#this is such a strong bond to me and i look up to my ancestors

[lortsyall]

Echoes of Eywa's Child.

chapter 2.

(Neteyam x Human!Reader series)

Pending...Pending...

Date: August 10th,2170.

Location: Marui,High Camp,Mons Veritatis,Hallelujah Mountains,Pandora.

Time: 1:56 PM.

Life had always demanded more of me. As the eldest son of Toruk Makto the 6th, I was born into expectations as heavy as the mountains, molded by a legacy I had no choice but to carry. For as long as I could remember, my path was laid before me—protector, warrior, leader,big brother. It was a path carved in blood and sacrifice, one I couldn’t veer from even if I wanted to.

The war had changed everything. When the RDA returned when I was only 15, they came with the same greed, the same hunger to strip Eywa’s creation of its breath. Their machines burned forests and poisoned rivers, their soldiers brought death with cold precision. But the war wasn’t just an enemy out there—it had carved itself into me.

I’d come closer to death than I care to admit. Fleeing to the Metkayina clan with my family,away from Quaritch and his puppets,was traumatizing,to say the least.

I always fit in the Omatikaya clan. I was already respected by so many clan leaders across the globe,already seen as a strong-willed,responsible and noble young warrior. The perfect next Olo'eyktan in line. But here...at sea...I was too stubborn to learn the ways of the Metkayina,scared I might lose myself. My ancestors. My traditions. The forest...Everything.

Sooner or later though,you always have to wake up back to reality. The RDA’s ships had pursued us relentlessly, their weapons tearing through the sea and air like the rage of a storm. After saving my siblings and our friend,Tsireya,my brother insisted on saving Spider as well.

I'll admit,I followed my mother's steps in distancing myself away from him as the years went by,though the brotherly bond we have carried ever since childhood lingered like a lost memory. Plus,I couldn't deny Lo'ak anything. Not in that moment.

As soon as we turned our backs to jump into the water,though...I felt it.

I’d hit the water hard, the force ripping the breath from my lungs. I fought to surface, but the panic, the crushing weight of the sea—it almost won.

All I could hear were Lo'ak's desperate cries pulling me on an ilu as he dragged me back to shore,along with the others. When I woke up, the first thing I felt was pain—white-hot and searing, burning across my chest where shrapnel had torn through flesh. The Tsahìk saved me, but she couldn’t erase the scar, jagged and cruel, that now ran from my collarbone to just above my heart,nor the memory that came with it. A bitter reminder of how close I’d come to losing everything.

That scar has stayed with me, a mark of survival, but also of failure. I should’ve been stronger, faster, better. I’m alive, but at what cost? The memory of my siblings’ terror, my parents’ fear—it’s a weight I still carry, even in moments of peace.

Sometimes,I still hear my mother's screams late at night. It's terrifying.

And now, the war feels like a constant shadow, lingering even in the quiet. I’ve learned to keep my thoughts guarded, my fears buried. We're back in the forest,thankfully,but we still live in the Hallelujah Mountains. The clan looks to me for strength, for guidance. They see a warrior who has proven himself time and time again. They don’t see the cracks beneath, the moments when I wonder if I’ve given too much of myself to a fight that may never truly end.

I’m of age now. Been for some time. I went through all the rites of passage,starting with becoming the youngest Omatikaya to make a clean kill on the Sturmbeest hunt,going through Iknimaya,and surviving Uniltaron,the Dream Hunt. After transferring into adulthood, an Omatikaya Na'vi has two things left to do: craft a bow from the wood of the fallen Hometree,and find a mate. Yet I've checked only one thing on the list,and I guess it's obvious which one I'm talking about.

I get it. I'm 19 years old now. Old enough that the elders murmur about a mate, about settling down and adding to the clan’s numbers. My parents don’t pressure me—at least not directly—but I see it in my father’s proud nods, my mother’s quiet glances. They’re waiting for me to choose, to find someone who will stand beside me as I carry the mantle of our people. Not to mention,my brother has already been mated to Tsireya,and some people among the clan are...nosy, to say the least.

But how can I think of mates when my mind is a battlefield? When every time I look at the stars, I see the faces of those we’ve lost? Love feels like a luxury I can’t afford, a vulnerability I can’t risk. I can feel my father breathing down my neck,slowly preparing me with Olo'eyktan training. I don't even want to be the next chief. Not anymore. I’ve buried the idea so deep within me that even the thought of connection feels foreign,and I can't remember the first time I really opened up to someone. They already have their image of me.

Fierce young warrior. Next chief in line. Son of Toruk Makto. Great,right?Why should I ruin that for them?

And yet, there’s a part of me that wonders—when will I be more than this? When will I be something more than a protector, more than a warrior? Is there space for Neteyam beneath the weight of it all?

The air was thick with the smell of burning metal and the acrid tang of gunpowder. Around me, the sounds of battle echoed through the forest—the hum of RDA machinery, the snap of Na’vi bows, the shouts of humans and my people alike. My heart pounded in my chest, not from fear, but from the weight of responsibility.

My feet barely made a sound as I landed on the roof of the human truck. Beneath me, I could hear their muffled voices, panicked and sharp. They were scrambling, caught off guard by our ambush. Good.

I moved to the edge, my bow drawn and ready, scanning for my next target. That’s when I saw…her.

She was crouched behind a crate, her wide eyes darting around in terror. Her skin was almost glowing in the dim light, and her hands trembled as they gripped a human weapon. She was small, fragile even, compared to the others.

A soldier, perhaps? No, she didn’t move like one. She was scared, out of place. A tablet was in her small and dainty fingers,and it looked oddly familiar,like the ones Max and Norm usually toy with in the lab. So a scientist,then. Doesn’t matter.

I drew my bowstring tighter, the arrow poised to fly. My target was clear, my purpose steady. Until I saw it.

An atokirina.

The seed of the sacred tree floated gently down, its soft glow cutting through the chaos. My breath caught as it hovered near the girl, circling her like it was studying her. And then it landed, just for a moment, on her shoulder. Didn’t this happen to my parents when they met?

Eywa was watching. Yet the girl didn’t notice.

I hesitated, my fingers loosening on the bowstring. This wasn’t normal. The atokirina didn’t just appear without reason, and they didn’t linger around those unworthy of Eywa’s blessing. Yet here it was, touching her—a human.

Her gaze was fixed on the ground, her breathing shallow. She had no idea the seed was there, no idea what it meant,too focused on her own panicked heavy breathing.

The voices of the other warriors faded into the background. For a moment, it was just her, the glowing seed, and me.

I lowered my bow.

I could hear my father’s voice in my head, a memory from years ago: "Eywa sees more than we do, Neteyam. Sometimes, the why is not ours to understand."

“Drop it,” I said, my voice steady despite the conflict brewing inside me.

She looked up, startled, her eyes locking onto mine. Great Mother,what pretty eyes she has. It’s as if I could see her entire soul through them. For a second, I thought she might try to fight, but instead, she set the weapon down on the truck bed. Slowly, carefully.

I studied her. She was different from the others—softer, quieter. And yet, there was something in her eyes that spoke of a hidden strength. And me?Well,let’s just say there was something almost…ethereal and noble in her fear that made me admire her.

“You do not belong here,” I said.

Her lips parted, as if she wanted to respond, but no words came out. The atokirina hovered again, as if to emphasize my point, before drifting off into the trees.

I couldn’t explain why, but I felt a strange pull toward her. Not sympathy—not yet—but curiosity. Eywa had chosen her for something, and it wasn’t my place to question the will of the Great Mother.

The sound of an AMP suit crashing nearby snapped me back to reality.

“Run,” I urged her, my voice low.

“What—”

“Go!” I barked, the command sharper now. She flinched but obeyed, scrambling off the truck and disappearing into the chaos. I cannot let the others see her,or she’ll get an arrow straight to her heart. The Great Mother put this responsibility in my hands,and I simply cannot let her get hurt. It must be a sign.

When the ambush was over, I retreated with the others, my thoughts still tangled around the human girl. The site was a mess,but at least we did what we had in mind. All of their cargo was either destroyed or stolen,and I doubt they won’t send out search parties for our heads.

Back at our camp, I sat by the fire, staring into the flames thoughtfully. Their dance was mesmerizing, a kaleidoscope of amber and gold licking against charred wood, with hints of blue at the edges where the heat was fiercest. The fire cracked and hissed, tiny sparks shooting upward to join the stars above. It felt alive, almost like Eywa herself whispered through its flickering rhythm.

Yet, even as the flames captivated me, my thoughts were elsewhere. On her. The girl in the forest.

Her scent still lingered faintly in my memory, something soft and sweet, like flowers I couldn’t name mixed with earth after rain. Her big eyes had been filled with fear, yet there had been something else too—curiosity, maybe? Defiance? I couldn’t decide which had unsettled me more. Her delicate frame, so unlike the strength we Na’vi pride ourselves on, seemed breakable, yet her spirit shone through her trembling form.

And then there was the atokirina. A single seed of the great tree had floated between us, its gentle glow bathing her face in an ethereal light. It had hovered briefly, as though weighing something unseen, before drifting closer to her. The moment felt... significant, as though Eywa herself had chosen her. Funny how she did not even notice such a blessing.

I had been ready to draw my bow, my duty clear in my mind. Sky People were a threat. A poison. It doesn’t matter that I share both human and Na’vi ancestors. Neither does the fact that my dad was one of them once. In my eyes,he is Na’vi. Just as everyone part of the Resistance. Yet the sight of her—so pure, so deliberate,so…utterly chaotic and scared—lingers in my thoughts. Something in me shifted then, a quiet nudge deep within my soul. I let her go, even when I knew my parents would question my decision.

Now, as the fire crackled before me, I couldn’t help but wonder: who was she? Why did Eywa send a sign? And why did I feel as though letting her go had set something far greater into motion?

The camp was buzzing with movement. The humans part of the Resistance were all in the biolab quarters, tending to their Avatars’ wounds. Lo’ak, my younger brother, plopped down beside me, his usual smirk replaced by a look of concern.

“You’re quiet,” he said, poking at the fire with a stick. “Sa’eyla said some shit went down. Something happen out there?”

I hesitated. “There was a girl.”

He raised an eyebrow. “A girl? Like, a human girl?”

“Yes,” I said, my voice firm. “And Eywa sent an atokirina to her.”

Lo’ak looked at me, confused, the stick in his hand forgotten. “What do you mean?”

I let out a loud sigh. Why is this interaction with her bothering me so much? “Just as I was ready to fire my bow, an atokirina landed on the head of this tawtute eve. As if telling me to lower my bow.”

“Are you serious?”

“I am.”

He let out a low whistle. “Well, that’s... something.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping. “What are you gonna do about it?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. For now. It’s not like I can do much, anyway.”

“Sounds like someone’s already in over his head,” came Kiri’s teasing voice as she approached from the shadows. She carried a bundle of herbs, her expression curious. “What’s this about an atokirina?”

Lo’ak smirked, scooting over to make room for her by the fire. “Our big brother here almost got bested by Eywa’s will.”

Kiri raised an eyebrow, sitting down. “That sounds interesting. Go on.”

I hesitated, but I knew Kiri’s connection to Eywa might help make sense of this. “There was a human girl. She wasn’t like the others—she didn’t fight. And an atokirina came to her. It lingered above her head. Right as I was about to…to kill her.”

Kiri’s expression turned thoughtful. She set the herbs aside, her hands resting on her knees. “Eywa does not make mistakes, Neteyam.”

“I know,” I said, frustrated. “But why her? She’s... she’s one of them. I have no idea why it’s bothering me so much. It’s like a buzz in my head.”

Lo’ak snorted. “Maybe the Great Mother’s matchmaking now.”

“Lo’ak,” Kiri said sharply, shooting him a look that silenced his grin. Her attention returned to me. “Eywa sees the heart, not the body. Maybe this girl is different. Maybe she’s meant to change something.”

I frowned, staring at the fire as its light danced across the darkened camp. “But how can I trust that? How can I trust her? I don’t even know her name and yet…” I hesitated, running a hand down my face. I really don’t need another teasing remark from Lo’ak.  “Gosh, I don’t even want to think about it anymore. Forget it.”

Kiri smiled faintly, her voice soft. “Sometimes, Eywa doesn’t ask for trust. She asks for faith.”

Lo’ak leaned back, looking between us with a sly grin. “Well, sounds like you’ve got a lot to think about, bro. Or maybe, you’re just scared of a tawtute girl.”

I shot him a glare, but Kiri nudged his arm before I could retort. “Leave him alone, Lo’ak,” she said, her tone amused but protective. “This isn’t something to joke about.”

Her gaze returned to me, her expression serious. “Whatever it is, Neteyam, trust that Eywa will reveal it in time. You’ll know what to do when the moment comes.”

And as the fire crackled between us, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of her words. Whether I was ready for it or not, my path—and hers—was no longer just my own.

In the days following the ambush, my thoughts lingered on her. I hadn’t told my parents yet. My father, Jake, carried enough weight on his shoulders. Every decision, every strategy, every skirmish—it was all for the survival of our people. He didn’t need my confusion about a single human clouding his focus. And my mother, Neytiri… she wouldn’t understand. Her hatred for the sky people ran deep, forged in blood and loss, and for good reason.

But I couldn’t ignore it.

One evening, I couldn’t sleep. Tossing and turning in my marui,only to be kept awake by my own thoughts. I hated whenever this happened. When no position was comfortable,my skin felt on fire and I would get more annoyed and tired by the second. I got up and slowly made my way through the campgrounds,passing by people alike,lost in their dreams.

What I’d do to be in their place.

Calling for my ikran, I waited as she descended gracefully, her form blending seamlessly with the star-speckled sky. When she landed, I took a moment to rest my forehead against hers, finding comfort in her steady presence. Together, we soared into the night, the cool wind sweeping away some of the weight on my chest.

Our destination was inevitable: the remnants of Utraya Mokri.

Once, long before I was born, this was the site of the great Tree of Voices—a place of profound connection where our ancestors’ memories thrived. But during the war, the humans came and destroyed it, severing that sacred link. In its place, saplings had begun to grow, fragile yet persistent, spreading slowly across the scarred land. They shimmered now, soft bioluminescent light dancing in the dark. It was a bittersweet sight—proof of Eywa’s resilience, but also a reminder of what had been lost.

I landed and dismounted, walking to the center of the grove. The soil was cool beneath me as I sat cross-legged, surrounded by the glow of the saplings. Gently, I wrapped the tendrils of a sacred vine around my queue, seeking solace in even the faintest connection. It wasn’t strong enough to download memories or speak with the ancestors, but it was something—a tether to Eywa. And maybe, just maybe, she would hear me.

The connection came swiftly, a wave of warmth and calm coursing through me, easing the storm within. I closed my eyes, lowering my head.

“Great Mother,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Why her? Why a sky person?”

The forest seemed to exhale, its life humming softly around me. The glow of the saplings pulsed gently, as if in answer. I tried to silence my doubts, to push past the fear and confusion. My father had always told me to trust Eywa, even when her ways seemed inscrutable. But this... this felt different.

A memory surfaced unbidden—my father’s voice from years ago. He had been telling us about how Eywa had chosen him, a human, to unite the clans. “Eywa doesn’t see as we do, Neteyam,” he’d said. “She sees balance. Potential. She sees what we cannot.”

A force for balance,maybe. For something greater than I could comprehend.

The thought brought both comfort and unease. I opened my eyes to the glow of the saplings, their light steady and unyielding.

“Help me understand,” I murmured, my words barely audible. The forest around me thrummed once more, but no answer came—at least, not in words. Yet the stillness wasn’t empty. It carried something intangible, something that settled in my heart.

Perhaps the answer would come in time.For now, it would have to be enough.

The jungle was alive with its usual symphony of sounds—the distant calls of viperwolves, the rustle of leaves as a gust of wind swept through the trees. But my focus was razor-sharp, every movement of my body calculated as I followed the humans' trail.

Our scouts had reported another transport heading deeper into the forest, likely bringing more machines or weapons.My father had been clear: Observe, but do not engage. Watch, learn, and then strike if the time is right.

I crouched on a thick branch, hidden by the foliage, my bow resting lightly in my hand. Below me, the humans moved in a tight formation, their vehicles rumbling loudly and their voices carrying through the air. Among them, I saw her again.

She wasn’t dressed like a soldier. Her clothing was simpler, and she carried a small device in her hands, her gaze flicking between it and the terrain around her. She looked… out of place, as though she belonged somewhere quieter, somewhere far from the chaos of this world.

The same tug I’d felt during the ambush returned, stronger this time. But I forced it down.

She’s one of them.

And yet, I couldn’t look away.

We shadowed them for hours, moving through the trees as they trudged through the undergrowth. They stopped occasionally, setting up equipment and scanning the area. The girl seemed focused on whatever task she had been assigned,a small fierce nature in her body, but there was a tension in her posture, a hesitance in her movements.

As the group reached a clearing, my father’s voice came through the earpiece we used for communication.

“Pathfinder, fall back. Let them move on.Over.”

I hesitated. Something wasn’t right.

“Neteyam,” my father’s voice was firmer now. Shit. “Do you copy?”

“Yes,father.” I replied quietly. But I didn’t move.

The attack happened so fast, even I didn’t see it coming.

Viperwolves, drawn by the noise of the humans’ machines, erupted from the shadows. Their snarls shattered the fragile quiet, and the humans scrambled into action, shouting and firing their weapons. Chaos consumed the clearing, the air thick with smoke, fear, and violence.

And in the middle of it all, I saw her freeze.

Her wide eyes darted around, her body stiff as stone. She didn’t run, didn’t fight. Instead, she crouched low, pressing herself against a fallen log, trying to make herself invisible as the chaos surged around her.

I should’ve left. I should’ve followed my father’s orders, retreated into the safety of the trees. But the sight of her, small and vulnerable, anchored me in place. I couldn’t leave her.

Before I realized it, I was moving.

I landed silently behind her, my bow slung over my shoulder as I unsheathed my knife. The viperwolves hadn’t noticed her yet, but it wouldn’t be long before they caught her scent. I could see their noses twitching at the foreign human scent.

“Move,” I whispered, my voice low but firm.

She whipped around. For a moment, she didn’t react, her mouth opening slightly as if to say something. I could see it in her eyes. She recognized me.

“Holy shit,you��”

“Now!” I hissed, grabbing her arm and pulling her up.

She stumbled but followed, her legs moving awkwardly as I led her away from the clearing. The sounds of gunfire and snarls faded as we put distance between ourselves and the fight.

The forest was eerily quiet now, the aftermath of the viperwolf attack leaving a tense stillness in the air. She stood there, staring at me with wide eyes, her breaths coming fast and shallow. I could see the tremor in her hands, the slight quake of her legs—fear, exhaustion, or both.

I didn’t know what I was doing. Eywa’s will tugged at me like a strong current, the memory of the atokirina circling her vivid in my mind.

I raised a hand to my throat comm, pressing it lightly as I spoke in Na’vi. “Eagle Eye, I have a situation,over.”

“Holy shit,dude!Where’d you disappear?Over-” My brother’s voice came through, laced with confusion. I figure he fled back with the others. “What’s going on?”

“I found that girl again. The one I told you about. I’m taking her back to camp. Go on without me.Over.” I said, my words clipped. I’ll never hear the end of it.

“What?” Lo’ak’s shock was evident, his voice rising. “Why would you—”

“I’ll explain later. Tell Father and Kiri to meet me. And be ready. Over and out.”

Before Lo’ak could respond, I cut the connection and turned back to the girl. Her gaze flicked between me and the trees, as if she was debating whether to run.

“You’re coming with me,” I said firmly.

Her brow furrowed. “What? No, I—”

I didn’t give her a chance to finish. Stepping forward, I grabbed her wrist—not hard, but enough to guide her—and began leading her through the trees,calling for my ikran. She struggled against my grip.

“Let go of me!Are you fucking insane?!Why did you–” she hissed.

“We need to move,” I said sharply,cutting her off. “The forest isn’t safe for you.”

“Yeah,no shit.” she bit back,panic present in her tone. Does she think I’m kidnapping her?

When my ikran came to us, the girl froze, her eyes widening at the sight of the massive, winged creature. It let out a low growl, its sharp eyes narrowing at her.

“No way,” she said, shaking her head. “I am not getting on that thing.”

“You don’t have a choice,” I said, swinging up onto the ikran’s back and reaching down for her.

She hesitated, but when the distant laugh of a viperwolf echoed through the trees, she grabbed my hand and let me pull her up. She’s so light.

“Hold on,” I said, guiding her arms around my waist.

She muttered something under her breath, but she obeyed.

With a sharp call, I urged my ikran into the air, the wind rushing past us as we soared above the forest.

The Hallelujah Mountains loomed ahead, their floating peaks glowing faintly in the evening light. I focused on the flight, trying to ignore the growing tension I felt with her pressed against my back.

It wasn’t until we began our descent toward the high base that she spoke.

“You think I don’t understand you?”

Her voice, so sudden, startled me. She was quiet the entire ride and now she speaks?

I twisted slightly to glance back at her, my eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about?”

“When you spoke earlier, in Na’vi. I understood you. You’re taking me back to...to torture me or what?!” she said, her tone biting,but I could sense the fear and tremble in her tone. Feisty little thing.

My heart skipped a beat. She understood? How?

“You speak my language?” I asked, my voice sharp with disbelief.

“You didn’t answer my question!” she snapped, her grip tightening on my waist as the ikran dipped slightly. Fuck,I’m getting lightheaded with the way her tiny hands grips my waist like that. “Why does it matter? Why am I here?”

I didn’t answer immediately. We landed on a wide platform near the high base, the soft thud of the ikran’s claws echoing against the rock. She climbed off quickly, putting distance between us as she glared at me. How do I even explain to her?

“Tell me,” she demanded, her voice rising. “Why did you take me? Why didn’t you just leave me there?”

I slid off the ikran, keeping my gaze steady on hers. “You would have died.”

“I could’ve handled it!” she said, her voice trembling with frustration. Yeah,right. Surely you would have handled dying,little tawtute. “I didn’t ask for your help!”

I took a step closer, my expression hard. “And yet,you were frozen. If I hadn’t acted, the viperwolves would have torn you apart.”

Her anger faltered, and she looked away, her fists clenching at her sides. “I didn’t need saving.”

“You don’t understand this world,” I said, my voice softening. “It’s not like Earth. It will kill you if you’re not careful.”

She looked back at me then, her eyes burning with a mix of anger and something else—something I couldn’t quite place.

“Then why not leave me there?Away from the attack.” she asked quietly. “Why take me with you?”

For a moment, I didn’t know how to answer. The truth was tangled up in feelings I didn’t fully understand myself—in the memory of the atokirina, in the way Eywa seemed to whisper through the forest that she was important. In the way I felt when I stared into her eyes.

“Because we need intel from inside the RDA. And you seemed like a good fit,you know. Small,feisty scientist who didn’t show any signs of a threat. ” I lied, the words slipping out before I could stop them,though I kept a certain amount of smugness in my teasing.

Her brows furrowed in confusion,almost as if she was…offended. “What are you talking about?”

I hesitated, debating how much to tell her. I pet my ikran before I started wlalking into a cave. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” she said, crossing her arms.

Gosh,she’s so infuriating. Maybe I should have left her with the viperwolves. I turn around to her,simply cross my arms in defiance,towering over her small stature with a silent smirk. For a moment, she was observing, her gaze searching mine. I'm too stubborn to talk further. Plus,she's...pretty like this. She let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” I said, a faint smile tugging at my lips. She’s got jokes,huh. I like that. “Takes one to know one.”

Her laughter faded, and she looked at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “What happens now?”

I straightened, my resolve hardening. “I…don’t know. We’ll figure it out once we get there.”

She didn’t argue this time. Instead, she simply nodded, her shoulders slumping slightly as if the fight had gone out of her.

“And for the record,I’m not going to torture you. We’re not barbarians.”

I heard a weak chuckle leave her lips as she followed behind me,and…it was a pretty sweet sound. 

But I knew this was only the beginning. Whatever Eywa’s plan was, it had already begun.

[tetrapaec]

One week left of being pregnant but ...

Wtf do you mean "invite via link"???

[myownwholewildworld]

THE WAY TO A GREAT WIDE SOMEWHERE

↪ a the mandalorian x beauty & the beast crossover

main masterlist | read on ao3 | easter eggs pairing: beast!din djarin x f!reader. summary: cursed to spend the rest of his days in Mand'alor, Din Djarin faces a threat that may break his peace: you. -or- a retelling of the beauty and the beast story. a/n: HAHAHA *manic laugh* HI! this has been a long time coming now. first and foremost, i'll start by saying that this whole brainrot was inspired by this beautiful moodboard by the very talented @almostfoxglove, please go see it because it's the main reason i wrote this fic. i have gone crazy trying to link both worlds so i hope some of you see/understand the easter eggs. feel free to come screech at me if you like it because i have been screaming into the abyss for weeks now. love you all, take care! <3 x warnings/tags (beware spoilers): 18+, mdni. set after the events of S2. grogu is BRIEFLY mentioned. if you're a SW purist, this ain't your fic, my friend. the stockholm syndrome is stockholming. beast!din. a fair bit of smut (you know all the usual warnings). sensory deprivation. kinda dom!din. monster fucking (this is a BATB crossover after all, sorry). death of a secondary character. reader is a blank slate. alternating pov. no use of y/n. italics means it's spoken in mando'a OR it's the beast's pov 👀 THIS IS THE WAY. w/c: ~24.3k. (HAHA SORRY) divider by @saradika-graphics taglist at the end 💖

11 ABY

“Take it with you. Don’t let anyone hav―” your father choked on his last words, a chesty cough wreaking havoc in his damp, bloody lungs. “It’ll take you to where you need to go. Find it. And destroy it,” he muttered as his grey eyes, crowned by bushy, white brows, bore into yours.

In your hands you held the device that had been passed down every generation in your family. It had been commissioned by Tarre Vizsla himself over a thousand years ago when he created the Darksaber ― a Pillio star compass to find not a physical location but his most valuable possession. For almost a millennium, your family had been the guardians of it.

And for as many centuries, your Jedi ancestors had been looking for the Darksaber after they had stolen the star compass from Vizsla. That Jedi blood was far too diluted now, just a remnant of what your family once was since none of you seemed to be Force sensitive. But the mission remained despite the passing of time, not so much the reason behind it.

Since your birth, this was all you knew: the thrill of the chase. Never settling down anywhere, never creating bonds with anyone outside of your tribe. You all were wanderers ― nomads who made home of no world. You knew no other life. It was what it was.

The Jedi star compass fit perfectly on the palm of your hand ― it was circular and slightly bigger than a locket. This one though was different, special even, because it was made of beskar, a metal alloy from Mandalore.

Your fingers caressed the lid, tracing the astromeridian lines with the tips, feeling each groove. Undoing the aurodium clasp, you opened the compass to find a plasma-encased supraluminite lodestone, perfectly centred. The plasma in this specific one, however, was not of a shimmering blue, but a deep, stagnant black. Its magnetism was so strong it buzzed, emitting a low vibrating noise.

You tapped the stone with your thumb, and the vibration pierced through your flesh and bone, travelling up your forearm and dissipating into your body before it reached your chest. You quickly removed your thumb, taken aback by the intensity of it all, eyes slightly widened.

“But father, you heard them. It’s already been destroyed. It’s over,” you whispered, tears trespassing the waterline of your tired eyes.

“They lie. Never trust one of them. Those power-thirsty ra―,” he coughed, pressing the wound that stained his clothing to stop the bleeding. You covered his hand with one of yours, the other still holding the compass. “I know we were close, we had to be. Promise me you’ll keep looking.”

“I promise, father,” you hushed, repressing the sob that threatened to tear your throat.

You laced your hand with his, unbothered by the blood, as you watched his eyes become dull, opaque and dead. His lungs exhaled the last breath while the grip of his hand on yours loosened.

You remained there for a few minutes, pain and grief gnawing at you, knelt by his deathbed, tinkering with the Pillio star compass. With your mother taken from you at childbirth and now your father perishing to an enemy, you had no blood relatives left. You were alone, stripped from the comfort of family.

You still had your tribe, but your connection to them was circumstantial. You grew up in their midst, but always felt like an outsider, a misfit who people felt forced to interact with because you were “the daughter of.”

It didn’t matter anyway.

You might not have known why your family kept on looking for the Darksaber, but now you knew why you had to search for it. It was your father’s last wish and that was enough reason for you.

“We must go,” Ashton’s voice reached your ears, but not your brain.

When you didn’t respond, he slowly approached you, kneeling by your side.

“Hey, I know this is hard, but we are really running out of time,” his firm arm wrapped around your waist to help you stand up.

Your knees trembled like a newborn qartuum but managed to stay upright on the soles of your feet. Taking a deep breath, you nodded.

“We need to leave Nevarro. It’s just a matter of time until our covert is discovered. They’ll come looking for him,” your head tilted in your father’s direction, voice flat and emotionless now. Stretching your back, you put distance between you and Ashton. “You find somewhere safe in the Outer Rim to lay low for a while. I need to see this done once and for all.”

“This what, exactly? You heard the same thing I did. Gideon crushed it. It’s over. We can finally live our own lives, find a home, settle down,” he muttered, a gloved hand looking for yours yet not finding it. He sounded so hopeful.

“I know what we heard. But my father… he thinks― thought it may be a ruse. I have to try, Ash. I can’t just leave this life behind, as if everything I’ve done has meant absolutely nothing,” you replied between gritted teeth, frustrated.

“Don’t waste any more years of your life on a wild goose chase, please. Let’s go back to the others. We can―” his hand finally found yours, lacing your fingers.

You looked down at your intertwined hands. It just felt odd, out of place even. Ashton was nothing more than a brother in arms to you.

You shook your head no, pulling your hand from his, breaking the contact, and looked at him directly in the eyes.

“No, Ash. There’s no “we” here. You do what you must, and so will I, simple as,” you rejected the unspoken offer, seeing the hurt consuming his blue eyes.

“What makes you think you can do this alone? Thousands of people have tried for centuries,” he quickly tried a different tactic, but his reproach unfazed you. “Let me come with you at least.”

“No. Our people need you to lead them into this new lifestyle, Ashton,” you refused, not even giving his proposal a second thought. “And you just made it clear, this is not the life you want, but it’s the one I do. Now go.”

Ashton pressed his lips together in frustration, gobsmacked by your bluntness. He’ll be fine, he’ll recover, you thought to yourself when you saw the pain of your rejection finally dawning on him.

“Have it your way then,” and with that, he left.

The compass weighed heavy on your hand and in your heart. But you couldn’t afford distractions nor being delayed by people. Not this time.

19 ABY

Weeks turned into months. And months into years. Eight, to be exact.

The passage of time was unfaltering, but so was your determination. Despite the many dead ends, the several disappointments and the near misses, you never stopped looking for the Darksaber.

There were days, however, that it all felt like an impossible task, that you truly believed that Moff Gideon had destroyed it. You couldn’t accept it though, not when you had spent eight more years hunting it down. It still had to exist. Right?

It was hard keeping the spirits up with no company to hear you vent your frustration. You had started talking out loud to yourself, your voice bouncing off the metal walls of your spacecraft.

Some days you regretted rejecting Ashton’s offer. The man had been nothing but kind to you, loyal too. You had your suspicions about his true intentions, but you never really saw him as anything more than a friend. You hoped that after all this time, he would have found someone who reciprocated him. Ash was a good man and deserved better than what you could have offered him. What you both wanted were two completely different things, incompatible ― he wanted a quiet life, you had preferred an adventurous one.

Given the same option today, however, you were not so sure of what you would have chosen.

Toying with the star compass, you looked through the windshield of the cockpit. Jumping through hyperspace at the speed of light always put you at ease ― the flashing of light as you passed through it left a rainbow of blue hues. The static noise was so calming, you relaxed into your seat.

Your attention returned to the device on your hand. Opening it again, you eagerly watched the metal semicircle twinkle, reflecting off the colours from the Hydian Way. It had not moved for a while, so you had set the course in the direction it pointed towards.

Unsure of the way it was taking you to, you had learnt to just let it take you where it pleased. Like a bantha following its herd on the vast, arid lands of Tatooine, your life for the past eight years had been reduced to following the hands of the star compass, and nothing else. And now, like every single time before, you would wind up in the middle of the great wide somewhere. Or nowhere.

Even if your eyes hadn’t been lazily transfixed on the lodestone, you could not have missed the louder buzzing it was emitting. You rapidly sat up on your seat, your thumb hovering over the stone while your heart jolted up to your throat. As the humming increased, the black plasma inside swirled and radiated a white, shimmering glow.

Only once had you seen it do something like that before, right before finding out that the Darksaber was supposedly destroyed by Gideon. You thought yourself so close to your objective in a stroke of sheer luck, you all had rushed towards the direction it marked and found absolutely nothing.

With blood drumming in your eardrums and heartrate spiking, you faced the panel of your starfighter and touched a few buttons in a trained dance of movements. Then you pulled a lever, and a sudden jerking motion stopped the spaceship on its tracks, easing out of hyperspace.

Back flattened against the back of your padded seat, you squinted your eyes to see where you were. It took you a good moment to recognise the worlds in front of you. But that couldn’t be, made no sense at all. Furrowing your brows, you looked down at the scope in front of you.

No, you were not mistaken. That was Mandalore and one of its moons, Concordia. The compass was vibrating so loud now, you had to close the lid to contain it. Did a double take on the scope, then back out to space.

You knew the story of what had happened here fifteen years ago ― Mandalore had become uninhabitable after the Night of the Thousand Tears. The Empire had made sure of it by brute force and unfair use of fusion bombs and rays, which reportedly left the surface of the planet crystallised and its atmosphere poisoned. No one who had ventured had ever returned, or so the legend went.

The compass hummed louder, still pressed between your hands, as if compelling you to decide, and to do it now. It couldn’t be that the Darksaber had found its way back to its homeworld. It completely defied common sense, the laws of space itself.

Concordia, on the other hand, was more promising, you thought. The best choice out of the worst possible options. Safest too. Probably.

Setting course towards the moon, the spacecraft slowly trudged forward. A loud sputtering sound coming from the thrusters almost made you jump, quickly followed by the incessant beeping sound of an alarm.

“Thrusters stabilizers compromised. Negative power couplers overheating,” the robotic, monotonous voice advised you.

Then your astromech droid, a yellow trimmed R3-D3 unit, started screeching so loud through your headset, you had to remove them.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed, taking complete manual control of the helm.

If the couplers didn’t cool down, you only had minutes until these completely overheated, causing an explosion.

Weighing your options, you let go of an expletive. Mandalore was closer, but you feared that the moment you entered its atmosphere, your starfighter, and you inside it, would combust to death. Concordia was further, which meant the possibility of exploding before reaching it was very high.

You were fucked either way. Both were evils, none the lesser.

“Alor (boss), something has entered the atmosphere,” Nau’ul, his protocol droid, announced in perfect Mando’a, with a metal finger pointing out the window.

Din’s brows knitted together, not that anyone could see with his helmet on. His attention drifted to the direction Nau’ul was indicating. The wrinkles between his eyes pronounced as his head tilted.

A small spaceship had breached the atmosphere of Mand’alor, appearing through the greyish clouds with a burning tail following it as it rapidly plummeted towards the surface, leaving a smoky halo behind.

With muscles tensed, Din got up from the chair and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, trying to catch a better glimpse of the type of aircraft that dared to break his peace.

It couldn’t be the New Republic, and he hoped to hell it wasn’t an Imperial ship either. Everyone thought Mand’alor was a thing of the past, a barren planet harbouring no life.

He had thought so too before finding himself adrift in space, injured within inches of his own death. Crippled as he was, his Razor Crest survived the bumpy ride and even bumpier landing, all thanks to the droids aboard. The same droids that had managed to nurse him back to health. Or, close to, anyway.

Through the visor of his damaged helmet, Din eagerly saw the spaceship disappear between the dense foliage and slab stones, nearby the Mines. He waited and hoped to see a column of dense smoke towering above the vegetation, but that vision never materialised. There had been no crash, at least not a major one. Which meant that, whoever was commandeering the ship, had probably survived.

“Fuck. Where’s Mrs. Kri’gee?” he turned around to face Nau’ul.

The protocol droid lifted his arms above his head, running towards the door, panicking.

“Mrs. Kri’gee! Mrs. Kri’gee! Where are you? You’re urgently needed! Report immediately!” the high pitch tone of his robotic voice almost pierced his eardrum.

Din stuck a gloved fingertip in his ear canal and wiggled it to ease the pressure building up in there. Nau’ul was too dramatic and too loud for being a mere droid.

He had not even turned the corner into the main hallway of his decrepit abode, that Mrs. Kri’gee appeared in front of them. Nau’ul got the jumpscare of his life, one of his hands landing on the metal breast piece where a heart should be had he been truly human.

“Mrs. Kri’gee reporting, jatne vod (sir),” replied the IG-series assassin droid, one of her hands flying to her temple to salute him. “How can I be of service?”

“We seem to have visitors. Follow me, gedet’ye (please),” and with no further ado, Din walked almost blindly through the maze of corridors, then down the lift, until the cold breeze greeted him.

The temperature outside was almost freezing, especially in winter. This winter was chillier than usual too, so Din and his droids only came out when it was strictly necessary. Even after all this time, it still surprised him how glacial it was out there. With not even a tiny patch of skin uncovered, Din could still feel the biting cold clinging onto his beskar armour, seeping in through the smallest nook it could find. It could clutch around the bones easily, freezing you in place in a matter of minutes.

Not that he could tell the difference anyway, considering how fucking cold he felt under his skin. How icy it was inside of him, a never-ending snowstorm waging war on his numb heart.

Perhaps he shouldn’t hurry ― if he slowed down enough, and with a bit of luck, the unwanted guests might perish to the unforgiving cold of wintery Mand’alor.

With Mrs. Kri’gee on his heels, Din moved through the terrain as if he was one with it. After many years, he knew the topography as if it was the palm of his hand. Where he could step and where he couldn’t. What paths to avoid at specific times, and which ones were safe to hike, always mindful of the creatures who had withstood the Great Purge.

He might not have many things, but free time was definitely one of them, which allowed him to explore this world he had called home for the last eight years. There weren’t many pastimes in Mand’alor when he was the only human inhabiting it. Maybe that was why he had renamed the droids with more human-like names, to feel less lonely ― only if he could truly feel something.

The emptiness within him had only grown with every passing year on the planet. The curse that ran through his veins had slowly overtaken him, leaving an ever-growing void in his chest. Din could not remember the last time he felt anything ― joy, contempt, happiness, anger, hope, despair. Nothing.

He was an empty carcass, a non-sentient monster merely existing. Sometimes he wondered what the point of it all was, not because of an emotional response but because of pure boredom. But then his eyes would fall on the source of his misfortune, a brutal reminder of how he came to be where he stood, and the lingering questions would vanish. This was the way, his way.

And if that wasn’t enough, he also had to deal with the other side of the coin.

Din trudged along the faded path, now overridden by vegetation, to the Mines. His magnetised boots helped him find his footing more than once, sharp and loose rocks making it difficult to remain vertical. Mrs. Kri’gee, on the other hand, had no issues whatsoever.

Fifteen minutes later, they reached their destination near the Mines, close to a cliff. The lush bushes and thick trees blocked the sight at first, but Din found the perfect spot to stalk the unwelcomed visitors. Down on his knees and through a gap between the leaves, he made out the shape of a T-65B X-wing starfighter ― a pretty old one, at least twenty years old. It could have well served during the Galactic Civil War.

The starfighter could only carry the pilot and an astromech droid, which meant he only had to deal with one sentient being. Could have been worse, Din thought. The prospect of being found didn’t sit well with him though, unsure of why this person had found themselves stranded in Mand’alor, out of all the fucking planets in the Outer Rim.

The Mandalorian tilted his head, trying to get a better look at the person on the other side of the ship ― they were sat on a flat rock with their back towards him, knees propped up, elbows placed on them and crouched forwards. Din stuck his head out just enough to look over their shoulder, good eye squinting ― there was an astromech droid lying in front of them. By the looks of it, it had been fried to death, still sparkling and smoking a little.

Mrs. Kri’gee laid low behind him, still but ready to accept a command. Din waved a couple of signs to the IG-series assassin droid, and it moved silently, gracefully as a loth-cat, to reposition itself northwards, facing the target.

The Mandalorian kept his fist closed, indicating Mrs. Kri’gee to wait, when he saw the person standing up, removing their helmet and taking in a deep, exaggerated breath. It was the side profile of a woman in a bright orange spacesuit, human as far as he could tell. Din’s eyebrows furrowed under the visor, confused as to what could possibly have guided her to this inhospitable planet.

Perhaps he had been alone for too long, only the droids keeping him company for almost a decade, but the sight of you unsettled him. Had he been able to feel something, he was sure an uncomfortable weight would have grounded his stomach.

Kaysh cuyi mesh’la (she is beautiful), he thought ― a simple, objective observation a man could make with only half a vision.

Your hair shined even when the sky was gloomy; your big, bright eyes sparked with frustration; your plump lips fell into a flat line before smacking them with disapproval at your wasted andromech droid. Your fingers curled into your hips while one of your feet tapped the crystallised ground underneath nervously.

“Well, I’m not dead yet, so I guess the air is breathable,” you talked to yourself out loud, sounding almost disappointed. “Stinks like a swamp though, ugh.”

That was a good observation from your part. Stupid, but good. What was your plan if it wasn’t? Suffocating to death? Bit reckless if you asked him. And yes, the sulfuric smell coming off a bog nearby was not great, but there were worse places in Mand’alor to find yourself in. He knew damn well.

He eyed you for a little longer, Mrs. Kri’gee lying in wait. He didn’t need to kill you yet, first he needed to find out why you were here and if you were part of a larger group ― if there was a remote possibility of someone looking for you, he had to know.

Din signalled to Mrs. Kri’gee to come out of hiding but to not attack yet. And so she did promptly. The droid walked out in front of you, startling you so bad you almost fell backwards.

“Identify yourself,” his droid asked you.

You snorted, hand slowly moving backwards towards the blaster pistol in your holster.

“You identify yourself, you little piece of― metal,” you bit your tongue back.

“Nicknamed Mrs. Kri’gee by my Alor. IG-11 assassin droid. Serial Number 730X21G. Manufactured by Holowan Mechanicals in 1 ABY. First assigned to―”

“Alright, alright. Whatever,” you scoffed, fingers curling around the grip of your gun. “What is a droid like you doing here anyway?”

While you were distracted chatting to Mrs. Kri’gee, Din had come out of his hiding place, heavy boulder on hand. Stealthy as a predator, he raised his arm above your head and smashed the rock against your skull with no hesitation at all.

You plummeted to the ground instantly, rendered unconscious in a split second. Towering above you, Din walked around your body and crouched down in front of you. His gloved fingers moved a few strands of silky hair out of the way, following the tiny stream of blood dripping down your temple. The wound wasn’t too bad ― he was sure you’d survive the blow.

“Pick her up,” he commanded the droid, who willingly complied.

In a matter of seconds, Mrs. Kri’gee was carrying you over the shoulder, as if you were a light sack full of gloomroots.

What a banging headache. You were barely able to string two thoughts together.

Eyelids heavy, you did your best to open your eyes. It took you a couple of attempts, but you finally got there. Vision still burry, your pupils widened to adapt to the darkness surrounding you.

The room you were in was all rough, square edges. It reminded you od the inside of a spacecraft with all those panels on the walls. Here though, the cables were hanging out of the electrical panels, snapped and peeled. The scarce futuristic, metal furniture dotted around was broken and upside down everywhere ― the whole space was derelict, abandoned.

It has to be, because this is Mandalore, you suddenly remembered where you were before you lost consciousness. And how did you faint, anyway? How did you get here? Was it the freaking droid?

With a pitiful groan, you tried to reach the back of your head, where the pain was radiating from. To your dismay, your hand didn’t budge one inch. Confused, you looked down and around you, only to find a sturdy syntherope tethering you to the chair you were sitting on.

“What the varp!” You exclaimed, fighting the fetters to no avail.

You rubbed your hands together in the hopes to loosen the grip and slide one hand out, but whoever bound you, had tightened the rope really well. Did that stop you though? No, not one bit. You tried and tried and tried until the skin on your wrists was raw.

You were in the middle of attempting to break free when the creaking noise of the door made you still in place, half hoping to see the assassin droid.

Instead, a Mandalorian walked into the room, and you immediately ceased your endeavours. With a droid you could deal, but with a sentient being… and even worse, a Mandalorian out of all the fucking possibilities.

By the shape of his armour and predatory gait, you could tell he was a man, around five feet twelve. He wore a black body stocking covered by different metal pieces ― vambraces, shoulder pauldrons, breastplate, thigh and shin guards, and kneepads were all made of unaltered beskar. The shiny patina indicated that the alloy had been polished but not painted, as most Mandalorians would have them.

But what struck you as odd was his helmet. Manufactured with the same polished beskar, a black visor protecting his eyesight, you noticed the big crack that ran diagonally from the bottom left, all the way to his right temple. The transparisteel of the visor had also been damaged. It all had been welded back together, albeit by a novice hand.

You stiffened your back as he approached without exchanging one word. Your gaze followed his every movement, wary of the man in front of you. Your tribe instilled on all its members a gut-churning hatred for Mandalorians, although such strong feeling never really deepened within you.

Always mouthing your curiosity, your constant questions as a child were never well received by your tutors. Even your father had a hard time convincing you to hate someone irrationally. It just wasn’t in your nature to hate for the sake of it.

However, the Mandalorian in front of you… well, that was a slightly different story. The bastard had kidnapped you and had the guts to stop in front of you, arms folded, and head tilted. As if you just happened to be there, disturbing his peace.

“Release me now,” you demanded, narrowing your eyes as you leaned forward on your chair. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

A stony silence ensued, leaving you wondering if he was mute.

“Why are you here?” His voice was distorted by the speech scrambler integrated in his helmet.

Repressing a taunting jeer, you stared him right in his eyes ― where you assumed they were, anyway. When he didn’t respond, your eyebrows scowled.

“Are you, like, for real, man?” You couldn’t hide your incredulity. “It’s obvious I don’t want to be here. I didn’t mean to land on this forsaken planet. For all I knew I was about to die, I thought it was uninhabitable! I actually meant to go to Condordia―”

“Why would you go to Concordia? You’re not Mandalorian. Obviously,” he interrupted you, his hand waving up and down in front of you almost scornfully, pointing out your plain clothing.

“I― Well, that’s none of your business, actually. Look― Sorry, what’s your name? I didn’t catch it before you kidnapped me,” you asked with a pinch of rancour tarnishing your voice.

“I haven’t kidnapped you,” he quickly replied defensively. “Just Mando.”

“Okay, Just Mando. Look, you let me go and we both can pretend none of this ever happened. I go on my merry way and you― well, you stay here, doing whatever it is you do,” coming to think of it, you also had questions. You cocked your head, “What are you doing here anyway? When did Mandalore’s atmosphere become breathable again? I thought the planet was completely ruined after the Great Purge.”

“For considering yourself a hostage, you sure ask too many questions. And it’s none of your business, actually,” he snapped back throwing your own words at you with a snarky edge to his voice. “You and the whole universe think Mand’alor is unliveable, and it will remain like that for as long as I live, at least,” his tone turned sombre. “You ain’t going anywhere, I’m afraid.”

His last words shocked you. What did he mean you were not going anywhere? Of course you were. You couldn’t stay here; you had a mission to complete. And Just Mando didn’t seem to be the best company either, the man was so dispassionate you were sure he had a pole up his ass.

“Wait, wait, hold on one varping second. Let’s not rush into making stupid decisions, shall we? I get it, you want to be left alone for all eternity, don’t want anyone to disturb you. I won’t tell a soul you’re here, I give you my word,” you stumbled over your words, panicking at the perspective of not leaving this planet. “Please, I can’t― There are people looking for me,” you lied.

You had not been in touch with your tribe for weeks now. And by tribe, you meant Ash. He was the only one you had been communicating with over the last eight years. Life had been hectic, and you were never the best at keeping in touch.

“Then I’ll kill them if they come looking,” he shrugged, matter-of-factly.

“Wow, okay. Calm down. No need to threaten my people,” you tried to diffuse the situation, although Just Mando seemed pretty calm.

“And just so you know, I’ve just come back from where you landed. I’ve destroyed your engine and the navigation console, so you ain’t going nowhere,” he unfolded his arms, lacing his gloved fingers on his back, quite the measured gesture.

You glanced up at him incredulous, mouth agape while your lungs emptied. You were stranded here, forever, with him. The magnitude of his words had still not dawned on you, when a faster thought made its way through to the surface.

The star compass. Had he found it? Had he destroyed it too? Not that it would be useful here, but it was the last memento you had of your late father. Not that you could ask, anyway.

“Why… why would you do that?” Your trembling voice almost gave way to desperation as you leaned back against the chair.

You blinked fast to tame your feelings, all bravado leaving your body soft and boneless. For once you were speechless, your eyes searching for his under the damaged visor. But you only saw your reflection on the transparisteel, his pose not budging at all.

“Please, Mando. Tell me you’re lying. Tell me my X-wing was not the only way out of this forlorn planet?” You begged, a dense knot forming in your throat, collapsing your airway.

“It is. It was,” he corrected himself. “I can’t let you leave. I don’t trust you nor your word. This way, I make sure you have no other option than staying here for as long as you live. Death is the only way out of here.”

You deflated on the chair, looking at him in disbelief, almost unable to breathe. Although his voice was warped by the modulator, there was no emotion in it. He spoke as if talking about the damn weather, not like he had just clipped your wings forever ― literally.

“I― What… Why are you behaving like a fucking monster? Don’t you have feelings?” There was no edge to your question, you were past subtleties now.

He shrugged again, unbothered.

“‘Cause I am. And I don’t,” was his cryptic answer before turning on his heels and leaving you alone with your thoughts.

The door slammed behind him a bit too forcefully for his liking ― a reminder that he would need to ask Ca’nara to grease the hinges. Din then put the latch down to ensure the door could not be opened from the inside.

Without another thought in his mind, he turned around and almost crashed into Nau’ul.

“Master?” asked the protocol droid, dubious, one finger lifted in the air to draw his attention.

“What?” he replied, exasperated. Din just wanted a moment alone ― that conversation had burnt the last energy he had reserved for socialising. If it wasn’t because he could harbour no feelings, one could say he was socially drained already.

“Since the girl is going to be with us for quite some time, I was thinking that you might want to offer her a more comfortable room…” Nau’ul suggested.

The damn droid was more human than he was. Din had not even thought about moving you a different place within his derelict fortress. He had made the once royal prison his home, suspended off the ceiling of Sundari’s bio-dome, or what remained of it. A suitable place for a worthy character like him.

Din just stared at him, weighing his words. Did he have to care about the needs of his captive? She’s not my captive, just a… lifelong visitor, he quickly corrected himself.

“Then again, maybe not,” Nau’ul quickly retracted, dropping his hand to one side, mistaking his silence.

Fuck, I should have thought that, not the droid, he almost reprimanded himself. After so many years in his self-imposed exile, Din had really lost all touch with his humanity. Solitude, along with the curse that plagued his veins, were to blame.

With a grunt, he turned on his heels, unbolted the door and walked right back in, coming to a halt behind you with just a few strides.

“What are you doing?” you asked in a small voice, sniffling.

You had been crying and were now trying to hide it, show him you were unbreakable. He should have felt like a dick but didn’t. Couldn’t, really.

He knelt behind you and removed his vibro-knife from one of his pockets. The blade hummed, vibrating, when it got activated and Din cut you loose, restoring the blood flow to your hands.

“I’ll show you to your room,” was his only explanation to your question.

“My room? But I thought…” the doubt in your words slightly angered him. A fleeting feeling.

Anger? That’s new, he thought, eyebrows momentarily furrowing under the helmet.

“You wanna― you wanna stay here?” he muttered, teeth almost gritting.

“No,” you hushed, wide eyes looking up at him when he walked around the chair to face you.

Unsettling.

“Then follow me.”

Turning on his heels, Din made his way to the door, hoping you would follow. And you did, possibly because you had nowhere else to go.

The royal prison was a cross-shaped structure with several floors. Most of it was completely abandoned, except for the last two levels where he had accommodated himself in this senseless life he lived. The height gave him vantage point, with a good view of the surrounding buildings and further afield.

If it was for him, he would live between wreckage and filth, but his droids had made it their purpose to make the prison somewhat liveable. Not that he cared.

Din looked over his shoulder for one second to see you rub your wrists, eyes focused on the floor. Red lines were imprinted on your skin and for a brief second, he wondered if he had secured the syntherope a bit too tight.

Oh well.

He walked you all the way through a maze of corridors until you reached an elevator which was already waiting to take you up. Din stepped in and then to a side ― it wasn’t too big, but there was enough room for the both of you without having to invade each other’s personal space. You reluctantly followed.

The minutes dragged; the silence heavy although he did not find it unbearable. By the way you fidgeted with your fingers, he knew you did. Despite your discomfort, Mando did not open his mouth ― better getting used to it now, he didn’t want you to think he was the talkative type.

Then a ding announced your arrival to the top floor, and you almost let go of a relieved sigh. Din glanced at you sideways but didn’t catch much of your expression ― you were on his righthand side, and his right eye was completely blind.

The floor was well illuminated, clean and free of debris. It was well looked after, pristine almost. The corridors were empty, giving the whole place a very diaphanous appearance. As you walked by his side, he pointed out a few rooms you might want to make use of.

Arriving at an intersection, Din took the east corridor, ignoring the opposite one deliberately.

“What’s on that corridor?” you asked curiously.

You were too damn perceptive. Too perceptive for your own good.

“The west wing is forbidden,” he grunted abruptly, a growl even, stopping in his tracks to face you. “Forbidden,” he repeated slowly so the words, and the threat in his modulated voice, would sink in.

His reaction took you aback, but he could see you subduing your fear. You would not let him see it ― how scared you really were. You might not want to show it, but he could sense it.

The thought of you sniffing around the west corridor should make him panic, but his reaction was a mechanical one ― once upon a time, he would have cared excessively, worryingly even, if you discovered what he was hiding. Now, however, it wasn’t that he didn’t care but couldn’t.

The reason behind it, the reason why his emotions had become sterile and why a beast lurked beneath his skin, was stashed away in the west wing.

And it was his life mission to prevent anyone from finding it.

When Just Mando opened the door to your new cell, you were pleasantly surprised to discover it was an actual bedroom. The walls were still polished stainless steel slabs, so it wasn’t the coziest place ever, but it had a double bed with fresh linen, a nightstand, a wardrobe, a chest and one single chair. Everything was immaculate white, not one speck of dust in sight. There was another door that you assumed would lead to an ensuite bathroom.

You entered the small room and walked towards the bed. Opened the drawers of the furniture not really hoping for anything, so your eyebrows furrowed when you discovered they were packed full with clothes. Weird, but good.

With a little jump you sat down on the bed, testing its springs and overall comfortability. It was strikingly soft and smooth like a cloud, beckoning you to lie flat on your back and drift away to your dreams. You were not expecting that ― seeing how the rest of this floor was decorated (it wasn’t), you thought there would be one single spartan bed which would be hard as ironstone.

You were even amazed to see a floor-to-ceiling window. An actual, big, massive window that faced the outside world. And there were no metal bars covering it. Incredible, really, that he would trust you with one. Not that you were planning to escape, considering how desolate the planet was ― where could you go? Nowhere.

Looking up, you saw Just Mando leaning against the doorframe, arms folded while his biceps flexed against the fabric of his body stocking. He had been watching you the whole time you were inspecting the room.

Suddenly you felt the weight of his eyes on you and that made you feel skittish. You couldn’t see them, but you knew his sight would be intense, drilling and thrilling. What did he look like under that helmet? Would his expression be as impassible as his tone? Did he really not care at all or was that a façade he could afford because you couldn’t dissect his face?

“So… can I come out of my room? Or are you going to lock it too?” you asked tentatively, hands laced on your lap, challenging him with the soft curve of your raised eyebrow.

“It’ll stay locked until I know you can be trusted with freedom,” he straightened his back, hand on the doorknob.

“You call this freedom? Wow, okay,” you paused, letting that spoken thought sink in. “Is it because I asked about that corridor?”

Just Mando stilled under the doorframe, head cocked. Unknowingly, you bit your bottom lip, your teeth massaging the plump pillow underneath.

He didn’t answer.

You had had enough years of silence, the quietness of your cockpit being your only companion. Only broken by the fleeting moments when you met civilisation, you had unintentionally craved that connection. You just hadn’t realised it until you were faced with the possibility of being accompanied by someone for the rest of your life.

Even if that someone was… well, him. Guessed you would have to make do.

“You’ve already condemned me to live here with you, Just Mando, for-fucking-ever. You’ve destroyed my ship, so it’s not like I can go anywhere, can I?” you pleaded with him. “This whole planet is already my personal jail, don’t make it even smaller or I’ll go crazy.”

In your begging, you had gotten up and cut the distance between you. The tips of your shoes bumped into his weathered, leathered boots. He didn’t move, not even one inch ― completely unbothered by your proximity. Your face was so close to his helmet, the steam of your breath almost fogged up the transparisteel of the visor.

And, for a second, he seemed to consider your petition. Or so you had liked to think. You measured each other up, no one giving in or up.

“Until you can be trusted,” Just Mando remarked. The Mandalorian was the first to finally retreat, taking a step back into the hallway. “It’s up to you how long that takes.”

Flabbergasted, you looked at him in disbelief.

And then he shut the door. The click of the lock quickly followed.

Hours had gone by until you heard the door unbolt.

A different droid, an astromech one, greeted you.

“Beep boop, beep!” it happily chirped.

Luckily you knew enough Binary to unsderstand that it said, “dinner is served”.

“I don’t get it. I’ve already had dinner. Don’t need to be here,” Din complained, arms crossed at chest level, manspreading on a chair in the dining room.

“Try to be understanding, sir. The girl has lost her freedom,” Mrs. Kri’gee almost reprimanded him.

“Least you could do is keep her some company, Alor,” Nau’ul chipped in.

Din scoffed, irritated. And such irritation surprised him. He shouldn’t feel anything but a void in his entrails.

Nau’ul picked up on his unusual display of feelings as quick as he did.

“Master… Have you thought that perhaps this girl could help you break the spell?” the protocol droid ventured, almost stammering towards the end when Din snapped his head back to look at him.

If looks could kill, Nau’ul would have dropped dead.

“Fucking nonsense. You heard the witch, the spell she cast,” Din muttered, jaw so clenched it almost hurt him. “Stop looking for solutions and just accept it. After eight years, you should have already giving up your futile hopes.”

“Someone has to keep the spirits up around here. Depressing enough as it is,” the droid retorted.

“If you allow me, Master, Elsbeth’s exact words were, ‘until you find your maker once more’, and that is up to interpretation,” Mrs. Kri’gee added.

Din remembered very well the cursed that Morgan had spitted in his face before he took possession of the Darksaber and sunk it in the witch’s belly.

I condemn you, Din Djarin, to an eternity of loss, Of emptiness, apathy and thorns. At full moons you will be at your worst, With nobody to keep you warm. You shall walk this Galaxy alone, Until you meet your Maker once more.

They still resonated inside his head, clear as the pale ale in the jug in front of him.

“It dims more and more every day, Alor. The Darksaber is losing its glow. You’ve been ignoring it for years, but I fear that if you do nothing about it, well…” Nau’ul voiced his worries, hands twisting ― a very human-like gesticulation.

Mando had spaced out, not listening to one word. He only snapped out of his trance when the door creaked, announcing Ca’nara’s and your arrival.

The bags under your eyes were screaming for some rest, which apparently had been evading you. He had given you enough hours alone to get some sleep and freshen up, so why hadn’t you? If you looked so miserable, that was entirely down to you, not him. Of that much he was sure.

Din straightened his back, sitting up properly, while Nau’ul rushed off his feet to serve you the food the droid had prepared. With a flourish of his hand, he presented you with his creation.

“It’s tiingilar, a Mandalorian stew of meat, vegetables and spices. It’s hot, very hot, be careful,” the protocol droid warned you.

From across the table, Din could have sworn he saw your eyes watering, then you blinked a few times, grabbing the spoon.

“Oh my stars, how many spices have you put in here?”

“Oh, you don’t like spicy food?”

“Well, I do, but it smells so spicy, I’m about to cry, phew!” you swept along your waterlines with your index fingers, making a point.

“Alor prefers it this way. I can prepare something else…”

“No, no. It’s fine. I’ll eat it. Thank you…?” You dragged your words, looking for a name.

“Nau’ul,” he replied. “Anything you need, please ask.”

And then all three droids disappeared from sight, leaving you both alone in the dining room.

You glanced up from your plate, eyeing him above your spoon while you blew on it to cool it down.

“Are you not eating, Just Mando?” you raised an eyebrow, inquiring.

If Nau’ul was still in the room, Din would have snarled at him. Instead, he folded arms again and shook his head no.

“I’ve already eaten,” he explained dully.

He couldn’t―wouldn’t―remove his helmet in your presence, or anyone’s. Not even his droids had seen his face in all the years they had been together. Din had been raised to follow the Mandalorian Creed and even though he was no longer part of the Bounty Hunters’ Guild, he still believed. It was intrinsic to him, to who he was. Or had been. The only thing that kept him true to himself.

“Because you can’t remove your helmet in front of me. Right?”

Din tilted his head in surprise. He did not expect you to know that. Were you acquainted with the Mandalorian culture? And if so, why? You were not one, he could tell. But what were you? Your accent was a mixture of different ones, so he could not pinpoint where you originated from.

“This is the Way,” he found himself saying. It had been a long time since those words last escaped his mouth. “Where are you from?”

“Oh, from here and there, everywhere and nowhere…” Then you took the first spoonful of the stew and started coughing almost instantly. “Fuck, this is spicy,” you whispered, tears in your eyes, as your hand lunged forward to eagerly down the drink.

Din almost smiled at your severe reaction. The corners of his lips began to curl up but quickly dissipated, his own body fighting against such act of rebellion.

“So you’re a nomad?” He asked with certain curiosity in his voice, while he leaned forward to pass you the jug full of ale to top up your drink.

“Yes. I don’t have a homeworld. I don’t even know where I was born, we moved around so much my father didn’t even remember,” you went on almost absentmindedly, pouring the beer in your glass. “What about you, Just Mando?”

“Why do you keep calling me ‘Just Mando’? It’s just Mando,” as soon as he said it out loud, he understood the joke. He pressed his lips together, slightly amused. “I see,” he mumbled.

You laughed as if it was the best joke ever. The warmth in your laughter was vivid, hearty, compelling. Like a melody it filled the air ― suddenly the room was not as bare as before. As cold either.

“So? Were you born here in Mandalore, Mando?” the smirk coiling your lips told him you were teasing him.

Din debated whether to open up or not. Whether to tell you the truth or a lie. But Nau’ul was right, if you were to spend the rest of your lives together, lying was not a good start.

“I was born in Aq Vetina, but was raised in Concordia,” was his succinct answer.

Your eyes unsuccessfully searched for his under the visor. Din could tell you wanted to press him, get more information out of him, but that was as much as he was willing to share today.

“Eat up. It’s going to get cold,” he urged you, wanting to leave so he could be alone.

“So bossy,” you whispered to yourself, rolling your eyes to the back of your head, before attacking the tiingilar.

Nine weeks later

You turned to the next page of the book on your lap, your mind completely captivated by the story of the pages in front of you. Books were scarce in this day and age, but Mando had managed to salvage a few after years of rummaging through the rubble. This one in particular was a storybook for children ― a story about a Mandalorian fighting the Mythosaur down in the Mines.

You were immersed in it, curled up in your bed with a thick duvet and a few pillows around you. Your room was not bare anymore ― you had decorated with a few trinkets you had found in your day trips to the outside world, with Mando as your guide. The fear of the first week had slowly eased, giving way to a new sense of comfort.

Forgotten was your thirst for freedom. With the passage of time, you learnt that Mando was not joking when he first said death was the only way out. And since you didn’t want to die, you slowly had embraced this new way of life. You had made friends with the three droids and had really tried to form sort of friendship with Mando.

The Mandalorian was a tough nut to crack. He was not keen on showing emotion, so much so you even wondered if he was capable of feeling anything. You had noticed that, many a times, he relied on Nau’ul to show him how he should act or react. A droid teaching a human how to be human ― unfathomable. Perhaps all these years alone in Mandalore had taken its toll on him.

And so you liked to think that you were somewhat helping him reconnect with that side of him you thought long gone. By ‘helped’, maybe you meant ‘forced’, but Mando had thrown you in this situation, so now he had to put up with you.

The door to your room opened suddenly, startling you so bad you almost threw the book at Mando.

“One of these days you’re gonna give me a heart attack. Don’t you know how to knock?” You screeched, hugging the storybook to your chest and burying yourself under the duvet ― you were only wearing a shirt and your underwear.

“Are you not ready yet?” you had grown used to the exasperation in his voice.

“Ready for what? It’s only half seven in the morning, Mando!”

“You wanted to visit the Living Waters in the Mines and see for yourself if it really is a Mythosaur’s lair, remember? Since you don’t believe a damn word of what I say,” he scowled, still under the doorframe.

“Oh, shit! You’re right!”

How could you have forgotten? You had been insisting for over two weeks now, and only yesterday did he capitulate. You were no Mandalorian, so shouldn’t be in such a sacred place, but you managed to convince him that it would do literally no harm to anyone if you visited.

In your excitement, you jumped out of bed, forgetting you were half naked, and looked for some clothes to put on.

“I’ll… I’ll be waiting in the parlour,” he muttered and disappeared into the hallway.

Ten minutes later, you were outside, on your way to the Civic Center. As you approached this new-to-you, unprobed area, the destruction around you made your stomach churn. The Great Purge and then years of neglect painted a gruesome picture in front of you. Inside was even worse, although you couldn’t see much considering how dark it was.

You followed Mando diligently ― he had been here before, so you trusted his instinct. You stepped where he did and remained silent while you descended into the ground.

After a few more minutes, a humid, warm cave appeared in sight. There were massive pillars holding the crumbling ceiling, and piles of debris everywhere. Stairs led a path to the Living Waters below.

“This is beautiful,” you mumbled in awe, looking around you.

The place was eerie and silent as a tomb. Seeing it with your own eyes, now you could understand why people would believe in the existence of a mythological creature.

There was a plaque on a stone nearby and you got closer to read it. However, the writing was in Mando’a, so you cocked your head to look at Mando.

“What does it say?”

He walked towards you and stopped right behind you. His proximity sent a warning shiver down your spine. You ignored your body’s reaction, focusing on the words you didn’t understand.

“These Mines date back to the Age of the First Mand’Alor. According to ancient folklore, the Mines were once a Mythosaur lair. Mandalore the Great is said to have tamed the mythical beast. It is from these legends that the skull signet was adopted and became the symbol of our planet,” he relayed, his voice ricocheting between the bare walls.

“And you are sure you’ve seen it? Mandalore the Great lived, what, hundreds of years ago? In all that time, you’re telling me, you’ve been the only man to witness the rise of the beast?” One perfect eyebrow raised into your forehead, a smirk curling up your lips, as you taunted him.

Although you couldn’t see, you liked to imagine the frustration distorting his features. Lately you had wondered who the man under the helmet was, but you knew you would never find out. Mando took the Creed very seriously, too seriously.

“I did,” he replied concisely. “I don’t care if you don’t believe me.”

“And what were you doing in the water anyway? It does not look very inviting.”

“I had to redeem myself,” you could tell he hadn’t mean to tell you that, because he nervously adjusted his posture.

“Why?”

You were like a loth-wolf with a bone ― you wouldn’t let it go that easily.

“I had broken the Creed and had to atone for it,” his voice lowered, uncomfortable with the topic.

“How did you break it?”

“Will you ever stop asking so many damn questions?” he growled, evading your probing.

You lifted your hands up in the air in a peaceful gesture, but not without a subtle grin on your mouth. You loved driving him crazy, it was one of the little fun you could have in this place.

“Alright, alright.”

You bent down to grab some flat stones off the ground and practiced your stone skipping skills. That was until Mando’s big hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you mid-throw.

“Stop that, you’re going to awaken the beast,” he snarled, pushing you close to his chest a bit too forcefully.

“Oh, come on. Gimme a break, Mando. There’s no Mythosaur, you must have imagined it.”

“There is and I didn’t,” his grip loosened, and you took the opportunity to throw another stone. “Fucking quit that attitude now,” he warned you, grabbing you by both of your wrists, your hands flush against the beskar breastplate.

Your pelvis was sweetly pressed against his, your thighs touching his. Even with the beskar pieces, you could feel all his edges, his― Shit. His manhood resting just above where slick heat was gathering in your core.

You laughed to release your own tension ― your head snapping back, exposing your neck to his eyes.

“Oh, wow. You’re serious,” you managed to say between laughs, ignoring how close you were to him. Ignoring how wet your pussy was.

“Of course I am. You don’t unders―”

The sound of water abruptly moving forced both of you to look in the direction of the pond. Something enormous had risen, taking up the whole airspace, and water cascaded down its sides.

You froze in place, your mind rushing to come to terms with what you were seeing, as you looked at the gigantic figure towering above you. The water kept falling, so you couldn’t really make the shape of the monster underneath. But in that moment, you knew Mando had not imagined jack shit. The Mythosaur was real. Very real.

Mando pushed you back and put himself between you and the imminent danger. Above his shoulder, you saw horns sticking out and a big pair of eyes staring you down. Its skin was covered in scales and small horns, giving it a very reptilian appearance. The Mythosaur was massive beyond comprehension, and you could not, for the life of you, visualise it being tamed or, worse, ridden.

Time stilled and so did the beast. Its eyes were transfixed on you ― no, on Mando. As if they were measuring each other up, as if they were communicating somehow. Since that was impossible, it was obvious you were imagining things.

Before any of you could react, your heart pounding manically and your breath hitching, the beast went back down below the water level, and a massive wave dashed towards you. Within a matter of seconds, the Mythosaur was gone, and you and Mando were soaked to the bones.

Mando reacted before you did, turning around and forcing you to walk back.

“Let’s go, now! Move!”

In the safety of your bed, after a hot, steamy shower, you let your mind drift back to the moment in time where Mando had held you close to his chest earlier that day. How your body had unwillingly behaved to his closeness, how you ached for him to reach below your hips, right between your thighs…

With a soft moan, you gave in to the desire that had been pooling low in your belly for a while now. Your fingers dipped under your underwear, finding that sweet bundle of nerves in your wet slit. Your index tapped at your clit a few times until you stroked it ― electricity shooting up your spine.

That felt so good, you did it again and again and again, while your brain came up with different scenarios where Mando was giving you hell. With half-lidded eyes and lips parted, you smothered the beating nub with your thumb, two other fingers finding the entrance to your pussy and submerging in your wet heat.

You picked up a relentless pace, imagining they were Mando’s thick fingers, as the first orgasm in a long while started to build up inside you. Your own hand made you whimper, teeth sinking in your bottom lip so hard you almost drew blood. Your back arched involuntarily, stroking your pulsing clit more harshly now, your fingers reaching further in.

The squealing noise of the door opening alarmed you, your orgasm evaporating into thin air. You just about managed to remove your tantalising hand from your panties and throw the duvet above you. Panicking, you looked at the door.

Mando was under the frame, so still you thought he was a statue. You had tried to conceal what you were doing, but the rigidity of his posture told you he had seen enough.

Your cheeks reddened, your face on fire at the realisation of being caught masturbating. By none other than the protagonist of your wet dreams.

“Mando! I told you to fucking KNOCK!” You screamed at him from under the quilt. “You can’t just walk in like that!”

When you didn’t hear the door close ―because you were not expecting an apology from him―, you peeked above the duvet.

The Mandalorian had not moved one inch, and you really feared he had become immobile forever. But the tent on his groin showing through his body stocking told you otherwise.

And then he walked into the room, closing the door behind him. It was the first time he had trespassed the doorframe, you noticed. Butterflies filled your stomach and your lungs as he approached the bed you were lying on, your widened eyes looking for his unsuccessfully ― always unsuccessfully.

Mando didn’t say one word as he removed his gloves, coming to a halt by your side with his shins pressing against the bedframe. When they dropped to the floor, your eyes drifted right up at him, searching for clues, anything that could be crossing his mind.

His naked fingers were the first time you saw his skin, a bit of him. He was real, and he was right in front of you, caressing your cheek. You found yourself closing your eyes and leaning on the palm of his hand ― a tender gesture amidst your unresolved sexual desire.

Mando tilted his head, and you understood. An unspoken petition that you willingly granted. Driven by your lust, you scooted over to the other side of the bed, making room for him, dragging the duvet with you.

“Nuh-uh,” he clicked his tongue as he knelt on the mattress after having kicked his boots.

He yanked the duvet off you, exposing you to him with just your shirt and underwear.

You leaned back against the mountain of pillows and looked at him doe-eyed ― then your sight followed his right hand as it landed on your pubic bone. You pressed your lips into a fine line, swallowing a moan at his touch. His fingertips traced your wet slit over your panties.

“What were you doing, hm?” he husked, his long finger dragging against the garment.

“I, uh… well…” you stammered, unable to look for the words.

“Were you touching yourself?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded.

“Were you close?” a sliver of care transpired through his modulated voice.

“Yes,” you cooed.

“Sorry, mesh’la (beautiful). Let me help you with that,” he offered at the same time his fingers dunked under the waistband of your panties.

You melted into the mattress, audibly moaning, when he stroked you. Your eyes shut to focus on the pleasure his fingers were expertly working on you, sliding through your slit a few times, from your thudding clit to your dripping hole ― your clit hitching between his fingers every time he traced them back up.

He worked your flesh with his bare digits, and after a few minutes, his index and middle fingers went back down to your hot entrance. He tempted you with the tips but didn’t go in ― you were tiptoeing on the precipice of your pleasure.

You whimpered, annoyed.

“Please, Mando―”

“Din. Call me Din, mesh’la,” he hummed, the tip of his finger circling your entrance.

“Please, Din,” you blurted out, eyes flying open and transfixed on his visor, begging.

You let go of a pitiful groan when Din―you liked how his name rolled off your tongue―finally gave you what you wanted, what you needed. Two of his thick fingers dove in your seeping pussy, slightly parting your walls in preparation―hopefully, if you were lucky―for his dick.

First slow, then a devilish rhythm his fingers imparted on you. The orgasm quickly built up again, Din’s dexterity beckoning you to climb to the hilltop. And you did, you let yourself feel all the pleasure he was giving you until it was too much, your clit raw and overstimulated by his precise thumb. You reached the top of the mountain and jumped into the abyss underneath. The wave of your climax washed over your, drowning you ― your cunt spasming around his fingers while your knees pressed together.

When you opened your eyes again, all tearful due to immensity of your frenzy, you were relieved to find that Din had released his throbbing erection through the zipper in his body stocking―you didn’t have the patience right now to unclasp all the armour pieces, you needed him now.

The sight of his engorged dick made your mouth water. The girth and the length of it should have made you flinch, but instead it made your pussy wet itself a bit more. It had the perfect size to fill your insides to the brim. Din’s hand moved up and down on his shaft, slowly pumping himself although he was already hard.

You lifted your hand towards his manhood, and he removed his to let you touch him ― for a second you were fascinated by the soft swaying of his cock. Then you wrapped your fingers around it and Mando grumbled, sitting on his heels, manspread for you as a tasty offering. He was a sight to see ― knelt and sat on his heels on the mattress, fully clothed, helmet on, armour hugging his body, and his erection peeking out through the zipper, leaky and throbbing just for you.

Giving him a few pumps, you looked up at him with a smirk. And before he could complain or stop you, you came closer to him and gave the plump head a lick, then sealed your lips around his leaking glans.

The groan that bubbled up his throat spurred you on to bob your head down, taking half of his pulsing length in your mouth.

Din’s hand tugged at your hair abruptly, pulling you off his twitching dick.

You glanced up at him confused.

“I can’t―I don’t think I can take a blowjob without blowing my load, mesh’la. I need to fuck you now,” he was honest with you.

It was understandable. He had been stuck here for at least eight years, which meant that he had not laid with a woman for at least as long. You would have lost your mind too if someone hadn’t touched you in that time.

“Come on then, fuck me, Din,” you mumbled, laying back down on the pile of pillows so your upper body was propped up.

You spread your legs, making room for him. Din swiftly shifted, dragging himself into position.

It was a fucking sight; one you had been dying to see. And he was finally there, all cozy in between your thighs. He parted your legs, resting the back of your knees on his shoulders. He pushed your panties to a side, leaving you completely exposed.

You couldn’t see, but you knew his eyes were focused on the prize―your damp, puffy folds, clit twitching and hole begging.

“Been wanting some pussy for a while now,” he confessed in a grumble, head tilted back when the tip of his veiny cock slipped up and down your damp furrow.

“Here I am, take what you need.”

How altruistic of you.

His mushroom, precum-covered head caught on your slick entrance and Din bucked his hips a little, only the tip smoothly going in. Your heartrate spiked, your walls imploring for the full length of him to clench on. And then, Din thrusted in harshly, pushing his cock in down to the hilt in one smooth jolt. You both howled in unison at the intrusion ― his a deep, guttural moan, yours a high-pitched one.

Mando held onto your knees on his shoulders as he started with the slow sway of his hips impacting on the back of your thighs, building the perfect pace. His dick dragged along the right spot inside you as he jackhammered you into the pillows, another orgasm gathering in your core. Din’s rhythm became frantic, frenzied, to the point where he had to let go of your knees and lean forward, his hands holding onto the rattling headboard.

Mando fucked you hard, drilling you like a man starved. You could feel him stuffing you full, his hard dick disappearing between your swollen, greedy pussy lips. Reaching up, you held onto his arms above you, fingers wrapping around his elbows. Your body rocked up and down on the bed below him with the force of his unrestrained charges.

Your cunt couldn’t take it anymore ― it contracted around his girth, announcing your second climax, which quickly overtook your senses. With stars in your vision, you wailed his name, now fisting the bedsheets as you came, a never-ending wave making your twitch under him uncontrollably.

“Fuck, I… Fuck,” he growled, his hips bucking and stuttering erratically at the sight of your fucked-out expression.

He was close, you knew by the way his dick constantly pulsed inside you ― he just needed a bit of prodding. That was your signal to clench your walls around him, squeezing him as hard and snug as you could, clamping on his thudding cock, never wanting to let him go.

That was his undoing ― you felt Din’s warm, thick spend painting your inner walls, his steely cock convulsing with the last waves of his release.

When you opened your eyes, you saw Din between your legs, his dick still buried inside you as it softened. The inside of his visor was fogged up and you doubted he could see much.

“I didn’t mean to come inside, I was gonna pull out―”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off. He didn’t need to worry about that.

His helmet tilted, but whatever question lingered in his mind, he didn’t ask.

His thumb lightly pressed your relaxed clit with gratitude, massaging it softly, before he pulled out and your pussy released his shaft. That gentle stroke ignited your nerve endings, slowly coming back to life. His thumb then went down, gathering the cum your pussy was releasing, and shoved it back inside you.

You bit your bottom lip to stop a needy moan.

“Wanna go again?” you asked, grinning. Offering.

Din laughed. He fucking laughed. You had never heard him laugh before.

“Sure do, but I need a minute, mesh’la.”

Every night for the next two weeks Din found himself stranded in the corridor leading to your room, like a lost, thirsty man looking for water in the harsh desert of Tatooine.

The internal struggle was always the same ― he shouldn’t seek you because, after all, you were his prisoner. You were stuck here with him because he had forced you to, giving you no other choice. Sure, he had not imposed his presence on you―quite the opposite, in fact―but it still seemed wrong to take advantage of you like that.

But then he would see you come out of your room, almost as if you knew he was marooned there, and would approach him with caution. Willingly you would take his hand and lead him to your nest, erasing any doubts he could have about your eagerness. You were as keen as he was ― fucking had become an entertaining pastime. And a calming balm for the beast within.

It was the same dance every night, without failure. And tonight had been no different, except for the hushed “I want you so badly, Din” that had dropped from your parted lips as you rode the last wave of your orgasm, a blissful expression softening your features.

As he stood outside of your door, back towards it, Din wondered what you had truly meant. Was it just a benign slip of tongue or was there something else behind it? He hoped for the first, because he couldn’t afford the second.

Feeling something―anything―was out of the question. Even if he wanted to, didn’t matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t. Elsbeth had cursed him to an eternity of apathy, and it had worked ― over the curse of the last eight years, Din’s feelings had dimmed, diminished and then disappeared, while his inner monster became more powerful, feeding off his emotions like a leech sucking blood out of its host. Mando had tried to feel to keep the beast at bay ― would even make the droids try to anger him in silly competitions, but the dull sense in his chest just grew bigger and bigger, like a tumour rotting his entrails.

Din couldn’t remember what happiness felt like ― he had a barren wasteland for a heart. So cold were his insides, he even thought all his organs were covered in beskar. That was what brought him back to your room every night ― your warmth, how it would seep through the cracks of his skin, warming up a part of him that he thought dead.

Tonight, he had allowed himself to really feel your body against his ― helmet still on of course, you both had been stripped naked for the first time, your skin rubbing his, heating him up. Whether he would admit it or not, he craved you. Yearned for your warmth.

With a shake of his head, his feet finally unglued from your doorstep and sauntered towards the west wing. A single light at the end of the corridor twinkled, snuffing out the moment he stepped below it.

He swung the door open to a room he had not visited in a very long while. Din preferred to pay no mind to the source of his emotional detachment, but Nau’ul’s words had been nagging him for weeks now, an annoying reminder scratching the back of his brain.

“It dims more and more every day, Alor. The Darksaber is losing its glow.”

He had to see for himself.

The room should have been dark if it wasn’t for the light the Darksaber’s blade emitted. Din trudged towards the display stand in the middle of the empty space, where the Darksaber rested under a glass case. Two metal, U-shaped pins held the Darksaber upright.

An electrifying, white glow encased the black blade, but it was certainly fainter than what he remembered. Significantly fainter. It had taken him a few years to understand that the Darksaber was the vessel of his curse ― as his feelings dwindled and the beast grew fonder of control, so did the light of the Darksaber. He was not sure though about which one caused the other to wither away.

As he stared at it, Din pondered what would happen the day the light from the Darksaber would flicker away. Morgan had died before he could fully understand the idiosyncrasies of his malediction. At first, the frustration of the unknown had only driven him mad, especially when the full moons would bloom on the night sky, leaving him at the mercy of his curse.

The first time he had transformed, bathed by the white light of Concordia, Din thought he was dying. The burning sensation, the bones breaking and fusing back together, the stretch of his skin, the blood becoming cold in his veins and his mind spiralling out of control… He hadn’t died, but he sure wished he did. Only at dawn was he able to gain back control, so exhausted he just laid on the dirt near the Civic Center for an entire day before finding his way back to the royal prison.

Only with the insight of time did he decide it did not matter. The end was the end, and if that was the way, then he would greet it.

Din sighed, his eyes dry under the helmet. Looking around and knowing himself on his own, he carefully removed his helmet, wincing in agony, and placed it on top of the glass case. He pinched the bridge of his aquiline nose in an attempt to clear his mind, one hand resting on the glass.

Eyes shut for a long minute, he ended up fluttering them open. His reflection greeted him ― a terrible, gruesome sight, a face he almost didn’t recognise anymore. The scar that ran from the left of his chin diagonally to his right temple had distorted his features ― his chin slightly dented, the left corner of his mouth raggedy, the flesh on his upper left cheek mildly sunken around the scar, his crooked nose even more angular and his split eyebrow giving him a permanent frown. And then his right eye, completely blinded with a white discolouration covering his iris and pupil.

He could still feel the blade of the Darksaber melting his beskar helmet as Morgan pressed it against him. It hadn’t completely cut through the Mandalorian alloy, but the fire filtering through had burnt his skin, leaving an everlasting imprint on his face.

Din remembered the heat, the panic building up and the sizzling sound of his skin as it thawed like ice under the sun. The smell of burnt skill still haunted him sometimes when the helmet became too overwhelming.

The damaged tissue was thick but extremely sensitive ― every time he pulled the helmet off his head, the fabric inside would drag against the scar tissue, making him flinch in pain.

Shaking his head to release his mind from such memories, Din stared at the Darksaber for longer than intended, lost in his train of thought. For the first time in ages, he wanted to know if the curse could ever be broken.

Until you meet your Maker once more.

That had a pretty definite sentence to it. Death was the only way out.

“I didn’t see you last night,” you mumbled, repressing the need to add an ‘again’ to the end of your sentence.

You had noticed that there were certain nights when Mando would vanish, wouldn’t visit you at all. You wouldn’t see him in the morning either and if you asked any of the droids, they were as evasive as their master.

You still didn’t know why and every time you prodded him about it, his answer was…

“Had stuff to take care of.”

You sighed, pressing your lips into a thin line. The idea of slapping him had its appeal.

“Are we still going?” you quickly changed subject, not wanting to be disappointed with him today. “I’ve not really asked you for anything in the three months I’ve been here.”

You watched his gloved fingers drum on the metallic surface, helmet tipped to one side as he considered your words. You wanted to believe that in the time you both had spent together, Din’s undaunted façade had softened a bit. His replies had become less snappy, his posture slightly more relaxed, and his hands way more caring as they canvassed your skin every night.

An invisible force had been towing you towards him, his gravitational pull irresistible. Din Djarin was a challenge to you, a puzzle you had started putting together. He strived so hard to remain indifferent, it was now an exciting game to make him feel. The only downfall? You were falling for him. Perhaps him being the only man to walk this planet had something to do with it, you had no other options. Also, you knew that fucking the brains out of each other every night would eventually lead you here.

Considering that you had a lifetime to spend on this world, letting yourself feel for Mando was something you could afford. And even if he didn’t want to show it, you were positively sure he was not as apathetic towards you as he let on.

“Alright. I don’t see the harm,” he accepted.

You mumbled a “yes!” with a smile crooking your lips as you pushed the chair back to stand up.

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

You rushed out of the room to run to yours and change. The winter was receding, but the cold was still bitter and nippy, so you decided to put on appropriate gear. A few minutes later, you darted towards the lift, where Din was already waiting.

Couldn’t help yourself, you had to smile at him, the softness of your grin reaching your eyes.

Din cleared his throat, face facing forwards to avoid your orbs meeting his.

The way down in the elevator was soundless, but you had grown used to his silence treatment. The short journey to the crashing site was as tranquil as the trip down the lift. Mando was truly a man of few words.

When you caught a glimpse of your T-65B X-wing starfighter, you overtook Din and ran towards it in excitement.

“Careful there! The ground is slippery, you’re gonna―”

Before Mando could finish his warning, you recreated what his next words were going to be: you slipped on an icesheet. Waving your arms so you wouldn’t lose your footing, you ended up falling face first. You managed to partially stop the fall with your hands. The rocks underneath slashed your winter trousers, cutting your left shin.

By the time Din had gotten to your side, you had already stood up.

“You okay?” he asked with worry in his voice.

You nodded, smirking at the preoccupation he was showing.

“Yeah,” you lied. If he knew you had hurt yourself, you would be turning around and returning home empty-handed.

“Be more careful, will you? The ship ain’t going nowhere,” he snarled once he knew you were fine.

You rolled your eyes at him before strolling to the aircraft. Your old X-wing had seen better days ― the glass of the cockpit was smashed; vegetation had grown over the body. Moss covered most of it, painting it green instead of white. When you peeked inside the cabin, you realised it was flooded, all electrics wet. It was truly done for ― if you ever had any hope of leaving this planet, it would not be aboard your X-wing.

Din stood watch as you foraged for the item you were here for. After a few minutes, you located the star compass under the seat in the cockpit, drenched. Looking over your shoulder to see where Mando was, you opened the compass and water leaked everywhere. The black lodestone was static, unmoving ― maybe it just needed to dry off. Despite how damaged it was, you hoped it would still work. You were not planning on using it, obviously, but it was a reminder of your old life, one that now seemed very far away.

You couldn’t say you missed your previous life. The constant travelling had taken a toll on you in the last few years, having almost lost sight of searching for the Darksaber. Now that your feet were back down on the ground, gravity keeping you centred, this new life was not so bad after all.

“You found it?”

“Yeah!”

You quickly clasped the lid back down and jumped out of the cockpit. Perhaps you had lied to Din about what you were really looking for, but something in you told you not to tell the truth. So, when he asked you that morning why you wanted to go back to the shipwreck, you simply lied, telling him you were looking for your family’s locket ― a relic that had been passed down for generations.

The object was small enough to pass for one. You waved it at him quickly, not really showing it to him, before you shoved it in one of the pockets in your vest. Luckily Din didn’t ask for it, otherwise he would have realised it was made of beskar.

“Let’s go back then.”

“You’re bleeding,” Din’s fingers grabbed you by the elbow, yanking you back before you crossed the door to your room.

You looked down, having forgotten about the wound on your leg. You shrugged, downplaying it.

“It’s nothing, I’ll just take care of it now.”

“Like hell you are,” he growled with clenched teeth while dragging you inside.

He only let go of your elbow when you were by your unmade bed. Din stopped right in front of you, hands on hips. He nodded to you, commanding you to remove your trousers so he could see.

Your eyes rolled in frustration and clicked your tongue.

“It’s fine, Din. Don’t worry about it,” you dismissed him with a wave of your hand.

“I’ll decide if I have to worry or not.”

And, without prompt, he pulled down your trousers in a swift movement, leaving your legs bare. You huffed but let him help you out of them and remove your boots. Mando signalled you to sit on your bed and so you did. Din knelt in front of you, grabbing your hurt leg by the ankle until your heel was resting on his bent knee.

He inspected the wound for a minute after having removed his gloves. His fingertips burnt your skin where they ghosted over it.

“It’s not too deep, just a scratch.”

“I told you it was nothing. You have some unresolved trust issues, Din,” you joked, slightly leaning back with the heels of your hands flat on the mattress.

You couldn’t see but knew his eyes squinted under the visor.

“I’ll go get something to clean it. Wait here.”

Mando walked out and you took the chance to remove the uncomfortable coat. A minute later, he had returned with a clean rag and a small container with lukewarm water. He knelt in front of you again, grabbing your leg, and dutifully cleaned the wound.

You couldn’t help but sigh at the feathery touch of his fingers on the back of your knee. His proximity was enough to lighten your need for him. Also, being only in your underwear and a shirt while he was knelt between your legs did not help at all. Your imagination was already running wild ― and so your legs parted slightly, almost involuntarily.

Din’s attention shifted from the wound to your core. He tried to hide he was being distracted, but the helmet kept tilting to one side so he could have a better look at where your thighs met.

You chewed on your bottom lip, slick warmth pooling in between your legs.

“Din,” you hushed his name, your hand searching his so he would stop cleaning the wound.

The Mandalorian didn’t need much prodding after that. He towered above you rising to his feet, his hips at your eye level. You knew he was hard already, so couldn’t ignore the call of the siren.

With rigid steps, he walked towards the chest and placed the container dow. He scrunched the rag so the water dripped back into it. Soon enough, he was in front of you again, clean rag on hand.

“Do you trust me, mesh’la?” his modulated voice was low and husky.

You nodded vehemently.

“I want to try something different this time,” he murmured, the rag twisting in his hands. “But you gotta promise me you’ll behave for me.”

“I will,” you promised, breath hitching in anticipation.

“I’m going to blindfold you and remove my helmet. But I have only two ground rules: you can’t take it off and you can’t touch my face. At all. No excuses. Are we clear?”

A rush of lustful excitement ploughed through your veins. You found yourself nodding again, your neck hurting.

“Use your words, cyar’ika (beloved).”

“Yes. Crystal clear, Din,” you mumbled, widened, almost adoring eyes staring at him. You hadn’t missed the endearment term, although he seemed to not have noticed.

“Good,” he curled one finger at you.

You sat back up, hands laced on your lap patiently waiting as Din blindfolded you with the damp rag. He secured it with a very tight knot on the back and made sure three times that it would not go anywhere.

“If you break your promise, I’ll have to kill you,” the threat was very real, not even a hint of joke in it.

Your mouth went dry and your clit irremediably pulsed ― your pussy was already wet and warm for him. You shouldn’t get off on a death threat, but apparently Din could reduce you to a slick mess just like that.

“I-I won’t remove it. You have my word. Please.”

“Be a good girl for me and lay down on your back,” he commanded you and you happily obliged.

Your heartrate spiked as you heard Din discarding the beskar pieces over his body stocking. Maybe you were too eager, but he was taking too damn long. Then a hissing sound told you his helmet was gone.

This was fucking torture. You wanted to see him, to see the face of the man who made you wet with just a few words. It was cruel of him to impose something like this on you, such a prohibition. However, you understood what his Creed entailed and respected it.

Hated yourself right now for respecting it, but you did.

Din placed his hands on the back of your knees and lifted your legs up, the soles of your feet resting on either side of his naked hips. The warm palms of his hands caressed your ankles, massaging them briefly, before travelling up your calves and inner thighs, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

Unceremoniously, his fingers curled around the hem of your panties and pulled them down your legs; you couldn’t see but were sure he had thrown them away.

The Mandalorian exhaled audibly the moment his hands landed on your knees and pulled your legs apart. You squirmed, knowing he was devouring you with his eyes.

“Din, please, just―” you whimpered, moany and needy, anticipating.

“Shush. Don’t be so impatient, mesh’la,” he chastised you while stepping back.

That was the first time you listened to his real, manly voice. It was deep and raspy, surly yet sweet.

Your feet, no longer supported on his hips, dropped to the ground.

“Go on your fours,” he talked you through the position he wanted you in as you obeyed. “Now lean down, rest that pretty face of yours on the mattress for me.”

With your perky ass up in the air, you felt very exposed with your inner thighs pressed together and framing your swollen pussy like a pretty picture just for him.

One of his fingers traced your wet slit and you had to stop yourself from wiggling your hips until his finger was partially inside you.

“Look at her, all drippy and puffy for me. She knows what’s coming, doesn’t she? That’s why she’s so fucking wet,” he hummed, shuffling behind you.

You couldn’t see him, but you were damn sure he was on his knees at the feet of the bed.

Din placed his hands on your ass cheeks and parted them, the skin in your sticky furrow stretching while his thumbs caressed your labia. Your cunt was on full display, and you could feel the cold air of the room against your damp, sensitive skin.

“At last, I can claim her as mine,” Din whispered, his hot breath fanning on your pussy now, sending shivers up your spine.

You moaned, finally understanding what was coming.

He didn’t keep you waiting. Din’s tongue lapped your whole pussy in one go and your entire body trembled at the wet touch, his beard prickling your skin. Covering your mouth, you swallowed a pitiful whimper while your eyes rolled to the back of your skull. Mando’s broad hands squeezed your ass, grounding you, as he leaned forward again to drink from the fountain of your pleasure.

His tongue dipped in your creamy slit and stroked it slowly, deliberately loitering around your clit, but never really paying it much attention. He kissed your swollen lips, making out with them as if they were your mouth, the tip of nose intimately caressing your perineum. With the help of his fingers, he splayed open your quivering cunt, your hole accessible to the apex of his mischievous tongue.

Din licked you for minutes on end, ignoring your pulsing clit on purpose. The tension inside you coiled almost uncomfortably, so intense it would snap at any given moment. His devilish persuasion was relentless, more so when he would introduce his tongue in your very core.

You bucked your hips against his mouth, grinding. Desperate.

“Din, please, please, here,” you begged, slipping one of your hands down your belly and in between your legs.

You parted your slippery pussy lips, your clit hitching between them, showing him exactly where you wanted his goddamn tongue.

“Here, please,” you insisted, teary-eyed, at the edge of your patience.

“So impatient, mesh’la,” he chuckled behind you, still on your fours for him.

Finally, his lips latched onto your clit, and you whined out loud, pure elation running through your veins at the sweet suckling of his mouth. His teeth grazed the sensitive nub, and you saw stars behind your eyes, head slightly tilted backwards as you mewled until your throat felt raw.

Din sucked on your clit harshly at the same time two of his thick fingers found their way to your oozing hole. You screamed a resounding “fuck” at the perfect intrusion. The combination of his tongue and his digits were more than what your nervous system could take. Lick, pump, lick, pump ― the perfect rhythm making your toes curl, your pussy clench and your clit set ablaze.

The whole pussy-eating-from-the-back situation was too much ― his fingers ever so tantalising, you surrendered. Rubbing your cunt against his mouth, you moaned his name as the best orgasm of your life almost rendered you unconscious. You came on his mouth while Din just sipped from you, drinking all your discharge as if it was the last drops he would ever taste.

You could only hear your heart beating in your eardrums, all your senses overwhelmed. You were so out, you had almost forgotten the rag blindfolding you.

“You’re gonna come again for me, mesh’la,” only then did you realised his fingers were still inside you.

You panted, gathering your thoughts.

“I don’t think I can,” you mumbled, entranced.

“Oh, you can and you will,” he groaned, accepting the challenge.

And with that, his wicked lips pressed against your cunt, and he started all over again. As it turned out, he was fucking right. His tongue and his fingers were working you so well, there was no way you could resist. However, this time, there weren’t two fingers stuffed in your whole, but four. Your walls were so outstretched it should have been painful, but it wasn’t ― he had made sure to get you ready, pliant under his dutiful care.

“I wonder if you could take him. Bet you could,” Din whispered in a moment of respite.

“Huh?”

All thoughts dispersed when the second climax spread across your entire body, leaving you exhausted; a pitiful, sweaty mess on the bedsheets.

“Turn around and lay down. I’m gonna fuck you stupid,” the crudeness of his words should have made you frown but instead you smiled, completely blissed out.

Din made good on his promise. On your back and with your legs parted, you heard him moving around until he was between your thighs. Then he leaned forward, his hands on either side of your shoulders to keep his weight off you, and his hard shaft dove inside your cunt with no resistance. When he bottomed out, he snapped his hips back and then forth, until he was rutting into you like a man on death row.

Your hands held onto his back, your nails digging in his skin. You wanted to move them up and sink them in his hair so badly, your palms were itchy with longing. He had said you couldn’t touch his face; he hadn’t said anything about his hair. Hoping he wouldn’t notice your intentions, your hands drifted up his back, arriving at the nape of his neck.

So close to burying your hands in his hair, so fucking close…

“Don’t,” he growled at you, the snapping of his hips against yours unforgiving. “The fucking audacity. I. said. don’t. fucking. touch,” he punctuated every word with deep, sharp thrusts.

You winced and gasped at the depth of his dives, your mouth shaping a perfect O, back arched off the mattress below you. Every stab of his dick kissed your cervix, and you just couldn’t stop moaning uncontrollably. The mild pain quickly blossomed into ecstasy; your skin electrified with pleasure.

Suddenly you felt his mouth ghosting over yours; his unfiltered, gruffy grunts were music to your ears. You reached up, wanting to steal a kiss from him to taste his lips for the first time, but he slithered back.

“You don’t respect boundaries, do you?” Din rumbled.

His voice should have had a tinge of anger, but instead it sounded… amused?

“You have had a taste of me, it’s only fair I get something in return, Din,” you bargained breathlessly, but got no reply. “Please?”

Imploring for a measly kiss from your captor while he kept on fucking you. That had to be a new low in your book.

You couldn’t see him as he jackhammered you into the mattress, but knew he was debating. Whatever inner debate he had, the side you were banking on won.

“You keep your hands on my back at all times. Yes?” One of his hands moved to your neck, his dextrous fingers wrapping around your throat. “Or I’ll―”

“Kill me. I know. Elek, Alor (yes, Master),” you whispered in Mando’a, breath hitching.

His mouth came crashing down on yours, teeth colliding in a very messy kiss. His tongue sought yours with fervour and sucked it into his mouth. He tasted like you.

You couldn’t help but moan in midst of the sloppy kiss, your heart finally content at his small yet meaningful surrender. The grip of his hand around your neck softened but didn’t dissolve, adding another layer of excitement to his unabating thrusts.

“Gar serim, cyar’ika (that’s it, beloved). You’re so good, so fucking good for me. Warm, tight pussy always ready for me when I need her. She never disappoints,” he maundered, your brain spiralling with his praise.

Praising your cunt, not actually you, but you would take anything he would give you.

A few minutes later, the breathy groans of your making out along with the squelching sounds of your lust filled the air, quickly followed by the loud moans announcing your climaxes. Your cunt clamped on Din’s dick―a promise you’d never let him go―and he blew his load inside you. The tackiness of his cum filled your insides as his cock pulsed one last time and his lips pecked yours.

Din dropped to your side, panting with exhaustion, and you just laid there pondering all the decisions that had taken you there.

You’d never let him go.

When the fuck did that happen?

“How long does winter last here?”

“A good part of the year, around six months,” he replied dryly.

He was aware of the fact that you had been trying to get words out of him for the past week. Make conversation, talk about his story, his past, his interests. See if there was any common ground between you. But Din couldn’t bring himself up to actually share personal details.

And every time you tried, and he would dodge your attempts, he would see the disappointment painted across your face. And every time, something unknown would uncomfortably stir within him. He suspected you had started to harbour feelings for him ― and even if he wanted to, he couldn’t reciprocate you. Didn’t want to break your heart.

It was his fault, really, for seeking you out every night. You were so giving and him so greedy, he just mindlessly took what you offered without giving you anything in return except for a few orgasms and a good time.

“What did you do last winter? Bet it was boring being home with just the droids…”

Din knew very well what answer you were expecting: It was. Your presence has been a great improvement. You make my days―and nights―more bearable.

But instead, he shrugged.

“Dunno. Kept myself busy with stuff,” he muttered frugally.

He kept on walking before you, making the way back home after a quick stroll around to breathe some cold, fresh air.

The Mandalorian did not expect to be attacked by a snowball, which hit the back of his helmet. He quickly turned around.

“What the hell are you―?”

Before he could finish his question, you hit him again with another snowball, dead centre on his visor.

“You are such a prick, Din Djarin,” you snapped between gritted teeth, patting another snowball between your gloved hands. “Would it actually kill you to be a bit more open, hm?”

This time he saw the attack coming and was able to duck, avoiding the next snowball.

“Are you mad?”

“Yes, I’m mad, you fucking idiot!” you yelled at him, trudging forwards with another snowball on hand. “I’m mad for you, but either you’re fucking blind or you’re a cold-hearted jerk.”

Little did you know he was actually blind in one eye, but it didn’t seem to be the time to point it out.

The sudden love confession caught him off guard. You were not supposed to say that. You were not supposed to feel that way, not for him.

Din remained calm as you cut the distance and tried to smash the fourth snowball on his covered face. His fingers gripped your wrist before you were able to do so.

“You’re just confused, mesh’la. All the sex is blindsiding you, but you really don’t feel anything for me,” he reasoned.

You looked at him as if he had slapped you and took a step back.

“Of course, because you, the freaking Tin Man with a dead heart, know better than myself how I feel. Un-fucking-believable, honestly. Go fuck yourself, Din,” you scoffed, pushed him to one side and walked past him.

Din saw you disappear through the sliding door, while he stood there in disbelief.

What the fuck had just happened?

You kind of expected Din not to show up at your door tonight, but his absence in your bed stung either way. Sure, you had told him to go fuck himself, but now with a new―horny―perspective, you would prefer if he fucked you instead.

Infuriated with him, yourself and the situation, you sat back up on your empty bed. You reached for the drawer in your nightstand and opened it, grabbing the star compass inside. Fidgeting with the aurodium clasp, you wondered why the fuck Din didn’t open up. After three months and a half with him, you had thought you had been able to break through his armour ― the figurative one, not the real one.

Every time you tried to talk about your relationship with him, Din would shut you out or wouldn’t even engage in the conversation at all. He was more stubborn than a falumpaset, and that was saying something. Despite his indifference, you believed that, deep down in that cold, dead heart of his, he cared for you. Maybe he didn’t love you, but at least cared for you.

You didn’t even know if you loved him, anyway. Infatuated was, most probably, more accurate, you’d like to think. Most days you pushed that thought to the remotest corner of your mind, not wanting to consider it. Because, after all, you were his prisoner ― you might forget it some days, but the reality was that Din Djarin was your captor. So maybe it wasn’t love ― perhaps it was just a survival mechanism. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

Amid your pondering, you almost didn’t realise that the hands of the compass had moved, and the lodestone was humming, the plasma inside slowly swirling around. Your heart jolted in your ribcage, almost dropping to your stomach, when you finally paid it attention.

“Shit!” you exclaimed, jumping out of bed.

You had hoped it would work once it fully dried, but you were not expecting it to be actually functioning. It seemed to sense the Force emitted by the Darksaber, but that couldn’t be possible. If the Darksaber was here, in Mandalore, Din would know―would have told you. Right?

No, he wouldn’t have.

With that thought in mind, you put on some more decent clothes and cracked open your door. Carefully, you peeked in the corridor to confirm the coast was clear. It was close to midnight, so you hoped everyone―Din and the droids―would have gone to rest.

Tiptoeing through the hallway, you followed the path the star compass was pointing to, only to find yourself in the west wing after a few minutes. You knew you shouldn’t be here, but the compass hummed louder, vibrating on the palm of your hand, as you turned another corner. Looking up from your family’s relic, you saw a door at the end of the hallway.

“BEEP BEEEEEEEEEEEEP BOOP! BIP! PIP!” Din’s astromech robot, an old R2-D2 unit, screeched at you loudly, skidding and coming to a halt in front of you. It even had a red light flashing at you.

You almost threw your heart up there and then, the little robot giving you the biggest scare of your life.

“CA’NARA!” you told him off as your heartrate slowed down. “Fucking hell, you almost killed me, little devil.”

“BEEP! PIPIPIPI!” the droid beeped at you, going around you in circles.

“I know I shouldn’t be here, sorry!” you whispered, “I-I’m a sleepwalker!”

Ca’nara seemed to calm down, only for Nau’ul to appear in scene.

Great, fucking great.

“Ca’nara, what’s going on?” the protocol droid turned the corner, almost bumping into you. “Oh! What are you doing here?”

“I- Uhm, I was just telling Ca’nara that I’m a sleepwalker. He literally just woke me up. I didn’t mean― you know I cause no trouble, Nau’ul,” you pleaded with the affable droid.

“Of course, of course,” he took a couple of stiff steps back. “What’s that on your hand?”

Fuck. You looked down, coming up empty with a lie.

“I don’t know. I literally just woke up, I don’t know where I got it from,” you stammered a bit, but the droid didn’t pick up on it.

“I’ll take it. Alor will know what it is and where it belongs,” Nau’ul extended his hand towards you.

If you didn’t give it up, it would arouse suspicion. So, unwillingly, you passed it on to him.

“Where’s he?” the question slipped your tongue before you could refrain.

“Alor is… indisposed, miss. He needs to rest,” he replied cryptically as you both walked back to the main corridor where your bedroom was.

“Indisposed? Is he sick? Is he okay?” you instantly worried.

“He’ll be better in the morning, fret not,” he paused in front of your room, and you opened the door. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Nau’ul,” you mumbled before closing the door behind you.

What a varping disaster. Nau’ul had confiscated your star compass, which meant that Din would eventually see it. If it came to it, you were not sure what you would do. And you still didn’t know what was in that room, why the compass had gone crazy as you approached it. But you had a pretty good idea. Chances were, the Darksaber was on the other side of that door at the end of the west corridor.

Sighing, you sauntered towards the big window in your room. Two perfectly aligned full moons dominated the night sky, their white, sparkly glow bouncing off the walls. It was a beautiful sight.

Something in the path below caught your attention. A metallic reflection. Your eyes drifted down just in time to see Din running towards the Civic Center, as if a thousand ghosts were on his heels.

You frowned, confused. Where was he going at this witchy hour? Wasn’t he sick?

A scary thought formed in your head. Were you under attack? Had Ash come looking for you after several weeks without returning his messages?

Heart pounding with worry, you darted to the door and then the lift. Whatever threat was coming, you would face it with him. With such resolution in mind, you followed his trail.

Your concern for him skyrocketed when you arrived at the Civic Center and saw nothing but pieces of his armour scattered around. You snatched the shin and thigh armour off the steps to the main door, only to look up and find more bits spread around the entryway.

This made no sense at all. Why would Din dispose of his armour? Something was wrong, very wrong, but you were not under attack.

You gathered all the armour pieces in your arms while calling his name but heard nothing except the whistling of wind passing through cracks and crannies.

Suddenly, you felt the need to look down the stairs to the Living Waters. A hunch rooting in your core, wrapping around your heart. Then a faint, painful growl came from underneath and all your senses flared alive.

What was Din doing down there? In the Mythosaur’s lair?

Panic hiked up your throat as you hiked down the stairs, the animalistic snarl louder now as you drew nearer. At the bottom of the steps, eyes fixed on your shoes, you dared to glance up.

His armour fell from your arms on to the ground, clattering. You were not prepared to see what you found.

Din was half curled up on the floor, naked and dragging himself towards the water. Only he was way bigger ― almost seven feet tall, his body much more muscular with chiselled, blueish veins across the whole of him, hands big as paws with his nails digging the dirt underneath.

You took a step forward, catching a better glimpse of him. Then you truly saw ― his skin had a viridescent tint to it and had started to scale. Rugged lumps raised from the skin on his back, tiny bones protruding through. No, not bones ― small horns, like those of a reptile.

Not like a reptile. Like a Mythosaur. Only smaller than the beast you saw a few weeks ago.

With a guttural bellow, he removed his helmet, throwing it to on side as he crawled towards the rippling water. His head was crowned by thick, short, greyish curls ― exactly what you had imagined.

“Din?” you whispered, taking a precautious step towards him, one hand extended in front of you to appease him.

His head snapped around at the sound of your voice.

You gasped at the sight of him. What first struck you was the scar across his face, one that would perfectly line up with the mended crack on his helmet. It ran diagonally through his rugged features, distorting them and hugging that crooked nose. His teeth seemed slightly pointier too. The next thing you noticed were his blown, bloodshot eyes with pupils as big as his sclerae.

Not eyes, one eye ― the right one was completely discoloured, covered in a white sheen.

He still looked like Din, but… not really.

The vision in front of you should have scared you. Even more so when Din stared at you, and you saw nothing in his expression ― he didn’t recognise you. Whoever, or whatever, this was, he wasn’t the man that had kept you company for the last few months.

Logic dictated you should run in the opposite direction. Instead, you propelled forwards towards him, knees skidding on the dirt and landing by his side.

The warm touch of an alien hand grounded him for an ephemeral instant. The bitter cold crawled under his scaled skin, rejecting the heat like a limping animal avoiding the helping hand of a human.

He snarled, creeping back and away from you, as if your mere proximity was a threat to him.

Because it was.

“Din, I’m here, let me help you,” you besought, dragging your knees towards him again.

He didn’t know who Din was. Where he was or had gone. Did he ever exist? The Beast didn’t know―didn’t care. So he growled again, but his futile attempt didn’t keep you at bay. Guessed you had a death wish, only that could explain your blatant refusal to his rejection.

Both your hands fell upon him, like warm blood spilling and enlivening his senses. For once the cold running wild through his veins minimised, giving way to a hot flush that was foreign to him. The sudden warmth surprised him ― but what shocked him the most was how soothing it was, how easy was for him to crave your touch. A primal need.

The Beast had forgotten what warmth was, having been cursed to a lifetime of coldness for as long as he could remember. Crazed by this newfound feeling, he slowly sat back up on the ground, eyeing you like a predator watching his prey.

Your hand reached up to him to cradle his cheek and the Beast closed his eyes, that warm feeling running down his neck, wrapping around his dead yet beating heart.

“You’re so cold,” you mumbled as you cut the distance some more, your chest nudging his side.

Another heatwave flashed through him ― your warmth beckoning, your body too inviting. He wanted to dive in, to let your warmth surround him, make him surrender. He craved it so bad, so fiercely, the Beast bowed down to sink his forked tongue in your mouth ― unannounced, unrequited.

You moaned at the intrusion, your hands lacing on the nape of his neck, and that only spurred him on. He gave in to your warmth and gave up his restraints. Growling, he plundered your mouth as he forced you down onto the ground.

Towering above you, his tongue slipped out of your mouth to graze your neck, and you shivered under him. Biting your chin, he returned to your lips to kiss you, to suck out your warmth to replenish himself. Like a leech he drank from you while his rough, broad hands roamed your body.

“Din,” you mewled.

He didn’t like this Din whose name you were moaning. So he kissed you, not wanting to hear it again and tugged at your clothing. Impatient, he almost tore your garments apart and only relaxed a little when you were completely naked beneath him.

Pressing his bare body against yours, he revelled, soaking in your heat. But there was a part of you that was hotter, and he could sense it ― like a tracking fob, he pursued the warm feeling as he slithered down your frame.

The heat pulsing from between your thighs called him home, hypnotising. You pressed your knees together and he snarled, his sight darting to your glassy, dreamy eyes, silently distraught at your denial.

He leaned down over you to graze one of your nipples, smothering it raw to show you what he could do to you down in your balmy core. His demonstration worked, because the next time he coaxed your legs apart, you showed no resistance.

So down he went on you, fingers splaying out your puffy folds to display the focal point of his desire. Like a thirsty animal his bifid tongue darted out and swept the length of your damp slit in one slow, sweet sweep. He howled into your pussy, besotted, his arms wrapping around your thighs as he devoured your seeping cunt. Warmth poured from your clit, and he latched onto it rather harshly, finally finding the beacon that reeled him in.

“Fuck, that― Mhmm,” whatever you were going to say died in your lips as a moan hitched in your throat and your body trembled.

A rush of liquid fire met his tongue, and he accepted your offering as your thighs quivered around him ― the strength of your release eased slowly, but his tongue didn’t.

His fingers found the warm cave he needed to nestle in. But before he could do that, before his brain got fucked out into oblivion, he had to prepare you to take him. He massaged your leaking entrance one digit at a time until you were sweetly stretched around four of his fingers.

You whimpered with the first pump and slowly you eased into it, into the feeling of being full to the brim. He licked and flicked your throbbing clit, the hot nub driving him wild. Your inner walls tightened, announcing another climax, and he pulled it out of you with his fist still immersed in your pussy.

Once you came down from your high, the Beast unburied from between your thighs and loomed over you. Your half-lidded eyes and fucked-out expression only made him harder, hotter. He hungered for the moment your bodies would connect; the moment he would finally feel only warmth running through his veins. The moment the cold was forgotten, albeit only fleetingly.

The tip of his cock nudged at your pliant entrance, and he trailed the head up and down your dewy furrow a few times. Your eyes blew open the moment he poked at your hole, parting your flesh, and you looked down at his dick kissing the mouth to your cave.

“Din, I don’t think― Oh, holy FUCK,” you mumbled something uncoherent afterwards, head tilted back and your teeth sinking in your bottom lip as your pleading metamorphosed into moaning.

His whole frame blanketed yours as he supported his weight off you by placing his forearms to either side of your head.

Slowly, inch by inch, he buried himself in you, suffocating heat radiating from where you two met. He growled, an animalistic bellow bubbling up his throat as he felt your walls swallowing him, sheathing his throbbing cock. And when he was fully embedded in you, buried almost down to the hilt, you whined as he remained still ― your walls adjusting around him. He was maddened by the warmth of you.

Only when he felt you relax around him, did he start pumping in and out of you. His mind went blank as his sight transfixed on yours and your foreheads touched, another bridge between you. The Beast rutted into you, first paced, then madly, as he stared into your soul. Your body rocked up and down underneath him, your back arched so your nipples caressed the bare skin of his chest.

The movement of water behind him made him look over his shoulder. The Great Mythosaur had resurfaced, only the top of his head and his eyes were above the water table. Watching, ever present and lurking. Eager. Wanting.

He growled at him, a warning to back the fuck down ― he wasn’t sharing you; you were all for himself and himself only. His exclusive prey, no one else’s. With a low rumble, the Great Mythosaur disappeared under the water, and he refocused on you.

Tension built up at the base of his spine, his cock pulsating so hard it was difficult to ignore it any longer. And then your pussy clenched around him as you orgasmed once more, and that inevitably milked him dry ― both of you moaning in unison as ropes of thick, white cum painted your inner walls, leaving a lasting imprint in your core.

The Beast panted above you ― all coldness deserted from his body, destituted by your unique warmth.

He sat back up, his engorged cock leaving your entrails. Through the daze in your eyes, you looked at him with a satisfied grin. As you sat up straight, you lifted one hand towards him, softly placing it on the center of his chest.

“Come back to me, Din,” you begged, and all hell broke loose within him.

The pain, the shearing pain, blinded all his senses as his bones snapped and rearranged again. His jaw clenched to stop the agonising screams hiking up his throat. Din hunkered down as his body adjusted back to normal size.

As grievous as it was, it was over very quickly. Too quickly. He had not fully transformed into the Beast, which meant easing out of it was not as traumatic.

What was traumatic was the sudden landslide of overwhelming feelings taking form inside him. Almost a decade of apathy meant years’ worth of emotions repressed ― emotions that would emerge to the surface if given the opportunity. And whatever you unleashed within him, flooded his brain and his heart.

A myriad of sentiments rushed through him ― joy, anger, hope, disappointment, serenity, desperation. All at once, a cacophony bursting his eardrums. So loud were his emotions, all boiling together inside him, his thoughts were drowned. He couldn’t think ― panic was setting in.

Din panted as his arms and legs trembled uncontrollably, lungs vacating all oxygen in sharp exhales. His ears rang and his heart threatened to climb up his throat and run. Eyes closed shut, he grasped for control.

“Din, I’m here,” your hands slid on his back, grabbing him by the shoulders.

A soothing balm taking many of his worries away. Your palms smoothing out his skin felt like an anchor. One he desperately tried to hold onto.

Through the fog of his anxiety, he saw you knelt by his side, hugging him close. Naked as he was, a sweaty patina clinging to your skin. Although Din had not been in possession of his own body, he had been relegated to the background and had been witness to everything that happened. Forced to watch him take you.

He felt sick to his stomach.

“I’m sorry. I can’t control him, I just―,” he wheezed as he sat back up.

Your soft eyes sparkled, a faint smile curling up your lips. Your fingers snaked through his hair, combing it back.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Din,” you hugged him tighter, reassuring, kissing one of his shoulders.

“Are you hurt? Did I― did he…?”

“I’m completely fine. A bit… sensitive and raw. But in a good way,” you added with a faint chuckle.

The comforting caress of your hand rubbing his back and your lips brushing the skin on his shoulder made him believe you.

Even though the look in your eyes had not changed, he could see the questions dancing in your pupils. Questions you were holding back, but that would eventually spurt out.

Your free hand reached for his left cheek, and he almost flinched at the proximity. Your thumb had come too close to the scar, sending a shot of pain down his neck. But he didn’t lean back away from you. Instead, Din stilled under your touch.

“I knew you’d be gorgeous underneath that helmet,” you whispered, your mouth close to his.

Din grunted, taking your compliment as an offense. Why were you mocking him? He knew how he looked ― he didn’t need you making fun of him for it.

And why was he upset? He shouldn’t. He couldn’t.

Your tiny fingers wrapped around his wrist when he reached for the helmet nearby. You yanked his forearm until his eyes met yours.

“I wasn’t joking. I mean it, Din. Truly,” you husked, hand again on his cheek and thumb too close for comfort.

He couldn’t see a sliver of jest in your features. You were deadpan serious. And that scared him.

Din looked away, coming to terms with the flaring emotions. Emotions. Even the unspoken word tasted weird on his tongue.

You moved away from him to quickly gather your clothes and put them on. Then returned to his side with his armour and clothing.

“Let’s go back home, Din. You look knackered,” you mumbled, kneeling by his side again.

Din didn’t reject your aid when you helped him get dressed again. Taking the helmet between your hands, he bowed down his head so you could put it on for him.

His body ached in places he didn’t even know could hurt ― all the restructuring his bones had to endure always took a physical toll on him. So much so, he needed your help to stand up ― his legs felt like those of a newborn humbaba.

But today… today it also took an emotional toll on him.

He really was exhausted.

You probably needed time to process what had happened tonight, a whirlwind of questions and doubts battered around in your mind. But you didn’t want to leave Din alone, not when he looked so fatigued, a moment away from breaking.

Walking down the silent corridor beside him, arm draped around his waist, you went past your room. You had never been to his and hoped tonight would be the night where he would let you spend it by his side.

Hand heavy on the handle, you pushed it down and the door swung open. You didn’t know what to expect and, somehow, the bareness of his room did not surprise you at all. The metalwork on the walls had been painted black and the furniture was sparse. A massive bed with black bedsheets dominated the room.

Despite the monochromatic theme, it felt cozy, inviting even. Dragging him towards the bed, you gently pushed him down on to the mattress and knelt in front of him to remove his boots.

“I can do it,” his words slurred.

“I know. But let me do it, please,” you muttered, throwing the shoes to one side.

Din hummed in agreement, so slowly you unfastened all the beskar pieces again. Removed the vest underneath and unzipped his body stocking down the side, helping him out of it.

There was something extremely intimate about undressing him. Not with a deprived end in mind, but a caring one.

I could do this forever. Only if you’d let me, the intrusive thought didn’t startle you. Because it was true.

Last, you placed your hands to either side of his helmet to pull it up. By pure instinct, his hands darted up to yours to stop you from uncovering his face.

“It’s okay, Din,” you reassured him softly.

Din crooned again, arms falling to his sides, surrendering, and you took it off, leaving it on the nightstand.

You could truly get used to this; you’d never tire of looking at him. His rugged features, although distorted by the nasty scar, were pleasant. His soft, brown and white eyes, the aquiline nose, the moustache blending in with the beard, the strong jaw. You only saw beauty, no beast.

Mando let himself fall backwards and you stood there by the side of the bed, unsure of what to do with yourself.

He decided for you.

“Stay, please,” he purred, half asleep by the time his head touched the pillow underneath.

He didn’t need to say more. Removing your clothes, you joined him under the bedlinen with a smirk.

The first lights of the morning filtered through the big window in Din’s bedroom. You had been awake for an hour now, but he had been so peacefully sleeping, you didn’t want to disturb him.

A tangled mess of limbs you were, your legs intertwined with his while your right cheek rested on his bare chest. Your left forearm was splayed across his abdomen, the tips of your fingers mindlessly caressing his ribs.

Pressing a kiss to his left pec, he stirred under you, slowly coming out of his slumber. You hugged him tighter, an easy smile surfacing.

“Good morning,” you husked when he looked down at you with just his left eye open, lips slightly curled downwards.

His addled expression made you snicker as you kissed his jawline.

“Morning,” he hushed back once his brain registered your words.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. Everything hurts, but I’m okay.”

The arm of his under you moved, bringing you closer to him in a half embrace.

“I know you have questions,” he said a few moments later.

“Understatement of the year,” you joked, lifting your head slightly up to rest your chin on his chest. “Is now a good time?”

“Might as well,” his reply was accompanied by a smirk.

“You didn’t transform fully last night, did you?”

Din shook his head. “No, just halfway. I think your presence stopped it from happening.”

Did that mean that you could soothe the beast? That you could help Din in a way that really mattered? The mere possibility filled your belly with butterflies.

“And, well, the most obvious one… How?” you emphasized the last word.

“A witch cursed me before I killed her,” you looked at him quizzically, eyebrows raised, and he sighed. “A man by the name of Moff Gideon had someone I held dear under his grasp. A kid I was fond of,” he paused to gather his thoughts while your breath hitched at the name of Moff Gideon. “I fought Gideon to free him. I won, but he had backup I did not see coming. A witch named Morgan Elsbeth. She came to his rescue and I ended up killing her. Her last breath cursed me to an existence of apathy and becoming a beast. Guess it worked,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “That was eight years ago and ever since then, my ability to feel has been dying out while the beast has only gotten stronger.”

Your head spun with so much information, you almost felt dizzy. Did Din fight Moff Gideon? Was it his halo you chased eight years ago?

“Is that how you got the crack on your helmet and the scar?” you ventured, heart pounding.

“Mhm,” was his only reply. “How I lost my right eye too.”

The helmet was made of beskar, one of the strongest alloys in the Galaxy. Only a weapon strong enough would be able to melt it. But you couldn’t push him for more details, or it would be suspicious.

And did it really matter? Did you care that much about the Darksaber? Yes, you had spent your whole life looking for it; yes, you had promised your dying father you would finish the mission. But that felt like a lifetime ago.

“What was the kid’s name? What happened to him?”

“Grogu. He is Force sensitive, he went to the Jedi for training,” he pursed his lips, and your fingers smoothed out the crow’s feet around his right eye.

“You miss him,” you hummed, your fingertips tracing imaginary lines on his skin.

“I didn’t think I did. Till now,” he confessed, stirring under you. “I don’t know, it’s weird. Since last night I have started to… feel again. And it’s overwhelming.”

Your heart did a little jump against your ribcage. If he could feel now, did he feel for you?

You were too scared to ask, so didn’t.

“Maybe the curse is fading?”

“Maybe,” he said back, sounding unconvinced. “You hungry?”

You nodded.

“I’ll go get something. Bet Nau’ul has prepared a feast. Whether it’s edible or not, I don’t know.”

You chuckled at the joke and moved off him so Din could get up. In silence, you watched him dress, his back muscles rippling with every movement.

Yes, you could get used to this.

Fuck the Darksaber. Fuck everything. You just wanted to live your life. With him. Here, in Mandalore. Only if he’d let you.

It was selfish of you to think this way, but Din’s curse had become your blessing.

Every night since you discovered his secret, you’d go to his room and spend the hours of darkness with him. He would reluctantly take the helmet off, but each time you would reassure him he couldn’t scare you away, that what he thought he looked like didn’t matter in the slightest. And you meant every single word. In your eyes, he was perfect just the way he was.

There was still the issue of his Creed forbidding him, but you wondered if it was more habit than anything else.

And every full moon, you would follow him down to the Mythosaur lair to let him take you, excitement running through your veins every single time. You knew you shouldn’t enjoy it but allowing him to fuck you in beast form was exhilarating. Even with practice you had still not been able to take him fully ― his cock too big to bear. It was worse when you attempted a blowjob on him ― your jaw almost dislocated. But you were more than happy to try, obviously.

And of course, it helped him regulate, which was the most important point of all. He had told you he didn’t feel as cold either. Even if his body was hot to the touch, Din had explained how his organs, his blood, felt like icicles. Ever since the beast had had a taste of your warmth―Din’s words, not yours―it seemed like his feelings were slowly crawling back.

That had been interesting too. After so many years spent numb, Din had had a bit of trouble dealing with his emotions. Sometimes they were extreme, out of proportion even, but he was learning how to manage them. Although most days felt like one step forward and three back, especially when it was a touchy subject such as love.

You had tried, but Din was still of the idea that he couldn’t truly feel ― that this was just a glitch, a shortcut, but not the real thing. And because of his stupid theory, he didn’t want to hear you say anything about The Matter. You had seen how much he had improved, how much better he could deal with everything, and yet he wouldn’t listen to you in that respect.

You rolled your eyes, still thinking about it, as you trekked through the mud. It was a crispy morning, but the cold had started to recede. Poor Ca’nara had a faulty retractable third leg ― the inside mechanism was getting jammed regularly. You had decided to be proactive and walk to the landing site of your X-wing, in the hopes that some parts of your astromech droid were salvageable. An extremely long shot, yes, but you had to try at least.

In full armour, Din sauntered towards the dining room, where the three droids seemed to be conferring about something.

None of them heard him coming, and Nau’ul startled dramatically when he saw him.

“Oh! Alor! What― Uh, do you want something to eat?” he asked, looking at Mrs. Kri’gee and Ca’nara nervously.

Din frowned, suspicious of their jumpy, evasive behaviour.

“No, I’m fine,” he mumbled as his eye caught a glimpse of something shiny Nau’ul was holding, trying to conceal it. “What’s that?”

“Ah, this? Well. You see, I― It’s― Nothing really. I don’t really know what―” his stammering was riling Din up.

He was a damn droid, not a fucking human. How could Nau’ul get edgier than himself? Unbelievable.

“Give,” he extended his hand towards the droid, palm up, and curled his fingers with impatience.

The three droids shared weird looks, but Nau’ul finally handed him the object.

Din turned around the metal item and as soon as he did, he recognised the beskar. Brows knitting, he inspected the grooves and quickly identified them as astromeridian lines. This was not a simple object; it was a Jedi star compass. Confused as to how this came to be in the possession of Nau’ul, Din unclasped the compass and lifted the lid.

His breathing hitched and his heart skipped a beat. This was not any star compass; this was the star compass. One that all Mandalorians believed to be a myth. But the black plasma in the lodestone didn’t lie. In his hand he was holding the very same star compass that Tarre Vizsla had commissioned to keep track of the Darksaber in case it ever got stolen.

“Where did you get this?” he snapped, fingers clutching the device tight.

“I― Well, it’s complicated. I thought―”

“It’s hers, isn’t it?” he interrupted.

The memory of that day trip to your ship came back to him. A locket, you had said. Bullshit.

Nau’ul nodded.

“How long have you had this?”

“Weeks, Alor. I did recognise it from the lore I knew about House Vizsla, but we didn’t want to worry you unnecessarily. She’s doing you good, Master, you’ve improved―”

“Unnecessarily? Are you for fucking real, Nau’ul?” Din replied angrily, teeth gritting.

Without expecting an answer, he turned around and stormed out of the room.

You were kneeling on the ground, elbow’s deep in the core of your old R3-D3 unit, trying to reach a hidden screw, when you heard heavy steps approaching.

“Good you’re here, I can’t get to this screw. I’ve been at it for five minutes now. Can you try?” you asked Din, who stopped inches away from your back.

When he didn’t say a word, you turned around and glanced up at him.

He radiated tension through every pore, his posture stiff and shoulders squared. Eyebrows furrowed, you got up, cleaning the palm of your hands on your trousers.

“What’s the matter, Din?”

“This. Why did you have this?” his voice transpired how mad he felt as he handed you an object you quickly recognised.

The star compass that Nau’ul had confiscated from you weeks ago. You had assumed the droid didn’t know what it was and hadn’t bothered to show it to Din.

Your eyes shot up to where you knew his were.

“I can explain,” you reached for him, your fingers wrapping around his forearm.

“You better start talking now,” even if he hadn’t backed away from you, he felt so distant.

Your mind raced and your heart galloped inside your chest. You could lie your way out of this situation, but you didn’t want to. You loved him, and nothing else mattered. He would understand. Eventually.

“Din, listen to me, please. I’m not gonna lie to you: it is exactly what it looks like. My family, my tribe― we are trackers. Have been tracking the Darksaber for generations. I was raised to hate your people, but the message never really sunk in for me. Our purpose was to find the Darksaber and destroy it,” you explained while he remained deadly silent. “That was why I was travelling through the Mandalore system. I was tracking the Darksaber. I was going to Concordia, but I ran into technical problems with my X-wing and had to divert here. I think― I thought it was there.”

Until that night you sneaked out to the west wing. You had been caught before you could confirm your suspicions but were pretty sure that was what Din was hiding in the west wing. The reason he wouldn’t let you be anywhere nearby.

“But now you know it’s not in Concordia,” he finished for you.

You nodded.

“But I don’t care for it anymore, Din. Once I figured you likely had it, I made a choice. I chose you,” you whispered, closing in on him until your bodies met. “You have to believe me.”

He didn’t talk at all. Silence strung between you, dense and worrying, like a rope wrapping around your neck, forcing the oxygen out of your lungs. You didn’t want to panic, knowing that Din probably only needed time to think, to digest and ruminate.

Minutes went by and your grip on his forearm loosened. You were ready to take a step back, give him some space to process, when Din finally spoke in his modulated voice.

“I believe you,” a wave of relief washed over you, “and I choose you too.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach and then climbed up your oesophagus. It was beating so hard, so fast, you were seconds away from passing out.

He chose you.

Before you could throw your arms around his neck with pure elation, Din took a step back and one hand reached towards the back of his belt. Confused, you followed the movement of his hand, a deep wrinkle burrowing between your brows.

Din presented you a black hilt, waved it a little, and then the black and white blade appeared, humming very loudly, although dimmer than what you expected. Your eyes widened at the sight of the Darksaber ― the item your whole family had been searching for, right there, in front of you, an inch away from your fingers.

Lifting your right hand, you reached for it.

Suddenly, a firing sound broke the silence and, inexplicably, Din leaned forward towards you, the Darksaber dropping from his hand.

You held him by the elbows, not understanding what was happening, as his hands grasped for you. Then a second firing noise uprooted a painful groan from him while he almost dragged you to the floor.

“Din? Din!” you whispered, on your knees with him in your arms, as your hands roamed his body.

You felt the warm blood before you could see it and panic settled in fast. He was profusely bleeding from two gunshots on his back, right below the beskar piece that covered his six.

“No, no. Wait. What―” you sobbed as Din groaned, his consciousness drifting away.

You were losing him fast, and you didn’t even know how.

“Are you okay? Is he dead?”

A male voice came from behind a tree near the cliff. A voice you had not heard in a long while, but quickly recognised.

Ashton.

Blaster still pointing at Din, Ash had frozen several meters away from you. What was he doing here? How did he get here unnoticed? Why? Fucking why?

But none of those questions left your mouth, gutted as you were, holding onto Din, worried he would slip away from you. You couldn’t move, couldn’t talk, overwhelmed as you were.

Din stirred in your arms, and you saw the panic reflected in Ash’s eyes as he cocked the blaster in Din’s direction again. There was no time to think, to beg, to ask him to leave. To tell him you loved the man he was intent on killing.

So you did the only thing you could do. Your fingers found Din’s blaster in his holster, lifted it up, pointed to Ash, and shot.

The light beam flashed before it hit dead center between Ash’s eyes. He stumbled back and fell into the abyss behind him. And just like that, you had killed the only friend you had known.

You should have doubted your actions, but you didn’t. It all happened too quickly, and you had bigger worries than having killed one of the few people you cared about. Like losing the love of your life.

Dropping the blaster, you rushed to remove Din’s helmet.

“Din, please, just hold on. Please, stay with me. Please, don’t leave,” you screamed and cried, hands trembling and pressing on the wounds on his back.

His eyes fluttered open, only a tiny slit ― his gloved hand reached up, cradling your cheek.

“Cyar’ika,” he could barely talk. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum (I love you). Don’t cry. It’s okay.”

“No, no. NO. You ain’t saying goodbye. No,” your words slurred as your sobs intensified, your heart breaking into a myriad of tiny pieces.

You removed the glove of his hand to kiss the palm, your tears streaming between his fingers. Yours wrapped around his wrist, holding him there.

As you cried your eyes out, you noticed the Darksaber humming louder, almost deafening, and its light shining brighter. Its vibration called you, hearing your name inside your head. A Force deep within you awakening, beckoning you to touch it. A need as basic as breathing.

Through teary eyes, blinking fast, you gave in ― you grabbed it.

An electrifying sensation ran through you, all your muscles coiling at once. Your mind spiralled out of control, for a moment losing track of time and space. The Force was so intense, so primitive, you thought you would be obliterated by its magnitude.

When you could finally open your eyes, the blade had dimmed considerably and then it completely snuffed out. Your cries had not stopped though, so loud you almost missed Din’s voice.

“Mesh’la,” he rasped, trying to straighten his back, “you― you’re Force sensitive. You’ve used the Force of the Darksaber to heal me.”

Your wet eyes darted to him and then his wounds. Or where the wounds had been but no longer existed. Mouthing a gulp of air, you instantly dropped the Darksaber to hug him tight, crying louder than before.

“It’s okay. I’m fine. We’re okay,” he hushed, comforting you.

“I love you, Din,” you mumbled in the crook of his neck, relief running through you loosening your taut muscles. “Don’t you fucking dare die on me again or I’ll kill you myself.”

Din chuckled, one hand smoothing out your hair.

“Noted, cyar’ika.”

Cradling his handsome face, you pressed a kiss to his lips. Salty yet sweet. You kissed him again, looking for the solace of his tongue.

The wind carried some words you barely made out.

“Maker met.”

Four full moons had come and gone, and the beast was no more.

Din’s curse was broken. For good. Forever.

You couldn’t have asked for anything else. Anyone else. You loved him and he loved you back ― he had shown you many times. Right as he was showing you now.

Your lips brushed his tummy right above his belly button, leaving a trail of kisses as you found your way back to his mouth. Din was laying on his back, his rough hands caressing the back of your thighs as you kissed his scar and then his right eye, lips soft as a cloud.

He didn’t flinch anymore whenever you touched the sensitive skin or his blind eye. Instead, he sighed, as if your caress was soothing, calming. As if you could take away the pain he felt sometimes.

You sat back up on top of him, straddling his hips as his mushroom head hitched in your entrance, his hands compelling you to impale yourself. But you didn’t ― not yet.

Instead, you leaned over a bit, taking the helmet off the nightstand. It was heavy. Curious to know what it felt like, you put it on. The padding inside was soft, your face snug. It was slightly claustrophobic, but also comforting. Weird.

“It suits you, cyar’ika. You should consider taking up the Creed,” he mumbled, eyes full of desire, of yearning. Of love.

You chuckled and stirred your hips above him, the tip of his cock going in ever so smoothly.

“For you, I just might, Din.”

@baronessvonglitter @bishtrouille @natalieispunk @iknowisoundcrazy @almostfoxglove

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

“Last Temptation” because “only blood can bind”

“Only blood can bind.” This much has been established. But what are the true implications of this?

2x08 wasn’t the first time we saw Mairon expressing his desire for Galadriel binding herself to him, by blood. We saw this in 1x08, when he wanted her to be his queen, and save/heal Middle-earth alongside him:

“You bind me to the light, and I bind you to power.”

Blood Oaths/Binding

Be careful, Elf. The heir to this mark is heir to more than just nobility, for it was his ancestor who swore a blood oath to Morgoth. I am not the hero you seek.

Halbrand/Mairon warns Galadriel, 1x03

In this scene, repentant Mairon (“Halbrand”) is referring to himself as the “heir” of the King of the Southlands’ heraldry. But, as confirmed by 1x08, we know that the last heir to the throne of the Southlands died a thousand years ago. Mairon was talking about himself; he was the one who swore the blood oath to Morgoth.

This explains a lot about Morgoth and Sauron’s relationship, since we know that Sauron had several opportunities to renounce Morgoth and even came to resent him (in spite of his initial adoration of him) but, like Tolkien wrote: …[Sauron] fell back into evil, for the bonds that Morgoth laid upon him were very strong.

When Morgoth was defeated, it was as if a great, clenched fist had released its grasp from my neck. And in the stillness of that first sunrise, at last, I felt the light of The One again. And I knew if ever I was to be forgiven… That I had to heal everything that I had helped ruin.

Mairon reveals to Galadriel, 1x08

In “Rings of Power” it has been established that Sauron’s primary goal is to “heal Middle-earth” and rebuilt everything he helped destroy under Morgoth. He wants to erase every trace of his former master from Middle-earth. But he can’t, and he won’t.

A blood oath explains why Sauron had no hope in leaving, denouncing or escaping Morgoth, even when he wanted to; because, and in spite of his initial adoration, he came to resent Morgoth because of his desire for utter destruction and nihilism (the opposite of Sauron’s goals).

And Morgoth would not even pity his own Successor on several occasions; imprisoning him and torturing him beyond believe because of his failures on the War of Wrath. And Morgoth could do so with no worry of Sauron betray or forsake him because of his blood oath.

Due to his (initial) adoration of Morgoth, Sauron irreversibly bind himself, and became his most loyal and devoted servant. And even after his relief of Morgoth’s defeat, he fell back into evil.

“into the folly of imitating [Morgoth], endeavoring to become himself supreme Lord of Middle-earth.”

Morgoth’s Ring (Part Five: Myths Transformed)

In 1x05, we saw Waldreg (a Sauron loyalist) bind himself to Adar, in desperation, believing him to be Sauron. His oath was by blood. And so, his loyalty now belongs to Adar, and not to Sauron. In 2x01, Waldreg met Sauron, but believed him to be King Halbrand of the Southlands.

Waldreg: Come on, Your Majesty. Not even kings can go without food. Why don’t you open up? You tell old Waldreg everything you know about Sauron (…) Pain must be something you enjoy.

Sauron: After Lord-father releases me, I’m going to kill you.

Walbreg: Adar doesn’t even remember you’re here

Walbreg tortures Sauron, 2x01

At first, this interaction might look like Waldreg is still a Sauron loyalist, in searching for Sauron, with the purpose of betraying Adar and aligning himself with him, instead. But that’s not the case, at all. Because of his blood oath to Adar. Waldreg is, in facf, “fishing” for information in this scene, at Adar’s request. It’s no coincidence that we see Adar looking at the tent where Sauron/Halbrand is being held prisoner, and has Sauron himself tortured several times.

How can this apply to Galadriel and Sauron?

Sauron forced Galadriel to bind herself to him, so there is no consentual blood oath happening here. Galadriel didn’t choose this. Or did she? “Aren’t these the seeds you planted?”

We saw this tactic of reverse psychology on Sauron and Celebrimbor’s interactions in Season 2: “you chose this”; “look what you did to yourself”. Annatar is the “Lord of Gifts”, the “sharer of gifts”, but this gifts are always poisonous. And so, he gifts Galadriel, too.

Adar: Sooner or later he [Sauron] sees you… His eye bores a hole, and the rest of him slithers in. For a while he even lets you believe that his power is yours. Irresistible power… that makes every desire’s fulfillment seem inevitable. An ocean of color against which everything else feels forever thereafter…

Galadriel: A dull gray.

Adar and Galadriel talk about Sauron, 2x06

In 2x07, Galadriel revealed to Celebrimbor that she did wanted to accept Mairon’s offer in 1x08. She did wanted to be his queen. Because she fell in love with Halbrand (repentant Mairon).

Hence, Galadriel’s heart's true desire is Sauron himself, the “irresistible power” Adar talked about. Galadriel’s desire for power and her desire for Sauron are one of the same. Alike to Sauron’s desire for the light and redemption are embodied on his desire for Galadriel.

This is his gift to her, by forcing them to bind together. Irreversibly. And forever. He, most likely, transferred some of his powers to Galadriel in the process, too (his power is yours).

This leads to another subtext to this scene: Blood marriage ritual. When two people intermingled their blood in some way.

For reference: in recent media, this ritual is present in Season 1 of “House of the Dragon”, when Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen are married in traditional Valyrian Wedding ceremony; where their blood unites (meant to signify the continuation of the bloodline), and they pledge to each other that they are “one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

Why is this a relevant comparison? Because in 2017, Amazon CEO Jeff Bezos made public his desire of having his own version of “Game of Thrones”. And ever since, many have referred to “Rings of Power” as the materialization of this ambition. Not the mention the visual clues of two “blond/silver haired” characters performing kind of the same act.

Galadriel and Sauron being bound together (blood oath/binding) can actually provide an explanation for many canon events on Tolkien lore:

Galadriel never directly opposing Sauron, and working against him from afar;

Sauron only being able to invade/conquer Lothlórien if he went there, himself;

Sauron groping on Galadriel’s mind for thousands of years (until the One Ring is destroyed by Frodo);

Galadriel being able to perceive Sauron’s mind;

Galadriel (only) “passing the test” (being allowed to return to Valinor) by being able to resist the One Ring (Sauron himself) in the Third Age.

All of this provides a new context for Sauron and Galadriel’s scene at Season 2 finale. He wasn’t there to “tempt” her into joining him, anymore (like in Season 1 finale).

Sauron went up there to collect everything that “belongs” to him: Morgoth’s crown and sword, the Nine, Nenya and Galadriel herself.

And so Sauron played “cat and mouse” with Galadriel for a while, and taunted her about her rejection of repentant Mairon (how dare you say it wasn’t real? Didn’t I said I would have made you a queen?!). He still tries to have her surrender herself to him, freely, but to no avail (she goes full Bruce Lee on him and even cuts his face). And, only then, he forces them to bind together.

Hence the “last temptation”.

And, yes, the showrunners will dodge this question to avoid spoiling Season 3 (like they did with Haladriel back in Season 1, and are only now revealing the truth of it).

There will be no more “temptations” of Galadriel being Sauron’s queen because she’s already his, she belongs to him now.

A part of Sauron’s soul is inside of Galadriel, now, and vice-versa. A lot of fellow fans have already established that Sauron was looking down on Galadriel, after she jumped off the cliff, due to the camera work, so I don’t have anything to add there.

Now, this creates another question: what were Sauron’s intentions, afterwards?

And the fandom is divided between two options:

Sauron wanted Nenya to heal Galadriel;

Sauron wanted Nenya because the ring was stopping her from passing over to the Unseen world (Shadow world).

#1 Healing argument

I’ll say the strongest argument for this option can be found in Celebrimbor’s death scene. When he isn’t afraid of physically dying because he’ll finally be out of Sauron’s reach:

For soon I shall go to the shores of the morning. Borne hence, by a wind that you can never follow.

Celebrimbor taunts Sauron, 2x08

Elves are immortal spirits, and when their physical forms gets destroyed (killed), their spirits go to the Halls of Mandos for a time and they are, later, re-embodied and dwell on the Undying Lands of Valinor. This is what will happen to Celebrimbor. And Sauron can’t follow him there. Not without facing the judgement and punishment from the Valar due to his past crimes under Morgoth.

Did Sauron want to heal Galadriel with Nenya because he knew that, if she physically died, her immortal spirit would be out of his reach? And he wanted to heal her to prevent this from happening? Otherwise, he would lose her forever?

Or: did Galadriel jump off the cliff because her plan was the same as Celebrimbor’s? Physically die, to escape spiritually bind with Sauron?

There is one major flaw in this theory (Sauron wanting to heal Galadriel): Galadriel’s immortal spirit wasn’t passing over to the Halls of Mandos, but to the Unseen world, due to the Dark magic on Morgoth’s crown. Her immortal spirit was, pretty much, within Sauron’s grasp.

Why would Sauron ever want to heal Galadriel, in the first place? Sauron and Galadriel are both immortal spirits, up and foremost; the fandom can’t think of them as something physical.

Sauron isn’t bound to his physical form, and, like all angelic beings on Tolkien lore, he can go in and out of the Unseen World, whenever he wants to. And this (controlling the Unseen world) was the power he has been seeking to master ever since Morgoth’s defeat, and was materialized with the “rings of power” project.

#2 Sauron’s Dark Sorcery

When we first heard of Sauron in 1x01, he’s described to the audience as a cruel and cunning sorcerer, by Galadriel herself.

Sauron is a master in both Ainur magic (Maiar) and Dark magic (witchcraft). He knows how to manipulate the corruption Morgoth left in Arda (world). He’s also a Necromancer, with power over the spirits of the dead, like we saw on Season 2 (in 2x04), and his threat to Celebrimbor at the finale:

But the power Sauron has been desperately seeking is to master/control the Unseen World:

These Orcs were meddling with the powers of the Unseen World. Some dark sorcery of old. […] Even stone cannot hide the mark of one whose very hand is flame unquenched. He was here. Sauron was here.

Galadriel arrives at Forodwaith, 1x01

In 1x06, Adar himself confirms this to Galadriel, after he’s taken prisoner:

After Morgoth’s defeat, the one you call Sauron devoted himself to healing Middle-earth–bringing its ruined lands together in perfect order. He sought to craft a power not of the flesh, but o’er the flesh. The power of the unseen world. He bid as many as he could follow him far north, but try as he might, something was missing. The shadow of dark knowledge that kept itself hidden, even from him, no matter how much blood he spilled in its pursuit. For my part, I sacrificed enough of my children for his aspirations. I split him open. I killed Sauron.

Adar reveals to Galadriel that he killed Sauron, 1x06

What is the Unseen World?

The Unseen World is the realm of spiritual beings like the Valar and the Maiar, and where Wraiths exist. This is Sauron’s true realm.

In The Silmarillion, Tolkien describes: “the Valar may walk, if they will, unclad, and then even the Elves cannot perceive them, though they be present.” In short, the Unseen world is the home to spirit beings, and can’t be easily accessed by those from the Seen world (Elves, Dwarves and Men). This is the realm Frodo enters when he puts on the One Ring in “The Lord of the Rings”.

This means that if one is not from the Unseen world, some sort of magic is needed to interact with it (rings of power). Example; when Frodo was on the Unseen world, he was visible to all spiritual beings there, and was able to see the true forms of those who exist in both Seen and Unseen at the same time.

And this is exactly what happened to Mirdania in 2x04, when she wore one of the Nine rings of power, and saw Sauron’s true form:

I was in a place like this, but shrouded in mist and darkness, and I saw-- I at first thought it was the forge burning, but it wasn't...It was tall and its skin was made of flames, it came towards me, breathing, reeking of death. And I saw-- I I saw its eyes pitiless and eternal. I think it's been here I think it's been here among us all along..

In 2x04, we see Sauron achieving the goal he has been seeking for thousands of years; he controlled the Unseen World, at last.

Some who behold the Unseen World are never quite at home in this one again... In its light, things appear as they truly are: beings of different shades of light and darkness."

Sauron/Annatar tells Mirdania, 2x04

And, curiously enough, this is the scene where Sauron talks about Galadriel and how Mirdania seems like her “perfect likeness”. Could this be foreshadowing that the idea of bringing Galadriel into the Unseen World has been cooking inside of Sauron’s mind? Or can this scene mark its beginning?

The Nazgûl

The future Nine ring-bearers (“mortal men doomed to die”) will become Wraiths (or Ringwraiths) enslaved by Sauron, and his most feared servants. But this wasn’t immediate; the longer the Nine men wear their Rings of Power the more they "fade." Their Rings don't make them immediately invisible, but they nonetheless shift them further and further into the Unseen until they exist almost entirely in it as wraiths who are all but invisible in the Seen World.

The Nazgûl, now spirits, belong to the Unseen World. They can take physical forms like their master to cross the boundary between the Seen and Unseen World. However, even when they cross over, they can’t enjoy physical pleasures as they did in life. Just as Frodo’s interaction with the Unseen World is limited, so is theirs.

This transformation and enslavement to the Unseen World makes it easier for Sauron to dominate their minds and turn them into the nine Nazgûl that eventually hunt Frodo and the Fellowship during the “War of the Ring” in the Third Age.

In 2x06, we see Sauron/Annatar cutting his hand and performing blood magic: in 2x07, we discover he gave this blood to Celebrimbor to mix into the alloy of the Nine rings of power: and in the darkness bind them.

When Sauron stabs Galadriel, his blood (infused in Morgoth’s crown) unites with hers in the moment, and they are bound. So it’s a more stronger binding than Sauron and the Nazgûl.

What do we know of Morgoth’s crown?

In Tolkien lore, this crown was forged during the First Age by Morgoth himself to hold the three Silmarils, and he rarely took it off. The Iron Crown became a symbol of both Morgoth's power and his desires, as the Silmarils remained coveted by men, elves, dwarves, and Valar across Middle-earth.

“Rings of Power” deviated from Tolkien lore and had Morgoth’s iron crown survive his imprisonment to the Void, and Sauron reforging it to fit himself. Adar then uses its power to destroy Sauron’s physical form. Hence, there is a true Dark power at play here. Which means, it was Nenya’s power who was preventing Galadriel from physically dying due to her wound.

The question remains: what was Sauron’s intention in bringing Galadriel into the Unseen world?

To enslave Galadriel and turn her into a servant of his? This seems rather unnecessary, since they are already bound together (blood binding), and so, Galadriel can’t act directly against him, nor him against her, in return.

I’m inclined to believe Sauron’s intentions could parallel the Hades/Persephone myth. With Sauron/Hades bringing Galadriel/Persephone into his own realm (Unseen world/Underworld).

Hence completing the Morgoth/Silmarils and Sauron/Galadriel symbolism: Morgoth stole the Silmarils, and Sauron wanted to steal/kidnap Galadriel, too, and take her to his home realm (Unseen world), the realm he now controls and no one would access to take her away from him.

I think this fits better to where Sauron is at his character arc in Season 2, and what we’ve seen unfold during the season, than him wanting to make a slave out of her, now (he might want this later on, but not right now).

[just-a-ghost00]

Advice from passed on loved ones and ancestors

I saw a post lately about how the tarot community is mainly about FS and love related content and it really made me think about my own practice and consumption. I think tarot is first and foremost a tool for spiritual growth and so I want to do more readings on those themes. Today, we are asking your spiritual support team to share with us advice meant to help you grow and thrive. You get to pick your group by choosing between the following emojis : 1🦄 2🍊 3🏊🏼‍♂️

Group 1 🦄

I will start this reading by interpreting the emoji you picked. To me, the Unicorn represents magic, lightheartedness and trust in the Universe. It represents purity and open mindedness. So I guess the first piece of advice that your team is giving you is to embrace whatever is coming your way. Instead of having a combative appproach, fighting people and things happening in your life, resisting change or wanting to control the outcome of things, try a more passive approach. Being passive doesn’t mean doing nothing. Being passive means that you allow things to come to you as they are and you learn how to work with them instead of working against them. For instance, let’s say you are given the opportunity to work on a project. Your first instinct may be to want to take the lead and create everything from scratch. But maybe instead of doing that, you could work on this project basing yourself off of the work your teammates have suggested or what your mentors have done before.

Now, moving onto your cards, you got the following : 4 of wands, knight of swords, the Emperor.

You are advised to count on your family and closest friends on your journey. At the moment, this course of action is the best thing for you to do. I’m hearing don’t underestimate the knowledge and power of others. Some of you may feel like your loved ones wouldn’t be able to understand what you are going through or provide meaningful help. Spirit is telling you that you are wrong thinking so. You would be surprised with what your people can do. Especially if we’re talking about an important father figure around you. The second piece of advice is to communicate clearly with people around you in a way that asserts your power and authority. That doesn’t mean that you should be agressive but definitely don’t be afraid to speak up your mind. Your ideas are valuable and you matter. No one should be able to walk over you as they please. Let people know that you are mature enough to make your own decisions after weighing the pros and cons. By doing so, you will prove people in your community that you are driven and reliable. The third piece of advice is to not be afraid to be more masculine, more dominant and communicative, more demonstrative in your relationships. If you were afraid of coming off too strong to a certain person you love, spirit is saying "we’ll be having none of that BS". On the contrary, you have to show this person all of you. Including the bossy side. Don’t dim your light for anyone. No matter how much you love them. Your spiritual team is telling you that embracing your power and your masculine will strengthen your bonds with this person. Because they like to know that their partner can handle things on their own and doesn’t need them to thrive. They like to see a strong, independent and confident partner. The brighter you shine, the more they’ll be drawn to you. That is also true for any person that’s a part of your tribe. How can you expect people to find you if you don’t let yourself be seen? Send the signal. Burn oh so bright, beautiful spark 🔥

Group 2 🍊

Sweet group 2 you picked the lovely orange as your emoji. To me, oranges represent joy, fun, warmth, gentleness, Summer. You are encouraged to have fun and do things that make you happy. Self care is a major theme for your reading I feel. I’m told that you tend to overwork yourself and be very harsh on yourself, especially when you feel like you’re not being as successful as you should. I’m also picking up on people not being happy about their body image. You could feel guilty about eating food and spirit is saying just do you. No stress. You’ll be okay. Go at your own pace and do your best. You are enough ❤️

Now moving on to your cards you have the following : king of cups, 9 of wands, queen of cups. I’m getting several interpretations for this combination of cards. So I’m going to do my best explaining them. First of all, there’s a message for people who are in a connection with someone that is a bit difficult at the moment. You may feel like you are constantly the one making the effort to make this work. Your team is advising you to pour in your own cup instead. A relationship takes two to tango. If that person is not willing to express their own feelings and show you that they care about this connection, it is not your job to do it in their stead. Maybe they just are not mature enough to be in your league and that is not your fault. Your job is not to save this person. Your job is to uplift yourself and hopefully this person will feel inspired to do the same if that is their cup of tea. But you shouldn’t focus on you just for the sake of their well being. You should do it for your own. The second scenario that I am picking up on is for people that are single. Your team encourages you to keep moving forward and hold on. You have been working very hard lately and they want to reassure you on the fact that you are close to victory. Very soon your hurdles will be over. You are asked to be gentle with yourself and pat yourself on the back because not only do you deserve it but your achievements are going to be spectacular. You may be on the verge of manifesting a precious connection without realizing it. As I was typing that the autocorrect function changed precious into previous. So maybe this person is someone from your past coming back under your radar. This may be someone you deeply wished to be with in the past but never got the chance to be with them or someone you where with but went their separate way for some reason or another. No matter your situation, the major keywords are : self love, self care and gentleness. Don’t repress your emotions. Feel free to express them in creative ways. Don’t give up on your dreams. A peaceful time is coming your way so do not despair ✨

Group 3 🏊🏼‍♂️

Hello dear group 3. I will start your reading by interpreting the emoji you picked. You are advised to either practice a physical activity or to dive into your emotions. You can also work with water energies to enhance healing and inner peace. You may be the type to enjoy going to the swimming pool or the beach. If that is your case then this is your confirmation sign.

Moving on to your cards you got the following : 5 of wands clarified by the king of cups, 6 of cups, knight of pentacles.

If there is currently conflicts in your relationships in general, you are encouraged to soothe your interactions with them. Try to reconnect with your partner, your family, your friends. Extend that olive branch. Invite them to dinner or to hang out in nature. It is important to rekindle connections at this time of your life. Do so at your own pace, slowly but surely. Take the time to get to know people or rediscover the people you know. Reconnect over past memories, activities you used to do at the beginning of your relationship. Try to put water in your wine. Meaning, you have to temper yourself and try to find a common ground with the people around you. If a friendly offer is made to you, don’t reject them because of past experiences and struggles. Don’t be petty. If help is being offered to you, see past your grudges and reluctances, give yourself and this person the opportunity to learn from each other and start anew. You are encouraged to clean the slate and start on healthier bases. Even if people are being a bit tense around you, adopt a peaceful approach. Soothe people’s worries and show them they have nothing to fear. Try to mediate if you can. Instead of working on your own look out for people that share similar interests, similar responsibilities or experience. Get out of your shell and out of your comfort zone. Get out of your way and try to understand others. Give others the chance to understand you. You are encouraged to work on your empathetic skills. 🕊️

[skyjasper]

The Devil and I

Reader X Azriel

Summary: the time for war has come, yet her powers have not. What will she do when everyone she loves, including her mate, is suffering on the battlefield below.

Warnings: gore, violence, light NSFW, talks of sex.

A/N: ik yall wanted a new AZ one shot soooo here you are :))) this is based off of the song Me and the Devil. If you wanna check out my other works you can do so here:

Masterlist.

Word count: 1.07 K (short IK)

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The war raged on the battlefield below her, screams of agony wailing through the wind. She was completely powerless as her mate fought. She watched her high lord cast waves of his power, killing multiple as he engaged in combat. She was on her knees, hands digging into the land below her. She heard Azriels roaring scream all the way from her cliff top.

“Please Mother. I beg for some forgiveness, please give me a tool to help fight. We are losing, I can’t stand by. Please Mother, grant me the powers that were stolen from you by my ancestors for promise I will return it.” She whispered into the grass with her head bowed. 

Something tugged on her hands, pulling her fingers into the land. A small scream escaped her before the rest of her was covered with roots and dirt. Her body was pulled deep into the ground, small bugs crawling over her. She couldn’t scream, couldn’t move as something forced its way down her mouth. 

Dirt and dust filled her body, humming as if to say if you want power so bad then have it. Then her body was being forced out of the ground, new things adorned her body. Cufflinks made of root and tree wrapped itself around her arms. Her former clothing, now replaced by a garment made of leaves and flowers, covering the most delicate parts of her.

Vines raked up her legs and around her body, hounding her together. Her hair was now braided down her back with vines and flowers growing out of her hair, the top of her head was now adorned with a crown made of tree twigs and cones. 

She felt the power flowing through her body, thrumming under her skin. A large root grew out of the ground where she stood, lifting her into the air. She felt more than heard the silence on both fronts. When she looked down she was met with a ground looking back at her. She stepped off the cliff, trusting her powers to allow roots to carry her to the ground. As her foot made contact with solid earth the war raged again. 

Yet this time the screams were pointed towards her. The few who attempted to attack her were frozen in place with vines crawling over their feet. The vines and roots slithered up their bodies and down their mouths still opened in a scream. She watched as vines popped out of every crevice, their eyes, ears, noses, even through their pores. She absorbed their power as they were turned into dirt.

She heard Azriels loud grunt from her right. Her head snapped to the sound, eyes zeroing in on the perpetrator causing his pain. She tugged on the gold thread in between them. She walked quickly towards him, slaughtering anyone and everyone in her path. Her eyes were set on her mate and she would stop at nothing to get to him. 

When she did get to him, his attacker was already headless. She turned to her mate, his blue siphons flaring as they made eye contact. She felt his pride and heat flow through the bond. 

“My little huntress.” He whispered as he stalked to her.

The battle around them seemed to disappear as he neared. All she could hear was her heart beating out of her chest. Her hands reached into his hair when he got close enough. He smiled down at her with a predatory smirk, his shadows going crazy around him. 

She smashed her lips to his blood covered lip. Her hands pulled on his hair as his hands met her back side. One of his arms stayed on her butt while the other snuck around her waist, pulling her closer. Rooting swirled over both of their feet as she let out a small moan.

“Show them what you’re made of. Show them exactly how strong you are. Remind them to never underestimate you ever again.” He whispered against her mouth. 

His wings flared as one of her hands grazed their most sensitive spots.

“End this war. Once and for all?” She asked against his lips. With a wicked smirk he nodded.

A matching smirk fell upon her face as she lifted the two of them, slightly above the blood and gore. She turned, her back now flush with the shadowsingers front. She looked upon the masses and with a wicked smile she unleashed her power upon Hybern. 

Multiple thick, stocky roots broke from the ground, obliterating anyone who stood on their ground. Thick ropes of ivy surrounded the other soldiers, squeezing until their body’s burst, blood rained upon the soldiers of Hybern. 

New screams were heard, screams of cheer and victory rang out loud. Her power continued to flow, killing every last soldier. She found the king and wrapped him with a large root, carrying him to the feet of the oldest Archeron sister. Allowing her to exact her revenge.

The blood reached both her Azriel. She felt it pour down her face, over her leaves. She felt Azriels hand tighten around her waist and his lips making contact with her neck. She let her head roll onto Azriels shoulder as he kissed the most sensitive spot on her neck. 

The war was over, they had won. She had obliterated Hybern, all for her mate. She gained power from the mother for her mate. She lowered the pair over to where all the high lords stood. Her head bowed to the powerful beings.

“Do not bow, girl. Stand tall, for you have just won.” Ameren spoke. Her voice was different, clearer now. She was unsure of what all happened in the fight, but she was sure of one thing. That she would no longer be weak. 

The high lords offered her a hand. A voice of sorts. When she called upon the mother to return her power, she did not answer.

Keep it. I have no use for it. Find lands to raise, take care of the earth girl. 

With a nod she shook each of their hands. Then she turned back to her mate, a look of exhaust in her eyes. He nodded with understanding, taking her hand and winnowing them to their tent in the woods.

It was there that he claimed her body, again and again. Their tent was now surrounded by trees and flowers. 

“My huntress.” He whispered into her thighs.

“My hunter.” She responded.

~~~~~~~

A/N:

Here’s a short little one shot :) I absolutely love this one.

Taglist:

@littlelunatica @going-through-shit @annaaaaa88 @i-am-infinite @impossibellesliteraryloves

[alien-magnolia]

Our Nest: Tsrul

Fic description: your daily life and a backstory of how you became the new chosen tsahik of the Metkayina village, including caring for your Metkayina brothers and sisters, your marui hut, and your headstrong mate: Tonowari, brave Olo’eyktan <3 who takes care of his people, most importantly: his mate 🤍 through trouble such as heat. Together they make happy memories <3

Tw: starts off with fluff/ storyline— with some smut halfway in. Smut warnings: Heavy service kink, dom-coded Tonowari, sub-coded fem reader. Inclusion of heat and rut cycles (omegaverse) Na’vi mated pair. Setting: Metkayina village. 

18+ MDNI

The warm beam of the Pandoran sun warmed your skin, as you tossed and turned on the mat of your shared marui hut. It’s been around ten months or so — since you had mated for life with Olo’eyktan of the Metkayina: Tonowari. 

—————-

At first he seemed intimidating, fierce. You grew up as a simple village woman, and only got his attention a few years ago: when your spiritual talents were discovered. You felt a direct connection to Eywa. You could hear her at times, feel physical sensation in group rituals connected to the spirit tree, far off the reef. People began to notice. After the death of Tsahik Ronal in the war with the sky people, ultimately — the clan, including Olo’eyktan himself, have been looking for a replacement. You were their answer, their only hope. Tonowari himself went to the tree of voices to seek out if you were really the next Tsahik — and his next mate. 

The ancestors approved. 

It was decided. You were to be the next Tsahik. At first he seemed intimidating, fierce. You did not mate with him at first, simply got to know him, work with him. You advised the people greatly, led rituals in connecting to the great mother. As time passed, you soon found out the inner temperament of the great warrior, Tonowari. 

He was sweet. Gentle. Caring. He was strong — a noticeable size difference between the two of you. He would keep an eye on you when you swam with your Tulkun sister. He even gave you your very first Metkayina tattoo. He taught you how to ride tsurak. (skimwing) You taught him how to better pray and connect with Eywa and the ancestors at the sacred sites. The two of you began to care for each other. 

So it was — one beautiful night, with the blue halo of the Pandoran moon shining over the calm reef, you hopped on tsurak with him. You giddily clung onto his broad shoulders as the two of you quickly rode to the outskirts of the reef: the spirit tree. Underwater, his blue eyes piercing yours, as the two of you mate for life before Eywa. 

“I will provide. My mate, my love, as long as you are with me, I will be lefpom (happy).” This he promised you, as you ran your hands through his hair, as the two of you connected with each other with tsaheylu. He never broke his promise.

~ present day ~ 

The Pandoran sun felt pleasant on your skin, as you tossed over in your mat. Your eyes squint — attempting to adjust to the brightness. Why was it so bright in there? 

You sit up, confused. The string of beads that served as the entrance was closed, yet you saw some of your mate’s hunting tools scattered on the side. Where was your mate? You look around the hut, mindlessly picking up a few of the stones you were using for purification last night.  “Wari?,” you croak out.

A sharp pain makes its way through your stomach, and begins to spread to the rest of your body. It was dull, bothersome, and you felt it as you barely got yourself up, your ears bent, tail swishing erratically. You try and think, the two of you were bonded, and so you tried reaching out for him through tsahelyu, to figure out where he may be. 

You saw nothing, except visions of him outside the reef. The pain started to get worse, and your body began to burn, tingle, ache. You knew this pain before. It was your heat — without your mate, you couldn’t relieve yourself, and couldn’t uphold duties of Tsahik of Awa’atlu, your village. Clutching your lower stomach, you laid down and prayed to Eywa that your mate would sense your situation, and come back. A few of the townswomen gathered around your Marui, asking if they can send a message to Tonowari.

~Eastern sea, outside the reef ~ 

Tonowari and his men were currently on a few tsurak (skimwing) searching for a missing ilu. “Ma’Olo’eyktan!!,” a young Na’vi approaches the group of Na’vi men, met with concerned looks. 

The Olo’eyktan’s blue eyes rapidly switched onto the young Na’vi. “You may speak, boy. What is it?.” “Tsahik. Your mate. She’s in…, well…” “Do not say it. By Eywa’s will, no Na’vi should come near her at the moment,” the chief’s tone of voice suddenly turned sour, as he realized that his mate was in a vulnerable state, unprotected. Worst of all — without him there.

The chief then tells his other men to continue without him, rushing his tsurak back onto the other side of the reef, where the village was. His strong calfs bulged as he balanced on tsurak, riding the waves, his long hair curled a bit from the breeze. He huffed, thinking about the despair his sweet mate had to have been in. He should not have gone outside the reef today — he had an inner feeling, yet he ignored it. His mate had taught him better…

He rushes onto the sand, climbing his way up to the marui. The scent hits him right in the face — it was very obvious what you were going through in there. He huffs in anger as he shoos away a few young Na’vi men from outside your hut.

He steps inside, bracing himself for what’s to come.

~~

“Wari. Ma muntxtatan. (mate) I’ve missed you,” you barely whisper out to him, the pain has gotten more intense, since you were by yourself. “Look at me. Mawey, (calm) my love,” he says as he sits next to your curled up body, his large hand tracing circles over the small of your back, which did make you feel a bit better — only a bit. 

“It hurts a lot…,” you trail off, turning around to look at him. His large forearm moves further, moving you closer to him, so he is holding you in his lap. With his other hand, he trails a finger over your tattoo (the one he has given you) on your chest. “I know, my love, ma sevin, (pretty) I will make it go away. I should not have left you. I gave you a promise, my mate, to protect. I should have been here,” he tells you, in a serious tone. 

You were too delirious on his scent to really understand what he was talking about, yet you smile and nod, whining a bit, clawing on his large forearms, hoping that he would get the hint. He did. 

“Tsaheylu,” he agrees, connecting the two of your queues. Some of the pain is transferred over to him — and some of the arousal as well. 

His large hand gently cups your cheek as he brings you in for a kiss, a passionate one, lasting longer than you expected. Your soft lips meet his, dancing a bit with each other, your tiny hand reaches to trace his necklace. “Ma tsrul,” (nest) he affectionately calls you, as he feels through tsaheylu that it is time to go further. 

He lays you down on the mat, admires your face, your eyes closed, panting, hot from the heat that’s overtaken your body. “Do not worry, Mawey, ma syulang,” he tries to calm you, as he feels you burning up beside him. His hands trail over your body, your thin arms in comparison to his large ones, your thin tail, that striped pattern he loved so much. 

In desperation, you run your fingers through his hair, grabbing his square and chiseled face. “Wari. Want it in, ma mate…,” you trail off, hoping he gets the picture. He did. Your hands work quickly to untie his cloth, he checks outside the marui quickly to make sure there are no unwanted visitors. His strength shows as he rips your cloth right off, revealing your very wet and puffed lips, to his already erect, ten inch cock, leaking a bit of pre-cum, mushroom shaped head all swollen. 

“Does my syulang want my knot?,” your mate taunts you, as his cock slips in with ease, sliding into place like a puzzle piece, as he begins gently thrusting in and out of you, filling you up so perfectly. <3

You agree, begging for him to give you his knot, through bursts of short moans. “Ma munxtate, (mate) she is so demanding, asking for this,” he taunts. “She is lucky to have Olo’eyktan as her mate, to protect her, breed her even, she is truly his, truly mine,” he grunts out, in between thrusts, as his hands grip your hips so tightly, the skin there begins to be irritated. 

“Ma Wari, yes, I am yours,” you agree, his words and powerful thrusts sending the both of you over the edge. You feel his knot swell inside you, an evolutionary safeguard to make sure that his seed takes inside you. You assumed it was the right time, perhaps, for your nest to grow. 

His knot fully swells inside you, and he moves you over to the side, so you can lay on top of him, his wife, warm chest a comfort to you, as you can down from your heat induced pain. You felt a warmth in your womb, a warmth that felt nice <3 that felt, right. As if it was meant to be, by Eywa’s grace. 

“Ma munxtatan. Irayo. (Thank you),” you say, as you pepper his face with kisses. He smiles a warm smile at you — “of course. It is my job to protect, to make sure that my mate is happy. I could not oversee the village without you — and my life would be empty without my Tsahik by my side, overseeing our marui — our tsrul (nest).” The two of you fall asleep together, knot still intact.

~~ A few months later ~

You mostly stayed in the marui nowadays, coming out occasionally to lead prayer sessions. You were happier than ever, serving your mate and the community, as well as having a new life inside you <3 finally being able to carry on your mate’s genes, his legacy and yours, making a new one, a child, the very start of your family!!

The both of you spent hours decorating and moving things around in the marui, to make sure that it would be just right for your future little one <3

Tonowari also grew very protective of you, throughout your pregnancy, he would not let you gather herbs alone in the inland’s of the island, or allow you to go out at night without his supervision. That was fine with you, you knew you were safe in the hands of your mate, a powerful leader <3 and you loved nothing more than being his mate, his Tsahik.

A/n: Thanks for reading everyone <3 if you enjoyed this post, pls help a writer out and reblog!

Avatar tag list: @jake-sullys-whore @aerangi @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @23victoria @brioffthegrid

[millysastroblog]

SOLAR RETURN CHART PT.2 ! -Asteroids and Points-

Disclamer ! : Each of the SR Placements i wrotte here down, DO NOT have to be aligned with your own experience, in Astrology we have so many diffrenet factors that can change and influence our lifes, what i refer here to are the Asteriods and Points in my own personal SR Chart from the past couple years. They are short, easy examples of how they could impact somones life, to what degree they impacted my life.

>>> OK guys :) well alright lets now dive into it ! <<

Vertex =Is another tool that I like to use on the Solar Return chart is the Vertex. Similar to the Sun the Vertex can be a huge turnig point by the house it sits in and show fated events, only if heavily aspected.

Example: The year I had Vertex in my 7th House, um yeah guys i was deeply in love for the first time in my life, i meet the so called love of my life (bestfriend), and wow it was really intense, i had a very intimate soul bound with that peron, as if we shared the same soul. But sadly later on i went through a broken heart girl moment, the dream of sharing the rest of my life with that person sadly couldnt be fulfilled. And it defintly thought me a lot of lessons and struggles about love, fear of abandoment, unhealthy attachments, addiction to love beign afraid to love and not feeling worthy of it.

Continuing as i mentioned previously hard aspects matter alot when it comes to the SR Vertex. At that time my Vertex in the 7th house was opposite my SR Venus !!!! It usualy indicates the connection between me and that person possibly stemming from a past life time, like a soulmate or twinflame connection. Needing to find eachother this lifetime to fullfil a certain mission. So unlike the conjunction or soft aspects the connection was at an on and off state, which refers to the dynamic of the opposition, the built up of inner tension ,push and pull beetwen two energys wheter It´ll be life situations like (home, career, money or relationships ) with my case since the Vertex sits in my 7th house of the SR Chart ;). Which led to high amounst of attraction and gravitation towards that person but also complications and misunderstandings.

That does not mean everyone with a SR Vertex in the 7th house harshly aspecting Venus will go through the same experience like me, but changes in love life generally can be garanted. Also look a at transits and Synastry for more information :)

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North Node = The North Node in the SR Chart can indicate how we grow this year. It shows lessons that we need to learn and evolve from. Providing you with all the experiences and tools for your destination ahead until the year to come.

Example: They year i had my SR North Node in the 12th my first Spiritual Awakening got activated unexpectedly, my interest for meditation, yoga, chakras began to increase. I started to connect with the spirit world, my ancestors, angels, spirit guide more easily. I feelt the strong bond beetwen myself ,god, animals, humans everything! I started recieving sychronizites like butterflys, white feahters daily.

The North Node SR in the 12th helped me to step into my true purpose and wake up from the illusions, manipluation that was very evindent in my life. It transformed so many things since it was in trine with SR Pluto (North Node in the 12th TRINE Pluto in the 8th house) like me being able to use my natural psycic abilites, my subconcious changing to a healtiher mind set, prosessing past trauma, me doing energy work on my psycial body ,sensing heavy energetic tension within certain parts of my body that steam from repreased pain and trauma. The North Node in the 12th house offered me the time and space to go through that healing stage, meaning I was isolated for some months after losing someting important in my life.

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Chiron = It influences your triggers, wounds, fear, shame, insecurities and coming to terms with them . It can be very difficult but It gives us the possibility of healing and transcend to Self love, Acceptance and Self respect.

Example: Lasty Year i had Chiron in the 11th house, and sadly I felt very lonely, not having any one aroung me , friends i used to know since elemantry school suddenly left life, and even when i attended new social gahterings the void within me, feeling a lack of friendships and a lack of companionship, made it harder then usual to engage in new social circels, feeling inscure about the way I might come across to other people, not being accpeted for who I truly am.

At that time i feelt more socialy anxious than normal, panicing when somone tried to approach me for some random small talk conversation. I had my SR (Moon in the 12th sextile my Chiron in the 11th). With the moon aspecting chiron i can surly approve of this placement impacting me on a deep, emotional and soulful level. I tried to comfort my self through isolation, listen to music, having faith in future that things will get better and l´´ll soon connect with people on a deep and emotional level . I started to understad that this a typical process a lot of young adults go through. And at least i can invest all the time i have on myself and be my own best friend accepting my own flaws and incecuritys. Chiron is not only a pain in the ass but also a teacher helping me to understand my biggest fears regarding friendships and social circels.

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Lilith = Frustration, deception, irritation, sexual matters, fear ,obsessions, scattered feelings and behaviors. !

Example: Last year additionaly with the North Node i had Lilith in the 12th house, and i encounterd also the dark side of the 12th house, fighting with Addictions, Escapisim not wanting to be on this physical earth plane because of how detached i was from it, i also entered a difficult stages in my spiritual awaking like the Dark night of the soul. I felt to need to explore more with my hidden divine feminie se*ual side, feeling the creative tantric energy of mother earth within me, me having more wet dreams than usal, fanazising daily about se* or having se* in my dreams. Additionaly i had plenty sleep paralysis experienceses that lead me to see and feel paranormal things involoving creepy sensations of outher worldy beings gravitating towards my hidden underlying se*al energy ..... (I´ll leave the rest out bc it was very creppy!!!)

omg i know this a bit more spooky, but yeah it was very interesting experience exploring that side through lilith being here !!!

With that being said, I wanted to point out the fact that Asteriod and Points are very valid in SR Chart mostly people only consider talking about planetary placements but I have discovered that A&P can also have a huge impact on someones live. Like the examples I described here. Comment down below if you feel the same way or have the experienced the complete opposite would love to KNOW 😘🤔

Next up I‘ll continue this series by observing the MOST IMPORTANT Placement in the SR Chart connected to the natal Chart!!! And that is definitely not the Sun!!!!!!! ;)

Thx for reading 💕

Stay tuned for PT.3 !

•~Milly~•

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Solar Return Chart Series: PT. 1

[immortalmint]

How many people on the Boiling Isles are related to Caleb? And are Dell and/or Gwendolyn related?

In The Owl House, there is strong evidence the Clawthornes are related to Caleb Wittebane and Evelyn (Clawthorne?). Many fans point to a connection through Gwendolyn, via the ‘lyn family suffix shared by Gwendolyn, Edalyn, and Evelyn. There is also Gwendolyn’s family knowledge of a human previously living in Bonesborough:

“My great-grandmother told me about a human who once lived here. But one day he just vanished. Rumor has it he left something in the library, and if you can find out more about him...”

A Gwendolyn connection is very plausible. We’ll get into family resemblances later.

But a connection through Dell has merit as well, given his palisman’s striking resemblance to Flapjack. We’ll call our yellow cardinal Biscuit for now. (Biscuits were ship rations in the late 1500s onward, and absolutely have been eaten for breakfast. They work in any meal. Every meal. Caleb was poor and hungry, okay?)

The visual clues we get are intermingled between Dell, Caleb, Biscuit, and Flapjack. When Dell is first injured by the Owl Beast, the red blood over his closed eye makes the same shape as Flapjack’s scar. Both Dell and Flapjack are wounded in the same eye, their left. These wounds share symbolic similarities, as they were both from family members: Dell’s injury was caused unintentionally by Eda when she was startled and turned into in Owl Beast form, and Flapjack’s injury likely occurred during Philip’s failed attempt to murder his sister-in-law Evelyn and Philip’s (also unintentional?) murder of his brother Caleb.

(As for physical appearance, note the similar nose shape between middle-aged Dell and teenage Hunter in the screenshots below.)

Looking at older Dell, the scar’s color and shape greatly resembles Flapjack’s head. Both Flapjack and Biscuit have two-peaks of feathers crowning their heads, similar shaped face and chest feather patterns, bicolor wings of light and dark from their respective color pallets, and identically shaped feet. These birds were clearly a matched set, Biscuit likely being carved by Caleb to complement Evelyn’s Flapjack. Sometime after Evelyn’s death, Flapjack presumably left for the Bat Queen, and Biscuit stayed on with the family (I strongly believe Biscuit was Caleb’s palisman, and bonded with his young daughter to relay the love of the father she was deprived of). Biscuit continues to stay with the family to this day, adopting a young witch every 3 to 4 generations. She now belongs with Dell.

It’s also telling that all the Clawthorne family palismen are birds.

If you’re wondering why Biscuit is a she, check out the Northern Cardinal, which is quite common in Connecticut. I took pictures from this lovely bird website: https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Northern_Cardinal/id

Male Northern Cardinals are red, and females are supposedly “brown,” but if you told me that bird looked yellow, I’d agree with you.

What about family appearance? We’ve compared Dell to Caleb/Hunter. So let’s take a look at Evelyn. We’ve got a lot less to go on here. Just a few memory photos from Philip’s mindscape. But from what we can see, Evelyn has impressively full hair very similar to Gwendolyn and Eda. The washed out colors of the photo make it difficult to determine an exact hair color, but brown to reddish-brown seems plausible.

Looking at the Clawthornes, we see various shades of brown, red, and orange (yeah… I know they’re still called redheads, but that’s because the word ‘orange’ wasn’t in the language when redheads first showed up.) These are all plausible hair colors for the descendants of Caleb and Evelyn.

Am I saying that both Gwendolyn and Dell are related to Caleb and Evelyn?

Yes!

Yes, I am.

‘But isn’t that gross?’ you may wonder.

Eh, not really. They’re around 13 generations away from their shared common ancestor, Caleb and Evelyn’s daughter. We’ll call her Caylyn for convenience. With each generation, the percentage of DNA from a relative goes down by half. Example: You share 50% of your DNA with your mom, but only 25% of your DNA with your grandpa. The calculation is 1/(2^generation) x 100%, where that little ^ character means “to the power of.” So by the time we get to Dell and Gwendolyn, each would only have 1/(2^13) x 100% = 0.012% shared DNA. That’s very low risk for hereditary birth defects. You probably don’t have your own family tree documented well enough to avoid hooking up with your 13th cousin.

‘But what are the odds of two Caylyn relatives hooking up?’

After 13+ generations on an island? It’s more likely than you think!

Now that you’ve been lured in with screenshots and pretty birds, it’s time to get to my favorite part: MATH!

I mean, EVEN MORE MATH!

And dates. Yeah. They’re important too.

From Masha’s account, in 1613, the orphans Philip and Caleb Wittebane arrive in Gravesfield. Based on how small the boys are compared to a butter churner meant for adults, it’s safe to assume Caleb is 10 or younger. Philip is likely 7 or younger.

Now fast-forward to Evelyn’s pregnancy. Philip has a full beard in this photo, which means he’s at least 18, more likely in his early-to-mid 20s (most white males can’t grow a full beard until their 20s). That would put the date sometime between 1625 and 1630 for Caylyn’s birth.

To simplify our generational model, we’re going to assume that Caylyn was born in 1625 and that she and her descendants had 2 surviving children each when they were approximately 25 years old. That means in 1650, Caylyn had 2 children, and Evelyn became a grandmother.

If you’re wondering about my assumptions, the birthrate didn’t fall below 2 children in the USA until the 1970s. And before 1800, the birthrate was over 7 children! But when we look back at the 1600s-1800s, 40-50% of children died before adulthood, leaving only 3.5-4 children surviving to have kids of their own. I went with the assumption of 2 children per generation to account for additional factors such as people deciding not to have kids or cultural differences in family sizes that may have existed in the Boiling Isles. In all likelihood, Caleb’s descendants had a higher birthrate than 2. But we’ll stick with 2 to be conservative, and to make the math easy to see the effects of doubling!

Let’s finish the century out with 4 great-grandchildren (2 x 2, or 2^2) in 1675 and 8 great-great-grandchildren (2 x 2 x 2, or 2^3) by 1700. We get another 4 generations of descendants every century after this. So, by 1800, we have 128 (2^7). By 1900, we have 2,048 (2^11). And by the year 2000, we have 32,768 (2^15) new babies born related to a human! That’s a lot of people! And if we add together the most recent 3 generations, there’s even more living relations to Caleb on the Isles. At least 57,344 people!

Dell and Gwendolyn are 13 generations away from Caylyn, with birthdays approximately in 1950. I get this date based on Eda being in her mid to late 40s at the start of The Owl House (2020) according to Dana Terrance (so Eda’s birthday is ~1975). Her parents would be ~25 years older than her. So, when Dell and Gwendolyn meet, our number is around 8,192 (2^13) descendants of Caleb in their generation. And in all likelihood, Caleb’s descendants are more concentrated on the forearm where Evelyn originally lived. This makes it extremely likely that at least some of Caleb’s descendants marry each other.

How likely? First we need to know the approximate population of the Boiling Isles in the 1950s. Dana Terrance said the BI is roughly the size of Vermont in this interview. And in 1950, Vermont had a population of 377,700. We’ll use this as our rough population number for the 1950s BI. For the group born in 1950 (8,192 of which are descendants of Caleb), they make up 2.17% of the total population. But if we think about the number of people in that generation who would marry someone of similar age, we’re looking at the 20-30 year-old bracket, which is about 10% of the total population, or 37,770 people. And 8,192 is 21.7% of the people in Dell and Gwendolyn’s generation (gen 13). It isn’t a question of if two Caleb descendants got married, it’s a question of how many marriages!

(If you’re curious: [chance of person 1 being a Caleb descendant] x [chance of person 2 being a descendant] x [half of gen 13 population], because we’re looking at pairs of people, not individuals. So 21.7% of 21.7% = 4.7% of marriages in gen 13, times half the gen 13 population (18,885) is 887 marriages!)

Dell and Gwendolyn both being descendants of Caleb isn’t even that rare! The Clawthornes are one of multiple families where both sides of the family can claim human ancestry. It’s amazing how far one person’s genetics can spread in 400 years of breeding!

Alright, let’s get back to the main question: How many people on the Boiling Isles are related to Caleb?

By the Day of Unity (2022), we’re close enough to generation 16 (2025), which is 65,536 (2^16) babies, that we can look at a range between 2020 and 2025. In 2020, the 3 generations alive are 8,192 (2^13), 16,384 (2^14), and 32,768 (2^15), or 57,344 total living descendants. In 2025, the 3 generations alive are 16,384 (2^14), 32,768 (2^15), and 65,536 (2^16), or 114,688 total living descendants. In 2022, Vermont had a total population of 647,064 people, and we’re assuming the Boiling Isles population grew similarly. So we have between 8.9% and 17.8% of the BI population related to Caleb on the Day of Unity.

Belos wasn’t only attempting genocide against witches. Philip Wittebane was trying to kill thousands of his own relatives.

Food for thought.

[princeblue]

You said something about Sanemi and Genya being perfect narratives for Kokushibo and Yoriichi and the Kamado siblings. I understand the Kamados but care to elaborate about the Kokushibo and Yoriichi one?

Yes I do care too! I’ll try to explain this as best as I can but I have a few different ways I look at the Shinazugawa’s and Tsugikuni’s and their narratives, so.

Kokushibou & Sanemi; two old brothers who were tasked with looking after their younger brother and eventually leading themselves to being cruel to said brothers, Sanemi hides his affection and love behind his vile words and faux hatred of Genya, but still keeps tabs on the boy and thinks to himself his only purpose is protecting Genya. Kokushibou becomes jealous and spiteful and declares he hates Yoriichi which might be true to some extent, but he still cries for his brother and keeps the flute for all those years upon his death, still weakly trying to convince himself and Yoriichi that he hates him (“stop it I hate you” as he thinks of child Yoriichi with the flute.)

Both of these older brothers use hatred, anger, jealously, cruelty to push away their younger brothers despite at the end their display of hatred crumbles away like ash (hah) and their true feelings are revealed, while Kokushibou is much more subtle and possibly up to the reader’s opinion, unlike Sanemi’s, it’s still very there in my opinion.

Yoriichi & Genya: these two are much more straightforward in their narratives methinks, two younger brothers who look at their older brother as if they hung the stars for them. Who remain so wholly good in their lives and display a rare type of genuine kindness, Genya may have strayed from his gentle nature (which he is described at regaining fyi) but with the help of trauma bonding with Tanjirou and Gyomei’s gentle guiding hands he is able to return to it when he could have continued to be so angry and hurtful from having been abandoned, watching his family he slaughtered and safe to assume growing up homeless after Sanemi left him all those years ago, that hardens a person and yet he becomes kind again.

Similarly Yoriichi easily could have been as hurtful and zealous as Kokushibou, he was the child who was born with a “curse” and who was almost killed at birth and was meant to be sent away once of age, he was kicked out of the very organization he helped form by being open minded with a demon and listening to her story, deciding to spare her, and after almost killing Muzan himself.

And yet he remains kind of enough to leave for his BROTHERS sake, to be kind enough that animals flock to him, to be kind enough to fetch a midwife for Tanjirou’s ancestor and pass on his sun breathing moves in the form of a dance to them.

And they are both the reasons for their big brothers falling, for sanemi his ways of fear and anger crumbles away as genya does and for kokushibou, kokushibou finally dies and makes way for michikatsu to see what he has done and become.

Now this one is my favorite, and something I wished the manga could have done.

Kokushibou & Genya; two brothers who were undeniably less talented than their other brother, and yet still found means of being powerful and strong (moon breathing/demon consumption, you can’t tell me that isn’t op asf) and while Kokushibou becomes jealous and angry, Genya still remains kind and loving, even as sanemi nearly pokes his eyes out he still doesn’t blame him and outright defends him from zenitsu, in a way, Genya is what Kokushibou could have been, a loving brother who seeks to help protect his brother and cherish him. And this part is me daydreaming a bit but it would have been fantastic and a moment of character growth on Genya’s part for Kokushibou to take notice of him and notice of genya and Sanemi’s similarities and try to recruit him to the demons by relating with being a brother who was/is less powerful/meaningful than the next brother and Genya saying no I’d never be like you and trade my love for my brother for power.

So that is just kind of how I view each sets of brothers, maybe narratives isn’t the best words but I have spent so much time thinking about them and how they are similar because they’re both my favorite set of siblings in kny and to me the Tsugikuni’s could have easily been the Shinazugawa’s and vice versa. Probably not the best explanation out there but I hope you get what I was gunning for here.

[starogeorgina]

Broken bonds

Paring: Ser Harwin Strong/reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood

Notes: I decided to split the final chapter of Part One of Broken Bonds into two posts because it was a lot to cram into one chapter, but the second update will be coming soon

1.06

Hearing a moan of pain, you stir. A chill travels through your body as you fully wake up, remembering where you are. You had fallen asleep lying on top of the bed beside Harwin. Your eyes snap open, and you see him struggling to stand up.

“You’re supposed to be resting.”

“There is still a threat to you, princess, and your dragon. I will not lay in bed while-”

You cut Harwin off before he can finish his sentence: “You’re bleeding. I’ll fetch a maester.”

"Wait," he says, reaching for your hand as you stand up, paying no mind to the small drops of blood showing through his bandage. “Last night.. I’m sorry, I overstepped. I hope you can forgive me.”

You brush curls out of his face and smile; the soft kiss shared between you had set your heart ablaze, which is why it pained you to see guilt in his eyes. “There is nothing to forgive,” you say. “As for being my protector, you needn’t worry; you are relieved of your duties, for now anyway. I am returning to explain everything that happened to my father in person.”

“When will you be back?”

“In the morrow,” you squeeze his hand. “I suggest you use the time wisely and rest, because when I return, I assure you I won’t be leaving your side again.”

He grins and says, “I look forward to it, princess.”

—

The castle is quiet as you make your way back to the chamber you are currently resigning in, with only a few knights patrolling the halls so early in the morning, just as the sun was starting to rise. Dragonstone had a rare beauty to it, something that made you feel far more connected to your Targaryen ancestors than the red keep did.

“Princess,” the knight says, bowing his head before opening the door.

You smile, “Ser Cartel.”

The first thing you notice when you step into the room is your uncle Daemon, who looks very amused. He swings back in one of the chairs until the back of it is pressing against the wall. You were sure your uncle had heard you had never returned to your chambers and decided to wait inside to prove he knew everything. Not that you blamed him; Daemon just knew the importance of keeping an eye on those that you love.

He smirks and says, “Vaella.”

“Uncle.”

“How’s Ser Harwin? I imagine he’s feeling much better now.”

You try to stop yourself from smiling, but it’s impossible with the humor in the older man’s voice. “He’s still in a lot of pain; I’ve asked the maester to bring him milk from the poppy.”

“I presume your not returning till has something to do with the fine knight as well.”

Rolling your eyes, you sigh, “Nothing inappropriate happened between myself and Ser Harwin.”

“Pity,” Daemon says, clicking his tongue. “Happiness is fleeting; you may as well seek pleasure where you can.”

“He is my sworn protector.” You feel the ghost of Harwin’s lips against yours before it quickly disappears as it did the night before. “Ser Harwin is a loyal man; he is devoted to his duty.”

“He is devoted to you,” Daemon says, straightening himself up. “I plan on throwing a feast in celebration of our house standing strong. I shall hold off until our good knight has recovered and can attend.”

“That’s very considerate of you.”

Daemon lets out a sarcastic-sounding laugh. “Do remember to inform my brother that I’m ‘considerate’.”

If both dragon riders left Dragonstone, it would leave the island vulnerable to whatever enemy might attack. It made sense for him to stay behind while you flew the short journey to inform your father in person of the attack before a false version of events reached him, if they hadn’t already.

Daemon hands you a scroll and says, “Give this to Ser Erryk, and Ser Erryk only when you arrive.”

“Of course, now, if you’ll excuse me, uncle, I need to prepare to leave... You will keep an eye over him, won’t you?”

“I will have my finest knights watching over Ser Harwin.”

“Thank you.”

—

Laughter and singing fill the great hall as the feast celebrating your house commences. Two weeks had passed, and Ser Harwin's wound was healing nicely thanks to the maester's care and his begrudged resting. When you returned from the keep, you kept true to your words and hadn’t left Ser Harwin’s side to the point where your uncle had you move to another part of the castle, where yours and Harwin’s chambers were beside each other. You had a feeling your uncle suspected your relationship with Harwin was different from what it was.

Since the one kiss shared between yourself and Harwin, he had remained honorable, which left you confused. Your feelings for him had grown into something you’d never felt before. There was no doubt in your mind that you’d fallen in love with Harwin Strong.

“Might I have this dance princess?”

“You may,” you say, accepting the hand of a lord and beginning to dance. The blue trail of your dress lifts from the ground as you spin, and your hair, free from braids, sways over your face. It felt nice to have fun away from the prying eyes of King's Landing.

When the dance is over, you notice Harwin watching you with a wide smile on his face. Instead of returning to your chair beside Daemon at the top of the room, you go over to where the knight is and sit beside him. He offers you his cup of ale, which you accept. After taking a sip, you ask, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Very much so, princess.” He licks at his lips before leaning in closer to you, his breath fanning against your cheeks. “You’ve made quite an impression. Most of these lords and ladies have traveled here to see you.”

You doubted that was a try but laughed anyway, saying, “Don’t say that too loud, Caraxes will get jealous.”

He chuckles before topping off the cup, “The dress you’re wearing is similar to the one you wore the first time we spoke.”

Puzzled, you stare up at him, trying to place where it could have been. The first time you saw him was as a guest at your wedding, but you never spoke until he became your sworn protector.

“It was during the royal hunt for Prince Aegon’s second name. When princess Rhaenyra returned from hunting, you ran into me while trying to get to her.” Harwin sees the confusion in your face and laughs. “You apologized, then kept on running, practically pouncing on her; when you pulled back, your dress was covered in boar’s blood. I expected you to scream when you noticed, but instead you began celebrating your sister's return.”

“Rhaenyra terrified me that day; when she never came back during the night, I thought something terrible had happened to her.” You hold his gaze and say, “I’ve only ever felt that type of fear a few times in my life. When my mother died, when I couldn’t find my sister, the battle for the step stones, and when you got hurt. I thought you were going to die.”

He places his hand on yours and says, “So did I, but I’m here beside you instead.”

“Vaella,” your uncle says, standing behind you. “May I speak with you for a moment?”

You nod and stand to follow him, flaming back at the knight. “I will see you tomorrow, Princess,” he bows his head, “Prince Daemon.”

You follow Daemon into one of the halls that has an opening that looks up into the sky. You follow his gaze and see both dragons flying above. “Targaryen’s are restless, much like dragons are.”

“I suppose, maybe that’s how they become a part of us and why our bonds with them are so special.”

“I’ve always believed in keeping the Valyrian bloodline pure; I always encouraged you to never have a child with that cunt Lannister.” Daemon tilts your head so you're facing him. “The blood of the dragon runs thick through your veins; I imagine if you had children with someone outside of our house, it wouldn’t make a difference.”

“Wha-“

“Do you know what was on the raven I gave you to take to King's Landing?”

“No.”

“It was a letter from Ser Harwin to the other knights. He was giving them strict instructions on your protection, and what fate waited before any man who let harm come to you.”

You feel as if your heart is about to burst through your chest. “Excuse me, uncle.”

Your breath is fast and heavy as you quickly make your way up the long staircase towards the quarters you reign in. When you reach Harwin’s door, you take a deep breath before knocking.

He opens it slowly at first, but upon seeing it’s you, he opens the door wider. Before he has a chance to speak, you grip his face, pulling him in for a kiss. Harwin wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close to him, before deepening the kiss.

When you break away to catch your breath, Harwin covers your face in gentle kisses, saying, “I’m— I—I—”

“I know, I feel it too,” he says, pressing his forehead against yours. “Now what?”

You gulp down, “I don’t know what the future holds for us, but for now, I want to spend the night with you, if you’ll have me.”

[ruiniel]

Hallucinating about Kokushibo again (I)

Looking through some fic research notes and (instead of working on the actual fic) jotting some thoughts/headcanons on Kokushibo's background, the environment that shaped him and his internal struggles.

In the (present) KNY setting we're acquainted with Kokushibo as the strongest demon antagonist second only to the maker of all demons: he's taciturn, aloof, emotionless, strong and ruthless. An impressive, by no means generic, but distinctly villainous character. Afterwards in true KNY style more is revealed and I've read many opinions of KNY enjoyers on various platforms who find Kokushibo's story as one of the most relatable among the antagonists' (not that it's a contest, not at all, but I found it interesting and unsurprising). Let me try to explain, mostly because I'm blurting this to piece more of him together myself.

This was just some guy born in a warrior class family during bloody, turbulent times. No special powers, no godly gifts, a regular human with better material means than most people at the time. Being the older twin in a period where the status of the eldest sibling mattered reams politically and socially, it was undoubtedly instilled in him that he must lead and uphold the honor of his clan when time came. In this snippet I found interesting, Imagawa Sadayo (poet, military commander) writes in a letter to his brother during the early 1400s:

First of all, a samurai who dislikes battle and has not put his heart in the right place even though he has been born in the house of the warrior, should not be reckoned among one's retainers ... It is forbidden to forget the great debt of kindness one owes to his master and ancestors and thereby make light of the virtues of loyalty and filial piety ... It is forbidden that one should ... attach little importance to his duties to his master...

This circulated before the Tsugikuni twins' time but there's the idea of sacrifice, respect and loyalty. These are all principles found in bushido ('the way of the warrior') which encompassed morality, one's role in society, and how to live a life with honor and virtue. It's relevant here to note that the values comprising bushido evolved significantly over time and had many variants.

And the twins' lifetime wasn't a walk in the park of history. This was a fractured Japan of civil and economic unrest, uprisings, conflict over leadership on local and regional levels with feudal powers battling for influence and decade long wars. Point being, it was expected of Michikatsu to come up to speed as fast as possible. When you look at it this way, it becomes even more obvious why his drive to succeed (in blade mastery) and overall become the best took such an obsessive turn. Looking at this, we see a glimpse into their early family dynamics:

We see their father and arguably most influential figure in their lives at that point had a harsh, controlling character and was essentially a man of the times who focused on what was best for the clan (in detriment to his offspring). This resulted in the arguments with Akeno who viewed the children as human beings first before anything else. It does seem their father genuinely cared about Akeno and her wishes and possibly realized his mistakes, though too late, and thought he left behind a strong legacy at least: Michikatsu, taking up leadership as a samurai, married and settled with his own household (my assumption is he did so at around the age of 18, similar to Yoriichi & Uta).

The twins both hurt inside because of the differences imposed on them and their status. While my post focuses on Michikatsu as a character, his relationship with Yoriichi and feelings towards his younger twin were pivotal in his development and downfall, so it's relevant to consider how naturally caring he was towards Yoriichi when they were children: because I like to believe it was in his nature, and though twisted, in a way their brotherly bond never did break even when Kokushibo was all that was left.

More going off the rails in part II...

[thesilverlady]

Hello how are you? Any headcanons on Rhaenyra and her sweet sister Helaena? I know that Fire and Blood does not detail much of the sisters' relationship, that their personalities are opposite and that there is a huge age difference between them. But since Rhaenyra refers to her as "My sweet sister" instead of including her under "Half-siblings", it may indicate that they are fond of each other.

a big hug to you for bringing up our girls. 🥺 Let me tell you, I love nothing more than to imagine Rhaenyra and Helaena's sisterly bond,because I truly think the choice to refer Helaena with with an endearment wasn't unintentionally

So let me share some of my fluffy headcanons about these two pre-war because we know what happens in canon and we need some joy in these scenarios

Helaena & Rhaenyra headcanons

1) Rhaenyra is someone Helaena looks up to; her sister is beautiful, bright and charming. And though whispers about her not being as radiant as Rhaenyra has reached her ears, Helaena isn't capable of jealousy. She knows who she is and by the time she's happy with herself.

2) Rhaenyra is an incredible storyteller; she's enthusiastic, energetic, and confident when telling the stories of their ancestors. Helaena has always been her favorite person to tell stories to because she's the one of the younger siblings to not only engage a lot but to also have an awareness of their history. Her favorite stories centered around Rhaena Targaryen because she felt a kinship for being the second rider of Dreamfyre

3) Rhaenyra is the youngest person in the family to have ever ridden a dragon, and because Helaena isn't prideful like her brothers she shyly asks an advice as to how to claim the dragon she feels drawn to.

4) Both Helaena and Rhaenyra share a private dinner with their father because a) Viserys Targaryen is a girldad and he loves nothing more than to have his two girls with him and b) because the boys can be a nightmare and fights always break out. Dinner with the girls is a peaceful, pleasant affair.

5) Helaena has strong gut instincts and has thus always disliked Ser Criston Cole because of his unnerving constant stare at her sister. Her joy of his dismissal is vanquished when she realizes her mother took him under her wing.

6) Helaena is Rhaenyra's favorite sibling not only because she's the less obnoxious of the bunch, but also because she has always wanted a sister and as much animosity may exist between her and her stepmother Helaena is her blood. It helps that she has always had a sweet, calm demeanor. Their dynamic works because Rhaneyra encourages her to be confident and bold and Helaena is a cool water against Rhaenyra's fiery temper and always vocal about her love and affection she feels for her older sister.

7) Both are helpless romantics; so of course they enjoy plays and songs that tell any love story

8) Aegon & Aemond are nasty as kids and Helaena is one of their easy victims. Mocking and terrorizing her is something that has brought the boys closer. Unfortunately for them, Rhaenyra isn't shy about speaking out and she's capable to humiliate them publicly. thisz usually results to them telling this to Alicent who is more than eager to fight with her stepdaughter because her sons can do no wrong. Usually Helaena tries to refrain from ever complaining about what the boys do to her because she doesn't want to be the reason for her mother and beloved sister to fight, but she'd be a liar if she said that it didn't make her feel touched and loved than Rhaenyra is willing to put the boys in their place.

9) Many songs and poems have been written for and about Rhaenyra. But no piece has ever touched her heart as deeply as the music her sister wrote and dedicated to her.

10) After some failing advice she was given by her mother and ladies when she expressed nervousness about her wedding night, Helaena sneaked into her sister's chambers and woke her. While Rhaenyra was displeased and grampy about being awoken in the middle of the night, she did provide better and more sound advice that helped calming her sister's nerves

11) When Helaena promises to keep in touch she means it so of course when Rhaenyra leaves to rule Dragonstone the first letter to reach her is not her father's who has promised to eagerly writes but her sister's. At first Rhaenyra thought she could use this exchange as a way to keep tabs of what's happening at court but she quickly figured that Alicent most likely keeps an eye on their letters so all conversation remained casual and free of political schemes.

Of course Alicent, similiarly to Rhaenyra was also eager to use her daughter's letters to figure out moves and scandals her stepdaughter may do. But she was quickly disappointed when Helaena filtered her questions to genuine concerns and curiosity.

The letters that never stopped going back and forth helped bring the sisters closer.

[jaeheratargaryen]

Childhood Challenge

featuring @helaenasdreamfyres & @goldaegontargaryen

The nightmares were becoming more and more frequent for little Jaehaera. At only five years old, the young princess had her nights constantly tormented by dreams that kept her awake for hours until exhaustion forced her to fall asleep again. This routine had many consequences, Jaehaera would often fall asleep during her lessons, and sometimes the maids couldn’t wake her, thinking she was ill.

But she wasn’t sick. The dreams that disturbed her were tied to wars, a man with blue skin who brought snow, a world without dragons and with only one Targaryen. It was a world she didn’t want to live in, yet she visited it every time she closed her eyes at night.

That was when she came up with a plan. She would stay awake all night and only sleep when she was so exhausted that she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer.

In the darkness of her room, Jaehaera’s lilac eyes searched for something to focus on. Only the light of the moon illuminated her room, casting shadows and shapes from the furniture that fed her vivid imagination, making her see monsters that weren’t there.

Tired of the fear that her room provoked, Jaehaera decided to explore the castle.

Her bare feet felt the cold stone floor beneath them. Clad in her nightgown and with her long platinum hair, anyone who saw her might think she was a ghost of some ancestor. The girl walked silently, trying not to catch the attention of any guards.

The princess’s eyes sparkled as she observed the castle at night. It was so quiet, mysterious, and yet beautiful. She noticed details she couldn’t see during the day due to the fast pace of life and the many people who filled the castle.

“Jaehaera?” She heard her name called out. The deep, strong voice could only belong to one person. The girl stopped and slowly turned toward the direction from which her name had been called.

“What are you doing up, my dear? It’s very late.” her father asked. Unknown to her, Jaehaera had wandered past an open door, where her father stood, looking at her with confusion.

“I couldn’t sleep…” the princess began, watching as her father approached. “So I decided to take a walk.” It was the truth. Jaehaera wasn’t good at lying, and if she did, she was quickly caught.

“I’ll walk you back to your room. It’s much too late for a stroll.” Aegon said, guiding his daughter back to her chamber.

Once back in bed, her father tucked her in, making sure she was comfortable enough to have a good night’s sleep. But Jaehaera was still afraid to close her eyes and fall into the same nightmares.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked. The princess nodded, but her father could tell that something was troubling her. Her small face and troubled expression were a clear sign, especially to Aegon, with whom Jaehaera shared a strong bond.

“What’s wrong, Jaehaera? You can tell me.” he said, a gentle and reassuring smile on his face. Jaehaera felt she could confide in him, knowing her father would help find a solution.

“I’m scared to close my eyes… When I sleep, I have bad dreams, and I don’t want them. I just want to sleep well!” A deep sigh escaped from Jaehaera’s lips, followed by a large yawn. She was exhausted—tired of the nightmares and too tired to sleep.

Aegon began to run his fingers through his daughter’s platinum hair, gently stroking it to reassure her that she wasn’t alone. “I understand, Jaehaera. But we can’t control our dreams… When it happens again, you can call for me or your mother, and we’ll tuck you in, and the nightmares will go away. Just like tonight, you won’t have any bad dreams.”

“Promise?” she asked softly.

“I promise.”

A small smile appeared on Jaehaera’s face as her eyes closed, ready for a peaceful night’s sleep.

The next morning, the sun shone brightly, and Jaehaera was happy. She had managed to sleep through the night without nightmares. She couldn’t wait to tell her father.

But first, she followed her usual routine. When the maids arrived, they took her to have breakfast with her mother and siblings.

“Good morning, everyone!” the princess exclaimed, her voice bright and cheerful.

“Good morning, Jaehaera. You woke up very happy today,” Helaena remarked, noticing her daughter’s joyful mood.

As Jaehaera sat in her chair, she asked, “Mother, have you seen father today?”

“I have… He told me about what happened last night.” Helaena replied calmly. Jaehaera felt a small pang of worry, wondering if she might be in trouble for staying up so late. But at the same time, her mother had never been strict and always treated her with kindness.

“One way to avoid nightmares is to express them.” Helaena said gently.

“How?” the little princess asked, confused.

“You can write about them, draw them… you can even embroider. Embroidery helps you relax, and it often helps you fall asleep.” Her mother’s voice was soft and full of love, as it always was. Jaehaera saw Helaena as a peaceful and loving figure, someone she could always turn to for comfort. “I can teach you if you’d like.”

A wide smile spread across the princess’s face. She had always admired her mother’s embroidery, amazed at how she could create beautiful images with just a few threads. Perhaps, by putting her nightmares onto fabric, they would leave her mind, just as her mother said. And it would also be a way to spend more time with her, which Jaehaera loved.

“I would love that, Mother.”

[hungeringheart]

heyhey!! i was wondering if i could get a session analysis? we have a heir of blood (P), knight of space (D), thief of time (D), page of light (D), prince of life (P) and a mage of void (P) !! thank you!!!

Oh, hello! As always, it's a joy and a pleasure to see people asking me for my opinions about things. It really makes me feel something quite nice, maybe a sense of interpretational authority, maybe just the fondness of being able to do something for a community. Thank you for taking the time, and especially thank you for going to the trouble of including these characters' moon sways, they help quite a bit!

You've waited a long time and I don't want to keep you longer, so I'll try not to be too longwinded. Still, let's dive in and see one among the many ways this could go!

Dramatis Personae

PROSPIT

Heir of Blood

Prince of Life

Mage of Void

DERSE

Knight of Space

Thief of Time

Page of Light

The Lay of the Land

This is sort of becoming a habitual heading, isn't this? Thank you for bearing with my search for a good conventional formatting.

First, let's examine our Prospitian heroes - the characters whose relationship to the game itself is accepting and passive, though not strictly always positive.

Insomuch as Blood has an Heir,

Blood in this game is strong but in decline, and for this player it is their natural element. An age is waning, a time is drawing to a close -- an age of unity, of suffering, of bonds, of obligations, of nobility. Among some other things. The Heir has no reason to question or be unhappy with this outlay at first. But will that last?

On a personal level, if you put a gun to my head and said, M, write an Heir of Blood, I would probably literally make them an inheritor of responsibility for some kind of awful crime against humanity in addition to being an heir literally.

No one has to my knowledge ever looked into whether Blood (as suffering, as family, as intimacy, as caste, as bonds) is fundamentally a human or a troll cultural concept -- the derivation of the concept seems human ("the blood of the covenant..."), but the trolls' society is based (not with much fidelity; that would be beside the point) on an American Protestant imagining of the society in which Jesus lived, which also produced the thing it seems like, as seen through the lens of Hussie's own culture. (He isn't Jewish, so it's understandable that he chose this Pharisaic sort of concept to pair with the imagery of modern and forecasted capitalist America for Alternia's vibes, since it is very important textually for Karkat's development and character that Kankri is Troll Christ).

Terezi is vaguely practicing Troll Jewish by joking WoG, but everyone counts if you want them to -- and the reason I bring this up is that as funny as the implication of Rabbi Terezi is, it's worth noting that within the comic's universe the trolls have no idea that they're sort of Animorph Pharisees/Sadducees (insofar as someone not Jewish from Detroit could use them allegorically). They could very well have the concept of elemental Blood in a totally different derivation, in universe, from how the kids think of it, and they may or may not also have the dual concept of blood as store of life, blood as that which is avenged, blood as pollutant and also blood as purificant. Blood could well imply something genetic when seen through a human lens that I don't think it would for trolls.

In fact, if we read Blood and bonds as an elemental force the way we read Rose's Light, in light of there not being any human Blood players, we very quickly encounter the fact that trolls seem to once have been eusocial, and so for them blood may also have a spiritual or ritual element it doesn't for humans -- loyalty to hierarchy and to the inevitable way of things, since in a eusocial species all of a hive is a direct relation of the queen.

Alternia is a terrible place, but it seems their distant ancestors had a properly bee or ant or indeed humanlike concept of community, which they lost, possibly through violent social reform...

But that's speculation, and the Blood your Heir inherits and grows up protected by can, as always, be whatever you'd like -- reinterpreted across contexts or not.

If it were me I think I would take Blood in-game in a Breeze sort of direction; perhaps there's a Final Fantasy-like Lifestream, not necessarily literally made of gore -- gore can be fun, but have you heard of trees' equivalent of blood? Actually, Aerith's thing is pretty explicitly based on a Japanese game dev's reading of Kabbalah. Xylem and phloem, and more intriguingly, the intersection of blood and mycelium...?

This is getting a bit unfocused.

In that there is a Prince of Life,

Life is perhaps in peril, or about to make a turnabout. I haven't written before about the importance to my classpecting of Ursula le Guin's personal cosmology, and especially of her conceptualization in Always Coming Home of cycles or spirals of alternating polarities striving for balance, separated and joined by a hinge.

In that the Prince is a destroyer class who destroys with or destroys their aspect, they can be interpreted as acting at the time of such a hinge, in a way that turns it decisively towards or away from the next phase of life.

Whether they're anathema to the current way of things or fiercely uphold it, this is a vigorous and interesting player to have in this game! But we've established that this game occurs at the end of something - so, what does that mean for the Prince?

Your call as usual -- but let's return to that concept of the Lifestream. A Prince needs something significant to marshal or destroy; I think that on this one's planet, the Something could be a dying spring, which they can choose whether to nourish and restore or to let die. Or it could be the sea -- that's a very timely anxiety, I think, the sick and struggling sea.

I think people neglect the element of the Prince's arc where they have to sort of grow into it, or turn into something worse trying -- in relation to Life in the balance, I think this is probably especially concerning... but surely as a Prospit player this Prince understands that!

In that there is a Mage of Void,

Void is something to be approached with curiosity and understood. That seems to actually fit quite well with our nascent theme of change and reaction to change! A Mage traditionally is read as someone who understands for their own benefit, but I think that "their own benefit" here might be somewhat tempered by their Prospit sway, which means they are not struggling or rebelling, and they're more likely to share their findings with the team, even if the learning mostly benefits them.

There are a lot of Voids in this game, lots of mysteries and unsaid things -- what are the party going to do with their very concept of society, given one of the themes is Blood - bonds, struggle, revolution, mutation, change?

What's the situation with Life, where's that going? What's happening with the Furthest Ring?

A mage may ultimately be able to see these things and choose to act on them. But for the most part, I think, here, they may not do so for a while.

But they can't wait forever. As this is a time of change, our friends the living nightmares of the Furthest Ring are stirring; the hard drive must be wiped and the universe must turn.

Perhaps the Mage is here as a sort of canary in the coal mine. Or is Void a kinder thing here, curious in turn about bright matter and the other side of being?

On, anyway, to Derse.

Given that Space has a Knight,

We're beginning to see some complications in our narrative.

Space, you see, probably shouldn't have a Knight and no one else - the Knight assists in the creation of the frog, by convention. But whom does this Knight assist?

If a Knight has Space, which is to say if the aspect of creation, room to live and physical dimension is assigned to someone who doesn't really create but only encourages and keeps safe, maybe that means another player who should have been there is not. Maybe that means they have to make do with what they have, even if they're not as talented, not as capable, not supposed to be doing all this.

If Space has a Knight, maybe that means it's in need of a champion - but how good at that could the second fiddle be?

The answer is obviously 'good enough', although as a Derse dreamer and a possible victim of the intended Hero of Space haunting the narrative, our knight may struggle with believing or growing into that; their struggles in life may blind them to their own potential.

Of course, old strictures and definitions of potential are easing up here. Things are changing. Times are new. Maybe now it can be different.

I really like this concept, but as always... your story is yours to tell, gentle reader.

Concerning the Thief of Time,

People with free and reasonable access to a resource are generally not possessed to steal. It therefore follows that this session's Time-supply is ... compromised, perhaps declining or already at a serious low. The world these players come from is one void of a sense of life milestones, poor in tradition and rootedness to the past and future, in desperate need of an understanding of cycles. And of course the players have a shortage of actual time -- eldritch forces are in motion.

The Thief of Time understands and fights this situation by stealing Time or from Time for themself -- they might begin by wanting to steal from their Denizen, and being a quite talkative kind of person who likes to waste others' time. They're probably quite an annoying teammate at first -- someone who enjoys wasting time and loafing around, someone unserious and quite blasé.

But all of that is about to change. Oh yes, that's about to change.

Nothing like a few hundred supremely tormentous time loops featuring the terrible fates of all their friends to set a body straight!

And, of course, if you like - but only ever if you like -

He is always already here.

Perhaps our Thief might eventually be induced to do something in response to that. Something quite terribly irresponsible.

And on that cheery note, what the dawg (Page) doin?

Happily (or unhappily) for everyone, they're a Page of Light, so even though they hate they life (they hate they wife) et cetera et cetera, not actually much.

A Page of Light means the session has a low supply of Light that needs to be built up, understood and utilized over time -- there may be a very dim effect overall, visually, but also no one knows anything (thus the Void Mage) and no one seems to be having very much luck or clarity.

The Page themself is comically unlucky at first, but hopeful and curious, which is also a fine and lovely thing to be in a session where the most immediately dangerous thing is the dumbass Thief of Time and the Horrorterrors will probably wait their turn if and when the Mage asks nicely.

But watch out, the Page and Thief share their ill luck, and the Page begins naive, weak and vulnerable, just as the Light begins dim and tightfisted. All it takes to lure this person - and Luck and Light with them - into a misguided grimdark spiral that might take everyone else with them.

This too, however, is SBURB.

Where do you think new Horrorterrors come from?

Oh, but it's probably not going to get quite so dire. They'll all probably manage to talk the Thief round.

Probably.

Might have to fight an army of alternates of them, but probably, indeed.

Unless...?

A Vision: Possibility

Six friends play a game. Let's pretend they're human, although they could easily not be.

One of them, an eager but dim young sort, entices the others -- a trust fund baby, a paladin player, a lorehound, a struggling and not very talented artist, and the friend group 4channer -- into playing this sick new game that's totally not a virus, yes they got it off of the world's seediest website but come on you guys !

Unbeknownst to them, it's much worse than a virus, but at first everybody takes it all in stride. Big deal, isekai forever no miss no dodge! They've read all about it.

At first they stick to their delegations -- Mage researches the game itself and the consorts, Prince tries to make some friends and get some material basebuilding done, Knight wikicrawls a dubious ingame wiki to try to grasp how frogs work, and Page attempts to be useful.

Thief does nothing. At first. But then an experience they have in a dream sets them down a dark path, and several progressively odder loops in, they begin to look at the situation somewhat unlike the rest of their friends... and their Denizen, and perhaps a patron Horrorterror with unusual plans as to how to stop the unspeakable and inevitable, the inexorable, the irresistible, is all too happy to help.

[featherchan]

Xiaolin Showdown Headcanon : Kanako

I wanna first thank @champiionic. As I have always stated, they are awesome friend and a mutual. They gave me so much inspiration that I was able to give Kanako's Xiaolin Showdown Verse with more concrete and cemented ideas for her.  IMPORTANT NOTES: Please understand. This is just my personal headcanon for Kanako, including the characters mentioned in her headcanon. I do not claim to own the series, as Xiaolin Showdown characters and the series (excluding muse Kanako and Noburu, and their verse, stories and headcanons) belong to their creator.

So here we go:-

Kanako rarely appears in the Xiaolin's lives, as she decided to carry on her mother's and ancestor's duties as Scarlet. Even though she was told she was the Dragon of the Light, her reasons were that she didn't want any other child or people to suffer the same loss and pain that she did, where their loved ones were robbed by cursed artifacts.

Kanako has a huge and terrible scar on her back, due to an injury inflicted by a demon during her earlier heist. She became a little too cocky and became careless, allowing the demon to slash her back. Despite having artifacts that could heal the painful scar, she decided to keep it as a reminder of her failure and what carelessness can lead to. Now, it sometimes aches whenever she is close to any demonic creature.

Master Fung has persistently encouraged Kanako to join her fellow monks, as he knew being a Scarlet and a thief could sometimes be dispiriting. Experiencing the real world, especially the darker side of it, dealing with crooks, and crooked people, and encountering beings no one should ever meet or come across, can not only be demoralizing, but easily kill her view of humanity and sap up her sanity.

Despite this, Master Fung hoped that, as far-fetched as his hopes might be, that through love, friendship, and family, Scarlet's humanity and hope could be restored, making her a greater Scarlet than her predecessor.

Kanako is a casual smoker at the young age of (16) to cope with the growing pressure, stress, and danger of being a Scarlet. Noburu wouldn't discourage her either and, instead, encouraged her, even joining her for a smoke on occasion. Despite knowing full well that Kanako was underage and shouldn't be smoking, she figured it would be better for her to pick up smoking than to pick up the bottle (alcohol) to cope.

Kanako has a musical talent and can play the violin. She plays her instrument to sort out and digest strong emotions, from anger to frustration. But she does play for fun sometimes, even along with Master Fung (in my own personal headcanon), a man who has many talents. He plays the piano and they bond together as a family by playing duets.

Kanako struggles to digest strong emotions, especially anger, because as a Scarlet, she needs to remain calm at all times and never let her emotions easily sway her. Yet, sometimes emotions can run high and be too difficult to handle. This leads her to be emotionally cold at times, shutting off her emotions to deal with a situation. But when it becomes too much, she unleashes her pent-up emotions through the punching bag or the nearest wall.

Her father is very absent in her life, due to the death of her mother. This destroyed him and he was unable to care for his daughter. Leading Master Fung not only stepped in as her master, but also as a father figure, fulfilling his promise to Kanako's mother (named Aika) to watch over and care for her in her place.

In my personal headcanon, since Kanako and Omi technically grew up in the temple and under Master Fung's care, they look to each other as siblings, referring to each other as such. Since they both understand the pain of loneliness, they're able to be so close to each other. Omi would often call her "sister" while Kanako would refer to him as "little brother" since she's a few years older than him.

She kept in touch with her 'sibling', Omi, by sending him postcards whenever she traveled to a new country around the world, letting him know that she was alright. To keep her friends and family safe and to keep her whereabouts unknown to her enemies, she would send postcards to him under different aliases, including himself.

In the gang, Kanako fulfills the role of being the mother's friend, taking care of and watching over her friends and family with kindness, wisdom, and care. But she easily drops that act and flirts, flustering her lover or crush without mercy.

Kanako is usually the one who catches her teammates whenever they fall. If anyone gets tossed aside, her first instinct is to catch them and prevent them from getting seriously hurt. She not only protects the others from harm, but she also puts herself in harm's way to allow the others to quickly regroup and get away, believing they have a better chance together in the next fight. And as her relationship and bond with her teammates grew stronger, she would go above and beyond to help them, no matter what the cost.

Kanako doesn't believe herself to be the right fit as a Xiaolin Warrior. She doesn't believe in the element of the 'Light' and believes it to just be an element that her master made up. With a goal and reasons to make her believe that she has a place in the temple and on the Xiaolin side. Plus, with a constant lack of practice in her own element, among the team, she is considered the weakest of them all. And what is going for her is only her martial arts and experience in fighting. And as Kanako rode on adventures with the other Dragon, it soon dawned on her how important it was to strengthen her belief in her own element. Especially when she was protecting her friends and family, her protective shield was easily shattered. But through her journey, she learned to believe in herself. And with the encouragement and love of her master, friends, and family, she believed in herself and learned to accept her role as the Dragon of the Light.

Because of her lack of confidence in herself as a Xiaolin Dragon of Light. She was the last member to receive her own Wudai weapon and elemental Shen Gong Wu. After accepting her role as the Dragon of the Light, she soon received her weapon, the Selena Bow, just like any other Xiaolin member from the Blind Swordsman. Her elemental Wu was forged out of love and bond, taking bits of essence from each of the Dragon and Master Fung, where she named her elemental Wu the Moonstone Dragon.

Her family has a wide knowledge of poisons and potions. This includes knowledge of herbs and medicine. And several medicine and ointment stores in the temple were created from her family's recipes. When she has the time, she will often be found in the greenhouse, tending to the plants, while concocting poisons and medicines, both for her own use and the temple's.

Master Fung had a secret and hidden flip phone where both the student (Kanako) and master would leave crypted messages to one another, to keep in touch.