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taliecin · 2 years ago

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i’m procrastinating on my uni assignments and i’m also generally frustrated with not having any drawing skills so let me just bombard you with something that has been rotting my brain recently LeoSagi “Millennium Actress” AU “What”, you might ask. Well, let me share everything I have on hand at the moment SPOILERS FOR “MILLENNIUM ACTRESS (just in case)

Also please keep in mind, the movie discussed below is build heavily on the history of Japan and Japanese cinema specifically. I am myself not Japanese and, alas, I don’t even have much knowledge on both subjects, so I tried to avoid going into historical details. Also, part of text is focused on Japan’s role and activity during WWII. I consider myself to be under no obligation to make any statements on subject, I only took actual historical facts and did my best to not manipulate them. Apologies in advance for not researhing more before writing this.

For those of you who don’t know, “Millennium Actress” is an animated movie directed by Satoshi Con, whom you might know for his other works such as “Paprika” or “Perfect Blue”. I strongly recommend cheking out Con’s full filmography, which is, alas, really short, but for now let’s focus on “Actress”.

I won’t share the whole plot of the movie in here, since this crossover story follows movie pretty closely. “Millenium Actress” is a story of retired actress Fujiwara Chiyoko who, along with her biggest fan and interviewer Tachibana Genya and his cameraman, travels through the memories of her life and work, while also revealing a story of her one and true love, which she chased her whole life. Let;s just state that this is a story of love that reaches through time and layers of reality - Chiyoko’s memories of her actual life and her roles blend together throughout the story, which blures the line of reality and fantasy, a repetitive theme for Con . It’s also a beautiful love letter to history of Japanese Cinema, critical retrospective of Japanese History and, overall, one of the best movies i’ve ever seen, so please make sure to watch it.

And now, let’s get to tortoise and hare. This story is not based on any particular version of TMNT or Usagi. On the contrary, the whole point to me was to blend all this variations of the same characters. Just as with Chiyoko’s character, for this version of Usagi I took some inspiration from a real-life actor, Toshiro Mifune (uh-huh), mostly known for his roles in Akira Kurasawa’s samurai movies AND for his portrayal of Miyamoto Musashi in so called “Samurai Trilogy”, based on a book about Miyamoto.

The main characters of this crossover story are Miyamoto Usagi, a retired actor living as a hermit, and his young fan... Usagi Yuichi. I kinda thought it would be an actually interesting way to use his character. He is a president of a really small fun club dedicated to Usagi, (since his glory days are long gone), and his last name is also just a little funny coincidence which he considers to be a sign from Fate. (Yes, he is not blood-related to Usagi in this story, hope it’s ok). He works with “Samurai Rabbit” version of Chizu as his camera assistant, because i actually find their dinamic fitting for the story.

They are finally able to arrange the interview with Usagi, and once they arrive, they are met with an old man with a scar over his left brow, red eyes, pale white skin and pale hair. I strongly headcanon human!Usagi to be albino, i hope it’s ok. Before the start of an actual interview, Yuichi gives Usagi a key, which an elder man instantly recognizes. He asks Yuichi where did he find it, but Yuichi says he only recieved it after the announcement of him doing this interview, with inctructions to give the key to Usagi. Usagi then shares that he lost the key a long time ago, and that it opens “the most important thing there is”.

He first tells of his childhood, which is pretty close to movie - Usagi was born in trying times for world, when Japan’s military ambitions led to conquest of Chinese lands. Usagi’s father was a grandson to a samurai turned merchant, whose position grew with Meiji period, and so Usagi’s father, while owning a business, a small shop, took big pride in his heritage, and taught his son to do so, to be proud of who he is as a person. Not to mention their common albinism. I wasn’t able to find any proper resource on history of albino people’s position throughout Japanese history (if you have any please contact me i’m really curious!), since some resources claim that due to beauty standarts albino people could have been even looked up to, others talk about white being associated with gods, priests and sacrality, while others point out white’s association with death. Nevertheless, I imagine Usagi’s childhood to be quite lonely, both because of his appearance and the fact that he was born on Chinese territories occupated by Japan - can’t imagine it to be the best place for a child to grow up in. He made a couple of close friends eventually, them being Kenichi, who couldn’t care less for Usagi’s looks, and Mariko, who also didn’t care that some people considered Usagi scary (can’t blame them with the look he can give when he’s angry - even as a child!) and even considered his red eyes to be “really pretty”.

As a boy he, of course, grew up listening to stories of greatest samurai and their war victories, and so he would sometimes dream of becoming a war hero, great soldier, strong and respected. The perspective of inheriting his father’s business didn’t really thrilled him.

When he was a teenager, nearly coming of age, he was approached with a proposal from a “Kita” film studio. One of their representative noticed Usagi and thought his interesting appearence would look good on screen, so they offered Usagi to participate in filming. Miyamoto Sr. refused the offer, both not wanting his son to be actively involved in Japanese propoganda , since you never know which way the wind will blow, and wanting Usagi to inherit his business. Usagi, not a fun of idea, felt devastated, and left the house to clear his head. It was bright winter day outside. It was then, when a fateful meeting took place.

A stranger runs straight into Usagi, causing them both to fall. Next moment, the stranger is already helping Usagi up, and Usagi looks at him - it is a young man, around Usagi’s age, and he apologizes to him, before running away. Usagi, startled, didn’t even say anything. But then, he notices an item, apparantely something stranger lost. It is a simple key, and Usagi picks it up. He is then approached by a group of men in police uniform, one of them asking if Usagi saw a “runaway urchin”. Usagi says he stumbled in him and directs men the wrong way. Then, making sure they left, he follows the boy himself, only to find him not that far away, wounded.

So, I think so far an implication of the stranger boy being Leonardo is pretty much clear. I’m not describing him in any way since it will ruin one of the plot points, and also, again, because i don’t follow any specific version of tmnt. But i think it was less clear that one of the policemen following Leo is Oroku Saki himself - i had hard time figuring out how to point him out since his appearance is always different and there’s nothing special about it either, aside from his armor, soo please share if you have any ideas how to do him.

Then, Usagi hides the boy in the storage of his father’s shop and treats his injuries. They have a talk, in which boy talks about his home, and how it’s full white during winter, (I associate each turtle from any version with seasons, with Donnie representing spring to me, Mikey - summer, Raph - autumn, and Leo - winter, don’t fight me, i might write about it later), and how he can’t wait to go back there and be with his family in peace, once again. They also talk about war - the boy, who I now will call just Stranger, mentions that his whole family fights now, even his younger brothers, and how he will join theme soon. They also talk about hope - for better tommorow. I think this whole theme of moving along to new day fits Leo really well (ninja’s greatest weapon you guys). Eventually, Usagi asks about the key he found, but when Stranger tells that it opens the most important thing and Usagi asks to elaborate, Stranger simply promises to tell him after he comes back from Manchuria and the war ends. They make a promise to each other.

Since then, Usagi just can’t keep the boy and his words out of his head. It’s like his whole image of the world shifted. Kenichi and Mariko even mocked him, claiming he must have fallen in love. The thought terrifies Usagi, which i suppose goes without an explanation, and he runs away from his friends in embarrassament and even horror. It is then when he finds the very same key once again, realizes something is wrong and rushes home. There he’s met with Katsuichi, who works for Miyamoto Sr. He tells Usagi of a terrible outlaw hidding in their shop and then whispers quitely that Stranger succesfully made it to train staiton. And Usagi runs there. Train leaves right in front of him. He stops there, watching the train go, with a promise to find Stranger, give him the key and learn what it opens. He remembers “Kita” studio’s proposal and thinks that if he makes it to the big screen the Stranger has chance of finding him himself.

Yuichi and Chizu follow the scene with great attention, until Yuichi shares a tear and whispers how it’s his favourite scene from that movie.

Apparently, they just “witnessed” a scene from one of Usagi’s first movies. Chizu is extreamly confused.

Later after that, Katsuichi talks with Miyamoto Sr. and they discuss what happens in West. The war, greater than any war they could have imagine, is upcoming. Usagi is considered adult now. To make sure he avoids military service, Katsuichi, not being in favor of Japan’s curent regime and not wanting Usagi to go to battlefield for it, advises to let the boy go to the film studio. Miyamoto Sr. can only agree. Thus, Usagi’s acting career begins.

Of course, they go to film in Manchuria. On the way there, Usagi meets studio’s main director, whose last name is Mifune, and who seems to geniully like Usagi and thinks he has talent and great future ahead of him, and curent project’s main actor Hikiji. Studio workers share that Hikiji is a cruel, slick type and apparently is in conflict with Mifune, so who knows how that is going to end. He also meets young man called Noriyuki, currently a director assistant dreaming of becoming a director himself. They become kind friends, and Usagi shares the story of the key with him, not bringing up the “in love” part of the story.

In the current movie Usagi plays a young japanese soldier, and Hikiji’s character finds out he joined army only to find someone, currently fighting here in Manchuria. He shames boy for not serving his country properly but Usagi’s character claims that he would gladly die for his counrty, he just has to see this person, just this once again. Due to lack of expirience, Usagi sometimes lacks in perfomance, which Hikiji uses to harass the boy. Their rival starts, and it’s both terifying and pathetic how much hatred a grown man can have for one single boy. He constantly shames him, harasses him, and treats him roughly. But Usagi just keeps going, gives actually good perfomance and impresses the whole crew. News claim that more active military confrontation takes place on the north of the province. Strangely, this is where filming of the next movie takes place.

It is jidaigeki film, taking place in Heian period, where Usagi plays a guardian to the lord. After that, the narrative goes completely blended in terms of Usagi’s actaul life and his roles. In this movie, Usagi’s castle is attacked and his lord is killed, but before he can follow him to death, a strange mystical figure appears. It seems to be a man, slim, tall, looking slighlty demonic. He curses Usagi to neverending path, the one that will never give him the peace of Death.

This is when another man appears, and sends demon away. Apperantely, he is Usagi’s character friend, who is a demon queller taught in arts of sorcery. He claims that demon triked Usagi and that his lord is away somewhere else and they need to find him.

In the next scene Usagi appears playing a samurai of a Muromachi era, who seeks to save his lord and bring revenge on their enemies. Together with a character’s comrad, a warrior no less fierce than Usagi’s character, they fight through the enemy’s ranks, when Usagi’s friend covers Usagi from the blow and thus gets killed. Usagi promises to never forget his scrifice.

Chizu watches old, “feeble” Usagi and Yuichi re-acting the scene with a great regret of being here in the first place. This is also when she dicedes to clear if she’s not mistaken and after filming this movie Mifune was arrested for cooperating with anti-japanese forces in China and in West and “Kita” was disbanded. It appears to be true.

(a place to insert the famous “Run” scene, unironically one of the greatest scenes in history of cinema, and not the last one from this movie!)

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Usagi, as considered close to Mifune and his family, was also arested and interrogated. Memories blend once again. He’s pretty sure a familiar face was among interogatores, the one that already asked him questions once. Nevertheless, Usagi is soon released, due to lack of any proofs of his involvment.

Next follows the discussion of Japanese war forces and activities during WWII. This is a sensitive topic, so please proceed with caution and please keep in mind that I in no case have any intention to dismiss Japan’s war crimes, i’m simply portraing a person living a life through such times and figuring out a way to live through them. (I’m not making Usagi a war criminal, god please no-)

After that, Usagi and other young men from studio are sent to war. His expirience granted him possition in the Aerial Photography, within Aviation division. There he met Gunichi, who was somewhat his mentor during his service. During the time, Japanese army was expiriencing shortage of supplies, especially food, medicine and etc. Not to talk about casualties. Not to talk about increasing amount of kamikaze attacks closer to the end of war. Several of which Usagi witnessed. Several of which pilots he was familiar with. He was familiar with Gunichi who, as it turned out, sent those pilot to those missions. That led to a lot of conflicts and loosing a single person who he thought he could rely on. War left something in him that never could have been described.

And then it was over. Just like that. He served for no more than 3 years, which felt like decades, only for the war to end so abruptly. It should have ended in the very first month, and it felt like it would never end. He heard of what happened to Hiroshima and Nagasaki. He just wanted to go home.

Home that was no longer his, even if rightfully so. His father and Katsuichi moved away from border, deeper into the country, to safety, each on their own now. Usagi stayed here, helping to clear all the rubble. He just needed to do something, be useful somewhere. He was so deep in his work he didn’t even realised he reached what was left of their family shop. There stood a wall of their storage. On the wall something was written. Somehow, Usagi knew who wrote this. And it cleared up everything.

あなたは一人じゃない

He moves to Tokio to reunite with Noriyuki and accept his offer to return to acting. After-war times are tought, but they just try to keep doing what they do best - to make movies. Besides, with the War over, the Stranger just has to fullfill his promise, right?

During the time, Usagi keeps playing in jigaideki movies. In a first movie directed by Noriyuki himself, Usagi plays Edo period ronin, who befriends a ninja and thus becomes a suspect in crime forced upon the said ninja. He’s interrogated, but never says anything. It’s not like he knows anything useful anyway. Later he is released with a help of his old another “shaddy” friend, a young lady who also happens to be a thief. Apparantely, she gave up all the money she stole to release him.

Reality blends again. He is released again, and the guard, all too familiar, says they don’t need him anymore, they found the criminal anyway. Realisation hits him just as he watches familiar figure disapearing behind jail’s gates, and once again he’s not fast enough to reach him in time.

Present time Usagi doesn’t feel good. Yuichi asks if they should stop for today, but Usagi insists to keep telling the story.

After war, he also reunited with Kenichi and Mariko, with Mariko apparently waiting to meet him again all these years and Kenichi in love with Mariko. And Usagi can’t help but think that maybe this is what he actually wants. Something he must want. She is beautiful, sweet and perfect, right here.

There is also, right here, on little chain on his neck, the key.

When Chizu, eager for little drama, asks if they were actually a thing in the end, Usagi just says “Wouldn’t you like to know” with a funny smile. So, yeah, sorry, no confirmation or denial of Jotaro’s existance in here, but you can think it up yourself!

Usagi’s career bloomed and so the new studio he worked on - “Geishu”. He meets Tomoe Ame, who works alongside with Noriyuki. Many speculate her and Usagi to be a thing. Usagi’s father demands them to be a thing. Katsuichi points out it’s been years since him and Stranger last met. Usagi finally snaps and says he knows young man is still alive and he will find him no matter what. Even if he’s going to search forever.

It’s like a curse, honestly.

His mental state is not good, both from him overworking himself on studio, his untreated PTSD and just overall stress. He snaps during work once, thus enraging Hikiji, for whom it’s one of his last role before he retires. To try to stay in touch with a world and reality, Usagi reaches out to the key. It’s not there.

It’s gone.

Whole studio is on edge, trying to find the key, until one of the workers gets curious and starts asking what’s the story with the key.

The narrative switches to Usagi playing a teacher somewhere after a war, who’s trusted with a troublesome class but who eventually manages to earn their trust and respect. They ask him about his loved one. They ask him how they met. They ask him if she’s pretty.

Usagi realises he can’t even remember young man’s face. He never learned anything about him and he can’t even remember his face.

Yuichi asks if this was when he decided to propose to Tomoe. He did, but sometime after the proposal Tomoe approached him with a gift and asking to break off the engagement. It was the key. The very same one. When asked, she explained she as at Hikiji’s place, something to do with sorting things out with his retirment, when she found this. All these years, Hikiji hated Usagi. For his spirit. For his strenght. For being able to move forward even after all these years, no matter what he did to break him. Not even after Hikiji told authorities about Mifune.

Usagi is enranged, when a man, whose face is slightly familiar, but only so, approaches him and says someone wants to see him. Usagi is shocked to see the same policeman who kept chasing the Stranger all this time. It’s hard to say what imprinted him more, war or post-war, but he looks terrible. He tells Usagi about the young man he captured, and how he kept a letter for Usagi and now, after the war, the man decided to atone for his crimes and was finally able to reach to Usagi and give him the letter.

Usagi reads the letter. He can’t just stand there anymore. He spent all these years, searching, being on his way to this unknown young man. He can’t stop now. He rushes out of the studio, Yuichi and Chizu following him, but before they leave, Yuichi notices a man, the same one that announced the visitor. The man was standing above the visitor, who was on his knees, in position of deepest apologies. The man watched him silently, not moving.

Meanwhile Usagi rushes to the train station - trough the rain flooded streets, through the traffic, slipping, falling, stumblign into people, but not even noticing them. Only words from the letter replaying in his head.

“I regret never being able to thank you. I want to see you, but the war grows more intense each day. When the war is over, and the peace has come, I will go home, and I will see my family. Some day, I’d like you to meet them. I am sure they will like you. And then, I’ll show you the sky, the clear sky, just as I promised.”

It’s like he’s everyone and everywhere at the scale of time. He’s an Edo period Ronin, coming for his friend, he’s Samurai, protecting his lord, he’s a young soldier, coming through war to find his loved one, he’s even a young leuitanant who refuses to fight the giant kaiju because a person dear to him is eager to protect it.

The train Usagi takes is derailed, and he goes throug the forest by himself, not able to stop. When he reaches the road, a motorcyclist , a young man with his hair bleached white, asks if he needs a ride. Chizu chuckles, finally stating that now she can finally recognize Yuichi.

Usagi carries on his way, going through the winter covered lands of Stranger’s home, like it’s some alien planet, where human’s foot steps for the first time. And on that planet, a single wall stands, with familiar phrase wrote unfinished. Ink leaves the trail behind the wall, and when Usagi goes there, a figure stands at horizon and waves at him awkwardly, before dissapearing fully. Usagi claims to fulfill his promise and find the Stranger, to not stop until he finds him.

***

This is the moment for me to stop you right there and show the actual scene. Usually “Run” is considered to be the most important scene in the movie, which i can’t argue with - it’s beautifully made scene that always me go heart-shape eyes.

But

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This scene right here, is the epitome of the movie for me. It’s like an antipode to “Run”, with “Run” being full of ligth hope, love and joy of journey. “Actress in the time layers”, this scene, is if “Run” was filled with desperation, rush, attempt to clatch at something that slips through fingers. But it’s still, on its basis, is full of hope.

And i consider THIS scene to be the most important in the movie.

***

During the filming of one of Usagi’s last movies, an earthquake takes place, causing filming set to colapse. Usagi gets burried under all the rubble, but a man helps him out, asks if he’s okay. Man’s face is so familiar. So familiar but never enought, it’s like demons are laughing at him. It’s his curse and his greatest joy, to keep searching.

He snaps and leaves the set. Key is forgotten there, only to that unfortunate man to pick it up.

After the incident, Usagi finally left cinema, leaving behind a huge legacy and a lot of questions which he never answered.

When now asked by Yuichi why did he leave, Usagi shows him and Chizu the fragment of the wall with あなたは一人じゃない writtern on it. He was no longer the boy Stranger met all those years ago. The Stranger himself definately no longer a boy himself.

Usagi’s condition gets worse, and an ambulance takes him to the hospital. While on their way there, Yuichi takes out the box where he held the key and takes out a folded paper from under it’s lining. He explains to Chizu that this letter was sent to him along with the key, but he didn’t fully understood it and so decided to first give Usagi the key and then decide what to do with the letter.

Apparently the key and the letter were sent by a member of the Stranger’s family. In the letter, they explain that Stranger himself was killed during interrogation year before the war ended. All these years, Usagi was chasing the ghost of the dead man.

The doctors explain that Usagi won’t make it, and Yuichi and Chizu go to say their goodbyes. Yuichi gently points out that maybe now he will be finally able to meet the Stranger again. Usagi thanks them, deeply grateful for giving him the opportunity to step on this road to him again. After all, he quite enjoyed coming all this way.

I imagine the very last scene to be him playing a ronin, stepping on his way to continue his journey forward, who knows where. It’s autumn.

***

As for Yuichi, his prototipe, Genya, also has his own character arc, and I have not forgotten about him. Within the fandom, I had my own issues with Yuichi, not with him as a character, but rather him and Usagi being used as each other’s loose change, which i think is just fundamentaly wrong in relation to both characters. Even more so, Yuichi is often portrait as if he does not have his own character, so he has tendancy to be portrait as wanted by each fan differently. Which i don’t want to frame as something forbidden or blasphemy, but it’s just something that i’m uncomfortable with. And so, practically, i made the main arc for Yuichi in this story - which is to come to terms with his own self. Throughout the story, he wears masks of other characters that appear in Usagi’s movies - he chooses to be anyone but himself - scrawny kid who just really loves this movie star and his works. And his journey with Usagi is a path to himself, to who he is at the end.

***

I hope you liked this concept, trust me, it was much better in my head, and i know i made a mistake trying to express this story in words, because it heavily relies on visual storytelling, especially through montage. So, here’s the thing - if you liked the premise, go watch the movie, and just visualise it. Trust me, it’s so worth it, with Con’s vision brought to life, beautiful animation and Susumu Hirasawa’s magnificent soundtrack.

Thanks for reading!!!

#millennium actress #Usagi Yojimbo #tmnt #leosagi #crossover #so sorry #i’m so normal about this movie and AU

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kiwibeanv · 7 months ago

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Astray in the Black Water: Post-Chapter 3: Atsushi

<- Chapter 3

It was another day after reuniting Kouyou with Chuuya. Another night where you didn’t get your full sleep. Though, at least the request was done and you can recover. At noon, you went through the diamond door to get to your cafe. There you saw Atsushi at the counter alone. It was a small surprise to see him.

“Good morning,” you greet as you got behind the counter, sitting at your corner.

Atsushi says “good morning” back. “You look tired. Have you been up lately?” He asked.

You nod and took out your logbook and pen. “I have. Last night I was looking for a missing person with a client. Luckily we were able to find her and get her home.”

“Alive right?”

“Mhmm.” You opened the book to write about the recent case. “It's a miracle I have found two people in a row living. Mt. Hikami is known for deaths, mostly due to suicide. There are books about legends and the history of the mountain. Ever read any?”

Atsushi hummed to think. “Only about the past cases happening there. Suicides, missing people, and a couple accidents until the tourism company decided to abandon construction.”

You figured since Atsushi was working in the Armed Detective Agency, the organization had access to those cases directly. It was strange that they weren’t called to investigate if there was something else going on in the mountain. Perhaps the investigators had little faith that anyone could solve these mysteries. Blaming ghosts is not acceptable as a fact since most would doubt their credibility. Especially when the body went missing, there was nothing else to go on.

“So why hasn’t your agency investigated the mountain?” You asked.

“We were called to, but that’s when Kyouka disappeared.”

“Oh… does your agency intend to continue?”

“Yeah. I’ll say it’s putting everyone on edge. There’s no bad guy or organization behind this. Nothing makes sense. It might be one of those rare cases where we could blame ghosts. If so, we need to figure out a way to stop all these disappearances.”

His words made you think about reading those books again about Mt. Hikami. Perhaps these legends and myths could have some truth to it. You were aware of some of it’s history, the murder of shrine maidens and an old cult that used it as a place of worship. Though, it could be time to look for the finer details to put the story together.

“You might have to quietly solve the case. No news should come of it,” you suggested, for the sake of their integrity.

“Maybe…” Atsushi averted his eyes and took a sip of the drink he had.

“Going off topic, Dazai kept the photo of you and Kunikida cowering behind the ghost, no?” You asked as you looked for a photograph in the drawers.

Atsushi sighed. “Yes he does and it’s annoying how he reminds us of it. Why?”

You took a picture out and handed it over to him. A small smile graced your lips. “Game should be equal. I wouldn’t want Dazai to have the upper hand at teasing.”

Atsushi raised his brow as he took the photo from your hand. It was the picture of the tall woman spirit facing Dazai’s fleeing form. A chuckle escaped his lips.

“Dazai got chased by a ghost?” He looked at you with amusement.

“I can suspect he tried to follow me. He ended up running away from the same ghost that tried to chase us.”

“I guess he gets what he deserves. Thanks (Last Name)-san.” Atsushi smiled sweetly.

“And now you can tease him back with that. I can always print extra, should he ever destroy it~”

“Good to know,” he took another glance of the photo. “Do you think you can help us again? Investigate the mountain? Your abilities can really help us.”

You thought about it for a moment. Helping the ADA for a good cause? (It was better than associating with a certain mafioso…) Since you had the equipment to fend off the aggressive spirits, you could have a better active role.

“I’d be happy to,” you say with a nod.

“Great!”

Atsushi was not only happy that the ADA could have a person that can help with the spirits, but that also meant he could get more chances to be with you. Sure, Dazai will attempt to steal your attention during work, but you weren’t easily giving into his advances. With that, he stood up from his seat to get ready to leave. He moved closer to let his hand brush with yours.

“You’ll always find us in our office. Stop by when you can,” a small blush tinted his cheeks.

“Will do,” you smiled as you watched him leave.

#ff x bsd astray in the black water #bungo stray dogs x reader #atsushi x you #atsushi x reader #atsushi nakajima x reader #atsushi x fem! reader

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duckyfruitbat · 10 months ago

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I Gush about Percy Jackson and Rick Riordan

So I was thinking of talking about J.K Rowling for a while now, but at this point there is nothing left to talk about with her and her work. I could detail her fall into transphobia and how betrayed the trans Harry Potter fans felt, but said fans have detailed that far better than I ever could. I could point out her sloppy writing and how it would become accidentally racist, like with character names or S.P.E.W, the ladder being not so accidental, but that's been done to death. I could detail how the Chamber of Secrets and the story of Tom Riddle can have a transphobic reading to it despite being years before Rowling's downfall. I could bring up the antisemitic history of the goblins and how Hogwarts Legacy doubled down on that. I could go over all of that but it has all been said by people who are bigger, better, and hotter than me. I was just going to leave the subject be entirely, but then I saw a comparison that was actually in my ballpark. I'm going to gush about the Percy Jackson series, and Rick Riordan for a 1000+ words with maybe a few good Harry Potter jabs, and there's nothing you can do about it!

Now I haven't actually read the Harry Potter books, I've only seen the movies, my brothers copies have been festering on my reading list since they came out. However I have read the entire Percy Jackson series along with a few of the spin offs. It was the first book series I've read and it's a hell of a series to start with. It has been compared to Harry Potter plenty of times, due to both series being about magical children going to a special school or in this case camp, to better learn about their abilities and survive in a world where they must remain hidden, all the while the big baddie is plotting in the background and constantly toying with them. The Percy Jackson series goes out of the way to point out how fucked up it is to put the burden of stopping the main villain on children right from the word go.

The first book alone actively calls out the "good guys" of the series for being a bunch of deadbeat parents, who are essentially sending their kids into a meat grinder as the series progresses. This is a series that looks at the abusive step parent and says, no fuck him, turn him to stone! At the end of the series the characters actually start setting up a new status quo to avoid another war, because the gods weren't going to do that. The whole first series was just a constant stream of taking the gods off of the pedestal they put themselves on, often by their own kids who were fighting on their side in a war.

The books were also really well researched, I remember taking mythology classes in college and noticing how accurate it all was. The things that looked like inaccuracies were really just regional variations of the story, and well known misconceptions that have been addressed in the series. When Tantalus appeared in the second book he told both variations of his story as a campfire story to scare the kids. All the gods act well within character, except now Zeus is on a leash, granted that was due to a law the gods passed to save their asses. Aphrodite is a hopeless romantic, Hades is done with everything, and no one likes Hera or Ares. There are also plenty of scenes where the gods are being petty in ways that are plenty at home in the original myths. Poseidon, Artemis, and Apollo are the most sympathetic of the gods who regularly appear, and Apollo is getting constantly smacked down for his ego in his own spin off.

Something that catches my attention, like the little toy prize in a kinder surprise, is all the queer representation. Beyond the base Percy Jackson series, there is actually quite a lot. This has resulted in Riordan being a well known and decent ally to the community unlike another successful fantasy writer. Alex Fierro was my first exposure to a gender fluid character, she is in the Magnus Chase series and he also ends up falling for and getting together with the title character. Nico Diangelo was the first gay character I've ever seen that wasn't in an obscure anime with problematic themes.

In the initial Percy Jackson series we don't see any gay representation, but I'm chucking that up to the characters still being kids and only just hitting puberty as well as the series only being from the perspective of a straight teenage himbo. Oh and it's all taking place and being released in the mid 2000's.

In the sequel series there are several queer characters, most of the gods are in some way queer, because that's just how the original myths were. In the Trials of Apollo series we actually see Apollo having some Bi panic as he see cute men and women, one of the villains even being his bitter ex. Over the years some more characters came out of the closet and are actually happy, being paired up in positive wonderful relationships, like everyone's favorite emo boy ghost king Nico. Another thing is that these characters haven't been sacrificed for the sake of bury your gays. Wow Ducky, that's a really low bar. I know you'd think it would be easier to clear, yet there it is on the floor, and here is Rick Riordan actively trying to raise it so that it isn't a tripping hazard. This is all within the text of the books, all revealed in just plain faced readings. There is no hiding in allegory, no ambiguity, and no secondary source needed like twitter. These revelations are then followed through not only within the same book but in the sequels and spin offs. Nico Diangelo gets a boyfriend at the end of Heroes of Olympus named Will Solace who did appear in the Percy Jackson series, and they are just an adorable couple.

Another thing that you don't see much is that most of the characters are neuro-divergent in some way. Mostly ADHD, and dyslexia, even the smart characters struggle with it. There are scenes where Annabeth, the brains of the operation, struggles with reading and focusing. Side note, I ended up finding the characters incredibly relatable in these moments while I read the books, and some tests are telling me that there might be a good reason.

One thing that Riordan struggles with is diversity with cultures, he is well aware of this, so he actively props up people in those cultures writing about them under Rick Riordan Presents. This is a guy who genuinely cares about what he writes about, he's not trying to hide rep in twitter posts, he's not having a public meltdown with "middle aged moments", and he is not talking down to his readers while bragging about his wealth. It's honestly a shame that his work, despite being incredibly popular, is still in Rowling's shadow. It didn't help that the original movies were...well they existed.

Honestly I owe a lot to the Percy Jackson series. Without it I wouldn't have read all the books I have, I wouldn't have started writing in my free time, and I wouldn't have gotten my bachelor's in journalism. I wouldn't be on this blog talking about piracy, and media that I love if it wasn't for these books. This series has truly inspired me and sent me on the path that I am still walking on. Who knows where I would've ended up without it. I doubt that anyone who is reading this hasn't read any of Riordan's works, but if you are reading this, go pick up a copy! You won't regret it.

#duckyfruitbat #percy jackson #rick riordan #rambling #books #gay representation

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star--nymph · 2 years ago

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Soooo, what’s the dynamic between these two OC’s. It seems intensely fun and just intense. Who/what are they to each other? I’ve seen bits and pieces that give glimpses but I grow all the more curious, especially with this beautifully charged art piece.

HO BOY. I'M GLAD YOU ASKED.

-slams down book of lore-

So I touched on the general premise here. But let's see if I can summarize their backgrounds in a way that makes sense:

Taking place an alternate earth called Eua, Artemis is the leader of a anarchist cult/crime syndicate named Deity that worships him as self-made God-King and wants to bring a new era to the world through violent, bloody means. Along with the ability to morph any part of his body into a unbreakable black metal at will, Artemis tots that he was able to 'eat god' and gain godhood through those means--and that anyone can do so if they have the strength and belief in him. Think of him as the worst prosperity pastor you can think of, make him hot, and imagine he also saying 'now kill people for me'. That's the most simplified version I can give you.

Kassandra, meanwhile, is an ex-military commander who created her own mercenary unit known as Godkiller for the explicit goal of hunting Artemis down and putting a stop to Deity's crimes against humanity. She's has a personal stake in all this because Artemis slaughtered her parents in front of her when she was ten years old, and she's been on this mad revenge journey ever since. On top of all that, Kass leaves behind an entire prestigious family legacy because the Rosales Family was famous linage that produced generations of military heroes. So on top of being on her own save for her team and being considered a traitorous deserter by the public, she's also referred to as disgrace.

The once promising 'golden child' who sacrificed everything for her 'pointless' revenge.

And Artemis could not be more thrilled about being chased down by her. I can not even begin to describe-- Okay, you know that one post that was like 'a nemesis is someone who you see across the room and know one day you're going to meet one a battle field for one final fight and the other is going to end you' or something like that. THAT'S THEM.

THAT'S THEIR HISTORY.

It is EIGHT YEARS (eight being them meeting up again when they were adults) OF THEM CHASE EACH OTHER DOWN. FIGHT TIT FOR TAT. ALWAYS YANKING AWAY JUST AT THE END BEFORE ONE CAN TAKE THEIR FINAL BREATH.

IT'S A DANCE.

It's my ode to hero/villain ships. And yeah Kassandra hates this fucker, she despises him, but she raises to meet him every goddamn second she hears from him. It's obsession, you know? The line between hatred and love. And Artemis loves her. Adores her. There is no one else on the planet he hopes puts a fucking bullet through her head. He wants to make this woman his Dark Queen--he wants to make her his GODDESS.

But to do that means he has to corrupt her, drag her down to where he's drowning in a pit of blood and visceral, have her breathe the same air, and say with all the same conviction as him that 'yes, I want this'.

'Wow that's fucked up, Kat'. YEAH I KNOW THAT'S THE POINT BRO. SHE WANTS TO PUT A BULLET INTO HIS BRAIN AND HE WANTS TO PUT A RING ON HER FINGER.

(and I swear to you Kass will be get to do the thing, I am not a 'revenge is bad' writer, I am a REVENGE IS JUSTIFIED, LET HER DO IT, JUST DON'T LET IT TURN HER INTO HIM, WRITER)

And there's so much more to it than this because they're mirrors to each others, they are so extremely similar and in another life, in another better place (or worst place, ya know), they could have been friends, they could have been soulmates. But they can't, not here. No matter how much Kass with her endless love (and god, I want to make this clear, more than Kass hates, more than she rages, she loves) pities him--but does not forgive him--and not matter how much Artemis genuinely, perhaps even tenderly adores her, they can't even be. They're going to do this dance, they may even be on the same side once or twice, they be equals on every front, but one day. One day this is going to end

and it's going to end with someone's blood on the other's hand.

I HAVE LOT TO SAY BUT THERE'S JUST SO MUCH. I HAVE BEEN WRITING THIS AND REWRITING THIS SINCE I WAS FOURTEEN. THIS IS MY SELF INDULGENT VILLAIN/HERO SHIP, I DO NOT CARE IF ANYONE HATES IT, THEY ARE MINE AND IF I DON'T STOP NOW I WILL NEVER STOP.

(but also they are a toxic relationship and they are not meant to be anything else, I want that understood)

PLEASE FEEL FREE TO ASK MORE.

ALSO HERE IS THEIR PLAYLIST AND PINTEREST BROADS (KASS, ARTEMIS, SHIP).

#deity oc- artemis #deity oc- kassandra rosales #writing #also for anyone wondering they are both wildly bisexual I only make queer people #Godkiller//Deity

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maggicktouched · 2 years ago

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Verses;; Daniel Molloy;; In Another Life (book!verse)

Name: Daniel Adrian Molloy Physical Age: 32 Actual Age: 70 FC: Hair Color: Blonde Eye Color: Violet Species: Vampire Creator: The Vampire Armand Sexuality: Pansexual Gender: Male, leaning more toward nonbinary the older he gets Pronouns: He/him, They/them, honestly you could call him an it and he wouldn’t care. Personality: Stubborn, obsessive, sarcastic, curious, nonviolent, observant, passionate Diagnoses: C-PTSD, Autism

History:

Daniel was born on February 15th, 1953 to Diana and Kenneth Molloy. His mother was a secretary at a school, and his father worked in construction. Both were highly religious, and what Daniel remembers most about his childhood is long boring church services. Church was about the only place they got along. His father was always distant, he almost never spoke, and his mother was perpetually unhappy. It was not a wholly unpleasant childhood, in fact it felt pretty normal in the late fifties and into the sixties.

When he was fifteen, he was caught kissing another boy from his school under the bleachers during a football game. His parents kicked him out. So did the school. He hitch hiked his way across the country to California to move in with his estranged aunt, who the family had disowned for a similar reason. She got him enrolled in a local school and Dan got his high school diploma, but he never quite fit in. He’d thought California would be different from rural Ohio, but somehow he never fit anywhere. Friends never quite stuck. He’d find out he’d been the butt of a joke far too late to stop it. He was withdrawn. Quiet like his father, and that terrified him.

He moved out at eighteen to pursue a career in journalism. He rented a shitty apartment in LA and did odd jobs to support himself until he got hired on by a paper.

When he was twenty-three he met a man named Louis de Pointe du Lac who claimed to be a vampire. He hadn’t thought about the supernatural since he was ten, but he needed a good story. And what a tale it was. One that shifted the axis of his entire world in a matter of hours. One that changed the entire course of his life. This wasn’t the supernatural of the painted god his mother had prayed to, it was real and tangible, and he was obsessed. He travels to New Orleans with what little money he has left in a desperate attempt to find Lestat.

He finds Armand instead. Or rather, Armand finds him.

It’s terrifying. It’s thrilling. It’s intoxicating. It’s everything he’s ever wanted and it’s the monster under his bed all rolled into one. He runs for four long years of his life, tirelessly pursued by a monster with an angel’s face. Then one day the chase is done. Fear and frustration take on other shapes: love and addiction. He’d always been a heavy drinker, just like his mother, but this was something entirely different and wholly out of his control. But beyond it there is genuine love... and a deep exhaustion.

The cohabitation is never easy. Not when they are slumming in the apartments of Armand’s victims or in the lavish halls of the night Island. He craves the attention, he longs for the blood, and yet he often feels crushed by it. He had never been especially close to anyone. His life had been spent lingering on the outskirts, and Armand couldn’t seem to get close enough to sate himself. It was strange, flattering, off-putting, intoxicating, and it was all heightened by each new wrinkle on his face and the looming threat of his own mortality.

When he can’t stand it anymore, he starts to run. No amount of drinking or smoking or sex or drugs can fill the gaping hole made by his leaving. Only Armand was big enough for that.

He was on death’s door when Armand turned him, and the Queen of the Damned rose up and was defeated. He doesn’t know which one of them did the pulling away. Maybe Armand hated what he had become and shut him out of his heart. Maybe Daniel himself closed himself off. It happened too fast. One day he left, and he simply never went back, even when his breaking heart begged him to.

Left to his own devices he struggles with his own vampirism. He has no taste for killing. The world had already been too bright, too loud, too much for him to take most of the time as a mortal, but as a vampire it was so much worse. What should have been beauty was an endless torment. Until one day it was too much. He couldn’t stomach the real world. He became infatuated with creating his own worlds. Quiet, miniaturized cities that he loomed over and tended to like a loving god. Ideal places where things were as they should be---where he didn’t crave the life blood of everything he passed and where thoughts were close to him. As much as he could he lived in those worlds.

He’d been living under Marius’ roof for three months before he even properly realized it. His tolerance for the ancient vampire waned quickly, but he likely would have wasted away to nothingness or walked into the sunlight without him. They existed, for the most part, in silence. Marius would remind him to eat, Daniel would occasionally, in a fit of excitement and glee, usher Marius into the room to show him a new addition to his tiny towns, and then they’d return to pretending one another didn’t exist. Or, at least, that’s what Daniel did.

He stayed for two years, gradually coming to terms with his new life and learning to cope with its challenges. He mastered his more desperate, violent impulses and in doing so relieved himself of the guilt of killing.

Now Daniel is a wanderer. He’s very interested in the other beings out there---things that aren’t vampires. He reads and researches and travels at his leisure.

For the most part, for the first time in his life, he is content, and yet he is deeply lonely.

Canon Divergencies: Daniel never has a romantic relationship with Marius, Daniel has an actual backstory, Daniel is autistic, blood sharing is not the vampire version of sex (see this post for more information on how I feel about that and why), I generally play him after the events of the books and I’m not extremely familiar with any of the novels past TVA. I have a vague idea of what happens, however, and I’m willing to discuss plot points within them or engage with later characters.

#verses;; Daniel Molloy;; In Another Life (book!verse)

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chill-pills-yandere-haven · 2 years ago

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The Little Prince

An: Thank you to @187-mg for the picture and the inspiration for this one shot! All hail Nagisa! But anyway, this one is a bit dark and I got to play with the childhood friends tripe for the first time! And this drabble was a little inspired by the story of Cain and Abel if your willing to look up the details. Enjoy!

Tw: Yanderes, murder, (my search history looks like a really stupid murderer's lol, couldn't find any pictures of people being repeatedly bashed with a rock tho so may be a little inaccurate 😭), description of murder, not that explicit but not light either, Nagisa needs help, Nagisa improvs murder, don't worry, we're not killing any of the boys today, just a nameless chara

Once upon a time, there was a boy.

He was taken in and treated like a prince.

This little prince had everything he could've ever wanted, yet not a friend in the world.

One night, this little prince wanted to go outside his lonely castle. He wanted to meet other kids like him. After all, he had always been such a curious child.

On his trip to the outside world, he met someone.

Another child who, despite the little prince being a complete outsider, made the little prince feel like he truly belonged.

They had a wonderful time together. And the prince realized that that was the first time he had ever felt… human.

He found that he loved the feeling. That he loved spending time with his new friend.

Alas, he knew he'd have to leave his new friend. He didn't want to risk getting them in trouble. So he left. But before he left, he left them with a promise.

"We'll meet again someday."

And he never saw his friend again.

Nagisa was on his usual trip to the library. Ibara had gotten him into reading and brought him books from time to time, but he still enjoyed picking a couple out for himself.

He was looking through the shelves of one of his favourite genres when he noticed someone else looking through the shelves.

They looked at the books carefully but didn't scrutinize them nearly as much as Nagisa had them.

Something about them felt… familiar.

Their hair, their pretty eyes, and their face were all reminiscent of something…

No, that would be impossible.

They'd have had to have gone somewhere else by now. Nagisa assumed they had gone out of the country.

And why would they be in the same library as him? At this single moment? Fate?

He looked at them more, trying to prove that it wasn't you. But he couldn't deny it.

It was you.

The one who set his heart ablaze, who let him know how it felt to live.

He had looked for you since forever. But he hadn't even gotten your name during the one night he finally felt alive.

"Excuse me? Are you alright?"

That was your voice.

It was a lot more mature than when he last heard it, but that only contributed to its beauty.

Nagisa had spent his whole life trying to chase after you.

Now here you were.

And he had to admit, you blossomed into a true beauty.

"Oh, I'm perfectly fine. But… I think I recognize you. What's your name?" Nagisa asked, feigning curiosity and hiding his excitement.

"Yeah, I was thinking the same. I think I know you from somewhere," you replied and told Nagisa your name.

So that was your name?

It was quite beautiful to him. In his eyes, it perfectly suited you.

And even better, you still remembered him!

Yes, you were a bit forgetful, but he'd jog your memory. You were everything to him. The life you gave him was a feeling he had been trying to revive ever since that day he left you. He'd do anything for you.

He didn't want to come off as too zealous though. Technically, this was your first meeting with Nagisa since you forgot your first meeting with him. He made light conversation and gave his name as well.

Yet he almost couldn't help himself. You were his saviour. You showed him what to live for. You were his god. Ever so sweet and kind.

Actually, everything about you was god-like. The way you walked. The tone of voice you used. The way you smiled at certain books. Nagisa had never wanted to be a big stitched-up stack of paper so badly. Even the way you looked at things was beautiful to him.

Juicy lips with just the right amount of plumpness to them. Nagisa could feel his face heat up as he took in the smallest of details about you. And wow, your eyes were pretty.

But then, those lips were on another's.

What?

What the hell just happened?

"Hey, you done now honey bun?" The piece of scum that had the nerve to kiss you said to you. You even held them close!

How?

Why?

Nagisa's brain was going haywire at the implications of this.

Such scum merely existing in the presence of his god, his saviour, his love. It disgusted him.

He had to get rid of it.

Cleanse you of such filth.

Maybe then, he could bask in your light.

He waited just a bit. He could be patient, he waited for you for so many years before.

He kept the filth in his sights and made sure no one could see them and Nagisa. Ibara could clean up any messes after. He had a bit of a hold on the police authority so he could force the case to go cold if he had to. After all, Ibara had done some immoral things himself. As he said though, it was all fair in the name of love.

Luckily, you left for the bathroom.

Nagisa pulled the piece of scum aside.

Nagisa made up a convincing story about him needing to talk with that waste of space because he was one of your exes and needed to tell them something. He used this opportunity to ask regular questions like what they were out doing.

Apparently, the two of you were going around the city together all on foot and you were planning on going to a cafe next. A little casual and strange for Nagisa's tastes, but if you wanted to, he'd go on any kind of date with you.

He pulled them into the alleyway where the library's big garbage bin was. Nagisa could steal their phone after and tell you that they went ahead to the cafe. Then, dump everything in the garbage and tell Ibara to be ready for a cover-up. Nagisa could escape through the other side of the alleyway.

Ibara had promised him that he would if Nagisa ever had something like this happen to him.

The body may not even be found for days as well. You'd probably think they left or something.

"So, what do you need to tell me? Something like they cheated on you?" They asked. As though you, Nagisa's god, would ever do such a thing. But even if you did, you'd have a good reason.

He was starting to tire of hearing this scum waste air.

He grabbed a rock and bashed their skull in.

One hit and they were on their knees. It was pathetic, they flailed and yelled.

"Fucking god, man, look, if you want them, you can have them! I don't give a shit about them!" They yelled.

They didn't give a shit about you?

Nagisa felt his blood boil. They had everything he ever wanted, yet he didn't give a shit about it?!

Maybe they did need to be shut up.

Nagisa banged the rock into their throat, hoping he could completely crush it. It caved in awkwardly and he could see blood pooling.

Everything was so loud, he almost couldn't take it.

Again.

More.

He needed more.

More blood.

He needed to eradicate this piece of scum from the earth.

So they could never touch his god ever again.

And so, he kept on going.

They were long dead, but something in Nagisa just had him beating them until they were a mess of guts and blood and bone and ick. Until they were completely unidentifiable.

They looked more like a chunky splatter of meat than a person now. How had he done this?

It was all too much.

The musk of sweat and blood and death in the air that somehow carried a certain sweetness to it. Everything seemed silent now, as Nagisa stood, the rock still in hand. Even the feeling of his clothes on his skin disturbed him.

His heart raced.

He had just ended another human's life.

But he did it for you.

So it was all okay, wasn't it?

This was the culmination of his love.

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letarasstuff · 4 years ago

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Normal People don't know their IQ

(A/N): Inspired by me, who recently discovered normal people don’t know their IQ, while I was tested two or three times already...

Summary: A certain someone is the only way to get the UnSub. But there’s also something different that makes her special.

Warnings: Angst (fluffy end, I swear), language, mentions of rape and torture, mention of dead people, the usual CM stuff I guess Wordcount: 2.0k

✨Masterlist✨ _________________________________________

“Garcia, I need you to look into high school teachers, who are suspended or fired for inappropriate behavior towards students and live in the area of the kidnappings”, Hotch orders in a stern voice. But you can’t blame him, after all there are currently six dead teenage girls and one missing. One can only hope and work as fast as possible to get her back to her parents alive.

The team is working a case in Sacramento, California. Teenage girls get abducted on their way home from school, are held for exactly a week and are killed by a simple cut to their throat. The torture they have to endure beforehand isn’t as simple. The last two also show signs of rape.

The dumbing sites are different parks all over the city. The placing happens overnight only to have the girls found the next morning by a clueless jogger or stroller.

“Let’s go over the profile again, I feel like we are missing something”, Rossi commands. His gut feeling tells him only that much, he just has to find out what it is.

“It’s a white male in his mid thirties to late forties. He blends in, so he has to be or has been a teacher. Someone who looks like they belong into a school isn’t suspicious”, Spencer counts the facts.

“The victims all look similar, probably resembling an ex-wife or girlfriend”, Morgan adds. Before he can get into the depth of the torture a phone rings.

“My lovely crime fighters, I got an address. Charles Collins. philosophy and history. Got suspended for suggestive talk towards his female students. He is also said to stare at them and certain body parts for way too long and way too obvious. Gross. Annnd that- wait”

“What is it, Garcia?” Hotch asks after a moment of silence, which is unusual for the ever bubbly tech analyst.

“You got your profile wrong. Collins doesn’t take these girls because of an ex flame.”

The team looks at each other in confusion. Garcia always stresses how she isn’t a profiler and can’t judge over people, because she only wants to see the good in them. How is she able to tell that the profile is off?

“Shoot baby girl, we don’t have much time left”, Derek urges her. He wants nothing more than to have this SOB finally behind bars. The whole team wants that.

“He has a daughter. Technically it’s not his daughter, it’s someone else’s, but he is her foster father. Go and please save both girls!”

Penelope doesn’t have to say it twice. After a brief thank you and goodbye the team is on their way to the given address. As soons as they get there, everyone notices the absence of a car in the driveway. Hotch sends Spencer, Emily and Derek through the back door, the rest goes in from the front.

“FBI! OPEN UP!”

It’s needless to say that nobody opens up. There is no other way than kicking the doors down.

After entering the house and clearing the first floor, Rossi points towards the stairs that leads to the first story. There are only two rooms. A bathroom right hand and a closed door left hand.

Morgan counts quietly down before also kicking this door down and screaming “FBI!” But he seemingly talks with air, because there is no one to be found. Once again the team swarms out to look for evidence or clues.

As Spencer looks through the room they cleared last, he sees various things that make him smile. Several bookshelves are flooded with all kinds of genres, authors and covers. At first he can’t make out in which way they are sorted. But a closer look makes him realize that they are sorted by the author’s birth year. The doctor is kind of impressed, because that means the person knows when they are born in order to find a certain book. He likes the idea, it is a nice little challenge.

While he investigates further a sound makes him stop. He sends a text to Emily and waits for her. When she enters the room Spencer gestures to her to keep it quiet. Then he points to the bed.

They lower themselves down to the floor at the same time on each side of it. A girl, no older than 14 years, lays there shivering in angst. With big doe eyes she looks at Spencer and whispers:

“Please don’t hurt me.”

A while later the team is back at the station with the girl sitting in one of the interrogation rooms. The temperature is already set down, though Hotch feels really bad for it. Still there is another girl out there waiting to be safed.

“Baby girl, what can you give us on her?” Morgan sets his phone in the middle of the table and switches the speaker on.

“Our little girl’s name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), fourteen years old. Parents were deemed to be unable to look after her since they are both heavy drug addicts and didn’t even register her crying for two hours straight. Since the age of six months she bounces through the system with nobody wanting to keep her longer than two years. They claim she is too smart for them and want somebody to look after her, who can challenge her intellectually.

“Collins took her in one and a half years ago. He got her signed up in several activities after school, like chess and academic decathlon. As of right now she is a junior with an opportunity to graduate next year. Her teachers describe her as incredibly bright with a complicated way of thinking.”

“Complicated way of thinking? Her intelligence was neglected for years, so she gave herself her own challenges. I found her books sorted by the birth year of the authors. She found ways of making things more difficult for herself, that’s why she fabricated strange ways of thinking. This is often found in children with high intelligence, who are not boosted enough by their environment”, Spencer explains, getting more and more furious.

His colleagues feel that this is a sensitive subject for their resident genius. JJ comfortably puts a hand on his shoulder, making the tense go away.

“Emily and Dave, I want both of you to interrogate her. We need to know where he hides the girls. JJ, try to hold the press off for a bit longer. Morgan, Reid, I want you to watch and look for tells or anything else”, Aaron orders.

Everyone works on their given task immediately.

You don’t need to be a profiler to see that (Y/N) is scared out of her mind. She has her feet on her chair and her head lies on her knees. When the two agents enter, she tries to at least fake some kind of composer. But she fails miserably at it.

“Hello (Y/N), may I call you that?” Emily begins in a soft voice. The teenager nods shyly. “Good, (Y/N). My name is Emily Prentiss and this is David Rossi. We are agents from the Behavior Analysis Unit from the FBI. Do you know why you are here?” The teenager shakes her head.

“Ok, let’s cut the chase”, David's voice booms through the small room. “You know exactly why you are here. From what we saw in your room you are an incredibly smart girl. How high is your IQ? 130? 135?”

“147 a-actually”, she nervously corrects the agent, never meeting his eye. The team notices this fairly quickly.

“Even better, normal people don’t know their IQ. So you know what your forster father does. You saw the news, you read the papers, you heard your classmates talk. In addition to that, the girls look alarmingly similar to you. And all of the sudden Charles is more often out than usual. So do us a favor and come clear.” Then he pulls out a picture from a manila folder on the table. Emily tries to intervene.

“Rossi, don’t. She is not the UnSub. (Y/N) is just unfortunate to be at the wrong place.” “She might as well be another UnSub if she doesn’t do anything to help us. Do you know how long you are going to jail for helping hi-”

“I don’t know anything. I- of course I saw what is h-happening. A-and I connected the dots a long time a-ago. You know, Charles lost his job and that’s a stressor. T-then Child Service was investigating him, because of the suspension’s reasons. I-I couldn’t do anything. I had no evidence, the police wouldn’t believe me. I asked him once wh-what he thinks about, you know, what’s happening. He slapped me and told me to not talk about it again. I’m so sorry, I wanna help. The only thing that comes into my mind is an old cabin he once mentioned when I first arrived at his. B-but I don’t know if it helps you. P-please, I don’t want to go to jail or juvenile, I-” Then (Y/N) breaks down into tears.

Emily is in an instant by her side trying to calm her down, while Hotch gives the information to Garcia. As soon as she finds the location, JJ takes a seat next to (Y/N) and the rest of the team flies out.

“You don’t have to be scared of him anymore, Sweetheart. My colleagues will find him and he will be tried and convicted. He will never be a threat to you again”, the blonde tries to comfort her.

“Whenever I leave an abusive home, there will be another one that’s exactly the same. The only difference with Charles was that he seemed to understand me. He helped me. There’s nobody who is willing to do what he did for me”, she admits sadly.

It breaks JJ’s heart, because her words are true. Even though he is a killer, Collins did help her. But she is also determined to show the young girl that he isn’t the only one who can do that. That there are more people out there, who are kind and as helpful if not more.

Not long after this the team brings the man into the station, Morgan guiding him with a deadbolt-like grip.

Rossi spots (Y/N) in a break room with a hot drink in her hands. While making his way over there, Spencer follows him. He wants to talk with her as well.

“(Y/N) I’m sincerely sorry if I hurt you earlier. I didn’t intend to scare you, we just had to act quickly and you were the only source of information available. I also wanted to tell you, that your achievements are astonishing and I guarantee you a bright future, maybe even at the FBI”, he winks at the end of his last sentence.

“I understand, Agent Rossi. But doesn’t everybody know their IQ? I assumed everybody gets at least tested once in their life in some way”, she asks with surprise in her voice.

At that the older man is speechless. Of all things she could accuse him of legitimately, (Y/N) goes with the most innocent question.

“Actually, not everybody gets tested. A reliable test has to be done by a psychologist and most people don’t go to one. Furthermore there has to be a valid reason to do one, that’s why a great part of the population doesn’t know their IQ”, intervenes Spencer. He has to infodump, since the last time was over half an hour ago.

“But you also have to differentiate between the several kinds of intelligence, because intelligence is way more than being good at math. There…”

Rossi stopped listening to the excited interaction between the two geniuses. Instead he watches their body languages and facial expressions. He hasn’t seen both of them more at calm than they are now.

After all there might be a way for (Y/N) to get a little Happy End.

1K notes · View notes

3laxx · 3 years ago

Text

Maternal Feelings

There she was.

Her tiny granddaughter.

She had a bit lighter skin than Luz and just about Amity’s hair color. And she was so damn tiny.

Eda found herself getting scared, suddenly. This was a really small kid. This was like, a stupidly small child. She would not hold that baby for any number of snails.

---

Eda meets her newborn grandddaughter for the first time.

I don't know man I'm just chucking out words rn like I'm running from something.

But I had this thought of Eda meeting a very small child and my stupid brain was like "We can do that instead of sleeping" xD

So yeah, have this incredibly fluffy oneshot about Eda coming to terms with her Momma feelings and adjusting to being a grandma.

I just really wanted Eda to get emotional over a baby

Don't even ask Idk

Have fun reading! <3

Ao3 / FF.net

---

Eda had never been the most maternal.

Not in her youth, not when she had found King, and not when she had sort of adopted and sheltered Luz until she had graduated and been able to stand on her own two feet.

Not when King had taken her name and not when Amity had asked her for Luz’s hand, which had in truth just been a mockery of her parents’ traditions and had given Eda nothing more than an excuse to drink some apple blood with her future daughter-in-law.

Of course, she had seen Luz as a daughter at some point, had called herself her mother, had cared for her.

She had made their meals, had helped Luz with the homework – even if that had disgusted her – she had taught Luz and King everything she knew, she had tucked King in, cared for Luz when she had gotten sick or sad. She had of course done everything in her power to make sure her kids were content and happy.

That didn’t mean she had felt as though she was a mother. She had liked pretending to be the sort of crazy aunt, in charge of all the bad decisions.

But she had never seen herself as maternal.

Well, she supposed that came from not really setting any rules. When she had been younger, she had always been under the impression that mothers had to set rules, educate their children, and raise them. She had never really raised King or Luz.

She had just sort of made them laugh, given them food, and then they hadn’t left anymore. Like the free-loaders they were. Kind of like pests, actually.

It had always made them laugh if she had called them that. It had made her laugh.

Because she loved them, of course. She didn’t know love alone could turn her, the irresponsible, free-spirited wild witch a mother.

She supposed she had been a mother for King and Luz. Without setting rules, without all the raising stuff. She supposed her kids had turned her the littlest bit maternal.

Was it normal for friends to stay up at night and change the cold applications on Luz’s forehead in the hopes of bringing her fever down? Was it called caring and loving when she went out of her way to get King’s favorite toy, to get Luz the food she could actually digest, to make sure King was free of fleas and bathed and tucked in at night?

Did it make her a mother if she risked her own life to ensure they could lead a happy life?

Eda never knew the line between loving, as friends, and maternal.

Raine had started calling her out on her maternal feelings once she got the littlest bit protective of Luz.

Well, it wasn’t her fault that everything made her jump after Belos had almost – had, in fact – killed Luz on the day of unity. It wasn’t her fault that she woke up at night in a cold sweat, rushing to check on her daughter in the room next to hers sleeping peacefully, only to return to a sleepy Raine dazedly grinning at her with a smug, shit-eating expression of “Told you so”.

Every time, they would roll over their mattress in her nest and wrap an arm around her waist and tell her she was such a sweet mother.

Well, she was. She was the Momma of the Owl House.

But maternal?

Eda supposed she was.

After all, even if friends would do the same as her, a mother would make sure everything stayed safe and protected in her house. Making sure there was food on the table that Luz could eat. Making sure King was feeling loved, despite having discovered his past.

Making sure Luz had all her school materials, spending money on icky, stupid books. Giving her an allowance. Keeping her and King safe.

Well, Eda had never really tried finding a definition for maternal. All the love she had gained for King and Luz had just been that to her – love. And it had been enough.

She had loved calling herself Momma and had loved treating Luz like her daughter and King like her son, and she had loved calling them her kids. She just supposed the word itself – maternal – didn’t exactly describe what she was. She, herself, as Eda the Owl Lady, the most powerful witch on the Boiling Isles, an agent of chaos and the most daring criminal history had ever seen.

She had just assumed a mother wouldn’t call herself these titles.

Seemed like her view of a mother had been wrong.

Any person could be a mother, a parent, a father, or anything remotely close to this. And she supposed, caring for Luz and King, taking them in, giving them food, kind of did make her a maternal person, while never losing her pride as a criminal and generally irresponsible person.

A mother.

Well, whatever a mother was, or whatever maternal feelings were, or whatever she defined herself at and whatever she did for Luz and King.

Here she found herself, fidgeting next to her spouse, her excited teenage son in tow who was already towering over her height, in front of the healer’s coven building.

Whatever a mother was, she would probably feel that way. Well, Camila – Luz’s other mother – next to her other side was buzzing in excitement just as much as she was. The two women exchanged a glance before Camila gave her a small smile and she felt Raine taking her hand.

King gave a groan when he finally placed his claws on Eda’s and Camila’s shoulders and pushed them up the three steps into the main entrance, rolling his eyes.

After Belos had been taken down – after he had actually very much killed Luz, Eda had just brought her back to life – Luz and her friends had taken on graduation while the Boiling Isles had experienced a change in the government. Covens were no longer used to steal or limit magic. Instead, they had been used as a way to form a working parliament, with an elected group of government heads. After the gang had graduated, Luz had worked towards getting a way back home while helping establish a stable government form from the makeshift temporary one they had managed to create after Belos’ defeat. Luz had actually helped them quite a bit by telling of experiences made in the human realm, where politics were apparently a lot more twisted than here on the Isles.

Eda and Lilith had been elected as part of the group forming the government, even if Eda had dropped out after one or two periods, while her sister had taken charge like it had been the most natural thing for her.

Discovering that politics hadn’t really been up to her alley – she was way more interested in rebellions than anything else – she had begun building a legal business since she didn’t have to fear being captured anymore. It had gone pretty well.

Raine had started working in the government as well as Amity, while Luz had started working to mastering all forms of glyphs she could find, admitting her studies to the academics, and shortly after, had been offered to become a teacher at Hexside by Bump to teach magicless witches and demons glyph magic.

After traveling the Isles and working on her studies, Luz had accepted and finally settled down with Amity. It really hadn’t been a surprise to Eda when Amity had come to her and Raine with a ring and asked them to marry Eda’s daughter.

After already asking Camila that is.

Eda faintly felt King pushing her into the cool building that smelled like disinfectant – a nifty cleaning drug from the human realm that Luz had introduced them to – before hearing herself asking the receptionist where the room of the Noceda-Blights was.

A kind of bored-looking demon sighed and looked the room number up in the list, before pointing them in the direction. Again, Eda’s feet felt like they had been planted into the tiles below her.

Only after Raine gave her a light push, she moved again.

So, the world now had some sort of order. Nobody was forced into covens anymore, and the coven seals had been removed, setting the magic free again.

Raine and she had married shortly after her daughter had accepted Amity’s proposal, and now, ten years after Luz had first set foot on the Boiling Isles chasing after her book, Eda found herself feeling more maternal than ever. Whatever that meant.

Her hands were fidgety, and not even Raine’s steadying grip could calm her. Camila tried not to look around too much, even after so many years of knowing the Boiling Isles and having visited her daughter regularly, she still wasn’t used to all of it.

Stopping in front of their room, Eda tried breathing through. King sighed again, but Raine shot him a glare and he shut up. At least her spouse understood that this was a big step for her. Looking to her side, Camila tried another smile and Eda nodded at her.

“If you want to, you and King can go ahead. I’ll-… I still need a minute.”

More than willing, Camila accepted. She knocked, and upon hearing Luz’s call, she stepped in. Eda shuffled to the side to let King through, so he could duck through the doorframe and maneuver his broad shoulders in without hitting anything. The door closed and Eda breathed through once more, feeling Raine’s grip tightening.

“How do you feel?”

Shooting them a grin, Eda turned, shrugging and trying to play it cool, “Old, honestly.”

Laughing, Raine pulled her aside to the row of chairs and made her sit down.

“No, I mean, how do you feel about Luz and Amity?”, they tried again and Eda sighed, staring at the blank wooden door with the small eighteen next to it.

“… Proud. I’m proud of them for making this commitment.”, looking back to Raine, she added, “And kind of scared. I haven’t really been the most-… Well, involved.”

Unimpressed, Raine lifted an eyebrow.

“… You’re kidding, right?”

Groaning, Eda shrugged again and leaned back, before closing her eyes, resting her head against the wall.

“I-… I never made the commitment they made. King has his father and Luz has her mother. I was more a friend to them than a mom. Sure, I liked seeing myself that way, and they liked seeing themselves as my kids, but-… It was fun having them. King had always been mostly independent and Luz was already a teenager when I met her. I’ve never-… Well, been around-…”

Raine softly placed their hand on Eda’s hands that she had folded in her lap and when she opened her eyes again, the gaze of her spouse was humored.

“Come on, Eda. How hard can it be to be a not-grandmother?”, at the joke, Eda groaned, “It’s not much different to being a not-mom to your kids.”

Grumbling, she got up again before straightening her back and nodding.

“You know what, you’re right. That kid is family now and whoever the hell cares what a mother or a grandmother is.”

A little confused, Raine got up after her and pumped a fist, albeit half-heartedly.

“That’s the spirit?”, they laughed and Eda huffed, before knocking and getting her own call to be let in.

The room was warm and humid. Eda let in Raine and quickly closed the door after them, not to let too much of the warmth escape, before turning back to her daughter.

Luz looked tired when she approached them.

Well, that wasn’t a surprise, given that she and Amity had arrived in the hospital two days ago before their little daughter had been born just this morning in the earliest hours. She had probably been awake all this time to be there for Amity.

Giving Eda a big hug, she nuzzled her face into the crook of her mother’s neck, before deeply breathing out. Eda could tell that Luz had just overcome a big step for herself.

“… I’m glad you’re here…”, she breathed and Eda wrapped her arms around the now-grown woman, tilting her own head into the embrace. The younger witch snuggled close while Raine squeezed past them to join Camila and King around the crib next to Amity’s bed.

Eda tried so hard not to cry.

This was a happy occasion and she would sure as hell not shed a tear about this. Just when she pressed a little kiss to Luz’s head, a tear rolled into her dark curls as well. Well, there went this promise.

“I’m proud of you, kid.”, she whispered and Luz held her tighter, smiling against her neck, “I’m so, so proud of you. If you ever need some help, I’ll do my damn best to provide.”

Sniffling, Luz nodded, before parting from her.

The exhaustion was evident on her face. She wiped her cheek before Eda placed a hand on her shoulder and caught her gaze. They exchanged a silent smile, then she looked up and around her daughter to her future daughter-in-law on the bed, obviously exhausted as well.

Amity gave a small wave, but it was obvious to see she was under the influence of some strong sedatives. That was the logical thing to do, Eda supposed, to keep her from acting protective over her child while all her family and friends wanted to meet the newest family member.

Witches only carried six months until giving birth, before incubating their pup for another three months. Which was why this room was so damn hot.

But upon giving birth, new mothers would also become a lot more protective of their pups than humans would. Luz had been new to all of this and Eda had had to educate her on the reproduction of witches, because Amity had been too busy laughing. Well, Eda had laughed as well, but not as hard as Luz’s fiancé.

Looking back to her daughter, she finally noticed the bandage she was wearing around one hand. Smirking, she gestured to that.

“Don’t tell me your weak nerd arms gave in.”, she joked and Luz huffed, rubbing the bandage with the healing sticker.

“Amity just had to transform her hand into a damn abomination while in labor. Seriously, who even does that? She sliced my hand right in half.”, grumbling, she looked back to her fiancé and gave her a small smile before looking back to Eda, “I almost missed the birth because the healers had to patch me up first. But there won’t even be a scar because they had my hand reattached just a second after it happened.”

Still grinning, Eda punched her shoulder, then Luz leaned closer to her, lowering her voice.

“Just don’t tell Mami. She’d lose her cool.”

Shaking her head and laughing, Eda walked past her.

“I won’t, don’t worry.”, after making her way around the bed, she sat down on the edge and caught Amity’s dazed gaze, taking her hand after permission, “Hey Minty. How’re you feeling?”

“… ’M good.”, the young witch slurred, trying a small smile, before breathing through and looking to the side where she kept her pup in view, “… Tired.”

Eda nodded, cupping her hand with both of hers, before softly patting the back of her hand.

“Lily will be here this afternoon to look after you two. Your siblings are still in Latissa on Government business, they asked me to tell you because they couldn’t get a hold of you. But they’ll be back tomorrow.”

She could tell that was a lot of information for Amity to process so she made a note to tell Luz as well. Leaving the witch to try and observe the room again – probably to make sure it stayed safe for her pup – she turned to the crib now finally.

There she was.

Her tiny granddaughter.

She had a bit lighter skin than Luz and just about Amity’s hair color. And she was so damn tiny.

Eda found herself getting scared, suddenly. This was a really small kid. This was like, a stupidly small child. She would not hold that baby for any number of snails.

Camila seemed a lot more comfortable around the baby, though. She had respected Luz’s wish to leave her in her crib for the time being, so Amity could get used to so many people around her pup so suddenly, but she was already reaching in and brushing the tiny thing over her cheek.

Well, okay, that seemed easy enough. Eda could do that, someday, when the kid was like twelve or something.

King and Luz were talking about something while Raine looked just about as amazed by the small creature as Camila was.

Sensing their amazement and figuring that Raine didn’t exactly have that much experience with children, either, Camila took the hand of Eda’s spouse and guided them down into the crib, brushing their knuckles against the incredibly soft skin of the baby’s cheek.

Amity didn’t even flinch at that. Either the sedatives were really strong or she felt incredibly comfortable with the people in the room. Looking back to the young witch, Eda confirmed the latter. Through half-lidded eyes, Amity was leaning back against the pillow, her other hand that was not held by Eda draped across her belly, while she was calmly watching Camila guiding Raine’s hand against the infant’s cheek.

She wondered how much Amity had actually adopted Luz’s family as her own once her parents had been imprisoned for their crimes against the public.

Judging by her calm reaction, she didn’t mind them being around her and her loved ones in the slightest, even in the now starting incubation period. Finally, Luz leaned around King and reached into the crib to lift her little daughter up and cradling her close to her chest. The baby didn’t even wake up, which made Eda chuckle.

“She’s got your sleeping habits, kid.”

Amity’s hand in hers shook when she started laughing alongside the older witch and Luz flushed in deep red when her mother confirmed.

“Sometimes, not even me shaking her would wake her up to school.”, Camila added and Luz huffed, bopping the infant in her arms.

“You guys are being mean to me in front of my daughter.”, she tried pouting, but King deadpanned.

“In front of your sleeping daughter. She won’t hear any of this.”

They started laughing again while Luz couldn’t suppress a little smile herself while looking down at the infant. When they had all quieted down a little, Luz pressed a soft kiss to her daughter’s forehead, before approaching Camila. Shooting a gaze towards Amity first to ask her permission, she then placed the baby in her mother’s arms and kept her hand cupped on the baby’s head, smiling.

“That’s your abuelita, mija.”, Luz mumbled softly and Eda almost felt her own heart breaking with the light sniffle Camila gave. After all these years of calling Luz her mija, Luz starting to use that label for her own daughter now made the human tear up.

While Camila greeted the little pup, Eda turned back to Amity whose head was softly nicking every time her eyelids fell. She had to be exhausted.

Tugging on her hand, Eda got her attention, then she lightly pushed the crib away to get up and adjust Amity’s pillow for her.

“C’mon, let’s get you lying down. We’ll take care of your pup.”

A sleepy gaze crossed with Eda’s but before Amity could object, the older witch was already adjusting the settings of the mattress to be flat again, before helping Amity lie down on her side.

“You can stay awake for as long as you want, but you should be comfortable with it at least.”, shooting her a grateful gaze, the younger witch yawned, then she adjusted the blanket around her future daughter-in-law and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, “Don’t worry about your pup, okay? Luz is taking care of her.”

That seemed to soothe Amity. She mumbled a soft “thank you” towards Eda and curled up a little, before continuing to watch the scene before her, the blinking of her eyelids already getting slower.

When Eda turned back to Camila, she discovered that Luz had taken her daughter back already and was safely cradling her before going around the crib and catching Eda’s gaze.

She knew that Luz wanted her to say hi, too.

“Luz, I’m not so sure about holding-”

Chuckling, her daughter adjusted the baby, before taking Eda’s hand.

“You can greet them like this first if you don’t wanna hold her. Or you can sit down if you like.”

Huffing, Eda fidgeted shortly, before rubbing her hands together and breathing through.

“Just, uh-… Sitting would be nice. I’m-… Holding the bat kids was an entirely different thing, you know? They could fly. Your kid can’t fly.”

Luz had to laugh at Eda’s rambling, pulling on her hand, she ushered King out of the chair by the window, before letting her adoptive mother sit down in it. Camila helped out by placing a pillow on Eda’s lap, then she was all set. Luz studied her face again.

“If you’re too nervous, you don’t have to hold her. I can hold her over your lap if you want to.”

Trying to wave her off, Eda forced a laugh.

“Pfft, you can just say you don’t trust me holding a baby, kid.”, she tried to joke around, but Luz just gave her a smile.

“If you feel uncomfortable, you don’t have to. That’s all I’m saying.”

But Eda wanted to. She definitely did kind of want to hold the tiny fragile baby that Luz had made together with her fiancé. Even if she was nervous and a little bit scared and so amazed by how small such a tiny thing could actually be, she did kind of want to hold that baby. Patting the pillow, she finally breathed through, then she opened her arms.

“Okay, I’m ready. Bring it, kid.”

Smirking at her antics, Luz leaned in and kneeled, then she slowly placed the baby in Eda’s arms. It was so tiny. It was so stupidly tiny, it wasn’t even as long as Eda’s forearm. Hiccupping, the older witch instinctively cradled the tiny, tiny infant in her arms and a warm feeling overcame her.

A really warm feeling.

If that was maternal feelings, then Eda swore she was going to be the best dang grandmother she could be for that child.

She brushed over her temple and the baby squirmed slightly. Apparently, she had woken up sometime during Camila holding her and was now kind of fighting against the snug swaddle blanket she was trapped in. Eda didn’t even notice she had tears in her eyes when she already felt the first tear rolling down her cheek.

“Wow… You’re my granddaughter now, hm?”, she asked and that tiny thing yawned, her arms struggling in the swaddle, before softly smacking her incredibly small lips. Eda found herself smiling immediately, “Titan, that’s new.”

Luz’s hands undid the blanket that was wrapped around the baby, then Eda laughed tearily when the infant stretched, her absolutely tiny fists stretching up to her face and rubbing her cheeks. She was apparently waking up and while she knew that incubating infants didn’t open their eyes yet, she found herself wondering what eye color the child would have. Adjusting the baby, she cradled them closer, then she smuggled a finger into the fist and giggled in delight when the baby grabbed it, despite not wanting to open the fist at first.

Looking up to Luz, who was still kneeling in front of her, she managed a smile, her teary expression probably matching the one on her daughter’s face.

“She’s perfect, Luz. But, let’s be honest, you two made a stupidly small baby.”

Laughing under tears, Luz nodded then she brushed over her daughter’s head and pressed a small kiss to her forehead to which the baby responded with a huff.

“Yeah, when I first held her, I was so scared she’d just slip right through my arms. But I think Amity would have killed me if I had so much as stumbled so I concentrated really hard not to let that happen.”

Eda’s gaze shot up from her granddaughter to her future daughter-in-law who was calling from the bed, her words slurred from the sedatives and sleepiness, but still very much poised if needed.

“… You better not drop our child, Luz.”

Raine had to laugh at that and went to soothe the new mother, while Eda turned back to the baby in her arms with a smile.

“Titan she’s small…”

The following few minutes were pretty much filled with tearful giggles and a very excited King who almost knocked the crib over when Luz called him to say hi as well. When Eda and King had calmed down a little, Camila had taken Luz outside for a little mother-daughter walk in the nearby park and King had gone with them for snacks. The older witch got up and carried the baby back to the crib, smiling when she lifted them up to her face. Resting her forehead against theirs, she kept like this for a moment, before stopping in front of the crib.

Amity had fallen asleep by now, even if she was flinching with every littlest sound her daughter made, so Eda looked over to Raine.

“Wanna hold the baby, too?”, she asked and Raine blushed.

“I’d-… I’d rather wait until she’s a little bit older.”, she admitted and Eda nodded before still gesturing her spouse over. Raine got up from the edge of Amity’s bed and joined Eda, putting an arm around her waist while Eda still cradled the baby close, taking care not to jostle her too much.

She yawned again and from the corner of her eyes, Eda saw Amity’s eyes opening, unfocused and probably very much still asleep but still attentive to her daughter. Chuckling, she turned back to Raine.

“Boy, I’m sure glad I only had two adoptive children.”

Shrugging, Raine caught the baby’s fist with their free hand and tickled their tiny fingers, but she wouldn’t open her hand this time.

“I’m sure you would’ve made a great biological mother as well. As you’re already a great adoptive mother, too.”

Shrugging, Eda brushed over her temple again, leaning into Raine.

“Nah, I’m glad I never had a baby. I don’t think I would’ve wanted to go through that.”

“Fair enough.”, Raine whispered, but their tone indicated that they had stopped listening to Eda, engrossed by the child in her arms. She softly kicked, which caused them to chuckle, before she settled back against Eda’s chest, curling in slightly and breathing through, apparently getting ready for her next nap. Raine sighed softly.

“Honestly, I’m glad I never had a baby, too. But having a grandchild is amazing.”

Grinning, Eda kissed their forehead, before carefully maneuvering the baby back into the crib and swaddling them the best she could, watching her breaths deepening and calming as she fell asleep again. Then, Eda pushed the crib next to Amity’s bed, to which the young witch immediately responded by reaching into the crib from the side and resting her hand on her daughter’s belly. Smiling, Eda took Raine into her arms and watched as both her future daughter-in-law and her granddaughter slept peacefully, leaning her head against Raine’s.

“… You’re right this is amazing.”

She already knew that this child would have the two best mothers she could ask for. And she knew that her entire family, including her furry uncle, three grandmothers, and one grandparent, and their twin uncle and aunt would do their damn best to make sure this child had everything she needed.

Smiling, Eda reached down to brush over the baby’s cheek and pulled Raine closer.

Maternal feelings or not, this was amazing.

---

Let me know if you liked it!

149 notes · View notes

strvngemagic · 2 years ago

Photo

{ cis man, he/him } ❝ i can resist everything, except temptation. ❞ huh, who’s HANSOL “VERNON” CHWE? no, you’re mistaken, that’s actually SCORPIUS MALFOY. he always reminds me of the song THE CULT OF DIONYSUS BY THE ORION EXPERIENCE and THE MARC JACOBS’ 2015 GLOSS PARTY DRESS CODE, TALKING WITH YOUR HANDS, WIPING GLITTER FROM THE BATHROOM SINK, WRAPPING YOURSELF IN A WARM DUVET, DRINKING WINE WITH LUNCH. i hear he is aligned with the ORDER OF THE PHOENIX, so be sure to keep an eye on him.

character inspiration: oscar wilde, david rose (schitt’s creek), keeley jones (ted lasso), tahani al-jamil (the good place), david bowie, richie rich, freddie mercury, lito rodriguez (sense8), glam rock. ------------------------------------------------------ tw for alcoholism/addiction under the cut.

BASICS

name: scorpius han-wool (한울) malfoy

nickname: absolutely detests nicknames. it’s scorpius or nothing.

age: twenty-three

sexual / romantic orientation: pansexual / panromantic

former house: ravenclaw

affiliation: the order of the phoenix

occupation: culture writer/reporter for teen wix weekly, essayist, published author

family: draco malfoy (father), astoria greengrass (mother, deceased), daphne greengrass (maternal aunt), remy greengrass (maternal cousin)

PHYSICAL

hair: (dyed) blonde

eyes: brown

height: 5′11

notable characteristics: clear, often glowing skin, meticulously styled hair. often wears very colorful clothing in stylish cuts and silhouettes. loves a good sparkle or shine via embroidery or stones. consistently wears multiple rings on both hands, and diamond stud earrings in both ears.

MAGICAL

wand: willow, unicorn hair, ten inches, bendy

patronus: swan

boggart: himself, deep in the throes of alcoholism / addiction

amortentia: clean sheets, crisp mountain air in winter, apple blossom candles, yuzu jam

magical strengths: charms, transfiguration, astronomy, alchemy, history of magic.

magical weaknesses: potions, care of magical creatures, herbology

PERSONALITY

oh, my darling boy. my perfect lad. my sweet meow meow.

scorpius has draco’s penchant for drama (ie. falling to pieces whenever he so much as gets a scratch or sniffle, loudly protesting against doing anything unpleasant, being loud and obnoxious to get people’s attention) but very little of his childhood politics. he’s spoiled beyond belief, wants to be the center of attention, and name-drops like nobody’s business, but that’s because he’s an aesthete with taste, thank you, not a schoolyard bully.

he writes monthly articles for teen wix weekly, an offshoot of witch weekly, which i would say is analogous with teen vogue in terms of its combination of leftist political leanings and fashion/lifestyle. his writing is acerbic, witty, and highly opinionated. he’s also published a book of humorous personal essays and observations, titled ‘lessons in bad faith: how i became the family disappointment’. lucius doesn’t talk to him at sunday dinners anymore.

boy’s got an issue with partying - it comes from a childhood of being raised away from pureblood peers since his mother didn’t want those negative influences around him, away from any other magical families because of all the bridges draco burned in school, and away from muggle children because while his parents didn’t profess hatred towards non-magical folks, their world was still strange and unfamiliar. so he grew up alone, and deeply lonely, and once he hit hogwarts + adulthood has been chasing the feelings of friendship and being wanted ever since. that, coupled with his life of financial excess and overindulgence has led to something of an alcohol dependence. but it’s fine, really.

despite what some may think of his flamboyance and penchant for fine clothes, he is attracted to and dates people from across the gender and sexuality spectrum. he loves to be loved! what i cannot stress enough though is that the boy is a bottom.

mama’s boy. misses her like mad all the time; likes to keep one of her rings on a chain around his neck.

loves his dad, but often feels like they live on two different planets. totally doesn’t have a complex about wanting to make him proud.

ravenclaw!!! while scorpius strives for perfection and is fairly ambitious in that sense, he doesn’t desire to be the best in everything and doesn’t necessarily aspire to control + power, merely wants to be universally beloved for his talents. ie. - hates trying new things and being bad at them. first time draco put him on a broom he crashed into a tree. threw a fit during 1st year flying lessons and got himself excused.

thinks quidditch is a right bore because the players’ uniforms ought to be shorts and a crop top

has perfected the art of shit-talking to the point where you might not even realize he’s insulting you to your face

will send his order back to the kitchen if it’s wrong

favorite pasttime is wrapping himself in a giant duvet and eating cadbury creme eggs

BIO

coming soon to a theater near you!

#potter intro #* ' scorpius.#.oh boy oh boy oh boy fellas!!!!

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moonbaby26 · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Rare Company

Pairing: Loki x Goddess!Reader

Summary: Story set nearer the Viking Age. You were a Greek sea goddess who crossed paths with the god of mischief. Continuation from previous chapter. Several days after your initial meeting, Loki returns allowing some unexpected time together. And spurring you to wonder what could become of this, as well as trying to address what your own feelings might be for this new god.

Warnings: None, just fluff this chapter.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @rosaline-black , @lawfeys

My Masterlist

——————————

Things had fallen back into routine after a while. Even if you still caught yourself daydreaming from time to time. You had imagined working up the nerve to ask your father for permission to visit Asgard. No one from your family had in ages from all you could tell, and what an act of diplomacy that could be.

Instead of roaming far and wide as you normally would, you had more kept to these southern seas as well. That little voice inside you wondering if Loki would return. The forest nymphs had delivered word to your sea nymphs that he had departed back through what you now knew as the bifrost the very same day you had met him.

He’d only lingered a couple more hours they’d said, seemingly in thought within the forest before he’d called out for the bridge to reopen and had disappeared the same strange way he’d come.

You had taken the form of a dolphin today, idly swimming around the fishing boats you’d come upon in open water. They should know you symbolized luck. And if they seemed grateful, you’d gladly chase more fish into their nets in your boredom.

But it was then that another group of dolphins appeared, though you recognized them instantly for the nymphs that they were.

Excitedly they darted around you.

“He’s back, that prince of Asgard! And he calls for you, milady!”

The shock had been immense. You really hadn’t known if he would return. But you’d hoped, hadn’t you? And now he was actually asking for you by name.

Of course you must go to him. You were a goddess of your word after all.

———————————

And he was at the same beach you’d been on the first day he’d appeared. Through father’s magic, you could travel the hidden currents of the deep ocean, being wherever you needed to be within minutes rather than hours or the days that it would have taken mortals.

You swam slower though as you neared the shore, still underwater as you’d taken your spear from one of the nymphs once more. He was still a stranger to you after all. Though maybe that would change? It was hard to say why he really would have returned again.

There was a nervousness that was so foreign to you as you finally swam shallow enough to stand up and begin to walk from the waters. The gills on your neck that only opened when you were under for any real length of time, now dissolved back into smooth skin as the dry air reached you.

Your dress clung to your wet body as well, far more sheer in the sunlight, and for a moment you wondered if Asgardian culture was more modest in the view of their own bodies or not. You couldn’t remember reading about that.

Hopefully he would not think it obscene. But as you made eye contact with him, you really could read nothing in his gaze. Only his body language looked impatient as he sat in the weak shade of a tree long gnarled by the ocean’s winds.

You bowed lightly in greeting as you stopped before him, even though you still held your spear upright in one hand. “Prince Loki of Asgard, I am pleased to see you again.”

You did notice that fleeting look through his eyes at that, as if he was once again trying to decide your sincerity.

“You think me a fool, don’t you?” Was what he finally said though. Not quite as cutting in tone as the other day however, but still very guarded.

You straightened at the accusation, though curious to his point.

But he continued before you could respond. “You are no minor goddess, (Y/N) of the sea,” He repeated, seeming to mock your wording from your last meeting. “I read more on your kind once I returned to Asgard. Care to introduce yourself with less deception this time?”

You smiled before you could help yourself. So you were the deceptive one? When the very first time you’d ever laid eyes on him, it had only been a false image. What a strange choice of words.

But had he really done the same thing you had then? Gone home and studied you? Was he annoyed that there would be any subject he knew so little about? You wanted to know if your own studying had been enough though, as this time you answered him in the language of the Asgardians, or what you hoped was at least close enough to be intelligible.

“I did not lie to you. I am the daughter of the sea. Because my father is the sea...Poseidon, king of the sea, and god of the oceans, earthquakes, storms, and horses.” Which yes, made you a princess you supposed, niece of Zeus, and sibling and cousin to so many others in the pantheon of gods and goddesses that was the Olympus royal family.

His eyebrows raised a little as his own language came off your tongue. But you could see it would still take far more for him to really show himself impressed even as a slight smirk did cross his face for the very first time. “Your intonation still needs much work, goddess. We can keep to Greek for now.”

True, beginning to learn a new language just through the written word was far different than actually hearing it spoken. “I haven’t had much time to study since you first came.” You smiled back. “I did try.”

“Clearly.” He answered, though still seeming to be just the slightest amused you thought.

“So is that the only reason you have returned? To chide me for not announcing myself a king’s daughter?” You asked, but trying not to sound as curious as you truly were.

He did pause a moment, but you were realizing that seldom did he find himself without quick words. “Partly I suppose.” He responded. “But you also said that I was now a guest here. Unless that hospitality has been revoked, I am choosing to take more time from Asgard in a place where I will not be bothered.”

So he still was mostly wanting solitude after all then? Though slightly disappointing, you knew it was something you could well understand. You wondered if his family could be as chaotic as your own. “This is a good place for it then. To not be bothered I mean. And yes, I stand by my offer of your being a guest here.”

After waiting this many days you really would have preferred to be in his presence more than a few moments. But it would be rude to impose yourself as well. “I will leave you to yourself then.” You spoke, already resigning your own self to likely the rest of the day alone as a shark or a dolphin. Well, maybe something that could dive even deeper. You now felt like going lay in a trench somewhere actually.

“Wait.”

The call back surprised you, even as it had sounded more like a command, pausing your rising disappointment as you glanced back over your shoulder.

“I had actually intended just to read today. But as you evidently have been reading at times as well, unlike so many others I know-” There seemed to be quite a bit of resentment to whomever he was referring to there, “I could be inclined to return to Asgard briefly and fetch some books from our library for you as well if you would like to read with me.”

You stared at the abrupt invitation. Did he really mean for you to sit with him, reading together then? So he was not entirely averse to your presence any longer?

Your silent stare only had him keep talking as if he thought he might need to further persuade you though. “I am sure you would get a far more accurate representation of Asgardian culture and history from our own authors, rather than whatever it was you had clumsily dug up here.”

The air of superiority had returned to his tone as he’d mentioned their writers of course, but he was likely right. If you wanted to read about Asgard, what better source than from the Asgardians themselves?

“I would appreciate that very much,” You said truthfully, albeit still with some surprise.

“Then it is done.” He said decisively, then standing to walk back to the forest.

“Loki,” you called before you could stop yourself though. You also realized it was the first time you had said his name this informally. You paused, unsure if this was something he generally allowed or not.

But when he looked back at you, you saw no anger in his eyes. He looked a little caught off guard himself, but only for the briefest moment.

“I...” You tried to not lose your nerve. “May I follow you? Not to Asgard of course,” You clarified quickly. There were far too many protocols that could be broken there, “But close enough to see the bifrost open? I’ve never seen it.”

He hesitated to consider your request. You supposed any good steward of their kingdom would. But even if you were trying some attempt at subterfuge and intended to force your way to Asgard, what threat could a single Olympian really pose? Especially only a water goddess at that.

He must have agreed you were no real threat either as he finally nodded, motioning for you to follow him.

And once you had reached that clearing again, this time you were close enough to see the symbols his last entrances had cut into the ground. Such a unique way to travel you thought.

But you were smart enough to still keep your distance as you did back back away as you saw him look to the sky.

“Heimdall!” He called. “Open the bifrost, I need to return!” He said in his own language.

For a moment nothing happened, but then the birds began to fly as the trees shook in the growing wind. You could just see the sky, a swirl of clouds beginning before a light as bright as any of Zeus’ lightning bolts erupted down with that boom you had heard before. Loki disappeared into the light, the wind whipping all around you before the bifrost vanished back into those clouds just as suddenly and there was silence again.

“Amazing,” you breathed, just to yourself and any still lingering animals that may have heard you.

—————————-

It felt like far longer than it really was you were sure. Your anticipation just stretching out the minutes as you’d waited for his return.

But when he did come back, in all the same dramatics as his exit with the bifrost opening, then closing to leave him there again in the clearing, he now had a satchel of several books.

You assumed Asgard may be a good deal cooler in temperature than your sandy beaches for as much of him that was covered in clothing. So you tried to help find the best shade that you could, and with an unblocked pass for the cool ocean breeze as you sat together beneath more trees.

“I’ve put a spell on these to make them waterproof,” He commented, “Though do still take care, some of these are from Father’s personal collection.”

“That’s practical,” You admitted, not at all offended, but awed really that he would bring such rare items for your viewing.

It was a bit of a slow go for you though, everything being written in the Asgardian language. But you were happy to find that you could understand enough with some effort, and that the gist of the stories and the histories being told were still coming across to you.

You weren’t sure how many hours the two of you sat that way. Every now and again you could see one of the sea nymphs peeking out from where the waves were breaking, keeping a curious eye on the two of you.

Eventually it was him that finally closed the last book he had been working through though. “I suppose I should return.” He said.

You were gentle with the book you still had, closing it as well as you handed it back to him. You felt as if you should say something more, but a simple, “Thank you,” was all that really came to mind in this moment.

He quieted though, looking out to the sun, now low over the darkening ocean. “It is not as fully terrible here in Midgard as I first assumed.”

You chuckled, how often would he make a habit of these insults? “I suppose any place can have its good qualities.”

But you badly wanted to ask him what had brought him here in the first place then. If he was to come to the mortal realm, wouldn’t it have made more sense to stay to the north where he was already legend? Why come here to the lands of the Olympians?

“You do have a way of staring through a person when you’re curious about something. You realize this don’t you?” He asked you in return though, just observing your features then.

You blinked, genuinely wondering if he possessed telepathy and you hadn’t known it.

“You’re looking at me in the same way as when you wanted to see the bifrost. So what do you wish to know of Asgard that could not be found in those books?”

You hesitated. He was still a god after all, and you knew how fickle they could be. You didn’t wish to anger him with your nosiness, but it would also be rude to ignore such a direct question.

“Well...I’m wondering why you came to our land to begin with. No Asgardians have set foot here in many ages from what I can discern. Why would you be so different?”

“You think me different?” He responded immediately though. Concerning you actually, before he scoffed, “Then you are intelligent. I am nothing like those I came here to seek relief from. My fool brother and his equally boorish companions.”

“Thor?” You asked innocently enough.

But the look he gave you as that name came off your lips would have been far answer enough before it became the key that opened the gates.

“He has been completely insufferable since Father bequeathed him Mjolnir!” You could see Loki’s jaw tightening slightly, the frustrated expression growing and so similar to that angered one you remembered on his illusion’s face that first day in the clearing, when it’d been pacing and cursing.

“Is that what happened recently?” You asked reflexively, but still believing that you already had the answer.

“Oh, he’s been using the hammer for years of course. Yet it always belonged to Asgard, not him. A relic of our realm. But now it is truly his per Father’s public declaration. Thor’s hammer,” He mocked, “Worthy to the one who will one day succeed Odin to take the throne. Father has now cast Thor as his official heir in our people’s eyes with this blunder.”

You remained quiet to digest the information he was providing you. So Loki felt slighted, no disgusted actually to learn the throne was seemingly all but promised to his brother now. So had he really already had that high of expectations for it?

“I guess Asgard and Olympus aren’t so different after all,” You finally mused, though trying to keep your tone even rather than sounding patronizing. “I mean, Zeus, Hades, and Poseidon. Our three kings, they overthrew their father Cronus and locked him in Tartarus to claim rule. Admittedly Cronus had eaten Hades, Poseidon, and their other siblings previously though.”

Loki stared at you and you just smiled oddly then. “My family has not always been on the best terms with each other either.”

“Your grandfather ate your father?” Loki asked as if to reaffirm the insanity he’d just heard. “I thought that was just a myth.”

“No, father has the scars still,” You admitted. “Cronus devoured his children as he didn’t want anyone to succeed him. But my grandmother Rhea, she hid Zeus away when he was born. And Zeus forced Cronus to regurgitate the others later.”

“Ugh,” Loki said, making a face.

You laughed, glad you seemed to at least get his mind off of Thor for the moment. “That all happened ages before I was born though. Luckily it’s now more frowned upon to treat your children in such a manner. Those were the old ways.”

“And you do have many siblings don’t you?” He questioned. “I read the Olympians were quite, how should I say, prolific in their child bearing.”

“Truth I’m afraid. Which is why I like to keep to the seas rather than Father’s palace or Mount Olympus. At least you only have one Thor, rather than a dozen.”

“Gods,” Loki spoke, the evident horror in that thought too much to contemplate seriously.

But you were just smiling again, realizing how much the ice had finally been broken to even be having this type of conversation right now. You were honestly enjoying the back and forth. It would be a shame to not do this again sometime.

And you had to try and convey that, at least somewhat if you could. You didn’t know how many other chances you would have. “Before you go...I did mean it, Loki, when I said you were welcome as a guest here. You can always come back when you need a little hideaway from whatever transpires to irk you in Asgard.”

He stared at you again then. It troubled you though of how little you seemed to be able read him at times. As if he could just cast a curtain between you whenever he wished.

“Perhaps I just may.” Loki said at last though with little emotion, then finally standing now and collecting his satchel of books.

It was only then that you really realized how dark it had already gotten with the sun now setting. And you caught yourself admiring him a little in the red and purple hues now coming from the sky. He really was so different than the gods you’d known before. Should you say something more?

As you stood as well, picking your spear back up from the sands, you saw several nymphs quickly sink back down into the surf, pretending as if they were not also very interested in how else you may say goodbye to him.

“You must not often entertain guests,” Loki spoke though, evidently having noticed your audience as well even as he began to walk away from you.

“Not men,” You answered honestly, though pausing as you realized how that really sounded. You continued though, not sure if you were making things sound worse or better. “Mostly we stay at sea. And I have no interest in unwashed sailors.”

But he stopped at that before entering the forest. He posed such a simple question to you then, although one that could mean so much more. “Yet you have interest in me?”

You felt as if you’d been hit in the chest at his words. Said quietly even as you saw his blue eyes on you once more, analyzing...waiting.

But how could one word have so many meanings? Interest as in he was just a curiosity, a strange foreigner to study like some new sea creature you had found? Or interest like a friend, to read together and talk and vent on the very particular family aspects you shared just as you’d done today?

Or...and this was surely the most disconcerting of all, interest as in how he could feel if you were allowed to touch him? How he would taste if you could kiss him? Your kind took lovers frequently. That should be no secret to him or anyone else. But just because other gods and goddesses of Olympus bedded one another left and right, it didn’t mean you did.

But did he you wondered? Did he have his choice of consorts at his palace, a full court always vying for his attentions to try and pull themselves further up the social ladder via way of his bed? Surely he would, wouldn’t he?

Yet your hesitation in answering was enough to indict you of your own desires you feared. Surely if he meant little, that would have been an easy response. To think on it this long, just made your confession for you didn’t it?

You took a breath, trying to remind yourself that you should fear no man. On a whim you could transform into a great shark and consume any prey, you could move the waters themselves, wreck ships, destroy harbors should you truly wish to. These were the gifts given to you from your father.

You were a goddess after all, not just an enamored young woman. And all you could do was speak the truth. “I do have interest in you, Loki.” You finally answered. “But to what path that will take is highly dependent on your own desires I’m sure. I know nothing of Asgardian preferences when it comes to choosing who to court, if at all.”

He had only been looking at you before, but now turned to fully face you. Unlike yourself, it seemed he had no problem in finding words though. “Your beauty is not something rare in Asgard, that is true.” He said, yet continuing before you could feel that as too harsh a barb, “But your mind, your ability, and even your desire to learn of what is outside your own world, that may be something wholly more compelling.”

Yet this didn’t sound like something that should be considered rare to you, or enough to set you apart at all you thought. And he seemed to read this disbelief clearly on your face as he then admonished you for it.

“You think I exaggerate? That even one of those vapid headed children could sit still for more than an hour without having to go break something or fight someone to prove their worth? Or that any other would sit here with me as you have done today and it not be just farce to try and get closer to my brother or to get in Odin’s favor?”

So you had been right on one thing at least. The Asgardian court did have its share of social climbers then. Maybe in this you could finally see some weight to his words. Because what did you care of such things? Your father was already a king. You did not need to seduce a prince to find anything in your life that you could not have by birthright already.

But if this was his way of admitting he at least approved of your company, it still didn’t clarify as to what all he really wanted from you.

“Well, I still leave the decision as yours. You know how to find me should you be willing to see me again. If you bring books, I will read with you. If you only want an ear to listen, I will do so. And if you desire for more...we can address that as we come to it.” You said, in what you hoped was a mature sounding way to deal with these burgeoning feelings.

“Very well.” He answered too simply though. And you were sure you saw some enjoyment in his eyes as your expression showed you were left a bit unsatisfied by that. “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

And it was night by then, the fresh stars now fully surpassing the light from the fading sun. You stayed on the beach this time though, watching him disappear into the wooded hillside.

In not too much time, you then heard the boom that signaled the bifrost’s open and close and you knew that he was gone.

————————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

#loki x you #loki x reader #loki x original female character #loki x oc #loki x y/n #loki #loki odison x reader #loki layfeyson x reader #loki layfeyson imagine #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki fanfic #loki fluff #loki fandom #loki imagine

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amiedala · 3 years ago

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SOMETHING DEEPER (a mandalorian story)

CHAPTER 1: There's Always Three Things

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: sexual content, hints of voyeurism

SUMMARY: HELLLOOOOOOOOOOO AND HAPPY SOMETHING DEEPER SATURDAY MY LOVES!!! this is the first chapter in Something Deeper, the

second installment in the Something More series. in this one, Nova is her established character, they're still trying to save the galaxy, and the spice is racketed up even hotter ;) more notes at the end, as always, and until then, ENJOY!!!

If you're a newcomer, my fic "Something More" is the first installment of this story! <3

AUTHOR’S NOTE: HELLO MY LOVES HAPPY SOMETHING MORE SATURDAY!!!! this chapter is quite the whirlwind, i hope you love it! more notes at the end as always <3

Novalise Djarin is absolutely certain of three things. One, that the strongest thing in this galaxy is the green alien baby she calls her son; two, that her gorgeous, commanding bounty hunter husband is an excellent leader but a fantastically horrible diplomat; and three, that she is by far the most skilled person she knows at getting out of a particularly sticky situation.

Nova is excellent at getting out of things, period—her husband would argue that she’s an expert at getting the both of them out of their clothes and Mandalorian armor, respectively—but she excels at somehow, miraculously, wriggling herself free from between a rock and a hard place. And, right now, the asteroid belt that makes up Polis Massa is the abundance of rock, and the TIE fighters right on the tail of Kicker’s infamously sporadic power is the hard place.

They’re relentless. Nova squints her eyes, making the starry backdrop of the Outer Rim split and fractal into a thousand more glittering balls of light. There’s only three of them, this time, but this is the closest they’ve ever dared to follow her to Mandalore, and there’s something dangerous and electric kicking around somewhere inside of her chest. They keep shooting, jarring bolts of blasts that do their best to try and knock down Kicker’s very stubborn shields.

“Stupid,” Nova whispers, her breath low, the ghost of a smile stretching across her face, even in the crush of space. A year ago, she wouldn’t have recognized herself—this fearless, feisty pilot, the fully-formed reconstruction of the girl she used to be. On the ground, even with the Force on her side, she’s clumsy, an amateur. But up here? This is where Novalise shines. She has the upper hand out in the stars, and, besides, even if she were being chased by an artillery of a hundred more, there’s reinforcements on her old, lovable beater of a starship.

“Surrender,” one of the mechanical, ordered voices comes over the comm, and Nova giggles to herself in the darkness.

“Does that ever work?” she asks, flipping the right switches to make Kicker drop down and over itself, sending one of the fighters careening into the nearest asteroid. It doesn’t deter whoever’s in the cockpit for long, but it’s enough to utilize her infamous barrel roll to twist up and away from the other two fighters close in tow. “You know, asking impolitely for whoever you’re chasing to surrender?”

Silence. Nova smiles again, biting her teeth down against the fullness of her bottom lip. Her stomach grumbles. It was a sleepless night and a long day she spent back on Hoth before making the short trek back home—Mandalore, which isn’t the kindest of planets to call your own but is undoubtably better than some of the other alternatives—and the broth-based soups and dried legumes that frequent the base there are not nearly as filling or delicious as the feasts that being Mandalorian royalty entail. Still nothing from the other fighters, which is perfectly fine, because she’s about to feign dropping into warp and leading through a wormhole that’ll lead nowhere but the barrenness of the Mid Rim, but usually, they’re much more demanding.

“Surrender,” comes the voice again, and Nova sighs, cracking her neck, readjusting the familiar, worn helmet still stamped with the orange Rebel insignia. Kicker beeps angrily, and she lends a soft hand to the worn metal of her beloved ship’s dashboard, coaxing the metal to just go a tiny bit further.

“I’m just saying, you might have a stroke more of luck if you’re a little bit nicer. Less demanding, more asking. Who am I surrendering to?” she asks, and even though the TIE fighters are still volleying an array of blasts at the back end of the starfighter, they’re not quick to identify themselves. Nova squints again, catching a glimpse of one of them as she swoops to avoid a larger chunk of asteroid. It was stupid to come here, she admits internally to herself, even though it makes her heart drop a tiny bit inside of her chest. All she wanted for the hours she spent on Hoth was to get back to Din, to hold Grogu against her heartbeat for as long as she could before she reluctantly had to relinquish him to the one and only Luke Skywalker, but when Wedge called, it seemed urgent. “Hello?” she whispers, only to dare the strange, affected voice on the commlink to rattle back across the stars.

“Andromeda Maluev,” the comm blurts, and the sound of her name—her birth name, still heavy and pearlescent with the weight of losing her parents—makes Nova’s heart drop even further. Everyone left in this galaxy that Nova associates with—Din Djarin, Luke Skywalker, Wedge Antilles, Bo-Katan Kryze, Boba Fett, Cara Dune, Greef Karga, and every person she met along her trip with Din through the galaxy and back—knows that Andromeda Maluev is dead, and that Novalise Djarin rose from her ashes. But every single bounty Nova’s had on her head has slammed that full weight of her first identity back into her bones, like a brand, like something she can’t escape. It makes the force of people after her—the shadowy legion of the obscured First Order, and all of their cronies—feel just a bit more insidious.

“Not my name,” she volleys back, but the brace in Nova’s voice doesn’t sound like anything dangerous, anything sharp enough scare them off. “I’ve ran into enough of you by now for you to get it right.”

“We’ve got you surrounded. Surrender or be killed.”

Nova snorts. There’s three fighters on her tail, and they’re nowhere close to surrounding her. It’s so ludicrous, so unexpected, that the laugh catapults out of her mouth and echoes in the small hull of Kicker. She wishes Din and Grogu were here to equally share in her utter disbelief—she can practically see the helmet cocking and the baby’s giant, intuitive eyes crinkling—but she dodges another set of shots, which are almost completely aimless and hardly land on the tail end of the ship. “Be killed?” she repeats, swerving and ducking through another large chunk of asteroid, seamlessly, barely paying any attention to the terrain around her. She doesn’t need to. Even in a field this littered, space is Nova’s strongest suit. She could do this with her eyes closed. “As far as I can see, you’ve landed what, three shots? I don’t think you’ll be getting anywhere near close enough to even do damage to my ship. You’re three fighters strong, and one of you has a wounded wing. And you still haven’t answered my question.”

“The First Order demands your services.”

Nova’s blood runs ice-cold. It’s a familiar request at this point, but still, the name sends a very real shiver all the way down her spine, rocking and rattling her vertebrae. She swallows, blinking furiously, avoiding the tailspin of a smaller asteroid as she lurches out of the chase. That wasn’t the lowly voice of some sorry stormtrooper that got the shitty job of trying to wrangle her out of the skies. It sounds evil. Dark. Mirthless. It wasn’t Moff Gideon’s voice, but it was something close to the memory of the dark timbre of it. Fear forms wet and cold on the back of her neck, curling up through the bottom of her hairline, seeping underneath the warmth of her standard, Rebel-orange jumpsuit. She swallows, but the air feels like it’s evaporating out of her mouth.

“The First Order,” she manages, finally, trying to detach the nervousness from her voice, “will not be getting my services. Not now, not ever.”

It’s only been two weeks since Din’s coronation. Two hectic, packed weeks in which her big, brave bounty hunter boyfriend got forcibly turned into a very reluctant diplomat under the watchful—and perhaps slightly resentful—eye of Bo-Katan Kryze. Din never seemed to really need sleep the way a normal human being did, but Nova watched as the bags under his eyes darkened and grew as he spent long hours in the war rooms, buried somewhere in the giant, stark palace they’d moved into, eyelids pressed into the warm hollow of her neck in the early hours of the morning when he made it to bed at all. In the meantime, Nova was spending every single precious second of her waking hours with Grogu, who she knows is on the verge of needing to go back to Jedi training, trying to absorb as much of his small, green light as she possibly can. When Wedge called the other day, though, he sounded desperate, which didn’t happen often, and she had wrenched herself away from her family on Mandalore to try and stop the impending doom of the First Order on Hoth, but it had been yet another dead end. Polis Massa was a pit stop—an impulsive, foolish one—because Nova ran furiously out of the library archives the last time she was here, and she wanted to pick up books on the history of Mandalore for Din and herself, and a small star of yearning in her chest was to spend a little more time in the shelves like her father used to before the Empire killed him.

And as much as Nova wants to put Andromeda Maluev to rest, longing for the days when she was tiny and growing up on Yavin with her parents alive and happy beside her outweighs the alternative. She swallows through the lump in her throat and closes her eyes to shake the starshine of her past lives away. The time to focus on getting the hell out of here is now, all yearning and ache can blossom fully formed when she’s away from the reaches of the First Order, safely back on Mandalore.

“Surrender,” the voice says again, only this time it is the timbre of some sorry stormtrooper and not the one that still haunts her nightmares, and Nova sighs, flipping all of the switches on Kicker’s dashboard to feint left and fake drop into hyperspace.

“I’ll ask you again. When,” she exhales, straightening up in the pilot’s chair, “has that line ever worked?”

“We are granted permission to obliterate your starfighter under Order Number—”

“Obliterate?” Nova interrupts, stifling another giggle. “Is the Order giving you vocabulary lessons? I’m impressed, trooper—”

“Andromeda Maluev,” the voice comes again, and Nova tries her absolute hardest to ignore the pulsing and aching in her heart that comes with the punch of her previous identity, “you are to surrender to the First Order. Failure to comply will result in termination. This is your final warning.”

Nova sighs, pulling Kicker to a temporary halt. If she stares, the ghostly outline of Mandalore, embedded forever in her memory, will flash in front of her vision, even out here in Polis Massa’s gigantic asteroid belt. She knows that the troopers, whoever they are, whoever they’re working for, will understand that she’s intending to go straight back to the strange palace she’s started calling home, but she also knows that any force in this galaxy, no matter how dark, no matter how strong, is smart enough to know they can’t take on a planet full of Mandalorian warriors without all the strength they’ve got. From the way Kicker is paused in the middle of space, she knows it looks like she’s about to surrender, or at least like she’s weighing her options heavily, and the satisfied, smug silence of the trooper on the other end of the commlink is enough to assure herself that her plan—hasty and rash as it may be—is working.

“Okay,” she whispers, feigning resignation, into the comm. “I understand I’m dealing with forces a lot stronger than I am. I don’t surrender, but I’ll come with you. But first,” she whispers, silencing the clicking that the switches to go into hyperdrive with the muffler of her right hand, “I need to tell you something.”

There’s a pause. “So be it. Reeling you in via tractor beam now.”

The unmistakable whirring of a ship forcibly being dragged onto another’s power starts up, and Nova swallows, pushing the second to last toggle into place, keeping a steady eye on the rocketing meter on her dashboard that indicates the ship is fully charged. Under the noise of Kicker being pulled into the largest TIE fighter’s proximity, the beeping goes unnoticed by the other party. Nova slips her hand off the switch and finds the necklace Din gifted her back before he accepted his role of Mand’alor, pressing hard enough that the symbol embosses itself into her thumbprint. “First of all,” she starts, trying her hardest to keep her voice level and even and not reveal a single ounce of the glee that she’s concealing, “my name hasn’t been Andromeda Maluev in a decade. You want me to answer to you, to answer to the Order? You’ll call me Novalise.”

The sigh from the trooper is short, clipped. “Noted.”

“Second,” Nova continues, leveling her jaw with the center of the dashboard, watching every single thruster lock itself into gear, “I am married to the galaxy’s most ruthless bounty hunter. It’s going to take a hell of a lot more than the word surrender to scare me into submission.”

Kicker grinds to a halt in midair. Nova straps herself in tighter, just enough to ensure that she won’t be sent reeling across the perfectly aligned dashboard when she breaks free of the tractor beam and shoots Kicker straight into the stars, back to Mandalore, back to Din, back home, and steels herself.

“Stop,” another voice says, tinny and nervous over the speaker. “She’s—she’s screwing with us, sir—”

“I’m assuming,” the original trooper speaks, trying to intimidate Nova with the ice in his voice, “that there’s a third thing?”

“Oh, there’s always a third thing,” Nova volleys back, eyes catching the light of what’s been powering up the entire time the troopers thought she was weighing her options and deciding the First Order’s clutches sounded warm and delightful, after all. “Not only am I a commander in the New Rogue Squadron, not only am I the wife of the reigning Mand’alor, I contain multitudes.” She grins, her teeth bared and gleeful in the low light of space, knowing this is by far the most badass exit she’s ever attempted. “And do you know what that means?”

The trooper in the largest fighter sounds defeated. This was barely even a scratch compared to the narrow scrapes Nova’s been entangled with before. She bites down on her bottom lip, cracking her neck, taking advantage of Kicker’s stationary position to break free of the tractor beam, and as the angry clamor of the three troopers in the fighters trying to reel the ship in starts to filter across the commlink, Nova does what she does best.

She barrel rolls the entirety of Kicker, flipping downward and over so that she’s facing the three fighters, staring through her Rebel helmet at the floodlights drenching her whole ship in florescence that shouldn’t be possible in space, and shows every single one of her teeth, smile stretched so far across her face that it hurts, “My starfighter is Rebel-made, sure, but it’s gotten a few upgrades in the past few weeks. The only reason you got this far was because I was waiting to unload the artillery loaded up in the guns that are pointed at you right now. And you know what they’re made of?”

“All aim to kill—”

Nova can’t resist. She tries, but this whole royalty thing, the whole leading the New Rogue Squadron thing, this whole being a Jedi thing—well, all of it has been tallied up enough to recognize she can stand to be the tiniest bit cocky to the people trying to kill her or bring her in as a slave. She raises a single middle finger, making sure that the pilot of the largest fighter catches her elongated, elegant bird with the floodlights. “Same thing as my resolve is. Beskar, bitch.” And with that, she punches all the thrusters, Kicker dazzling and evaporating through hyperspace, gone before the first trigger even pulls.

Mandalore is quiet. There’s a strange serenity that lives on the horizon, pulsing and shifting, but never quite tangible from the planet’s surface. It’s hard to look at the place where the greatest warriors in the galaxy are born and bred and not see anything but a whetted, sharp arena, but so much of this planet is soft around the edges. The blue architecture in the capital, for one—something Nova knows is much newer than the ancient history of the land here—and there’s a silence here that teeters on eerie but mostly stays in a strange sense of tranquility.

It doesn’t hold the feeling of abandonment, like so many other planets do these days, but it seems like the rest of the world around the city is disconnected. Inhabitable. Nova parks Kicker in the nearest landing bay, watching the strange haze that hangs over the atmosphere, trying to find other places where lights are lit, where people live, but so much of the planet is quiet. It’s the same sort of stark contrast that Yavin had when her and Din got engaged all those months ago, or Hoth’s anesthetic brutality, but Mandalore’s environment feels different.

And, Nova reasons, as she disembarks off Kicker’s gangplank, running the tips of her fingers over the Rebel insignia hidden under the outermost coat of white and silver detailing, it’s likely because this isn’t home. Not yet, anyway, and it might never have that feeling of belonging that the Crest did, that Kicker does, that her and Din found on Naator and Kashyyyk and Nevarro. Nova climbs the marble steps to the palace, smiling at the stoic Mandalorians stationed outside as she slips up the stairs and through the main entrance, immediately cutting sideways up the hallways to the left, watching as her shadow traipses behind her in the blue dusk, trying to not stake stock of the silence that most of the building holds. In true Mandalorian fashion, their holding cells are built into the palace itself, alongside training arenas and the war room where Din spends most of his time. Nova moves as quietly as she can through the halls, up the other marble staircase, and when she bursts into the chambers twice the size of the starship that she and Din usually call home, a gurgle from Grogu on the floor makes the entire day turn around.

Nova grins, dropping to her knees. Grogu beams up at her, his big bug eyes full of nothing but love, and she scoops him up, pressing his tiny, warm body against her chest. It chases away all the chill of Hoth and the crush of space, and for a second, she just runs her fingers over the top of his fuzzy head, pressing kisses to his green skin, soaking in every second she can.

“I missed you, lovey,” she murmurs, and Grogu’s giant green ears perk up. “What did you do in your day here?”

Grogu pulls away from her chest, pressing a three-fingered hand against Nova’s temple. The visions that used to terrify her, the ones Grogu put into her head, filled with screaming and loss and desperation, fall away as he shows her the bath he took, the feast he got for dinner, sitting on Din’s lap while in the war room. As he drops his touch, Nova grins down at him, all teeth and excitement, all of the panic and isolation of the last few hours melting away.

“He terrorized Bo-Katan,” a familiar voice rings out from behind her, and Nova pushes herself up on the heels of her hands, her heart flipping over with the same butterfly menagerie Din’s always given her. “I didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop.”

“Hi,” Nova whispers, giddy, watching as Din steps forward out of the shadows. It doesn’t matter how many times she’s been lucky enough to gaze over his handsome face, it doesn’t matter that he’s been spending more time helmetless here on Mandalore, every time she sees him, it’s like the first time. In the moonlight, obscured by the permafrost of Mandalore’s blue twilight, Nova’s eyes roam over the valleys and mountains of her husband’s face. His hair is the length it was when he proposed, long enough for the ends to curl up gently. His mouth, even in the near darkness, is pink and gorgeous, his lips slightly parted in the unconscious way they do when Nova’s the only thing in his eyeline. His scruff is there, long enough to scratch her chin—or her thighs—up something terrible, and the ghost of the mustache she used to feel in the dark is strong, dark, manicured. His eyelashes are longer than the length of her thumbnails, and his eyes, his gorgeous brown eyes, soften around the edges the second Nova smiles.

“Hi,” Din echoes, bridging the gap between the two of them with two quick strides, and Nova feels her breath catch in her throat. Din’s hands, gloved in black and twice the size of her own, balance on the curve of her hips, his fingers digging into the loops of her orange jumpsuit, pulling Nova over her own feet, anchoring her body right up against hers. The way he kisses after only being separated overnight is desperate, longing, filled with words he doesn’t always know how to say. Nova leans into his embrace, head fuzzy, waterlogged, like everything else fades away. It does. She loses track of time, how many minutes pass, the stars behind her eyes dazzling, supernovae, regenerated.

When they break apart, Nova’s hand trails over the regalia Din’s wearing. It’s his familiar beskar, the armor he’s worn since they first met, but it’s been cleaned, and underneath, where his typical black undergarments used to cling to his build, he’s wearing Mandalore blue. It’s the color of the skyline at dusk, a faded azure that signals something more than warrior, something a shade closer to royalty. The material is lightweight, practical. It’s the same kind that every single one of her matching outfits are made out of—Mandalorians don’t have much use for aesthetic, it just gets in the way of practicality—but it seems more vibrant on Din. “How was today?” she whispers into the hollow of his mouth, and Din exhales, low and slow, tipping his bare forehead against hers.

“Long without you,” he admits, his voice barely anything. Nova’s eyes search his deep brown ones, trying to figure out where his exhaustion is hiding. “Come with me. I—I want to show you something.”

Nova nods, catching sight of the dirty orange jumpsuit stretched over her tan trousers, the black tank top she’d spent the past year replacing every time Din tore it off of her body. “I should change.”

Din’s eyes flick hungrily over her silhouette, and when he speaks again, his voice is husky. “No,” he says, finally, digging his thumb slightly into the flesh on her hip, “you shouldn’t.”

The trek downstairs is quiet. Both of them move in the shadows, lulled into an easy silence, their hands knitted together in between their two bodies. Nova watches as the low light of the corridor flickers as they cross over another staircase and down a side hallway, entering through the war room by the back entrance instead of the front, even though there’s no one left in here to try to hide from.

Nova’s been in here at least ten times, but the decoration steals the breath straight out of her mouth every time. A glittering holotable, top of the line, at least twenty years more advanced than the one on Hoth, sits in the direct center. The ceiling looks more like a cathedral than it does anything else, which is perfectly fitting for a group of people who treat fighting as their religion. Nova looks up through the sheer domed ceiling, watching as the moody dusk falls into a silent, quiet night. Stars dazzle and shine from above, and even though they’re not nearly as poignant and powerful down here as they are out in space, the direct line to the cosmos is bright enough to make her throat ache. “Wow,” Nova whispers, voice barely anything at all, staring straight upward, mapping constellations under her breath. Eventually, her eyes slide off of the ceiling, traveling over the careful architecture, the shrines in the corners, the murals painstakingly hand-painted across the circular walls, all of beskar and helmets and Mandalorian history. It feels so ancient, even though the palace was recently rebuilt, reconstructed from nothing during both of their lifetimes. She’s been in here a handful of times before, but never as night is on the horizon. There’s something transcendent about this place, this holy center of Mandalorian worship. Something deeper, something divine enough to make a Jedi believe in them, too.

Din’s standing across the other end of the holotable, fidgeting with the controls until a map of the galaxy sparkles to life in front of them. Through the light, Nova watches the peaks of her husband’s face getting caught in the reflections, letting everything except his face blur out to stardust. “Did you get anything from Wedge?” he asks, and Nova blinks her eyes to refocus on the map. “Anything new? Anything…useful?”

Quietly, Nova shakes her head. “He thought—he called me back to Hoth because of a prison break in one of the sectors Cara doesn’t have jurisdiction in, or I’d suspect she’d have already taken care of it. It was small, just a few criminals with nothing more than petty charges breaking out of a hold somewhere, but he thought it might be related to—”

“The First Order?”

“Me,” Nova finishes, quietly. Her eyes narrow just a fraction, refocusing on Din’s silhouette through the glitter of the galaxy between them. “Yeah, the Order. We couldn’t prove anything, but I—”

“You feel something is coming,” Din interrupts gently, stealing the words right out of her mouth, bracing his strong, gloved hands on the side of the holotable, and Nova nods, watching his grip, starting to get a little dizzy, with lust or with the reflections above them or both. “Don’t you?”

“I do,” she echoes, confirming his theory. “I—I took a detour coming back here. I went to Polis Massa, to try and return to the library archives so I could learn more about Mandalore and bring you back something other than a dead end.”

Din stares at her, his face partially hidden in the glow of the rotating image of the holotable. “You brought yourself back here,” he says, finally, and Nova’s knees buckle a little under the husk of his voice. “It’s hard to care about much else.”

Nova bites down on her lip, butterflies swirling up a storm inside her tummy. “Din,” she whispers, leaning forward on the table, cocking her head in the signature way he always does, lifting her chin slightly with the tilt, “we are tasked with the incredible privilege of saving the galaxy, you know—”

“Fuck the galaxy,” Din breathes, and despite the fact that what he’s wanting to shirk is their top priority, and really has been for months, it buzzes inside Nova, wet and hot. “Let someone else handle it for once. I don’t care.”

“You do care,” she protests, weakly, but his tongue slides out from the hollow of his mouth, and everything else seems to evaporate. “I know—fuck, I don’t know, I know you missed me when I left overnight, I know we’ve been apart more than we’ve been together, but it’s for good reason, and when we save, y’know, the whole galaxy and everything, it…it’ll be all the time in the world for the two of us.”

“I’m impatient,” Din counters, roughly, and then he’s around the table in three quick, determined strides. Nova sighs, letting her body crumple a little as Din moves forward, his hands on her hips, anchoring her pelvis against his. “Don’t make me wait any more for you, cyar’ika, I won’t be able to stand it.”

Nova inhales sharply, feeling him harden against her leg, and she lifts her chin a touch more, enough for their lips to only be an inch apart, enough to make eye contact, enough for all of this to let the rest of the world fade right out. “You know,” she whispers, finally, blood pumping furiously, “you’re the leader of this planet. You could order me to do anything, and I’d be helpless to do anything but comply.”

Din lets out a groan, low and desperate, a choked off, guttural one. “And if I told you I wanted you right here on this table?”

Nova grins, her teeth glittering against the quickening darkness, pulling away only to drape herself over the holotable, face down, letting the spots where her body occupies the space filter out of the reflection. The glow of the lights is disrupted by her figure, and she hears Din’s voice catch in the dark behind her as she arches her back, still fully clothed, an invitation for him to come closer, to take what’s rightfully his. “Then you’d have me right here on this table, Mand’alor.”

She feels Din press up against her, hard against the soft, voluptuous curve of her ass. He inhales, heavily, she can hear it whine through the darkness, not hidden under the evenness of the modulator built into his helmet. Nova knows she’s an expert at getting out of things—sticky situations, clothes, everything in between—but right now, she wants to make Din wait beg for it before she complies. Something to prove that even while he’s the one on the throne, her neck is holding up the crown. At least here. Especially here.

“And if I told you I wanted to fuck you on the floor?”

“Then you’d take me on the floor, Mand’alor. I quite like the floor, you know.”

“You—” Din’s breath cuts off again, and Nova lets the timbre of his voice soak into her. It turns her heart over, first, that excitement tangling up with the knowledge that she’ll let him do anything. It’s been over a week since the last time they fucked, because he’s been spending most of his time in this room, trying to prove to the rest of the planet that he’s worthy enough to hold the throne, and she’s been splitting her time between Grogu and saving the galaxy. All of them necessary evils, deserving distractions, but it’s nearly impossible to think about anything other than the feel of Din up against Nova, his mouth on her neck, his hands on her hips, concerned only with burying himself as deep into her as he possibly can. “I brought you down here to show you the stars. You’re distracting me.”

Nova smiles, then braces her palms on top of the holotable, pushing herself up, gliding her body backwards up against her husband’s. “What an honor,” she purrs, quiet, low, the same kind of voice Din always uses when he wants her so badly it hurts to breathe, “that the king of Mandalore thinks I am a suitable distraction.”

“Novalise.”

“Use me as a distraction, then,” Nova continues, taking hold of one of Din’s gloved hands, guiding them against the curve of her chest, making sure he feels how her nipples harden under his touch, a soft, mewling sound with her mouth completely indicative of the flush of warmth rushing between her legs. “Show me anything you want, oh worthy Mand’alor, please—”

Her breath is cut off as Din whirls her around by her throat. It’s sudden, desperate, the kind of electricity he used to greet her with whenever he finally tracked down the bounty he was hunting and could let loose with her on the Crest.

“Get on,” Din starts, voice raggedly, both hands clenching against Nova’s cheeks, puckering her lips, “the fucking throne, cyar’ika.”

“The—throne?” Nova repeats, breathless. “You want—”

“I want to fuck you on my throne,” Din interrupts, and stars above, she can feel the way that his cock is throbbing in his pants, through the regalia, through the beskar, all of it. “You said anything I want. I want to make you scream my name on the planet we rule while I’m seven inches inside of you. That work for you?”

Nothing but a strangled moan comes out.

Din nods. “Good. Get over there.”

Nova reels back as he releases her. It takes more than a few seconds to collect herself enough to move, and when she does, her legs feel like they’re made out of rubber, elastic and wobbly. She can feel his heavy gaze on her as she makes her way around the holotable, and when she takes the few steps that lead to the ironclad, menacing chair that sits atop the highest point in the room, Din’s voice rings out.

“Stop,” he commands, and she does, feeling her heart hammer. “Face me.”

Nova turns, her breath caught in her throat, staring down at Din. The few steps she’s scaled make her just a tad taller than Din is, and she watches as he slowly moves forward, crossing the tile of the floor with quiet, intentional steps.

“Take your clothes off,” Din manages, and Nova’s almost a hundred percent sure that he’s whispering, even though it might just be that she can’t hear anything over how loud her blood is pumping, over how hard her heart is hammering.

“Now?”

He raises a single dark eyebrow, and Nova nods, trying to peel off her shirt and her trousers as fast as she can. She kicks off her shoes, and they land at the bottom of the steps with a very incriminating thud, but Din just kicks them out of the way as he presses the soles of his beskar boots deliberately against the tile. Everything in here is blue and reflective, even after night has fallen on Mandalore, and Nova catches sight of her silhouette in the floor. Her breath stutters in her throat, suddenly very aware that she’s completely naked and Din, save for his forgotten helmet, is fully clothed, but with the way his eyes are roving over her body like he’s starving and she’s the only thing in this galaxy or the next that can satiate it, she forgets how to care.

“You,” he starts, trailing a single gloved finger down the curve of her body, “are so beautiful.”

“Stop,” she whispers, smiling, everything burning and in flames. It’s the opposite of what she means—she never wants Din to stop calling her beautiful, stop revering her, stop treating her like something holy—but when they’re in a public room that just about anyone left on this planet can walk on, and she’s the only one naked, the risk burns hotter than her desire. “Din, I—”

His finger is on her lips before Nova even realizes he’s moved. “Do you believe me?”

Nova blinks, stuttering over the dying words hidden somewhere between her teeth and the back of her throat. The answer is yes, because Din Djarin never utters a single word that he doesn’t mean, because he uses so few of them to begin with, and also because he’s seen every single inch of her body and worshipped it, but in this reflective room, usually full of figures so much more athletic, razor-sharp, warrior-grade, a tiny bead of insecurity spools down the back of her neck. Nervously, Nova’s gaze filters off of Din’s, flicking over to the ornate door on the other side of the room, and when she looks back, he’s staring at her.

“Nova?” he repeats, gently, and something about the way he’s saying it makes tears spring up in her eyes. “Here. Come here. Look at yourself.”

She lets him guide her over to the throne, which is made out of the shiniest, most reflective beskar she’s ever seen, polished so effortlessly it doubles as a mirror, and Din pulls curls of her dark hair away from her collarbone, fingers grazing the new necklace he gifted her, one hand curling around her jaw, the other sliding down the side of her body.

“Look at yourself,” Din repeats, his touch still so light, and when Nova doesn’t immediately obey, his grip tightens. Not hard, just filled with enough desire to snap her back to her senses—that he took her into this room to fuck her senseless, that his eyes don’t meet anyone else’s, that Din Djarin isn’t a pious man in any other capacity than his Creed and all the rules he broke to worship Nova instead. She relaxes under his touch, her eyes glazing as they travel over the valleys of her naked body. Her skin doesn’t glow in the darkness like it does during the daylight, but it’s a rich brown, three or so shades darker than Din’s. Her eyes, a deep sage green that dips into brown in the darkness, glitter as they flash against the beskar. Her eyelashes, dark and tangled up in the corners from where her laughter lines are. Her nose, not as prominent as Din’s hooked, curved one, but big, slightly upturned, and anchored in the center of her face. Her mouth, plump and perma-stained deep pink from where she bites hard on it in concentration. Her hair, so long now that it trails down to where her curved hipbones protrude, woven into a deeper curl than the natural wave of her hair from the braids it’s always tied back in. Din’s hand on her hip clenches gently at his knuckles, and she lets her gaze shift off of her face, down the stocky muscles of her upper arms, slightly sore from twirling Grogu around and from flying out of her skirmish with the TIE fighters. Her hands are long and elegant, princess fingers, her mother used to call them, dainty and slender, nails kept short to flip all the necessary switches on whatever vessel she’s flying, thumbs worn down with callouses from fighting and twirling Luke’s lightsaber around for the last two weeks, trying to conjure the power he radiates on her own. Down the left side of her tummy, which is rounded and collects weight around her bellybutton, is the scar that Jacterr Calican left in an attempt to rip her soul out of her body, and Din’s finger traces over the bump of it, gentle, endearing, protective. Her hips, which are wide, the curves of her upper legs, the muscles that pack on more weight in her calves. Nova looks at herself and sees, just for a glimpse, just for a split second, that sure, she’s not shaped like a Mandalorian, but she’s certainly desired by one. Din pulls her hair back from where it’s settled against her throat, pressing his lips to her skin.

“What do you see?” he murmurs, his voice deep and electric.

“The girl you love,” Nova whispers, grinning at him in their reflections. Din spins her back around, much gentler than he did a minute ago, all the fire gone, his eyes gentle like the oceans on Yavin.

“Damn right,” Din affirms, the timbre of his voice in her ear making goosebumps spark up across Nova’s bare arms. “Now get on the throne.”

She’s giddy. Her heart is, as usual, racing a thousand beats per minute, threatening to hammer right out of her chest. It’s cold—the throne—cool to the touch. As Nova slowly slides down onto the beskar, she watches Din’s brown eyes flash with lust and longing, and his look alone is enough to take away the chill against her bare skin. The beskar warms to her touch, and she crosses one thick thigh over the other, trying to quell the nervousness that’s still whining at the back of her mind.

“Don’t look at the door,” Din orders, his head cocked to the side. It’s been a few months now since Nova’s seen every single contour of his face, but every new expression not hidden behind the helmet makes her stomach lurch up into her throat. Right now, she can see the tenseness of his command in his clenched jaw, but his eyes soften as they roam over her body. “Look at me.”

“Din—”

“Look at me.”

Nervously, she does. The second her eyes meet his, everything else fades away. In the back of her mind, she’s aware that she’s completely naked, her skin up and against something divine, something not meant for her, this throne that she’s about to be desecrated on.

And sweet Maker above, she doesn’t even care. Din slowly canvasses the distance between the two of them, the intensity of his gaze never once wavering off of Nova’s face. The pure look of animalistic desire on his unmasked face makes her whimper under her breath. If she were weaker, she would cower away, avert her eyes, but by this point, she’s earned her brazenness. There are exactly two things in this galaxy that the ruler of Mandalore, the most ruthless bounty hunter, and the man in front of her would do anything for. Grogu and Nova.

He doesn’t make a noise. Everything is an electric wire as he finds his secure, silent footing on the first step, and Nova’s heart catches in her throat. She wants to say something, to make a silly comment, to cut through the tension, but she knows that whatever’s about to follow Din’s ascent will be worth her quiet. Instead, Nova bites down on her trembling lip, watching the rest of the throne room disappear as Din steps closer, still not making a single noise, pulling his body weight up the lip of each step, staring at her.

“What?” she manages, finally, the word all air.

Din moves closer. Nova’s seated against the throne, the beskar suddenly warm against her bare skin. Everything in her is burning. “What do you want?” Din asks, his voice deep, rumbling through her like a honeyed thunderstorm. He doesn’t even have the modulator to filter his words, and even though the deepness of his voice through the helmet runs rivers through her, Nova’s suddenly glad for the bareness of all of this. It makes it easier, dirtier, better.

“I want you,” Nova manages, hollowly, the words surrender out of her parted lips. “Just you.”

“You want me?” Din repeats, and a flash of lust sparks up behind his beautiful brown eyes. There’s something dangerous in his tone, something deeper, something electric. She stares at him, unwilling to break his gaze. If it were anyone else, Nova would think that the timbre of Din’s voice was teasing, but the edge to it suggests towards pleading.

“Yes,” Nova echoes, and Din moves forward, towering over her. She stares up at him as one gloved hand easily notches against her right cheek, eyelashes fluttering as the pad of Din’s fabric-laden thumb traces over the mountain of her cheekbone. “I want you, Mand’alor—”

“I’m not Mand’alor right now, cyar’ika,” Din interrupts, his voice low and ragged, sparking somewhere in his throat. “Look at who’s on the throne.”

Nova gulps. Air is suddenly impossible to come by. Everything in her is electric, alive. Everything else fades out except for Din’s touch. Her doubt, her insecurity—it’s all been chased away and zapped into obliteration by the way Din’s speaking, touching, breathing. “I—”

“Say my name,” Din says, hooking his free hand under Nova’s chin. She swallows, letting the roughness of his gesture manipulate her body in any way that he wants, pliable against Din’s weathered hands. “Say you want me.”

“Din,” Nova squeaks out, and a single one of his dark eyebrows quirks up against the celestial darkness of the throne room, daring her to speak. “Din Djarin,” Nova rectifies, her voice suddenly loud and clear. It booms out, fills the throne room with sound. For once, the buzzing in her head completely drowns out her fear of being discovered. This palace doesn’t exist. Anyone walking the strange, ornate, blue halls doesn’t exist. Stars above, Mandalore itself doesn’t exist at this point. She’s emboldened, as if her will has flooded back, full-force. “Three things. There’s always three things included in how I want you. I want you without armor. I want you without titles. I want you like I had you back on Dagobah.”

“And how,” Din whispers, his voice running through Nova like heat, “is that?”

She gasps as Din’s hand slowly slips down to her throat, bracing itself there. He barely squeezes, and without all of her senses screaming at her that Din’s hand is against her, she thinks his touch would feel like a ghost, like nothing there at all. “Like we belong to each other,” Nova manages, and Din’s grip intensifies. It’s a slip. She can tell, with the way that his eyes roll back, with the way that a moan slips out from the hollow of his open mouth. Stars blur through her vision—some refracted from the open sky up above, and some from the restriction to her airflow, and she leans into the pressure just as Din retracts his grip.

“Cyar’ika—”

“I belong to you,” Nova whispers, the words sounding like a confessional, deeper and darker than she intended. Her hands find Din’s, wordlessly pulling his hand back to rest like a vice against her throat. “Everything in me is yours. Remember?”

Din squeezes again, and the grin that was hiding slowly spreads across Nova’s face. She knows that in the darkness, her teeth glow white, framed by the plump pinkness of her mouth. Din’s standing, still fully clothed, but she can tell by the way his grip tightens against her throat that he’s rock hard under all that beskar.

“Din,” she manages, her voice high and thready through the pressure of his hand, “what do you want?”

“I want you,” he chokes out, guttural and dangerous, his voice coming from somewhere beyond the horizon. Immediately, he pulls Nova to her feet by her throat, eyes flickering carefully over her own gaze to double-check that what he’s doing isn’t too far. She smiles back at him, and when she’s fully standing, smile still plastered across her starstruck face, she drops her grip on Din’s wrist and immediately moves to unhook his armor. She could do it in the dark. She could do it blind. By now, Nova’s memorized every single inch of Din’s body, whether he’s armored in all of his beskar or not. Even the new additions to his regalia since becoming Mand’alor are burned into Nova’s memory, bright and gleaming. She doesn’t break Din’s gaze as she undresses him, pulling the pauldrons off, the chest plates, the silver V of covering that protects his lower stomach and his crotch. It’s over in what feels like seconds, and then the only thing covering Din is the soft fabric of his underclothes. Nova tugs at his trousers first, pulling them down to reveal the silky feeling of his boxers. She positions herself in between Din’s legs, grabbing his right hip to anchor his hardness against her, and he groans out again, the desperate, wet sound filling up the throne room. It's loud. Too loud. The kind of loud that Din never reaches, not unless they’re the only two people on a planet, not unless they’re lost out there in the crush of space. If his cheeks redden at the sound, though, Nova doesn’t catch it, because her touch is too focused, her vision still spinning off starry, impassioned, loud. Slowly, she reaches up through Din’s weakening grip to pull the shirt off of his torso, breath catching in her throat as she takes the King of Mandalore without armor, without clothes, without anything. Nova smiles up at Din, blinking away the small tears of pleasure that gathered in the corners of her eyes, and then she sinks back down on the throne, squaring her shoulders, tossing her loose hair out of her face, eyes full of allure and desire.

“I want you,” she echoes, and then her mouth is on his stomach. Din gasps out, the sound of it ringing out like infernal bells, and Nova hides her teeth as she grins against his stomach, tongue swirling up and down his belly, fingers grazing like butterfly wings across the bones of his hips. She can feel him growing harder and harder as she teases, parting some of the faint hair that trails down his stomach with the wetness of her mouth. Din’s hands find her shoulders, and his fingers clench down, leaving small half-moons imprinted on either side of her neck. “Can I taste you?”

“W—want you,” Din chokes out, his voice demanding and desperate, but the rocking of his hips against her chest betrays him, and before he can make good on his command, Nova’s already slid every inch of him down her throat. She moans in rhythm with him, as Din’s hands leave her shoulders in a frenzy and instead tangle in her hair, wanting. Quietly, Nova swirls her tongue around the base before she pulls off of his cock with a loud, slurping, sucking noise, and she doesn’t even have time to be embarrassed before she’s sinking her mouth all the way down over Din again, the tears that have returned at the corners of her eyes springing back to life. They feel like satisfaction. She can feel him trembling, and when she drops one of her hands between his legs, lightly cupping his balls, Din cries out again. “Nova—”

“Shh,” she interrupts, which is truly a feat, considering her mouth is full of him and her saliva and not much else, “let me finish you here.”

“No,” Din interrupts, and his voice is strangled, muddled. Immediately, Nova does, pulling her mouth off of him regrettably, blinking up at him, lower lip slowly jutted out. “I k—fuck, I know you wanted to finish me like this, but—but I need you to break in my throne.”

A jolt of lightning strikes through Nova’s body, and she shudders as Din’s shaking grip finds the small of her back and pulls her to her trembling feet. For a moment, everything else evaporates, just the two of them breathing and holding each other, Din’s forehead stooped low to press against hers, and then he whirls her around.

Nova’s used to Din’s manhandling, the expert way he spins and lifts her, like she’s made of nothing but air. This is much clumsier than his usual vigor, and when she’s done a complete 180 and is facing her husband, Mand’alor, the big brave bounty hunter, he’s seated on his throne like he owns it, and his hands are on Nova’s hips in the same place where she was sitting a second ago. There’s something deeper and more intense in his gaze right now, something beyond just lust. It’s power, Nova recognizes as Din pulls her hips down, her knees splaying to the sides of the beskar throne. The metal is unyielding against her bones, but still, she doesn’t feel the impact. Din has collapsed her on top of him, the only thing keeping her upward is his grip and her knees trying desperately to cling onto the straddling position that Din’s holding her in.

For a moment, she just stares at him. He looks like divinity, here, something deeper than just another human being in front of him. Nova doesn’t know if it’s the starry sky spinning through the throne room, or because this feels like a holy place of worship, or if it’s just been weeks since they’ve had longer than a handful of minutes at the end of the day before they both fall asleep, too exhausted and dizzied by their work to touch each other relentlessly, but she feels like she’s spinning. Like this has been months in the making, even though it’s only been a handful of days since Din pulled her down over his lap and anchored her hips to his. Her eyes are on his, desperate, searching. When a single hand trails up to brush against her throat, she eagerly leans into his touch, nodding before his outstretched hand makes contact with her neck, skin on skin.

“You want this?” Din breathes, eyes fixed on her open mouth, and Nova nods against his question, his touch, everything.

“More than anything,” she manages, voice throaty and high, stars spinning beyond her eyes. Din nods in assent, and then his hand is gone, a claw rounded around her hipbones, his fingernails sinking into the plushy flesh. The way he holds her as he grinds her down on top of him is enough to make the rest of the world—and every insecurity—trickle out of Nova. When he pushes inside her, slick and warm and so big from this position, she gasps, the sound of it wet and obscene, too loud for the silent room.

“Fuck,” Din hisses, and then Nova starts moving of her accord. She can’t really feel her knees as they dig into the smooth, impenetrable surface of the beskar throne, but it doesn’t even matter. This is worth never feeling either patella ever again. There’s something humming low and urgent in Din’s throat, his scratchy face buried in Nova’s neck, tongue licking and snapping at her most sensitive pulse point. She groans. “You—you’re perfect, cyar’ika.”

“Not perfect,” she murmurs, hands wrapping around Din’s neck and tangling in his dark hair, eyes fluttering open enough to catch a glimpse at it, her fingers long and beautiful as they tug at his hair.

“Listento yourself,” Din pleads, one of his strong, toned arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her down over and over. In any other situation it would be embarrassing, the sucking noise coming ceaselessly between her thighs, but she’s so wet and so close to the edge that she doesn’t try to obscure it, and doesn’t try to fight Din’s insistent, guttural words. “You’re perfect. Everything about you. Your hips, the—the way they move. Your eyes, rolling back into your skull as I fuck you. Shit, Nova, everything about your pussy, I—”

She can feel her cheeks burning. It’s not often that Din is this vocal, this unhinged, especially not in this situation. It’s dirty and forbidden, and as she bounces up and down on his cock, eyes rolled back like he loves, everything wet and slippery between her legs, she forgets all about the fact that they’re naked and desecrating the throne of Mandalore. It’s everything. It’s so much, and when she’s right on the edge of orgasm, Din grinds his hips up into her.

“Din—”

“I want to show you off,” he grits out, and before she can ask him what he means, he’s lifting her off of him like she weighs fucking nothing, pushing himself down to the hilt inside her as she watches the empty throne room, the empty seats around the holotable, watched by the lifeless warriors painted on the wall. She doesn’t try to hide any part of her body. Din’s still whispering every dirty sound he can think of in her ear, one broad arm wrapped around her waist, the other hand tangled up in Nova’s hair.

“To whom?” she asks, the words barely even air. She’s on the edge still, eyes blinking, torso trembling. She wants Din to let her cum so bad, she can barely hear what he’s saying over the pumping rush of blood in her ears.

Din lifts up a lock of hair, the same stubborn wave that always falls in her face, tucking it gently behind her year. For a second, she sees red, legs shaking, completely subject to whatever Din’s doing. “Everyone,” he whispers, and the shock of how guttural and feral his voice sounds sends Nova right over the edge she’d been teetering on. He makes her cum so hard that everything explodes out into the same number of stars shimmering above, divine and dangerous, white-hot, so, so alive. And before she has a chance to gain her senses back, Din’s dragging and rushing as deep into her as he can, every inch of him warm and desirable, and when he lets go to follow Nova over the edge of the cliff they’re both standing on, she gasps as he fills her, hot and thick. It’s so much harder than the last time they fucked, both of them devastated, exhausted, fulfilled.

Nova leans back against Din’s chest, heaving, spinning, trying to catch her breath. They’re both inhaling and exhaling intently, trying to return back to the planet they rule, to the throne they just fucked on. “Well,” she starts, pulling the long waves off her back, looking over her bare shoulder at Din, “wow.”

He laughs, and he’s still inside her, slowly softening as he comes back down from the high of it, pressing his pink lips against her exposed skin. “High praise.”

“It’s the truth,” she whispers, giggling, suddenly remembering where they are. “I—I can’t believe we just did that—”

“We’re newlyweds,” Din interrupts, his voice still rough from the aftermath of sex, and something sparks up low in Nova’s belly as he talks, “plus I’m the ruler of this planet, remember?”

She grins, tipping her shoulder back into his bare chest, trailing her fingers over his tan skin, tracing fault lines she’s never seen but knows are there. “I like power on you.”

“Nova—”

“No, seriously,” she continues. “It’s hot. Do you get a crown, maybe? Do I?”

“I think one of us will have to duel Bo-Katan for that one,” Din groans, and Nova laughs again, sliding off of his lap, slowly pulling together the pieces of armor she discarded earlier, tossing them through the dark air for Din to collect. The mention of Bo-Katan, though, sends a shiver of a reminder down Nova’s very exposed spine. She pulls her own underclothes on, quickly whipping her tank top back over her head, suddenly remembering how cold it is in here when she’s not writhing between the proverbial sheets with her husband. She bites down on her lip, hastily zipping her trousers up, the noise loud and discordant. “Nova,” Din continues, squinting at her, “what’s wrong?”

“Oh,” she says, dazed, tossing the last piece of armor back over to him, “you know, we—we just desecrated a holy part of Mandalore, we don’t know how the hell to fight off the First Order, and Bo-Katan is probably standing right outside that door, ready to kick both of our asses.”

“She,” Din answers, pushing against the heavy beskar doors, “is not here. We’re working on how to stop the Order. And this holy part of Mandalore,” he breathes, walking back towards her, one eyebrow raised, as if he’s questioning the way his face is displaying expression, “is ours to desecrate.”

“When you said,” Nova breathes, staring back at him, everything else fading out, “that you wanted to show me off to everyone—”

Din suddenly looks sheepish, and she giggles. “Nova, I didn’t—I was just into the moment, if you don’t want to—you never have to, I—”

She grins, smile glittering in the dark, sliding past him and into the empty hall, drifting in the general direction of their bedroom. “I didn’t say,” she whispers coyly, holding out one hand for Din’s gloved one, “that I didn’t want to.” She winks, pulling a still-stammering Din behind her. “I just can’t believe you want to share me with anyone.”

They’re up the stairs and back to the entrance to the master bedroom, and Din finally finds his words—or his grip—and grabs her, twirling Nova back into his arms with the force of the bounty hunter that he used to be. “You’re mine,” he whispers. “I won’t let a single person in this galaxy forget it.”

Nova grins, heart doing backflips in her chest. By the time they finally make their way into the suite, it’s dark across the whole wide expanse of sky, and Grogu is asleep in their bed, comically small compared to the king-size that takes up most of the room. “I know,” she whispers, looking back and forth from her husband to their son, a smile etched into her lips. “We should get to bed,” she murmurs, after a second, and Din nods, pulling off the armor and his underclothes in his silent Mandalorian way, Nova weaving her hair back into her usual braid, feeling the bruises from her knees banging forcefully into the beskar throne.

“What’s on your schedule for tomorrow?” Din asks, both of them gently pulling the pillows that line the bed onto the ground, until it’s empty except for their usual spread and the baby’s tiny body. His eyes drift down to Grogu, and so do Nova’s. He knows. She knows. Neither of them want to say it aloud. It’s time for Grogu to go back with Luke and resume his Jedi training, even though none of them want him gone. Nova swallows.

“You know,” she tries, halfheartedly trying to lift her voice into excitement, “Back to business.”

Din rolls over, facing Nova in the darkness. “You don’t have to,” he whispers, and she knows losing Grogu again, even though it’s to Luke Skywalker, even though they’ll be able to fix it, is wreaking havoc on him too. Nova settles down next to him, ears focused only on the miniscule snores of Grogu’s open mouth, her hand finding Din’s, her eyes falling over where Luke’s lightsaber is hanging ceremoniously by the door.

“But I do,” she answers, finally, closing her tired eyes. “We have a galaxy to save. And I,” she breathes, snuggling in closer to the baby, “have a Jedi to see.”

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I HOPE YOU LOVED IT!!!! whether you're a returning reader or a longtime lover, i m so happy you're here with Din, Nova, Grogu, and me. i just simply could not stay away from this story, and i cannot wait to go across the stars and back with the second fic in the series!! leave all your thoughts in the comments here, or find me over at tumblr @ amiedala, or scroll through my tiktok @ padmeamydala

CHAPTER 2 WILL BE UP SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 11TH, @ 7:30 PM EST!

xoxo, amelie

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