs behind their back. since she is a kind and caring person, i can't see her enjoying something like that tbh

Dislikes: Making decisions. She takes too long to decide and most of the times the decisions she makes are not even good. Rain, snow, winter as it's too cold for her, she dislikes cold weather as she's cold easily. Snootiness, especially regarding the military police, she thinks the people in there are "smug assholes".

Abilities/Statistics Ida is not an outstanding soldier, but she always tries to improve herself and get better day by day. The only thing that is indeed mentionable is how well she can handle the 3DMG.

3DMG: 10/10 Hand-on-Hand Combat: 2/10 Battle Skill: 6/10 Initiative: 3/10 Wits: 3/10 Strategy: 2/10 Teamwork: 2/10 Spontaneity: 10/10

She always manages to figure out something rather creative and probably very risky in heat moments. In hand-on-hand combat especially, doing things that confuse the opponent so she gets to have her chance. E.g. she yells out suddenly something to irritate her opponent [ aka "Holy hell, look, there, in the sky!" ] and then tries to take him down.

rowan: if she is good at quick/random thinking like that, i would increase her wits a little bit and make it a 5. same with hand-to-hand combat. with the skill that low, it means she is such a lousy fighter than anybody good beat her, even if she uses sneaky tactics like trying to distract them. she could take a swing, and they wouldn't even budge lol

so i would make her combat skill a 4 at the least.

i feel like since she cares so much for her teammates, her teamwork skill should be higher since she would have no problem working with them. with it being low, it sounds like she isn't a team player at all. i would make it an 8. so her new stats would look something like this:

3DMG: 10/10 Combat: 4/10 Battle Skill: 6/10 Initiative: 3/10 Wits: 5/10 Strategy: 2/10 Teamwork: 8/10 Spontaneity: 10/10

Background She grew up rather normally in the Shiganshina district, having a loving mother caring about her as her father passed away before she was born. Ida was known in Shiganshina as the girl pestering people daily with her good mood and many many questions. Ida had a brother, Martin, who head off to the military, and graduated to later join the Stationary Guard, who was also a victim of Ida's curiousity about literally everything. Ida loved her brother really much, and saw him as a rolemodel and always told everyone how "cool and awesome" he was. Since Ida was a open-minded girl and friendly, she had many friends she'd hang out with outside daily.

Everything was quite fine until the day when wall maria got breached. Ida managed to survive that day, but had to watch how her own brother got eaten right before her eyes just because he wanted to save her from getting eaten. She managed to get to the saving gate eventually and as Ida glanced back at the district sitting in the refugee boat, and caught sight of the armored titan, she realized she would join the military just like her brother, to learn how to defeat titans and not just stand there doing nothing like that day. She wanted to revenge her brother and fulfill his wish he had told her right before he got eaten - survive.

rowan: you mention she had a caring mother, but make no other mention of her. did she die during the fall of wall maria?

Ida joined the 104th Trainees Squad in Trost two years later. She had her problems in the beginning, more than once standing on the edge of failing the training, yet she managed to stay strong and always would find a way to get through it, no matter how hard it was. She grew close to her comrades since she's really compassionate and always tried to help everyone with their problems.

As she was having to decide whether to join the Scouting Legion or the Stationary Guard, she was about to choose the Stationary Guard because she wanted to chose the same path as her brother, but then the wall got breached again. During the battles of Trost, Ida managed to kill one titan and she realized what she really wanted. She wanted to be finally free, and she knew the only possibility to become free was to join the Scouting Legion and try to find a way to erase these titans outside the walls. Surviving, she joined the Survey Corps in the end along the 21 of the 104th Trainees squad who chose to do so.

She had a strong change of heart. Martin's wish of course stuck in her head, and now she feels guilty because she basically broke that promise as the chance to die is rather high in the Survey Corps. In the end the prospect of helping humanity with joining the Survey Corps convinced her. She thinks if she's able to kill titans until her death, she'd really revenge her brother after all.

Relationships Close Friends: Sasha, Marco, Jean Friends: Armin, Reiner, Connie

Annemarie Hoffmann: Ida gets along well with her mother. When Ida was younger and used to have stupid ideas a lot her mother would often get mad at her but that never lasted very long. Since Ida's father died early, it was her mothers job alone to raise Ida and her brother, so they grew really close. Ida is glad to know her mother is save, though her mother isn't really fond of the idea that Ida chose to join the Survey Corps, which would cause an argument whenever they see each other. Despite that, Ida loves her mother deeply.

Martin Hoffmann: Ida used to call him the 'world's best brother'. Martin always cheered Ida up when she was upset and often protected her from her mothers' chastize. He is also the reason Ida never cried again just because he told her once to never do it again after she once had started crying when her mother was mad at her. They had a very loving and caring relationship, even though he used to tease her rather often.

Sasha Braus: It was clear on day one the two of them would get along well. Ida was immediately on a wavelength with her and Sasha was the one who'd always manage to make Ida genuinely laugh. Ida thinks it's cute how much Sasha loves food, and she'd usually spend her time around her. With time they build such a strong friendship that they could understand each other without words - You can just look at them and immediately say the two of them are best friends.

Marco Bott: Whenever Ida talked to Marco, he reminded her of her deceased brother. He was as equally nice, caring, and so refreshing to be around that she liked him immediately and cared for him and he ended up being Ida's best friend, though their friendship wasn't as close as his and Jean's. Ida was very shocked when she found out he was dead, which also brought her close to the edge of crying, but since she wanted to fulfill her brother's wish, to never cry, she didn't. She does get sad whenever someone mentions him.

Jean Kirstein: Since Ida used to hang around with Marco, it wasn't preventable to also stumble upon Jean. His attitude immediately interested her and soon she found herself developing a crush on him. She never told him though, as she didn't wanted to destroy their friendship. Still, both of them have a close friendship which built with time (And patience, the two of them argued so often [about mostly stupid things] they lost count). She envies him greatly for his leader capability and does see him in a leading position some time in the future. She's almost always blushing when she talks to him though. After Marco's death, the two of them got even closer. They build each other up, often teasingly and rely on each other, though he does get angry with her often because her traits remind him of the ones he used to have.

rowan: thank you for submitting your oc to us! ida seems like a pretty simple and well-rounded oc. with all her qualities, comes her flaws so i can see she is pretty realistic and balanced.

there were a few things i thought didn't add up, so you are welcome to take my advice or not!

[sahbibabe]

Hi! Can I request some headcanons for Crisis core Sephiroth where his fem s!o tries to comfort him and try to keep his emotional state together by telling him that he is human and a good one at that, when he finds out about his birth? I would like it to be fluff but you can make it out to be how you think Sephiroth would actually react? Thanks!

Oh, totally, hon! I'm super down for Sephiroth fluff, especially towards the incident that incited all of this in the first place! This got out of hand but I hope you enjoyed it! ♡

Sephiroth Headcanons

When he first discovers the truth of his origins, it's with a smidge of doubt in his mind--how could he go so long in life without figuring it out on his own? Either he was being lied to or it was just that: the truth. And the truth hurts.

Once he realizes that a lot of his life has never made sense--the mysterious lack of struggle, the bizarre circumstances that had made him into a SOLDIER--he knows that he's not human. He's even less than that, a half breed made in a test tube and released on the world as an experiment.

He doubts his friends, if he could even call them that now. Did they know? Did they befriend him purposely to get closer to him, to chart his reactions and emotional aptitude for Hojo? He doesn't know, doesn't want to ask them either, or if they didn't know, they would certainly know when he eventually did ask.

His options limited, he returns to a place where he knows he is welcomed, is safe: your arms. He had never taken you up on the offer to drop by during his lunch break--which was when all of this had been dropped on him--and spend some time with you while he wasn't busy.

He stopped just shy of your apartment door, fist hovering over the metal door hesitantly. Would you hate him, as well? Would you see him as less than human, like he saw himself? Would you sneer at him in disgust and turn him away? Would you shout at him, scream at him in terror? Thousands of possibilities ran through his mind. Combined with the new knowledge that he was a spawn of Jenova, he was an absolute storm cloud of anger and troubled thoughts, and it showed on his face.

He allowed himself to knock, ready to have the door slammed in his face and return to his quarters at Shinra--did he even want to?--and heard your bright, panicked call of,"Coming! Just hold on!"

When you jerked the door open, smelling faintly of tomato sauce and basil, as if you had been cooking, you turned that thousand watt smile on him. It made his heart--if that even was what it was anymore--hurt that you would eventually come to your senses once he told you what he truly was.

"Seph!" You chirped happily, his nickname like a sledgehammer over his head. You grabbed his arm gently and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind you. "I was just making some spaghetti. Would you like some?"

He didn't think he could stomach food right now. His nerves were shot like frayed wires. "No thank you. I'm fine."

You paused, pretty [color] eyes dancing over his face. Ignoring the steady beeping of your stove top, you reached up and placed a hand on his cheek, smoothing out the tight muscles of his jaw. "What is it? Did something happen?"

He hated that you were so perceptive of his moods and tics, for once. He had wanted you to be oblivious, to leave him and finish cooking and return, and proceed to become sickened by his very existence.

"Nothing." He reached up and covered your hand with his own, squeezing your fingers softly. "Go and finish your food. I think it's burning."

It wasn't, but you knew a redirect when you saw one. He didn't want to talk about it just yet. His eyes, those gorgeous green-blue orbs, were unfocused, hazy with emotional pain and trauma. You had only seen him like this once before, when you had been hurt badly during Sector Six's plate crashing down. Since then you had been living in Sector One, safe from falling plates, but that hadn't stopped him from pulling out all the stops to keep you safe.

"Alright," you sighed, patting his chest comfortingly. You wouldn't push it. "Why don't you wait on the couch? I'll be done as soon as I get the noodles out."

He nodded almost imperceptibly. You smiled at him and returned to the stove top, humming as you brought a pot of water to a boil and dumped your pasta noodles in.

While he waited, he tried to organize his thoughts, moving to stand over near the balcony. You had wanted to be at least in sight of the reactors, claiming that the bright color reminded you of his eyes. That night had been when you were in the hospital, drugged up and as high as a kite, holding his hand and letting your mouth run miles a minute.

You, fortunately, remembered none of it, but he did. He kept a few of those remarks close to his heart, even if you weren't entirely there when you said them. Things like,"You're such a sweetheart, I could just suffocate you with my love," or the one that had the nurse laughing,"Hey, Seph, I totally need you to marry me so we can make little super babies. Please?"

The thought of children immediately made his somewhat lifted mood drop. Children. If you had children, they would never be completely human. They would be some part of Jenova--or Cetra, or whatever he was--a mismatch of different genetics. What if they came out with red eyes? Blue skin? Pale hair?

In the midst of his dark mood and thoughts, you returned, gently placing a bowl of spaghetti out for him even though he hadn't wanted any. You waved him over to sit beside you, a giant smile on your face.

When he sat down and it wasn't beside you, but at as an uncomfortable distance as he possibly could manage, your smile faded into a frown of concern. "Sephiroth? What is it?"

He was quiet for a few moments, running different situations through his head, but eventually decided to rip the bandaid off before he got too used to it. He couldn't stand seeing you there, oblivious to what he was and under a false pretense that he was a human. He was a monster and you deserved to know.

"I'm not human."

You listened with wide eyes as he began explaining what he had found, where he had heard it from, and that it was true: his test results, his blood, even his organs were different at least on a molecular level. You had put down your bowl of spaghetti at least an hour ago, absorbed in his story, and hesitated in going to him. In comforting him. What if he didn't want it?

He took your hesitation as something else. "I'll go now. I understand if you wouldn't want to be with a monster."

You sputtered, eyebrows drawing into angry furrows as he stood up and walked towards the door. You grabbed a fist full of the black straps keeping his armor on and hauled him back with as much strength as you could muster. He stumbled back, surprised, and you gripped his face between both of your hands.

"You're not a monster, Sephiroth. You're as human as anyone in this city." You could see the doubt in his eyes, the hardness that you had come to relate with him walling himself off. You pressed your forehead to his, noses barely touching. "No, you're more than human. You're one of the best humans I've ever had in my life. You laugh. You cry; I've seen you in your sleep. Monsters don't cry, honey. And... you love me, don't you? Monsters can't love. And I love you. It doesn't matter that you were made in a lab. What does matter is that you ended up here, with me, in a world that loves you. Everything else is just semantics."

He watched as you continued your passion fueled speech, face turning red with exertion, and he didn't know why he had been so worried about you hating him before. How could someone who was spilling their heart out before him hate him, knowing the truth of what he was?

"And Hojo can burn in the depths of hell for all I care! Who does that?! Holds a man's origins from him and tells him everything he's ever known is a lie?! Actually, you know what, give me your keycard!" You fumed, fumbling for his lapel where he kept his Shinra access card. "I'm going to give that asshole an ass kicking he'll never see coming!"

"[Name]," Sephiroth rumbled, his voice soft. You paused, looking up into his eyes, and found that the self hatred and doubt was subdued, buried under the shining beacon that you could only say was appreciation. "Thank you."

"What for?" You asked, a giant red blush creeping up your neck and face, redder than the one that had formed in your tirade. "I'm just telling you what I know to be true. Forget Hojo's truth. You can use mine."

Before he could properly say that he loved you, your stomach growled. You groaned and buried your face in his neck in shame. "We can talk about this later. You need to eat."

You moved your head and rolled your eyes so he could see, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips before releasing the tight grip you had on his leather straps. "Come on. I'll eat and then we can spend the next few days together. No Shinra stuff."

"No Shinra stuff," he agreed.

When you had finished eating and the sun lamps had dimmed, you tugged him towards your room, divesting him of his armor, citing,"Armor isn't good for cuddling, Seph, you know."

In the middle of the night, when you had fallen asleep in his arms after making sure to tell him everything you loved about him that made him human, punctuated by kisses to his face or lips or whatever you could reach, he watched your eyebrows furrow as you dreamed.

You had enough humanity for the both of you, he decided, closing his eyes to the neon glow of the mako reactor. That was enough for him.

It had to be.

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

We Care, But At What Price?

Summary: Sequel to "We Care Not". As Hiccup lies sick in bed, the other Riders reflect a little on the past they share with him and how overly protective they are of him now.

Rating: Teen and up

Words: 2 482

Author’s Notes: Sequel that was written quite a while ago, but never posted. Might take this idea to dabble with it in a different fic someday.

Constructive criticism is appreciated.

Enjoy!

We Care Not (The first fic)

Ao3

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"This is stupid. This is so, so stupid."

Astrid finds herself shushing Hiccup's shaky mumblings as she dabs his forehead with a soaked cloth. It is sweaty and she can feel the heat radiating through the layer separating her hand and his skin.

Hiccup is lying in bed before her on a stack of furs and blankets, all gathered from the other Riders. He wears only a single layer of clothing in spite of the cold Winter plaguing the Edge. His armor hangs forgotten on the back of a chair on the ground floor.

"I should be out there doing patrols or think of something to stop Viggo, not be stuck here in bed." There is a certain resentment in his tone that Astrid doesn't quite appreciate, she resists the urge to demand that he apologize to himself.

That kind of anger, she knows it is directed at only one man in this room and, besides her, the single other presence here is Toothless and Astrid is certain Hiccup can never be mad at him.

Her free hand is held in both of his own on his stomach.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. It's just a fever." She tries to tell him and Toothless rumbles in agreement. The Night Fury is taking up all the space on one side of the bed. Ever since his Rider has fallen ill, he hasn't left much. He worries.

"I shouldn't be having a fever. I'm not a kid anymore, I shouldn't be getting sick every Winter." Still Hiccup argues, his voice cracks. Even with the fire warming his hut, his woolen tunic, the dragon, and the covers, he shivers terribly.

He doesn't get sick as often as he used to when he was a growing boy, but when he does this always happens. The times Hiccup does fall ill, he falls hard.

Astrid sighs when she hears his comment. Indeed, the Winters here in the Archipelago are never kind to Hiccup. If he isn't sick, then the cold is taking its toll on his leg or some other old injury of his. And then there is also Devastating Winter.

"It's okay to get sick, Hiccup. You wouldn't be giving us such a bad time if we were stuck in bed." That shuts him up, at least. He can't argue with her about that, he knows she is right.

Instead, Hiccup lets his eyes fall closed. He sniffs, his nose is clogged. His cheeks feel so unbearably hot.

Astrid will never admit it to him out loud, but she does find herself worrying during the coldest seasons on Berk. Devastating Winter especially. It wasn't given this name for no reason.

If there is a season cold enough to keep even the Hooligans of Berk indoors for days or weeks at a time, cold enough to keep even the dragons inside, it is certainly that. Before the Edge, whenever she was stuck inside, Astrid would often find herself guilty of sitting around and worrying about Hiccup.

She often wondered as she sat there sharpening her dagger at the fire, was he lying sick in bed? As she ate dinner with her family, was Stoick trying to get some food into his ill son in the meantime? As she checked up on Stormfly, was Toothless watching over his Rider day and night?

Every time Devastating Winter allowed Berk to set foot outside again, it was a relief to her to see him alive and well.

Oddly enough, it wasn't a concern she ever had for the other Riders. And not because she didn't care for them, because she did and a lot more than she let on.

Grabbing the pitcher standing on a stool next to her, Astrid notices that it is empty. Time to grab some more water.

"I'm going to get some more water. I'll be right back." She tells Hiccup, even though he probably isn't conscious anymore, judging by his calm breathing. He may have dozed off.

Which is a good thing, he needs his rest and his body demands it. She lets him sleep.

Astrid briefly scratches Toothless behind an ear fin and walks down from their loft with the pitcher in hand. Downstairs, she meets with the other Riders, who are all gathered in Hiccup's hut.

There is a snowfall going on outside and so it is warmer to stay inside. She knows even the Dragons are huddled together over at their stables. She also knows that there is only one reason why the others are here and it isn't quite because of the weather.

Fishlegs is reading at the table and so is Tuffnut, though the latter isn't as into it as the former is. His face is lying on it. Ruffnut and Snotlout are playing Maces and Talons in one corner, though neither of them are all that interested in their game either.

As Astrid comes down, Fishlegs looks up.

"Is he sleeping?" He asks, putting his book down.

"Yeah, he is." She answers and makes her way over to a barrel with water. Opening the top, she lowers the pitcher into it to bring back up with her.

Ever since Hiccup fell sick two days earlier, he's been drifting in and out of sleep. He is feverish, he is coughing almost continuously, but he is, at the very least, not delirious. So far, his mind remains untouched by the fever. A good sign, they all figure.

Silence returns, but as she ascends back up the stairs, Astrid can't help but notice that the pieces on the board game Ruff and Lout are playing with are no longer being moved.

Returning up to the loft, Toothless greets her with a purr and Astrid gives him a small smile. She replaces the pitcher on its original spot next to the empty mug and then grabs the cloth she'd left on Hiccup's forehead.

Dipping it into the bowl of water standing on that same stool, Astrid stops mid-action when she hears movement. Out of the corner of her eyes, she notices him rolling onto his side away from her. He lets out a deep sigh followed by more coughing. Hiccup nuzzles into his pillow and settles again for the time being.

Astrid relaxes, she isn't even aware she tensed up. Wetting the cloth again, she wrings it out a bit and places it on his temple instead.

"Toothless, I'm going downstairs. You'll watch over him, won't you?" Though she knows she doesn't even need to ask, Toothless still gives her a croon before placing his head down on the bed to fix his gaze on his Rider as Astrid joins the others again.

Ruffnut watches her descend, a frown present on her face. Snotlout doesn't seem to mind that he needs to wait on her next move.

The quiet continues until Astrid takes a seat at the table where Fishlegs and Tuffnut are already sitting at.

She waits. She knows there is something Ruffnut wants to talk about the moment she stops playing her game with Snotlout.

Astrid even sits down on the chair with her front facing the other and looks at her. It is her way of asking "what's up?"

"It's weird, right?" Ruffnut starts now that Astrid has taken a seat. Snotlout, Fishlegs, and Tuff all look at her.

"We know Hiccup's gonna be just fine. He's pretty much indestructible at this point anyway. And yet..." Her voice trails off.

"We're still worried to death?" Snotlout finishes for her.

"Yeah, Fishlegs even says he's doing better than yesterday," Tuffnut speaks up as well and Fishlegs nods to confirm it. Hiccup is already on the mend.

"He should be back up on his feet soon."

"And yet..." Snotlout mutters. His eyes briefly travel up to the loft, though he can't see Hiccup.

Standing back up again, Astrid makes her way to the back of the hut, where most of Hiccup's stuff is kept. She can feel the eyes of the other Riders on her.

Toothless' several different prosthetic tailfins are hanging on that wall, but for as much of an eyecatcher as they are, Astrid's attention is only on one chest.

"What're you doing?" Snotlout asks, his chin resting on the table in front of him.

"Searching for something Hiccup can do? Something to lighten the mood." Astrid replies, crouching down in front of the chest and opening it up. She briefly rolls her eyes at how disorganized it is and begins to search through it. Within seconds she still finds what she is looking for, despite the mess inside.

It is a little book he uses for his sketches. Or rather, one of the many he uses that way. Hiccup went through a lot of them in just one year.

Flipping it open, she wants to see if this one hasn't been filled in yet. Something instantly strikes her as odd, however.

The drawings inside of this one were made by a kid.

They are still good. Very good. And the only conclusion Astrid can come to is that these are Hiccup's from when he was still very little and he kept them. So Hiccup is someone who can get a little nostalgic, who knew?

Struck by nostalgia herself, she keeps looking through them, sitting down on the wooden floor. She is engrossed. Many of them look vaguely familiar to her.

She halts when she comes upon one particular drawing in the book.

Astrid remembers having a dear friend once. She is reminded of her now, of little Unn that never got to grow up, as she stares at what appears to be a hand-drawn portrait of a little girl with baby blue eyes and shoulder-length black hair.

Though this had clearly been drawn by a very young individual, she can recognize these strokes from anywhere. This one had been drawn by Hiccup, too. A long, long time ago. Gods, she never knew he still had any of these. Let alone this one.

He drew this when they were... What? Four? Five years old? They are both eighteen now. How has he managed to keep these for so long?

Astrid stares quietly at the picture. A dull aching makes its way into her chest and there is a hitch in her breath, her eyes are wet. She hasn't thought of her childhood friend in a long while.

"Hey, I know her." Astrid didn't expect anyone to be standing behind her, but she doesn't jump when Snotlout speaks up out of the blue.

He kneels next to where she is sitting and Astrid allows him to take a look.

"She's-um... Ugh, what's her name."

"Unn. She was..." Astrid helps him remember, but she doesn't get much farther beyond that. It is strange, she didn't have any problem saying it before. Why is it suddenly so hard?

"One of the ones that didn't make it." Snotlout returns the favor and finishes that thought for her.

"Yeah." She takes the book back when he hands it to her. She can hear footsteps approaching.

"Oh man, talk about a blast to the past," Ruffnut mutters, her hands on her hips.

Taking a glance over her shoulder, Astrid sees that Tuffnut and Fishlegs are there as well.

"Are there any others?" Fishlegs asks hopefully. It is the timidest he has sounded in a long while.

Astrid briefly skims through the rest of this particular sketchbook and she shakes her head. There are no more.

"Should we check if any of Hiccup's other old notebooks are in there?" Snotlout asks and for once he isn't suggesting looking through someone else's stuff just for the fun of it.

"Guys, I was only looking in here to give Hiccup something to do next time he wakes up. You know how antsy he can get when he's stuck in bed for too long. I'm not randomly looking through his stuff." Is Astrid's reply when a simple "no" would've sufficed.

"Yeah, I know. I was just curious, you know." Snotlout shrugs in response. He is uncharacteristically muted today, as they all are.

It is quiet for another moment before Ruffnut speaks up again. Astrid almost feels compelled to look at the picture of her friend again.

"It brings you back, doesn't it?" She asks her friends, her tone solemn.

"So many of us didn't make it." Fishlegs happens to mention and saying it out loud somehow makes their mood even more dreary than it already is. If that is at all possible.

"I've never really thought about it before, but there are a lot of kids on Berk now. Compared to... You know." Tuffnut reminisces quietly.

"Before the war ended," Ruffnut adds and her brother nods.

It was such a change, one that happened so slow and yet so fast. With how lively Berk is now, it is sometimes hard to remember what it was like before the dragons had come to live with them, before the one responsible for so much heartbreak had been dethroned. And this change, they all know who was responsible for it.

The Riders are all quiet for another moment of reflection. They are all thinking of the same person.

It is odd. Sometimes they still have moments in which they just look at each other and ask "why did we ever dislike this guy?" as soon as Hiccup leaves the room.

"Why weren't we friends before?"

"Why did it take us so long?"

The past three years of friendship did muddle their memories just a tad bit, but this brings it all right back.

They used to dislike Hiccup because he was the weird one. They disliked him because the adults did. They disliked him because he was sure to be the next one to leave them.

And now look at them.

Hiccup is upstairs in bed suffering from an illness he has had before and would recover from again. He is doing fine. He is angry at himself, but otherwise, he is doing just fine.

And yet, they worry. They worry so much they spent most of the last two days here in his hut. The evening of the third day is drawing near.

Upstairs, Hiccup starts coughing and it doesn't let up for a good couple of seconds.

"I'm fine, Bud." The coughing fit wakes him up and the Riders hear Hiccup reassure his dragon, but still, Fishlegs is already running up the stairs just to make sure if there isn't any help that he may need.

"Fish-Fishlegs? Fishlegs, I'm fine! It was just a cough, I'm fine." The rest of them, still on the ground floor, relax again.

Look at how much has changed.

When they were kids, they were afraid to care and their effort not to had lead to them barely caring for him at all. Now that they finally do, they are too afraid to lose him.

[deltas-writing-corner]

Warmth: Act 1 - 3

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Disclaimers: This is only the first 1000 words of the chapter. If you would like to read the rest, click here!

Warnings:  Mentions of blood, death, and bodily injuries after the second break (none of these are present in this preview, but they will be in the full version)

Masterlist: (coming soon)

Many of the people of Azuchi were taken back over your sudden change of demeanor. You were still a diligent worker and held the same aura of maturity that came with being alive for nearly 3 centuries (not that they knew that). There was a liveliness to you that was not there when you first arrived three weeks ago. Many of the maids questioned why you were in such a good mood all of a sudden. You brushed them off by saying that you were just feeling more comfortable in Azuchi.

Many of them were so relieved to hear that. You didn't realize how worried they were of you. Your grandmother was the most worried of them all. She knew how damaged and scared you were the moment she saw you. You found yourself being squeezed like you've never been before. For an old lady, she sure was strong!

"And I thought Hideyoshi's worrying was overbearing," you huff out.

She lets go of you and smacks you on the arm, "Of course I'm going to worry! You're all dear to me, especially you. But don't tell the others I said that."

You give her a grateful smile and pull her into a hug of your own. She sinks into your warm embrace and she begins to softly sob. You rub her back in circular motions and tell her, "I'm proud to call you my grandmother.”

She cries even harder, but not without giving you another hard slap on the arm.

______________________________________________________________

While Kuro was out doing more surveying, his voice breaks your concentration from sewing to inform you of one of the warlords coming to retrieve you. Apparently, Nobunaga ordered that you attend the war meeting that is being held later today. You didn't believe it for a second, calling him out for coming up with such a poor joke. It wasn't until Masamune entered the seamstress workshop, clad in full armor and informing you he had been sent to retrieve you that convinced you that he wasn't joking.

"Why on earth does he want me to attend?" you questioned out loud. Your eyes search back and forth for Kuro as you walk down the engawa. If you were going to attend a meeting on such short notice, you needed your most trusted ally with you.

Your confusion was apparently amusing to him, as he playfully explains, "You're our goddess of victory. We need you if we want to win, right?"

Goddess of victory. That's cute, and actually wrong by the way. It's goddess of healing, thank you very much!

It is then that you take notice of Masamune's demeanor. He was practically shaking in anticipation. His hands are already clutching the hilts of his two blades, ready to draw them at a moment's notice. He must be excited over the idea of going to war. You found the idea of a person enjoying bloodshed disgusting. Even if you were told that conflict is the last thing many in Azuchi would wish for or resort to, you suppose there would be a rare few amongst them who looked forward to battle.

You spot Kuro near the entrance of the meeting room. You bend down and help situate him around your neck, running a hand down his scaly body to give yourself a bit of comfort. Masamune notices your movement and turns back to you. He perks up when he notices your companion wrapped around your neck. "There's the little guy! I haven't seen you since Honno-ji." Masamune reaches out, presumably to pet Kuro. The snake lunges at him and barely knicks his hand. He doesn't break skin, but the sudden action startles Masamune enough to retract his hand. He doesn't get mad or even scared. He merely laughs off the deadly bite like it was a friendly gesture. "Yep, still a fiesty one. I guess I'll have to spend a lot of time with your master in order to gain your trust."

Neither of you liked the idea of such a wild man being around you for an extended period of time. Kuro asks if he could bite him for real this time. You tell him no, but give him permission to squirt venom at the so-called “One-eyed Dragon” all he wants.

Masamune slides open the door to the meeting room. He ushers you in and you both approach the dais where Nobunaga patiently waited. You both bow before him before you find your place amongst the uniformly lined cushions. Your spot was right in between Mitsunari and Ranmaru. You share a quick greeting with each of them before Nobunaga's baritone voice commanded everyone's attention towards him.

"Everyone is here, good. You all know why you've been summoned."

You look around the entire room. Everyone present was armed to the teeth. It was intimidating to say the least, and you were a god with a venomous snake, who was also a god, with you. Kuro sees your growing worry and gives you a slap on the back of your head with his tail. You apologize to him for getting distracted and refocus your attention on Nobunaga.

He wickedly grins down at all of you. "The Tiger of Kai and the Dragon of Echigo have returned from the dead to challenge me."

Mitsunari notices your confused expression. He leans over and whispers, "The Tiger of Kai is Shingen Takeda and the Dragon of Echigo is Kenshin Uesugi. They're Nobunaga's greatest foes that we thought to be dead years ago. They controlled most of the east and south until now."

You thank him with a subtle nod.

"Our reports state that they're already on the march and are heading towards our garrison on the eastern border," Hideyoshi states. "Their troops number just under 10,000. Less than what they'd need for a full blown invasion."

10,000 lives at stake. Surely the number of men they'll send out will be double that.

Nobunaga isn't at all worried. In fact, he seems intrigued over the information presented. "Then this is but a greeting? A bloody handshake from the battle-crazed god of war?"

Ok, now that was priceless...

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[reynesofcastamere]

Thrown Gauntlet[Ω]

(A/N: Sooooo....I’ve decided to start another series of fics that I will be marking with [Ω] in the titles: To disinguish them from both the main series (which I am still working on) and the [β] drabbles (which are all over the place in terms of timeline, setting, universe, etc.). Essentially a very self-indulgent AU where Savage, Maul, and Feral all get adopted by Clan Wren. This installment takes place in 20 BBY, so Ahsoka is around 16 and Maul is about 34. However. I want to state outright that the dynamic is intended to be a verrrrry slow build and that nothing romantic and/or sexual will be occurring between Maul and Ahsoka until MUCH later. If what I’ve described does not sound like your personal cup of tea, then by all means, feel free to give this fic and/or series a pass. This is getting a bit long, so to sum up: No trigger warnings, Obi-Wan is an Incurable Flirt, Rex is Flustered, and Maul is about 100% Done With Everyone’s Nonsense. Unbeta’d)  The Jedi Temple is buzzing. Not literally, of course, but Ahsoka can feel a strange vibration in the Force. Excitement, or maybe irritation? There’s definitely quite a bit more whispering amongst her fellow Jedi and the clone troopers she passes on her path to the east hangar. Master Anakin had told her to pack for a long trip, which she can only assume means they’ve been assigned another mission and he’s withholding the details so as to ‘surprise’ her appropriately. Typical Skyguy.

She spots Rex near the door, sans helmet. “Good morning, Captain.” A proper salute, quickly returned, though her tone is light. “Morning, Commander. And-er, yes, it certainly is.” He actually seems to be fidgeting a bit, and his face- “Rex, are you...blushing?” “N-no. No. Just-ah...Finished up my workout routine. Took more out of me than I expected. You know how it is; One day you’re all shiny-new and the next you feel older than General Yoda.” “Reeeeexxxx....Come on, whatever it is can’t be that bad.”

“The Clawbirds arrived about an hour ago. Captain Wren’s refusing to do much of anything until he finishes repairs on General Skywalker’s ship.” Rex caves, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Master Anakin can’t be too happy about that.” Ahsoka observes, knowing just how...particular he is about his personal projects. “Should I be worried?” “Er...maybe? It’s kind of a toss-up. Depends on whether M-” He begins, before a subtler voice cuts in. “Captain, there you are. I was hoping to speak to you.” The speaker is a male Zabrak with soft golden-yellow eyes and skin, the latter of which is liberally patterned in brown markings. Unusual enough, but he’s also clad in full Mandalorian armor, helmet tucked under one arm and carrying what looks like field medic gear along with the standard jetpack and arsenal of weapons. And he’s glowing; a defined Force signature radiating Light and positive energy like a solar lamp. How-? “Medic Sergeant Wren. They are still getting along, right?” “Oh yes. He’s in a much better mood than last time. Apologies, am I interrupting?” “Thank the Maker. And no, um. Commander Tano, this is Medic Sergeant Feral Wren.” Rex looks like he’s in danger of heatstroke with how red he’s gotten. It’s not hard to see why, especially when Feral gives a smile that could melt half the ice on Bahryn. Rather than salute her, he stretches his right hand out so that they can clasp forearms briefly, a greeting from one warrior to another. “It’s a pleasure, Medic Sergeant.” She smiles back. Ahsoka can’t help it. He’s just...She’s fighting the urge to hug him like some kind of stuffed animal toy. Which is bizarre and will most definitely not be happening anytime soon. “Tano...Oh, you must be ‘Snips’. It’s almost a shame Savage volunteered to help the younglings train, we’ve both wanted to meet you for some time now.” Wait, what? “Tranyc’vod [Sunny(star-burned) brother] Anakin hasn’t been able to call as often, but he’s very proud of your accomplishments.” Feral remarks, genuinely pleased even as her head spins with the implications. Her Master has a lot of explaining to do. “Speaking of which, I’d better not keep him waiting much longer. I look forward to talking to you again, though. See you later, Captain. Maybe you should ask the Medic Sergeant about those stamina issues you’re having?” She can’t resist ribbing Rex as she departs, watching him splutter as Feral, like any good medic, starts making inquiries about his ‘condition’ while looking him over. And placing a hand on his chestplate, apparently. Huh. Maybe her friend’s obvious crush isn’t quite as one-sided as she’d thought. Ahsoka navigates her way through the semi-organized rows of ships. Even if Anakin’s presence in the Force wasn’t abnormally strong, she doesn’t need to focus to find him. Not when he’s talking loud enough to be heard across half the hangar. “-last time, it’s fine! You’re just being paranoid, as usual.” “Every ship I have been forced to borrow from you has either crashed, suffered a critical malfunction, or was confined to the scrap heap mere hours after landing. No one is setting a foot on this poorly-constructed death trap until I am absolutely certain it won’t spontaneously combust mid-flight.” And that must be Captain Wren. He sounds...irritated, to say the least.

“My ships run perfectly, thanks. Must hurt that Mando pride, knowing a Jedi is a better pilot and mechanic than you, Captain.” She’s not quite within visual range yet, but she knows her Master is smirking. “How sad that as a Jedi, you cannot recognize your own failings, General. Perhaps you should conduct a survey of your ‘victims’ instead of this poor attempt at distraction. Mir’osik adiik be’kyorla hut’uun![Dung for brains child of (a) rotten coward!]-” “Ouch. What, did one of your horns get caught in the hydraulics?” “Hilarious. Make yourself useful by grabbing a towel, or something from Kenobi’s closet. I’m coming out.” “Ah, Captain Wren. I thought the general ambience had improved. What were you saying about my clothing?” She hadn’t been aware of Master Kenobi’s presence before this. Either he’d used a secondary entrance or had been waiting for his chance to join the exchange while the captain was busy. “Kenobi.”

“Oh come now, surely you can muster a more polite greeting than that. You’ve been away so long I’ve had to listen to recordings just to remember the sound of your lovely voice.” “Perhaps I will address you with respect when you learn to stop leering at me, besom [ill-mannered lout].” “Busted. Again.” “You’re not helping, Anakin.” Ahsoka rounds a corner and-Oh. Wow. How far down do those-? She blinks a few times, just to be sure of what she’s seeing. Yep, there is a very shirtless Zabrak with the kind of muscle definition that would make scores of artists weep standing with his back to her and wiping his face off with a towel. She desperately hopes that her jaw is not hanging open as he turns his head to survey her with one vibrant yellow tourmaline eye. She honestly doesn’t know if she wants to draw closer or back away in that moment. His presence in the Force is not a benevolent, harmless light, but rather a controlled fire that sparks and issues dark threads of smoke. This...Ahsoka doesn’t understand what is going on, and it’s starting to make her uncomfortable. “The spy finally shows herself.” He remarks, assessing and dismissing her as a non-threat within the span of a few seconds, continuing to wipe off whatever type of mess had been spattered on him. “Don’t mind him, Snips. Someone shoved a shock baton up his ass years ago and the medics never found a way to pull it out. Tragic, really.” Anakin Skywalker grins, arms loosely folded across his chest and leaning against the outside of his ship. “Ahsoka, this is Maul. We’ll be working with him and his people for the forseeable future.” It clicks suddenly where she’s heard both his name and that of his group before: Captain Maul of Clan Wren and his company are the only Mandalorian supercommandos who will actually work with the Jedi Council. At least, when they’re not busy with bodyguard or mercenary jobs. Part of that involves what is referred to -with some awe and a lot of fear- as ‘running the gauntlet’, a mandatory training course for any Padawans or Knights posted to or intending to spend a considerable amount of time in the barely-civilized regions of space. It’s been suspended since the war started in earnest, but if they’re going to be sticking around for a while...Well, the implications are pretty serious. And Ahsoka has somehow managed to ogle one of the most infamous hardasses this side of the Mid Rim. Fantastic. Really. Maul disposes of the stained towel and turns to face her properly, Ahsoka’s gaze staying determinedly on his face as they grip each other’s right forearms. He doesn’t pull back after a few seconds as Feral had, hand locking in place as he seems to peer into her soul.  “I will say this once. We are not like our evaar’la vod’e[young brothers]. We are not subservient to you, and I do not accept excuses or blatant disrespect.” A pause and a slight increase in pressure, just below the threshold of inflicting pain. “Are you ready, Ahsoka Tano?” “Yes, Captain.” She answers with a certainty that she can feel in her very bones, and is rewarded with the hint of a wry smile when he lets go. Well that’s...something. Master Kenobi clears his throat pointedly. Right. Mission briefing first. Sort out her feelings later. Still, she can’t help but look forward to whatever comes next. (A/N: *cracks knuckles* Well, that’s the first installment. A little vague on the details, but I’m hoping to elaborate on what’s been hinted at here relatively soon. The name of the supercommando company comes from the Legends novel Maul:Lockdown by Joe Schreiber. And yes, for fellow Rebels fans who are reading this thing: In this AU, Sabine and Tristan get three badass Zabrak-hybrid uncles and a fair amount of adopted cousins. (Which is entirely Savage’s doing.) I do believe that Anakin is a gifted mechanic, but also couldn’t resist the running joke of ‘Skywalker’s ships/anything he tinkers with only work for him and Artoo’. Cheers!)