#thank you for the ask!!!! idk if im ever gonna finish actually writing this fic but the au lives rent free in my head

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

Hi hello I watched all of carmilla in a weekend when I was 17 because a student teacher who in retrospect I had a bit of a crush on mentioned that she knew one of the actresses. also I am pretty invested in all your recent vampire stuff because I watched iwtv in 2 days last week because your edit intrigued me

oh hiiii 🫶 thank you for indulging me. thats so cool that you watched iwtv! did it live up to the expectation?

i also watched carmilla at 17! or like, 17-19. i found it when s2 had just started and followed it to the end. did something permanent to my brain but i think it was a good thing. on rewatch now im like, i was right to like this. like it's a solid show, it's good. it has its flaws obviously but it's well written, the emotional moments still get me, i can see why i liked it and i still like it now even when it's not anymore, you know, meeting every need that baby gay me didnt even know they had

what it doesnt reaallyy do though - i dont remember if i posted abt this or if i left it in my drafts but - is explore vampirism as a concept. their subject matter is more lesbianism than vampirism. which is great! thats what they wanted to do and they did it and it's very good. but reading interview with the vampire the book rn im realising how much potential vampires have to be metaphors for like so many things and i started wondering like 'wait, did carmilla just not really engage with it or did it all go over my head'. but it just didnt really engage with it all that much. which again is fine bc that wasnt what they were doing. im glad they were more about the lesbianism than the vampirism

but there's this interesting difference in framing, because in iwtv they keep calling armand 'ancient' right? and emphasising how old he is. and he's like 500? and i was like 'wait isnt carmilla like 400?'. she isnt, shes 340, but still, thats getting there, you know? and we know quite a lot about her history, but kind of just the Big Events. when she was turned, the events of the novella, coffin of blood, silas. thats sort of what we know. but none of the long lonely slog of history day to day you know? with armand i feel like we can really feel how much time everything takes. how every one of those years is made up of single days. with carmilla i dont feel that as much. i keep kind of thinking about daniel, when louis calls him a boy in the first episode, saying "im an old man, with all the triggers that come with it"

because carmilla might look 18 (or mid twenties at this point) but she has lived all that time. shes also seen her native land be claimed by like a succession of ruling powers, right? like armand. shes been buried alive, like louis. when lestat is born, shes already 80 years old, shes lived a whole human lifetime, and the entire adult part of it shes been a vampire. shes lived through 1680-1870 being a lure. i compared her to abigail hobbs in some tags on a post, i dont know if youre familiar with hannibal the tv show, but i do also kinda keep thinking about that comparison

if youre not familiar, in the first episode of hannibal the murderer of the week is this guy garrett jacob hobbs who kills and cannibalises girls who resemble his daughter. and later on it turns out she was made to be his lure. like they'd go places and he'd sent her to the victims to make friends and maybe get them back to their home or smth. not sure if they specified all the details. but that's what carmilla did for mother. and in s2 we hear from mattie that while every couple of decades carmilla had to lure victims for the fish god, she also seemed to just enjoy humans between those times, right? like the doctor, gets lonely, gets a new companion. but we've only sort of got mattie's mocking word for it ("dont eat him, hes a poet! or her, shes got such a wonderful voice. or that one, shes just too pretty to ruin"), we don't know exactly from carmilla's point of view what she was doing or why. if mattie's talking about stuff that happened after the blood coffin, 1950-now, then i think it's a fair assumption based on what carmilla says in the s1 sock puppet show that after she'd figured out what the real situation was and what her role in it was, when she'd started trying to save girls from being sacrificed, that she mightve been doing the same trying to save people from becoming mattie's victims. it's probably more likely that she was just trying to find excuses to stop mattie from sucking someone dry rather than actually having like an aesthetic based morality. but it might be a bit of both. im still trying to figure out what her philosophy actually is, like i dont know what existentialism actually means ghkfjghkj but i will

i also found it pretty striking in the movie when shes turning back into a vampire she says like "this was supposed to be done, you know? the blood lust, the self-loathing, the sleeping tied to a chair in my own bedroom". thats what defines her vampirism, wanting blood and hating yourself for it (the third part is a joke/reference to s1 but also i think meaningful for how she sees her relationship with laura when she IS a vampire. little bit of that 'she will reject me for my monstrousness' shining through). and thats what defines vampirism for lots of vampires across the genre obviously, but i dont know, it struck me. we dont get a lot from carmilla's pov, we know a fair amount about her, but the story is always told through laura. we get laura's diaries, but just snippets here and there from carmilla, what shes thinking, how shes feeling

and i love that shes a philosopher. i love that thats how she seems to try and find something to hold onto, in a world that kind of moves around her, having been murdered, kidnapped, turned and groomed to be a lure on the cusp of adulthood, never having been properly loved (the relationship with her father wasnt good she says in s3, and her mortal mother i dont think has ever been mentioned (like laura's)). the only good relationship she seems to have had for the better part of 3 centuries seems to have been mattie, and mattie seems to love being a vampire. i can imagine carmilla just sort of going along with anything mattie wants to do just because shes so desperate for that friendship. not like, against her will necessarily really. but more like, she hasnt even had the space to develop her own will, you know? and philosophy lets you do that. philosophy gives you frameworks to understand the world and to develop your own opinions on it. and by the 21st century she seems to have developed those opinions, she has a sense of her own values, but shes also still stuck in that same situation. shes jaded and cynical in the face of laura's optimism and strong moral code a lot of the time in s1 because she feels probably pretty powerless. like she does what she can to save some girls but at the end of the day shes scared of her mother and she has nowhere else to go really, right?

i like how she grapples with that over the course of the series, in tandem with laura grappling with her black and white morality. she sort of jumps ship from her mother to laura bc theyve fallen in love, but then laura still stuck in her hero thinking refuses to see her monstrous side. not literally bc i think the biological vampirism never seemed to be a problem for laura, but morally. the having murdered. carmilla needs laura to see that and love her while seeing it bc the last girl she loved rejected her for being a vampire.

but you see her kind of swing back and forth in s2. she softens first with laura but then they break up and she leans back hard into the sarcastic cynic defense mechanisms, leans hard into "im a monster, dont expect heroism from me". but thats like, it's sort of learned helplessness i think. it's powerlessness, resignation. bc morally shes not a monster. maybe she doesnt have as strong a drive to help other people as laura does and is a little more selfishly hedonistic in that she just wants to enjoy her/their life, but she doesnt hurt people for fun, she never has. she just sort of didnt have another option for a Really long time. so she pretends she doesnt care. "im a vampire, this is what i do, this is who i am". but clearly from the way she talks about it when she turns back into one, she doesnt enjoy it

and i like how she goes even further in s3, where she starts swinging even more to the heroic side, bc she sees hope. shes like "wow if we kill my mother, i'd be free". theres hope and she becomes like a lot more active. and shes like that at the start of the movie too, a lot happier, a lot more relaxed, and then vampirism is back and bam depression gfhgkjh like shes immediately more gloomy, ashamed of her past and her self, retreats into herself

sorry i just took this as an opportunity to dump all the carmilla thoughts floating in my head on you. you didnt ask fhkghgjh consider this an open invitation to you or anyone else to come talk to me about carmilla

[glitter-lisp]

If you’re still doing this game, I am highly curious about ‘Make Ariana A Grizzled Lady Cop NOW.’

Also, more Batgene sounds wonderful. I adore how you write Team Awesome and esp Eugene.

Love your work <3

ahhhh absolutely!! once again dropping this one under a cut for dead dove omegaverse content, non-graphic discussion of nonconsensual drug use, kidnapping, and csa under the cut (think svu or criminal minds levels of "holy shit??")

okay SO the basic premise: like every grizzled female detective in a crime procedural, ariana has to have a dark tragic backstory. the backstory in question here is that her daughter was kidnapped as a baby and she and her mate broke up a few years later when fred was like we need to accept that she's gone and ari said fuck you no she's not and im gonna become a grizzled female detective about it.

cut to about 15 years later: ariana and her partner get called to the hospital, because someone just dropped off an omega who appears to have overdosed on heat inducers. unpleasant anyways, and made worse by the fact that the omega in question is a literal child who's young enough that he shouldn't have even presented yet, and who DEFINITELY shouldn't be taking inducers

he tells them his name is varian and he's twelve and he needs to go home because his alpha will be mad that varian left without permission, and when they ask if he knows how he got to the hospital, he says he doesn't remember coming here but maybe his big brother eugene brought him?

anyways turns out they just uncovered a trafficking ring, eugene's an older omega who's been owned by the same dude since he was a kid and powered through an alpha command to sneak varian off to the hospital after their alpha gave him too many inducers (again) which made him so sick (again) that he nearly beefed it (first time). ariana and adira follow what little varian's able to tell them to track down the guy running the ring and find eugene, and from there manage to take down a ton of other freaky bad dudes and start finding kids and solving disappearances going back decades, including ~maybe arianas daughter~

im not normal so their alpha is the baron who just calls eugene his nephew to try to throw the cops off his scent about why this unrelated young omega lives with him

and anyways after that it's all fluff and angst and recovery and trying to reunite kids with their families and then it's more angst teehee

[no-droids]

Another Rough Day

gif credit @chrishemsworht

Part Twenty of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 13.7K

Warnings: Angst, violence, canon-typical blood and gore, language, hurt/comfort

A/N: i wanna thank yall for sticking around during my hermit era, in the time ive been gone i am now officially a junior at a university majoring in aerospace and it’s a fuckin nightmare and i hate everything and god help us all literally kill me and I will be posting INCREDIBLY slowly because of that (I’m talkin weeks or months in between updates yall, im sorry I can’t dedicate more time to this but I am going to finish this fic within the next handful of chapters idk maybe 5 or 6 so you shouldn’t have to wait too too long).  As a heads up there will be hard angst as we enter the final arc, there will be hurt and it’ll get dark but everything is gonna turn out alright so thanks for sticking with me and continuing to stick with me. im sorry if you dont like it or your expectations were subverted or if this isn’t what you’d hoped it would be after following and waiting around for so long but this was planned a long time ago and it took me a good year or two to recognize that I started writing this fic for me and now I’m going to end it writing for me and I hope yall can respect that

ALSO I asked my best BEST FRIEND in the entire world @cptnbvcks to collaborate with me for this after we both took a very long break from creating and she drew some GORGEOUS artwork for this chapter so it will be posted at the end, everyone please go follow her and say hello

ps brittany girl you’re a fuckin menace i had to use my own two ears and listen to ethan literally say the words “the mandalorian cums, hard” what the fuck was that im actually suing

anyways chapter below the cut lets get serious yall

---

You take two of them down before they even realize they’re being attacked.

Your aim is as swift and steady as if Din were behind your shoulder right now, calmly pointing out which stationary tree to hit next in rapid succession.  You’re positioned perfectly at the bottom of the ramp to take full advantage of the ambush, the only thing running through your mind is strategy and the constant calculating of angles and ricochets.  The other three troopers are trapped inside the open Crest and you’re right next to a large boulder that you can step behind for cover, but it proves unnecessary as the rumors were apparently true.

They’re… awful.

Not a single blaster is even fired in your direction—you think you see maybe one panicked red shot bounce around in the hull, but that’s it.  The troopers fumble for their guns and trip over each other at the unexpected attack—a few scream like children through the modulators, but you’re temporarily deaf to anything besides the screech of your weapon hitting its target and the crumpling of armored bodies.

Later on, if someone were to ask you to describe exactly what happened—who died first, who ran for cover, who cried out for help—you don’t think you’d be able to.  You don’t even really feel like a person right now.  The entire thing is cold, robotic survival instinct, pure ruthlessness rising in your soul for the first time in your life.  It feels sick.  Wrong in your bones.  Born from preemptive defense in fear of your life, but that doesn’t mean you stop.  Not until all of them stop moving.

You empty the entire fucking canister for a handful of stormtroopers, firing plasma and char marks across every square inch of the pristine hull even after the last one drops.  Your heart is beating too fast, your finger keeps pulling the trigger multiple times even after the blaster clicks uselessly, completely empty and beeping a warning that it must’ve begun emitting ages ago.  Being out of ammo scares you—you suddenly feel vulnerable, even though the very far away logical part of your mind reminds you that they have to all be dead at this point and no physical threat was ever able to graze you.

Regardless, you quickly spin behind the boulder and grab another canister from your belt, giving it a spare check for leaks while the empty one slides and drops to the rocky ground.  It’s the first time you’ve ever had to reload this weapon instead of just pointing and shooting, but the mechanics are relatively simple and your brain makes up for your lack of coherent thoughts with lightning fast perception.  What's difficult is that your hands are starting to shake now that you’re not aiming, you’re not breathing correctly because you’re not really breathing at all.  You can’t tell the difference between the adrenaline-fueled dissociative silence that muffles everything around you or if it really is just that quiet now.  No more clatter of armor, no modulated voices or terrified screams.  No blasters, no footsteps along the ramp, no birds singing.

You quickly pause to lift your elbow and check the enormous eyes blinking up at you, tiny claws still holding tight to the fabric of your tunic and completely unharmed, and then you force yourself to move.  The blaster is held out in front of you while you walk forward and your finger rests on the trigger, begging to be pulled again.  It’s suspenseful and terrifying in a different way than before—now it’s less about psyching yourself up for confrontation and more about the fact that any sudden movement could mean your very swift end.

Silence.  Silence.  You’re numb and raw at the same time, walking up the ramp as your eyes fly everywhere, not even registering the blood or gore, just searching for movement.  You don’t know if you feel like a predator or prey, you’re that much more brutal and inhuman because of how fucking terrified you are.  You count four stormtroopers in the hull laying crumpled and still on the metal floor, but the one in the far corner only has blood on his shoulder.  You quickly swing the blaster around to remedy that, but then—

“P-Please don’t kill me!”

His words remind you of something.  Reality, maybe.  A world outside yourself and the kid’s survival, the living beings behind the bloody armor your enemies wear.

It’s a miracle your finger stays hovering over the trigger, and you watch him throw the blaster at your feet with a clang and scramble to show you his empty hands.  “Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me—I’m not loyal to the Empire, I don’t want to be here, please, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die—”

Behind the mask, your expression furrows.  Stormtroopers are loyal to the bitter end, what is he saying?  They embrace their expendiality, it’s the only thing that makes them any sort of a real threat.  Kuiil told you horror stories about them during your childhood, the cloning facilities and the propaganda they’re force fed since infancy.  It’s nearly impossible to find one who hasn’t been raised from birth to serve the Empire, no matter how crumbled and trace its remaining authority may be.

No, this is a trap, it has to be.  Your expression twists with dread after hearing him speak, readjusting your aim with the blaster and preparing yourself for the years of nightmares that’ll follow—but then he cries out, “Wait!” and then removes his helmet with trembling hands.

You pause, staring down at him in shock.

It’s him, you recognize him immediately.  It’s the same face from a hologram puck you bore into your memory, spent multiple days staring at so you’d be able to spot him under any disguise or circumstances.  Oshua Ryler.  Your quarry, the fifth puck, the one Din was out Maker knows where searching for before this entire mess happened.  A stormtrooper?  His puck said nothing about the Empire, this doesn’t make any sense.  What is he doing here?  Stormtroopers don’t have pucks, they don’t have bounties or relatives or loved ones searching for them.  They’re brainwashed, replaceable, faceless soldiers in suits of armor and they don’t even have names.

“Please don’t kill me,” he begs again, staring at you with wide eyes even as he cowers.  “I have a family, I-I just want to go home, please—”

“Shut up.”  You can’t think straight with him crying like that and you’re wasting so much time just standing here trying to process when your brain had to literally shut itself down to even do the things you’ve already done.  You have to kill him and escape, you have to—you can’t trust this complication, not with the tiny claws currently digging into your back and reminding you of your purpose, but it was so much easier when he had on a helmet.  You hate looking at his face.  It’s going to haunt your dreams now, just like the man you stabbed on Corellia.

“Please don’t kill me—please don’t kill me,” he screws his eyes up and breathes over and over instead, and your stomach wrenches with disgust.  His posture and expression are so fucking pitiful, you can barely keep your eyes on him through the overwhelming nausea and aversion that climbs up your throat.  He’s with the Empire, and they’re looking for the baby.  You know what needs to be done.  Pull the trigger, just one small movement from you and it’ll be all over.  It would be the easiest thing in the world, it would be so easy.

But then instead, you ask, “Why are you a stormtrooper?”

“I’m n-not—I hate the Empire—”

“The Empire is ashes.”  You don’t know if you’re yelling or whispering with how much blood is roaring through your ears.  “They hold no power anymore.  Why are you with them?”

“Because the one thing they have left is money!”  The quarry shrills the words at you, ghostly pale to the point of turning green.  “Th-They buy troopers now—they opened up a whole new market for the smugglers, there’s a base nearby that’s used for training and…”  He stares wide eyed at you and gulps.  “C-Conditioning.”

Your brain is already going a trillion lightyears an hour and it doesn’t have the capacity to empathize or understand anything beyond the child’s survival and the relevant details right now.  “Were they expecting the baby?”

“W-What?”  He squeaks up at you.

“Was the bounty put out on you a trap set by the Empire?”  You ask him, lifting your free arm just enough to flash him the tiny child clinging to your side.  “He said they’re coming after the baby, so tell me if this was planned from the beginning.”

“Who is ‘he’?”  The stormtrooper asks, furrowing his eyebrows and looking around.  “What are you talki—”

“Tell me if the bounty on you was a trap to take this baby!”  You roar, your blaster shaking as you aim it down at him.  Your mind is acutely focused on the tiny claws hanging onto your tunic, the continued safety of the kid and the life or death situation facing him that you were given absolutely no information about.  “Now—”

“If it was I didn’t know!”  He quickly cries out, pleading with you and clamping his eyes shut in terror under the barrel sight.  “I don’t know anything about a b-baby, or a bounty!  They just put blasters in our hands and told us to search for a ship and to bring back anyone we find alive, I swear!”

You’re silent for a moment, biting your lip under the mask and caught halfway between discerning and stalling.  You could still kill him.  You should still kill him, time is ticking down and more troopers could be heading this way any second.

Shit.  “Who put the bounty out on you?”  You ask sharply.  It might not be a completely fair question, but he can’t exactly blame you for not feeling completely fair right now.

“I—I don’t know,” he gasps, clutching his bleeding shoulder.  “Could’ve been anyone—my mother, Cyra, o-or my dad, Obediah, or Thia, or Benja, or S—”

“Thia,” you interrupt his rambling, catching the slurred word and repeating it back to him.

“Yes!”  Oshua jerks his head up, tears and hope immediately filling his eyes at the sound of her name, “Yes, Thiadura Celi Ryler, that’s my sister!”

Maker, if he’s lying, then he’s fucking brilliant at it.  You look towards the cockpit of the ship, biting your lip under the mask.  Get to Nevarro, tell Karga and he’ll… something.  Din was cut off before he finished.  Help?  Know what to do?  You’re lost, but you have a clear directive and the precious seconds are sliding by.  The controls are right up there, two steps to the ladder and less than a minute until you’re rising into the atmosphere.

But then you think back to the terror in Din’s voice.  The blistering panic that made him speak faster and with more urgency than you’ve ever heard from him.  Get to Nevarro.  Tell Karga.  Get to Nevarro.  Tell Karga.

You look back at the quarry.  “How many of you are there?”

“At the base?  Around three hundred,” he immediately spills.  “Half of us are in the hole right now getting brainwashed, they do it in shifts, but they can be mobilized in a few hours.  There were a lot of bodies outside when we were ordered to split off, maybe a third of our squadron, but the rest were still shooting at whatever was—”

“So around a hundred left,”  You finish breathlessly, almost wanting him to speak faster and cut to the chase so you can calculate quicker.  “How many were dispatched on the search?”

“Uh, there were eight groups of five sent in each major direction,” he informs you, still trembling on the ground.  “Told us not to come back until we covered the entire sector.”

Of which, four you’ve already taken care of.  In other circumstances, you’d be nauseated at the thought, but right now, it’s just another number to subtract, just more panicked math in Din’s frightening absence.  That leaves at least sixty troopers left wherever the base is, minimum, and likely a couple more hours before they’ve combed the sector.  If this wasn’t a preconceived trap purposefully set for the kid, then that means reinforcements haven’t arrived yet but likely will soon.  And if this is a base meant for training and conditioning, then that also means there’s a chance not all of them will be loyal yet.

You make the decision immediately.

“Okay,” you announce, clicking the blaster’s safety switch and holstering it, sounding lightyears more certain than you feel.  “Then you’re going to help me carry out a rescue mission, and I’ll take you back to your sister.”

“You…”  He looks uncertain, blinking at your blaster and slowly lowering his hands.  “You want to rescue the men?”

Ideally?  Sure.  Realistically?  You don’t say anything in response.  Instead, you kick his regulation firearm at your feet further away from the quarry just in case your judgment is flawed, and then turn around and grab one of the bodies behind you.

Your adrenaline is still blaring so fast that you only just barely note the severity of what you’ve just done and what you’re continuing to do.  The corpses aren’t real to you right now, they’re inanimate things that you need out of your ship before you can close the doors to it.  They are, however, heavy as fuck, but the only other adult here has a wound in his arm from the gun on your hip.  Regardless, you have experience with lifting dead weight without a big, strong, capable man to do it for you.

“Help me out here, kid,” you mutter over your shoulder, and in response, you feel his claws dig in and climb up just a little bit until he can peek out in front of you.  Thankfully, the burden is suddenly lifted and you can quickly slide the dead troopers down the ramp with ease.  It takes hardly any time at all—you just yank and haul and release and all four of them tumble the rest of the way all by themselves.

When you stand back up, Oshua hasn’t moved and he’s looking at you with a pale, queasy expression.  Glancing down, you see that your white robe is now stained with streaks and patches of rusty blood.  Instead of swallowing back bile at the sight and bolting to the shower to scrub off every last remaining trace, you breeze past it, noting nothing more than a change of color.  Dirtying your white, pristine clothing with the consequences of protecting this baby—you’d rather have blood-soaked fabric with an unharmed kid clinging to you than any other combination of those things.

“Can you make it up to the cockpit?”  You ask the quarry, kicking his rifle off the ship before closing the ramp and then gesturing up the ladder.  Your voice is calm and steady but your hands are beginning to shake again.  “I need as much information as possible about the base.”  You know that’s where Din is, judging from the wall of blaster screeches that drowned him out through the comm.  Logically, you know you could be headed right into a trap, and every instinct inside you wants to find safety, but… you just cannot imagine flying the ship away from this planet without Din onboard.  It isn’t fucking happening, you’ve made your choice.

Without waiting for a response, you climb the ladder and plop down in the pilot’s seat of the Crest.  While Oshua finds some way to clamber up the steps behind you in bulky stormtrooper armor with one good arm, you hold the kid closer on your lap and begin flight checking.  Din will be fucking furious, but the scolding you’ll be sure to get is the least of your worries right now.  Following his instructions and going back to Nevarro is just making shit infinitely more dangerous for him, turning what could be a potential rescue mission into an undeniable suicide mission.  Even if Karga somehow decides to send a few guild members along to infiltrate the base, it’ll be a war you want to avoid.

Besides.  What did you always tell him about running away from him, even when he instructs you to?

It’s just… not really your thing.

---

They’re everywhere.

They crawl like flies out of the base, and for every single body that falls, three more spill from the open doors.  Rapid fire plasma beams launch from the end of Din’s blaster, melting white armor with every twitch of his gloved finger.  Their aim is terrible, as is to be expected, but the sheer number of them more than makes up for it, as is by design.

Din’s heart pounds with exertion, his breath comes in ragged huffs through the modulator as his helmet identifies and isolates which body is closest to him, which body he needs to bring down next.  His blaster is so hot it nearly burns his hand, even through the thick gloves he wears.  When he runs out of ammo, he holsters the pistol and swings his rifle from around his shoulder, spinning to catch a handful of troopers behind him in the obliterating blast.

He’s not thinking much.  He can’t think, even though your safety and that of his son is currently dangling by a thread.  If he focuses on that, he’ll be dead before he can even picture your faces.  He just reacts, he maims and kills without a single thought in his mind.  Blood splatters, screams and sirens blare as he becomes surrounded by more and more troopers.  Din can hear the sound of plasma colliding and ricocheting off his armor; every single one of them is a potential injury he could currently have but might not even be able to feel right now.

His helmet starts beeping rapidly and he turns just enough to see, highlighted in bright red on the screen, two enormous artillery turrets slowly rising up out of the roof of the imperial base.  He feels a fierce flash of anger burn in his chest, it’s like a lightning strike to his veins.

Din needs to go.

And yet… if he was another man.  If he wasn’t a father, or a husband, if he had no family and no attachments like the creed declared he should, he would go.  With just a twitch of his fingers, he could be launching into the sky and retreating as far away from this battlefield as he could reasonably get.  He’s never been the type to run from a threat, but this isn’t just a threat.  Dozens of troopers are gaining on him, they’re trampling their own dead to get within range.  Plasma pings off his shoulder, another one hits his back as they flank from behind.  He can feel the heat through the sizzling beskar, he can see them surrounding him on all sides, and the propulsion trigger for his jetpack is right there under his wrist.

Din holds his ground and continues firing, he plants his feet firmly to the dirt with only one thought in his mind.

Run, sweet girl.  Run.

---

You type in commands to scan for Din’s signal, quickly locating it through the Crest’s computer onboard.  Not far from here, three minutes or less.  The ship rumbles to life beneath you, slowly lifting off the rocky ground and rotating in place as it hovers.  It’s not on autopilot but you feel like you are, you can barely feel your hands as they move the yoke forward and the Crest takes off in the direction of Din’s blinking frequency.

“Tell me about defenses,” you instruct Oshua, restlessly bouncing your leg while the baby coos.

“Two plasma turrets on top of the base,” the quarry quickly answers.  “There’s usually guards stationed around the perimeter, but everyone who’s capable will be outside right now.”

Your mouth twists downwards under the mask.  Blasters don’t scare you much from this high up, but Din’s armor doesn’t cover every inch of his body, he’s not completely invincible.  Doubt churns in your stomach, but you have to stay focused on one task at a time so you don’t get overwhelmed.  The turrets, then.  “Are they automatic?”

“Manual,” he corrects with a shake of his head.

“Radar?”

“Old.  Only engages above fifty meters.”

You eye your altitude and dip the Crest considerably, beginning to weave through the rocky canyons and dodging crumbling cliffs while you travel.  “What about ships?”

“None,” Oshua says, “except for a passenger shuttle used for transport.  TIEs are flown in the Vesta sector, this base is remote and used for basic training only.”

“Anything else?”  You ask, stomach twisting with the knowledge that barely four questions is all you’ve got.  You’re planning to drop into an imperial base to save the man you love and you can’t think of a single other question?  

The quarry shrugs, and your heart slams, does somersaults in your chest at the mere notion that you could fucking die here.  Today, in two minutes or less, you could die here.  The child in your lap looking over the ship’s front panel with a quiet determination in his eyes could die here.  Din could already be dead—that signal broadcasts his location to this computer regardless of whether he’s still breathing or not.  He could already be gone and you’d be flying the baby right into a trap without knowing any differently.

Whelp, you think while taking a deep breath, some strangely calm existential acceptance beginning to flood your soul.  If he isn’t dead, he will be soon if you don’t make it to him on time.

You immediately lift your wrist and speak into the communicator.  “Mando?”  You have no idea if he can hear you, but you need to try anyway.  Your voice is still firm, there’s a strength to it you don’t feel in your chest, but it certainly sounds convincing.  “I’m coming to get you.  Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside.  If you can’t, I’ll just… uh.  Try to figure something else out.”

That’s it.  That’s it, improvise until you don’t have to.  Even if you’re lacking confidence, you can at least scrounge up some conviction.  Your arms gain feeling again while you veer the Crest through the stony terrain, the familiar reverberations under your feet begin to fill your body with a powerful sense of purpose.  Your breaths begin to come steady, every falling rock you see through the transparisteel feels like it drops in slow motion, allowing you to evade them easily.  It would normally be stupidly dangerous to fly this low with so many unexpected obstacles and hazards narrowly missing the ship, but considering what you’re flying into, a few boulders seems comical.

“Where’s your helmet?”  Oshua asks out of nowhere, and for a second, you don’t think you heard him correctly.

But then it strikes you all at once what he’s attempting to imply, and the sheer lunacy of the thought is enough to make you laugh while you clutch the controls.  “I’m not a Mandalorian.”

“You wear the armor of one,” he points out… rather fairly, you have to admit.  “You cover your face like one.  You have a blaster that fires Philithiorium, a rare and expensive gas native to Mandalore’s stratosphere, and you’re a bounty hunter—”

“I’m not a Mandalorian.”  Your words are short and cutting, you have a daunting task to focus on and don’t feel like having small talk right now.  “I’m not a bounty hunter, either.”

But then again, Karga made you a member of the Guild, didn’t he?  He handed you Oshua’s puck and said this one is for you to find, and you are technically part of a Mandalorian clan.  All of this seems like it happened without your knowledge.  You may be marrying a Mandalorian, you may wear his armor and mother his child and shoot a blaster with his signet branded into it, but war isn’t in your blood.  This robe was a costume when you first made it, this armor was a relic that was restored as a hobby.  In a sense, it still feels that way.  The mask covering your face lended itself to a temporary surge of bravery earlier, but beyond that, the only thing that’s keeping you moving forward now is your family.  The man you love that may or may not be alive right now, the baby holding tight to your leg while the ship sways and weaves through the stony landscape.

Your eyes quickly flick down to the child in your lap, both of his three fingered hands clutching onto the stained fabric of your knee without moving a single inch.  He’d know, you tell yourself.  If his father is gone, he’d already know somehow.  Din is still alive, and he’s counting on you.

---

There’s too many for Din to handle.

They swarmed him, overpowered his endless artillery with massive numbers and there’s nothing he can do anymore.  The backs of his knees are kicked from behind and he slams down to the ground with a clatter, his sizzling hot blasters are ripped from him, and Din folds his hands calmly behind his back even as one of the stormtroopers barks out, “Binders,” to another one, who disappears quickly in response.  In the meantime, a few of them apparently decide to just attempt holding his arms in place, and their measly combined grip is almost enough to make him roll his eyes under the helmet.  These imperial soldiers are even more pitiful than they usually are, but his silent resolve to stall to ensure your escape is enough to keep him stationary and compliant for the time being.

Eventually, a few voices call out from beyond the crowd and there’s some movement from the back.  Dozens of troopers with their blasters all pointed at him begin to shuffle to make way, careful to keep their barrels aimed at him while a path slowly forms.  The crowd of white parts and a stormtrooper with a singular red pauldron on his right shoulder saunters confidently towards Din as he kneels on the ground.

An officer, he assumes.  Conveniently missing from the firefight, the scanner inside his helmet would’ve caught the change in color and Din would’ve made sure to kill him first.

“Well now, what do we have here?”  Comes his thin metallic voice through the tinny filter.  The officer studies him curiously for a few moments, before slowly looking down by his feet, reaching out one cheap, plastic covered foot to gently nudge the body of a dead trooper on the ground with a sigh.  “What a shame.”

Coward, he thinks, his lip curling with disgust under the helmet.

“This is an imperial training base,” he turns his attention back to Din to inform him when he doesn’t immediately respond, rather stupidly he might add.  “How were you able to find us?”

Silence.  The grip on hands held behind his back is even looser now.  He just tilts his chin up slightly in defiance, the scanner inside his helmet locating each weapon strapped to the man’s body and highlighting it red.  Small text boxes blink into existence under each one with a manufacturer and classification—a BlasTech E-11 rifle, a Merr-Sonn thermal detonator, a Kolvo vibroblade—and Din is severely unimpressed with the quality.  The detonator is the only weapon that even catches his eye, and that’s only because the chamber inside that houses the explosive baradium has a release mechanism that’s completely dead.  Useless, then.  Good to know.

After a long moment of quiet tension where Din refuses to speak and the officer continues to confidently scrutinize him, in some strange sort of silent battle of egos that only one seems to have a genuine interest in, another stormtrooper makes his way to the front, shoving past his fellow soldiers to address the superior in charge.

“Commander, we’ve sent out an alert for an intruder,” he tells him, slightly out of breath from running through the crowd in the lightweight armor.  Din wants to roll his eyes, but what he says next makes him snap to immediate attention.  “The fleet informed us that Moff Gideon is currently on route.”

Gideon.  The last time someone spoke that name, it was a quarry on Coruscant and you just barely managed to stop Din from suffocating the bastard for even saying it aloud before freezing him in carbonite.  It would’ve meant half the return on a hunt that lasted nearly a month but he saw red and his hand was crushing his windpipe before he realized what happened.  But he’s dead, Din thinks with a clenched jaw and fists tightening behind his back, he watched that TIE fighter explode and slam into the ground, crushing the man inside it.  The wreck was unsurvivable, he can’t be alive.

“For what?  This Mandalorian?”  The trooper in charge scoffs in response, and Din remains completely mute.

“Yes, sir,” the other one confirms.  “Orders were to capture him, alive.”

“Hm.”  The officer turns his attention back to him, less analyzing and more musing while he tilts his head.  “I see,” he eventually says, and he sounds like he’s grinning, before strolling slightly closer as Din stays completely still on his knees.  “He must want the beskar.  I’m sure it’s worth more than this entire battalion combined.”

All of a sudden, a gloved hand carelessly catches the rim of his helmet and tugs, and Din’s movement is explosive.  He launches off the ground, arms easily slipping from the pathetic grip they were being held in and his fist colliding with the side of the officer’s flimsy white helmet, the plastic making a deafening crack against his face.

Multiple hands immediately rush forward to grab him and yank him back down again while the commanding trooper stumbles backwards in shock, and Din amicably drops to his knees and folds his hands behind his back once more like nothing happened at all.

“Binders!”  A trooper behind him roars loudly once more, and a few men surrounding him begin trotting away this time.

The officer in red stands a few feet away from him now, grabbing his helmet and twisting it back to its proper position on his head where it was skewed.  There’s a shattered hole near his jaw where the material splintered and busted like the cheap piece of banthashit it is, and while he might normally feel pleased with himself for being able to see his skin peeking through, it just fills him with more righteous fury.  It’s such a punchable jaw.

After a few awkward moments of silence, the other one clears his throat and continues.  “He… has inquired about the location and status of a child that should be accompanying him.”

Din inhales deeply through his nose and grinds his teeth.  He wants to snap their necks one by one for even just mentioning his son, but there are just too many, more than even his whistling birds can neutralize.  Still, he gave you as much of a head start as physically possible.  You should be rising into the atmosphere right now, making the jump into hyperspace towards safety.  Karga will know what to do—he’ll protect his family, separate you and the boy so the threat is evenly dispersed instead of collected all in one place, and arm dozens of trained hunters to keep watch over you both individually.  It’s the best Din can do, and it’s the only thing keeping his knees planted on the ground and his body completely motionless while they continue speaking.

“We are combing the sector for a ship with as many men as we can afford to lose,” the trooper in red says, but his voice filter is shattered and now sounds like a puny little droid with a broken voice box, “but our numbers are unimpressive.  Assistance may be required.”

It’s too late, Din thinks, mouth twitching under the beskar with a satisfied smirk.  They’re wasting their time, looking for a ghost.  You’re both long gone by now.  They’ve got no idea you even exist—

“He also spoke of a girl.”

And then he feels his heart stop in his chest.  Every single cell in his body turns to fire, it’s a fucking miracle he doesn’t move a muscle in response.  His sweet girl, the one so far removed from the nightmare of the Empire that she made best friends with the orphans of it.  How the fuck did he know?  He shouldn’t even be breathing, let alone gathering information about you, how did he know?

But then Din thinks back, remembering your makeshift bed on the floor, your panicked eyes and heaving chest as the quarry taunted him with a sick little smile.  Who’s this, Mando?  She’s just darling, isn’t she?  Does Gideon know your crew has a lovely new addition?

“A girl?”

The trooper nods.  “Moff Gideon insisted that if the Mandalorian did not have a child with him, then a girl would likely be protecting him instead.”

He’s going to kill them, Din decides.  Every single one of these imperial pigs, every single soldier standing right now is a dead fucking man.  The blood pumping through his body suddenly turns to acid, deadly black hate poisoning his soul.  His heartbeat morphs into a war drum, the armor strapped to his limbs is the barrel of a gun.  He’s going to fucking kill them and leave an imperial base full of bodies to greet his old nemesis upon his return, and he’s going to enjoy every single second of it.

Except, then—

“Mando?”  The sweetest voice in existence suddenly crackles through the earpiece under his helmet.  “I’m coming to get you.  Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside.  If you can’t, I’ll just… uh.  Figure something else out.”

And, as Din kneels there in surrender, surrounded by a crowd of enemies he thought he destroyed long ago, all the anger—all the fury and defiance and murder surging through his veins—suddenly morphs to fear.

The emotion is so foreign and old to him, it feels like a face he barely recognizes and a name he can’t remember.  He’s panicked before.  He’s been in situations where a threat has made him blind with rage, he knows what it’s like to look death straight in the eyes and say that he’s busy and to come back another time.  This is different.  This is ice cold that freezes over beskar.

He can’t speak out loud to warn you—he can’t move his hands to press the button on the back of his helmet and allow him to talk without detection.  There’s plasma turrets on the roof of the base, he can see them right now.  The helmet’s scanners say they’re manned and engaged, and though he is outside and this is how you retrieved him before whenever he needed a quick escape, he has fifty fucking imperial blasters trained on him and you know absolutely nothing about this threat.  You’re flying right into a war zone and if either you or his son dies, he won’t ever be able to forgive himself.

Behind the helmet, his eyes fly to each and every trooper, wondering which blaster will be the one to do it.  Which weapon is going to be the one he can’t block in time when you descend, the one that’ll kill him right in front of you.  Which turret will be the one to obliterate the Crest with you and his son inside of it.

“Maker, where are those fucking binders—” he hears someone behind him snarl, but the white noise of pure terror roaring through his ears drowns them out.  His chest starts heaving against his will, sheer panic begins to blur his vision.  For the first time in his life, his armor feels too heavy, his lungs feel like one of these boulders are sitting on them instead of beskar.

All too soon, his helmet starts making a familiar sound that signals quietly in his ear, alerting him of an incoming ship, and the only thing he can physically do is count down the seconds to prepare himself for what is to come.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…

Like lightning, Din breaks the grip of multiple troopers and surges up, tackling the officer in red to the ground.  There’s a clatter as they both slam into the rocky floor, but in the ensuing scuffle, he easily snatches the thermal detonator from his side holster and holds it up for everyone to see, before pressing the red button on the front and hearing it begin to beep rapidly.

---

You’re right on time.

The Crest rises up through the rocky cliffs surrounding the base and you spot the turrets you were warned about.  Weapons controls are already engaged and you’re too low to be detected by radar—you fire once, twice, and blast both of them to smithereens from behind before they can even rotate around to target you.

Alarms start wailing but the guns are destroyed.  It’s not comforting, though; blasters won’t touch you up here, but that doesn’t mean they can’t fire at Din on the ground.  Your eyes dart across the sea of white, looking for a flash of silver anywhere, and then you spot him instantly in the chaos.

For some reason, the troopers in his vicinity all seem to be bolting away from him.  Their rifles are down, clutched in their hands while they nearly fall over each other to run away as fast as possible, and your heart soars when you spot his jetpack firing up.  Din launches into the sky while another trooper is revealed underneath him, seeming to juggle something in his hands and then throw it into the crowd of retreating soldiers, but the sight of the man you love rising into the air while a flurry of blaster shots from the far edges of the imperial structure follow him gives you the confidence to immediately turn the guns down towards the horde of troopers.

“Which ones are in charge?”  You ask Oshua breathlessly, who leans forward and points out the transparisteel.

“Red pauldrons—” he barely has time to say it before you aim and fire at one of the troopers wearing red that was closest to Din, the plasma beam launching from the Crest so powerful and devastating that it outright obliterates the surface he’s laying on.  Pieces of shattered armor fly and a smoking crater of rubble is all that’s left behind, but your mind is whirling and you’re already onto someone else wearing red at the edges of the complex, and then two more near the doors, and then another—

To their credit, you think the sixty or so soldiers in training seem to figure out that you’re not aiming into the enormous collection of them.  If you were, the damage would be catastrophic and spraying everywhere, but you’re precise and meticulous with your shots, and the only ones who are loyal enough to the cause to hold still and raise their blasters at the incoming threat tend to be the ones you need to mow down anyways.  The rest of them scatter in all directions, scrambling over each other to escape and then disappearing into the distant boulders surrounding the base—but you notice that not a single one of them runs back inside the safety of its open doors.

The hull dips with the weight of Din dropping in, and relief floods your soul even as you continue raining hell down on the superiors in charge.  Any flash of color you see is a target, your eyes lose focus of everything, your vision blurs and turns monochrome as you just search for red.

“Lift up!”  You hear Din’s voice roar from the hull.  You can hear his rifle unloading through the open door.  “Now!  We have to go now!”

You press the button to shut the hull door with Din inside and punch it, rising so fast that the shove of gravity makes it difficult to keep your head up.  Through the sudden surge of downward force, you just barely manage to raise your incredibly heavy arm to push the button that pressurizes the Crest and ignites the launch boosters, preparing the vessel for space travel.  Outside the transparisteel, the gray sky begins darkening as the atmosphere eventually disappears.  The ship’s engines roar, burning so much fuel at once that you’re actually accelerating through the climb, you’re boosting through the gradual ease of gravity as the planet’s curvature and glow becomes softer and softer below you.

As soon as the blackness of space begins to fill the windows, the slight subsiding of force allows you to plug in the coordinates for Nevarro with less difficulty, but you’re still moving, still rising, still escaping.  You can’t find it within yourself to slow down, but then something catches your attention.

Claws suddenly dig sharp into your thigh, sharp enough to sting and cause you to wince, and you look down to see that the kid has gone incredibly tense.  Deadly tense.  Your heart is still pounding even though you’re away from danger, you’ve got Din in the hull, everyone is safe, and yet—

It flickers into existence all at once.  One second it’s just space, just the endless depths of nothingness spread out for light years in front of you, and within the blink of an eye it’s suddenly there.

A star destroyer.

Your body freezes in horrified awe, having never seen a ship so fucking big in your entire life.  It looks like a massive satellite, the size of an enormous asteroid instantly appearing in your vision and dwarfing the vastness of space around it.  All the stars you used to dream about are suddenly blotted out within a fraction of a second, terror so immense seizes your soul that you stop thinking.  You stop calculating, you stop being yourself for a split second that lasts an entire lifetime.

Before you can move a single muscle, the computer beeps quickly and lurches the Crest into hyperspace.

---

The stars streak across the transparisteel like so many times before.  Utter silence nearly deafens you with how abrupt it is after so much noise, but the peace it used to bring does nothing to quell your fear.  Everything is the same as it always was, same bursts of light as you hurdle faster than it towards Nevarro, same quiet, same rumbling hum of the ship.  But now, everything has changed.

You hear the quarry next to you suddenly inhale and exhale loudly, and it shocks you a little bit, reminds you that there’s a person next to you and another is on your lap.  Other people exist outside of the vision of death that just flickered out of existence just as quickly as it appeared.  They’re breathing, Oshua is shakily unbuckling his seatbelt, life is continuing on in the quiet cockpit but you can’t seem to move like he is.  You can’t seem to breathe like he is.  It’s only when the baby slowly maneuvers himself around on your thigh and blinks up at you, placing a tiny hand on your stomach that you finally feel air enter your lungs.

After a moment, you reach down and click open your seatbelt with trembling fingers, scooping the kid up in your arms and slowly attempting to stand.  Everything feels wobbly and dreamlike, you have to brace yourself on the headrest to prevent yourself from falling back into the chair again.

“That was…” Ryler mutters, his voice sounding foggy and distant, “uh.  A close one.”

You look over at him, recognizing that he’s speaking but not quite able to understand the words right now.  Red catches in your vision, and you blink down at the way he’s clutching his left shoulder, the smear of blood darkening the white armor he’s wearing.  You blink a few more times at the sight of it, and though it feels like you normally would be sickened at the wound, somehow shocked out of your state of shock, it does nothing to you.  When you look back up at his face, his expression seems strangely grateful, even when it’s screwed up in what you know must be excruciating pain.    You did that, a quiet voice whispers in your mind, even though the rest of it seems incredibly blank.

Instead of responding, you stumble a few steps over to the ladder, spinning around and hesitating for a moment.  You’re severely lacking in coherent thought, but one thing seems to break through.  You’re not sure if you have enough coordination to do this safely right now.  However, when there’s movement in your peripheral and you look to see Oshua gently offering his right arm to you, seeming to understand you’d like to use both hands for this, you snap back to your senses just the slightest bit and hug the baby tighter to your chest.  Carefully, you begin making the slow climb down the ladder with the kid, still trembling with the aftershocks of adrenaline.  Your limbs feel extra heavy, but eventually the floor meets your feet.

Din is standing there when you slowly turn around, armor gleaming and still as a statue, but he has his back to you.  His helmet is tilted down at the ground, and when you follow his gaze, you’re met with the sight of the bloodstains of dragged bodies that leave dark red streaks all the way up the ramp.

You feel something this time.  It’s… cold.  A burning, searing cold that creeps into your skin.  Like your heart decides to pump nitrogen through your chest instead of warm blood.  You did that.

There’s a sudden urge inside of you to speak, to address him and inform him of your presence, tell him everything is okay, everything worked out, but you can’t find it in yourself to say a single word.  You can’t find a single word to say.  The kid twists as best he can in your clutch, his ears drag against your chest to greet his father, but for some reason, there’s still a strange sense of fear in your bones.  It’s enough to wake you up slightly, it’s enough to tell you it’s not over yet.  There’s a terror in your heart that hasn’t left since he first called over the comm and begged you to run, a crippling dread that you thought climaxed after seeing that star destroyer appear, but it’s somehow only increased after laying eyes on him like this.

You watch as his helmet turns, slowly meeting the pauldron on his shoulder, and for some reason, you feel yourself harden.  Your feet brace against the metal floor like this is another threat you have to face, you let its unyielding metallic strength transfer up through the souls of your boots to your heart in your chest.

But the second you hear cheap white armor clatter as the quarry steps down the ladder behind you, Din bursts into movement.  He suddenly spins and storms up to you in one single step while catching your holstered blaster on your hip.  It’s out and aimed in the blink of an eye, and it’s a miracle you remember how to speak before he remembers how to kill.

“Mando—” you warn, just in time for the quarry to land on the floor of the hull and turn around to reveal his face.

Din holds there for a second, his helmet locked on Oshua’s features.  His gloved fingers twitch wildly on the trigger of your gun held over your shoulder, like he has to remind himself multiple times not to.  You hear Oshua’s armor clack while he likely raises one good arm in surrender, but then Din’s helmet moves a fraction of a millimeter to your face and holds there.  He just stares down at you, and the air feels heavy, your body feels heavy, the feather light child in your arms feels heavy.

Slowly, he lowers his arm, lets it fall while he continues looking at you from behind the visor.  You look back at him, unblinking, unfeeling, and there’s a few seconds that last an utter eternity where nobody moves.  Nobody speaks, nothing happens, but then a soft coo comes from your arms before you can finally break eye contact, knowing there are still some things that need to be done.

You eventually turn around and lift your chin to address Oshua.

“You have to go into carbonite,” you inform him quietly.  Your voice sounds strange, like it’s coming from outside of yourself.  “We’re taking you to Nevarro, and then you’ll be transported to your home planet. When they unfreeze you, your sister will be there to collect you.”

He looks uncertain, one hand still raised while the other hangs uselessly at his side, and you don’t blame him.

But you also don’t feel like saying anymore, not unless he decides he doesn’t want to go in willingly.  Normally you might’ve tried to empathize, offer him further reassurance beyond just a couple short sentences, but you don’t.  Speaking feels difficult, thinking feels difficult.  You’re still in survival mode, not active but reactive.  There’s also no reason for you to lie to him about this, and you can see him glance at Din standing silently behind you, who hasn’t moved a muscle.

He eventually nods and you walk him over to the chamber without another word, watch him turn to face you as he backs into the opening while you reach up towards the control panel.

But then there’s a moment.  One where you hesitate slightly, one where your vision flashes back to the sight of those bloodstains on the floor, and that burning cold fills you again, so cold it feels completely numb.

“I’m… sorry,” you whisper quietly to him, though your voice sounds so empty.  There’s so much emotion that should be there but isn’t, so much regret and pain that should break through but can’t.  “I’m sorry I… killed your friends.”

Later, you’ll think about how you felt absolutely nothing saying it.  Your heart doesn’t constrict with remorse at the mere words leaving your mouth, guilt doesn’t flood into your soul, pain doesn’t wrack through your bones.  You could’ve been saying anything at all and nobody would be able to tell the difference.

He blinks at you, flicking his eyes between yours for a second or two, but then you press the proper button and watch the gas quickly freeze him where he stands.  He’ll be conscious the entire time, but Karga will send him to the correct location and you have no doubt that this elemental purgatory is leagues better than where he just escaped from.  It’s a benefit being the last quarry to be retrieved—he’ll only have to spend a few days trapped in here before being reunited with his family.

When that’s done and Oshua is a complete statue in front of you, bulky white armor now colored a dull metallic gray and frozen in time, you will yourself to finally turn around to face the enormous mountain of a presence behind you.  The baby gently reaches out for him, but Din doesn’t move from where he’s stood.  Your blaster is still clutched tightly in his hand, and he isn’t looking at you.

Slowly, you walk over and stop directly in front of him in the middle of the hull, blinking at him while the helmet subtly moves to lock onto your face.  The kid begins wiggling in your arms, making soft impatient noises while you both stand in complete silence across from each other.

After a few moments, you hear him flick your blaster’s safety on by his side and then toss it carelessly to the ground.  It skids along the floor, light enough to be mostly quiet.  Gloves reach out as he carefully takes the kid from you and settles him in the crook of one arm, and then he looks you up and down, still not saying anything.

Your eyes follow his movement, watching his arm slowly reaching out to you, and you think he’s going to cup your jaw, or brush your hair back.  Give you some sort of physical reassurance since he hasn’t spoken a single word of it.

Instead, Din suddenly grabs the armor clinging to your chest and starts ripping it off you with one hand.  It clangs to the floor so loudly in the silence of hyperspace, the kid’s ears twitch and flutter with each shattering bang.  You hold still while he does it, you barely respond except the unavoidable movement your body experiences as the pauldron is yanked from your shoulder and thrown against the ground.  The ammo belt is tugged over your head and hurled away, the thigh braces are snatched from your legs and they clang to the floor, and the pearly, opalescent fabric revealed underneath is stained in dead man’s blood, rusty and in such great quantities that it shows up as brown instead of red.

“Are you hurt?”

He sounds… dead.  So monotonic that you can’t possibly gauge his emotional state.  He doesn’t move.   His fists don’t clench, he says every single word like it means the same exact thing as the last.  If nothing at all was a person who could speak, they’d use his tone of voice.

“No,” you eventually whisper.

The helmet nods once, and then he spins around and walks away without anything else.  Without saying anything, without touching you, or double checking you for injuries in case you were lying.  You stand utterly still while Din climbs the ladder with the kid cradled in one arm, and you don’t even flinch when the door to the cockpit slides shut behind him.  You have no idea how long you stand there in the splitting silence afterwards, numb and unmoving.

You feel… nothing.  Absolutely nothing.

The hard defenses you strapped to yourself today to reconcile the things you had to do are still high and strong, guarding your soul even if he stripped away your physical armor.  Self preservation is still animating your body, and your facial expression barely changes.  Your first thought, as soon as you remember that you can have one, is that there are things that still need to be done.  Tasks to complete.

Alone, you shower the lingering traces of blood off your body, the normally clear and refreshing water running a sickly, toxic brown.  Alone, your stomach rolls and suddenly decides to empty itself of the very little that was in it as the scalding drops rain down over you—mostly liquid and bile that easily rinses down the drain.  The water is too warm, it beats down on you like blazing hot sand pelting your skin in the desert.  You feel like you did those first few months with Din, where the silence was suffocating, where you’d only interact with the baby if he was on a hunt or if you could tell he didn’t know how to calm him when he was fussy.  If you were in hyperspace, you usually spent time by yourself in the hull while he lived in the cockpit, and if he decided he needed to be in the hull for whatever reason, then you’d trade places with him.  It was… isolating.  Lonely by yourself.  The quiet used to haunt you before it became your cherished friend, but now it’s a betrayer, a ghost that whispers memories and nightmares in your ears.

When you finally finish rinsing the blood from your skin and get dressed, you see the sheets that used to make up your bed now have fried holes in them from your charred plasma marks, the inside of the hull is covered in them and the trails of dried blood where you dragged the bodies down the ramp.  Your armor is still strewn about the hull, the kid’s hovering shield lays dead in the corner.  Everything you meticulously cleaned and organized and collected and created, now the scene of a bloodbath.  One committed by your hand, your blaster still laying uselessly on the floor forever linked to this atrocity.

You spare a glance towards the ladder, but you don’t want to come face to face with Din yet.  You already knew he’d be furious, but… you had hoped that he’d at least…

What?  At least what?  Comfort you?  Coddle you after you deliberately ignored his instructions?  What exactly, in the past year or so of learning Din’s inner workings and intricacies, would ever give you the impression that he’d come give you a big hug after you purposefully defied him?  You flew the kid directly into an imperial base after being told to protect him, you ignored every order he gave to you in the moments he thought would be his last, and though you did it to save his life, you have a feeling that Din has never valued his life even a fraction of what you do.

The misery stabs at your soul, but your mind is finally beginning to process things logically.  He’s alive, the kid is alive, the quarry is secure, and you’re all onboard the safety of this ship hurtling through hyperspace where nobody, not even the Empire, can touch you.  You weighed the consequences before making your decision, you did what you had to do.  If he wants to be mad, then he can fucking well be mad and you’ll find some way to comfort yourself.  At least he’s here being mad, at least he’s alive and safe and breathing and mad, and your rare act of disobedience is to thank for that.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize it’s probably easier than it should be to reconcile the punishment.  Right now, you welcome the exclusion, the negativity and sorrow beating itself into your soul.  Four innocent people died today on this ship, gunned down under your blaster while they panicked and ran for cover.  You keep hearing their screams.

So you start to clean up the hull, needing another task to focus your thoughts on.  You work to erase every inch of the evidence of your deeds, make it disappear like the pool of blood Din once cleaned up while you were sleeping and never acknowledged again.  You only allow the bloodstains to fuck with your head for a single moment, and then you swallow back the nausea until you’re a blank slate again and sink to your knees with a rag in your hand.  After that, your vision stops focusing and it just becomes red contrasting against gunmetal gray, and you work tirelessly to get rid of all remaining traces of it.

Then you start on the blaster marks, you need them gone.  After a few informed attempts at mixing cleaning chemicals, you find one concoction that allows you to wipe them away like they’re nothing more than dirt that got tracked in.  The Crest’s oxygen recycling system works overdrive to constantly purify the air so you don’t get high or pass out, but your nose still stings.  It’s fine, it’s sterile, it burns a bit but it smells sharp and metallic and keeps you hyper focused on the task at hand.

After that’s done, you pick up the charred blankets and ball them up to throw into the trash vent.  You don’t feel anything as you do it.  You don’t think about how long it took you to collect these over months and months of being stuck on this ship, how comfortable they were when everything else was industrial and rigid, how many nights you spent with Din curled up in their softness while he breathed easy and warm.  Sheets are just luxuries, they can afford to be lost.

Next, you gather your armor and wipe it down with the rag, put it away along with your blaster.  The stained robe goes in the trash, along with the sheets and the blood soaked cloth you used to clean everything.  They’re all ruined, you’ll never be able to make them right again.

The hull is sparkling clean when you decide to take another shower.  Nothing on you is dirty except your hands, but you feel filthy.  Wrong, cold, numb, cold, stained, cold.

After scrubbing your skin raw under the water and changing clothes again, since you don’t really know what to do with yourself anymore, you slowly climb the ladder to the cockpit, keeping perfectly silent.  When you reach the upper platform and come face to face with the closed door, you can just barely hear Din’s whispered voice speaking quietly to the baby beyond it.

You raise your hand for a moment, hovering your knuckles over the metal, but then it eventually falls.  Instead, you look over and spot the corner, the same corner Din bunched himself into when he snapped at you for even suggesting going on a hunt with him, blew up at you for the mere notion of something happening like what happened today.  You back yourself into it in defeat and slowly sink down on the floor, resting your head against the metal and hugging your knees to your chest since you don’t have a tiny baby to take their place.

You can’t sleep.  You don’t even try, it’s pointless.  The concept feels foreign the longer you sit here by yourself.  You don’t hear Din or the baby anymore, but you feel… so fucking awful that it’s fitting that you don’t knock or go looking.  You don’t want to hold that sweet child with hands that were covered in blood just a few hours ago.  You killed more people than you can count on your fingers today, and of the ones who had done nothing wrong…  They screamed like younglings, ducked for cover and were able to fire off one single useless shot in the mayhem before you closed their eyes forever and left their bodies to rot in armor that wasn’t ever their choice to wear.

You didn’t know they were kidnapped and smuggled and forced into that situation.  You couldn’t have known, but that isn’t the point.  In this case, knowing doesn’t make one bit of difference.

You also can’t face Din yet, not like this.  You don’t want him to see you cowering, shattered with guilt over the decisions you made under pressure.  How will you ever get him to forgive you for not listening to him when you can’t even forgive yourself for the result of your choices?  Din is a hardened man who grew up in blasterfire and bloodshed, just because you love him doesn’t mean he’s going to magically become someone he isn’t.  You’re here letting guilt sink sharp claws into your chest over four dead men when he had a good fifty or more corpses scattered on the battlefield around him.  You decided to wear that armor, you decided to fly into an imperial base with the kid on your lap, and this is now your penance.  You’ll accept it with your back straight and your chin held high.

Figuratively, of course.  Physically, you’re smaller than you’ve ever been.  Crumpled up into a ball, taking up as little space as possible, curling up as tight as you can like an animal protecting all your vulnerable parts during a brutal attack.

So, since he isn’t here to comfort you himself, you just try to think about what he would tell you.  A long time ago, what would he tell you?

Din would tell you… that you killed someone.  Multiple people, this time.  He’d also tell you that it doesn’t matter what he tells you, what you could have reasonably foreseen or what you should have done.  The end result won’t change.  You own this now.  You’ll carry their deaths with you.

You take a few deep breaths, self-soothing with the undeniable truth that would be murmured matter of factly from his quiet voice.  He wouldn’t argue with you.  He wouldn’t deny the decisions you made or the consequences of them.  It happened, and at the end of the day, you either learn how to handle that, or you don’t.

And, for the four you did shoot, you were responsible for freeing ten times that amount.  You’re responsible for reuniting Oshua Ryler with his family, even if your place in yours is momentarily shunned.  You’d rather be out here alone than in there with the kid, wondering where his dad is or if he’s even still alive.  You rescued Din and now he gets to be here to shut this door on you, hold his son, and whisper calm reassurances to him.  If you listen really hard and imagine, you can pretend they’re for you, too.

That’s it.  Focus on them both, alive and well together.  Focus on the bodies wearing white armor that were moving, the ones that were bolting away from the imperial training base as fast as they could, free from the torture of imprisonment and conditioning.

Finally, you close your eyes and slip into unconsciousness.  It’s not a testament to your exhaustion, but rather just how long you’ve been left to sit here by yourself.  Hours, maybe.  Time is strange in hyperspace.

You dream of a faceless man ringing bells.

---

When you wake up, a small baby has been placed in your arms, and you’re being dragged into a strong, secure beskar hold on the floor.

“Din,” you suddenly lift your head as soon as you’re conscious and nearly bonk it into solid metal, apologies rising in your throat before you even remember where you are.  You did what needed to be done to keep your family alive and together and you’d do it a thousand times again if necessary, but that doesn’t mean you won’t apologize anyways.  After the deeds you’ve committed today, regret feels as natural on your lips as speaking your own name.  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I know you’re mad at me but I—”

“Shh,” he whispers, running his gloves through your hair.  He’s still wearing his helmet, he hasn’t taken anything off yet.  “Don’t say anything.  Just… stay here, stay right here with me.”

“I tried to save you,” you croak, tears instantly flooding your eyes.  You did save him.  You saved him and the baby and yourself but you’re so physically and emotionally exhausted that all you can recall is your intent.  “I tried.  Wasn’t gonna leave you there by yourself.  I tried to be brave, like you—y-you wouldn’t have left without me.”

His arms tighten around you, cradling you in such a strong embrace that you burrow into him, you find a place for your head on the hard metal strapped to him and bury yourself there, wishing that you had shovels of dirt being piled on you to justify the death you still feel staining your soul.  Your heart is starting to pound now that you’re remembering, your body is starting to shake with tremors of shock now that you’re aware of your own skin again.

“I was so sc-scared, Din, I didn’t—didn’t know what was happening,” you lament through watery eyes, gasping it out in hopes that it’ll relieve the slightest bit of the gut wrenching guilt just mercilessly crushing you.  It caught you before you could protect yourself against it, that armor you built around yourself isn’t on when you first wake up.  “I-I didn’t want to kill them, but they were already on the ship and y-you said—you said they were coming after the kid s-so I had to, I had to—”

“Stop,” Din whispers, voice so quiet that you can barely hear him.

“I-I cleaned up the blood,” you turn your face against the cold beskar to let all the positives you listed for yourself before scrape across your throat.  They don’t sound comforting anymore, they just sound like excuses.  “It’s gone, it’s like it never happened, everything is okay now, I got the quarry, I protected the baby, I saved a bunch of people, you’re both safe—”

“Stop,” he chokes out.  The modulator cuts off before you can hear his next breath, but you feel it shudder under your body.  “St-Stop it, please.”

Your eyes clench shut so tightly you feel like the streaking stars outside are behind them, tears drop down against his pauldron and you press your face tighter to it like it’s a wound, like the pressure will somehow ease the bleeding.

“Listen to me,” he says very quietly, and you instantly brace yourself.  The walls you just let down shoot right back up, your body physically tightens in preparation for another pain, another trauma, another scar you’ll carry, and you stop shaking.  You stop breathing, even when his hand comes up to ease your face away from his armor.

“You,” he whispers, holding your chin so you’re staring right at him, and your eyes flick fearfully in between his behind the visor, “are a sweet girl.”  Din’s leather thumb brushes along your skin, dragging over the tears below your puffy eyes.  “Not,” his voice catches, “a Mandalorian.”

Your heart goes cold.  Again, everything turns numb.  It doesn’t matter that you already said this yourself out loud earlier today.  It doesn’t matter that you acknowledged this fact, verbally insisted it more than once to hammer home the truth and felt some sense of comfort in it.  For some reason, hearing the words from his mouth is a fucking knife to your chest.

“I taught you how to fight, how to shoot a blaster,” he murmurs, thumb catching every single tear that continues to fall as he speaks.  “I taught you everything I know, everything that’s been taught to me.  I taught you how to defend yourself, how to protect yourself when you’re in danger.  I gave you your blaster, I gave you my armor, I gave you everything I could give you to keep you safe.  And when I thought you were ready, I let you loose on Sanctuary II.  Do you know why I did that?”  The helmet tips forward the slightest bit at the question, probing deep into the most shattered part of your heart.  “After all those months of fighting, and shooting, and training, do you know why I told you to run?”

You blink silently at him, a shaky breath quaking through you, and your expression wants to crumple under the reprimand.  You’re so fragile right now, taking hit after hit after hit to the softest parts inside you, and you want to just give up.  Let the guilt and remorse take you, let it wash you away.  But then, instead…

There’s a flicker of something inside you.  Something strong, endlessly strong, and it makes you want to revolt against what he’s saying.  It replaces the hurt and fear and desperation for comfort with a strange sense of insurgence, like it did earlier when you were hiding behind a boulder, cowering and trembling and not wanting to die.  You’re filled with a quiet urge to defend yourself in the face of this, stand up for yourself and refuse to be beaten down any longer.

“Because you needed to know how to escape danger,” he answers himself when you don’t.  “You needed to know how to disappear, how to outsmart any pursuer and find safety, even the trained ones.  Especially the trained ones.  Anything else was meant to be your last resort.  Not your choice.  Not something you chose.”

“I couldn’t leave you,” you admit to him quietly, voice shaky and tears still coming even as you try to speak up for yourself.  The regret you carry has nothing to do with this, and you decide right now that you won’t feel bad for saving him.  Your hurt comes from the meaningless things, the ones without any need whatsoever, not the necessary ones, and you tried.  You repeated his words to yourself over and over again, told yourself to run, told yourself to get to Nevarro, and it wasn’t going to happen.  “I couldn’t do it.  It wasn’t a choice.”

“It was,” he tells you.  He says it softly, whispers it like it’s the gentlest thing in the world, but the power and inherent distance of the armor strapped to his body finds its way into the words.  “And it was the wrong one.”

“What was I supposed to do?”  You ask, just a hint of that rebellion swimming to the surface now, rising out of the waves of self doubt, the one that feels like a spine growing in your back, an energy coursing through your veins that makes your heart start to beat faster.  Din’s hand slowly drops from your cheek but you don’t care.  “Was I supposed to run away and just let you die?”

“Yes.”  It’s quick and blunt and completely emotionless.  Delivered like a punch to the vulnerable parts of yourself he taught you how to protect, and the utter silence following this single word is comparable to the physical pain you learned to defend against.  It jabs hard against everything good and sweet and tender inside of you, and you’re left speechless even as he continues impassively.  “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do.”

It takes a second, but then that unfamiliar feeling suddenly surges up, breaches with the power of an entire ocean.  Your voices may be nothing more than whispers in the dark, you may be clinging to each other, holding each other with the softest, gentlest love in your hearts, but the strength of your conviction on this would rip metal apart.

“No.”  The word holds the might of your entire being, and it stands alone and defiant in the face of everything you fear, everything that threatens you, him, and this child.  Never.  You’ll die before that happens.  “I love you, and there’s nothing in this galaxy that would ever make me do that.  Not fear, not danger, not the Empire, nothing.  Not even you.”

Din stares at you.  His visor reflects your hardened expression back to you, the force in your soul and the purpose in your eyes, and you don’t even realize the gravity of what you just said because like your love for him, gravity is a constant.  It’s a fundamental truth cemented into the rules that govern your actions and it stays true no matter where you are, no matter what terror you face, or how scared you become.  You have him, you have this little boy in your arms, and if that’s all you have, then you have everything.

After an eternity of this, of feeling his eyes pierce deep into you from behind the helmet while you refuse to wither under his stare, you watch him slowly turn and look down, landing on the sleepy child tucked between you both.  He holds there for a long time, before finally whispering, so quiet that the modulator barely picks it up, “It was the wrong choice.”

You stay quiet.  It happened.  What’s done is done, you can’t change the past.  He can scold and reprimand you about this as much as he wants, but you did the right thing and that decision is the only reason he’s even here to be able to do so.  This exhausted child was reunited with his father because of your choices, and this exhausted father was reunited with his child.  You won’t argue anymore, but it’s a certitude that lives deep in your heart now, builds a home there right alongside the both of them.  Din eventually looks up, his eyes find yours again behind the visor, and his hand rises once more to gently cup your jaw.

“I… thought I’d enjoy seeing you in my armor,” Din finally whispers.  It’s not what you expected, but his voice sounds… weak.  Broken.  “You wore mine once before, and it was…”  He brushes his thumb along your cheek, and then his head shakes slightly, pushing the thought away.  “It wasn’t real.  It didn’t fit.  It dwarfed you, it made you look out of place, it made everything soft and innocent about you stand out.  I liked it because it wasn’t real.”

“Was it… really that bad?”  You whisper back, partially to ease the tension just slightly but quickly breaking eye contact with him when you realize it doesn’t land correctly, it just sounds self conscious and sad.  You try to find that conviction again, that strength and assurance that propped you up so sturdily before, but…  Not a Mandalorian, he’d said.  Of course not.  Of course not.

“It wasn’t the armor.”  Din gently tugs up on your face so that you look at him again.  “It was you covered in blood.  It was you purposefully putting yourself in danger.  You killed multiple armed soldiers of the Empire, you dragged their bodies off the ship.  And then you flew into an imperial base, where you killed the officers, too.  You…”  He shakes his head slowly at you while speaking, and although you can’t see his face, you don’t need to in order to hear the horror in his voice.   “You… collected a quarry… in the middle of a massacre, sweet girl.”

Not a Mandalorian.

“You don’t chase down bounties,” he tells you.  “You don’t fly into war zones.  You don’t kill imperials, you don’t collect quarries, you don’t sacrifice yourself, or our son, to save me.  You said you tried to be brave… like me.”  His fingers tighten against your cheek, he dips his helmet to make sure you understand.  “I’ll never ask you to be brave.  I’ll ask you to survive.”

“I’m… sorry,” you finally whisper, and his arm drops from your cheek to join the other in wrapping around you and holding tight.  They hug you and squeeze, encasing you and the baby in a beskar shield and staying there for a long time.  Long enough for you to tuck your head back into its proper place under his helmet, long enough to start to feel okay with the silence again.  It brutalized you the last time you were surrounded by it, it made you feel alone and desolate and barren inside.  You greet it warily now, settling into it for an unknown amount of time until it’s forgiven once more.

After a while, Din quietly breaks it.

“How many?”  He murmurs to you.  You already know exactly what he’s asking, there's no more clarification necessary on his behalf.

You slowly close your eyes and think back to the smoldering craters, the blood soaked ramp, the fear in Oshua Ryler’s eyes as he begged you not to kill him.

“That didn’t deserve it?”  You ask, clenching your eyes tighter at the memory.  “Four.”

And maybe, maybe six or eight months ago, you would’ve begged for some guidance on how to reconcile that.  Hell, maybe a few hours ago, you could’ve used his arms around you exactly like this, his low voice repeating the same things he’s already told you before, over and over again, if only for some semblance of stability when everything feels turbulent and uncertain.  You’ll never be able to change it, though.  This belongs to you now.

This time, all Din says is, “I’m sorry, too.”

And that covers everything.

The silence envelops you both again, but… there’s something else.  Something that still sits deep in your worries, an image that isn’t a scar of what’s happened but a dread of what’s to come.  You need to tell him.  You don’t feel like saying it, you don’t want to speak it aloud for fear of bringing it into existence, but you need to tell him.

“Din?”  You breathe out, and he makes a soft noise in his throat while cuddling you on the floor.  “I saw…,” you whisper, every word sitting tight and reluctant in your throat.  “Right when we made the jump, I was looking through the window and I-I saw…”

“A star destroyer.”  He says it like… like it’s the worst thing in the world and also completely expected at the same time.  He says it like he already knew, yet can’t even imagine.  You lean every bit of your weight against him since you can’t hold him in return, squish him as best you can against the small corner and curl up even tighter in his arms for comfort.

He takes a deep breath, a shuddery sound you don’t think you’ve ever heard him make before.  It holds untold anxiety, unsaid conflict, uncertain action, an unknown path forward.

“I don’t know what to do,” Din eventually whispers to himself, to you, to the baby in your arms.  His voice is barely a breath through the modulator, his fingers digging into your skin with how many emotions he’s repressing.  “What do I do?”

He sounds so distressed that you automatically feel your soul find the floor—instantly, you become steady and calm and you locate all that rationality that kept you going today.  All your worries still twist deep down, all the guilt and the turmoil wrestles with your soft, easy nature until you can only find bits and pieces of it in the most vulnerable places inside you, but if he’s struggling this terribly, then the least you can do is offer some good, true, unwavering faith in times of uncertainty.  You’re in hyperspace, everything worked out, and it’s going to stay that way for right now.  If he doesn’t know how to talk about it yet, then you trust him enough to wait for him.

“It’ll be okay,” you tell him with a newfound confidence and purpose, carefully easing the baby into one arm so that the other can find its way to the other side of his helmet and pull him closer.  Din tucks his head and allows you to brush your lips against the metal, whisper the words soft and steady to him.  “We’ll figure it out together.”

---

@cptnbvcks thank you so much for the incredible art!

[seaweedbraens]

GIRL AHSGRKAKAGSJSLSGDSJSJSHDDGDGDGDGDGDHDGDGDGDVXBCBBXBDHSHSHAHHAHAHSJAJAJAJAJA

The last chapter ??????? Annabeth's eye????? (Actually share your thought process for that decision me is interested) APOLLO ARE YOU OK? THE BATTLE OMGGGGGG

BOW BITCHES YOU NEED TO TORTURING MY LITTLE BABIES LIKE THAT

Glad to see that luke is not proclaimed a hero because tbh he isn't maybe he turned good at the end that doesn't make him a hero that doesn't excuse all the people who died because of him turning good at the end didn't justify Silena's actions they don't justify yours either. I said what I said.

Thank all the gods he didn't ask Annabeth if she loves him that was wild af

Tysm for the therapists

im impertinent gold

Smalltalking??? smiling??? Are we sure these are the same gods 💀

He's follow her straight through the gates of Tartarus if he had to, and he'd do it with a smile.

YOU DO THAT IN ANOTHER UNIVERSE ACTUALLY.

Also love how that references the title in a way

I am shooketh this feels like the end of an era honestly tysm for this gem I haven't read the epilogue yet but I'm sure it will also be earth shattering good too

Also THANK GODS PIPER AND FRANK ARE OKAY ASUGSUFSUSUGSGIGS

Still not over the deaths of others i absolutely hate you for that ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ (no I don't)

I love you sm for writing this gem

ufafugkgjg i end my rant here ty for coming to my very *eloquent* ted talk lmao

idk how i missed this!!! but AAAH thank you thank you ily <3 and i LOVE that you caught the title reference! i actually had that line be the title exactly, but i scrapped it because it was way too on-the-nose haha

the 'did you love me' line from luke...not gonna lie i did consider putting it in just so annabeth could like definitely clarify that she loved him like family and that it was never ever romantic, but like you, i hated that line in canon so much that i couldnt keep it. it's...it's just bad.

and omg i did wonder if i made the gods too...smiley? but i think the situation called for it. like they were on the edge of extinction (to some degree) and it didnt fit for them to be haughty and hoity-toity. like. they AND the demigods know who saved their asses. i think they'd be thankful for it (at least for a while). i do think they'd truly try to change and be present and all of that, but if i'm being honest, over time i think they'd slowly pull back to something like we see in the canon pjo series. like they're there but definitely not parental. but that's okay, because like we see in the fic, the demigods know now how vital they are and they intend to create a world for them. they'll be okay.

this truly does feel like the end of an era. it's so weird waking up and not having to put something into my planner related to writing this fic. it's very emotional and while i know this fic isnt perfect, i am so proud of myself for finishing it. i wish i could put it on my resume haha

as always tysm for the support <3 it means the WORLD fr. ily <3333

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

“yes, other writers who have smaller blogs would love to have more comments on their fics, but they too would feel annoyed if all the comments they were getting were 'Part 2???'”

OMG YES! i love it when people comment on my fics like so so much but a lot of the times there’s at least a few ‘part 2??’ type of comments. (also a lot of the time the asking for a part 2 is the only engagement they give) while im not opposed to the idea of writing a part two, i usually don’t have any ideas for a part two because most of the things i write are meant to be 1 parters and so if i can’t think of anything sometimes ill ask them what they’d like to see in a part 2 or if they want to send in a request for it but they never respond? i hope it doesn’t seem like i want them to basically come up with the idea for me but im just kinda confused on why people ask for a part 2 on something i wrote when it doesn’t seem like they’re really that serious about wanting to see more because it’s happened at least 3 times now.

anyways, i hope your day is going good (and if it isn’t i hope that changes soon :/ <3) and that those delusional obsessive weirdos learn to fuck off and stop making shit up

okay, idk if people have noticed this, but I have started putting disclaimers on my fics. I have literally had to put disclaimers at the end of my fics saying 'this is meant to be a oneshot, so please to not comment asking for a part 2' - and comments on my oneshots have gone down so much since I started doing this. I have gotten way less comments on my oneshots because of this. (because people don't want to talk about the actual fic, they just want to ask for more.)

because I couldn't handle the mental strain of getting a notification of a comment, getting excited about it, and then opening that comment to see 'part 2?' or 'omg you need to continue this' - when the ending was very purposeful and it was a oneshot for a reason. especially smut. like just because I don't include both partners having an orgasm and pillow talk, people demand that it's incomplete. people saying 'when are you gonna finish this fic' kills me. it is finished. (kill me, please. you need to kill me.)

and like sometimes I never think that I would ever write a second part to a fic, but positive comments encourage it. my Gleggie fic Hold Me Tight Or Don't - a fic where the main character fucking dies - is a very open and shut case for a fic without a sequel. because the main character IS DEAD. but someone in the comments made a joke about being in their 'Ellie Williams era' because they wanted to mentally deny the sad ending, and it sparked a whole idea for me where the reader character is immune and lives instead. and that fic is currently in my drafts and I am excited about finishing it in the future.

that is the power that engaging comments can have - it can spawn a whole new fic from a place where there was a dead end plot with absolutely 0 potential

but yeah, thank you for this message. I hope you're having a good day - my day is mid level, and I hope to have a better day tomorrow.

and for reference, to all fic readers/commenters out there - if you really like a fic and you are really excited about the idea of a possible sequel to it, here is how you go about asking for it:

go to the writer's ask box or their DMs - open up a line of communication that is separate from the comment section of that fic

tell them that you really loved that fic, and tell them a reason why - the writer will want to know that you are supporting their work, and that you're not just asking for more fanfiction because you're bored

politely ask if they would consider writing a sequel or a continuation to that work

and maybe, in the same message, pose some possible ideas or concepts for that follow up

so, something like "hey, I really loved Hold Me Tight Or Don't. I love the way you contrast the themes of sex and death. but I couldn't help but to wonder what would happen if the reader was immune and survived. would you ever consider writing a follow up or a sequel to it? if not, that's okay."

(fyi, even on works where I have said I do not want to make a sequel, I am open to these ^^ kind of messages if you are particularly interested in one of my works having a possible sequel. the circumstances for each of my works having a sequel is different in every case)

[19calicos]

fic authors self rec! ♡ when you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. let’s spread the self-love ♡

hi wyr & @mollyrolls !! you both sent me this so i’ll answer u both here :-) thank you for the ask btw !!!

so technically i dont have 5 fics out LFMAOO so i’ll plug everything i’ve published so far + my favorite ikwtl chapters!

when the sun sets, it rises again (osamu oneshot)

this is the most self indulgent thing i’ve ever published ….. i wrote this when i was barely starting to come out of a really bad headspace, and it ended up kind of helping me out of it more. i really love osamu and i’ve been wanting to write more for him but im glad i put him in this one :-) and i think that all of the things i’ve written, i genuinely don’t care how many notes this one gets LOL idk how to describe it but it’s just so close to my heart

street style (oikawa smau)

HELP im gonna have so much fun writing this ITS SO EASY TO BE FUNNY FOR THIS FIC 😭😭 oikawa fuckass bermuda shorts pic u do Not know how iconic u are to me !!!!! i think i’ll also post a style guide for this one since fashion is a part of it !

tea for two (kiyoko smau)

a fic that im very very excited to write ‼️ plus kiyoko deserves more love and the more i plan for this/look at my notes the more im like Wait….. Theres literally no way i actually considered a man for this fic 😭😭 im very excited to do my best in characterizing kiyoko and the support this fic has alr garnered just from the masterlist blows me away <33 i really love the image of crescent teahouse that im creating and how it and yn march to their own beat :-)

i know where to look (kuroo smau)

definitely my pride and joy and very self indulgent 🙂‍↕️ im proud of how far i went with it and i will be finishing it soon one way or another! it still blows my mind that this was my first fic and it kind of blew up very soon after i started publishing chapters. i appreciate all the love it’s received and i think about some of the tags in the reblogs very often, esp when all i want to do is abandon this blog 😭😭

ikwtl chapter 6: clocked and chapter 12: who wont slime

6 & 12 are the funniest chapters i’ve written out of the entire series 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ i rmbr reading peoples’ reactions and laughing my ass off when i was writing the tweets 😭 like bokuto choking bc he was too drunk to remember to chew & noya selling slime to akaashi i rlly make myself laugh ! i am very glad my very dumb humor has also made other ppl laugh too !!

[sehrgefaelltmir]

🌈 (for ein unbeschreibliches gefühl) 📥 and 🏅!! i love your works 🫶

aw thank you so much!! that means a lot <33

🌈 - what inspired you to write [insert fic here] - lowkey i feel like it was lewy leaving bayern 😭 like i had already been a big müllendowski enthusiast for a long time but id never written a fic before?? and then in early summer 2022, like may i think?? i finished my leaving cert (final school exams, kinda like a-levels or abitur) n i had loads of free time suddenly, and id been reading loads of football fics so i rlly wanted to write one myself, and i started trying to think of vague plot ideas but i was scared to actually write it?? cause i felt like my writing was a bit shit and my plot was unoriginal asf and made no sense 😭😭 but then. THEN. The Transfer happened. n anyone whos looked at my blog for more than like 1 second knows how much i love lewy. like i was genuinely devastated i cried real actual tears on more than one occasion 💀💀💀 so after that i was like fuck it. just write the silly little fic who cares if it’s bad or unoriginal it literally doesnt matter anymore the world is ending etc etc etc. so i wrote the first chapter in like half a day n posted it and im so glad i did!!! top 5 decisions ive ever made 😌

(thats also why i set the whole thing in 2015 btw. so we could be faaaar away from the evil barca transfer. i was in denial frfr) (i still am he still plays for bayern hes just on loan cause gavi needs a foster parent)

📥 - your fave fic to receive comments/messages on - i guessssss ein unbeschreibliches gefühl?? it’s definitely the one im most proud of its like my firstborn child. but i just love getting comments in general theyre so fun!! even if i got a comment talking shit abt my fic and telling me its the worst thing ever written id just be 🥰 yay 🥰 comment 🥰

🏅- something you recently felt proud of in regard to your writing - uhh for my euro 2016 müllendowski fic (the sequel) i actually wrote an outline for the whole fic instead of ending every chapter with no idea how the next one was gonna go 😭😭😭 thats how i wrote ein unbeschreibliches gefühl n to this day idk how i finished it cause every time i sat down to write a new chapter id read what i last posted n be like oh no why did i write that 😓😓

asks!!

[yagamisdiary]

I have a love hate relationship with the fact that you enjoy making us suffer throughout the entirety of your books and making us think they will have a bad ending just to give us the best possible endings ever 🥲 ugh i love you so much youre my favorite author ever, while im here i apologize for the incoming paragraphs but i just need to say it:

1. Idk how you do it but the book covers you choose are always so perfect like?? Idk if im explaining myself but i feel like they capture the vibes of the books perfectly

2. Ok now this is kinda personal and i dont mean to sound like im venting, but have you ever read a fic that impacted you so much to the point where you find yourself still thinking about it to this day 😭 bc that's how i feel about both of ur books, they're so beautifully written and i'm always thinking about the characters or going back to read random parts of the books (edit: i had this paragraph written way before parasite was removed okay but i started rereading eldia yesterday because im truly heartbroken, devastated, downcast, miserable, dejected and inconsolable by the fact that its finished)

I discovered you in july-ish 2021 during parasite era but didnt actually read it until june 2022, i was devastated when i finished it but also had to cleanse my soul cause i accidentally burnt my self out during the last few chapters (i mean it in a good way lol, it was rlly hard to read the last 2 chapters 🙇‍♀️ they were written really well and i felt unsettled while reading the beginning of y/ns whole breakdown, i could feel the gloomy depressed vibe it had if you get what i mean), so anyway i moved on to Eldia. At that time, it was fairly new so there were only like 10 or 11 chapters, ive been keeping up with Eldia ever since and its truly bittersweet to see it end like i was literally full on sobbing for no reason 🥲 probably the sentiment of being a reader for 2 years idk lol. Anyway what im trying to say is that your books were one of the only things that helped me escape reality in 2022, i didnt really find joy in anything and hated my life, however ive definitely improved ever since, so im honestly rlly thankful for you Amara 💕

Edit: i just know it sounds stupid and youre probably tired of hearing the same thing over and over, but i've had this written out for like 5 months and was kinda scared to send it because i felt like it was corny, but with Eldia's resolution i felt encouraged seeing all these people tell you what they think :P so sorry for the long ass paragraph lmao, i just needed to say it because i know in 10 years ill be a grown ass woman and still thinking about these books, theyre attached to my brain forever (like a parasite, ironic)

Ok so i doubt ppl will read this (or that you'll even read all of it) so if you reached the end i must say that you actually ate with the baby names in Eldia 🤭 im saying it here to avoid accidentally spoiling anyone but Andromeda 😪 i remember in early july i sent you an anon ask saying that i pictured you as a girl mom and even listed a few names, i was gonna list Andromeda so its kinda funny to me 😭 and Elrose?? Andromeda is my fav name but Elrose grew on me and i actually rlly like it, idk why it just sounds and looks so satisfying OMG DAMN I JUST SCROLLED UP AND DID I REALLY WRITE ALL OF THAT?? IM SO SORRY AMARA 😭😭 i definitely had way more to say but i feel bad now, it was gonna be an anonymous ask but atp i'll just let it be public

to conclude i must say that whenever someone asks me what my favorite books are, i hate that im not able to say "Oh my favorite books are parasite and eldia" because they're considered fanfics and not 'real books', i think thats really stupid, not only because fanfiction is just as valid as what ppl consider 'real books' but because there are so many fanfictions turned into real books or movies?? Ok im done (for now) but as you can tell im not really good at going straight to the point sorry for writing about 10 paragraphs love you queen vivan las escritoras latinas 🤞

1. honestly i find a pic that fits the vibe i want the book to give before i even write the story then i just somehow find a way to incorporate the cover

ex) eldia’s cover is jean with wine all over him, iykyk there’s an exact scene in eldia that references the cover

2. thank u so much 🥲 the ppl who have stuck around the longest always say the most sweet stuff bc yall really have been alongside me for so many years now and were like growing together which is kinda cool

3. i wanted a name that had ambrose and elijah both in it and it was either elrose or embrose but i ended up liking elrose more, embrose was too similar to ambrose

4. i don’t mind the length of the message at all! i love love love reading all the stuff i receive and the ones that are the longest stick with me the most. 🫶🏼

[lilting-aurora]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @fulcrumstardust !! thank u💞

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

2 on my main account browneyed_jedi , 1 I regret orphaning, and 1 on another account

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

6,321! baby steps :D

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Star Wars on the whole :)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. it’s the only one on my alt account….it’s hilarious how much better this smut fic did then anything else i’ve ever done

2. he was breathing, at least (1,052 words) - my whumptober prompt! it was quite hard for me to write so i’m glad people seem to like it :)

3. untitled high school AU (2,058 words) - this WILL be finished one day i promise!!

4. an unhappy medium (3,211 words) - this is the work i orphaned, it’s the half blood prince retold from draco’s perspective!

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

ALWAYS. comments are so precious to me ❤️

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

gotta be my whumptober prompt “he was breathing, at least”. i’m really proud of the ending in particular

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

“untitled high school AU” for sure. it’s nowhere near finished yet, but they sure made up quickly lol

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i’m not quite big enough for that. a bit scared for when that day comes haha

9. Do you write smut. If so, what kind?

I’ve written a LOT of smut, but never posted any on my main. i want to one day, though. seeing how well the other one performed is convincing me lmao

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

idk what counts as a crossover but i’m currently writing a rebelcaptain The Creator AU and i’m having so much fun with it. gonna try write a bit more before i post it

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Probably not

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

no but i would absolutely LOVE to!! if anyone wants to join me please dm me whenever

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

it’s rebelcaptain why are you even asking

but recently i’ve gotten into gwen/miles from the spider-verse movies! they’re just so cute 😭ñ

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

i’m gonna make it happen no matter what - but it’s the untitled high school AU. life has just been getting busier and busier and will only get worse over the next year, but this thing WILL be finished one day

16. What are your writing strengths?

i’d like to say description? like visual descriptions of things. i really enjoy it. also dialogue is really fun and easy to write

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

disciplining myself to actually write lmao. i also tend to write slowly cos im a perfectionist

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

i like it but i prefer having at least a basic grip of the language

19. First Fandom you wrote for?

harry potter!

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

it’s the Creator AU i haven’t posted yet - i’m just so proud of the imagery :) from what ive posted it would be “he was breathing, at least.”

tagging: @quarantineddreamer @luciechat @imsfire2 @mosylufanfic

[forsakenmissives]

I know nothing about football but I'd still like to hear about the au :3

see bc i complain and then i don't even know where to start LOL

ok so ig i'll start with the title From the Sidelines and a little description i have, to pique interest heh

Arthur is Camelot FC's star striker and captain. Merlin is the kitman. Life is hardly ever fair.

anyway . i suppose that's. a little misleading. that being said i think this grew into something waaaaay larger than i originally planned @.@ like it was supposed to be a fun little addition to the surprisingly small amt of footballer arthur fics we have but now this fic has double daddy issues (balinor my beloved...), coming out, sports injuries, shitty coaches (aredick die by my sword) and never making the national team. HUH??? i just wanted merthur to fuck on the pitch... (joke) (just in time for fuck him on the field friday)

also there's side stories. like one is when the players get handcuffed tgt for 24hrs but they've got an uneven amt for it and merlin gets roped in

and then there's the valentine's day arwen special that i somehow accidentally made into a statement about arthur's attitude toward his sexuality?? and feelings for merlin??? through his anxiety about his date with gwen????

“All good?” Merlin asks. “Never better,” Arthur replies, then pivots and walks directly into his closet. He stares at his barren shoe rack before he feels hands on his shoulders, and Merlin is turning him around and guiding him back out. “Wrong way,” he hears him say. “Right.” This time, Arthur marches out his room then down the hall to the front door. “I’ll be back.”

i'm allowed to give this info bc i don't know if i'll ever actually post the extras. i dont' even know when i'm gonna finish the main story sjkdfhgjkf

oh yeah another side story takes place in 2007 (that might be the title for it idk) and it's about uther buying camelot fc for arthur's tenth birthday LOL dont question the legaltiy of arthur playing for his father's club. i dont know and i dont care. this is fiction SIMILARLY dont say shit abt arthur being a striker and captain. it's happened before. it's literally fine. dont even worry about it

there's like. ik i rly only talked about the side stories but u have to realize just how much has already gone into this fic and i wouldn't even say i'm halfway done. i don't think i've written out a single match which is also funny bc i've been keeping up with the prem and actually think i can do it now. i just keep dragging my feet abt it lol

i think the hardest part for me is when im gonna have to seriously injure arthur. i didnt want to but i think it's an important way for his and merlin's relationship to progress and also would explain merlin's attitude toward him in january. its less abt injuring him and more abt him having to sit out of games not for like. lineup stats/compatibility reasons

oh my god typing this all out made me realize we haven't met like. half of the guys on the team yet. i was sitting here like "i need to rewatch eps with all the knights bc i dont trust myself to write percy and elyan accurately" but now i just realized i dont even know if mordred is on the like. squad yet or if he's still with the u18s (after a brief check with my info page he is. i'm gonna be sick)

like i said there is a LOT of info on this . sorry this was so long i just needed to ramble a bit and it also made me realize some info i still need to include so yayyy :3 thank you nonny if u have anything u wanna know in specific like fr anything PLEASE ask. i'd love it so much if u asked. u saved my life <3

[amporella]

hi! this is mpreg anon from a few months back lol. i just wanted to say i finally got to reading the fic and im sooo!!!!! sobbing and crying, a puddle of love on the floor! you were right. i Know now why you talked about it often.

i really love holly's stankyle. theres something about them that feels very.. desperate? like they know they belong together and sometimes not even physical touch can satiate that need/want?? idk! but agh! i love them sm. holly is also really good at capturing the overall weirdness of south park and thats why she can come up with aus/ideas that are weird or silly and make them work. i also really appreciate that she went for kinks/tropes that not many people give style.

something else i really loved about this fic was that it felt very like.. omg a dream come true in a way? sometimes i just wanna read a fic where stan and kyle do fuck all all day, just real type of normal maybe even domestic shit and its just them. and this fic came pretty close to that? they are so wrapped up in each other and have so much love to give and g OD i thought the baby was gonna come in and ruin that or like i was gonna get annoyed w the baby but no!!! 😭 i was so neutral about elway in the beginning and was actually loving how kyle was thinking/approaching the whole thing. idek when that started changing?? before they talk about the name elway though. and when she was finally born and the days kyle spent fighting to get her?!! and then he gets her and its the three of them and its like.. yeah.. okay, she's perfect. she really is a miracle stan and kyle created and theres no way she could ever come between them bc stan and kyle's love is endless, its forever and ever, they can share that love with their child 🤧

as for creek, hmm. i think craig and tweek just arent characters i've seen holly write for and like? so even though they are/were together i just didnt rly care for them u_u. im really glad i started finally reading fic where theyre not together in style fics though. it still hurts a bit lmao but ive been enjoying some stories i had passed on before and stuff and yeah, ty for giving me that little push >w<!!!

sorry this ask is so long! i didnt want to bother you every time i finished a chapter lol. i was also going through some stuff and this fic was the only thing keeping me sane. and actually i have just the epilogue left but im so sad its gonna be over after that so i've been delaying it :(! but yeah, aahhhh herbert garrison's night school for unwed fathers enjoyer 🫡 TY! 💙💚

YOU HAVE NOOOO IDEA HOW HAPPY I AM THAT YOU READ THE FIC AND SENT ME THIS AMAZING ASK??? I saw this in my inbox and immediately went to my friends and like BRAGGED ABOUT GETTING THIS? I'm going to respond to every part so bear with me but in the meantime THANK YOU!!!

I think you are so so right about them being desperate... it is key for stanky that regardless of how close they get physically, it's like it'll never be enough? Like they are soulmates in every sense of the word, and can never actually satiate their pull... SIGH!!!! IT'S TRUE!!! And holly's ability to nail absurdity is absolutely one of her strongest suits, and something that definitely contributed to how iconic she is. South Park is an absurd show, and holly meets it with such absurdity that Stan and Kyle can stay perfectly in character, because so many of her plots are something that could legitimately BE a South Park episode involving the characters when they're older. Like, Craig and Clyde fucking in the Marsh shed and Craig telling Sheila Kyle needs a psych eval? A+, can and will happen at some point. It's so ridiculous yet somehow believable, and the mpreg fic is literally the BEST example of it. It's a concept that's frankly a huge turnoff for a lot of people (understandably), but she puts it in such a light that she makes it appealing for a ton of people. It's one of those fics that i would recommend even to the most vehement mpreg hater, because there IS something about it that differentiates it from typical fics like that.

AND DESCRIBING IT AS A DREAM COME TRUE IS SO CORRECT? Everything you said in that third paragraph specifically was so fucking real. The fic starts off as such an absolute disaster situation, and despite the multiple disasters along the way, you can absolutely tell that it was like fate in a way? Holly does an incredible job of balancing the understandable stress with the joy and all the happy moments, as well as acknowledging the fact that in the end, Elway seriously did enrich both of their lives. I LOVE THAT YOU POINTED OUT HOW YOU WERE WORRIED ABOUT THE BABY COMING BETWEEN THEM... because it's true!!! It's such a real concern, but she is so good about wrapping it up; the scenes after Kyle gets Elway feel like a dream sequence in how floaty and happy everyone is, and while reading it I was like (as someone who does not want kids), huh. Maybe I need to have a baby? LOLL but seriously you are so right. It IS endless and now they have even more love to go around because of Elway... whatever. WHATEVER!! I'm not even crying. I'm NORMAL!!!!

I totally get your feelings about creek!! I ended up feeling kind of similarly. I'm happy you started expanding your horizons!!! There's nothing wrong with sticking with exclusively creek fic, obv, but there are some real gems out there if you're able to push some of the icks to the side. And maybe you'll even figure out a new ship you like? I remember that I was afraid to read Other People's Tupperware at first because Tweek is literally dead, and Craig hooks up with Kenny? But then I decided to read it (and felt neutral about it!) and it was valuable to me. And then when I read it a few years later, I really loved it. It got me thinking that first time!!! I'M HAPPY I COULD HELP GIVE YOU THAT PUSH!!!

Talking about holly (or any other fic) to me will NEVER bother me so pls feel free to do so!!!! I HOPE YOU ENJOY THE EPILOGUE!! It is sweet and so delightful. AND PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I CAN EVER GIVE YOU ANY OTHER SUGGESTIONS!!

Thank you SOO much for this ask!! It seriously made my day.

[p-taryn-dactyl]

😂 🙅‍♀️ 🗑 🏅 💡 ❤️ 🤔 💕 (don't mind me asking all the things. xD)

hihi! thank you so much for the ask, im sorry it took me a while, i had a weird night and a even weirder morning 😭

😂 : what's the funniest comment someone has left on a fic of yours?

i had to go through practically all of my fics to find one lmao, i think one i remember laughing at was from part 1 of CIAFOM where someone commented "bruh i haven't finished the fic but the second i got to, "Marc was vibing." BRUH WHY IS THAT SO FUNNY-" i remember liking that bc i was just happy someone liked the fic but im sure there are other comments that are funny too

🙅‍♀️: what is one trope you refuse to ever write?

uhhh i'll never write incest? im not a huge fan of non-con. im blanking on tropes as i type this lmao

🗑: what is one fic idea that you loved at first but then scrapped?

oh so many :/ i've paused CIAFOM bc i didn't like the direction i took the story. one that had been all written and ready but i hated how i had done it was a Camelot!AU where reader had to choose between different suitors during a masquerade ball but if i recall there was also like an invasion happening idk i just wanted to describe pretty ballgowns and have a 'who are you gonna pick' type situation

🏅: what is the fic you're most proud of?

either way down we go bc i wrote that when i was at my lowest inspiration wise and confidence wise and people actually liked it or burnt toast and vodka bc in my mind that's exactly how i would act in the marvel universe

💡: whats the weirdest thing you've ever been inspired by?

church sermon 😁 it was about sodom and gamora

❤️: who is your favorite character to write for and why?

it depends on what fandom! i love writing for Agatha and Yelena in marvel, Daniel jackson in stargate, mick rory and barry allen from the CWDC, and it all boils down to if 1) i see a part of myself in the character or 2) im attracted to them

🤔: what is one genre you've never written that you'd like to try?

science fiction? in both fic and my personal writing ive kinda avoided it bc im not that smart when it comes to technology and i feel like i would really make the fiction part stand out in the genre.

💕: what is the WIP that you are most excited about?

im working on an ambessa (from arcane) x reader fic rn that im excited about and then i have a few agatha ideas im working on that i hope will turn out ok!

thank you!! also i love that you asked a lot dw 🫶🏻

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Someone gift me baby karasu with a bow that’s the only thing I’ll ever reply with when people ask me what I want LMAOO

I def wanna see them pro but something about seeing the pro would also feel bittersweet to me somehow?? Idk like now that they’re pro we KNOW it’s over but errrr idk I don’t have a better solution HAHA im ngl I was into kuroko no basket for awhile but it was way after it ended and I almost died with how the fandom was kinda inactive and lack of content im just glad that since BLLK is ongoing now it won’t be as barren lolol

I would tell you to search it up but you’re gonna wanna burn your eyes after…I only heard of it via booktok (Idek how I landed there because I don’t rlly read that much now either nor do I interact or follow any book accs? Thank god I’m out now I wonder if maybe some ppl just went viral) but oh my god why would you think of writing such a thing??? I honestly don’t have an issue with dark content either since I think it allows more exploration of deeper topics sometimes but idek the door and pillow thing wasn’t even dark topic it’s just..??? ???????? ????? I don’t know what to say but you’re on the dot with weird smut

Im hopeful that s2 will def get things going again!!! Like pls fill up Ao3 too like why’s there nothing there.

You’re so right….a very good choice on your end LMAO he def doesn’t fit the arranged marriage trope as well and his canon ninja background was the perfect set up for this!!!

OOOO IM EXCITED LMAOAOA can’t wait to see tabieitaken hollyhock au style…

OOOOOO WAIT THATS SO COOL?!?! On my toes waiting for the next installment o7 (also for whatever reason I think it’s so funny when people go [redacted] I laughed so hard maybe my humors broken)

Oops I meant the cursed child trope in the sense that everyone (or those around them) believe in it LMAOAO I think it’s more interesting when people around them buy into that myth and make their life hard as opposed to just flat out actual misfortune whoopsie

KARASU APPEARANCE no because I was thinking too like…is Mira gonna add Karasu…or are we omitting for the sake of keeping karasu a main lead type of thing…LMAO can’t wait though!!!

-Karasu anon

BABY KARASU W A BOW all i want for christmas is HIM!! he’s just a princess fr i love him sm

watching a fandom slowly die after the source material ends is the WORST at least the anime/epinagi are much further behind from the main manga so it’ll be a while before it’s over!! some series do stay generally popular even afterwards so hopefully bllk is one of those 👆🏻

HELP I JUST LOOKED UP THE PILLOW ONE WTF 😭 that’s not even dark that’s just bizarre…where are these people getting their ideas from 😔

i feel like jjk also blew up heavily with season 2 coming out (although tbf it was already hugely popular) so i think (hope) bllk will be the same!! obv not to the same extent as jjk because whatever is going on there is like unprecedented levels of popularity but for sure i do think more people will get into it now that more characters will be there and there’ll be more content

YES like otoya being a lord or highborn just doesn’t have the right ring to it!! he’s too unserious i could not see him being dignified or dutiful esp not in an arranged marriage scenario where he doesn’t even care abt his wife that much. karasu or yukimiya 100% (more so yuki but karasu could make it work i think). ninjas tended to be lowborn/peasants too so it’ll be interesting to juxtapose him and y/n + show him interacting with a lot of the characters who ARE more noble (y/n, yuki, etc).

TABIEITAKEN HOLLYHOCK AU MY FAVORITE MORALLY GREY ASSHOLES 💖 there is not one good person in that fic (except maybe anri) just some characters you do root for and some you don’t HAHA i’m excited for all of the reveals and character development i think it’s going to be sooo fun

YESS it’ll be clearer once i finish the story where i got my inspiration from. i love drawing from history as an inspiration!! like ofc i’m not going to go word for word but it’s nice to have something that i can reference if needed and build my own plot off of. i def think it makes hollyhock unique…like a) it’s a fic w OTOYA as the main love interest (not the usual suspects itoshi bros) and also it’s set in a relatively unusual setting + is engaging with a generally overlooked aspect of that time period. like forget being a weak lady who falls in love w her arranged marriage husband 🥱 y/n is scheming plotting killing etc etc (or at least she will be eventually). i love mcs who are just a little Not Normal and i really think this y/n is like that!! as shown when she was completely willing to sacrifice her half brother if it meant living. like yes 100% he’s an ass but also girl that’s still an entire life you do NOT gaf abt 😭 omg and otoya when he heard her say that…bro realized he had finally found someone to match his 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴 💖 truly the otp we all never needed

ooh yes i do think y/n is a victim of that trope while she’s staying w the hiiragis!! although as much of it is just them hating on her because they hate that she’s such an embarrassment to them…i’m excited to show how other characters (otoya and co) react to the circumstances that make the hiiragis hate her!! it’ll def be interesting (and also a lot of it is based in actual japanese mythology/tradition…despite my disclaimer i actually do enjoy researching and sprinkling in details like that!! i just had that in there in case some historian type of person came to my comments freaking out abt how something or another isn’t accurate 😭)

i feel like karasu HAS to be there HAHAHA it truly wouldn’t be otoya if his bestie isn’t present especially since yuki exists in-universe too!! he’s also going to be super important to the story but it will break my heart knowing that things w him will never be romantic 😔 though honestly “romantic” is a stretch even for y/n’s eventual relationship w eita 😰 it will be intense and passionate and pining and many other such things but unfortunately with all of the political nonsense they’re up to (unifying the warring states and whatnot) there won’t be too much time for a healthy proper relationship. long story short expect a slow burn 😈

ALSO BTW I’M SO GLAD YOU’RE INVESTED IN THE STORY writing fics for random characters is sooo hard sometimes because there’s usually not a lot of engagement/feedback 🤒 as long as i have even one reader who likes to yap w me i can usually manage it though so i am very grateful for you bae 🫶🏻 doing the otoya nation a great service

[janaedonim]

3, 8, 10? From coffeewritesfiction

Sorry for taking so long and being a monster! Life etc etc 🩷 thank you for asking 🩷

3. My favorite fic that I’ve written - hmmm I think there’s three and I’m gonna say that’s fine bc what rules. For like the best writing I think I’ve done in a fic there’s a 1D rpf I did in second person that I feel like flows really well and takes you into the feeling.

For a character exploration I really love the fic I wrote about Danny Mahealani from teen wolf exploring what his storyline could (SHOULD) have been in the show + how his significance could have been related to the origins of his last name. DANNY SHOULD HAVE BECOME A MAIN CHARACTER IN SEASON TWO AND IF I EVER SEE JEFFS BITCH ON THE STREET

Anyway, third one would be a fic for The Flash where Caitlin has a Bi Awakening because of Iris because she’s literally the hottest woman on television??????????? But yall wanna act like she ain’t bc racism….okay…,.

8. Projects I’m currently working on - I’m trying to finish all my old fics in chronological order, but I actually think I want to deep dive into all my old fandoms and finish all the WIPs from each fandom one by one. Im also feeling super conflicted about rpf so I’m looking at all my 1D WIPs and trying to figure out if any of them can work as original fiction instead. A lot of them I think only work in the context of 1d lore/fandom phenomenons so idk what to do with those.

Currently actively writing something vaguely titled “silver courts the captain” which is gonna be cheesy fluffy black sails fic.

10. Is there a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

Yeah I didn’t expect that me writing smut for the first time would have like no affect on the kind of feedback I got? I was expecting a lot of commentary on the sex but most folks are still mostly focused on the ship 😄 which I honestly love for me I’m self conscious enough as it is. The fic was Rachel x Monica friends fic btw 😅

Also!!!! The previously mentioned fic about Danny got so much kindness and love that encouraged me to keep going even tho it took me like ten years (I don’t think that an exaggeration) to finish that fic. And I didn’t expect that at all I didn’t think anyone would care. 😭 literally every person that commented on that fic ever I’m sending you wishes for peace, good health days and paid off debt 😭🩷💕🥹🥹🥹

🩷🩷🩷

[itgirlgyurecs]

the way i finished this and immediately came to open my notes and write down all these overwhelming feelings.

i need to communicate how wrecked i am right now.

first of all rana, RANA! im smitten by the way you write oh my god. I use the word simplicity a lot, but it is such a compliment in my book because you make it way easier for the reader to submerge in your writing and thats one of the biggest asset of a writing.. AND I NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE DYNAMICS!

GOD I loved the way you paced the meetings between the oc and yeonjun, like it was so engaging—i was on the edge of my seat when you went from a full on conversation between them to the fast paced meetings that went by a montage till that that moment when he closed his door on the oc. dude like the way i'm obsessed by this kind of relationship the oc has developed with yeonjun like it's so sour but sweet kind of makes you feel for the oc but you can't outright hate yeonjun because he is so adorable to me idk why ( id kill him if he was my neighbour tho)

ALSO OMG I was like wait how is it gonna develope now that he has seen that you are in this kind of situation with doyoung and he's like, ofc he's gonna be jealous and he's gonna be extra cocky BUT LIKE THE FACT HE IS ACTING LIKE THAT AND ALSO GIVE THE FACT THAT BOTH OF THEM now kinda meet regularly,( for the oc to yell at him) ik at this point i'm just rambling BUT I NEED TO LET THIS ONE GO OR ELSE IMMA FEEL SUFFOCATED BECAUSE I LOVE THIS DYNAMIC SO MUCH. like there's so much push and pull and no one is ready to yield like I love a pairing that makes you really root for them. ( also the fact this is a noona fic and i'm OBSESSED with that trope rana i really think you got the log of qiwis favourite tropes)

and the cherry on top when we see them getting stuck in the elevator—i cannot like stretch this enough how much this scene has affected in terms to see the relationship of these two developer with yeonjun crying in front of the oc and then the oc having a sex dream about it, WHICH I GET. tbh same oc.

And like the whole interaction altercation between them when yeonjun came to confront thr oc and I LOVE HOW DUMB THIS FUCKER IS LIKE THSI DUMB FTAT BOY MF THINKS HE CAN JUST KISS SOMEONE WITH NO CONSEQUENCES!! (i mean he did get his dick wet [by his own cum] and oc did kinda like yk I get yeonjun but I do not stand by him)

and omg this LIST OF KINKS YOU ABSOLUTE GENIUS THE WHOLE CONCOCTION ITW BREW AND I. THINK I prefer this to most sub idols ( dont run after me with A spear bow) is BECAUSE MY PREFERENCE TO bratty subs like domming someone who is more inclined to dom you but is just pathetic little shit in your hands is kinda sexy and I love when yeonjun goes off to his macho man tangent, as THE YOUNGER GUY, how pissed oc gets and just puts him in his right place.

andddddd dude that one scene where yeonjun was like trying to grind up towards the oc's pussy i think i short circuited,, i was fucking on my knees with my eyes blanked out, I loterally saw white smoke in front of my eyes YOU ABSOLUTE GENIUS OF A WRITER I LOVE YOUR HANDS!!!!!! like the slappin, the teasing and then this horny bitch with his pants soiled asking if he could eat your pussy AGH im in love with your writing. this may be just a piece to you but to me this is one of my favourite writing from you ever!! dude i love you plot building so so so so much, i don't feel like im just reading a mindless smut but like actually extract from a book with the most interactive writing and brilliant dynamic and best smut!! thank you sm for this!!!

i word vomited sm but i still feel like I barely touched the surface of what a great piece of writing this was

Because I’m currently pissed off ive decided to manifest it into positive energy 🙂!!! I present to you a scenario of very loud and annoying neighbour Yeonjun, like just criminally loud neighbour throughout every. single. night. Absolutely no rest ever since he moved in.

warnings: sub!yeonjun, grinding, slapping lol, dacryphilia, noona kink sorta

On good days, it’d be what you think is him producing music because at least your walls aren’t vibrating. Worst days? It would hands down be the ragers he throws practically every week as if he was still in college. Sex being a close second—to give credit, he has toned it down the past couple of weeks.

“We take your complaints very seriously, but please cut him some slack Miss. He’s still in college you know how…they get,” So…he is still in college. And to the newfound information, you guess he’s also under twenty three. It explains… a lot. “Between you and me, he’s practically scraping to get money for rent enough as it is.”

You hold back a scoff and instead try to be empathetic so you give your best attempt at a smile to the office worker. You could handle a few months of sleepless nights before he’s eventually evicted, can’t you?

So, just like that, you give up the weekly complaints you send to the landlord.

…Is what you chose to believe as you try your hardest to drown out the noise next door, pillow pressed against your ear with sheer strength before you finally give out, groaning with agony. If you can’t get anybody to listen to your complaints, then who will?

Communication.

Like a light bulb lit above your head you scramble out of your bed, not in the mood to change out of your nightgown, slipped on your slides, and you were now prepared to pay a visit to your more than lovely neighbour, Choi Yeonjun.

You knock a few times. No response.

Before you could get your tenth knock the door swings open to reveal the monster who has been tormenting you for the last few months. You hold up a polite smile, though your eyes unintentionally trail down to his exposed collarbones. A white tank top, a white tank top, a white— “Hey?”

Your eyes widen, getting flustered as you clear your throat, straightening your posture. “Um, so, hi! As you know I’m—"

“Y/N, neighbour 331.” Your brows raise impressed that he actually knew. “The one who’s been submitting complaints on me every Friday, right?”

Oh. He does not like you. Your smile falters for a second before you compose yourself and nod. “I just wanted to come to you instead of going to the landlord tomorrow morning, think it’s better if we communicate.”

He contemplates for a second before nodding, arms crossed lazily, eyes urging you to continue. “…I want to communicate that I am not very…appreciative of the noise every night. Well, I’m sure you already know—and I wish for you to turn it down a notch.”

Yeonjun gives you a tight smile, eyes turning into crescents, with his hand placed behind his door. “Sure.” —is all he says before the door’s slammed shut in your face.

Not taking into account the rudeness of what he just did, you think that was a success. So you take a second to commend yourself and pat yourself on the back, heading to your flat.

To your luck, he goes through with his word and actually keeps it down.

For one night.

You think maybe if you go knocking enough times, he'd follow through each time (which he does) and eventually learn to turn it down without you telling him to (which he doesn't).

You're faced with him again, patience holding by a thread, "Keep. It. Down." you grit out the moment his door opens, eyes with intention to kill.

"Damn. Okay. You can chill out."

And then again.

"Turn your TV down."

And...again.

"I would appreciate it if you turned it down a bit."

It was a daily thing to get up from the comfort of your bed and storm up to his door, your knuckles bruising from the abundance of times you banged on his door.

"At this point, might start thinking you're really into me." You stare at him in disbelief, mouth hung open not able to process the absolute audacity. You're even more pissed when he cheekily points out: "You're drooling."

You immediately shut your mouth before rolling your eyes to absolute oblivion. You hate his guts. Even more when you wipe at your mouth experimentally and do in fact find that he wasn't lying. "Just—just turn it down!"

You truly did not like him, nothing more nothing less. You couldn't even find him more than averagely attractive so there definitely weren't any underlying feelings. You just thought he was way too incredibly cocky for your taste, too unbothered of his surroundings; to you it looked like all that mattered to Yeonjun was himself. Which is a big turn off.

You were definitely all too aware of the numerous times his eyes would, with absolutely no shame, look you up and down, not caring to be discreet about checking you out. Each time you'd scoff, because god, does he remind you of all the reasons you hated college.

You didn't think he was at peak of childishness until the one time you saw Yeonjun arriving at his door as you struggled to key your door open with your sort-of-boyfriend slash co-worker Doyoung (which was another issue you had to deal with all around) beside you, waiting to finally finish off what you started back at his car.

"Hey, hey let me try." Doyoung offers and you let him, awkwardly making way for him to attempt to open your jammed door.

It wasn't hard to feel Yeonjun's quick glances over at you before he says nothing and disappears into the black hole that was his flat. When you came over to his door the next day, the daily reminder to keep it quiet, he does one of his cheesy fuck boy lines from a 2000s movie without fail. Except he doesn't end it there.

He asks you a question you would've snorted at if it wasn't for the fact that it wasn't very humorous to have an annoying neighbor busying themselves with your personal life.

"Was that your boyfriend? Yesterday?" His very weird attempt at keeping his voice monotone and almost nonchalant has you puzzled...not in a good way.

You resort to not answering his question. You didn't have to. "From a scale of one to ten, how valuable is that information to you? It's supposed to be zero lovely neighbour."

"Well, you—you should keep it down next time," he starts, and you're confused. No way. "Couldn't sleep with all the bed creaking."

You could've even retort back and say something like 'oh, now you know how I feel', too embarrassed to say anything before just storming to your door. You did not like Choi Yeonjun.

At all.

All of that was before being stuck in an elevator with a more than a nervous wreck plus one.

"Can you calm down? They'll be here in like, less than a few minutes." You aren't too great at comforting, clearly, as he gets a lot more jittery. "Fuck! It's been five entire minutes!” —Not true. “What if—what if we just die in here, holy shit holy shit." Yeonjun was spiraling as he tries to pace in the confined space, eyes wide with panic, biting down on his bottom lip practically breaking down right in front of your eyes.

"Hey, hey look, just sit. On the floor. Calm down, and collect yourself."

To your surprise, he stops pacing, for a second looks at you before taking a breath and slumping down to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest. You decide to also sit down, albeit, the awkward distance between the two of you making it less than comfortable. It feels like a few minutes before your ears pick up little sniffles.

Oh well, shit. He was crying. You attempt to not look at him, he was clearly more than vulnerable but your eyes can't help but slowly trail to your side. The confident, cocky neighbor you've had to deal with for the past five months was indeed crying.

Your perception of Yeonjun changes in an elevator that day, just a tiny bit. When he starts to apologize through his sobs, that had quickly picked up sound, you feel something. "Sorry, sorry, I'm just—fuck—"

"What happened?" You don't care, you think you don't, but you still end up asking. And listening.

"Don't judge." he says with that slight break of his voice and you nod.

Your eyes dart back and forth, hyper focused on every feature of his face as he turns to you, venting all of his worries to someone he most likely finds annoying the same way you find him—red runny nose, fox-like eyes already turning bloodshot, the way his perfectly trimmed brows furrow every few sentences like he was thinking over what he should reveal to a stranger that hates him, or his quivering bottom lip whenever he'd take a second to take a breath—your perception of him had definitely changed. Just a tiny bit.

You have no idea what possessed you to reach your thumb out for under his eyes—to wipe. Like you knew him at all. As if he wasn't the neighbor who had been the cause of all the sleepless nights you experienced. It was something about his pouty lips, pinkish tone from all the crying, making you behave so oddly. “Thanks…” Yeonjun’s strained whisper combined with his tears bordering his waterline had got you even more entranced and holy shit— you quickly retract your hand from his face, instead focusing on bright yellow light on your floor number.

“Mhm.” It was a panic hum, like any minute now you would do a very impulsive and frankly out of character thing.

But thankfully his paranoia was proven to not be true as just a few minutes go by before the elevator doors open to reveal someone from what you assume to be the rescue service.

When you get out, Yeonjun is rather quick to go to his flat, avoiding all small talk and shutting his door behind him almost as quick as he ran to it. And as for you, all night is spent sleepless once more. And the cause being once again, Yeonjun. Except it's not his music, his movies, or sex. He keeps oddly quiet that day. No, it's the short dream you have that scares you awake.

Yeonjun. Crying. And a sex dream. Oh you were fucked up.

Not only does that dream scare you wide awake for an entire night, it also scares you from ever approaching his door again. Or when you see him down at the laundry room, or at the elevator, or—

At your door?

When you open to the persistently annoying knock, you don't expect it to be your neighbor. In his signature frat look, a backward cap hanging on his head. "Hey—"

"What do you want?" You cut him off.

"Oh, well, straight to the point, um—Was here to tell you that I'll be throwing a party in just a few hours. So it'll get loud. And I won't be able to turn it down. Sorry."

"Okay." you simply say before adding, "Thanks for giving me a heads up I guess." You attempt to give a smile before shutting your door but Yeonjun stops you with the intervention of his foot between the door and the frame.

"Also. Question.” You quirk a brow. “This is probably really weird to ask because we don't even know each other, but, are you avoiding me? I feel like you are. Was it because of my …crying?" He whispers the last part like its some sacred omen.

"Huh?"

"What happened at the elevator. Can’t you—can’t you just forget about that? I mean I have no idea if you’re avoiding me because of it, but I feel like you are and I don’t know, I just need a confirmation. It’s driving me fucking insane and, and as a man—”

God, you’d do anything to not be the victim of a macho man attempting to explain how weak it is to shed a few tears. So you reveal the reality that you are currently living in. A reality where you dreamed about fucking Choi Yeonjun, A.K.A someone you would consider a mortal enemy by this point.

“I had a sex dream.” It’s the first time you see him taken aback, blinking rapidly, clueless of what you just said. “About you.” you confirm, pursing your lips at the few seconds of silence that followed after. Presuming he has nothing to say to you look down at his foot that was the sole reason you hadn’t shut the door yet.

He scrambles, flustered when he realizes, moving his feet, an incredulous chuckle leaving his lips right after, “Um, yeah, sorry— a sex dream? About me? Huh. I always knew—” With dread, you slam the door shut before he could get another word in, the last thing you see being a smug grin on his face with the newly found information settling in and god you just want to rip your hair out— the absolute last thing you wanted to do was feed his ego. Which you had clearly served to have done.

You choose to huddle up on your couch, watching a random Netflix show to pass time on your vacation day but the show’s too uninteresting so you inevitably end up spacing out.

You’re not entirely sure why you’ve been particularly childish about the dream. Especially since you’ve had awkward sex dreams before, the one about your fuck-ass boss taking the number one spot for most traumatizing. But you’ve never actively ignored anyone or even gave it a second thought other than “Holy shit that was weird.”

So, your subconscious leads you to believe you resorted to avoidance due to the contents of your dream. Said contents being you… dominating a man. Roped up cocky Yeonjun at mercy of every feather touch, squirming in his restraints, face a teary mess with his hair plastered onto his forehead from all the sweat, a ballgag drenched with his spit just to keep him shut, salivating dumbly down under his chin, the prettiest fucked out look, putting the little shit in his place and holy shit are you touching yourself?

Like some prude, you retract your hand out from under your pants and curse yourself at seeing your fingers stick because of your substance—Yeonjun was driving you crazy. And you hated it, he was at most five years younger than you and throughout your life span, you have never felt anything for a younger man—its always been a turn off. Especially when it shows. And with Yeonjun, oh it showed.

Even now as your reverie gets broken by an unrythmic knock similar to before, leading you to be faced by Yeonjun. For the second time today.

His stance is a lot different than an hour ago, almost like that one time on the elevator. “…Hey?” You start out with raised eyebrows.

Confused by his silence you assume what this was about, “I seriously don’t mind the party, I’ll be—”

Your eyes widen in surprise when Yeonjun’s lips crash on yours, roughly taking you up a wind before the realizations sets in the moment his hand start going places it should not be going. You bite down on his lip and he pulls away instantly, groaning, wide eyed, tears already springing on his waterline from the pain. He has the audacity to look offended as he yells with childish shriek of his voice, “What the hell?!”

“Are you insane? Who gave you the right to kiss me you fucking pervert?” You yell back, still shocked at his sudden advancement, finger lingering on your lips.

He visibly deflates with a knit of his eyebrows, eyes wide, "Um? You...you just told me you had a sex dream...of me."

"So?" you whisper-shout exasperated.

"I thought—"

You cut him off. "You thought what? I'd let you barge in here like some lead in a porno and...fuck me?"

He seems to think for a few seconds before literally...nodding, making you nearly gasp. "Well, sort of...yeah? I mean, women don't tell you that they've had a wet dream about you without trying to say something non-verbally." He seems almost proud when he says that, as if he has hundreds of experience in women psych.

Holy fuck. You dreamed about fucking this kid. A dumb frat whose probably got everything handed to him just because he was moderately pretty.

But maybe he wasn't too far off, because you find yourself stupidly attracted to his slightly bruised lip from your bite earlier, his eyes still glossy, iris looking up waiting for you to say something. Holy shit.

"How old are you?" If the age gap was bigger than three years—

"Turned twenty-three last September. Why?"

Two years. Oh fuck, to hell with it all.

You ignore his question and jump straight in the cold, freezing water. "How...much are you willing to do to...fuck me?" The question came out a lot more awkward than you intended.

He huffs out a laugh incredulously waiting for you to say that was a joke, but too much time has passed and now he's seriously thinking it over for a second. "Um...a lot? I don't know. I'm just super horny right now."

If you were in your right mind, you would've rejected him. Out the door he would've been because the way he drawled super had to have been the biggest turn off. But you were also a woman at mercy to her sexual desires. And right now, your sexual desire was Yeonjun.

"Okay," you exhale. "Sure. Let's fuck. But we're doing this my way."

-----

You surprisingly don't possess any toys...other than an unused dildo. You're not sure if he'd be too into that, or if you know him enough to even propose such an idea. So... you’re left empty handed; now all you had was your word and control.

And the slight age difference seemed to help it out too. “I-I’m—holy shit— I’m gonna cum noona, noona—"

Abruptly, you move from his neck that you were just lightly sucking on, hand once palming him over his sweats, retracted. He whines from the loss of friction, opening his shut eyes to give you the nastiest look as he tries to quickly bring back his high but he clearly fails when he groans, nearly feeling his eyes get teary. "Why the fuck would you do that?"

"I told you to stop calling me noona. Plus, I'm not gonna let you soil your pants the minute I get my hands on you."

Wild runs in his eyes and its unlike you’ve seen him. "Holy shit, you're so—" But it’s not intimidating. You cut him off by straddling his lap, and if you weren’t nicer you would’ve laughed at how fast his expression changed. Dumb kid.

He was totally awestricken, wetting his lips for a second until opening them again, "—fucking hot."

You strike a sharp blow across his face, the slap silencing him abruptly. His lips are slightly parted, confusion ridden in his features, his cheek quickly turning a shade of red, ears ringing—then you start grinding and his expression once again morphs into something sinfully pathetic, except this time he had those tears threatening to spill. “Don’t call me hot again. Understood?”

“It’s a fucking complim—”

You shove two fingers in his mouth to attempt of actually shutting this man up, and for a bit it serves to gag him until a lewd thought popped in your head. “Suck. Or I kick you out and you can jerk off your stupid dick alone.”

He immediately obeys, sucking on your two fingers, his saliva coating them. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was shifting his position and not attempting to buck his hips like a dumb rabid dog. He was getting off from this.

You were proven more when you start pumping your digits in his mouth, too fascinated at how he sucks in his cheeks, making eye contact, whining on your fingers. “Why’re you so frustrating? Could’ve been a good boy from the beginning.”

You rolled your hips into his more, his dick hardening you’re surprised he hasn’t complained yet. “When are we gonna fuck?” He whines when your fingers are out of his watering mouth.

Clearly, you speak too soon.

“Never if you keep being a fucking bitch. You know how much sleep I lost because of your idiotic shenanigans? Let me have my fun.”

A lot. He was insufferable the first three months, dark circles getting more deep set. Feeling anger bubble up, you move to roughly trailing wet kisses down his neck and goodness is he audible—his soft moans are truly music to your ears. “You’re loud.”

And it gets you to needily grind down on his bulge even more, your core aching. Unfortunately, he takes this as you scolding him to be quiet, and so for a second, he’s extremely quiet. “No, no, want you to be loud. Love your needy voice, such a pretty dumb boy.” you breathe, getting off on his lap.

You suck hard on a sensitive spot and he spasms, whimpering. “Noona—”

You bite down on his exposed shoulder and Yeonjun cries. “Told you to stop calling me that freak.”

“Don’t care, I wanna call you noona,” you swallow the lump in your throat because the honorific does spur you on his lap, “My noona.”

Your eyes widen, flustered hands raising to slap him again, which he doesn’t dodge. Hot cheeks so red from the two times you hit his pretty face, tears long spilling down them, is so much better than the dream—except his bratty smirk pulls you out of the fantasy. “Stop pushing it dumb frat.”

His hips buck to hump up against your pussy and you really start to think he enjoys getting slapped. “P-please, want your pussy. Been thinking about it all week.”

“All week?”

“Y-yeah, since that guy fucked you dumb, like a bitch.” If it weren’t for how distracted you were getting by his twitching dick in between your thighs, you would’ve given him another strike against his face—and maybe then he would’ve shut up for good.

“You want to fuck me like a bitch?” you slur in his ear in mock tone, “You?”

He furrows his brows, visibly getting haughty. “Yes, me. What about it?” he bites.

You whine at the cute knit of his brows, the pout that rests his pretty lips. You lean to kiss them, you’ve been thinking of doing that since the beginning—they looked so pillowy, soft, everything you could now feel as he eagerly returns the chaste mouth to mouth.

It’s quick to turn messy, spit smothered by the side of his lips when you cup his cheeks—then you let go, abruptly. Yeonjun tries to blindly chase your lips, but you’re unrelenting, working yourself on his lap. “You can’t fuck me like him Jjunie.”

“I can fuck your brains out, you—” He’s mid barking back at your statement, his ego clearly beaten down to the ground, but you do the next thing you’ve been dying to try—playing with his nipples. You graze them with your thumb when you’ve had your hands under his shirt for a good minute—a fact unnoticed by the man under you—and that gets him mewling. Mewling.

“F-fuck, don’t touch me there..”

“But I thought you could fuck my brains out?” you mock with a pout, “How come you get like this just by…”

You pinch his nipples slightly and he throws his back on the couch almost immediately, whimpering through his tightly closed lips. “Me touching your tits?”

“Don’t c-call them that.”

“Tits? But you like this don’t you?” you ask softly, studying every bit of a jerk, or a slight quiver of his bottom lip. He loved every second of this, but you needed him to tell you. You stop massaging his nips, removing your hand entirely from under his shirt, which gets his eyes to fly open, holding your wrist. “I do! I do. I like it when you play with my tits.” he says exasperated, raising your hand under his shirt again.

What a desperate whore.

You smirk, incredibly engrossed by his eagerness, and his swollen glistening lips from your brief makeout earlier. “Yeah?” you drawl, pressing on his bud just a tiny bit, and he nods. Thank god he was sensitive.

“Mhm.” he hums, still pathetically chasing your warmth. All he can think with is his dick.

“Thought about wrecking my tight, little pussy so bad all week, huh? Jerked off to the thought all week? Poor baby. Then I have to make it up to you today don’t I?” you know those words would make him act up more, getting him unbearably hard to the point its torture. And god, now your panties were uncomfortably sticking to your pussy.

“N-noona let me—let me—” Yeonjun’s crying more as the friction between your bodies gets too overwhelming for him— and gosh, does he look like such a dumb boy; none of his cocky stupid shit from earlier.

It was hot.

“Want my pussy?”

His nods are frantic, so much that you snort. “Yes, yes please. Wanted to fuck you dumb ever since you came over. You never gave me any attention, jus’ wanted to make a mess of you, cumming all over your tits—”

No way. He was a pervert from the beginning? You thought he hated your guts just as much as you did him. “Did that filthy fantasy give you a good enough reason to ruin my sleep schedule and ..and all my chances at a promotion? Huh? Because of you i can’t even dream of it—“

You were lying. Losing sleep had definitely affected your work performance but it wasn’t to the point you couldn’t aim for a little promotion. But you liked seeing his guilt pool in, crying, crying sooo pathetically. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know noona, I swear.”

His hiccups are enough to get you to fasten your speed on his lap, the friction working to get you off.

“Yeah. Because your undeveloped brain can’t grasp at the real worlds consequence. I hate guys like you. So immature and dumb.”

That snaps something in him clearly as he finds the tongue to retort, “If you hated me you—you wouldn’t be getting off on my cock.”

You scoff, especially at picking up on the strained moan he tries to conceal, the shudder of his body giving away the orgasm. Choi Yeonjun just came. Untouched.

You could feel it between your legs, the warmth spread disgustingly all over and you grimace. “Gross.”

He groans out of embarrassment, hiding his face with an arm. And now you’re just sitting on his wet lap, contemplating two things. Kicking him out or getting to satisfy your needs?

Unfortunately, the banging on a door pauses your movement of unbuckling his jeans and you can’t hide the roll of your eyes. “Yeonjun! Are you home?!”

Convenient timing. Not.

You don’t let your disappointment show—he came and you hadn’t. You instead turn to face him, giving him a mocking smile, “You have a party to host ...oops.” And at least end it with the illusion you had the upper hand.

But Yeonjun is not as willing to give it up. “I don’t give a shit. I host these weekly,” Oh, you know. “…Can you at the least …let me eat you out?”

#############################

a/n; lol this got longer than i intended to the point i was thinking about naming it and getting it out as an actual fic but ehhhhh ill leave it raw 🥲 wish my shitty neighbor was yeonjun but we move 😁!!!!!

[kimkhimhant]

Hello! I'm back! (I was driving earlier so couldn't really look at the list very well.) K and M for the ask game?

im so sorry it took me so long to answer this lmao but thank you so much for the ask !!

K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

um well, i have a few mcd plots in my fic ideas folder (im so sorry kim), even though i haven't started writing any of them and idk if i will.

but, in the wake of your exile (my fake-death fic)(which i swear im still gonna finish) was actually inspired by an actual death fic idea where ghost!kim watches everyone grieve and has to cope with the fact that all this grief he's seeing is love that was never given to him while he was alive. but i ended up changing the plot so that he only fakes his death, watches everyone grieve, and then comes back at the end (only half dead) and has to face everyone's grief, anger, and the love he doesn't know how to accept. i only changed it to this because i made myself too sad thinking about ghost kim never getting to come back to his brothers lol. but the new plot was only half-formed and now im Struggling so. ugh but yeah, that's the angstiest i guess, but like. this tender violence, and the hell i put him through in tigtw..... i only know angst sorry

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?

i have so many premises on the back burner TT.TT including the above, my poor abandoned hanahaki and vampire fics, another post-canon reconciliation fic (more kim whump. its a sick fic) and a 2ha ranwan fic where chu wanning is a concert pianist who volunteers as a music teacher at the juvenile detention center mo ran is incarcerated in

ty again for sending <3