#starlight series

[peterpparkrr]

Starlight (pt. 1)

Series: Starlight

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: A Mandalorian and a Jedi. Din Djarin needs a Jedi to train the child. The Jedi is surprised to discover that she is not alone in the universe. 

A/N: s3 means new Mandalorian thoughts!

Your life had been a lonely one. But it was the isolation that kept you safe.

You often wondered if you shouldn’t be trying harder to look for other survivors, but every time you tried to reach out through the force you just felt… nothing. 

The Jedi were gone. 

And so it was safer for you to stay out here on your own little planet by yourself, where you knew no one would find you. 

Until one day you heard the sound of twigs snapping under boots in the woods outside.

You moved to the window, silently watching as a figure stepped out of the trees.

“A Mandalorian,” You muttered to yourself as you stood up and walked over to your doorway.

You hadn’t seen a true Mandalorian in the flesh before. And you hadn’t seen armored men since you were a child. Since your master’s Battalion had turned on you. 

“I will give you a chance to leave here with your life, Mandalorian,” You state loudly as you step out of your hut and into the clearing in front of your home. 

“I am not here to-”

“-You need to leave,” You told the stranger before igniting your lightsaber with a familiar buzz, “Now.” 

You attacked without a moment of hesitation, hoping to capture the element of surprise against your larger opponent.

You’d been alone for a long time. But that hadn’t meant you’d given up training. 

Even with no master to guide you you’d worked hard to excel at your skills and had done your best to continue your training. Your master had always teased you for being a teacher’s pet. Though the end goal was no longer clear. You wouldn’t be a Jedi master.

The Jedi were well and truly gone.

But you would always be able to protect yourself.

As you swiped your lightsaber against the Mandalorian’s chest you were certain that this fight was already over. But your saber glanced off the armor in a way that made you second-guess yourself. 

Maker. Mandalorian armor was made of Beskar, wasn’t it?

That’s when you felt it. You all but dropped your lightsaber as you whipped around. 

A youngling? Here?

It only took you a few short strides before you were in front of the open cradle. Big, green ears were the first thing you saw, shortly followed by huge eyes that stared up at you. You plucked the child out of it’s cradle without a second thought. 

“How…”

You hadn’t felt this feeling in years. 

But his voice was clear inside your mind as he communicated with you.

Friends. Promise.

“You? You brought him here?” You asked the Mandalorian curiously.

“Yes,” The Mandalorian replies. Seemingly accepting your sudden change of mind as your eyes moved back to the small creature in your hands.

“We’ve been searching the galaxy for someone who can help him, who can teach him how to use his powers,” He says.

You hum quietly as your eyes bore into the child’s

What’s your name?

Grogu. 

This is my papa. People call him Mando.

You tell both of them your name aloud as you grin down at the boy.

The Mandalorian. Mando. Merely stares at you, his helmet impermeable. 

“You’re a Jedi.”

“Depends on your definition,” You reply. “The Jedi were killed in a genocide when the Empire seized power. The few who survived were hunted down and killed under the Empire’s regime.”

“My master kept us hidden from the Empire for years. She trained me here, under the radar of the Empire,” You explain. “She died a few years ago fighting with the rebellion.”

“But why does a Mandalorian have a force-sensitive foundling? I would have thought you’d have killed him the moment you found out what he was,” You ask quietly. 

“Why?” The Mandalorian asks you, his helmet cocked.

“Well, the two don’t usually get along. The Jedi-Mandalorian War? It ravaged Mandalore. Prior to the Empire. Jedi-Mandalorian relations have been pretty tense ever since,” You explain.

“I was a foundling, my covert left many gaps in the Mandalorian history they taught us,” He replies.

“How did you find each other?”

Saved me.

“I was- am a bounty hunter, he was a quarry,” Mando tells you, you can hear the slight tinge of shame in his tone. 

“I’ve taken him as a foundling, it’s Mandalorian creed,” Mando continues. “I’m duty-bound to either reunite him with his kind or raise him until he’s of age.”

“So… you want to dump him off here with me?” You ask, “I’m his kind?”

“How did you even find me?” 

“A trader on the next planet over told me I might find you here, that there were rumors years ago about a Jedi. Stories. But the child — Grogu — got excited as we entered the atmosphere and I assumed that meant we were close.”

“I’ll… I’d like to visit, I can bring you supplies, whatever you need,” Mando offers. “I don’t want to leave him. But I can’t train him to control his powers.”

“Alright,” You finally reply with a nod. You can’t help but wonder if this is really a good idea, but Grogu reminds you of yourself in those early years of the Empire’s reign. And you hate to admit it, but their sudden appearance makes it clear that you’ve been lonely. Two stranger’s appearing at your doorstep has made you more excited than anything has for the last five years. And maybe even longer.

You watched from your doorstep as the pair said their goodbyes. Despite knowing they weren’t saying goodbye forever it was clear they were both taking this separation hard. You turned away in an effort to give them some semblance of privacy, even though their emotions were flowing off them both like ocean waves breaking against a cliff.

“We’ll see you soon,” You tell the Mandalorian when he hands Grogu to you. “May the force be with you, Mando.”

“You miss him,” You tell Mando plainly. 

Every few weeks the Mandalorian would come visit, and spend hours with Grogu while you quietly watched. Sometimes you’d all sit together, Grogu was always eager to show Mando what he had learned, or you’d share with Mando what you’d learned from Grogu about his past, what he couldn’t communicate with his father. 

And they’d say a heartfelt, private goodbye before you’d bid Mando farewell and good luck.

You and Grogu both knew that you were always waiting for the Mandaloran’s next visit. It was only natural, you told yourself. It was a routine. And it was only natural that you latch on to it.

But now it was causing a block in your training. 

“When you’re gone, you miss him, I can feel it, even without trying,” You continue when Mando doesn’t reply. You’ve grown used to that too with his visits. He’s a man of few words. You’ve often wondered if it’s a result of the helmet he wears at all times, or a convenient excuse provided by the helmet to a naturally shy man. 

“Grogu’s the same way when you leave,” You add gently. “I’m a poor substitute for you. And I make him work which he doesn’t like.”

“That’s not true,” Mando protests. “He likes you. I can tell.”

“It’s creating a block. He can’t truly push through his fears when he’s so focused on his attachment to you,” You try to explain to him. You know that he doesn’t understand the force or the way that it works. Whenever you try and explain what you’re teaching Grogu he nods, but you can tell he has many questions. 

You’d be happy to explain what he finds confusing, but he never voices the questions and it’s hard to describe what is often so indescribable about the ways of the force to someone who has no experience with it.

“You want me to stop visiting,” Mando says after a moment.

“No! No, of course not,” You reply quickly. You could never, 

It would seem so impossibly cruel to separate the two. Even though they are not bound by blood. The father and son are inseparable and care for one another more than you’ve ever seen two people bound to one another.

“I think you should take us with you,” You tell him. “Wherever it is you’re going next.”

“My work is dangerous,” He reminds you. 

You know that. You’ve been thinking about this for weeks. Since before his last visit. You know the threats posed to you out in the world. Especially in the sectors of the outer rim where Mando does most of his work. But you’ve weighed the dangers. It’s what’s best for all of you. The risks are worth it.

“You’ve been safe here, protected from the world for a long time, haven’t you?” Mando says.

“I have,” You reply. “But I’m tired of hiding. And I can certainly protect myself and Grogu.”

“Okay,” Mando replies with a nod. 

You’re eyes widen slightly as you study the visor of Mando’s helmet. You hadn’t expected him to acquiesce so quickly. You’d had all sorts of other arguments prepared. Answers to all the potential concerns and questions he might have. 

But you should have realized he wouldn’t protest. He missed his child. His foundling. Of course he would take you with him. 

“You tell Grogu, I’ll pack our things,” You reply with a smile as you stand from your seat and turn back to your small cabin, already cataloging all of the belongings you have, and what you’ll be able to travel with.

[simplykaren]

Thinking about my Starlight series and how Izuku's original quirk should work v. how it'll work now that he has OfA. I don't want to make him obscenely op, and that's the really tricky part.

Little kid Izuku loved to look at quirks, like a nature photographer to AfO's safari hunter collection of trophies. I'd bet the only quirks little Izuku ever took on his own were Kacchan's and Inko's--with permission, of course--and even then he didn't keep them. (He didn't need to actively take many when DfO was sitting right there with a whole hoard of quirks for him to borrow.) They weren't his. They were prettier where they were supposed to be. Like seeing a bird of paradise out in the rainforest instead of in a zoo's cage. Instead of that possessiveness at AfO's core, Izuku instead has a sense of "rightness" or an "appreciation" for quirks. He'd be tempted by quirks that don't sit right with their owners for one reason or another (like Dabi's or Aoyama's, maybe even early Shoto's) or those that don't have a quirk of their own. The Nomu would be a literal eyesore and insult to his quirk's sense of rightness and order.

But as for quirk functionality? I think, with him being so choosey about what quirks he'll willingly take, his quirk...keeps something of them even after returning them. Call it Inko's genetic influence on the quirk. After borrowing Kacchan's Explosion, taking a blast never burned or scarred quite as bad as it did before. Izuku has more of an eye for small details after holding his mother's quirk. Etc. Maybe he can't use the borrowed quirk right away, but the longer he holds onto it, the better it gets, and the more associated/supporting adaptations he develops. (In contrast, AfO's quirk doesn't offer any of those supporting mutations; if he's using a fire quirk, he has to be careful not to burn himself or pair its use with a fire resistance quirk.)

Maybe after OfA...if he holds a quirk long enough, he'd be able to copy it in full, not just the adaptations to use it safely. (And maybe he'd be able to pass those adaptations back with the original quirk for those that don't already have them.)

[dapper-lil-arts]

If Twilight Sparkle had whatsapp 🤣🤣🤣

[anundyingfidelity]

i stole this meme to post it here and laugh at the rightwings 😹🫵

[torncolourfultights]

kimiko miyashiro

[happy74827]

A Smile From Hell

[Homelander x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite the amount of unpredictability The Homelander has, he still catches you off guard with something as small as a smile.

WC: 3576

Category: Angst, Supe!Reader {TW — Homelander for obvi reasons}

In honor of Season 4’s weekly releases, this one is for the Antony Starr girlies (and you @summerrivera777777)

『••✎••』

John fucking terrified you.

He terrified everyone, really.

He had the power to level an entire city block with a glance. He was strong enough to crush a man's skull with one hand and fast enough to catch a bullet. He was an unstoppable force of nature. He was The Homelander, and he was a threat to anyone who stood in his way.

But, the thing was...

You knew everything about him. Everything.

And he absolutely despised that, but there was nothing he could do to change it. You had seen him at his most vulnerable and pathetic. You had seen his humanity, it’s amazing he still has any after the way Vought has abused him, and you had seen his inhumanity.

Jessica, or Sister Sage, had confronted you on several occasions, trying to get you to tell her your secrets. She wanted the upper hand on her arch nemesis, the only one in the world who was a threat to her. It was her mission to end the reign of the superhero she hated most, and she was willing to do anything for it.

You could see right through her, and you didn’t need magnificent amounts of intelligence to do so. You could see the fear in her eyes. You could see the doubt in her face, hear the strain in her voice, feel her uneasiness when she was near him.

John knew it, too. He just simply chose to ignore it. He had grown used to being the scariest man in the room. It’s been that way his whole life, and it seemed it was going to stay that way.

But, despite all that fear, she came to you for answers. Again.

And this time, the question was a simple one. It was so simple, yet completely understandably complicated.

How are you allowed to live?

That was a question that stumped you. It took you a long time to grasp the meaning of it, the specific answer she was looking for.

After a few clarifications, you finally understood what she meant.

She wanted to know why John allowed you to live. She wanted to know why he hadn’t killed you. She wanted to understand why you were the only person alive after calling him by his name.

Not his stage name, his real name.

For being the most intelligent person on the planet, you’d think that she’d be able to understand it. I mean, the answer was right there, in front of her face. She didn't need to be a genius to figure it out; all she needed was a little more insight.

A little bit of understanding.

"Respect," you said, your voice soft. Your words were clear, though, and she heard them perfectly.

The confusion on her face was evident, as was her disbelief.

"What?"

"It's respect. Anyone I respect is someone that deserves my respect."

She snorted.

"Right," she said. "Like he could actually respect anything other than himself."

"He's capable of it if that's what you're thinking," you told her. "And this isn’t about him respecting me; it's about me respecting him."

She narrowed her eyes at you, her suspicion rising.

"Why would you respect him?" she questioned. "You're not blind; you know exactly who he is."

Yes, you did. You knew more than most, and compared to The Seven now, you probably knew the most. His actions? Completely unredeemable. He was, in fact, a monster; there was no arguing that. He was a horrible, twisted, monstrous individual; no one would deny it.

His actions weren’t excusable, but he had an explanation. A reason for why he was the way he was.

He wasn’t born a monster; he was turned into one. That… that was the respect part. You respected him because you respected his story. You respected his pain. You respected his anger.

You respected his past; anything after that was on him.

"I don’t like using stage names to those I respect enough, so I call him John. He allows it because he knows I don’t mean it the way others would if they used his name; it doesn't hold the same power with me."

She rolled her eyes at you.

"Same goes for you, Jessica; I have no desire to call you Sister Sage."

Her flinch was barely visible, but you still caught it. Again, what is intelligence if not knowing the chances of a particular outcome?

"I’ve noticed you don’t call Deep or that fire chick by their real names."

You just smiled, leaving her to solve that answer for herself, and it didn’t take long at all. You knew the exact moment she came up with a conclusion. She was quite predictable, in that regard. Maybe you should’ve been the big-brained hero instead.

And now, you really should’ve been because when you turned down the hall, catching wind of the elevator doors opening, you knew he had listened to it all.

But you didn’t say anything, and you really didn’t say anything after a simple glance at him.

He was completely drenched in blood, a look that would terrify even the toughest of men. But not you, oh no, you were very used to that. He’s done a lot worse.

Besides, you were too distracted by the fact that the blood wasn't his. Too distracted by noticing how this time was different. He was smiling, but it wasn’t his usual cruel smile. This time, it was genuinely happy.

Relief, almost.

It reminded you of the night you two bonded. No, not that type of bond. The bond that told you both that you weren’t alone.

He had a friend, but he wasn’t really your friend. You don’t believe you could ever consider him one. Not really, not with the things he has done.

But, still, you were the closest thing he had to a friend. You were the closest he had to an equal, a person he could relate to. Jessica carried the same intelligence (obviously a lot more), but the similarities between the two of them stopped there.

You had a similar history but different outcomes.

And that reveal between the two of you happened that night. This was way back, even before Starlight joined. Back when The Seven was in its prime.

Stillwell threw a party, something she always loved to do before Teddy became her focus. It was the usual: people in fancy dresses and suits, lots of champagne and liquor.

The difference, however, was the main focal point. Usually, given Vought’s status, all of The Seven members were the main event. Everyone was mandated to wear their hero outfits. It was a great way to advertise and get people to buy more of the products.

The theme this time, however, wasn’t about the group. It wasn’t about any of you. For the first time in a long while, John wasn’t in the spotlight.

Due to this, Stillwell banned everyone from wearing their costumes. No capes, no spandex, no leather, no masks. Just suits and dresses.

It was nice, actually. A little break from the norm. It felt good to go a night without the tight leather on your skin. You were actually surprised at how well it was received.

The rest of the members of the group seemed to be having a wonderful time as well.

Except for one.

He was standing in the corner, glaring at everyone. Madelyn had an entire argument with him about the suit. You weren’t there, but you knew exactly how it went.

His costume was a part of him. It was a symbol. It was a mask. A representation. An embodiment of who he was. Without it, he was a naked target.

Madelyn clearly did not give a single shit. In the end, the argument resulted in the two of them getting into a screaming match, causing him to storm off in a fit of rage.

So, there he was, standing alone, seething at anyone who passed him. Madelyn won; of course, she did, and she didn't even bother trying to apologize. She wasn't sorry.

She was just mad that he refused to listen in the first place.

But, hey, that wasn’t your problem. You were enjoying yourself. The night was going pretty well; the alcohol was flowing nicely, and the music was just right. You were dancing and laughing and having a great time.

But, of course, things weren't always easy for you.

You weren’t expecting it to last long; you weren’t one to have good luck. You knew, deep down, that the night was going to come crashing down on you. You were just waiting for the ball to drop.

The ball dropped the moment you decided to go cheer up the sourpuss.

It was obvious the way his shoulders tensed, and his head tilted ever so slightly. He knew you were approaching. He was aware.

"Don't," he said.

He was clearly angry, and you weren’t smart enough not to push. This is where Jessica’s powers would have benefited you greatly.

You ignored his warning, walking up beside him, mocking his stance.

"You okay?" you asked, your tone soft and light, a hint of playfulness.

His eyes flicked over to you, and the glare he gave was terrifying. His eyes were so intense, and his teeth were clenched. You could see his jaw tensing.

He was a volcano, ready to erupt.

You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

"I'm fine." Humorously enough, it sounded like the opposite.

"Really?"

He turned his head to look at you, his anger increasing by the second.

"Don’t you have anything better to do?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm choosing to talk to you."

He looked away from you, grumbling, "And why's that?"

"Because you’re ruining the party," you answered. "Miserable face and all."

He rolled his eyes. He actually does this a lot, believe it or not. It's the only expression he has besides anger that isn’t fake.

"And why do you care?"

You shrugged again. "I care about enjoying myself, and I can't do that when you're moping."

He turned his head towards you. He was not amused.

"Go find someone else to entertain yourself with.” He pointed behind him. "I’m sure Deep will be glad to show off his fish facts."

That one caused you to make the same face he had moments ago. The absolute look of disgust on your face was enough to bring a smug grin to his own.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Don't make me throw up, John."

The name.

It was a simple slip-up, nothing more. But, of course, it meant so much more. This was before everything, so it doesn’t seem likely that a slip-up like that wouldn’t result in consequences, but it secretly was a turning point.

He could've killed you.

He could've easily grabbed you and thrown you across the room, and no one would be able to comprehend what had happened until after you were unrecognizable.

He didn't, though.

No, instead, he stared at you, his face blank, and his mind processing. You were nervous, of course. You had no idea what was going on in his head.

After a minute, a look of realization came upon him, and you could see the exact moment the gears started turning.

Then, a simple hum fell from his lips. One said he wasn’t expecting it but was deciding whether to accept it.

Then, after a few seconds, his face relaxed. His jaw was unclenched, his eyes softened, and his eyebrows relaxed.

"Let’s have a chat."

Uh oh. That’s a code red—a sign of danger.

You were so done.

And yet, for some odd reason, you followed him. You don’t know why. It was a stupid move, in your opinion. You should've run while you had the chance. You should’ve listened and just punched fishlips or something.

You didn’t, though.

You followed him, allowed him to fly you somewhere private, and just waited. You waited for your imminent doom. You were going to die; you were sure of it.

But, for some reason, your death never came.

Instead, the two of you landed on the tower’s roof, the cold New York air hitting you hard. He had set you down on your feet and went all the way to the railing.

You stood awkwardly, waiting for him to turn around with those beams in his eyes, but they never came.

He was just looking out into the city, his back turned to you, his hands on the railing.

After a few minutes of silence, he turned his head, looking at you through the corner of his eye.

"Aren't you going to ask?"

Ask what? What was there to ask?

There were plenty of things to ask, actually, and yet you had no idea what the right thing to ask was. Because, again, even here, he was unpredictable and unreadable.

You didn't want to anger him; you knew that for sure. But you were also tired of his mind games. It was a constant battle of wit, and you were sick and tired of being left in the dust.

So, you chose something simple to say. Something easy, yet not so simple to answer.

"Are you going to kill me?"

You wouldn’t be surprised if he turned around with a smile and answered yes.

He didn’t, though. Oh no, he stayed turned, staring into the city, his eyes searching. Searching for what you didn't know.

"No."

Simple and clear.

You didn't respond, and he didn't elaborate. It was silent, and it was cold, and it was a tense moment.

But you didn't leave. You just watched him, watched his movements. The way his shoulders hunched over, his head tilting down, the grips on the railing, the way his hair slowly became unstuck due to the wind.

You always thought his hair looked better when it wasn't slicked back, but this is the first time you've ever seen it that way. It was… it was nice.

Then, his shoulders relaxed, and his head straightened. He didn’t turn around, and he didn’t speak. He just looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes piercing yours.

Even with a few strands of hair on his face, his eyes were so sharp and clear. So blue. So cold.

It felt like they were reaching deep into your soul.

It was terrifying. He was terrifying.

"Do you remember your parents?"

The question took you by surprise. It wasn’t what you were expecting, but then again, this whole encounter was the definition of unexpected.

"Yes. Why?"

His eyes scanned yours as if looking for a lie. Then, he turned back around, leaning on the railing.

"I can't remember mine," he said. "Sometimes I wonder if I even had them."

Oh. Oh. This was huge. This was a big one. You had to search deeply even to find out his actual name. Now, here he was, telling you of his past.

Of all people, he chose to tell you.

You didn’t know how to feel about that.

You were honored, yes. You were excited, definitely. But, most importantly, you were worried. Is this him letting you in? Or is it him preparing you for your demise?

It was an unknown territory, a field of landmines. You knew a lot about his past already, but now he was aware of the fact that you knew. He knows, and yet he is still giving you the information.

Why?

"I mean, it doesn't make sense. Everyone has parents, right? And I couldn't have been born out of nowhere. So, I must have had parents. A mom, a dad, some form of guardians."

His face was scrunched, and his eyebrows were furrowed. You could see the way his brain was working. He was really thinking about it, wondering how the pieces fit together.

He was struggling to make a connection, and he was mad at himself for not having it.

"I'm assuming your childhood wasn't the best," you said. You knew it was a risky move, joking about his past, but so far, he seemed to like the boldness and humor.

And he did, in fact, let out a snort.

"Understatement of the year."

You smiled but quickly stopped. It was a serious conversation, and smiling probably wasn’t the appropriate reaction.

Silence filled the space again, and he was back to thinking. He was trying; he was really trying. But he just couldn't.

It wasn't the fact that his parents were a mystery; he's come to terms with that. It was the fact that he couldn’t remember anything.

All he remembered was the torture, the pain, the experiments… nothing about how he got there. Nothing about the people before the scientists. Nothing about a home. And the fact that they were currently building a fake one for him made him so angry.

It was a mockery—a complete joke.

He felt all of these emotions and yet couldn't express them.

And he was frustrated. He was pissed off and tired and angry and sad and empty and-

"Did you rip off your tie?" Your eyes had caught sight of his bare neck, the black fabric missing.

It was the only way to pull him out of his head, and, to your surprise, it worked. You could see the moment he snapped back to reality, the moment he was pulled away from his mind.

"Yeah," he answered. "It was suffocating me."

You could tell.

His hair became more unkempt due to the wind. The strands of hair on his forehead were getting in the way, and it was getting annoying. Not for you, no, but for him.

For you, it was… humanizing. It made him seem a little less like a god.

He lifted his hand, his fingers gently combing through the locks. It was a struggle, a normal struggle that you've had with your own hair.

Plenty struggle with deviating the locks away from their desired location. You've had your own fair share of moments.

But this was the first time you'd seen him experience it. The first time witnessing him do something so simple and basic.

Such a human thing. It had you wondering what else he was capable of.

He sighed, his hand dropping back to the railing. Again, it is a normal thing to happen. But, it had you smiling, the corners of your mouth curving ever so slightly.

The action did not go unnoticed.

"What?" he asked, not even bothering to turn around.

You shrugged. "I've just never…"

Your mind kept changing images. His hair, his eyes, his shoulders, his jaw, his nose, his ears, his neck, his hand, his lips, his chin, his cheekbones, his eyebrows, his skin…

Everything is listed in your mind, including the little imperfections and details that make him, well, him. This was the first time you saw him anything other than perfect.

The perfect monster he was, the god of all men. The man of the century, the one to take the world by storm. The strongest, the smartest, the best.

The symbol, the image, the mask.

The facade.

This was the first time you saw him as just a person. A human being. Just a regular guy.

"Sometimes I wonder how different life would be if you were…"

Normal.

The word was at the tip of your tongue. You could've said it; you should've said it. It was the truth. It was obvious.

But you couldn't.

He knew where your sentence was going, though. Of course, he did.

"If I was… what?" He still wanted to hear it. He was looking for validation, and he wanted it from you. His eyes were on you, his body turned, but there was this one odd thing.

A smile.

It wasn't his usual one. The one you were used to. The one that made everyone scared and uneasy. No, this was a real smile.

A soft, small one, but still a real smile.

A true smile. As if he knew the words you were going to say, as if he knew your thoughts, and he found them amusing.

You found him amusing.

And just because of that, you didn’t give him the validation.

"It’s fucking freezing out here," You coughed in hopes of successfully changing the subject. "I’m gonna get a jacket."

He was going to argue, but you were already walking off, telling him you’d take the emergency ladder down.

Nothing was spoken about that night. No words were exchanged.

But something had changed. Something had shifted. You weren’t quite sure what it was, but it was something.

So, seeing that genuine smile again in that elevator was a shock.

He had the same face as he did on that roof. It was that smile. That one specific smile.

Capable.

That's what it was.

He was capable.

He was capable of feeling and being human. He was capable of being something other than a monster.

He was capable.

All he said to you when you walked by was a simple goodnight. Something so small, yet so big. This time, those words seemed to have a little more meaning.

So, just to raise his unsettling mood, you winked and said, "Goodnight, John."

Again, a smile.

The smile.

It was hard to continue walking, and it was even harder not to turn around. But you did.

You did it knowing you were going to have a hard time sleeping. Knowing that, no matter what, you weren’t going to forget that smile.

The demon that still had a little bit of humanity in him.

A demon that was capable.

[captainzigo]

presented without comment

[pommancy]

On the first day of Starlight, Rielle and Sid visited the Jeweled Crozier

[squidflavoredsoup]

STARLIGHT PONYY

[mellowmusings]

Blessed mistakes | part 1 Azriel x reader

prologue part2

A/N—I wasn't even going to continue this series, but thank you all for the love I get on my fics. I literally love you all so much. Let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list. Summary- After over 5 centuries of waiting Azriel hasn't found his mate, given up all hope of any chance of finding her he decides to start pursuing Elain, not seeing what was in front of him all along.

Part One: Silent Distance

The days had become quieter, colder. Azriel had hardly noticed the shift at first. There had been no sharp, clear break, no moment of realization that something between him and Y/N had changed. It was more like the subtle dimming of light, a slow fading that he couldn't quite place, and by the time he realized the distance, it felt too late to fix.

He was busy. Always busy. Missions, meetings, responsibilities—his life had become a blur of endless duties, all of which he threw himself into with a fervor that bordered on obsession. Every waking moment was occupied with something—someone. His brothers, his work, and, in the rare quiet moments, the heavy weight of his own thoughts.

But through all of that, there had been Y/N. Always there. Always steady. Always understanding. She had been his anchor, his confidante. She always knew when to stay silent, when to speak, when to pull him out of his head and into the present. He had always relied on her in ways he hadn’t even fully understood.

It wasn’t that Azriel didn’t care. He did. More than he could admit, especially to himself. But there were things he couldn’t change—things like his duties and his... impossible feelings. Feelings for someone who would never see him the way he saw her. And that someone was always there, too, always lingering just outside of his reach. It was easier, in some ways, to focus on the work, to throw himself into the mission, to avoid the vulnerability of his own emotions.

And so, he did.

Y/N had stopped coming around as often. She was still there, in the background, but it was clear she wasn’t the same. She didn’t linger after meetings anymore. She didn’t tease him, didn’t joke like she used to. Her presence, once a constant comfort, had become a quiet thing—distant, even when she was standing right next to him. She seemed to slip away, a little more each day, but Azriel didn’t notice, not at first.

It wasn’t until he found himself in the war room late one evening, alone with his thoughts, that he felt it. The absence. The silence in the air that was too thick, too suffocating. He looked up from the maps strewn across the table, expecting to see Y/N by the door or leaning against the wall, ready to offer some lighthearted comment about how the plan was absurd. But she wasn’t there.

He frowned, a small pang of unease flaring in his chest. He hadn’t seen her much lately, had barely spoken to her in the last few days. Busy, he reminded himself. He was busy, after all. But it didn’t sit right.

Azriel left the war room in search of her, making his way down the familiar corridors of the House of Wind. He passed Mor’s room first, saw the flicker of light under the door, and for a moment, the idea of knocking—of spending time with her—felt... comforting. But he didn’t. He couldn’t focus on that right now.

Finally, he found her. Y/N was sitting alone in the garden, her back to him, staring out at the moonlit horizon. She looked so small, like a silhouette against the night. It struck him, in that moment, how much he missed her presence. How long had it been since they’d shared a quiet evening like this, just the two of them? How long had it been since she’d smiled like she meant it?

"Y/N?" His voice was tentative, unsure, as though he wasn’t sure if he should disturb the quiet of the night.

She turned slightly, just enough for him to see her face. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but she blinked quickly, brushing it off. "I didn’t hear you come in," she said, her voice flat.

He frowned, taking a few steps toward her. "Are you alright?"

"I’m fine," she said quickly, her smile tight and forced. It didn’t reach her eyes. "Just needed some space."

Azriel hesitated, his instincts telling him that something was wrong. He knelt down beside her, his eyes searching her face. "Y/N..." He trailed off, unsure of how to push through the wall she’d built between them. "What’s going on?"

She met his gaze, her lips pressed together in a thin line. The silence stretched between them, heavy and thick, before she finally spoke, her voice low. "I’m not sure I belong here anymore, Az."

His chest tightened at her words, but he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t find the words. She wasn’t the one to pull away, not like this. Not so... cold.

"You’re still my friend, Y/N," he finally said, his voice low, almost too soft.

She nodded, her expression unreadable. "I know. But that’s the thing, Az. I’m just... a friend." The words hung in the air between them like a curse.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The weight of the unspoken truth crashed over him. Y/N had always been more than a friend to him, but he had never been able to show her that. She had never been anything more than a shadow behind the love he couldn’t admit, a shadow he had taken for granted.

"I’ve been thinking," she continued, her voice trembling just slightly, but her gaze remained steady. "I need to leave for a while. I volunteered for diplomatic work—there’s a mission to the Autumn Court. I’ll be gone for some time."

Azriel blinked, surprised, and instinctively reached out for her arm. "What? No, Y/N. You don’t have to go. You don’t need to leave."

But her eyes were already averted, a distance between them that he couldn’t cross. "I think I do, Az. I think I need to get away from here. From you."

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. She didn’t wait for him to respond, didn’t wait for him to make things right, because she knew that things couldn’t be fixed. Not anymore.

"I’ll be gone in a few days," she said quietly, standing up, brushing the dirt off her clothes. "I hope you’ll be... alright."

Azriel watched her walk away, his heart sinking lower with each step she took. She didn’t look back, didn’t wait for him to say anything else. And as she disappeared into the darkness of the hall, Azriel finally felt it. The sting of something lost. The realization that he had been too blind to see it, too focused on his own distractions to notice what had been right in front of him all along. taglist- @anarchiii @er1023 @clementine111002 @sunnyspycat

[acomaflove]

Night Court Tweets

Rhysand:

Feyre:

Cassian:

Nesta:

Elain:

Azriel:

Morrigan:

Amren:

[peterpparkrr]

Starlight (Pt. 2)

Series: Starlight

Pairing: Din Djarin x Jedi!Reader

Summary: You begin your travels with the Mandalorian.

A/N: I still believe that they blew up the Razor Crest in s2 because ppl were being too horny about it which is why I refuse to write in a universe where Din flies the new ship. How is he supposed to fuck in a one-seater???

You’d never been inside the Razor Crest before. You’d seen its exterior plenty of times, from a distance, but your familiarity stopped at the door. You took in its humble interior, the bare necessities. Mando leads you up the ladder to the cockpit and you set Grogu in your lap as you strapped yourself into the passenger seat.

You were tired of hiding. Of being alone. Grogu’s presence had made you keenly, painfully, aware of how it feels to be alone in the universe. 

But you’re not sure why you decided to ask this man of all people. No, that’s not true. You know why you asked him. You saw the way that Grogu was with him. The memories Grogu had shared with you as you’d grown closer had made one thing crystal clear. 

The Mandalorian would stop at nothing to protect Grogu. 

And that knowledge heartened you. You knew you would be safe with him. 

You’re all quiet as Mando takes off and you fly into space.

It’s all a bit overwhelming if you’re being completely honest. You feel like a child. Like you’ve never seen space before. Which isn’t true, but it’s been so long that you’d forgotten how it feels.

When Mando puts the ship into hyperdrive you gasp.

Mando’s head turns sharply to look at you. 

“We used to travel all the time, when I was a padawan, before the empire,” You explain as you continue to stare out in wonder. “But I’d forgotten…”

“Sit here,” Mando says as he stands from the chair.

Your eyes flicker to him for a moment. You hesitate as you glance at the pilot’s seat he’d vacated.

“We’re on autopilot in lightspeed,” Mando assures you when he sees you hesitate. “Sit,” He repeats.

You nod as you pull Grogu back into your arms and stand before shuffling awkwardly into the small space of the cockpit and taking the seat.

You sit in front of the windshield, your eyes wide as you stare out in unabashed wonder. Sitting in the pilot seat the windows surround you and movement through space surrounds you on all sides.

It’s perfect. 

Grogu seems to love it too. Or at least, appreciates your excitement as he coos happily. You finally pull your gaze away to smile down at Grogu.

Grogu reaches his arms out in the direction of his father and you happily pass him into Mando’s open arms. 

“Thank you,” You tell him as you look at him. Hoping your appreciation is clear on your face.

“I have a few bounties to pick up,” Mando tells you.

“Okay,” You reply. “Where are we starting?”

“I,” He emphasizes before he answers your question. “Need to go to Corellia. Then Tatooine.”

“Okay,” You reply.

“You won’t be able to leave the ship when we land on Corellia, it’s not safe. But Tatooine will be okay, you can explore a little.”

“Grogu and I will be just fine here on the ship,” You tell him with a nod. “Won’t we, Grogu?” You add as you look down at Grogu from where he’s sat in Mando’s lap. 

Grogu coos happily aloud.

Explore. 

He communicates to you through the force.

“Exactly, we’ll explore the Razor Crest,” You reply aloud so that Mando can get at least part of the conversation. Normally you wouldn’t need to speak to communicate with Grogu, but you figure it would be rude to leave Mando out. 

“Just leave the weapons cabinet locked,” Mando replies. “And don’t let him out of your sight.”

You want to be defensive, offended by the notion that you would put Grogu in danger. You’ve been caring for the child for months without issue - well, without any major issues. But something in Mando’s tone makes you think it’s less to do with you and more to do with Grogu’s penchant for getting himself into trouble. 

“Of course,” You reply with a nod.

The moment you land on Corellia, Mando disappears. He parks the ship in a hangar and repeats everything he said before about staying on the ship and not doing anything dangerous.

You open your mouth to remind him that you were trained as a Jedi but think better of it and hold your tongue. 

He pauses to say goodbye to Grogu and to tell you he’ll be back with the bounty in the next 36 hours.

You and Grogu pass the time with training. It’s easy to lose track of time while meditating but Grogu doesn’t have the patience for it so you can’t get any actual meditation done unless he’s sleeping or playing somewhere you don’t need to watch him so closely. 

You play games. Passing small toys back and forth using the force or chasing him around the cargo bay of the ship. A game of hide and seek goes on for hours even though Grogu never wants to be the seeker.

Grogu’s asleep in his cradle with Mando returns. 

You’re sitting on a box of cargo enjoying the piece of quiet when the airlock opens and your eyes snap open and you silently slip down from your seat and move back towards the wall of the ship.

It’s only been eleven hours since Mando left.

The bounty is still conscious as Mando drags him up the ramp and into the cargo hold.

You stand in the shadows of the bay, your back pressed against the hull of the ship. 

“Oh hello there,” The bounty greets you, causing Mando’s attention to snap to where you’re partially obscured from view. “Who are you?” The man asks with a wicked grin.

You know better than to reply. Simply staying where you are as your eyes silently track his movements. Not that he’ll get even close to you before Mando intervenes.

“I always had a feeling you Mandalorians were secretly freaky,” The man says with a glance over his shoulder at Mando. “You keep a little concubine on your ship? She’s just waiting for you to get back, isn’t she? Ready and willing? She certainly looks soft. Pliant. Do you ever let someone-”

The bounty’s taunting is cut off by their garbled shriek as Mando suddenly grabs him by the shoulders and pushes him into the cryo-freeze roughly before the blast of the chamber goes off.

You both wait for the machine to finish and stand in the silence of the ship for a moment before Mando turns around to face you.

“I’m-” Mando starts.

“It’s alright,” You tell Mando quickly. You step out from behind the cargo to step closer to him. “I knew he couldn’t hurt me. Not with you right there.”

“Right,” Mando’s voice comes through his vocoder roughly. “I’m sorry you had to hear those things. I would never…”

A huff of laughter burst from your throat.

“We both know I’m not your mistress,” You tell him with a small smile. “I’m not too concerned with the opinions of a criminal who is now frozen into a slab of carbon.”

“Good,” Mando replies with a nod.

“I’ll go chart our course to Tatooine,” He adds. “If you want to watch us take off.”

“I’d love to,” You reply with a grin. “I’ll see if Grogu is awake.”

You open the door to the cot to find Grogu awake and eagerly cooing at you from his cradle. 

“Your dad’s back,” You tell him softly. “We get to go back into space now.”

You pick him up as he coos and makes grabby hands upward so you carry him up to the cockpit.

The two of you quietly watch as Mando maneuvers out of the hangar and into the atmosphere.

The jump into hyperspace is less jarring for you this time, but equally delightful and you sit contently to watch the stars stream past you. 

Eventually, Grogu falls back asleep and you slowly stand up to take him back downstairs to sleep again.

Once he’s tucked back into his cradle you decide to stay down in the cargo hold and explore the rest of the ship more closely. This is the place that’s going to be your home now so you decide to get properly familiar with the space. 

You don’t even consider that this might be invasive until you press a button that opens up Mando’s weapons storage. 

You’re not surprised. Even when he had come to see you he’d been laddened down with as many weapons as he could strap to himself. It’s what you first noticed about him when he’d come looking for you. There was no chance to consider speaking first when someone comes looking for you covered in that much weaponry.

And he has a whole host of specialty blasters and other weapons in storage. They must be worth a small fortune which is crazy considering how many concerning noises you’ve heard the Razor Crest make since you’ve taken off.

You almost miss the small black hilt in the corner of the cache. 

But you sense it even as your eyes nearly pass right over it. 

You pull it out of its place before you can help yourself. Just like you ignite it before you can think better of it. 

You gasp when you see the black blade that extends itself out.

“What are you doing?” Mando’s voice cuts through your now-racing thoughts. 

You quickly extinguish the blade and turn around.

“Where did you get this?” You ask him. You try not to sound angry. And mostly you don’t, it’s almost all confusion. You know what this is. At least. You’re nearly certain you do. You’ve never seen it before. 

Obviously. 

But you’ve heard many stories about the Darksaber. “I won it,” Mando replies plainly. As if you’re just holding a normal blaster. Not a mythological weapon.

“I’m sorry,” You reply. Shaking your head from one side to the other in disbelief. “You’re the wielder of the Darksaber?” “I don’t want it,” He replies. 

As if that means anything. “But it is yours,” You protest. “You’re the rightful ruler of Mandalore?” You ask as you look down at the saber still held in your hand. 

You push it into his own hands, watching as he hooks it onto a loop on his waist that you hadn’t noticed before, hidden among his armor and cape.

“Who are you, Mando?” You ask, your brows furrowed as you study him curiously. A small smile turns up the corner of your mouth as you look at him in mild amusement. 

It really is a true wonder that you’ve found each other.

“Din,” Mando’s voice replies after a moment. “My name is Din Djarin.”

[simplykaren]

I just read your dfo series where Deku gets afo and I was wondering if you're planning on writing anything more for thay series? I think its really cool!!1!!!!

Yep! I actually have the next part of The Terrible Truth done (still debating whether to split TTT into 2 parts or 3; leaning towards 2 currently) and undergoing edits for next weekend. After that? Depends on my muse.

[dapper-lil-arts]

What if the school councelor had whatsapp 😎

[anundyingfidelity]

me when 'the boys' pull up the most disgusting, grotesque and bizarrely exaggerating scene ever on screen for parody, satire or social criticism purposes (or just because, idgaf):

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Madja: As a healer, you need to sleep more.

Azriel: No.

Madja: The last patient who didn't sleep more after I suggested it died.

Azriel: Oh my gods

Madja: In an assassination.

Azriel: That sounds unrelated.

Madja: I'm the one who murdered him. Do not disobey me.