#mostly some observations and thing learned right off the bat.

[doodle-pops]

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆You Have Heterochromia Eyes

Headcanons: Curufin, Argon, Finarfin, Egalmoth, Thingol and Beleg

A/N: First of the event to go up. Been thinking of doing one with reader having starry eyes, but that’s an idea for another time. Enjoy!

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Curufin

Known for his keen senses, the moment you entered the room, he was able to distinguish the difference in your aura from everyone else, and it was all because of your eyes.

“Your eyes are quite captivating,” he remarks as he stares into your orbs, wondering which to focus on. His inquisitiveness causes him to slightly lean into your space to gain a closer look.

Of course, you respond informing him that your eyes were more unusual than captivating. To which he shuts down politely, informing you that ‘unique’ and ‘majestic’ were the proper words to describe your eyes.

Curufin usually finds it impossible to leave your side, wanting to learn all that he can from you while gazing off into your eyes and getting lost as the conversation continues. He finds it difficult to remain focused, especially when you meet his eyes with an equal stare. “Which eyes should I stare into today?”

As a way of appreciating your eyes, he doesn’t waste a moment launching himself into the forge to whip up a piece of jewellery that matches the shades of your eyes and your personality.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Argon

The youngest Prince of the House of Fingolfin becomes a stuttering, blushing mess as he morphs into a poet while lying about his poetic skills being terrible. He can’t take his eyes off yours to the point that he gets scolded for staring too hard.

He always finds excuses whenever he’s around you to look into your eyes, so he doesn’t come off as creepy. Mostly making jokes or performing some stunts so your eyes can always be on him.

Compliments roll off his tongue ten times every ten minutes because you deserve to know that he adores your eyes and how much they suit everything about you. Loves to make comments about Eru not knowing which colour to give you, so he gifted you the two/three most beautiful.

“It’s almost as if your eyes match your mood as well,” he’ll mumble while pushing his face closer to get a better look as if he wasn’t already an inch away from your face.

As a way of showing his appreciation, he could commission a piece of jewellery for him to wear with the respective gemstones that match your eyes. That way, whenever you’re apart and he looks at it, he’ll remember your eyes (because they’re also sparkly and bright).

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Finarfin

He has seen his fair share of heterochromatic eyes before (his eldest brother), so it wasn’t a big thing when he heard people speaking about yours. That was until he stumbled upon you for the first time and blurted out that your eyes were the prettiest to ever exist, better than his brother.

Finarfin makes it his business to ensure that you don’t ever forget that your eyes are filled with the essence of the Light of the Two Trees, and if anyone disagrees, he’s having none of that.

Poems and songs written by yours truly and recited on the cliffsides or beaches during sunsets and sunrises because your eyes sparkle and light up even more. Gets lost in your eyes, literally, because they’re the windows to your soul.

Loves to observe you as you speak due to your expressiveness which becomes enhanced by your eyes. Every micro-expression, he picks up and fawns over because how can someone look as beautiful as you do when blinking.

Can never be upset with you because all you have to do is pout and flash him those puppy and BAM, the argument is over. It’s worse if you cry because you look beautiful when you do, and he forgets that you’re sad, caught up in your gorgeousness.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Egalmoth

He tells you immediately, right off the bat, that your eyes were the blueprint for the reason behind the name of his House (lies obviously) because he’s starstruck by the magnificence behind them.

Egalmoth deeply appreciates your eyes and the significance they hold (in his opinion). As a Lord of exquisite taste in art and all beautiful things, he makes it his business to turn your eyes into a passionate subject of admiration.

“Your eyes are as captivating as a starlit night,” he would whisper one night while stargazing. “I have never seen anything like them, for I do not know if you should share them with the world or be selfish and share them with only me.”

He can’t figure out which eye he should focus on as you speak because both are equally captivating, it’s impossible to pick one, so you’re stuck with his tropical bird dance. At least he has impressed you, so it worked in some ways.

Like the others, he easily finds himself under hypnosis the minute to flash him a sweet expression whilst using your eyes to do most of the work. Whatever you want, just say the word and Egalmoth will get it for you.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Thingol

“You must be a Maia or Vala, for no ordinary person can possess such beauty all at the same time.” Smooth words to greet you with upon your first meeting, and it did work. Thingol feels as though you have cast a spell and placed him under it upon first sight.

It’s impossible to deny you whatever you want when you bat those pretty lashes and flash him puppy eyes to have your way. You’ve found his weakness, and he isn’t ashamed to say that he enjoys it.

Praises unlike any other and worships the ground you walk on, ensuring that you don’t ever feel ostracised. He wants you to understand that your uniqueness should be cherished and understood.

Like the others, he believes that there must be something extraordinary about you, hence the reason you possess those eyes. It’s as if they enhance a special ability of yours (yeah, getting spoilt).

To him, beyond all the weakness they make him feel, they also bring about a sense of tranquillity, similar to the forest of Doriath. He seldom finds himself strolling throughout the forest, deep in thoughts about you.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Beleg

The moment he met you, he almost fell to his knees, believing that you were some deity come to bless or speak with him. Turned out even better, you were sent to be with him, and he is thankful each and every day.

He claims that whenever he looks into your eye, he sees the forest and suddenly calmness washes over him. It’s as though you bring to forest with you, wherever you go, and Beleg is eternally grateful your gift.

Doesn’t like to disagree with you, so even if you were to agree, those eyes were enough to end the dispute. He crumbles so easily while clinging to you and pouting about not liking the look your beautiful eyes are giving him.

You’ll be speaking to him, and his eyes are just like ←↑→↓ because he doesn’t know which one to focus on. He finds it difficult to focus on one eye when both deserves equal attention at the same time, yet with all the hunter skills he has, he can barely focus on both.

He believes that with eyes like yours, you probably see the world differently, hence why he enjoys listening to your stories of adventures. There is a level of privilege he feels when he is told off the world through your eyes.

Masterlist

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[lost-in-fandoms]

Hiii! Do you think Max feels curiosity about Daniel's camera or at first it makes him feel uneasy? What does Daniel think about Max's having no physical boundaries? I imagine Max putting on Blake's glasses, just blinking big eyes at Daniel and Blake and Josh and then trying to decipher why Blake's eyes don't work right.

And what about music?!!!!!! Does he love it????? So many possibilities!!!!!! 👀😍

Hello hello!!!

I think max is mostly curious, because it doesn't look dangerous and because he has been observing the group for days so he knows it's not like some kind of weapon. I think daniel shows him how it works, showing his pictures he's already taken and putting it in front of his face to make him look through the lens! and max is very quick at picking up new things, so at first he's pretty confused by it (how do the things end up inside that strange thing?) but then he thinks it's fun. He likes to take very out of focus and not centered pictures of daniel <3

max one day just takes blake's glasses off of him (again, no boundaries) but you know how your eyes/head hurt when you try on glasses you don't need? he immediately squints his eyes closed and gives them back. doesn't understand why blake would do that to himself. and it's way too hard for them to explain it to him, so i think he keeps thinking blake is super weird for a while. he quite often pats blake's head, because for sure it must hurt all the time.

i think daniel was a bit weirded out by the lack of personal space at first, especially because, you know, max is kinda naked. and sure, daniel is a touchy guy, but not this touchy. i think he gets used to it, and also max starts learning he can't always touch anyone whenever he wants, but after the first few weird/awkward moments, daniel approaches it a bit like you'd approach a baby grabbing your face or a puppy jumping over you. they don't understand that's not how you should act, and max doesn't either. i imagine there's at least an instance in which daniel bats max's hand away from where he's touching his cheek while daniel is talking and max thinks it's a game and they end up in a weird slap fight kjnfsdjf

but max is very gentle, doesn't grab or pinch, even when he touches daniel's hair he is very careful not to tug, and he learns that when daniel pulls away or pushes him away he should drop it. he also learns "yes" and "no" and "wait" and "stop" pretty quickly (again, like babies and puppies jsfbjd) so daniel can tell him to stop touching and max will stop.

there are for sure quite a few awkward moments though! especially because while max learns how to respect their boundaries he's pretty liberal with his, so things like scratching his balls or peeing aren't exactly something he feels the need to do in privacy.

and now i am thinking about like, max learning the concept of soap. he's pretty clean for someone who lives in the jungle, but he only ever washes with water, but i think he'd like soap. he likes the bubbles and he likes the smell afterwards because he smells like daniel <3

and music!!!! i think he tries to copy when daniel sings or hums, like birds call back to each other? he thinks it's another way daniel communicates. but i think he would be very confused by the concept of like music that comes from a device? i don't know what kind of device daniel would need to listen to music in the jungle, maybe he has an ipod? a mp3 player of some sort? but max spends a lot of time studying it, especially if daniel has headphones. maybe he tries to communicate with it, or to find its mouth, or whatever it's using to produce words.

just max sitting on the ground turning the mp3 player over and over in his hands, trying to copy the music back at it, because obviously that's its way of communicating. but in the end i suppose he would accept it as like some weird bird or something. he does enjoy watching daniel dance though <3

also now that i think about it, the boys offering max's clothes (because they feel a bit awkward about hanging out with the naked, or mostly naked, guy) and max not being impressed at all by them. but maybe he likes daniel's tshirts, because they're big and not as uncomfortable and they still leave him mostly free to move, and they're daniel's, so sometimes he wears them. what they do get him to like is underwear, because it's much nicer to be able to sit on the ground and not getting anything stuck to him.

[tarisilmarwen]

Rebels Rewatch: "Twilight of the Apprentice"

The shadow of Malachor looms in the very highly-anticipated Season 2 finale.

Right, so, technically I've already liveblogged this before and you can go here for some of my more, ah, realtime reactions.

(Spoiler alert: There was a LOT of screaming.)

So for this and other episodes that I've already reacted to before I'm mostly going to be focusing more on commentary and meta observations and also my favorite bits and moments, music and animation, that kind of stuff.

Let's dive in!

Ooh right off the bat we have the more serious version of the "Shenanigans" cue.

I know this exchange here between Ahsoka and Rex is a callback to when they first met. So a heart stab for TCW fans.

One thing I notice about Malachor right away is how dead it looks, even from space. Just a featureless plain gray marble.

We get down to the surface and it's even eerier. In the middle of a giant crater there's this wide, unnaturally glasslike smooth plain, only broken up by weird towering stone monoliths.

Malachor's whole aesthetic leans very heavily into the idea and theme of descending into the Underworld, into a place of darkness and shadows where the light can't reach. Somewhere underground, somewhere full of devils and demons lurking in wait, with many hidden traps and temptations to stumble over.

Like the one Ezra triggers by touching the monolith lol.

This really isn't a survivable fall but whatever.

The Sith Temple is actually kind of beautiful in a stark, harsh, Gothic kind of way.

This whole environment is really excellently creepy and ethereal. The ceiling above recalls a night sky, the holes like pinprick stars casting beams of light down. The palate is almost colorless, mostly grays and blacks with some splashes of red and white. The lighting is muted and dim, heavy contrast with the shadows. The music relies on dissonant chords. The sound effects are full of watery rumbles, voices whisper quietly that apparently only Ezra can hear.

Oh and there's the scorched ground and statues of people frozen in distress, like the casts at Pompeii.

"To defeat your enemy, you have to understand them." A sentiment echoed and repeated later by both Maul and Thrawn, and inspired by the writings of Sun Tzu in his Art of War. You have to figure your enemy out, learn how they operate and what motivates them, in order to beat them. "Knowledge" is another word they keep using this episode, our heroes need to seek knowledge about the Sith in order to figure out how to defeat them.

I'm still not quite sure what knowledge they were actually able to gain during this trip. Certainly the Force did basically slap the truth of Vader's identity in Ahsoka's face, to get her to confront it and break through her denial. There's maybe a lesson to be learned about not seeking quick, easy solutions to one's problems, which wouldn't fully sink in until "Twin Suns". (Ezra's obsession with finding "the key to destroy the Sith" can be traced straight back to the Malachor plot thread.) There's definitely a cautionary tale and warning about the nature of the Dark Side, that Ezra completely ignores due to his guilt and shame and self-blame.

On the surface level, technically, the mission does accomplish what it set out to do. All the Inquisitors we know about wind up dead, Vader no longer has any interest in harassing them, they keep the base safe. But boy the cost of it all.

It's probably really fitting that the finale takes place here on Malachor, a dead world with nothing left but stone remains and a creepy Eldritch Sith Temple housing a superweapon that must have killed everyone and everything on the surface, in the vein of The Deplorable Word or a nuclear bomb metaphor. The victory is hollow and meaningless, because there is no one left alive to appreciate it. Likewise our heroes' "victory" is pyrrhic and empty, they kill the Inquisitors but take more and heavier losses in return.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. We haven't even met Eighth yet.

Hi Eighth!

He's not really developed or explored at all and is really just a generic episode-specific antagonist and ancillary to Seventh and Fifth, but he serves his narrative purpose in splitting the party.

Kanan's worried shout for Ezra after he falls. <3

Ezra looking very nervous here, don't blame him.

HI MAUL!

Oh man, the pre-finale trailers spoiled Maul's appearance and fandom was bonkers about it. (The pre-finale anticipation and hype was crazy man, so much over-analyzing and hypothesizing. There was a Bingo Card we could fill out with our theories. This one was mine.) Not a small amount of people were speculating about the possibility of Maul corrupting and/or abducting Ezra at Malachor.

I was one of them. Obviously. Still a smidge bummed it didn't come to pass, just imagine how devastating that would have been on top of everything else.

Anyway, Maul pretends to be frail and weak and old and harmless like some kind of sick parody of the scene in ESB when Yoda's introduced to Luke.

The appropriate reaction to creepy old men lurking in the shadows lol.

Maul plays on Ezra's compassion at first, and then tempts him with what they came for, "knowledge". Ezra keeps a guard up, but cautiously allows Maul to lead him. I think he's figuring he's going to play this by ear like he did back in "Brothers of the Broken Horn", so he's not giving out his name or really trusting Maul yet. That would come later.

Lol, Maul has met Jabba, he knows full well Ezra's playing him.

There's some excellent tense music for the chase with Eighth Brother but I'm not going to really talk about those segments much since, frankly, all the interesting stuff is happening in the Maul and Ezra scenes.

They're in the roots of the Temple now, very Mines of Moria-esque vibe down here with the columns.

Maul still trying to break Ezra's guard down, playing himself up as an enemy of the Inquisitors and the Sith (even though for all intents and purposes Maul still is a Sith) and I love how awkward things get when Ezra asks him if he was a Jedi, he's all like, "ERRRRRRMMMM."

Talking about his Tragic Backstory though unlocks Ezra's empathy and Ezra lets slip his own grievances with the Empire that Maul immediately tries to manipulate to his advantage, sensing Ezra's anger about it.

Boy if I had a nickel for every time my favorite shows explored the "creepy older villain forcibly trying to make a younger hero their apprentice" plotline...

(I would actually have three nickels now because the Big Hero 6 cartoon also decided to do that plot YOU GUYS GOTTA FIGURE OUT SOMETIME THAT THIS PREMISE IS BASICALLY CATNIP FOR ME.)

Anyway, at this point I think Maul's mostly just using Ezra as a means to an end, he's not planning to kidnap him yet, just needs him for the doors. It's really interesting that whereas the Jedi Temple on Lothal emphasized the individual journey and separated the master and padawan, the Sith Temple forces them into kind of a codependent symbiosis--if one betrays the other like Sith are wont to do, the prize is lost and both of them die--making them have to use teamwork and a certain level of trust.

Chopper stealing Eighth's TIE to use against him is pretty awesome, admittedly.

Maul gives Ezra an abridged lesson in Sith/Dark Side philosophy: Channel your passions--your fear, anger, hate, any strong emotions etc.--through the Force for a lot of quick easy power. Ezra expresses misgivings but attempts it and this time does not immediately pass out, though he's clearly tired by the end of it.

Oh man the sound design here.

Also love that annoyed look Maul gives when Ezra complains about their progress. XD

"Yeah I'm killing you after this, I don't have to deal with this shit."

Watching the expressions on Maul's face is a trip, you can see the subtle little flashes of conniving and triumph.

Aaaaaand every time Maul puts his hands on Ezra I still feel an immediate uncomfortable protective rage. You leave him alone you cockroach. >:(

Enjoy the last vestiges of Ezra's innocence folks, this episode is what shatters that to pieces.

Always loved this sequence, it feels very evocative of the Cave of Wonders segment of Aladdin and also several scenes in Raiders of the Lost Ark.

SO much symbolism with the precipices and pits here.

Love this music cue too.

I already noted in a different post way back when that something subtle I love is how Maul's Force Grip catch around Ezra is clearly much rougher than how Kanan has caught him. Ezra's tiny panicked glances down are great too.

So riiiiiiiiiight about here is when I think Maul decided he was going to keep Ezra, you can see in his expression the mean satisfaction when he grabs the holocron, like he's gotten what he wanted. Ezra gets a prolonged moment of regretting all of his life's decisions before Maul finally decides to haul him up.

Look I know fandom makes fun of the helicopter sabers but I never minded them so this is my only comment about them.

Gah, Ezra's innocent little uncertain expressions here always hurt me.

You know, given the added context of TCW Seaason 7, along with the fact that they had already clearly integrated the unfinished arcs into the background continuity while writing Rebels, AHSOKA YOU SHOULD HAVE REALLY WARNED THEM ABOUT MAUL.

Cool shot is cool.

I haven't talked about the music much because it doesn't really stand out until the climax but it's appropriately menacing and dramatic and ominous, as it should be.

Sam Whitwer's vocal progression through the episode is also amazing, along with the slow shedding of his hood it's like Maul is revitalizing himself, reinvigorated, reclaiming his strength and purpose.

He found something (Ezra) to hang his legacy on and seized it. Or tried to.

Ezra sounds just a bit desperate to convince Kanan, this is likely a product of the straining tensions between them. Maul, meanwhile, takes full advantage of Ahsoka and Kanan's uncertainty to suggest using the holocron to activate the obelisk, not telling them of course that it will turn on the Sith superweapon. Which he's counting on to kill Vader and the Inquisitors.

Ezra's theme in cello bass here, as Kanan decides to trust Ezra.

Almost forgot about Seventh's ID-9 Seekers, didn't we?

Love Kanan's protective bitchiness towards Maul this whole episode. The conflict between him and Ezra is just a little bit contrived, Kanan's been harder on Ezra recently yes, but it also feels a smidge rushed. Then again Ezra's been fixating on trying to solve the fundamental problem of the Inquisitors possibly as a way to assuage his grief over losing his parents, like Anakin he thinks if he can maybe just get enough power he can prevent it from happening again, so he's letting his impulsiveness reign in the quest to find "the key to destroying the Sith" and it's making him have a repeat of "Vision of Hope" where he trusts the wrong person.

Ezra's bright little, "Trust me." here hurts so much because Kanan does trust Ezra, that's the only reason why he decided they would stay and then it all goes HORRIBLY WRONG *SOBS*.

This is a nice sentiment and all Ahsoka, and it shows how much faith you have in Ezra's goodness and Kanan's ability as a teacher BUT ALSO YOU SHOULD HAVE WARNED THEM.

Ezra's out of sight for like a minute and Maul's already picking at his insecurities and need for validation and trying to get him to murderize Seventh.

The momentary pride we feel that Ezra can't bring himself to strike in anger and hate vanishes when Maul tests the veeeeeery limits of the Y7 rating.

Ooof.

I hate this man I hate this man I hate this man I hate him so much. He snarls at Ezra for hesitating, berates his merciful Jedi instincts, and then picks up with that soft manipulative fake concerned tone again. He always uses this tone when he's trying to manipulate Ezra, we'll be watching for it next season, trust me.

Hhggnnl Maul glancing up and seeing the shadow passing over the gaps in the ceiling, he knows Vader's on his way. And he's definitely already made the decision that he's taking Ezra.

Love this brief triumphant cue here, for a moment it looks like they've won.

The matching "Oh crap" expressions on Kanan and Ahsoka's faces when Maul says, "You mean... my apprentice?" they are just a hair too late to prevent disaster.

Yeah so this moment pretty much traumatized fandom. For months.

DUEL OF THE FATES BABY!

And a very unhinged Maul getting a little too excited about using the Sith superweapon to kill everyone.

The presence in the holocron is likely a trace of the Sith Lord who created the superweapon, Darth Tanis.

Sound design appreciation moment, just LISTEN to it.

"The power will be mine! Ezra will be mine!" Very hinged. Much sane. If you had waited maybe five minutes, Maul, and resisted the urge to murder everyone you could have actually had what you wanted! But such is the nature of the Dark Side, the quick and easy way offers fast solutions but hollow ones, in the grasping for what you want it slips through your fingers.

ALL MAUL HAD TO DO WAS NOT TRY TO MURDER KANAN AND AHSOKA AND EZRA PROBABLY WOULD HAVE GONE WITH HIM. At the very least Kanan might have tentatively let Maul hang around. This is the tragedy of Maul's life, he is the king of self-sabotage.

[Insert ramble about the symbolism of Kanan taking up a Temple Guardian mask and how that relates to his role as Ezra's protector.]

I don't remember I think there was maybe one or two people who complained that Kanan shouldn't be able to beat Maul here, but for the most part fandom was agreed that this was awesome.

:(((

Please do note: Maul just kind of... assumed Ezra would use the Sith superweapon when he learned what it was. Ezra's too pure for that, alas.

WELL THAT'S NOT ABSOLUTELY TERRIFYING.

Ezra sassing Vader like Kanan sassed the Grand Inquisitor back in "Call To Action" lol.

And there goes Ezra's blaster-saber. :(

I've been a very good girl conserving my limited photos so now you get a lot of Ezra's terrified face.

The Ahsoka-Vader confrontation is pretty much perfect, even for someone who never really watched TCW and doesn't really have the same level of investment as a long time fan would have. Even without the context the emotions and drama come across well.

Ezra veeeeeeerrrrrrrry slowly and carefully trying to scoot away from Vader always makes me giggle.

Vader threatening to torture the information out of Ezra if Ahsoka won't give up any remaining Jedi she knows about. :(((

:((((((((

Still love how TCW recontextualized Ahsoka's angry, "I am no Jedi!" by reframing it as, "I can't be a Jedi anymore, you took that away from me, you killed the Order I loved and wanted to return to!"

I think I heard someone trying to describe Vader here as, "Picture an upright locomotive with a lightsaber." and that's apt, Vader is so heavy and powerful with every movement and swing. This is Vader in his prime, unleashed, against an opponent he won't hold back on and it is glorious.

Chopper guiding Kanan by the hand. :(((

Ezra's horrified realization. :(((((

Small note: Ezra's been nursing his right wrist this whole time, possibly sprained or burned a bit when Vader destroyed his saber. Also a nice parallel to ESB and Luke.

Ahsoka does her best but you can tell she's tiring here.

Some gorgeous animation as the Temple begins to seal back up.

How annoyed do you think Vader must have been to have a blind half-trained ex-Padawan and a scrawny 16-year-old kid managing to fight his Force Pull on the holocron?

Ahsoka swoops in for a Big Damn Heroes moment and breaks open his mask. You're welcome for the nightmares, kids.

Hello so many parallels to Luke and Return of the Jedi.

:(((((

Very effective bringing the orchestra full to the fore with almost no other sound or dialogue here. This whole sequence is brutally powerful.

Kanan and Hera's heartbreaking reunion. The sorrow on Rex's face, feeding into Ezra's clear guilt. Maul surviving to menace us another day. Vader limping off, out of the wreckage of the Temple. Tracking the convor as it flies towards the vague form of Ahsoka descending further into the Temple. The cut to the Ghost with everyone's silent worry and sorry. And closing on Ezra's murderous Kubrick Stare as he gets the holocron to open.

This finale is on people's favorite episode lists for a reason, lol. It's so dramatic and game-changing and tightly-written, leaves us perfectly fuming in anticipation for more.

You know how shows promise that, "Nothing will be the same anymore." in taglines to trick you into watching for the Next Big Twist? Rebels actually delivers on that promise.

It's an amazing ride.

Overall Season Thoughts:

Season Two is stronger than Season One in a lot of aspects. The animation is even prettier with the added budget, the stories remain well-balanced and woven together even with the added breathing room of twenty-two episodes to Season One's fifteen. The show takes advantage of that extra room to build up the finale, especially in the last few episodes, to very good effect. The expanded scope means we're facing bigger and greater threats, and also widening our cast, and yet none of the guest stars overshadow or overpower our mains, who are given plenty of chances to develop and shine.

Aside from one minor misstep in "Blood Sisters", this season is solid through and through.

Onwards to Season Three!

[jetwhenitsmidnight]

Silver Under Nightfall by Rin Chupeco

Genre: gothic fantasy romance

If you like: polyam romance, vampire hunter x vampire(s), enemies to lovers, angst, Castlevania(idk what this is but apparently they are similar), Gideon the Ninth's sense of humour

Content warnings: blood, violence, (past) statutory rape, sexual coercion, body horror, semi-explicit sexual content(they get it on a lot, but there's no description of genitals and its mostly skimmed over)

Overall rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️💫/5

Synopsis

Remy Pendergast is many things: the only son of the Duke of Valenbonne, an elite bounty hunter of rogue vampires, and an outcast among his fellow Reapers. Though the kingdom of Aluria barely tolerates him, Remy’s father has been shaping him into a weapon to fight for the kingdom at any cost.

When a terrifying new breed of vampire is sighted outside of the city, Remy prepares to investigate alone. But then he encounters the shockingly warmhearted vampire heiress Xiaodan Song and her infuriatingly arrogant fiancé, vampire lord Zidan Malekh, who may hold the key to defeating the creatures. When he’s offered a spot alongside them to find the truth about the mutating virus Rot that’s plaguing the kingdom, Remy faces a choice—one he’s certain he’ll regret.

But as the three face dangerous hardships during their journey, Remy develops fond and complicated feelings for the couple. He begins to question what he holds true about vampires, as well as the story behind his own family legacy. As the Rot continues to spread across the kingdom, Remy must decide where his loyalties lie: with his father and the kingdom he’s been trained all his life to defend or the vampires who might just be the death of him.

Review

I genuinely can't remember the last time I had this much fun reading!

This book starts off with a whole fight scene, which was so brilliantly executed. Not just because it was cool as hell, but also because it introduces Remy in such a way that readers can get a sense of who his character is and his place in the story right off the bat. His ostracization from most of his fellow humans, his position and reputation as a Reaper; as well as his character: his determination to do what's right, his kindness, his stubbornness and impulsivity.

And I love how Remy's first meetings with each of his love interests perfectly sets up the dynamic for their relationship. Like, Remy and Malekh fighting from the very first time they meet, with Malekh goading him and Remy refusing to back down + Remy's immediate acceptance of Xiaodan and their easy banter, establishes the tone of their relationship from the jump, which is maintained throughout the book, while still allowing them to grow closer as they learn more about each other.

Remy also serves as an excellent narrator. Although he's slower on the uptake than Xiaodan and Malekh, he's still observant and intelligent, and has a snarky sense of humour, never failing to snark at the worst possible moments.

The action scenes were all so fun, and I think the way Remy holds his own against the stronger and faster vampires makes sense. Also the sex scenes ate (sometimes literally lmao).

I have a few nitpicks that keeps this book from being perfect for me, which aren't a problems, its just my personal tastes. I couldn't completely get behind Malekh, because I don't really enjoy brood-y, super-serious, edgy type characters. Which, he has good reasons for being so, given his backstory, but some of his lines which were probably meant to come off as cool and sexy, made me scoff a little and take him less seriously. Other people would probably find him appealing, this is really just a case of "its not you, its me".

Another thing that took me out of the story was some of the names. I mentioned it here, and I do think its fun, but it removed me from the narrative a bit. Singing Waters is a cool-sounding name in english, but Changge Shui in mandarin sounds kind of dumb, and being named Yingyue would get you made fun of by Chinese people.

[news365timesindia]

[ad_1] Omaima Sohail batting for Pakistan (Image: PCB) Right from the 1960s and 1970s, Karachi has been a hub of street cricket. During the holy month of Ramadan, even at midnight, cricket is played on streets under lights. Probably every single cricketer who has gone on to represent Pakistan would have had a taste of some form of street cricket. Omaima Sohail, the spinning all-rounder, is no different. “Yes, I am from Karachi, I used to play on streets with boys, then I played for my school,” she told RevSportz. “My coach (Musharaf Sheikh) at school mostly focused on cricket. So, he told me ‘you play cricket well, why don’t you join some team’? So I said, ‘sir, I don’t have much of an idea’, there wasn’t much exposure those days for women’s cricket in Pakistan,” she added. Omaima began her career bowling seam-up. Just that there was a flaw in her action. Subsequently, she took up off-spin. She also added another arrow to her quiver. “My coach ensured that I would join his academy, I practiced there for two months. I used to do fast bowling; my arm was bending a bit (she said with a wry smile). He helped to correct that flaw, and I also improved my batting. When the trials happened, he sent me there. Then I played for the U-19s and the senior team.” The discussion soon veered towards the kind of support that she received from her family. From Omaima’s words, one could make out that her parents have been the pillars of her strength. “They are very supportive. Because of their hard work, I am here. When my father (Sohail Anjum) used to take me to cricket, if I had a match from morning or evening, he used to be there. That was a big thing for me. I used to get confidence, ‘if they want me to do it, then I should put in more effort and go further’,” she observed. By now, Omaima has played close to six years for Pakistan. So, is there a bowling or batting performance that sticks out? Something that would reverberate in her mind for a long time to come. “That fifty (65) against Pakistan in the 2022 World Cup. I also was the player of the series in my debut series against Australia, it really motivated me. I also took a five-wicket haul versus Sri Lanka,” she noted. Pakistan have been on an upward curve. In December last year, they created history by usurping New Zealand in a T20I series away from home. In the ongoing T20 World Cup, Pakistan also got the better of Asia Cup champions, Sri Lanka. So, is there something more that can be done to polish the skills of the Pakistan Women’s Team? How about a Pakistan Super League for women? This is what Omaima had to say on the prospects of starting a T20 league for women. “Yes, it should happen,” she said.  “It would be a good set-up for cricket. When you play with big players in matches, share the dressing room, it will help us learn a lot. We had exhibition games last year and it was very good. Hopefully, next year, women’s PSL will also begin.” Returning to the T20 World Cup being played in the UAE, Pakistan are placed in a rather precarious position. After pipping Sri Lanka, they went down to India and were crushed by Australia. Pakistan now have to get the better of New Zealand by 53 runs if they bat first. Or chase down the target in just 9.1 overs in order to progress to the last-four. The hypothesis is based on a total of 150. While answering the question, there was a sense of calmness in Omaima’s voice: “See, we won the first game against Sri Lanka. Our confidence was very high. Just because we have lost a game (or two), it doesn’t mean that we have to lose our confidence. Anything can happen. Whatever mistakes we have made previously, we will try to ensure it doesn’t happen. So that we can come out victorious.” The post Hopefully women’s PSL will start soon – Omaima Sohail appeared first on Sports News Portal | Latest Sports Articles | Revsports. [ad_2] Source link

[news365times]

[ad_1] Omaima Sohail batting for Pakistan (Image: PCB) Right from the 1960s and 1970s, Karachi has been a hub of street cricket. During the holy month of Ramadan, even at midnight, cricket is played on streets under lights. Probably every single cricketer who has gone on to represent Pakistan would have had a taste of some form of street cricket. Omaima Sohail, the spinning all-rounder, is no different. “Yes, I am from Karachi, I used to play on streets with boys, then I played for my school,” she told RevSportz. “My coach (Musharaf Sheikh) at school mostly focused on cricket. So, he told me ‘you play cricket well, why don’t you join some team’? So I said, ‘sir, I don’t have much of an idea’, there wasn’t much exposure those days for women’s cricket in Pakistan,” she added. Omaima began her career bowling seam-up. Just that there was a flaw in her action. Subsequently, she took up off-spin. She also added another arrow to her quiver. “My coach ensured that I would join his academy, I practiced there for two months. I used to do fast bowling; my arm was bending a bit (she said with a wry smile). He helped to correct that flaw, and I also improved my batting. When the trials happened, he sent me there. Then I played for the U-19s and the senior team.” The discussion soon veered towards the kind of support that she received from her family. From Omaima’s words, one could make out that her parents have been the pillars of her strength. “They are very supportive. Because of their hard work, I am here. When my father (Sohail Anjum) used to take me to cricket, if I had a match from morning or evening, he used to be there. That was a big thing for me. I used to get confidence, ‘if they want me to do it, then I should put in more effort and go further’,” she observed. By now, Omaima has played close to six years for Pakistan. So, is there a bowling or batting performance that sticks out? Something that would reverberate in her mind for a long time to come. “That fifty (65) against Pakistan in the 2022 World Cup. I also was the player of the series in my debut series against Australia, it really motivated me. I also took a five-wicket haul versus Sri Lanka,” she noted. Pakistan have been on an upward curve. In December last year, they created history by usurping New Zealand in a T20I series away from home. In the ongoing T20 World Cup, Pakistan also got the better of Asia Cup champions, Sri Lanka. So, is there something more that can be done to polish the skills of the Pakistan Women’s Team? How about a Pakistan Super League for women? This is what Omaima had to say on the prospects of starting a T20 league for women. “Yes, it should happen,” she said.  “It would be a good set-up for cricket. When you play with big players in matches, share the dressing room, it will help us learn a lot. We had exhibition games last year and it was very good. Hopefully, next year, women’s PSL will also begin.” Returning to the T20 World Cup being played in the UAE, Pakistan are placed in a rather precarious position. After pipping Sri Lanka, they went down to India and were crushed by Australia. Pakistan now have to get the better of New Zealand by 53 runs if they bat first. Or chase down the target in just 9.1 overs in order to progress to the last-four. The hypothesis is based on a total of 150. While answering the question, there was a sense of calmness in Omaima’s voice: “See, we won the first game against Sri Lanka. Our confidence was very high. Just because we have lost a game (or two), it doesn’t mean that we have to lose our confidence. Anything can happen. Whatever mistakes we have made previously, we will try to ensure it doesn’t happen. So that we can come out victorious.” The post Hopefully women’s PSL will start soon – Omaima Sohail appeared first on Sports News Portal | Latest Sports Articles | Revsports. [ad_2] Source link

[astramachina]

First night of auditions: done.

And I Have Thoughts.

I'm a writer. That's it. The end. I know nothing about set builds or stage directions or any other tech stuff that goes into building a play. I create the world, write the words, and a team of people take care of the rest.

The invitation for me to sit trough the first round of auditions was a courtesy that isn't often extended to playwrights, so I was grateful for the opportunity to see how it's done. I think everyone who got on that stage and read scenes did a fantastic job and there was certainly a select few who Got It(tm). No complaint there, but it's not like I have any real say on who gets what role anyway.

What was really interesting to see, though, was the difference in vision between me and the director.

It's a short play because no one is going to take a stab at staging a three-act debut, which is the first constraint I had to work with. Ten pages is what I was allotted which meant I had to sacrifice setting and background for the sake of dialogue to carry the full story.

The second "constraint", is that the heart of the play is a social commentary that reflects a variety of marginalized identities. It was written by a person who sits at the intersection of said marginalized identities. The director, on the other hand, is a white middle-aged cisgender straight woman.

Now, I don't care. I'm of the belief that all sorts of stories should be explored by everyone regardless of who they are. But what I do find utterly fascinating is how the director has read these characters.

She gets the point of the play. We've talked about it. She understands the references, nuances, symbolisms, etc. She's championed it as the resistance piece that it is, but it was in her directions to the actors that really made me sit back and go "huh, of course this is how you see this".

The protagonist is the chillest motherfucker on the planet. Sure, he's frustrated, he snarks, but he's very low-vibe. The "antagonist", for lack of a better word, as well as the neutral party, blow his reactions out of proportion. They try to frame him as violent, volatile, unstable, when he's literally just hanging out, asking them to either help or leave him the fuck alone.

The increase in agitation and discrepancy between action and reaction is very clearly labeled throughout the script, but the director just... didn't catch that? She's made the protagonist this angry ball of disdain because, apparently, that's the only acceptable (or at least known) way that a trans qpoc reacts to injustice throughout daily life.

Again, as the playwright, I have no real say on how the director chooses to go by staging a story. When you write something and release it into the wild, how characters and stories are perceived is entirely out of your hands. However, this birthed two thoughts.

One, how would this have gone if, had I the space, I had provided more context to the story. My cast page was pretty barebones because I was uncertain of just how brief brief actually meant. (Turns out you can get away with a LOT according to some properly published plays I have sitting on my desk.) In short, I'm certain a lot of mischaracterization could be prevented by having some pretty hefty author's notes in place, something that is actually encouraged in playwriting.

Two, how would have a QPOC staged and directed this.

Through and through, despite my best attempts of stripping the play of it, the director managed to (subconsciously) incorporate biases and stereotypes, undermining the whole point.

On one hand, like I said, I am exceptionally lucky and grateful to have even been given the opportunity to not only set something of mine on a stage but to be mentored and resourced into the Big Blue Ocean of theater (D.C. & multiple competitions are currently on the hot seat). On the other, I have to work myself up to probably making a fool of myself and stepping on toes to get answers that I might not like but will have to live with for the time being.

Either way, this has and will likely continue to be a huge learning experience on all kinds of fronts, and I'm both excited and terrified about it.

[no-droids]

Out of a Trillion

gif credit: @bestintheparsec​

Part Fifteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.6K

Warnings: uhhhh so there is a bit of SMUT in this one, not too much and I imagine if you’ve made it this far then that won’t be too big of a deal LMFAOOO uh some ANGST and my attempt at HURT/COMFORT and also violence/blood/injury description, so look out for that!

A/N: I started writing this before the season finale aired and I know we all want a bit of goodness and softness after it, but hopefully this will be okay!  I’ll start working on the next part tonight

***

Everything changes and yet somehow nothing does.  

From that point on, it’s like… like you’re both just suspended in this perpetual state of wondering, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  You know he said it’s up to you, but what the fuck?  Look whenever you want?  That’s way too much fucking pressure, he’s out of his mind.  You’re not equipped to handle that, who does he think you are?  Someone that can just… decide things?

And it’s not like you’re afraid of the commitment, or that you don’t want to look.  You do, but every single time a moment comes, it just never… feels right.  You don’t know what you’re waiting for, what feeling or meaning you’re expecting to magically present itself to you, but you can’t shake the idea that there should be more to it than just randomly deciding to open your eyes at some point, shouldn’t there?  Din said there was no ceremony, nothing fancy, and he gave you permission to look because he said he’s not allowed to ask outright, whatever that means.  It’s a standing offer because you guess he isn’t allowed to prompt it for some reason, but unfortunately, that leaves you in just about the shittiest position possible.  Now everything falls to you—initiation, execution, and consequence—and Maker knows you’ve never been that great making decisions under pressure.

But you do want to look.  Sort of.

Sort of.  Because… well, this probably won’t make that much sense, but you’re afraid.  Mostly for him.  What if he’s making a mistake?  It sounds stupid, but you’re afraid of what this means for him, the sheer perpetuity of this decision he’s now expecting you to make for the both of you.  This isn’t your creed, not yet, and you feel like there’s still so much to learn.  Not only about the Mandalorians and his culture, but about him.  To know is to love, and so you’ve taken to asking any nonsensical question you can think of whenever he’s around.  Though you weren’t expecting it at first, you’ve learned that he’ll always give you some sort of an answer.  Some of the highlights include:

“How old are you?”  (“I don’t know.  Probably mid-forties, but there’s no way to tell anymore.”)

“You don’t know your birthday?”  (No, I… think it was in the winter.”)

“What’s your last name?”  (“Djarin.”)

“Do you have any freckles?  Or moles, or birthmarks?”  (“No, none that I’ve ever noticed.”)

“Do you cut your own hair?”  (“Yes, but it’s been awhile.”)

“Do you have dimples?”  (“I don’t smile in mirrors.”)

“Are your earlobes attached or detached?”  (“What kind of question is that?”)

And so forth.

He also gives you so many fucking opportunities to look.  One right after the other.  You used to think Din was incredibly trusting with how often and voluntarily he decided to take his helmet off around you—he didn’t wait a single day once he first felt your hands on his skin to take it off in your presence.  You remember being blown away by his unexpected willingness to part with it after hearing so many tales of the Mandalorians from Kuill; stunned by the ever-present ability to just open your eyes at any moment and that’s all it would ever take.  One simple movement—life-altering, and so easy.

Now you find it nearly impossible, muscle memory just won’t allow it to happen naturally.  And yet somehow, avoiding it is like stepping around land mines.  He doesn’t trick you—he doesn’t set it up, he doesn’t surprise you or anything, but he’s… less careful.  When the kid is awake, Din acts normal—he walks around fully armored, he goes on hunts and returns a few days later with a quarry, teaches you more self-defense techniques in the cleared out hull while the kid watches and giggles at your pain from the safety of his floating crib.  But when the baby goes to sleep, he’s taken to lounging with the helmet off.  He only used to remove it to eat, sleep, or… do other things with you, but he never used to take it off just… because.  Now he does.  Now he’s less careful about darkness, less strict about how much light he allows to touch him.

Now he shares every single meal he can with you, sitting just off to the side so you’ll never see him on accident but providing the free exercise thereof should you ever decide to seek it out purposefully.  Now he interrupts you in the middle of your complaining about the bruises on your knuckles just to lift the rim of his helmet the slightest bit, lean down and give you a quick kiss, and then lower it back into position again before you can even catch a glimpse of the lips you only recognize by touch.  Now he keeps the light on when he goes to take a shower, he leaves the door cracked.

It’s starting to give you heart palpitations, you swear.  At one point, he lets you to see the entire back of his head and it nearly launches you into a fucking crisis.

It’s the middle of the night and he just got up from bed to use the restroom.  He’s quiet enough not to wake you on the way over, but then across the hull and with his back to you, Din flicks the light on in the small bathroom without closing the door.  Immediately rousing you after being so accustomed to the pitch blackness, you lift your head from the warmth of your shared pillow just enough to blearily make out the sight of him leaning a hand up against the wall and dropping his head down, and it takes you a second to realize that it’s actually him.

Soft, dark brown locks ending at his collar but somehow looking longer than you ever imagined when you’ve run your fingers through them.  Cascading in shaggy, natural curls—tall, broad shouldered and trim waisted, naked as the day he was born.  Your heart starts to squeeze in your chest and it just never stops, and for the second time in your life, you feel like he woke you up in the middle of the night just to show you one of the most beautiful things the universe ever decided to hide.  There are trillions of people in this galaxy and how many of them have ever seen a sight that would compare?  He’s just a man, you don’t think a single person would bat an eye.  But to you, he’s… his own monument.  Constructed in honor of everything dazzling that happens to lie just underneath something else.  A breathtaking view, even from this angle, that could only ever mean something to you.

Would you ever be able to know him?  No, that’s not phrased right.  What you mean is that… over the course of all your time together, you remember thinking that if he ever took his helmet off, he could walk right by you and you’d never be able to tell the difference.  He could be anybody.  There are trillions of people in this galaxy and how many of them have the same features?  Brown hair, brown eyes, sunkissed skin that only one person is allowed to kiss, not even the sun.  Would you ever be able to know him?

Staring at his back in the blissful silence of hyperspace and feeling like the Maker himself is letting you in on one of his proudest secrets, some wild thought suddenly occurs to you that… you think you would.  Somehow.

You can’t explain it and you’d never be able to prove it, but you feel like if you lined up every single person in this galaxy shoulder to shoulder, all however many trillions of them there are, then you could walk the entire length of it and somehow come to a stop right where he’s standing.  Every single time.  You feel like you could do it in the pitch black.  You could do it with your eyes closed.

And, he must just be so gorgeous.  Maybe not in a traditional sense (or maybe in one, you’d have no way of knowing), but mostly in just… the rawest sense imaginable.  Not like how symmetry and straight lines are gorgeous, but how a mountain is gorgeous.  Rocky, dangerous, steep, the product of constant conflict between two immovable sides.  He’s got scars littering his body, one of which you remember giving him yourself with a cauterizer on his lower back.  He holds himself like his shoulders could tell their own story if anyone ever asked them; built to endure, weighed down and made strong with a collection of burdens he chooses to strap to them, steel or otherwise.

You don’t want to close your eyes once Din slowly turns around to look at you, but it happens anyways and you’ve never been so disappointed in your own cowardice.

But then, in a way, it could just be your own self-preservation instincts taking over.  No matter how stunning and life changing the spectacle would be, why would anyone ever stare directly at a supernova?  For so long, you’ve told yourself that his face is something you shouldn’t ever see on principle, but in a way, you suppose it’s fair he put this decision on you because he always has, even from the very beginning.  He trusted you to keep your eyes closed for months on end and you never had a problem with it, so why is it so hard to open them now that he’s given you permission?

A couple weeks of that, and you start to worry that you’re unintentionally rejecting him.

It’s the last fucking thing you want, but how can you avoid it?  Din is… different, he notices.  He’s made a living off of finding things that inherently don’t want to be found—he knows all too well what secrecy looks and sounds like, he’s quick and observant and you don’t stand a single fucking chance against him in all the years of his practice.

But strangely, for as often as you feel like you can figure out what he’s thinking without ever seeing his face—realizing what his intentions are ahead of time and not feeling slighted when he phrases things a certain way or just chooses not to speak at all—you never truly realized how much that extended back to you.

He knows you, too.  He told you so.

For some reason, you didn’t even consider the possibility of it working just as well the other way around.  That you could choose to stay silent, and he’d know why.  You feel like the mystery of him just eclipses you in every single way that you don’t consider even yourself much of anything, much less something else to be contemplated and understood.  While you wouldn’t necessarily qualify the conflict as not being ready to commit, he seems more than willing to respect it regardless and nothing about the way he treats you or interacts with you changes.  Normally you’d say it’s like he forgot the whole thing ever happened, but it’s almost the exact opposite.  Like he was just naturally expecting it from you.

Are you truly so predictable, you wonder?  He said you’d say no.  Was he right?  You’re not saying no, you just… can’t remember the word for yes right now.  It’s right there on the tip of your tongue and the harder you work for it, the more frustrated you become with your own inability to find it.

But, instead of waiting, you think Din just decides to continue the conversation with the promise to come back to you when you finally figure it out.

Sometimes, especially when he’s gone, you find yourself thinking about what moment you’d choose, if you could.  Since you can never seem to find the right one naturally, how would it all go if you could construct everything yourself?  Where would it be?  Naboo?  No, that’s too cheesy.  One thing you and Din both have in common is your practicality, your respective propensities for wanting to tackle one thing at a time and not needing frills attached to something in order to find a deep connection to it, a personal value to it.  You weren’t even bothered when he didn’t claim you as a girlfriend to Peli, that’s how reasonable you used to be about labels.  Now you’re your own antithesis, trying to conjure meaning where there isn’t any just so you don’t feel like you’re the one who’s ripping it away.  You want this decision to feel as permanent as it is.  You want it to be a happy thing, something that happens when you’re both so in love that you can’t bear to have metal separating you any longer.

You think… you’ll just know it when the time comes.

***

“I have to leave,” comes Din’s hushed voice through the darkness, and even though it’s the first thing either of you have said in hours, it sounds frustrated.  Like it’s been bothering him for awhile and he’s just now finally telling you.  “I… fuck, I can’t stay here, I should’ve left a long time ago.”

You whine softly into the pitch black, turning your head into the pillow and curling your fingers into his hair.  “But it’s still so early…”

“It’s mid-afternoon,” he groans back, dropping his forehead down against your skin and breathing hot air along it.  “We’ve been parked here for hours, I don’t know how you can sleep so long.”

“I’m not sleeping,” you pout, before gently dragging your nails down his scalp and feeling his whole body shudder with it.  “Earlier I was.”

“Mhm,” he murmurs, leaning down to give you one last long, slow kiss.  You sigh when his tongue comes out and glides soft and hot against your lips, tightening your grip on his hair.

But soon he pulls away, lifting the covers from over his head and pushing up from between your spread legs.  “This one shouldn’t take long,” he gruffs, planting both palms next to your head and kissing you once more in the darkness, dipping his tongue into your mouth this time.  You moan softly and taste yourself on him, moving to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, but he breaks the kiss and leans back before you can, preemptively avoiding the possibility of getting lost in it.  “I’ll be back around dawn.”

You’ve known it was coming for hours now, so you’re able to play it off way better this time around.  “Okay,” you breathe softly, dragging your palms up his bare chest as he lifts himself tall over your body.  The slight disappointment underneath is so masterfully hidden, you’re almost positive you’re going to get away with it.  “Be safe.  Please.”

But then… well.  Bounty hunter.

Din pauses for a moment like that in between your open legs, letting you slowly slide your hands down his ribs and over the lines of his stomach.  You wait for him to move, find his clothes so you can get around and make some food, wake the kid up from his nap in an hour or so.  Can’t stay in bed all day, no matter how much you wish you could.

Only, he still hasn’t moved and you start to become concerned.  “Din?”

But then he suddenly groans like he just can’t help it, grabbing both of your spread legs and easily lifting them up.  You make a sound of confusion as he maneuvers them until they’re pressed together and draped over one of his shoulders, and then his hips drop and push forward to slide himself thick and perfect into your blazing hot cunt.

Still drenched and swollen from cumming in his mouth so many times earlier, you gasp and he just groans louder, a ragged thing scraping out of his throat while you struggle through blind and unexpected euphoria to reach him.  But you can’t—Din hugs your legs tight to his chest and settles in just like this, turning his head to drag soft lips and a hot tongue over your ankle before he starts fucking you.  Right up against your g-spot, with your whole lower body in the way and preventing you from slowing him down.

You just have to clap both hands over your mouth just to keep quiet since you can’t reach him.  You feel his teeth sink into the meat of your calf, hips pistoning far beyond your reach and it feels so fucking good that you almost don’t hear his gritted words against your skin.

“I have to go,” he groans, repeating it over and over until his voice begins to pull tight and it just sounds like a plea.  “I have to go, I have to go, I h—have to… h-have to go, I have to, I have to, I have…”

*** 

When Din finally steps foot out of the ship, fumbling with his rifle and cursing quietly through the modulator, it’s the middle of the night some twelve hours later.

***

Steady…

Steady………

Fire.

—and… you blink as bark splinters.

Did you…?  You look down at the blaster in your hand and then back to the ginormous charred tree trunk for a few seconds, wondering if you’re just seeing shit.

No, it’s real.  You actually fucking did it.  You…

… hit the target.

All of a sudden, your ecstatic giggle echoes loudly throughout the foresty autumn wonderland around you, reds and oranges and yellows crunching under your feet while you start to dance.

“Hey!  See that, bug!?”  You call out, shoving the blaster into your waistband and shimmying up to your enthralled audience of one, who just so happens to be smiling as wide as you are as he’s scooped up into your arms.  “I hit the target, I hit the target,” you sing, beginning to sway the baby back and forth as he squeals, laughing while you bounce him.  “No demon powers necessary, little man!  I figured it out, I just have to use one hand instead of two.  You can retire now, you’re the right age for—”

A twig snaps in the distance somewhere to your left, and you quickly spin around while reaching for the blaster behind your back.

Except all you see is a blue Twi’lek standing out amongst all the fall foliage, his hands cuffed behind his back and stumbling a few steps at a time while a considerably taller suit of beskar shoves him forward.  You relax and immediately turn to look down at the ground, trying to bite your lip so you don’t smile too hard while they both approach.  You did it—finally, you did it, you’re on top of the fucking universe right now.

You wait for them to pass by and move up the open metal ramp to the carbonite chamber, but then Din apparently decides to pause when he’s directly behind you, yanking the quarry to a sudden halt.  

You know you should probably turn around to address them, but you can’t hide the happiness from your expression, it’s way too obvious.  Though, after a moment, you decide to shyly turn to face the two men while continuing to bounce the baby in your arms, hoping that his and your matching expressions of excitement aren’t too terribly inappropriate right now.

Din looks from you to the splintered bark on the tree, and then back to you again, before slowly tilting the helmet up in a way that feels… proud of you.

“Congratulations,” he finally says, and you can hear the genuine smile hidden in the modulated drawl.

“Thank you,” you beam up at him, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks.  “Was pretty awesome.”

“I’m sorry I missed it,” he tells you, and you don’t know why, but the tone of his voice makes you go so warm.  It’s not like he’s openly flirting with you, but coupled with your giddiness and sounding like that in front of a bounty he caught in record time, it just makes your heart fucking throb for him.

“It’s alright,” you murmur, shuffling your feet through the crunchy leaves below and trying to play it as cool as possible.  You have company.  “I’ll be able to do it again.”

“Let’s see it, then.”  He tips the helmet over at the tree, and you look between him and the unfamiliar quarry for a second, not used to Din just… ignoring their existence entirely for you.  It’s not like the Twi’lek has said anything or inserted himself into the situation at all, but still.  Din has one hand latched onto the cuffs behind his back to prevent him from booking it, but other than that, it’s like he’s pretending he’s not even there.

“Uh…”  You immediately feel yourself get nervous.  “I can… try.”

He nods one single time in silent encouragement, and you slowly turn to face the tree once more.  The kid stays cradled in your arm while you reach for the blaster in your waistband, removing it and using your longest finger to flick the safety off with a practiced fluidity.  Then, extending it out in front of you and taking advantage of your newfound strategy of only firing with one hand, you line up the sight and pull the trigger.

You wish you could say it hits.  It would be so fucking cool and impressive if you hit the target like that, wouldn’t it?  But it doesn’t hit.  It misses, like usual.  Miserably.  And then an amused snort comes from behind you.

“Right stormtrooper, you are—” you hear an unfamiliar accent begin to snark, but the rest of it turns into a garbled howl the second Din jerks his elbow back to slam it in his face.

You whip around just in time to see a cascade of blood pouring down blue lips and sharp teeth—holy fuck.  You gasp and take a step backwards with the kid, not horrified by the sudden display of violence (not after Din spent an hour teaching you how to do that, too) but not quite expecting it at that moment, either.  But then, well… that’s the second time he broke a quarry’s nose for addressing you with disrespect.  There was that other one he choked, you’re pretty sure—though you can’t remember exactly what initiated that.

Din yanks the bounty up the ramp without another word, leaving both you and the kid there to process while he shoves him through the hull and towards the carbonite chamber none too kindly.  However, by the time he seals the quarry to his fate and eventually makes his way back to you, you just… 

Fuck, you feel so stupid.

You shouldn’t even bother, what’s the point?  All that practice and nothing to show for it.  If you can’t even hit a stationary target with the pressure of others watching, what makes you think you’ll have any hope at all in a situation where you actually need to shoot?  Are they gonna stand still for you?  Are they gonna be as wide as a fucking treetrunk?  You’re horribly embarrassed, so downtrodden in the face of a cruel taunt that you don’t even want to look at Din when he steps in front of you.

“Hey, just try it again,” he says without delay, but the damage has already been done.  It’s not his fault, you’re just… not the kind of person who is meant to shoot a blaster, maybe.  

“Ah… it’s alright,” you look out and smile sadly at the line of trees surrounding you, wondering how it’s possible that you only managed to hit one of them this whole time.  You don’t see it, but Din quickly touches the tips of his fingers to the side of his helmet twice before you look back at him.  “I hit it earlier.  I did, I promise.  You can see the mark if you look.”

His glove reaches out to brush your hair back, so unbelievably gentle after using the same arm to shatter bone just a few minutes ago.  “I know you did.  It was a perfect shot, you hit dead center.  I see it.”

“I did it with one hand, that’s why I tried the thing,” you mumble stupidly, looking down at your feet.  Dumb.  Dumb.

A strand of your hair is tucked behind your ear.  “Wish I was here.”

You glance over at him, feeling your expression suddenly go soft with a wave of affection.  It stops all the harsh criticisms, halting your negativity in its tracks and replacing it with just… soft, abstract things.  Mostly just warm, nonsensical fluff, but one clear and resounding thought breaking through.  You wish he was here, too.

“Maybe I’ll get good at it eventually,” you sigh, slowly handing him the blaster with the barrel pointed down and away from both of you.  Din carefully takes it from you, tucking it away somewhere on his utility belt while you gaze out at the designated target and victorious char mark decorating it.  “Or hopefully just okay at it at some point.  I guess I just need to practice more, right?”

“That’s right,” he tells you warmly, catching your free wrist.  “Try using this one when you do.”  And then a lightweight piece of metal is gently pushed into your empty hand.

Your expression furrows while you quickly look down at it, and—

You go utterly still at the gift, not even knowing what to think.

The first thing that you notice is the craftsmanship.  Brilliant, structurally flawless, the perfect size to fit your hand.  You don’t recognize the specific kind of metal that was used—definitely not beskar—but you think it might be constructed from the same material as Din’s old armor.  Dull silver, but with reflective chrome filigree accents around the handle, trigger, and safety.  It’s uniquely constructed and unlike any weapon you’ve ever seen before—no hard lines or edges, just a soft fluidity to the design that’s so aesthetically pleasing, it doesn’t really even resemble a blaster at all.

You can feel the visor silently studying your reaction while you continue marveling, noticing something new every time you look.  The safety is towards the back of the chamber, just like he said it’d be.  The sight is electronic, and you examine the way it’s built directly into the barrel.

Are those extra magnets on the inside?  Is this able to micro-adjust the plasma release for the best shot?  Holy stars, it must have cost a fortune.

“Din, this is…” you can’t decide where you want to look—the gorgeous crafting, the custom design, or him.  Standing so close to you, not saying a word while you search for the right ones.  “It’s so beautiful, I…”

“Was made for you,” he murmurs.  “Had to be.”

You look back down at the blaster to stop your eyes from tearing up.  He didn’t have to do this.  This is so… sweet, such a lovely thing to do.  Don’t cry, don’t cry—

“What is this?” You ask breathlessly instead, rotating the gun until he can see the symbol branded on the handle.  You recognize that it’s his signet, but you never bothered to ask him what it’s called, you never saw it as your place.  It’s an animal of some sort, one with a giant spike attached to its skull, and you’re glad you’ve never come face to face with one.

“It’s a mudhorn,” he answers quietly.  “They’re… dangerous animals.  Fiercely protective, preferring solitude.  The kid saved me from one a few days after I met him.  It’s… the mark of my clan.”

How fitting, you think, and an honor.  Perfect for him, and a bone-deep reminder of your two favorite people in the galaxy on your hip wherever you go.

“Thank you,” you tell him, hoping the sincerity in your voice sounds anywhere close to how you feel.  You haven’t even had it in your hand for longer than a minute and it’s already your prized position, the most important thing you’ve ever called yours.

Din nods and takes a small step back.  “Now hit the target.”

Feeling invigorated and renewed in every single way, you keep the kid tucked firmly in one arm while raising your blaster with the other.  The safety clicks off and your back straightens, chin lifting until something about the angle feels… right.  The trigger moves easily under your fingertip, and there’s almost no kickback considering how light the weapon is.  What you’re not expecting is the pure white beam of plasma shooting out of the barrel—unlike any blaster you’ve ever seen before—but then the immediate sight of it hitting the tree dead center sends a roar of triumph through your ears.  Fuck yes.

“Look at that!”  Din calls out over the kid’s happy squeal, and there’s nothing you can do to stop your loud whoop of victory.  Even though you know it only hit with the addition of those extra magnets to correct your terrible aim, that still feels so good—you feel so fucking powerful and dangerous.  You glance over to Din with a wide smile, but then his arm extends out towards the trunk directly next to the one with charred bark.  “Hit that one.”

You automatically swing the blaster in that direction and shoot.  A few pieces of wood split on impact and send sharp bits flying as soon as the bright white beam collides with it.

“That one,” Din tells you, and then bark splinters a half second later.  “That one.”  Bark splinters.  “That one, that one, that one—” hit, hit, hit, white plasma flying through the air and bark splintering in rapid succession.

He stops and spins around, pointing to a tree at the very edge of the clearing.  “That one?”

It’s furthest away but the trunk’s diameter is enormous.  As you lift the blaster, you know you’re likely to get it easily with this sophisticated weapon, even across the considerable distance.  So instead, feeling like nothing at all can touch you right now and wanting to see how smart the aim mechanism is, you raise up a few degrees higher before pulling the trigger.  Pale plasma launches from the barrel, and then one of the tree’s most prominent branches comes creaking and crashing to the ground right where you split it.

You’re beaming by the time Din turns back to you, the most excited you’ve ever been with your own progress.  He holds there for a moment while you lower your blaster and wait for him to speak, both of you looking at each other and not moving, until suddenly you hear his voice coming back to you.

Hit the target and I’ll marry you.

One of Din’s hands slowly comes up to the edge of his helmet, but before you can even process the implication behind the gesture, you’re immediately looking down at the crunchy leaves under your feet and clearing your throat.

There’s a beat of silence where you stare down at the dead foliage and wonder why the fuck you just did that.  Right in front of him, right to his face, too startled at how quickly you were being confronted with the possibility that you responded in an equally startled way.  It was instinctual, automatic and entirely out of your control, but that doesn’t mean you don’t want to take it back.

But… you can’t take it back.  That’s the way things are, and after a few moments, you hear his boots begin to cross the distance to you.

“Come on,” Din murmurs gently through the modulator, carefully taking the blaster from your hand and clicking the safety back on again.  “We have to get going.  The fifth quarry is far.  Three day trip through hyperspace.”

He doesn’t sound upset or disappointed by your unintentional rejection, thank the Maker.  You want to explain yourself somehow, but it appears it isn’t necessary in the slightest.  His arm wraps around your lower back and he leads both you and the baby back up the open ramp of the Crest, squeezing you close enough to his side that you have to learn how to walk in a different way to stop yourself from tripping over his boots.

The helmet turns and presses to the top of your head while you focus on moving straight.  “Proud of you,” Din murmurs quietly, and your chest fills with enough air that you’d be worried about floating away if he wasn’t latched onto you so tightly.

He eventually releases you and walks over to the armory, pressing a button to unlock the doors while you hold the kid and watch him start to remove the multitude of weapons strapped to his body.

Maybe… maybe this isn’t the right time, but something brave surges up inside you.  After receiving the most precious gift imaginable from him, hitting all those targets and hearing him say that he’s proud of you, you’re buzzing with just enough energy that for better or worse, it makes you open your mouth and ask.

“Could I… come with you this time?”

Din nearly jerks upright and looks over at you immediately, but he takes a while in responding.  You hope he sees it in your eyes.  You hope he sees just how much you don’t want to be stuck here again when this is possibly the one time you’d be able to tag along.  It’s a bullshit quarry, one he could do in his sleep, and you’ve been getting increasingly restless while stuck on this ship.

When Din eventually does respond… well, judging from his shift in tone, you’re assuming he was just shocked at the question and didn’t take any of that time to actually consider his answer.

“No.”  Short.  Unfeeling, and not sorry about it in the slightest, before turning back to return the blasters you were using previously to the armory as if you said nothing at all.

Okay…  Um.  Not great, not what you wanted to hear, but maybe if you explain yourself better, he’ll listen.

“I just… I’m the only reason you have to get this quarry in the first place.”  Your voice is quiet, trying to let go of some of the concerns you’ve kept to yourself over the past two weeks.  Your fingers fiddle idly with the kid’s little woolen sack as he hangs out in your arms, wanting to plead your case but feeling slightly nervous now.  “You were out having a crazy expensive blaster made for me while I shook hands with Karga and agreed that you’d take more work for less pay.  I hate that I did that.”

“You had no choice,” Din mutters, turning around and striding past you while pressing a button on his vambrace to close the Crest’s ramp.  “My fault for being late.”  And… for as warm and comforting as his voice sounded earlier, it now just sounds… dismissive.  Aloof.  Half-listening, not really wanting to talk but forcing himself to.

“Well this time, I thought maybe… I might be able to help?  Maybe?”  Maker, you feel yourself going quieter the more he walks around the hull and ignores you.  “Karga said it was just a missing person, not even a criminal…”

“Karga says a lot of things,” he grunts with his back to you, voice completely monotone through the modulator.

Come on, speak up.  You’ve lacked a backbone for so long, you’ll never get what you want unless you say it out loud and let it be known.  You take a deep breath and straighten your shoulders, trying to put a little bit of spine into it.  “I can be useful.  I can fight now, I’ve been working on my—” 

“You think I’m telling you no because I don’t think you’re capable?”  He suddenly whips around, voice ringing sharp and challenging throughout the hull while you freeze.  You don’t move but everything about you suddenly feels like it shrinks.

“I-I didn’t—” But he cuts you off, taking a step forward.

“I know you can fight, a Mandalorian taught you how.  I know you’re useful, I know it’s just a missing person, and I know you hate it when I leave.”  He pins you with his eyes through the visor, his tone harder than you think you’ve ever heard it before.  “No.  Your job is to stay here, on this ship, with my son, where it is safe, and my job is to go get the quarry.  Quit asking.  I’m not telling you again.”

The baby makes a tiny little distressed sound in your arms and you blink a few times up at the cold metal, feeling all the good feelings from before just… drain out of you.

Okay, that’s fine.  Uh.  You… the cockpit is behind you, you’ll go up there and fly then.  No reason, just… he should get going.

“Okay, yeah,” you nod and tell the wall over his shoulder brace in immediate agreement, before abruptly spinning around and grabbing the ladder.  Din doesn’t move a single fucking muscle while you try to find your way up to the cockpit with the baby held to your chest and a dead stone sitting heavy inside of it, hoping your face doesn’t show the vulnerability you feel wanting to take over as you retreat.  Get to the cockpit first, get to the cockpit first, get to the—

“Sweet girl, I…” you barely hear murmured through the helmet from the floor, soft enough to sound slightly shocked, but you scramble into the cockpit and shut the door behind you before he can say anything else.

***

Silence didn't used to feel like this.

At first it was eerie, unnatural and stifling when you spent years in a wide open desert, wind swirling and dust pelting.  It suffocated you the first few times you jumped into hyperspace, a phenomena you read all about and considered mathematically fascinating before ever experiencing for yourself.  It was… foreign and strange, but you began to value it more and more as time passed.

Then, you started to get to know him and silence just became comforting.  Something you could bask in, knowing it was a comfort to him.  A choice he made because it just fit him best.  You felt safe in it, you felt like you didn’t have to be anything else but you.  You never had to break it just to avoid awkwardness, you became… closer to it, until you learned to fall in love with it.

But only when he was with you and it was his silence.  Not… everything else’s.  Now it’s haunting again.  Now the sheer lack of sound through hyperspace is a stranger to you, and the distortion of light surrounding the cockpit feels less about the sheer magnificence of manipulating space time and more about the fundamental disconnect it causes.  Gorgeous, but at its core, a severance.  Ripping the fabric of the universe apart, tearing a wound in it.

It’s been a few hours and nothing exceptional has happened since your conversation in the hull.  

You’ll admit that you’re a sensitive person, and because of that, you’ve always had a problem knowing if you were right or wrong when someone comes at you with a hard enough will.  You second-guess yourself, it’s one of your worst traits, and you feel like trying to squash that tendency without knowing the limit is partially to blame for why you’re holed up in this cockpit with the kid.  You’re quiet but in a different way from Din.  When he doesn’t speak, it’s because most of the time, he’s sure of himself and doesn’t need to.  When you don’t speak, it’s because most of the time, you’re insecure and don’t want to.

After being left alone with your thoughts for this long, you’re starting to realize that… he was right.  What were you thinking, wanting to tag along?  Wanting to hang out while he risks his life for this occupation, you probably sounded so fucking ignorant.  Maybe… maybe he didn’t have to say it like that, but his point is still very valid and you’re not sure if you’re really justified in hiding like this anymore.

The way he said… your job, though.  That still stings a bit.  This hasn’t felt like an actual job in a very long time.  Was that just an expression, or did he mean it literally?  You’re stuck on it, you’ve just been going over this for hours in your head, trying to figure out if you should be the one to apologize or not—or if this is just you overreacting from the start and no apologies will be necessary at all.

“Sorry you got stuck with me, kid,” you mutter sadly to the baby, watching him fiddle with his favorite metal ball in your lap.  He makes a little gurgle, purring in that weirdly adorable little way of his and it somehow feels like a reassurance directed to you that he’s just fine the way he is.

Maker, you haven’t heard anything from the hull in a fucking eternity; it’s like Din turned into a ghost, hasn’t even made a single footstep that you could hear since you last left him standing there.  You remember performing a quick flight check as soon as you got up here, lifting off as fast as you could and hoping the thrusters would rumble loud enough to cover your series of pitifully shallow sniffles at being yelled at unexpectedly by a very large and intimidating man, not really crying but not really able to breathe normal either.  The little monster was able to wiggle himself around in your lap as you were trying to punch in the correct coordinates for the fifth quarry with rapidly blinking, watery eyes, and then proceeded to give your belly the smallest hug you think you’ve ever been given and pretty much break your heart with it.

Lovely little boy, so sweet when he wants to be.  He’s sat with you this whole time, he even tried giving you his metal ball to play with but ultimately decided to keep it to himself when he realized you aren’t nearly as fascinated by it as he is.  You know it’s probably getting late for him, and you’ve been weighing the idea of handing him over to his father so he can at least get a good night’s sleep somewhere that isn’t your arms.  There’s no blankets in here, just your lap.

“I think I gotta go take you to your dad soon, tiny.  He’s probably missing you,” you tell him, trying to keep quiet enough that you won’t disturb Din in the hull.  There’s a good chance he’s already asleep.  “I think… he might still be mad at me.  Maybe you can give him the big eyes, soften him up a little?”

Right on cue, his enormous eyes start to droop closed, and you let out a tired sigh of exasperation.  That’s not gonna work, come on.  They gotta be open, booger.

You watch him slowly drift to sleep, his ears relaxing until they too start to droop, but when you try to take the ball from him and set it down on the console, his eyes immediately pop back open and the toy slips from your fingertips.  It levitates right back into his tiny hands as you watch, and then he closes his eyes once more while tightly cuddling the thing he loves most to his body.

Unbelievable.

He’s a child, and yet he’s…

“How are you so strong?”  You ask him, unable to even fathom.  “You’re the smallest, most helpless little thing I’ve ever seen and you’ve got such… strength.  You defy the universe for a piece of metal.”

He doesn’t hear you, you think he’s asleep again.  It’s just as well, you figure.  He needs to go sleep in his crib, it’s time.  You scoop him up and make sure the little ball stays tucked snugly in his arms, before finally standing up and stumbling over to the door on numb legs.

Only, when it slides open, you quickly stop short.

Because there, sitting on the floor and resting his helmet against the corner of this small little platform leading to the ladder, is the Mandalorian.

So much closer than you expected him to be.  So big, crammed into such a tiny place.  You didn’t hear his footsteps climbing the ladder, and you would’ve noticed it during the hours you’ve spent in the suffocatingly muted quiet of hyperspace.  He can be silent but not when absolutely nothing else exists and he’s got a thousand fucking pounds of steel weighing him down at any moment in time.  You took off almost immediately once you barricaded yourself inside the cockpit, so has he… did he follow you up in those last few seconds, right after you shut the door?  The ones when you were sniffling like a child and trying desperately to turn the thrusters on before you let the tears come?

His head lifts and his back straightens as you’re looking down at him with his sleeping son cradled in your arms, your eyes slightly redder than they should be.  You’re a mess and… he’s been here this whole time?

“Could you hear me in there?”  You whisper in sudden mortification, but Din just keeps gazing up at you through the impenetrable metal visor.  A complete mystery again.  Unreadable—he could be anyone.

When he doesn’t answer you, your heart twists with the possibility that he’s still upset with you, and you quickly turn to the ladder to figure out the best way to get down without jostling the baby.

“I’m sorry.”  His voice stops you dead in your tracks.  It’s so soft, nearly flipping in and out of the modulator from the lack of volume, the most cautious sounding thing you’ve ever heard coming through the filter.  “I… hurt your feelings.  I’m sorry.”

And…  Maker, if anybody else had said it.  If literally anybody else had said it, you know it would’ve sounded like the most sarcastic, dickish remark in such a delicate moment.  But, you also remember him telling you once that you were tenderhearted.  That the galaxy would never be as kind to you as you are to it.  This… comes out sounding like he’s trying to change that.

It comes out sounding like he’s trying to use his voice to hold you because he doesn’t think you want to be touched right now.  Like… like he’s doing everything he can to be as careful as possible here because you think he might be attempting to do something he’s never done before.  Apologize for saying something he didn’t mean.

“You don’t have to,” you quickly tell him.  He’s not good with words and apologies are difficult enough to phrase for normal people, you don’t want him to fret over it if that’s what this is.  “It’s okay, I know you’re not… you don’t have to.  It was stupid of me to ask.”

“It wasn’t,” he instantly counters, his voice finally seeming to find the floor when it was just hovering before.  Not loud—still gentle, still making sure the kid doesn’t wake up and you’re not frightened away, but a bit more grounded this time.  “It wasn’t… what I wanted to hear, and I didn’t take it well.  Not stupid.”

“It was stupid,” you return amicably, looking down at your feet.  “That’s not my… job, like you said.”

Din suddenly hangs his helmet down to his chest, pressing his gloves to the part that curves over his forehead and rubbing it.  “Shit.  I didn’t mean—”

“You were right,” you acknowledge, having spent the past few hours coming to the understanding that it’s the hard truth and he just phrased it poorly.  “I’m not… built for it, I’d only get in your way.  I barely just managed to shoot stationary targets with a blaster today, and that’s only with that aim corrector built into the barrel.  I’m here to be helpful, not—”

“What are you saying?”  He suddenly lifts the beskar to study you, sounding genuinely confused.  “What aim corrector?”

That… makes you pause.

“The, uh…”  Now you’re confused.  “The one that adjusts the plasma release on the gun you gave me.”

He doesn’t move an inch or say a single thing to you in response and you awkwardly shuffle your feet for a second, everything so quiet that you can hear every little snore that goes in and out of the kid’s tiny button nose.

You blink at him after way too long of that, not knowing why he still hasn’t said anything.  “There’s an electronic sight and like a bazillion extra magnets packed into the barrel, Din, what else could—”

“Sweet girl, that’s… that’s for the Philithiorium,” Din breathes out, like he’s absolutely blown away by you right now.  “That gas is less stable than normal canisters, it takes more magnets to focus the white beam without overheating the metal.”

You stare at him, not truly processing.  He’s saying that… you made all those shots today without any help at all?  By yourself?

Your eyebrows furrow and you blink a few times, but then his slow, heavy sigh echoes throughout the metal walls with disappointment… and you don’t think it’s directed towards you.

“You’re just… always so unsure of yourself.”  He sounds genuinely distraught as his helmet tips down to look at the ground.  “I made that worse today.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you quickly shake your head, your chest already beginning to loosen slightly by just being around him, hearing his voice, seeing the metal glint under the fluorescent light overhead when he’s in such a vulnerable position on the floor.  “It’s okay, let’s just… pretend neither of us said anything at all, okay?”

“Is that what you really want?”  He asks you after a moment of quiet, and for some reason, you hear something in your mind tell you that his arms look so nice right now, don’t they?  You could fit right there, perfect and safe again.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you smile at him, feeling a bit of the ache trapped inside you continue to work itself out little by little.  You’ll be back to normal soon, it’s fine.

“No, I mean… do you really want to come with me?”  Din asks you, the words sounding cautious.  Confused, like he truly never expected the proposition from you at all.  “Or… do you just not want me to go?”

Oof, what a fucking question.

Why would he ask this?  It’s not pointed; it’s the softest, gentlest inquiry you’ve ever been posed.  Maybe in other circumstances, you’d say that him leaving doesn’t have anything to do with it, but… you’re certain that internally, it absolutely does have at least something to do with it and he was just able to know it before you did.  Which is probably why his sharp words seemed all the more cutting earlier.  It hurt because he said the truth first, verbalized a very deep insecurity you’ve been trying to hide from him and threw it right in your face when shutting you down.

Though, if it worked differently and you were the one who had to be away while he stayed here, you’d like to think you’d handle it way better than how it is now.  At least you’d have a real mission to focus on, new things to see and experiences to have.  You just feel… confined sometimes.

You take a deep breath and figure you’ll use sitting down as an excuse to think for a second.  There’s practically no room but you find it in the back of the cockpit near the doorframe anyways, doing your best to keep the kid level while you slowly lower yourself to the ground near him.  Not touching him, but close.

“I just… I lived my whole life stuck in one spot, wanting to see the galaxy,” you finally admit to him, staring at his chestplate but seeing the helmet tilt slightly in your peripheral.  “Sometimes it’s just… hard to see the galaxy and still be stuck in one spot, I guess.”

“…You want an adventure,” Din proposes quietly, and though there’s not a single hint of mockery in his voice, you suddenly feel like it’s really fucking dumb when he phrases it like that.  What are you, an eight year old?  Wanting to go on an adventure, see things you’ve never seen without any concept for real life?  Credits?  Time?  Resources?

You shrug a shoulder to make it seem like it’s no big deal.  Why is he even entertaining this right now?  “It’s stupid, I kn—”

“Like on Naboo,” he goes on, ignoring your harsh self-criticism, not allowing you the ability to even get it out once he heard the first couple words.  “Going through the forest, seeing that waterfall.  Someplace to find for yourself.  Explore.  Experience.”

You… you want it so badly that you think your eyes might tear up just hearing the words coming out of his mouth when he says them like that.  Like he… just inherently understands.  He knows.

He knows you.  He’s not good with words and yet he found the single most succinct way to put what you thought was a complex yearning without even trying.  You can’t even answer him, he hit the target dead on and you’re left with nothing to say that wouldn’t just be a miserable lie.

“Okay,” Din says after a moment, giving you a small nod.

You’re lost now.  “…Okay?”

“You’re never going on a hunt with me,” he tells you very seriously, no room for arguing.  “Ever.  And not because you can’t handle it, understand?”  He inhales, quickly adding on to his response before you’re able to analyze it the way you want to.  “But if you want an adventure, then… I can try and find a way to give you one.”

Stars.  He’s… too kind.  You somehow feel like it’s more than you deserve.  You were honestly hoping to just shadow him on a hunt, watch him work and stay well out of the way when he needs you to.  Helping if you think you’d be of any help; an extra set of eyes and hands.  You would’ve been fine even if he didn’t apologize for raising his voice at you, he doesn’t have to do this for you.

“Thank you,” you say for the third time today, feeling like each one has somehow multiplied in sincerity.

“It can’t be right now,” he quickly tells you, apologetic but earnest about it.  “I have to find the quarry, and I’m supposed to meet with Karga again in a week.”

You never did let him know about the other part of the deal you made with Karga, you admit.  Four pucks, no hassling, no hard time constraints.  That’s what you shook on, but you just never found a way to bring it up to Din.  Especially since you’ve been so preoccupied with hiding your growing disappointment from him whenever he has to go.

“If…” you pause, wondering the best way to phrase this.  Yikes, this is a toughie.  “Um.  If Karga… I don’t know, hypothetically, if Karga decided to loosen the time constraints back to the way they were before the Corellian bounty, would you… still need to meet with him again in a week?”

You don’t think he even bothers shuffling through all those words.  “Say what you mean.  Please.”

“That was part of the deal I struck with him,” you quickly explain.  “You can hunt on your own timetable again and he’ll keep giving you four pucks like before, no more or less after this one extra quarry.  It’s like a… replacement of sorts, for the one I kept you from getting the time before.  If credits aren’t an issue, you can take more than a week.  But only if you want to, you don’t have to.  It’s just there and you should know, that’s all.”

He takes his time responding, lifting his helmet just the slightest bit in… surprise?  Maybe?

“You never told me you did that,” Din finally murmurs.

“Ah.  Well.”  You look down at the sleeping kid in your arms.  “I didn’t want you to think I was trying to… keep you here.”

It genuinely is a struggle for you, and you think he’s just now realizing that.  As much as you know he gets frustrated with you for always wanting him to be here when he physically can’t be, you think it’s only now that he’s truly realizing the lengths you go to in order to stomp that part of you down whenever you feel it threatening to come up.  You allowed him to leave every single time without telling him he could stay, knowing that all that was left for you was babysitting and target practice for days on end.

“Will you come over here?”  Din finally asks, and the tone of his voice just punches you in the chest.  So soft, so distressed from having you so close yet so far from him and just… full of a quiet hope, like he’s fully expecting you to say no.

“Will we fit?”  You whisper after a moment, even quieter.

He doesn’t answer, he just reaches for you.  You do your best to scoot over to him without waking the kid, and then Din pulls you the rest of the way once he has a grip.  You go right into his arms, laying sideways across his lap and supported by his steel embrace.

Oh, it’s not comfortable but you’ve also never been more fucking comfortable.  One of his knees lifts and allows you to rest your back against it without worrying about falling over sideways and down the ladder to the hull, thank the Maker.  The beskar pauldron over his shoulder digs into your cheek, but Din immediately pushes an arm up to nudge his helmet off and make it better for both of you.  Your face automatically fits into the crook of his neck while he sets the beskar on the bend of his knee, and then he silently cradles you while you do the same to his little boy… who does the same to his favorite metal ball.

“Ni tar’tayl su,” he murmurs into your hair, the one phrase in Mando’a you do recognize, especially with how beautiful and elegant it sounds rolling off his tongue.  “Forgive me.  Ni ceta.”

You sigh your contentment and melt into him, well aware that you’d still be more comfortable in bed.  But when you’re pressed hard against his chest like this and the baby is fast asleep in your arms, you get to feel both of them breathing.  Din’s right lung is probably bigger than the kid’s whole entire body, but you like the radically different cycles they go through.  You think you count six full breaths coming from the brown sack in your palms for every one of Din’s and two of yours.  It creates the most beautiful little symphony that sometimes gets a little off track, but always finds its way back around again.

“How do you say…”  You ask, feeling his hand slowly move down the curve of your spine, mindless and hypnotic.  It catches the edge of your shirt and goes underneath, and even though it’s not his bare hand and there’s no skin to skin, it still feels so good.  Not sexual or sensual even, just… a comfort to you.  “In Mando’a, how do you say… out of a trillion?”

Din’s breaths pause for just a second, his portion of the synchronized rhythm faltering.  Soon it starts back up, and his head turns to press his lips against your hair.

“I don’t think there’s a word for it,” he admits, gently brushing a thumb across the baby’s forehead while he snoozes.  “There could be, but I don’t know it.  I’d use… out of a million million millions.  Dayn alanyc bal alanyc bal alanyci.”

Your eyes begin to drift closed, exhausted from keeping them open after shedding a few tears earlier.  Your first fight and you’re already completely in love with him again after a handful of hours of sulking and one conversation.  How is that possible?  You’re normally a very forgiving person and it wouldn’t have taken much to make you feel better, you just never expected him to… actually want it from you that badly, care enough about it to get on the floor and ask.

Din doesn’t move the entire night through.  You assumed he’d make everyone get up at some point and move to the hull, but he doesn’t.  You fall asleep against his chest, comforted by the silence once again.

***

The next morning, Din quietly climbs into the cockpit while you’re humming in the shower.  You’re too busy basking in the indoor rainfall to feel the ship pull out of hyperspace, and then jump back into it a few moments after.

***

“How long do you think you’ll be this time?”  You ask two days later, sitting on the extended flattop of Din’s old cot and swinging your legs back and forth.  The baby is currently sitting on your lap and trying to roll the metal ball down your knee so you’ll kick it in the air, you think, because he keeps dropping it at different moments and forcing you to stop moving your legs to prevent accidentally denting a wall.  Every time the ball clatters to the floor, he makes a sad sound and it immediately lifts back up into his tiny hands for another try.

Heavy boots clang against the metal floor as Din drops down from the ladder, having just landed the Crest on the surface of whatever planet you’re on.  “I’m not leaving yet.”

“Oh…”  You blink, surprised.  “Okay.”

“I wanted to do some more training with you first, if that’s okay.  You can say no if you want, but maybe not,” Din drawls, striding over to the armory and opening it.  He carefully removes your blaster from the front shelf, speaking with his back to you.  “You’re going to run.”

“Um.”  You take a moment to glance around the enclosed hull, before turning to look back at him with your eyebrows raised.  “What, like… in place?”

Din sighs and closes the armory before leaning back against the doors, rubbing the face of the helmet in exasperation.  “From me, sweet girl.”

Your legs stop swinging, and the baby grumbles and slaps three fingers against your knee.  “What?”

“We’re on Sanctuary II,” he explains, turning to grab his black bag from one of the storage shelves.  He unzips it and reaches back into one of the larger pockets on his utility belt, before grabbing a handful of credits and stuffing them inside.  “It’s a moon, the New Republic occupied it years ago and made it a safe world for refugees and orphans of the Empire.  You’ll have your blaster, some credits, a communicator, and a day head start.  You’re going to run from me.  Show me how much you’ve learned.”

Is… he for real?

Right now?  You don’t even know how to respond, you’re too surprised.  Even when Din approaches and carefully trades the kid for your blaster, setting the bag down next to you on the metal bed, you still haven’t answered him.

“If you want?”  He asks after a moment, and you quickly jerk your head into a nod and jump off the raised platform, almost knocking into him with your sudden excitement.

“Okay!  Fuck yeah,” you grin, but Din shakes his head.

“Rules,” he says seriously, and you quickly do your best to frown, trying to compose your thrilled expression to match his tone.  “One.  This is a safe world, but things can always happen.  You have a blaster now, but it’s for emergencies only.  Do not shoot me with it.  Do you understand?”  You nod, but Din reaches forward to grab your elbow.  “Out loud, please.  For me.”

“I will not shoot you with this blaster,” you vow obediently, carefully cradling the precious firearm in your hands.

“Do not shoot me,” he repeats while pointing a leather finger at you.  “Do not… shoot at me.  Near me.  Around me.  No, just—don’t shoot.  Unless I am… very far away.  Okay?”

Well, he didn’t have to phrase it like that.  You frown, but acquiesce regardless.  “I will only resort to blastering if it’s an emergency and you are not around.”

He nods a thank you for putting it into better words.  “Second rule.  Since you don’t have a ship, I won’t either.  We’re on foot.  I don’t doubt you can hotwire a piece of junk to do what you need it to do, but I’d prefer it if you didn’t.  Good?”

Entirely accurate and entirely fair.  “Good.”

“Three,” he says.  “I’ll have the kid with me, which is both good and bad news for you.  Good news is he’ll slow me down, bad news is I can’t promise he won’t also try to intervene at some point if you’re serious about putting up a decent fight.  What I can promise is that I won’t encourage it.”

“Reassuring,” you nod.  “Also not really a rule.  Please continue.”

“Four.”  He pauses for a second.  “I think I’m wanted by the New Republic.”

You nearly jerk back.  “What?”

“I can’t confirm it and I’m not proud of it,” Din quickly tells you, probably the vaguest possible explanation he could provide.  “I’m only telling you so that you’ll know your advantage and find a way to exploit it.  I can’t be seen by any officers, or they might arrest me.”

Is he fucking serious?  “I don’t want you to be arrested, Din, I—”

“I won’t be,” he assures you.  “They owe me one, I just don’t want to cash in yet.  Trust me.”

You… do.  Insanely, and against every logical thought flittering through your head, you do.  If you were ever going to bet money that someone would be able to navigate a safe world on foot without being caught by the numerous officers scattered across the surface, then you’d put all your credits on Din Djarin.  It… also shouldn’t really surprise you at all that the people seeking his incarceration also owe him a favor, should it?  It actually sounds right on par for him.  “Okay.”

“Fifth, and this one is important, so listen up,” he continues gruffly.  “You check in with me tonight over the e-comm, alright?  I don’t care where you are or how safe this planet is, if you don’t check in, I’ll come find you before the sun rises.  Say you understand me.”

“I understand you,” you tell him, your heart beginning to pound in your chest at the reality of this actually happening.  “I’ll check in tonight.”

“And if,” he goes on, “by some miracle, you manage to make it more than a full day, you check in with me tomorrow night, too.  Say it.”

“I will check in with you every single night for the full five days it’ll take you to find me,” you assert, the adrenaline starting to make you brash and giddy.  

Din tilts his helmet at you sternly.  It is a very, very stern tilt.  “Okay.  New plan, forget everything I just said.”

Your expression furrows.  “What’s the new plan?”

“That is the new plan,” he says, dead serious.  “Us.  Not doing this.”

“Oh, come on,” you grin cheekily up at him, poking his chestplate.  “I’m just giving you some motivation to find me quicker, that’s all.”

Din stares down at you, and… yeesh.  Tough crowd.

“Tell you what,” he finally grunts, sounding incredibly unamused with your jesting.  “If you can last that long with only a day head start, I’ll let you come with me to collect the fifth quarry.  You can even cuff the bastard yourself.”

You know it’s just because he’s rightly confident in his own deadly skill, but hearing him propose the possibility still shoots a thrill down your spine.  “Oh ho, you are gonna regret saying that, shiny,” you beam up at him, starting to hop back and forth on each foot with excitement.

“But if I’m able to find you, you can’t ask me ever again,” he finishes shortly, and you immediately go still in front of him.

“What?”

“If I’m able to find you in five days, I don’t want to hear about you coming with me on a hunt and you can’t ever ask me not to go on one,” Din tells you, his voice rough and gravelly through the modulator.  Not mean or harsh, but firm.  “From now on, it’ll be off-limits.”

You… take a moment, not knowing if you should feel scolded or not.  When you don’t immediately say anything in response, he sighs and turns the helmet away from you.

“Leaving is hard enough as it is,” he mutters, looking at the ground.  “Hearing you ask… makes it impossible.”

You slowly lower your gaze to the floor as well, feeling your heart constrict tight in your chest.  There’s a real pull under his voice, telling you that information even though it sounds like he doesn’t really want to admit it out loud.  It… really is a struggle for him too, then.  You understand.

“Okay,” you nod.  There’s not a single part of you that actually thinks you’ll be able to stay hidden from him for five days while stuck on foot, so this is essentially a given.  You’re not thrilled about the idea, but you’re going to do your best to respect it nonetheless, especially if he cares enough to put off hunting and allow you this experience for yourself.  It’s a better compromise than you ever imagined, and you’ll do everything you can to hold up your side of the bargain.

Din clears his throat and straightens his spine, turning the visor until it faces you head on once more.  “Final rule.  I reserve the right to break any rule we just agreed to, or any fucking rule in this galaxy to keep you safe.  Good?”

Your cheeks flush with heat, your stomach suddenly filling with butterflies.  He doesn’t do that.  Din says what he says or he doesn’t say anything at all, there’s no… taking things back, he’s already breaking his own code.

“What happened to The Way says no take-backs?”  You ask quietly.

“This is my way,” he answers you.  Quick, not even taking a moment to think about it, before pulling out a fancy looking wristwatch thing and clipping it on you himself.  “This is your communicator.  It takes more power than the one you have now but it’ll reach a further distance.  I have one just like it, they’re locked into the same frequency and timesynced together, and the batteries need to be charged every three days.  If you make it that long, I’ll remind you.”  Din grabs the bag while you slide your arm into it, helping you hook it around your shoulder with one hand while he cradles the kid in his other.  Your heart is pounding now, pumping with adrenaline as he pulls you towards the middle of the hull and then wraps an arm around you.

“Hey,” he murmurs, pulling you tight to him and pressing the helmet to the crown of your head.  His voice is barely a whisper through the modulator.  “Gar darasuum.”  For an eternity.

You find some way to wrap your arms around him, even with your blaster in your hand and the kid hanging out in his dad’s other arm.

“Dayn alanyc, bal alanyc, bal alanyci,” you murmur dutifully against the beskar chestplate, knowing your accent is probably butchering the words but hoping they still carry the same sentiment.

And then you’re squeeeeeezed hard enough to get a little air out of you, before you’re let go and he turns around, pressing a button on his vambrace so the ramp begins to lower.

It’s bright outside but not too bright, and everything is warm and gentle and breezy, right in the middle of a lush plain.  You inhale the fresh air into your lungs, looking out across the wide open field, having no fucking clue this is where your day would be leading when you woke up this morning.  Oh Maker, it’s gorgeous here.  Not like Naboo, where every single thing is picturesque and fit for an e-card, but in a soft, understated kind of way.  The sky is a canvas of swirling pastel clouds, pale pinks and yellows and blues, and the communicator on your wrist lets you know that it’s just after noon here.

You take one single step down the ramp, before immediately stopping and turning around to bite your lip at him.

“How am I… how am I supposed to outrun you?”  You ask, already clueless.  “You’re too good, better than me at everything.”

“That’s not true,” Din reminds you sternly, grabbing your hand at your side.  “You already know who’s after you, that’s an advantage nobody else has ever had against me.  You know how I think.  I don’t know how, but sometimes it’s like you can…”  He slowly shakes his head.  “See me.  Through the metal.”

“But… but that works both ways,” you point out, breathless at hearing him say that but needing to focus right now.  “You know me, too—you’ll know exactly where I—”

He shakes his head again, but quickly this time.  “Remember what I told you a long time ago?  What your best weapon is?”

You… do not.  He told you so many things, and you’re assuming every single one of them is going to come into play during this endeavor if you want to outlast.  You’re going to have to think back and remember all of them individually, find the time to figure out your best plan of action based on the remarkably little you know about how he hunts.

“You’re smart, remember?”  Din murmurs, squeezing your fingers.  “Your mind works differently, it sees things in ways I’ll never be able to, not even with this helmet.  So…”  He shrugs a shoulder like it’s the simplest thing in the galaxy.  “Don’t try to outrun, okay?  Just try to outsmart.”

You give him a nod after a moment, still not really sure about it, before giving his hand one last squeeze in return and eventually letting go.  

Outsmart.  Outsmart him, use what you know about him to be the most elusive quarry he’s ever hunted down.

As you make your way down the ramp, you’re already thinking.  His helmet tracks footprints, that’s a thing you know.  You’ll have to find someone to trade shoes with, then—yours aren’t too beat up, maybe you can find a local who’d appreciate a better pair.  Are you going to a city?  Would there be one in walking distance?  The wilderness won’t work, you’ll be too exposed and it would make you an easy target for either him or wild animals.  The weather seems clear here though, and you don’t think you’ll need to worry about rain or snow, but if—

“Oh—but when you do see me,” Din decides to add when your feet finally touch the grass, and you pause once more to turn around and look at him.  He stays quiet for a second, studying you through the helmet for too long.  Like the anticipation is getting to him already.

You bite your lip back at him and adjust the bag on your shoulder, tummy swirling with nerves and excitement.  He tilts the visor up, gazing down at you from the hull with the kid tucked in his arms.

“Try to outrun,” he says gruffly, before turning back into the ship and letting the ramp slowly close behind him.

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

Whumptober* Day 20: It’s Been a Long Day

*We’re getting silly again, folks.

This is another piece that hinges on gender stuff, but not in any deep and-or-introspective sense; it just... is. It’s also one that might ring a bell for anyone who’s read some of the incomplete works I’ve posted. That exchange stuck with me, what can I say?

---

It was both oddly comforting and keenly disheartening to learn that medical protocols existed in the event that a person arrived in this time, displaced from their own. Emmet would have vastly preferred it if families weren’t torn apart in a way so specific that there was an established gamut of tests to run, but at least there were safety measures in place to ensure the victims’ well being.

He was so, so sick of medical facilities. His own stint into the past had been brief, but still necessitated decontamination and a period of isolation; the first he bowed to, the second he raised a fuss over until they conceded that, having spent weeks together, it was likely the twins had long since been exposed to anything the other carried.

After that, the concerns had turned to more general fare. While Ingo was doing perfectly fine by Hisuian practices, according to modern standards… no. No, he wasn’t. There had been half a dozen concerns to address right off the bat-- malnutrition, readjusting to medications, and a partial detransition among others-- all compounded by the fact that Hisui-era Sinnoan was only mostly compatible with its current day variant.

They’d spent a good portion of time back in Hisui working through Emmet’s half-remembered Sinnoan and Ingo’s archaic version to come to a mostly-accurate understanding of what the other meant when he spoke. It worked wonders in alerting one’s sibling to the presence of an angry alpha or pretentious warden, but was less than ideal for conveying technical jargon.

On the bright side, though, the railway terminology was practically 1:1 from the get go. Small mercies.

Still, the language barrier was a substantial issue, and, both unfamiliar with contemporary practices and unable to understand the offered translations, Ingo frequently deferred to Emmet’s interpretation. It was a role he wasn’t wholly comfortable with, but if the alternative was the problems going unaddressed, he would take it up.

So now here they were, weeks after returning to their era of origin and only just getting home. Any remaining concerns were less a matter of immediate health complications, and more corrective or therapeutic treatments-- and none was more vexing than Ingo’s persisting slouch.

He’d endured a number of back injuries, yes, but there didn’t seem to be any major damage to his spine or shoulders. When asked, he had denied that he was in any pain, so it wasn’t a reactive response. Theoretically it could have been genetic, but he also had this funny thing called an identical twin who didn’t share the ailment.

It was exhausting for everyone involved, and by the time the third round of testing was over, Emmet was beyond happy to collapse into the sofa. After a few minutes passed and he’d had time to gather his wits, he peered out from beneath the arm tossed over his face. Across the room, Ingo plucked at the back brace he’d been recommended, looking as if it had personally offended him.

Yeah, that… that was a problem for future Emmet.

And it would turn out to be a problem for future Emmet, but also a solution-- because, physically incapable of curling his shoulders forward, Ingo subconsciously found a new way around the underlying issue: as soon as they’d managed to apply the brace as per the instructions, he folded his arms over his chest.

It took about half an hour for Emmet to notice, but he maintained the posture that entire time. Even while trying to do other things, one forearm would remain pressed to his body. The reluctance to drop it was puzzling… until it wasn’t.

“Question,” Emmet said, after observing his brother’s attempts to fight Gliscor away from one of their model train sets singlehandedly, “You would have been wearing a sleeveless black undershirt when you arrived in Hisui. What happened to it?”

He was rewarded with a blank stare. “I’m not familiar with with a garment of that nature. If it was on my person at that time, it was likely shredded in the Zoroark attack and subsequently discarded by the clan medic.”

“Yup. Okay. So you are attempting to minimize your chest.”

As if in response, Ingo raised his other arm to join the first, further obscuring the curve of his breasts.

Well there it was. Got it in twelve.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Emmet circled around behind his twin and took him by the shoulder, steering him back down the hall to their bedrooms.

“We are identical.” He said somewhat unnecessarily, “I have them as well. You are being ridiculous.”

Ingo shot him a dubious look, first to his face and then, briefly, to his chest. Though it didn’t release his hold, the hand nearest Emmet gestured at the difference between them.

“That is due to my binder. You own a number of them as well. We will reestablish how to use them safely. If I am correct and that resolves the matter of your slouch, you may be rid of the back brace.”

Arceus above, all this confusion and it had been something so simple. Emmet couldn’t be mad, though; it was actually kind of funny.

This matter, at least, they didn’t need a doctor to settle.

[erensrag]

bimbo!reader x judgmental nerd eren

eren x y/n (wc: 3173)

warnings: nswf, slut shaming, slight dubious consent

i don’t think i did this correctly….

"no please, take your time. it's not like we've been here for hours." eren's sharp voice brings you out of your thoughts.

his piercing gaze is right there to meet yours when you finally stop staring at the wall. you chew on your pencil, quickly diverting your attention to the paper in front of you. you've done your best to avoid looking at him the majority of the time you've been here.

it's not your fault you can't look into his eyes for longer than a second. he's the one who's always observing you with that cold, calculating stare. you've been on the end of judgmental looks and not so quiet whispers for years now and have learned to not let them bother you—well you thought you mastered the art of simply ignoring those kinds of people. until eren.

you didn't even know he existed until a few weeks ago. the introduction for you two consisted of a simple bumping into each other in the crowded hallways of school, it ended with him bitterly muttering something about idiot cheerleaders as he stumbled away. not even sparing you a second glance. after that, you saw him often and he made his dislike for you evidently clear.

which makes no sense. how can someone not like you?

it's usually jealous girls giving you the stink eye and making up the ridiculous rumors. they're the ones who don't want to associate themselves with you. not nerdy nobodies who can't walk without stumbling over their own two feet. no, people like him usually worship the ground you walk on. or at least drool a little.

seriously you've tried everything to get rid of that menacing stare and frigid tone he always greets you with. it's like he's immune. "jesus y/n, how dumb are you?"

and they definitely don't talk to you like that. you know you're not the brightest, which is why your teacher got this jerk of a nerd to tutor you right before exam week but is that really an excuse for him to treat you like this? biting the inside of your cheek, you nudge a corner of your sweater until your left shoulder is exposed. leaning forward and batting your eyelashes which gets no response from him other than a blank stare. "i'm not dumb. i just don't get it." you pout. "can't you just tell me the answer? we've spent like thirty minutes on this question."

"thirty minutes cause you're an idiot." he mutters more to himself.

"i'm trying my best!"

"you should've learned this months ago. you would've if you didn't spend your time skipping class to hang out with your pig muscle boyfriend."

"he's not my boyfriend..." you go back to chewing on the pencil.

"so you just make out with any guy behind the bleachers?"

"you seem to know a lot about me." you look at him again, that stupid cold stare looking back at you through those glasses.

"who doesn't. you're y/n. the whole school knows of your...activities."

"those are just rumors." some of them are. most are true. you enjoy living life to the fullest. it's not your fault the people in your school saw a confident, attractive woman and instantly decided to put less than appealing labels on her. "and besides they're none of your business."

"whatever. just solve this, this is taking longer than our usual sessions and my mom will be home soon."

you groan, looking down at the textbooks and not understanding a single word. “please just tell me the answers.” you ask one last time, desperate.

“no.”

you huff, returning your attention to the book. “you’re going to age badly with all that scowling you do. just so you know.”

“shut up.”

"eren..." you say after five minutes which causes a frustrated sigh to leave his lips. "do you have an issue with me?" it's been four sessions of the frigid tension he always puts between you two and there's a lot more to come before graduation so you just want to get whatever problems he has with you out of the way.

it takes a few seconds before he's looking up from the textbook, pushing his glasses up as he sends you probably the most intimidating glare you've seen from him. "excuse me?" the very tone of his voice has goosebumps forming on your skin but you force yourself to stand your ground. you're not going to let some loser who's probably never even kissed someone to look down on you.

"you— you just seem to—"

"i don't have an issue with you y/n." he slams the book on the table causing you to jump. "having an issue with someone like you would imply i care enough and trust me i'll never care for such a ditzy little slut who doesn't respect herself."

you've been called worse than that and usually by scorned boys you hooked up with. but they were popular gym rats, not some overconfident lanky freak. you had a snarky reply on the tip of your tongue but with the cogs in your brain suddenly malfunctioning, you could only stutter out a pathetic, "i—i'm none of those things!"

"really?" he scoffs, actually getting up and walking over and as he does you think maybe it would've been a safer option to just keep your mouth shut. "wide doe eyes without nothing behind them. check." he starts. "plump lips perfect for what you do best. check." and the asshole has the nerve to slowly swipe his fingers across your bottom lip.

you should stand up, tell him to go to hell and get out of here but you're frozen. limbs not moving an inch as he continues, "empty little head. check. skimpy outfits to attract attention. check. i mean let's face the facts.."

you never would've thought the loser that always sits in the back of the class with his nose buried deep in a book would speak like this to you. it's insulting. freaking degrading. he knows nothing about you and yet he has that expression on his face like he does. "if i'm such a ditzy little slut as you so nicely put then i'd be jumping at the chance to hook up with you but here we are." you seethe.

that seems to finally strike a nerve as he scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. you cut him off before he can defend himself.

"is that it...you're angry i haven't made a move on you because that's what sluts do isn't it? bone everything they see? is your pride wounded that i don't see you in that way, eren?" you let out a mirthless laugh. "well news flash, pretty girls like me don't go for freaks like you."

you got up, ready to grab your things and run out all while trying to ignore the nerves inside of you. he just stands there, rigid and glaring. "really?" he asks once your books are back in your bag.

"y—yes. now if you'll excuse me—" your wrist is being grabbed before you can take another step and for a second both of you are stunned, you mostly frozen in your spot because this creep has the audacity to touch you after everything he just said. you don't know what his excuse is but he only stands there like a shocked puppy before pushing you on the desk.

a gasp escapes your lips at being manhandled by him  of all people, what the fuck is he doing? you're on your stomach, feet on the ground as the fucker puts a hand on your back, keeping you there. "w-what are you doing?" you pant out, bewildered at everything that just happened.

"i..." he trails off, not saying anything before manhandling you again. only this time it's for you to lay on your back and fuck, you could fight back. he's surprisingly strong for such a lanky freak but you're a cheerleader who does complex moves out on the field almost every day. you could kick him off, slam that big textbook in his face to the point his nose breaks and run out, making sure to report him.

but you don't. it's not that you can't. for some reason, you just don't want to. maybe it's curiosity, to see what exactly he plans on doing. to see if a loser like him actually has the balls to do anything but back away and apologize profusely.

"you're not fighting back." he simply says, sounding a bit confused as he comes to lean over your body. his hands on either side of your head as he stares down, those stupid piercing eyes staring down at you. "why?"

"shouldn't i be the one asking the questions here? like why the fuck you have me on this desk?"

he raises an eyebrow, leaning back and grabbing your thighs causing you to squeal in surprise. he spreads them, raising the dress you’re wearing until it's pooling at your stomach before you can even blink.

shit. what's wrong with him?

what's wrong with you? you should be kicking at him, you could easily shove him off. you could do it in a blink of an eye so why the hell aren't you.

where there's supposed to be fear...there's only anticipation. "you really are a slut." he laughs cruelly, pulling your panties down until they're completely off. where he throws them, you don't know. probably in some corner to hide so you forget about them, who knows what a pervert like him would do with it?

"you barely know me and yet...look at this." you shudder as his finger circles your clit before swiping across your cunt, bringing his hand up to show you your slick as if for emphasis.

"shut up." you grit through your teeth. "you're—" you don't have time to finish your insult before he's kneeling down, tongue immediately latching onto your clit.

your nails instantly scrape against the desk, shuddering as he begins to suckle on your clit. his tongue delves into you, fingers digging into your thighs on purpose as if the freak wants to hurt you. you can play that game too if he wants, fingers going to grab at the strands of his dark hair, pulling as you ground your hips against his annoyingly experienced tongue.

usually, your sexual partners don't willingly choose to eat you out but here is he. practically eager to get to business. he acted so high and mighty and still has the gall to continue doing so yet he's the one on his knees right now. freaking nerds are so easy. even overly judgmental ones with sharp gazes.

he’s basically lapping at you, moving from sucking your clit to eagerly drinking up your juices. never coming up for air as if he was made to simply do this. "f—fuck." you didn't want to make any noises, any implications that what he's doing is actually making you feel good but dammit it's hard when a tongue is diving deep into your most sensitive parts.

a particular bite has you instantly bringing your legs together but he quickly grabs them, forcing them apart to shove his face in between your thighs again. your breath catches in your throat as he licks up your dripping pussy. he doesn’t relent even once and the moans won’t stop escaping your lips, “sl—slow down. gonna…dammit.”

his tongue licks…freaking everywhere. the obscene noises causing you to hang your head back, he’s licking and sucking everything up as if it’s his favorite meal.

and it’s embarrassing. how fast you come. but how can not you? you mercilessly pull at his hair and shamelessly moan when you do. somehow you're the sweating and panting one as he stands up. "so that's what all the hype is about?" he tsk, seemingly bored.

it takes a few seconds for you to find the breath to say “don't act like you didn't enjoy that, with the way you were eagerly—”

"shut up." he takes his glasses off, putting them to the side before grabbing your thighs and pulling you closer to him.

"you're disgusting, you know? the nerve you have—"

"i spent the last two hours teaching you simple biology and somehow you couldn't do one question by yourself, if i'm testy that's all on you.

"it's not my fault." it comes out as a whine and you hate it, you were supposed to be insulting him. at least have some pride when you're about to be fucked by the guy who looks at you like you're nothing but a dirty piece of gum.

"shut up, for crying out loud. shut up." his voice is raspy as he unbuckles the belt to his revolting khakis.

you can't help as your eyes widen once his cock is in view. for such a nerd, he's actually packing. one hand holds your hips as the other guides his dick towards your leaking area and slight panic starts to take over. "a-aren't you gonna prep?" as orgasmic as that oral job was, you doubt just that will be enough to prepare you for that.

he grins, probably the first smile you've ever seen on his annoyingly handsome face. "don't worry, i'm sure a slut like you has a loose enough cunt."

"you little shit! that's—" your words get caught in your throat, back arching as he moves his hips forward, piercing inside of you. "fuck."

a broken sound leaves your lips as he continues to push his length in. it doesn't hurt like you expected it to but there's still a strong ache that you know will leave you limping tomorrow morning. it burns, burns so good you have to squeeze your eyes shut. you need something to hold onto as he starts to move, anything to give you some sort of balance but the flat surface underneath you offers no help. "ngh...eren..." you're not sure what you want to say but he doesn't give you time to think of something before he sets a rhythm.

it's surprisingly slow at first, like he wants you to feel every vein on his cock and you do. your walls desperately clench around him as you bite on your bottom lip, the room suddenly feeling too hot as his fingers grab your chin, forcing you to look at him. into that stupid gaze he won't stop staring at you with. his mouth is slightly open but no sound comes out. he's perfectly collected and you hate it. people like him should be cumming the second you touch them but he's...it's annoying.

his pace starts to speed up—he doesn't even give it another second before he's ramming inside of you. holding your hips with both hands as he sets a brutal pace that has you moving up and down the desk. "p-pretty decent for a nerd—ah!"

still, he stays silent. ugh, what's wrong with him? you bring your arm up to your mouth, muffling the moans spilling out of your lips in spite but his hands are immediately pulling them off. he chuckles, coming close enough that his breath fans against your face and a lewd moan comes out of you as he hits an even deeper spot. "don't do that, we all know this is what you want. to be fucked hard and fast to the point you're nothing but a mindless whore whose only purpose is to scream in pleasure."

you don't respond, biting down hard on your lips. his thrusts became more aggressive as he scoffs, "fine." his hand finds its way to your throat, squeezing slightly.

you suck in a shuddering breath just as his hold tightens, bordering on dangerous but for some reason the lack of air only makes your pussy throb, clenching tight around him. why does it feel good? why does everything he's doing to you only make you want more? his thrusts have now gotten erratic, almost forcing your body off the desk but the hold on your hips and throat keep you right where you are. you want to let out the moan clawing out from inside your throat but his grip stays, merciless as he pounds into you.

you don't know how much of this you can take, everything feels too hot. it's too much. "fuck look at you, didn't think you could look even more dumb." he pants, staring down. he finally removes his hand from your throat and you cry out the second he does.

"eren, please i'm—fuck...too much, it's too much." you gasp even though a sick part of you knows you could do this all night.

but right now...with the way his voice is dripping with cockiness— you hate it, hate the way he looks at you and talks to you. it's infuriating and too much. a tsk comes out of his mouth, "who knew you had a limit?" he rolls his eyes and in the next second, he's spilling inside of you. spilling and spilling until some drip on the floor.

like he's been holding himself back all this time.

fuck. he could've at least let you release a second time. you didn't think the asshole would be finishing right after you said that. you're panting, eyes staring at the white ceiling as he pulls out. he zips up his stupid ugly looking khakis as he steps back. "can you get off my desk now?"

the nerve of him...ugh. you slowly sit up, dress sticking to your skin due to the sweat and you have to refrain from asking to use his shower before leaving.

he gets you your bag and you slowly take it, throat aching and dry. there'll definitely be bruises around your throat and hips tomorrow and you're sure he's secretly delighted at that fact. "uh...." you trail off.

this is usually the part where they ask for your number, pleading for a second night with that desperate look in their eyes but he doesn't even send you another glance as he gathers up the papers on the desk, putting them into a binder. "make sure to study before sleeping tonight...if your body can handle that." his lips slightly curve up at that last part but he's not bragging, no just mocking you.

"o...okay." you lick your dry lips, suddenly needing a mint. "uh...bye?" you stand up too fast, cursing at yourself for it but his arm is around your hips before you can fall.

you bite the inside of your cheek, the proximity too close even though he was just inside of you a minute ago. he sighs, "do you need a ride home?" he asks grudgingly.

and you should say no. you don't need to be in an enclosed space with this asswipe for another second. just say no and walk into class the next day, demanding for another tutor. and then you'll never have to talk to him ever again.

but instead a weak nod comes out.

[my-mt-heart]

TWD 11x09 “No Other Way” Review

And so once again, our ship is saved thanks to…CONTEXT! I’m going to get into the specifics of the *dreaded* reunion further down, but I just wanted to say up top that if you were concerned it would tread too closely to familiar territory, don’t be. Terminus it is not, my friends. Not at all. As it turns out though, there is a lot more ground to cover in this episode than that ten second shot, including a very subtle Caryl moment that I caught, so here we go. 

The reviewers weren’t wrong about the amount of action. There’s a lot of fast-paced intercutting between Reaper and walker battling and it’s almost dizzying. The gore and the suspense were definitely overhyped (like certain other things). To me, the scenes played out like a live-action comic book, cheesy dialogue and convenient time cuts included. Not my cup of tea, but that’s okay. I’m in it for the characters anyway.

As we already know, Daryl will seize any opportunity he can to try to save someone to the detriment of his own self worth if he fails, but right off the bat, he seems to be coming around to the idea that Leah is a losing battle. When he suggests using Carver as a bargaining chip (how did ninja Carver lose that fight?), Maggie even asks him if he’s “doing this for her,” and he says, sounding sincere, that he’s doing it for their family because it’s the only way they get out alive. Unlike Maggie or Leah, Daryl has reached an understanding that survival doesn’t always have to mean killing each other and offers Leah and the three or four other Reapers still breathing (the rest either got blown up or stabbed to death in very comical ways) the chance to head north and to never be seen again. Leah’s not budging, still maintaining that “whatever it takes” attitude and orders a sniper to kill Maggie and co, but the episode’s MVP, Gabriel, turns the tables on her when he kills the sniper and threatens to shoot the remaining Reapers. 

Both groups renegotiate with the intention of letting each other go their separate ways. A very injured Elijah doesn’t like this because he wants revenge on Carver, who is in fact the one who killed his sister. Maggie doesn’t like this either, unable to forget what the Reapers had taken away from her, so she shoots them all down while the entire time, Negan remains a casual observer to a hilarious degree. The only one who survives is Leah, and Daryl basically sentences her to a life of solitude, telling her she could’ve had a second chance. The sentiment is very close to what he’s said to Carol multiple times about starting over, and there’s a juxtaposition to be made between Leah's refusal to do so and Carol’s increasing determination to do so, which Daryl is bound to pick up on if he hasn’t already.   

I know many were eager for Leah to just be killed off, the sooner the better. Personally, I’m of two minds. On one hand, I think it’s laughable that Kang rarely kills off characters even when the number of characters to service continues to rise. A highly controversial character like Leah should theoretically lead to major payoff, but so far she (and the entire Reaper arc in general) have mostly just fallen flat and as it stands, I’m wary of how much she can contribute to the story moving forward aside from seeking vengeance for her family. Pause. Let’s take a beat to digest that. Who else nearly lost themselves trying to get revenge on someone who took their family away? These juxtapositions are juicy as hell to me, but are they worth the limited screen time at this point? That’s the question. 

Now the reason I’m not mad about Leah being alive is that as long as she is, there is still a chance to make up for what’s missing. It’s no secret that I want Leah to meet Carol. They both share a strong connection to Daryl, which is reason enough for them to cross paths at some point, but the similarities (and differences) highlighted between them present an opportunity for them to learn a lot about themselves, much like looking in a mirror. That is my humble opinion on the matter. That will always be my opinion. I’m fully aware of the likelihood that they’re going to shift focus to a Maggie and Leah rivalry instead, which as I’ve said before is far less interesting given their lack of personal history.

Maggie has a really powerful scene in the church where she finds Alden’s walker and breaks down crying, but other than that I find myself frustrated with the direction of her character and that’s really hard for me to say because I do love Maggie. I’ve always been and always will be Team Maggie when it comes to the conflict between her and Negan, which has unfortunately been wishy washy the whole season.  Not that I think there was ever a chance for much resolution between them, but for Negan to just end up exiling himself, landing in the same position as we saw him in the bonus episodes, I’m just struggling to see the point of it all. What have we gained from it? What have we gained from watching Maggie carry out her vendetta against the Reapers? I understand the show is trying to do right by Lauren Cohan and wrap up what is presumably her last arc in a big way. I understand that means Maggie has to be a big presence. What I don’t understand is why Kang and co want to resort to making her ruthless/reckless, especially after seeing it backfire so hard with Carol, Michonne, and Daryl to a lesser degree (because men’s actions are easier to forgive I say sarcastically). What I also don’t understand is why supersizing Maggie’s role has to mean minimizing Carol’s. 

My biggest criticism of this episode and the whole season so far is that Carol has barely had any significant screen time.  She had a few lines to Aaron during the rain storm, but nothing memorable whatsoever. I don’t need her to be the badass hero every time. I’d gladly take a good heart-to-heart if it means helping her move past certain emotional obstacles. A conversation between her and Connie about what happened in the cave is the first thing that comes to mind. To clarify, I’m happy other characters are getting their time to shine. I’m happy to see Connie and Kelly tell each other to stay safe to showcase their unbreakable bond, I’m happy Judith gets to have her own adventure without being in the shadow of one of the adults, I’m happy Aaron gets to be super dad, rescue Judith and Gracie, and tell Lydia that he would do the same for her. But if Daryl’s not taking a back seat until he rides off into the sunset, neither should Carol. I want to sit in her perspective while she’s supposedly experiencing personal growth the same way we get to with Daryl. 

After all the action winds down, Daryl confides in Gabriel that he’s been wondering if choices even matter and Gabriel, who’s own struggles are depicted through the Reaper priest acting as his mirror image, advises Daryl to just have faith. I think this represents a small turning point for Daryl, who has always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and is now realizing that not everything is in his control. There was never anything he could do for Leah, and that’s okay because life has given him something much better. 

It’s curious that right off a shot of Daryl by the fire, we transition to Carol who is peering over Alexandria’s walls, just staring off into the distance. I can’t help but wonder if this is hinting she might be thinking about Daryl, just as he may have been thinking about her. Obviously she has good Daryl radar because moments later, there he appears with Dog, the others following behind him with a cart full of food. 

Daryl immediately seems really happy to be back in Alexandria and I think it’s worth noting that Judith, RJ, Lydia, and Carol are the first wave of people to greet him, representing the family he’s been blessed with due to circumstances outside of his control. Yes, his hug with Carol feels brief and undercuts where they started at the beginning of the season, but I think this could be because Daryl is heeding Gabriel’s advice, having faith that he and Carol are strong enough to get through anything together. Of course I would have liked to see more after waiting patiently all this time, but I don’t believe Angela Kang is neglecting Caryl necessarily. She tends to place emotional conversations where they count the most and she may have thought placing one here, since it’s too early for canon, would retread what we saw in 10x16. Do I think it’s absurd that their emotional breakthroughs with each other can’t be interspersed or built upon? Do I think Kang is overestimating the power of silent communication? Yes and yes. I absolutely do. Don’t get me wrong. The only point I’m trying to make is that just because the gratification doesn’t come here, doesn’t mean it’ll never come. 

Meanwhile, the Daryl and Connie reunion feels like a more timely emotional beat to hit because it’s probably going to launch Daryl and Carol (yes, Caryl) into their next phase of conflict i.e. Carol assuming Daryl would be better off with Connie romantically. As for the tone of it, the same score playing over the simultaneous family reunions continues here, emphasizing joy and relief on top of the joy and relief Daryl is already charged with. The “run” is more of a short hop/skip, there’s no nuzzling, there’s no lifting anyone off their feet. It reads very platonic to me, especially Connie’s bro punch to Daryl’s chest. 

The camera does pan over to Carol who is smiling, observing Daryl’s happiness from the sidelines. Not a literal POV shot, but the intent is still to give us Carol's POV, which I think is twofold. For one thing, it shows that Carol no longer has to carry the burden of potentially killing someone’s sister and friend. Better yet, it reinforces that anything between Daryl and Connie she may later claim to be romantic is a product of her own imagination. From an outsider’s perspective, it looks completely innocent. No other character beside Carol is even watching. Not even Dog, who is busy eating an apple. 

Some will undoubtedly interpret Carol’s smile as an absence of jealousy and therefore a lack of romantic feelings for Daryl, but here’s the thing. Carol’s love for Daryl – yes that love – is so strong, she is compelled to place his happiness above all else. Just like Daryl had done when she told him she was marrying Ezekiel. But unlike Daryl who felt “saudade,” Carol doesn’t feel like she’s suffering a personal loss because she’s convinced herself Daryl has never been nor ever can be hers to lose (in that way). Part of Carol’s journey is finding her worth again, and in many ways she is starting to do so on her own, but when it comes to Daryl specifically, I think he himself will have to set her straight, and I think it’s going to come as a big shock to Carol (and the audience!!) while she’s still expecting him to move forward with Connie. I have a lot more to say about that, about Carol’s headspace, and how it all ties into hers and Daryl’s story at the Commonwealth, but it’s probably best to save it for episode 10 (assuming it still makes sense after I see the episode). One last thing to mention is that while Eugene and Lance are doing their spiel, we see Dog sitting close to Carol, and in my head, it’s because he missed her most of all. 

Overall, I found this episode to be particularly anticlimactic and am curious to see how things shake out at the Commonwealth. We are indeed getting a Caryl scene per the episode trailer so there’s that. I’ll admit, I’m a little nervous to be confined to this new environment because of how starkly different it is from the ZA world I fell in love with, but we’ll see. We got a glimpse of Daryl’s and Maggie’s opposing philosophies while dealing with the Reapers and it seems they are the two close friends who are going to be facing off with each other (while Daryl proceeds to look silly in his armor). To sum up my feelings about this possible conflict…meh. I’m assuming it’s probably not what it looks like. Also, it just further positions Daryl and Maggie as the two biggest protagonists, which irks me. 

Welp. We weathered the first storm, babes. Seven more to go. (Wow I’m pretty sure watching my favorite show is not supposed to feel like this.)

[whaleofatjme1920]

The Ends of Hallways (Proxies X F!Reader)

The Ends of Hallways

[Proxies X F!Reader]

[Warnings: slight language]

[AN: Y'all are just gonna have to thank Eris for always sending me the best requests. I don't have favorites,,, but Reader, I have favorites. Also no Kate sorry :( ]

Your face was practically squished against the glass of the car Hoodie had stolen as the four of you pull into the parking lot of woods that brim with the Operator’s energy. You’ve never seen these woods in person - only in dreams. You’ve never even really seen your master in person, once again, like these woods, he too has been confined to your dreams. But you hear him, and often. His voice falls down on your ears like gentle rains that fall from the heavens. He is everything and more. That is why it is so exciting for you to finally be here, so close to him, and to his presence.

“You excited?” You hear your group leader ask.

You nod and press harder up against the glass. “Are we going now?” You’re ready to bounce out of the car and everyone can see that.

He chuckles in response. “What do you think Hood? Time to go?”

The hazel eyed man behind him shoots the driver a look. “Masky, just look at her, she’s gonna break the window if we don’t.” There’s a slight playfulness in his tone that tells you the right hand really isn’t annoyed with you.

“Fair enough,” Masky smiles. He then reaches behind his seat, hand slapping at who used to be the runt’s knee. “Tobes? Tob-Tobes, get up.”

Toby’s eyes shoot open as he lurches forward. “I’m u-u-up, I-I’m u-up,” he yawns as his hands rub tiredly at his eyes. “Are w-w-we here a-alaready?” He asks, the exhaustion still clear in his tone.

Both of the men in the front seats nod. “C’mon, let’s get going,” Hoodie says as he pulls up the lock on his car door before sliding out.

You wait impatiently for Masky to unlock the car then zip out like a bat from hell. You’re immediately at the edge of one of the forest’s many trails and taking in the sights and sounds of your boss’s woods. They’re beautiful, really. The autumn colors bathe the woods in fiery oranges and passionate reds with threads of gold to interlock it all together. The sky is just the slightest shade of blue as clouds cover the sun. There weren’t any people here either - not under the little structures, not exploring, not anyone but you and your comrades.

“Wrong one,” Hoodie says as he closes the trunk to the car before tossing a backpack to Toby, who catches it like second nature.

You whip your head around to see that Masky, Hoodie and Toby are smiling at how excited you are before silently asking you to follow them. “Where are we going?” You ask, eyes wide as you jog up to them.

“Across the field. There’s this cool tunnel of trees we think you’ll appreciate,” Masky replies as he leads his group across the grass. It crunches slightly as the four of you move, like it hasn’t been watered in a long time.

“R-Really?” Toby hums as he puts his hands in his pockets. “You s-s-sure we’re n-not gonna be l-late?” The young proxy gives a slight look to his group leader, eyebrow raised as if he’s sure the Operator is okay with them possibly being tardy.

Masky shakes his head before tapping his temple with his free hand, “he told me it’s okay.”

“He did?” You ask as stars cloud your eyes. The Operator, as you’ve heard so far, is to be feared and respected. He’s like a father you can look at but never touch. He seems so out of your range, like he’s not even visible - not even if you squint your eyes. You wonder what makes you so… interesting… in his eyes. You really don’t think you’re worth all the fuss. Clearly he does.

Masky chuckles before ruffling your hair with his hand, “yeah. I think he finds your enthusiasm endearing.” Masky’s not entirely incorrect. When they first got Toby, the Operator was strangely favorable towards the young proxy as well - maybe because he was hand plucked, special, and therefore deemed worthy of his time. You were similar to Toby, albeit, you accidentally got involved with the Operator. He liked you, chose you, then kept you.

Hoodie whistles slightly as the four of you step into the trees, his gloved hand reaching up to tear off a branch from one of the low hanging trees then swing it aimlessly as his side. “Seems pretty obvious in my opinion,” he whacks Toby lightly with the stick making said proxy laugh. “Looks like Toby isn’t the only golden child anymore.”

“P-Probably not,” Toby hums, a slight melancholy coming into his tone. “Think I-I’ve been losing f-f-favor with h-hin for a w-while.” He glances over his shoulder and smiles at you.

You frown slightly and place your hand on his shoulder, “I don’t think so,” you say. “Just means he has two golden child-s now.”

Toby beams.

You do too.

The group continues to move through the trees, mostly silent save for Masky and Hoodie pointing out little memories from time to time. Things such as some guy named ‘Alex’ chasing them through here, Masky’s waking up with no memory, Hoodie’s nature shots, and everything in between. You learn a lot about the hands of your group from when they were just scared film students to the things they’ve done as proxies here. It’s kind of nice as you’ve never really spoken to them this way before.

When you first came into this life and were placed in this group, the hazing process kicked in like wildfire. Almost every day was a mentally or physically, sometimes both, a draining task and a bonding agent. Authority was not to be questioned and they made that more than clear. Eventually, the hazing grew lighter and lighter until it just… didn’t exist. That was how it went - you were no longer considered naive and starry eyed. Still, authority was not to be questioned, and it’s why you and your comrades have never really talked on this specific level before.

It’s why it’s such a treat that you get to talk to them like this now.

Eventually, the four of you make it to an odd stretch of trees. They tunnel over each other, a lot like a thorny funnel, but they frame the sky so well.

“If the sun was setting,” Masky starts. “It would look like a cradle.”

You take a step back and observe the tunnel of trees, trying to imagine the setting sun. The mental image is pretty. “Will we ever be back here to see it?”

“Oh definitely,” Masky continues. “But uh, the business we’re here for today? Don’t know if that’s meant for anyone but me and maybe Hoodie.”

You look on instinct to Hoodie who nods. “Is that normal?”

“Sure is,” Hoodie says as he takes in the scent of the cooling autumn woods. He knows the group is almost to the limits of the Operator’s realm. “Tell me what you feel right now, Reader,” he says in passing as he flicks the stick somewhere off the given trail.

With a glance around at your surroundings, you attempt to get a feel for the area you’re in. It’s cold, much colder, but the atmosphere still feels a little thick. The further you go into the woods (and by extension the Operator’s bounds to which you don’t even know exist yet), you get that odd feeling in your legs that feels like they’ve fallen asleep. It’s like the physical sensation of static. You try to explain it in words, but they fail. Instead, you allow Hoodie into your thoughts.

“Nice,” he smiles. “Alright, try to ask for permission in.”

“I need to ask for permission?”

“E-Everytime,” Toby begins as he and the others pause. They’re right on the edge of the bubble and can feel it so much stronger than you can. “It’s t-to ensure n-normal humans c-can’t come in,” Toby begins to explain as you gaze around your surroundings, wondering how you’ll even begin to ask. “T-Though, their f-feelings sometimes k-kick into o-overdrive and they e-end up p-piercing through the v-veil on a-a-accident.” He chuckles softly and you know exactly what he’s referring to - you’ve heard tales of the people who get stuck wandering where they shouldn’t: always ends in someone strung up in the pines. “W-We’ve all learned t-to ask p-permission like b-breathing.”

You shoot your comrade a confused glance, wondering what that will mean for you. “I just ask?”

“Kind o-of,” Toby says. “Just l-let your f-f-feelings guide you. She’ll t-t-tell you whether you’re a-a-allowed in or not.”

You close your eyes and begin to hone in on whatever your heart is telling you. It’s a cold feeling, mostly like vines that slip up and down your limbs as they grow upwards and then inwards towards your heart. It’s an odd feeling. Once the static vines pierce through your heart, you physically see a fog roll into the forest around you. It consumes you and your comrades before you remember Toby mentioned ‘she.’ The fog thickens. “Wait, she?” You say as the static begins to leave your system. It feels like you’re tearing through roots as you walk forward.

“He didn’t mean it,” Masky quickly replies as he begins to pull you through the fog. “Good job on asking though. Strong response,” he says as gestures to the fog, his hand swimming through the billowy clouds. “Wives’ tale is the stronger the fog, the more genuine you were in response.”

You wade your fingers through the thick fog as you and the others walk forward, deeper and deeper into the darkness where there was none. “Must’ve had a really genuine response, huh?” You mumble to yourself. The fog doesn’t even feel like normal fog - it feels thick and heavy and leaves slight dew on your clothing as you walk. How interesting.

‘Head talk from here on out,’ Hoodie says as the four of you reach a stretch of woods that feels slightly dangerous.

‘Did you feel it too?’ Toby asks, his hand at his hatchet.

Hoodie nods slightly, his eyes narrowing as he slows his pace so he’s guarding the back. He gives you a slightly concerned look as the fog evens out. Everyone but you knows that they’re in perhaps one of the most dangerous parts of the veil. The Operator’s mere presence is usually enough to deter the things like the Rake from his grounds, but that often means they get trapped here - in the in-between - and lash out on the first thing they sense. The sooner the four of you get out of this dangerous spot, the better.

‘What do you sense?’ You ask, cutting mentally through the rough silence, your own hand moving to your blade.

Hoodie looks like he’s about to answer you before he holds his fist up and the other three of you duck down instantly, dipping below the fog. Just then, some deer begin walking past.

‘Deer?’ You say in a questioning tone.

‘Not just any deer,’ Hoodie begins as the deer slowly nibbles on the leaves and other things. ‘Take a good look at their bodies. They look normal to you?’

You narrow your eyes slightly and get used to peering through the fog as the deer pass. Eventually, you’re able to look at their coats. There’s something off about them, something wrong. Something you can’t quite place. The longer you watch them as they move in front of you, the stronger that off feeling gets. They have every physical part of the deer down but it’s just not right. It’s like their joints don’t fit well beneath their skin. And their eyes… Their eyes are completely hollow.

‘You see it?’ Masky asks as the last of the deer passes by. He glances over his shoulder briefly to see you nod. ‘We’re lucky they didn’t change this time,’ he mumbles, slowly inching forward while crouched against the earth.

‘What would’ve happened if they changed?’ You inquire, moving quietly alongside your comrades.

‘Nightmare fuel,’ Toby finally pipes in. ‘Nothing about them looks right. Big mouths full of sharp teeth, black eyes, too many limbs, like a messed up centipede,’ he finishes, a slight shudder coming into his mental tone.

You notice the other two of your group members nodding in agreement before finally deeming it safe enough to stand up and finally exit the in-between of the veil.

You’re greeted to the sight of a beautiful, rustic looking Germanic mansion surrounded by iron gates that hold honeycomb patterns that trail skywards only to end on sharp peaks that you’re almost certain your boss has spiked people on plenty of times. There’s also flowers of every kind in the front gardens that catch your eyes the moment you step through the grand gates. There’s fountains and topiaires, statues and benches that tell you the Operator drips with style and elegance.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Masky smiles.

You nod, “it’s gorgeous.” The air smells slightly expensive, but mostly sweet. How is it that a place like this can even possibly exist? Around the mansion are autumnal trees, mostly maple, some sycamore and other birch. Scattered on the front lawn are other proxies and some independents, mostly catching up and talking before leaving through the same gates you entered from. Some of them smile and wave as they pass you, others grunt and turn their nose up at you upon realizing you’re the youngest. This place sings with the Operator’s overwhelming presence.

Your comrades continue to watch your amused expression as they lead you to the front doors of the mansion. They’re large and stained glass, slightly gothic in woodwork and tower over you.

“Go ahead,” Hoodie chuckles as he nods for you to open the doors.

You glance back to him, then at the large doors before tentatively placing your hands on their surface. With a small breath, you push them open and find yourself greeted to the most exquisite foyer you’ve ever seen. Large chandeliers hang from the ceiling, sapphires and rubies drip from the fixtures and shine the light beautifully across the marble floors. Gold leaf adorns almost everything that juts out while the huge staircase in front of you beckons you forward.

“Doesn’t seem like he needs us yet,” Masky says as he checks his watch. “Got here earlier than expected, huh?” He lightly ribs Hoodie who rolls his eyes in response. “C’mon, let’s go to the sun room. Don’t wanna wait around in here.” He nods for the three of you to follow.

Toby clears his throat slightly as if to remind the two in charge that you’re still very much here and new.

“Oh, right,” Masky says. “Reader, this is super important, so listen up,” your group leader begins as he turns on his heels to eventually rest his hands on your shoulders.

You raise a brow at his sudden contact. Masky normally didn’t touch you unless what he had to say was important - which really, really didn’t happen often.

“This mansion likes to play off your thoughts, feelings, and logic,” he says, his hand gesturing to the staircase that’s slowly moving directions. You didn’t even hear it begin to shift. “The Operator usually keeps things in line for when he summons you, it’s almost a guaranteed path you’ll make it to him, but,” his eyes go serious. “If it’s just you and you’re moving around, you need to have a place in mind or it’ll accidentally spit you out somewhere totally random. We’ve had people get lost in here because the mansion is slightly playful and weirdly baneful depending on the individual walking around.”

“The Operator has a playful side?”

Masky stifles a laugh before shaking you lightly. “I legitimately mean it, you need to have a place in mind or you’re gonna get lost and the Operator isn’t gonna be happy. By extension, I won’t be happy because I need to come get you.”

“Mhm,” Hoodie nods in agreement. “And you can’t have the thought in passing either, it’s gotta be on your mind until it’s in sight.” After Hoodie’s words leave his mouth, Masky lets you go.

You take all the information in and wonder just what makes the place run. It’s like it has its own personality - it’s playful and baneful? You have to ask it permission to even enter its grounds and it deems whether you’re worthy or not? What kind of power does the Operator even have and why on earth would he even care about that kind of stuff? If he truly wanted his proxies to access him, he’d do it with no hesitation. The humans that would wander into his rooms would just end up tasting someone’s blade.

“Sun room?” Hoodie reminds Masky.

Your entire walk to the sun room you try to conjure a mental image in your head. They say it’s doubtful you’ll get lost so long as you’re with them, but you consider it good practice. When you finally make it to the sun room, you’re pleased to see it’s relatively empty save for a few groups interspersed in the large, window adorned room overlooking a silver lake. There’s a few independents walking around with carts holding different tea time finger-foods and waiting tea sets on every table. Maasky leads you over to one of the tables nearest to the view of the lake.

“So, what business exactly are we here for today?” You ask as you waste no time in pouring yourself some tea.

Masky shrugs, “no idea. He said he just wanted us to come.”

“T-Think he r-really only n-needs an audience w-with them though,” Toby adds before silently thanking you for pouring him some tea as well. “L-Leaves us some t-t-time to chat. Y’know, t-the thing H-Hood hates us d-doing,” he lightly jokes.

Hoodie scoffs and feigns being annoyed, “I only hate you two chatting when we’re in the middle of tearing out some guy’s entrails.”

“Y-Yeah, which is a-all the time,” Toby giggles.

You laugh as well.

The four of you are in a heated argument about something relatively stupid when static overtakes Masky and Hoodie’s hearing. They visibly pause, as if they’re trying to key into something you can’t understand when it suddenly stops.

“Have t-to go?” Toby inquires before taking a strawberry tart and popping it into his mouth.

Both Masky and Hoodie nod.

“Yeah. Keep an eye on Reader, please? We won’t be too long,” Masky replies with a small, tired smile.

Toby flashes the two a thumbs up before the both of you watch them leave, a clear destination on their minds.

It’s not long until Toby gets distracted by some other independents that stroll into the mansion. You recognize the two of them as relatively minor legends - well, maybe not the one with the smile. His name is Jeff.

“So, this is your fresh meat, huh?” Jeff chuckles as he lightly pushes Toby’s shoulder. “She looks a little scrawny. Are you feeding her right?”

Toby laughs and nods, “Masky w-w-would lose his m-mind if you s-s-said that.”

Jeff’s chest rumbles as he laughs. “I’m joking,” he holds his hand up as a sign of truce. “Hope you know you’re running with one of the only decent groups out there, Reader,” he says before picking up his tea cup. It looks slightly comical as he brings it to his lips.

You offer him a smile and nod, “yeah, I know.”

The man to Jeff’s left nods in agreement, “Masky’s really good at what he does. Got one of the best.”

Toby immediately fights the notion (playfully) and the three engage in conversation that’s lively and vibrant all the same. You listen to the three verbally duke it out before you find yourself bored. You can’t just leave though, but you want to move at the same time.

“Toby?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I excuse myself?”

“W-Where to?”

“Washroom,” you reply.

“Do y-you need m-me to a-accompany y-y-you?”

Both Eyeless Jack and Jeff scoff.

“She’s a big girl, let her go,” Jeff says as he nods his own approval for you to go. “You told her about the mindset thing?”

Toby nods.

“Yeah, then she’s good to go,” Eyeless Jack agrees.

You flash the men at your table a smile before getting up. You push in your chair and then make it to the entrance of the sunroom, leading into the halls. You don’t have a set destination in mind. The moment you step out of the sunroom, you feel the air change. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s different. On instinct, you turn your gaze over your shoulder to see the sunroom is gone. It’s just hall and lining the hall are doors upon doors.

Alright, you can work with that! A small smile comes to your face as you begin to walk forwards, allowing your curiosity to bloom. The first door you decide to open is one that’s honestly not that exciting. It was just a storage unit. Another was a study. Then it was someone’s room. Another room. And another. How many residence rooms are there?

You close yet another door and then feel a thought come into your head, taking a seat on your train of thought like a butterfly sunbathes on a flower. She - Toby had mentioned it. And you wondered. You let the thought stay. Before you know it, you’re walking through the halls guided by forces you don’t quite understand, and the further you get into the mansion, the stranger the atmosphere becomes. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s not a normal feeling either. You watch as the light fixtures change from something relatively modern and regress into something more vintage. The dust begins to kick up. Irish lace begins to pepper the ceiling. You notice how the doors change style as well. How strange.

Eventually, you reach a dead end stretch of hall. At the very end of this hall is a singular door that looks weathered, as if it was sunbleached and painted over in oils. There’s an elegance to it you can’t quite place, and like a siren song, you find yourself being beckoned to it. Your proxy instincts kick in like second nature the closer you draw to it. You feel your breathing lighten, your steps as well, and you move towards it with a silence that is unmatched - as if you’re floating on air. You draw closer and closer to the door. It’s so magnetic, and you can’t quite explain why/ But closer still you must be to it.

Your hand tenderly grasps the doorknob - it feels like ice - and you twist it open. You wonder if you should be doing this. A part of you feels like you shouldn’t be doing this, but another part of you says this is what you were meant to see. You push the door open ever so slightly, just enough to be able to see inside, but the door is heavy, almost as if it doesn’t want you to. Like it’s trying to protect you from something further. You wonder if it just wishes to keep its secrets.

It’s gorgeous, it truly is. It puts the rest of the mansion to shame. It looks old - perhaps from 16th century Germany and fit for royalty. Plants of all kinds line the walls. They look like emeralds as light shines through their leaves. The sunlight kisses the flowers that sprout from the stalks. Beautiful woodwork surrounds the windows that are covered in fairytale-esque stained glass pieces. The scent is of something much, much sweeter and warmer than the rest of the mansion. Your eyes then draw to the center of the room, where an ornate table sits. There’s gold leaf decorating its legs followed by symbols you can’t really pin down. A tablecloth that looks like it was weaved from the stars above is the only thing that separates a delicate tea set from the precious mahogany table. The tea smells heavenly from where you stand.

Before you can press into the room, you pause upon seeing slender, pale hands take hold of the tea pot. Your eyes follow upwards to the owner of the hands only to see a woman so much more beautiful than the moon in twilight and the sun in the morning. Falling from her shoulders was golden hair that looked like a sea of amber as it cascaded down near the floor. Flowers were woven into it - mostly snowdrops, baby’s breath and queen Anne’s lace. She’s dressed in something from medieval Europe, and never once does her sleeve touch the table. She begins to pour herself some tea, a honey like hum coming from her being as she pours the sweet liquid. Her eyes flick upwards for but a moment when she hears a bird chirping outside. Her eyes are so dark, there exists no white sclera. They’re so dark, like black holes that hide in the depths of space, but you feel as if she holds the universe inside of them. She’s so beautiful, you’re not sure she’s real. A cat has jumped up onto the table, purring at her. When she smiles, your heart sings.

You want to say hello to her and spend time in her presence when you attempt to open the door some more. It creaks slightly. The hinges are ancient. Before you can say anything, the door is slammed shut, sending you flying backwards. You let out a sound of shock before seeing Toby reaching down to get you.

“What t-the hell a-a-are you thinking?” He hisses as he picks you up, grabbing your bicep and beginning to drag you away from the door that still holds your attention. “You r-really just w-wandered off l-like that?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, attempting to get free of his grasp as he continues to pull you along. No matter how hard you smack at him, he doesn’t let go.

“M-Masky said it’s not s-safe for y-y-you to wander o-off. A-And without m-me? D-D-Did you have a-any cognitive t-t-thought when you w-went out on a l-limb like t-that?” He sounds so heated.

You find he’s bringing you back to the sunroom, undoubtedly going to tell Masky and Hoodie about your misbehavior. “Why are you being so weird?” You retort as you attempt to wriggle out of his grasp. “It’s just a room!” You cry out in an exasperated tone.

Toby only reprimands you louder. It’s a losing game.

You eventually find yourself back in the sunroom. Only, instead of Eyeless Jack and Jeff, you see the deeply concerned and slightly pissed off faces of Masky and Hoodie. They’re not happy to see you, and you’re not exactly thrilled to see you either.

“Take a s-s-seat,” Toby says in a harsh tone as he thrusts you back into your seat.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Masky asks, not even attempting to mask his voice because that’s the privilege of being a proxy. You’re able to reprimand your proxies without anyone giving a care.

“You can’t just go off like that,” Hoodie continues as he furrows his brows. “You could’ve gotten-”

“Hurt? This is the Operator’s mansion, what the fuck is gonna hurt me in here other than himself or you two?”

“That’s it,” Masky points out. “He can seriously hurt you if you snoop where you shouldn’t!” His hands grips at your wrist, tightening to a point of pain.

When you feel tears prick your eyes, Hoodie sighs and puts his hand on Masky’s shoulder, “stop it.”

Masky hesitantly lets you go.

“What did you see?” Hoodie asks with a deep sigh, his posture tensing. He’s really hoping you didn’t see the Operator’s trophy room.

You give your comrades a concerned look, not sure whether you should answer or not when Hoodie raises a slight brow. Damn it. You’re emotionally compromised. He’s seeing what he needs to without your permission.

“That’s… Odd…” He says.

Masky glances to Hoodie. “No.”

“Unfortunately, I think yeah,” Hoodie says with a growing frown. He glances to Toby for confirmation, and upon seeing Toby’s nod, says “yeah,” again.

Masky groans and puts his face into his hands, finding comfort in being buried into himself.

You hold your wrist in your hand and lean back in your chair. “Just… What is it you guys aren’t telling me?” You question, hoping they’d just bite the bullet and tell you.

The group shares a look, debating whether they should even say it or not. When no one says anything, you press them again.

“Come on,” you sigh. “It can’t be that bad.”

“It really could be,” Masky says as he finally releases his face from his hands. “No one knows what seeing it does.”

Your eyes widen before you bark a laugh. “What?”

“No, he’s serious,” Hoodie picks up. “Seeing that door is rare, like, rainbow pikachu rare. Proxies think it’s an omen or a bad luck thing. To see it means a group’s eventual demise.”

You briefly scoff at the thought of proxies being superstitious before you remember some of you can actually cast portals. It’s really not that out of pocket.

“N-No one has e-e-ever found o-out though,” Toby shrugs. “W-We just know t-that the g-groups that h-h-have n-normally e-end in death.” He looks a little uncomfortable as he says the words, like there’s a legitimate truth to what he’s saying even though he’d rather it be utter BS.

“To be fair, we thought it was a rumor prior to you sneaking off,” Hoodie says as he tries to calm down his group.

You take in this information with a small frown. How could something that beautiful be that evil or a harbinger of doom? The thought of it left you perplexed as your comrades continued to lecture you on not wandering off until Masky and Hoodie were called away.

“I don’t know if I feel comfortable leaving Reader here with-”

Toby rolls his eyes, “you c-cant just s-say you want m-me to come with i-instead. N-Not need to insult m-my competence a-a-as a babysitter,” he mumbles before glancing down to his hatchets.

Masky sighs and nods for Toby to follow him out. Looks like it’s just you and Hoodie.

“So,” you awkwardly begin, not really sure what to do or what to say.

“So,” Hoodie hums back. “Anywhere you wanted to go?” When he sees the glint in your eyes, he shakes his head. “Like, a normal place. We’re gonna be here for a while while those two are out,” he chuckles, watching as you visibly deflate.

You allow the question to bang around in your head until you nod with a thought in mind. “The library. I’d like to go to the library.”

Hoodie smiles at that suggestion and finishes the rest of his tea before standing up. He stretches for a moment, then leads you to the hallway your original snooping began. You noticed as his thoughts immediately became clouded with the word and vision of ‘library’ as the two of you trekked the halls. As you walked, you barely recognized any of the doors you passed. They weren’t on your radar, which was odd in your opinion as you had opened a lot of door you probably shouldn’t have.

Eventually, you reach two large oak doors. Hoodie pushes them open and you’re greeted to the sight of a beautiful library. It’s impossibly huge - how could such a place exist in the mansion? You’re well aware it’s a huge place, but the fact that all of this is here… It’s bigger than a downtown city library you visited when passing through Chicago a few months ago. The Operator’s influence is beautiful, isn’t it?

“I’m gonna be in the sci-fi section,” Hoodie says as he nods over to the right wing of the library. “It’s on the second floor.” You notice the spiral staircase that leads to what appears to be a balcony - it must stretch backwards forever. “Check in with me in about 15 minutes. Don’t do anything stupid.” It’s surprising how relaxed he’s being with you. You would have expected someone like Hoodie to be a lot angerier and more observational.

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, you nod and flash him a thumb’s up before bounding over to the left wing of the library. Nothing is properly labeled, but you get a strong bout of intuition where everything is. Right now, you’re on the hunt for history.

The aisle that holds the history books looks just as old as you would have expected it to. The books here aren’t any you’ve ever seen in stores either - they’re largely from the time period they’re to be representing. Some are more modern, but you get the feeling that they don’t exist anywhere else but under the Operator’s influence. You find a few books that talk about the early history of proxies, some on independents, but nothing to inform you on what you had found.

It’s honestly a little maddening. You check in with Hoodie when you have to - he asks you to list the spines of the books you’re currently looking at - and then you’re back to your fruitless search. You run up and down the halls of the history section looking for anything when you hear static begin to buzz in your heads. The feeling travels upwards like the vines you felt earlier from your heels to your chest. When they claw deep into your heart, you feel a pull. And once again, like a sailor beckoned to the rocks due to a siren’s song, you follow it.

It twists and turns you through the shelves, making you zip past the few proxies and independents that are currently visiting this wing of the library before you’re drawn to a rotunda. You look backwards and see in the distance the front doors of the library. When did this place get a middle wing? It was just straight shelves and a wall with large windows overlooking the rolling hills of the woods. You turn your attention upwards to the ceiling of the rotunda. There’s a large skylight that allows sunlight to cascade down. Around that are gems you don’t even know the name of that weave a mosaic of something positively divine. You allow your gaze to follow the shaft of warm sunlight down, and there, sitting at a table with a book in hand (it looks like a journal) is the Operator himself.

“S-Sir!” You manage to squeak out as you find yourself startled to be in his presence, Heat rises to your cheeks when he looks up from his book to turn his attention to you.

“How did you get here?” He asks, confusion etching his body as he curiously tilts his head.

Your breath hitches. “I’m so sorry,” you apologize, bowing your head almost immediately. “I don’t know how I got here. It just felt like a pull and suddenly I was here? I was in the left wing and looking over history books and I-” you continue to rattle off until the Operator holds up his hand, silently signaling you to stop. You do so as soon as he asks.

“I-. It’s no matter,” he waves off. “Come, sit down beside me.” An inky black tendril sprouts from his back as he pulls the chair in front of him out, allowing you to sit in his presence.

You will your stone-like legs forward and attempt to gracefully take a seat in front of him. It’s a slightly awkward silence before he speaks again.

“How have you been, Miss Reader?”

“I’m alright,” you reply, voice no higher than a whisper.

The Operator hums. “Good.”

Another pregnant pause.

“Child, where is your book?”

“I uh, didn’t grab one?” You answer softly. You can tell the Operator is looking at you with what he can convey to his fullest as confusion. “When I was pulled here I just.. Followed,” you attempt to explain. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

“And what have you done today?” He asks, giving his passing attention to you like a father would.

You bite your lip before steering the conversation towards the room you saw. “I think I met someone.”

“You did, did you?”There’s a passing interest as if he’s saying ‘that’s nice, honey.’

You nod. “She was in a tea room-”

He pauses.

“I found her by accident-”

He makes sure he’s hearing you correctly.

“Her hair was golden-”

He looks up.

“She had plants-”

He’s sitting upright now.

“She had a cat-”

He leans forward.

“Her smile rivaled the stars-”

He’s focusing so intently on you now.

“Her voice was like honey-”

He entirely focused on you.

“She was beautiful.”

The Operator’s ichor pauses for just a moment as he takes in the description of the woman you described. It makes a part of him sing and another part of him sob. He hasn’t heard of her in so, so long.

When you look up, you see the Operator practically leaned halfway over the table and entirely focused on you. It makes you jump. “I’m sorry,” you apologize sheepishly, thinking you saw something you shouldn’t have. “I wasn’t thinking and I uh, think the mansion led me to her?”

The Operator wordlessly nods. “Was she pouring tea?” He asked, voice so much gentler than anything you could ever expect him to conjure up.

You slowly nod. “She was.”

The Operator suddenly slumps down, making you jolt. You rise on instinct to help him when he waves you back down. “Do you realize who you’ve come into contact with?” He asks.

You shake your head. “I’m afraid not, Sir,” you say with slight remorse.

The Operator chuckles deeply - it rumbles his chest and in your head. “You found her.” He could smile, you were sure it would be from ear to ear if he had the correct facial features. “All these years later and you found her.” He emphasizes you like a bittersweet affirmation.

“Who is she?” You ask softly.

Your boss sits back up again. “Someone who loves me,” his tendril sprouts once again from his back and moves towards you. “Someone who loves you,” it taps your nose. “Someone who loves us.” The tendril makes a grand, sweeping gesture.

You take in the words and nod, still not knowing what they mean. Upon seeing your confusion, he decides to elaborate.

“A long, long time ago, in a realm you could not begin to fathom, there was light and there was dark,” he begins, his voice slipping into something akin to someone saying a bedtime story. “I was the light, and that cur we call Zalgo was the dark.”

You scrunch your nose at the sound of his name.

“The dark and the light were born from nothing, and she was beautiful.” His audible smile is actually endearing to hear. “Throughout the years, the light and the dark fought, constantly at each other's throats. It was woven in the threads of history, it had been our birthright. When we came to this place, this planet after being cast from our home - a palace amongst all palaces, a kingdom that rose far above any other, the nothingness came with us. She called herself Liebevolle Frau. She loved her children.” By this point in the story, the Operator has taken the liquids from the coffee cup he drinks from and animated them into the characters for this story.

You watch with stars in your eyes.

“But no guardian is without its favorites, and I happened to be hers.” Liebevolle Frau’s figure was shown sheltering the Operator’s much smaller one. “And this caused a rift that could not be mended through the light and dark. Eventually, the dark waged war on the light.”

It’s a war you’re still fighting to this day.

“In the 1500s, long after this mansion had been built and my power continued to grow, Zalgo had almost wiped us off the face of the earth to splatter out remains across all the five realms. Liebevolle Frau, thought caught off guard,” that would explain the tea, “sheltered me and protected this place and all who resided in it. At the time,” the Operator looks at you. “Independents and proxies had lived here much more commonly than they do now.”

You smile softly.

“Liebevolle Frau’s power had been pushed to its limit in holding back her first born son, and mind, as well as her heart, broke because of it. In her remaining moments of lucidity, she imbued herself, her soul,” the liquids take the form of something fluttering and soft, like a bird, “her everything, and became the place I hold jurisdiction over today.”

Your eyes widen as you think back to the odd feelings you’ve had coming here for today - and Toby’s slip-up.

“I have not been able to find her since the late 1500s,” The Operator explains as the liquids dance back into the coffee mug, the figure of Liebevolle Frau taking a hair longer than the rest. “She lives in everything.”

You’re honestly speechless over everything the Operator has said because it’s so… It’s strangely heartfelt. You’ve never even spoken face to face with your boss and when you do, it’s because some force is guiding you to do so. But if that force felt so alive, it must have meant she wanted you to know.

“Her physical form,” you finally manage to wisp out. “She wanted to be at peace, didn’t she?”

The Operator chuckles deeply. “I would assume so.”

Before you can respond to anything or even come up with another response, you hear both Masky AND Hoodie yelling for you in your head. The jarring difference between your boss’s gentle voice and Masky and Hoodie crying out for blood is enough to make you jump (once again).

Upon seeing your sudden switch in atmosphere, the Operator hushes the voices in your head and calls them to his side.

Toby is the first to show up though, and quickly trailing after him is Masky and Hoodie. They both look ready to reprimand you but upon seeing you sitting with the Operator, nothing but reverence crosses their minds and bodies.

“Good evening, Sir,” Masky says as he bows his head. “Are you well?”

“Thoughtful, aren't you, Timothy?” There’s no animosity or anger in the Operator’s tone, but it makes Masky blush all the same.

A pregnant pause passes.

“I was just speaking with your newest member, Miss Reader,” a pale hand gestures to you. “Come, join us. I could use the company.”

You watch as confused glances get shared between your three comrades before they take a seat beside you.

A pleasant silence passes through the air before a gentle humming that’s sweeter than honey overtakes it like a passing breeze.

[syn0vial]

Hello Wise One! I was actually hoping if you can give me some solid personality pointers on Jango, rather than Boba, Fett?

sure thing! full disclosure that my knowledge of jango is not as extensive as my knowledge of boba, but i’ll do my best with what i have! here are some personality traits of jango’s i’ve observed:

paranoid/protective: this is a big one if you ask me. jango endured a life of betrayal and loss before he became a bounty hunter and it shows. besides boba, he doesn’t trust anyone fully, not even those closest to him and is always ready to cut ties at the drop of a hat—lethally, if necessary. his mistrust of the rest of the galaxy is so potent that when he takes boba on missions to populated areas, he instructs him to hide even from normal foot traffic and becomes anxious when he learns that others may have spotted him. it becomes pretty evident that part of the reason boba was so isolated growing up was that jango didn’t trust the vast majority of the galaxy enough to let them near the kid. and when other bounty hunters find out about him? ho boy. jango actually convinces them that he killed boba using a cloned child’s body, bc he’d rather be known as the worst kind of monster rather than make boba a target. there’s also the fact that, after their apartment on kamino gets found out by obi-wan, jango is packed and ready to leave in minutes. not only is he ready to bug out at the first sign of danger, but he’s well-prepared to do so at a moment’s notice.

a loving father: another big one. for those who look at a man as battle-hardened and stoic as jango fett and wonder whether boba got enough affection as a kid, worry not: in the vast majority of depictions, jango is a very loving father, especially when he’s out of the prying eyes of clients and colleagues. he hugs boba, tells him he loves him, joins him in playing with toy starfighters, and tries to make time for him as much as he can. he even does his dadly duty of going fishing with his son (though he and boba practice spearfishing rather than using a rod and tackle). there’s also a wistful little scene where, trying to help boba feel better after zam’s death, he takes him to kamino’s main spaceport and lets him infodump about all the ships he sees there :,) so overall, he has a lot of good qualities as a dad

controlling: and the other side of the coin! while jango is a genuinely loving father, he’s not at all the type to encourage his son’s independent development. self-sufficiency? sure. interests in anything other than the path jango has laid out for him? not really. he actively discourages boba from learning about “unimportant” topics from books, an apparently very broad category given it includes things such as schools, moms, and other children. he drills into boba’s head that he’s going to be a bounty hunter and that he needs to abide by a code with such healthy guidelines like, “don’t have friends or attachments” and “trust no one but use everyone.” boba, of course, goes with it bc he loves his father and wants to live up to his expectations, but he never really gets a choice in the matter. honestly, i think this side of jango is best summed up by him leaving a post-humous note for boba that says, among other things, “i am more than a parent to you.” it kind of goes along with how, after jango’s death, boba continued to think of his father not just with love and grief, but also an almost religious dread of failing his expectations. jango undoubtedly loved his son but he also seems to have defined a very narrow path for him to walk, without room for deviation.

possesses an actual charisma score: okay, now for a more fun one: jango has a charisma score and he apparently makes a habit of using it, to the point where his old friend rozatta pokes fun at him for it (he compliments her and she’s like “oh, you’re flattering me? must mean you want something!”) he also pulls the same thing on zam, calling her charming to get her to agree to help him break into a target’s stronghold. so yeah, jango fett turning up the charm to get people to help him/give him info? 100% canon, baby

very fun friendship with zam wesell: look, this isn’t a personality trait, but it’s important to me. these two are just so fucking funny together. like, on the surface, it’s just a fun dynamic of zam making flirty banter and jokes while jango pretends to be annoyed and drag her, much to her delight. but then on a professional level, you have these two ammoral assholes bouncing wildly between being one another’s Sexy Rival and being one another’s Unhinged Partner but whoops, jango went and had a kid, so now they’re Unhinged But Mostly Responsible Co-Parents. one of my favorite scenes is when, in an attempt to intimidate a prisoner into talking, zam impersonates a politician and lets jango pretend to “kill” her in front of him. for some reason, even after they’re done, jango continues to bridal carry zam’s “body” into the cockpit of slave I, at which point, she perks up, bats her eyelashes at him, and goes, “you’d never really kill me would you, jango?” jango quite honestly replies, “only if i had to.” there’s a beat and then zam’s like, “....you’re so sweet! 😘” honestly, they’re so stupid, i love them

ascetic: much like his son, jango doesn’t seem to have much interest in luxury or “the finer things.” despite having enough money to live very comfortably, his apartment on kamino is described as “spartan” in design and furnishing. this may have something to do with the first bullet point, given that a simple life is easier to pack up and take with you at a moment’s notice, but i do think there’s some amount of preference in this lifestyle, given it’s what both fetts seem most comfortable with in all circumstances.

traumatized: i mean, he’s a fett, ain’t he? particularly, just like boba after him, jango is traumatized by the loss of his family, especially his own father figure, jaster mereel. much like boba, jango seems haunted by the need to live up to jaster’s name and legacy. for background, jaster was betrayed and killed in an ambush by the leader of deathwatch, after which he passed on the title of mand’alor to jango. however, some time after this, the true mandalorians led by jango were wiped out by a combination of death watch and the jedi, with jango himself being stripped of his armor and sold as a slave. after this point, jango does not seem to see himself as worthy of jaster’s legacy and thus attempts to pass it on to his son, resulting in the high and narrow expectations he sets for boba as mentioned in bullet point #3. boba himself concludes as much as an adult. on top of the trauma of losing his family, jango also seems to have been traumatized by his time as a slave. most notably, when he’s being tortured after being captured by target komari vosa, he at first remains fairly stoic, even as she starts to mutilate his face. it isn’t until she mentions enslaving him that he seems to panic, struggling desperately to get away. vosa even laughs and says that she must have touched a nerve with her comment. basically: fetts be traumatized :(

soft spot for (some) kids: another thing that’s interesting about jango is that he... usually attempts to do right when kids are involved. i say “usually” bc fat lot of good it did all the cloned children he had a hand in creating >:( but, for example, after killing a runaway clonetrooper as part of a bounty, he finds out that the clone had a son. unwilling to let the child live in poverty due to his own actions, he has regular payments sent to the boy’s mother to help support him. in another instance, jango and zam help deliver an artifact to a client who intends to use it to carry out a terrorist attack on coruscant against millions of civilians. when zam finds out about the client’s intentions, she’s horrified and goes to jango demanding they steal the artifact back. jango completely brushes her off at first, telling her it’s not his problem and that he needs to spend more time with his son. zam coldly asks him how many “sons” he thinks live on coruscant. needless to say, her argument convinces him to join her in stopping the terrorist plot :,)

aaand that’s all i got at the moment! i hope it helps to characterize jango a little bit more!

[flaminpumpkin]

Small treasures

“Five more minutes,” Bruce grumbled as he distantly heard the door open through his sleepy haze.

There was some shuffling sound around the room and then it was flooded with bright morning light as Alfred mercilessly opened the heavy curtains, the rays of sunshine hitting the Bat right in the face, making him scramble for the covers to hide his sensitive eyes. 

“Very well, Master Bruce. Breakfast will be ready for you in the kitchen.”

He was so used to Alfred’s barely hidden exasperation after all these years that his words took longer than usual to register with Bruce. A frown appeared on his face as he finally realized what was wrong with the butler’s statement. 

Alfred never served breakfast – or any meal for that matter – in the kitchen. 

He would rather shoo everyone out with a spatula full off batter than let anyone eat where he cooked. Bruce couldn’t even count the number of times he had seen Dick or Tim appear in the dining room with a sheepish look, a thoroughly exasperated Alfred hot on their heels. 

Pushing the sheets away just enough to uncover his head, Bruce peeked over his shoulder at the still open door, eyebrows knitting further in confusion. 

“What?”

Something caught his eyes. 

There was a piece of yellow paper on the nightstand. An origami bat, he realized after finally deciding to emerge from the sea of sheets and pillows he had buried himself in during his sleep. He reached for it and took the little paper animal gingerly between his fingers, eyes focusing enough to read “unfold me” written in elegant cursive right at its center. 

Bruce did as he was told.

Dear Master Bruce, 

My words most probably confused you as the kitchen is a place I do not tolerate for anyone to eat in. But, need I remind you, there always has been one peculiar occasion where I allowed you to do so.

A.

Bruce stared at the note, confusion growing. 

Oh.

His eyebrows raised a bit, pleasantly amused. There was indeed one occasion Alfred would let him eat in the kitchen while he worked. What did the kids put Alfred to this time? 

Led by his curiosity, Bruce climbed off the bed, fully awake now as he put on a shirt, and padded out of the bedroom, towards the kitchen. 

No one was there when he arrived, which wasn’t odd per say but he had learned to be cautious over years of attempted surprise parties. There was a plate though, on the little table, with French toasts that smelled like butter and cinnamon and a cup of coffee with probably enough sugar and cream that it didn’t even taste like coffee anymore.

It was a breakfast Alfred had always prepared for him on the morning of his birthday after his parents’ death. He would put the plate on this same table and work silently as Bruce happily ate, the two of them sharing the same space in the simplest way. It wasn’t a grand gesture but it had meant the world to him nonetheless.

Another little origami bat was waiting for him, propped against the cup. A small smile tugged at his lips.

Bruce put it aside before starting to eat, careful not to stain the paper with coffee or grease, only taking it again once he had cleared the table and washed his hands. He unfolded it with the same care as the first.

My happy place. 

(Took a piece of bread. Alfred said yes. Thank you.)

Cass

The dance studio on the third floor. 

A while back, Bruce had decided to redesign one of the biggest rooms on that floor in a place where Cass could dance that wasn’t the ball room. He had wanted for it to be a place only for her, where she could express herself and spend time however she pleased, without anyone bothering her. His greatest recompense had been the radiant smile on her face before she had locked himself in there and played music until late that night. 

The next course of action wasn’t too hard to guess so Bruce quickly folded the paper back into its bat form, slid it in the pocket of his pajama pants, along the first one, and headed for the next place.

As expected, he found another bat in Cass’s dance studio, tucked into the folds of a bright orange knitted scarf. There was a running joke between his kids saying that it was because Bruce always forgot to take a scarf with him during winter that his Batman voice sounded so bad.

One thing was for sure, he would not forget this one.

Hey B, remember that time you told me you were proud of me and then proceeded to suffocate me with your muscles? Just kidding, you give great hugs. Like, super comfy, 10/10. But yeah, go there next.

Steph :p

He huffed at Stephanie’s words, eyes rolling with fondness. He remembered perfectly what she was referring to. 

The young woman had been staying in the manor for a few days that time, Alfred being keen on keeping her under careful observation after she had been hit with a new type of fear gas while on patrol with Dick. She had continuously apologized to Bruce, blaming herself for Dick’s injuries. 

Until the third day, where he had found her reading in the library, curled up in one of the love seats. Before she could utter a word, he had crouched down and grabbed her hands firmly.

“You do not need to apologize or blame yourself for anything, do you hear me? You managed to drag Dick and yourself out of this building while under the influence of fear gas when most would have stayed frozen in place. I’m sure he will agree that a few scratches and broken bones are far better than what would have awaited him if you hadn’t been there. I’m proud of you, Stephanie Brown. More than you’ll ever know.”

After that, she had thrown herself at him and Bruce had hugged her for the better part of an hour until Alfred had come to fetch her for some blood analysis. 

This time, when he walked into the next place of this little treasure hunt, he found a laptop, sitting open on the table next to one of the windows. The windows of the library were wide and high and the spot where the next gift awaited was one of his favorites. 

So he let himself sink in the armchairs cushions and started to play the video.

“You better not ruin this, Todd,” Damian was saying, standing next to the piano in the lounge of the west wing, violin already positioned on his shoulder.

Jason was scowling at the piano in front of him, focused.

“Just take the lead, brat. I’ll follow.”

“Could you two focus, please?” Tim said off camera.

The other two huffed with the same affronted look towards the camera.

Then the melody started and both of their faces softened. It was gentle, melancholic. Almost sad if you asked Bruce. But he listened with a smile on his face, bemused at the sight of his two quick tempered sons playing with a soft kind of intensity together, Jason following Damian’s lead flawlessly – probably the result of hours of practice. It was truly beautiful and he knew that the melody was one of Damian’s compositions. 

But it was over too soon for Bruce’s taste so he played it a second time, closing his eyes. And then a third as he read the next message, only heading for the next place once it was over.

Blah blah blah, some cute shit about us bonding, blah blah blah. Just get your ass to the garage old man.

Ps: Remember your Aston Martin? I think I scratched it a bit but I’ll blame it on Timmy anyway. 

Jay.

Bruce knew exactly which car Jason was talking about (and knew perfectly that he didn't scratch it). An Aston Martin DB5 he had inherited from his father. Nobody had driven it in ages when Jason had brought it up during dinner one evening, not long after he had taken him in. 

“Isn’t that James Bond's car?”

“It is. But it’s been so long since the last time I used it, I’ll probably need to pop open the hood before anything else if I want to drive it again.”

“Can I help you fix it?”

Jason’s eyes had been so full of hope and excitement when he had asked Bruce. He had laughed before agreeing. The next day, Alfred had had to come and pry them away from the car for lunch because both of them had forgotten about eating in their eagerness. 

He noticed a tape case on the board as he approached, in front of the wheel. Bruce opened the door and climbed in so he could reach for it easily. On the piece of paper tucked between the clear case and the tape, Bruce could see every song scribbled, one in each of his children’s handwriting. He recognized a song by The Clash in Tim’s handwriting – of course – and Midnight Sonata in Damian’s. The other titles and artists were mostly lost on him, except maybe for that Belgian one Cass listened to a lot.  

I can’t count the number of times I fell asleep there while you worked and you had to carry me back to my room.

Dick

Bruce couldn’t recount either.

Although he remembered fondly the first time Dick had fallen asleep in his study, curled up in one of the seats across his desk while he worked on some urgent papers for WE. They both had been so young. Bruce being completely new to parenthood, he had seeked out Alfred who had only fixed him with a blank stare before sending him back.

“Don’t you dare wake up this child, Master Bruce.”

He had actually managed to pick up the gangly child without waking him up, even if rather awkwardly, and had carried him all the way to his bedroom uneventfully. Only to trip on one of Dick’s schoolbooks once there, nearly dropping him. 

They had both elected not to mention it to Alfred and, to this day, it was still something only the two of them knew about.

When he arrived at his study, another message was waiting for him in the seat Dick used to sleep in, along with a gift card for that 24 hours coffee shop that had opened recently in downtown Gotham. Bruce let out a breathy laugh at that.

I know you always listen when I play, Father. Why do you think I leave my door open when I do?

D. Wayne

And here he thought he had been smooth. However, he should have expected that his son would pick up on his habit of passing by his room while he rehearsed with his violin. 

But Bruce couldn’t resist the pull in his chest. Damian was a gifted player, just like Jason, able to translate raw emotions in barely a few notes. It always put his mind at ease, smoothed out his most troubled thoughts even for only a few moments. He had caught everyone at least once, standing outside of his youngest’s door, listening to soft melodies in a rare moment of peace. 

It was silent moments shared with everyone, brought together by Damian's deft fingers. Something he had been doing knowingly and willingly apparently. It made it all the more special for Bruce.

There was no gift when he went searching for the next clue in Damian’s room. Or so he thought.

Sitting on his son’s music-stand along with yet another yellow origami bat, was an open partition. It was still in work, Bruce could tell. Notes were hastily written with a pencil, a few stains where some had been erased. Nothing out of the ordinary for Damian and his creative mind. Except for the title.

Ode to Family. 

Thankfully, no one was around to witness the shuddering breath that escaped him as he read. He exited the room still unable to breathe normally, heart so full he almost felt like suffocating, and walked towards his next – and probably last – location.

You spent hours trying to teach me how to dance the waltz there after I told you I wanted to take Steph dancing for her birthday. I still don’t know how to dance but we had fun.

Tim

Indeed, Bruce still regularly caught Tim stepping on his partner’s toes during charity galas and other events. But he suspected the young man of going to great lengths to not learn how to dance correctly because it usually dissuaded most people from asking him to dance with them. And god knew how much his son disliked dancing. 

That was why it had greatly surprised him when Tim had asked him for help.

“I wasn’t really the best boyfriend to her so I just… I thought I could at least be a good friend and take her dancing? She loves it when Cass takes her in the studio and they dance so I just thought… Yeah…”

Five hours later, Tim had made absolutely no progress. He had known the steps by heart at this point, had it memorized and yet, he couldn’t seem to stop stomping on Bruce’s toes. To both Dick’s and Alfred’s delight.

His eldest son probably still had videos of it, he thought as he entered the vast and empty ballroom. There was nothing out of the ordinary or out of place and Bruce almost expected for his family to sneak up on him and surprise him when he noticed one last, black origami bat on the wooden floor, right in the center of the room. 

He crouched down and unfolded it slowly, warily even, some would say.

Terrace on the second floor. You know, the one where I inelegantly asked you to marry me and you just stared for a good five minutes before laughing. (And saying yes, of course.)

It wasn’t signed and even if the message wasn’t telling enough, he would recognize that hasty scribble everywhere.

Bruce took off, climbing stairs two by two and running down hallways. His heart was pounding in his chest. 

He had been gone for six months. Six excruciatingly long months of absolutely no contact, of not having any means to make sure his husband-to-be – yes, that idiot had asked him to marry him just before leaving – was still alive and well. Six months of worrying, of his children asking nervously if he had any news of his whereabouts. 

Bruce barged through the French doors leading to the wide terrace on the second floor of the manor and, surely enough, everyone was there. Absolutely everyone. 

“Happy birthday, Spooky. Half a century, we gotta celebrate,” Hal drawled with an easy grin.

“Someone take the cake away from Hal. Right now, before they ruin it!” Bruce heard someone say distantly and, next thing he knew, he had taken the few steps still separating them and was kissing Hal, holding him close by the lapels on his jacket. 

There were groans, cheers and something that sounded a lot like someone telling them to get a room. Hal laughed against his lips, pecked him one last time before pulling away, opening his arms widely with a grin. A clear invitation for everyone to pile up on them which everyone took with great enthusiasm, barreling into them and crushing Bruce and Hal under their combined weight.

[miss-ali-lawliet]

Growing up with L hcs

Hello!

For my first head canon post this has been something I’ve been wanting to write for a little while, which is my interpretation of growing up with L as his first and only friend. 

CW: Some minor swearing but besides there’s nothing else as these take place when L and you are children 

Anyways! Onto the post

When you met L, no one really expected you to get along with the seemingly strange boy. So when it seemed that he didn’t mind your presence, it was a pleasant surprise for Watari and your guardians (if you have guardians)

It also surprised L himself a lot as he never thought that someone would even want to be friends with him and even if they did his trust issues made it feel impossible for him to want to get close to others. It’s something that still confuses him a little to this day to be honest. 

You are the one to initiate the friendship as L has never had one and simply doesn’t know how they work, it wasn’t something he looked for and expected to ever have until he met you

You’ll have a lot to work through, because as mentioned before, that poor boy has major trust issues and even though you got past his initial walls, it won’t be easy to get closer. It’ll definitely take some time!

One thing to expect a lot when it comes to becoming friends or being friends with L, is to expect him to just watch you. Like a lot. Not in creepy way or anything (at least not on purpose), simply because he’s just observant and curious to how you do things. So most of the time he’ll just be quiet and watch you as if studying you in a way

“Are you okay..?” you’d ask after a couple moments of you taking notice of his usual gaze on you

“.. Yes? Why do you ask?” 

“I swear you’ve barely blinked in the last minute or so”

After hearing that he ended up looking away for a minute and blinking a bit more than usual, as if self conscious in a way. After a couple minutes though he would go right back to looking at you as if you’ve never never said anything to begin with.

When you decide to play chess with him, expect him to win almost all the time

You probably didn’t know much about chess when you met him so he ends up teaching you, but even with his teaching it won’t help. 

Apart of you would wonder if he was cheating or teaching you the wrong things, but even if you practiced and tried to learn chess in your free time, he just almost always managed to win

I say almost because one day you did manage to win, taking both yourself and him off guard. You don’t even know how you managed the win but you felt SO proud of yourself.

L was quiet, his face unreadable like usual but was that a glimpse of shock on his face ever so briefly? It vanished before you could even question it much as he ends up actually congratulating you for the win, especially if he saw how happy it made you

“Hm.. Well good job.”

“It seems you aren’t always terrible at chess, hopefully you keep up this winning streak next time we play”

He could honestly be such a little shit at times

Yet you still managed to smile with your head high and say that your streak won’t be ending anytime soon and soon you’ll be the ‘chess champion’

You didn’t win the next time or the times after that

You still hold that one win high though! Even if you sometimes wonder if he let you win in the first place

Besides chess you would always try to find fun things to do or play with L, like board and card games or some games like hide n seek  (even if it was just the two of you) and tag. 

He isn’t a big fan of tag though, but if you both had nothing else to do and if you persisted enough he would go through with it

It always excited you when you told L about a game he didn’t know of so that you’d have to teach him about it

One of the early things you took notice of in his behavior was his interest in sweet food. You’ve never seen someone who ate so much of it and not even bat an eye

Once you are close to L, you will also quickly realize how many sweets you’ll eat when with him

He was never the type to share with the other kids at Wammy House as he didn’t see the need to and wasn’t particularly a fan of the other kids

With you though, you could be studying or talking about something and he’ll just take whatever he’s eating and offer you some. That has happened multiple times

You remember how you were working in silence and when you glanced up from focusing you saw a piece of candy next to what you were working on 

Or when you were talking to him as he had a small bowl of strawberries, and every so often he’d offer you a couple of them throughout the conversation silently and nonchalantly

It was definitely something you felt was a great honor and you still do to an extent

You just won’t have to worry about being hungry when you’re around L

Reading with L also seems like something that would happen 

At first it was just you two reading your own respected books as you sat near each other

As time goes on though either you or him will end up peering over each other’s shoulders and sitting close to see what the other is reading

It then shifts to you reading to L, and if he is up for it he’ll read to you in return 

I feel like when you two get closer and have more conversations, it’ll go from him mostly listening to you and soon enough I see you both having some really good talks! Like it’s something you probably won’t find yourself being bored with when you’re with him

You two probably end up walking around together a lot, whether in whammy house or outside the building 

Even if you bot hare quiet in each other’s company, it’s never uncomfortable and can still be really enjoyable

Like briefly mentioned before with you initiating things in the friendship, if you are the affectionate type you are definitely going to be the one to hug him first

When you hug him for the first time, It was something he just wasn’t expecting

Besides Watari, you’re the first person who has had the chance to get that close to him so it definitely took him off guard and confused him to why you’d even want to do such a thing with him

So the first time you hug him or do anything like that he had no idea what to do

He just tense and froze up as his eyes widened as he looked at you, but he probably didn’t say or do anything to make you stop. He just let you hug him quietly and after most likely tried to focus on something else

As time goes on though he’ll find himself becoming less jumpy and stop tensing up as much. He never would say much about how he felt, but deep down there was/is a part of him that appreciated and enjoys the affectionate moments

As time goes on and the closer you get, he definitely finds himself enjoying it a bit more and he’d even hug back once he was used to it a bit more and comfortable. 

As you both get comfortable with one another, he’s definitely going to show his more sarcastic side and his dry humor

Just hearing him laugh and seeing him smile makes you really happy, and the closer you are the more he feels like he can open up and show that side of himself to

You probably get in some arguments or disagreements from time to time as kids/teens usually do, but you’ll both end up talking to each other again once things are calmer.

 He’s also the type to just start stuff, whether it’s because he’s in a bad mood or simply wants to see your reaction as if to ‘test’ you and see if you’d stick around afterwards. He’ll find himself apologizing afterwards, maybe not at first in the beginning of the friendship but if he knows he made you upset in some way, he’ll definitely try to make up for it

You both just built up a really good communication with one another in general

You’ll just find yourself seeing a side to L that others wouldn’t expect for him to do

So you’ll learn things that others wouldn’t know like his identity, but because you grew up together you in general just know a lot about him and it’s just something you knew that you’d have to take to your grave as the last thing you’d ever want is to betray him after he opened up that side of himself to you in the first place

It started out as an unlikely friendship but even through the rocky parts, it has become so much more. A bond that won’t be broken easily to say the least

If you want me to talk about something more specific with anything I wrote, just ask! Reminder that requests are open!

[thed4rkhand]

So today we’re doing Yoongi’s chart and my analysis of it. Let me make it clear right off the bat, that since I’m not a professional astrologer, some things may not match up, further since we’re not super sure of his birth time, it’ll definitely affect the reading. What I can be sure of is that I’ll do my best and I’m completely open to constructive criticism from you all!

Now lets get on with some basic stuff, for those who have not yet read the post with Namjoon’s moon analysis, I’ll again reiterate some principles of Vedic astrology! In the scenario that you’re still confused with all this jargon, feel free to reach out and I’ll be more than happy to help you out.

Starting out, we have to note that while western astrology is usually more advisory in nature, Vedic astrology’s main purpose is to predict. Also, we usually go a sign back from western astrology (24’ back to be more precise) in Vedic astrology, so according to that for example, if you’re a libra rising, you become a virgo rising in Vedic astrology and so on and so forth. All planets will also shift back a sign, so a Capricorn Mercury will become a Sagittarius Mercury.

Now let’s be aware that the chart may be a bit different, but given the main d1 (Lagna) chart remains the same for about 2 hours, let’s focus on that and the moon chart (rashi chart) for this reading. We can also just look at d9 for strength but not house placements as that can be time sensitive. So, we can take a two hour margin of time discrepancy and still predict accurately.

For this reading, we have taken 9th March 1993 as the day and 7:30am as the time of birth, with the location set to Daegu.

OTHER THAN THIS, LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT ME TO DO A BIRTH TIME RECTIFICATION FOR YOONGI LATER ON SO WE CAN GET MORE ACCURATE PREDICTIONS.

Since this is a general chart analysis, we shall be covering topics briefly and discussing the moon, ascendant and sun. For an in depth reading, do pick a smaller and focussed topic as we can honestly keep going on and on about a chart.

THIS READING WILL BE DONE IN SEVERAL 4 PARTS, FOLLOWING THE ASCENDANT, MOON, SUN AND MISCELLANEOUS.

Lets get started then-

Right off the bat, we can see that Yoongi is born into Pisces, with his ascendant at 10’35’, within the Nakshatra of Uttarabhadprada, within the 3rd quadrant or pada. He has venus situated in the lagna itself, in Pisces, thus exalted. His lagna lord, Jupiter, is in the 7th house, conjuct with the Moon, in the sign of virgo, where jupiter gains the upper hand despite mercury (lord of virgo) being enemies. The lord is directly aspected by mars in the fourth house. The lord of the birth Nakshatra is Saturn here, which sits in the 12th house, conjunct sun and mercury (dispositer of the ascendant lord). Lastly, moon, jupiter and rahu aspect the lagna of this chart. Of course there is so so much more here, but we’ve got a whole chart to cover!

(p.s I can already see this is such a fun chart to read)

Getting on with the reading, we firstly see that he’s born under Pisces lagna, this makes the native calm and collected, as well as fond of philosophy and psychology. What we often forget is, people born under Pisces are said to have been born under all the other signs in their past life, and cumulatively they use their skills and knowledge from those lives in their current one. Remember how on Bon Voyage trips and just about every RunBts, saga seems like the ‘dad’ of the bunch? cooking, cleaning, fixing stuff Joon broke, producing music and the stuff? And all those times that he is so very understanding of other? He doesn’t scold Jungkook, let alone anyone else? These are typical Pisces traits. They’re very domestic and understanding by nature, because they’ve been there before in a past life, and enjoy taking care of people.

The downside to this? They can be extremely manipulative if they want to be, they know exactly what to say, when to say, to whom to say and so on. They have an alarming grip on people’s emotions, and have a magnetic quality to them. Further, this is mostly an observation, you’ll often notice that most pisces natives are fond of alcohol (could be because they exist in a water sign? Could be because its the natural 12th house ruler of addictions too?)

Coming to the Nakshatra here, we have UttaraBhadrapada, the second last Nakshatra of the series. This Nakshatra is ruled by Saturn, and the presiding deity being Ananta or Ahir Budhyana, the deep ocean serpent in hindu mythology. The deity Ananta represents boundless expansion, be it of fortune, goodwill or knowledge. Ahir Budhyana, is a sattvic (sacred or untainted) form of lord Shiv, and resides at he bottom of the ocean. He represents the liberation from illusions and attainment of spiritual enlightenment and knowledge. The natives of this Nakshatra here embody these qualities of their deities. We see them as philanthropic and reserved beings, who enjoy learning about a variety of subjects and spirituality. Such people are extremely progressive in their thinking patterns, and often a magnetic pull like the deep ocean serpent has.

They’re extremely controlled and calculating in their approach, and think more than speak. This by no means is to say that they don’t speak, because such people are great orators by nature. They stand up for the underdogs and have a unique approach to topics. They are extremely interested in occult and metaphysical practices and theories. They however commonly don’t obtain higher education or do well in fields of fine arts, even their primary education is not something they excel at. (i once read that yoongi really likes reading about a variety of subjects, and also Paulo Coelho, definitely his UttaraBhadrapada here)

The bad side to this Nakshatra? They’re very critical and over-analyze everything and everyone. Sometimes, even unconsciously, they manipulate people to suit their needs and whims. They get side tracked too often and have difficulty focussing on one task at hand, often amounting to laziness in other people’s eyes, even if the native is extremely hardworking in reality. However when in comes to personal care, they tend to do things in a very half-hearted manner. These people are also prone to isolating themselves from others, especially when things get hard. Due to the sign falling in pisces here, people also tend to have many different mental burdens and disorders, which arise from their constant scatter-brained self and inability to make out between the spiritual and real realms.

They can also be heavy drinkers and abuse substances in such a Nakshatra, or enjoy partaking in occult practices while under influences. They might’ve also faced a very rough childhood with such a Nakshatra, neglected and misunderstood by people around him. The natives could also have moved away from their parents during their early adulthood for education or job purposes. Such people can have health issues like hemorrhoids, stomach ailments and hernias. Usually they lead a stable period full of health and success in the latter part of life, say about after 48 years(since the south node Ketu matures as 48).

Since Suga’s Nakshatra falls into the third pada or quadrant, its ruled by libra here. Libra here focusses on balance and cooperation. Such people may make a living working with other people, or in industries related to entertainment. They may make great debaters, and think excessively about what other think of them as. They’re very conscious of other’s opinion, even if they don’t show it, so we often find such people wearing extremely covered up and baggy clothes for example, or keeping a low profile. They may have a very practical and unbiased approach to most things in life. Such people are intensely into spiritual practices and often times fully devote themselves at hours at a time to worship of gods, angel or other beings. They may be the type to attract people very easily, or even be the kind to fall in love extremely easily.

The second placement we come to, is Venus in the first house, in Pisces. Venus here is naturally exalted (most powerful). Sure ill give you the generic explanation in a bit but, do you know which type of people usually have this placement? Actual saints and famed occultists. Sure many people within the entertainment industry too, but this placement can hands down be one of the most spiritual and divine placements of Venus in the chart. First ill go ahead and give the normal meaning and effect, and then lets dive into the crazy stuff (istg his chart is so goooood). Such people usually have really magnetic personalities, and given Venus is in Uttarabhadrapa, these are the people who you don’t notice at first, but then its like a whirlpool of being invested in them, as opposed to being in Revati Nakshatra (another Piscean nakshatra) which would be a more dramatic pull, based off an extroverted personality. These people can be very good looking, more feminine looking, could definitely look like their mothers with this position. Brilliant luck in fields of arts and entertainment and also genius level of creativity and talent. Here, people can have brilliant luck too, like god’s hand on their head kind. Accumulation of wealth and property can also be seen here.

Now onto the really fun stuff. These people are actually rarely concerned with someone’s exterior, because often times such people have such good intuition and spiritual powers (some are literally called mystics because of this), they can literally see through someone. For this reason, they actually don’t like associating with too many people, despite having a very charming personality. These are the kind of people that keep searching for ‘the one’. These people often give up everything and go ahead and become priests. The calling to god with such a placement is very strong. They also don’t like collecting too many material possessions, as they feel its redundancy in this very changing world. These people hold the few people they’re close to, very very tightly to themselves. These people also may have a very low sexual drive actually, (i know, I know, how can a strong Venus do this?) because an exalted Venus is about devotion to god, to one person, and leaving sensory pleasures behind in life. A debilitated Venus on the other hand (eg. Jungkook has one) might make someone very invested in worldly matters. These people are happy with being alone and single for a long time, they’re very satisfied with their own company. Such placements can make someone practice magick or astral projection too. (Venus in 12th sign of liberation, liberation from physical body)

Given that in this chart, Venus is his 3rd and 8th lord, we can make further deductions. Firstly, since 3rd lord is going 11 houses away, its an extremely auspicious placement here. Self made person, making wealth through communication, can also have very witty and intelligent responses to things. Since the third house also represents courage and valor, this can make someone very fearless and say whats on their mind bluntly. Since the 3rd house is part of the Kama Trikon houses (houses of desire), this going into the 1st house, which is a part of the Dharma Trikon houses (houses of morality), gives interesting results here. Firstly, such people are fiercely independent, and hate to be disrupted when there pursuing their goals and working towards them. They hate to take help from anyone, and as a result are extremely competent. secondly, such people have a moral high ground, to which they religiously abide. They’re extremely righteous and stand up for those who wouldn’t be able to for themselves. Since from here, it aspects the 7th house of agreements, such people are great at understanding and signing contracts for work.

Now with the 8th house, we have a bit of a conundrum here honestly. It belongs to 2 types of houses, the moksha trikona houses (houses of salvation) as well as the Dushtana houses (evil houses). While this placement isn’t all that bad, it isn’t he best either. firstly though, this is a placement where the native always wins over their enemies (8th lord 6 houses away from itself), be it enemies as in people, or simply obstacles in their life. This also confers a long lifespan to people, given that his 8th lord is also exalted here. However such people are prone to accidents, given that the 1st house is the body, 8th house is sudden events and the natural 8th ruler mars is a karka or signifactor of vehicles. Such people are also against organized forms of religions, since the Dushtana lord is sitting in a dharma house. The native is also extremely private and secretive given the 1st house of self has the 8th lord of secrets sitting in it. Since it also aspects the 7th house of other people, this person has that aura of mystery about them because of this. Such people are deeply critical in nature but can have extreme wisdom in cases of hidden objects or matters of the occult.

Now coming to his aspects. His Venus is aspected by moon, Jupiter and Rahu. The first two are benefic in nature and the latter is malefic. Moon-Venus and Jupiter-Venus are also mutually aspecting each other in pairs here. Moon here gives Venus the property of being constantly cynical of themselves regards to what others may perceive them as, given moon is emotion and the 7th house here is other people. Their thoughts here are deeply influenced by other people, they may always keep serving other people too, through acts of service. This also makes someone who falls in love very easily, but it is important to engage this person’s mind in a relationship, they just cant do without an emotional bond here. Since Moon also represents fame in a chart, this makes a person very famous, as they receive attention from many people, and people want to analyze them, and enjoy their work and presence.

Jupiter here, makes the person level headed and practical. The person wouldn’t be all touchy feely with people they like, because they would like to remain more in control of the situation here. They’d rather engage in a full blown debate with someone, than hold hands. This also makes them very worldly and teacher like, while also being attracted to very worldly people themselves.

Rahu’s aspect on the other hand, makes someone stand out in a crowd (Rahu signifies an outcast), they may have a rough and cold exterior due to this. They may also have had issues with body image (1st house is self), or mental health here. These people are enamored by all things foreign, and love exploring the other cultures. They may have issues identifying with their own community at large, and may identify with the downtrodden of the society.

Now going to Jupiter and moon conjunction in the 7th house. I wont go very deep into this, as its a super interesting concept, and it’ll be better covered in the second part of the reading regarding the moon itself, so ill keep it short and related to the ascendant. Also the mutual aspect part will be explained in more detail in the miscellaneous section later. Plus this is getting far too long for even me now.

Getting on with the reading for now, moon and Jupiter here are in virgo, in a loose conjunction (one is at approximately 2’ and the other at 18’). This is actually one of the not very yogas (combinations)in a chart, about 15% of people have these. Its called the Gaj-Kesari yoga (the elephant and lion combination), because people with this are so extremely lucky, its like the kings of the jungle are together to support it. They have the wisdom of the elephant and the courage of a lion. This is a raj yoga (royal combination). a native born with Gaj-Kesari Yoga is intelligent, strong, and prosperous. Gaj or Elephant possesses immense strength and is devoid of pride and the Lion is known for his foresight and skillful intelligence as well as his strength, quickness, skillful leadership, ability and courage. Thus, when Gaj-Kesari Yoga is formed then that person is extremely successful. They will be a kind and philanthropic person, who will always have sympathy for others. They will be quite humble regarding work, would like to talk nicely to people and aim to attain spiritual progress in life. Many people will recognize them as their mentor or guide and will act according to their instructions or advice. They may have a tendency attracting people and people being magnetized by them. They will be blessed with abundant wealth and become the owner of movable and immovable property(cars as well as homes). They will establish relationships with rich and reputed people of the society and enjoy all kinds of material pleasures in life.

Since this occurs in virgo, it makes a person intelligent, sharp and gifts them with amazing memory power. Such a person is knowledgeable and can become the head of a large educational institution. He may own incomparable wealth and can earn a good name and money from business as well. Often such people earn a high reputation in the Stock Market and make progress in life by working in any financial institution or insurance sectors.

Here jupiter in particular makes someone extremely cynical in nature, and their mind is always, and I mean always, thinking about romantic relationships or platonic ones. However given that jupiter is also the 10th lord here, they could be extremely focused on work too. Their life is surrounded by contracts, and may work with others for a living(7th house is house of courts and partnership). They could be very interested in the financial sector here, they could be extremely money minded and money means stability to them. Moon here on the other hand makes the person very moody, and extremely dependent on their spouse or colleagues. Since it rules the fifth house here, it signifies that such people are extremely creative in their work, may work for children or young adults, have a lot of past life karma related to work, and also that they’re extremely devoted lovers. They tend to criticize their close friends and loved ones, just because they’re so cynical and blunt, and want the absolute best for people. They may hurt people’s feeling without realizing it sometimes. (this was very brief but refer to point 12)

Now coming to Saturn in 12th, as the lord of the birth nakshatra. Saturn over here signifies working in the fields of music, but given saturn represents electronics, it could mean a producer too. Since its in Aquarius here, a sign of dual lordship, this resents a constant up and down of mood and life spirit. The person with such a placement is confused with what truly makes them happy in life, the spiritual realm or the materialistic realm. They keep going up and down the path of being spiritual, till 36 years (saturn matters at 36). They may face a lot of mental disorders here. They may have trouble sleeping at night. Given saturn is also work, they may earn through foreign sources in life. Such a person invests money into properties (saturn is houses) and lacks liquid cash. The person may have a weak left eye (12th house is left eye). They may earn from multiple sources in life, and have multiple talents. Such people have low sex drives as saturn is a dry eunuch planet, and in the 12th house of bed pleasures, it may not allow native to enjoy it. They may not be interested in worldly pleasures with such placements.

Lastly (finally?), we have to discuss the looks! Pisces ascendents usually have the short to medium height, and tend to appear a little fuller even when they’re very scrawny. (its because jupiter is the largest planet). Uttarabhadrapada natives tend to have a very innocent look to them, a very calming nature and vibe. however, like the deep sea serpant, they have very deep and magnetic eyes, and a very expressive face (yoongi memes). They usually have a very beautiful smile, and can literally attract people with it (again the snake like quality). They tend to have a very blank look usually, and if you ever notice, they’ll have the most stunning eyelashes actually, given the yoni is the female cow. They might also have the habit of moving their mouth around when their thinking, quite like ruminating.

Given venus sits here, is gives the person very attractive, effeminate features. Think extremely renaissance type of soft features. It can give them very delicate hands and feet with such a placement. The moon aspect here, gives them a rounded face and pale skin. They might have sparkly eyes and a roundish appearance here, also the tendency to gain weight around their face, with short necks. They make also look much younger than their actual age.The jupiter aspect again makes the native very other worldly looking, almost like you can imagine them in a dark robe literally performing rituals. It gives people a calm and teacher type of vibe to them. The rahu aspect usually just blows qualities out of proportion. Have you seen how small and angelic suga looks compared to the other? (not saying they’re not angelic but still), thats the rahu aspect. Again, rahu aspects only get better with time.

So this was my analysis! If anyone has any questions or doubts, hit me up! Let me know if you enjoyed it!